#but over time his robes do get slightly darker. until say there's a night where he does find lamb fixating on blood/their species being

[howlsnteeth]

and are you really okay? are you really okay?

#cw for sh mention in song ! i removed that part in this ! #narilamb #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #eye strain #blood cw #not 100% happy but couldn't keep picking lmao #song is #are you really okay by sleep token #anyway there is some story to this. but first and foremost i think lamb probably breaks down often over the fact they're the Last sheep and #their whole race was killed. it's fucked up #anyway the small detail is that in ~my version~ narinder is very passive aggressive where he can be. like wearing white robes so #his bleeding (he has lacerations that appear even as an ex god) is always staining them. as a fuck you to lamb because he refuses to #wear red/darker colours like the rest of the cult #but over time his robes do get slightly darker. until say there's a night where he does find lamb fixating on blood/their species being #completely culled. and he silently makes the choice to wear much darker robes And stuff underneath so his Ooze doesn't show as much #:3 #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl toww

[messers-moony]

My Everything | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: When five marauders goes to two within the instance of a day. Two children are left without fathers and a wife is left without a husband.

Request: Sirius Black x Wife!reader reuniting and she's Remus sister

A/N: My first Harry Potter request. I got so excited to see this in my inbox and I hope it isn’t the last :)

Perhaps it was the feeling of betrayal she felt when he was finally gone. The fact that everything he’d ever said was a lie. She couldn’t help but think maybe his vows were a lie too. The five Marauders were now two. Only two left. How did this even happen? 

The unbreakable group of five. James Potter, the so-called leader of them all. The mom friend who always made sure everyone was okay and cared for. Sirius Black, the second in command. The mischievous, charismatic troublemaker who was always in detention. Peter Pettigrew, the outcast of them all. The shy and naive boy who gave them all a sense of logic. Remus Lupin, the intelligent and solace of them all. The only boy smart enough not to get caught. Y/n Lupin, the creative and sneaky one. The only one who could sneak and out of the Potions cabinet without Slughorn noticing. 

Now it was just the Lupin twins who, as Sirius called them, the “Linking Lupins.” It was hard in the beginning. First-year was difficult. All they had was each other. Lyall hadn’t really been accepting in the first place, but Hope was always blissfully unaware of her son's problem. All she knew was that he had to go away once a month. Lyall cursed himself out every night that Remus went away, cursing himself for letting this happen to his son. 

The cries of his baby girl begging for her brother. The wails of Y/n pleading for Remus not to go away. Not wanting to let go of him, hearing Remus from inside the room in the basement begging to be let out. Sobbing, crying for his mum or his dad to let him out, praying that the wolf doesn’t take over. Whimpering at how much it hurts the way his bones dislocate and relocate back together in a new way. 

So yeah, first year was challenging. But Dumbledore had a safe place for him to go every evening of the full moon, and Y/n would be there when he woke up every time. Remus relished in the way her hands felt in his. They were so soft compared to his calloused ones. So gentle compared to his often rough movements. Small compared to big. She was everything he wasn’t, and he was happy about that. 

James Potter was the first to talk to them with his flamboyant nature. His eyes were the lightest of browns with spotted glittering green. His smile was perfect and straight. How could someone’s smile be that way at the ripe age of eleven? Despite his aura screaming, “I’m the popular kid, and you’re the loser,” he was actually quite nice. 

Upon looking at James, the Lupin twins both thought of trouble. They remembered the popular kids from their muggle school before this one, how they used to belittle Remus for his scars and how Y/n used to push them away. So, forgive them for being a little cautious around him. It didn’t help that James’ counterpart was the opposite of them both. 

Sirius Black, lanky and confident. This boy had no boundaries and absolutely no limits. If he wanted it, he was going to get it. His eyes were the purest iron, and his smile was white like quartz. Hair black as coal and personality as gregarious as the color wheel. His style was toned back, but his character could’ve put the color wheel to shame with how bright he was. Sirius Black could’ve been the antonym to Remus and Y/n Lupin. 

During second year they found another boy who was being beaten by Slytherins for his scarlet and golden robes. He was stocky, and it seems that he was pretty timid. His blond hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes full of fright. Y/n had stepped in front of him just like she had Remus from the bullies back in muggle school. Her wand was held tight in her grip as she stared at them. 

“What are you gonna do, Loony Lupin?” One of them snarled. 

“Aguamenti.” 

The Slytherins were now covered in water. Damp like they had all taken a shower with their clothes on. Their black robes turned a shade darker. The evergreen accents turned olive, and the silver turned into grey. The main Slytherin boy gritted his teeth, and his icy eyes stared into Y/n’s e/c ones. 

“You’ll pay for that.”

Y/n pocketed her wand in her robes, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure I will. Now, run along before I do something worse.”

They didn’t want to obey, but they also didn’t want to stay in that situation. The Slytherins scurried off like dogs following their owner's command. Y/n fixed her hair with her hand and turned around. She was offering her soft hand to the boy who was frozen, shocked, staring at her. Hesitantly he gripped her hand, allowing her to pull him up. She was only slightly shorter than him. 

“Y/n Lupin.” She introduced, “You are?”

“Pe- Peter Pettigrew.”

Y/n bowed playfully, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Peter.” 

“Pleasure.” Peter muttered shyly as her group of friends approached. 

Remus swung an arm around her shoulders, “You’re bloody brilliant, you know?”

“Our star.” Sirius swooned jokingly as Y/n punched his shoulder, causing him to pout, “Who’s this?” James queried, looking at Peter, who cowered under the hazel-eyed gaze. 

“Boys,” Y/n smiled brightly, “This is our new member of the Marauders. Peter Pettigrew.”

Peter fiddled with his hands anxiously, “New- New member?”

“Mhm!” Y/n hummed, “You’re our new addition.”

James smiled, “Any friend of Y/n’s is a friend of ours. Welcome, Peter.”

From then it went from four to five. Peter never really stopped thanking them for letting him in. For the first time, Peter felt at home, and it was thanks to Y/n. He realized how kind she was, how creative she was. It was so strange. The group was so different, like extraordinarily diverse, yet they worked together so well. Y/n and Remus seemed to be the brains of things. James and Sirius seemed to be the trouble makers. Peter just did his own thing but always contributed. 

In fifth year Remus started to worry. Everyone was so secretive. They stopped hanging around as much, even his sister. It hurt. It really hurt to see them seeking around on the map that he and Y/n created together for the most part. It wasn’t until during the winter break did Y/n finally realize what they were doing affected them. 

Remus barely cried. Or at least that’s what people made it out to seem. Remus actually cried a decent amount. He was snuggled up in his room. His blanket encasing him, and his arms held around his pillow tightly, gripping it as if it’d leave him like he felt everyone else was. His heart felt broken. Y/n was outside his door, hearing his soft cries, and gently knocked on the door. 

“Rem. Can I come in, please?”

He didn’t say anything, so she just let herself in. The door closed behind her with a click, and she saw her tall brother curled up into the tightest ball with silver streams on his cheeks. Y/n sat in front of him and rubbed the side of his arm. Remus’ eyes continue to release water like a dam that had been broken. He couldn’t swallow it no matter how hard he tried. 

“What’s wrong, Rem?”

Remus didn’t say anything. He just dug his head deeper into the pillow he was holding. Y/n’s hand made its way to his sandy-colored hair. She was scratching at the scalp and smoothing his hair away from his face keeping the strands from getting wet. Her hand hesitantly reached his cheek and wiped away the tears that kept falling. 

She sighed, “Remus, please.”

“You’re- you’re gon’ leave me, aren’ you.” Remus choked. 

“Leave you?” Y/n questioned softly, afraid if she raised her voice any more, it’d make things worse, “I wouldn’t leave you if I was given a chance, Remmy.”

He sniffled, “You- you haven’ been a- around.”

“I know.” Y/n soothed, caressing his cheek, “But there’s an explanation for it. James, Sirius, Peter, and I have been distant. We know that. But there’s a reason for it. You’ll find out soon.”

Remus’ eyes met his sister's warm e/c ones, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.” 

He smiled gently. The corners of his lips barely curled, but she knew it was there. Remus had fallen asleep with his sister's hand in his hair. When she was sure he was sleeping, Y/n left the bedroom, allowing him to sleep peacefully. Then she wrote a letter to James where she knew Sirius was staying too. 

One more week, Y/n thought. One more week of this Mandrake leaf in their mouths until they could be done with this. 

It took another month before it was ready. Before they were ready. They were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom when they started. James started first. When he turned into a stag, they all began laughing. James turned back, pouting. Sirius turned second into a huge black dog. Y/n smiled and petted his head. 

“Very fitting, Sirius.”

Sirius turned back, letting Peter turn next. He was so tiny that Sirius almost stepped on him. James and Y/n sniggered at their rat friend. Next was Y/n, who turned into a graceful cat. Her fur was black, and her eyes were a striking e/c. James smirked and nudged Sirius. 

“Matching animagus’, eh?”

Sirius scowled, “Cats and dogs don’t match.”

Y/n turned back, “Don’t they?”

“Ready for this full moon?” James asked them all. 

“‘Course!”

“Yep!”

“Can’t wait.”

That full moon was better than them all. Remus had people to join him. There was something that he noticed, though. Every time he’d get close to the cat, the dog would growl and stand in front of her. It was like the dog was protecting what was his. Y/n noticed it too. Every time Remus got close, Sirius stood in front of her, keeping him at a safe distance. 

It wasn’t until a quiet night in the Marauders dorm did Remus finally bring it up, “Sirius.”

“Remus.”

“How long?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “How long what?”

“You know,” Remus moved his hand in a circular motion for him to continue, “How long have you liked my sister?”

“Woah, Remus.” Sirius stated in shock, “That’s quite the accusation.”

Remus tilted his head, “Is it?”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius replied, “Y/n is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So, you not sleeping with any girls for the past year is just a coincidence?” Remus questioned knowingly, “You staring at her during class and parties is just on accident?”

Sirius’ cheeks went pink, “And it’s definitely a coincidence that you always hug her first after every Quidditch match.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” Sirius confessed, “I like Y/n. I have for a while.”

“So why haven’t you asked her out?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus shrugged, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet? You know she enjoys going to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks.”

“Mate, have you forgotten we’re talking about your sister?” Sirius asked, “Like your twin sister?”

“I know.” Remus replied, “She likes you too, you know.”

Sirius’ eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. How in the name of Merlin was Remus so calm about this? He said it so casually as if they were talking about the weather. Sirius expected Remus to get angry or throw a book at him. 

“Are you- Are you giving me permission to date your sister?”

“As long as you don’t hurt her, sure.”

Sirius hesitated before asking his next question, “Can you help me do it?”

Remus smirked, “Casanova of Hogwarts can’t ask out Y/n?”

“Please, Remus.” Sirius begged, “I really like her, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Remus snorted, “You always fuck things up.”

“That’s why I need you!” 

Remus just smirked triumphantly. 

“Pleaaaseeeeeee.”

“Alright, fine.” Remus relented, “Just be cool about it, yeah? Take her to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. She’d enjoy that a lot. Maybe take her to Tomes and Scrolls.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Now shut up. ‘M tired.”

The following day Sirius and Y/n did go to Hogsmeade together. She was amazed when they went into Honeydukes together. She picked out some of her favorite sweets and some for Remus since the full moon was a week away. When she went to pay for it, Sirius pushed her hand away, paying for it himself. Y/n wouldn’t stop thanking him. 

Next, they went to Tomes and Scrolls. On any ordinary occasion, Sirius would’ve hated this. Truth be told, he wasn’t really a reader or a book person in general. But for her, he’d do absolutely anything. Y/n picked out some new books and began raving to Sirius about one in particular. So again, Sirius paid for them and told her to find a table in the Three Broomsticks. 

Sirius went to the area where the book she was raving about was found. He grabbed one for himself, planning to read and annotate it for her. Maybe he’d give it to her as a birthday gift or just a random gift. Nonetheless, he knew she’d love it, and Sirius would fall off a cliff if she asked him to. 

Inside he found her sitting with a hot chocolate and a butterbeer for himself. Sirius slid into the booth smiling at her. They talked about everything and anything. Sirius even went as far as to tell her some stuff about his family the other guys didn’t know about. He went on about how he envied Remus and her relationship wanting the same thing with Regulus. 

Sirius told her how he wanted his future to look. How many tattoos he wanted. Where he wanted to live. How many children he wanted. So on and so forth. He was so open and so honest it surprised her. Generally, if someone asked Sirius what he wanted his future to look at, he’d just shrug. Now he was spilling everything to her. 

It didn’t take long after that for them to become official. Remus smiled when she announced it. He was happy for her. Remus could see how happy Sirius made her, and for that, he was grateful that someone could take care of her in his absence. Y/n only wanted that for him too. One day she’d have a family, and Remus wouldn’t be her main priority. That scared her because, for all seventeen years of her life, it was just her and Remus. 

After graduating from Hogwarts, they got married. It wasn’t anything huge, especially with Voldemort on the rise, but it happened. James was Sirius’ best man, and Marlene was Y/n’s maid of honor. Remus walked Y/n down the aisle and gently kissed her cheek before letting her go. Seeing Sirius and Y/n get married made James overjoyed to marry Lily, but that would happen all in due time. 

So what was it that made her feel this way? Was it the betrayal? Was it the dishonesty? Was it the disloyalty? What was it in truth? The moment Sirius was locked away in Azkaban, everything changed. When Remus heard about it, she was his first stop. Inside he saw her with a baby on her lap. Their baby boy, just a year old. He was born only months before Harry. 

Little Perseus Sirius Black. Y/n’s pride and joy. He was everything to her. Remus had walked into the house seeing his broken sister holding her child close to her as he cried. Remus walked in and gently took the child from her arms, allowing her to lean on his shoulder as he held Perseus. The little boy smiled at the familiar face of his uncle. 

“Rem!” 

Remus smiled softly, “Hey, Perseus.”

It took a long time for Y/n to collect herself. Remus had taken a spot in the house since he couldn’t find a place by himself. Y/n worked at the ministry most days, and Remus would take care of her little troublemaker. As Perseus grew, he looked more and more like his mother. The same e/c eyes and h/c hair. The only thing that made him look like a Black was his defined body and facial structure. 

The sharp jawline, the defined nose, the straight cheekbones, the semi-hollow cheeks, and the pointed chin. His features were that of the Noble House of Black, yet he could’ve made his way to look like a Lupin even more. For a while, Y/n worked a lot. She was trying to keep her family afloat. But it wasn’t until Remus said he got a job offer at Hogwarts did she have to stop. Working for her felt like nothing. Every day she was worried about Perseus going to school. Especially with Sirius being out of Azkaban. 

The night that Remus saw Peter Pettigrew on the map, he knew something was wrong and sent Y/n and owl for her to come to Hogwarts. Without hesitation, she did. On the night of that full moon, she was also down in the Shrieking Shack, holding Harry close to her, not wanting him to get hurt. When everything got resolved, she cried. 

Y/n went home that night rethinking everything. A week later, Remus and Perseus returned home. She couldn’t remember holding Percy that tight ever. Y/n was just thankful that he was safe and he was home. That night that Y/n and Remus told Percy what really happened, why his father was never really in the picture. 

A year later is when Perseus finally met his father - well, that he can remember. He was fifteen now, going into his fifth year at Hogwarts when Y/n and Remus took him to Grimmauld Place 12. It felt foreign, and it felt evil. Needless to say, Percy didn’t like the place. Inside, Sirius was waiting for them along with many others. 

When the door opened and shut gently, he knew it was her. For the first time in over twelve years, he’d be allowed with his wife again. The woman he loved and the woman he felt the most solace with. He’d also see the boy that he used to know grown up into a young adult. The young gentleman Sirius always wanted. 

Perseus stood in front of her, Y/n’s hands on his shoulders. Sirius almost chuckled at it. Percy was protecting her even if she didn’t know it herself. He stood in front of her for a reason, to make sure she’d be safe. Sirius stood in front of them, swallowing harshly. 

“Remus, Y/n.” He choked on the last name.

“Good evening Sirius.” Remus greeted politely, “How have you been?”

Sirius shuffled, “I’ve been better.”

Remus hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, Siri.” Y/n smiled with tears in her eyes, “Hey, love.”

Gently she walked in front of Percy and hugged him tightly. Sirius’ arms went around her waist, and his nose dug into her hair. The scent of her perfume and shampoo calming his nerves slightly. Y/n dug her head into his neck and placed her arms around him. They pulled away and smiled. Gently he kissed her forehead. 

“I’m sorry for believing that you would ever,” She looked down, “You know.”

Sirius picked her chin back up gently, “You have nothing to be sorry for, love.”

Y/n kissed his lips softly. His lips were far from how she remembered. They were no longer soft and tasted of smoke. Instead, they were chapped and tasted of firewhiskey. Perhaps some things never change. Their lips melded together perfectly, just as they did so many years ago. They pulled apart, smiling brightly. She pulled from his embrace to stand by his side. 

“Sirius, this is-“

“Perseus, I know.” 

Perseus smiled nervously; they had the same smile, the same straight smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

It was silent for a while as Perseus shuffled, “Are you- are you staying this time?”

“I’d like to.” Sirius replied, “I’m not quite sure the extent of my living abilities, but I’ll be here.”

“I’m- I'm in Slytherin.”

“Okay.”

Perseus looked incredulously, “Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin.” Sirius stated, “Your heart is in the right place.”

“How would you know?” Percy snapped, “You’ve been gone for most of my life. You don’t know anything about me.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “So you standing in front of your Mather was just a happy accident? You weren’t planning on protecting her. Shall something go wrong?”

Percy looked at the ground, “Someone had to make sure she was safe while you were gone.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair!” Percy yelled, “You left us. You don’t realize how badly you hurt her while you were gone.”

Remus walked back into the corridor to see Y/n frozen staring at her son. Sirius was standing in an argumentative stance. Percy’s eyes were filling with tears of frustration as he stared at the man who abandoned him from the start. 

“You left me. You left mum. You left Remus.” Percy cried, “How did you expect this to go, huh?”

Sirius didn’t say anything, “Did you expect me to be happy?! Did you expect me to hug you and fall into your arms?!” Percy shouted, “Because I’m not. I’m not happy, and I’m not going to fall into your arms and hug you like a naive little boy. My mum deserves better than this bullshit.”

“Enough!” Remus snapped, and Percy froze, “Your father is risking his life to be here right now. To meet you. I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either if my father did what Sirius did. But with things, the way they are right now is holding a grudge really that important?”

“N- No, sir.”

“Percy.” Y/n called, and he stared at her with watery eyes as she approached him, “I get it. You’re angry, you’re upset, but he’s still your father. He wants to be here now.”

“B- But he-“

“I know, my love. He’s going to try and make up for it. You don’t have to trust him right away. You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ right away. He isn’t expecting that.” Y/n wiped the tears from his cheeks, “All he’s expecting is his son. The little boy that he last saw.”

Percy looked down, “I know you aren’t that little boy, and I wish you still were. The little boy that used to make me smile and laugh. The little boy that used to cause mischief around the house driving Remus mad.” 

Sirius smiled, “You’re older now, and that will take some getting used to. I know you don’t remember, but Sirius used to be the only one who could get you to stop crying. He used to hold you all night, sleep with you in the rocking chair.”

“Sirius used to babble nonsense to you while I was at work. He used to take you to the park. Make you laugh by turning into a dog.” Percy sniffled, “Back then, Sirius was your everything, baby.”

Percy hugged his mom tight, “I- I’m scared.”

It was only loud enough for her to hear, “Why, baby?”

“What if- what if he leaves again?”

“He’s not going to.” Y/n moved the hair from his face, “Sirius wouldn’t leave us unless he had to.”

Percy knew what that meant. Sirius wouldn’t leave unless he got killed or died. Percy looked at Sirius’ eyes which were filled with tears from recalling the moments of his past. Y/n smiled reassuringly before Percy allowed himself to hug his father. He was wrapping his arms around his stomach, nuzzling his nose into his chest. 

When they pulled apart, Sirius smiled, “You’re my everything, kiddo.”

#sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #Sirius Black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black #the noble house of black #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter #remus lupin #Remus Lupin x reader #professor lupin #marauders #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #lightning era #golden trio era

[labyrinth-runner]

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still gonna make you say please.” Darkling x Fem!Reader

Title: Worth the Wait

Summary: Reader is insecure of their powers and their ability to be the sun summoner. General Kirigan assures them that they have what it takes.

Word Count: 2600

Warnings: It's sinful sunday folks. This is literally going to turn into smut. Unprotected smut. Marking.

You'd been at the Little Palace for almost a month and by now you felt like you should have been making progress. They called you a Saint, and prayed to you so that you would be their deliverance, but who would deliver you? Who would save you? The weight of your responsibilities was almost debilitating on your shoulders. Most of the Grisha looked at you like you were so much better than them, like they could only dream of being you.

If only they knew the truth. You were a sham. You could barely manage to bring forth your power on the good days. Your arm had felt the wrath of Baghra's rage more than once this week.

Your power on your own was nothing like when Aleksander touched you. When his hand closed around your wrist, it was like your power would do anything for him. It bent to his will, and you were okay with that. The warm sureness washed over you and made you feel for one small moment that you might actually belong here. With the Grisha. With him.

The way he looked at you made you feel like you were more than you actually are. He made you want to live up to that look.

After another failed day of practice, you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned in your comfortable bed, unable to relax. Eventually, you decided to get out of bed.

Your feet took you down to the main hall downstairs. The room was empty. Fires crackled in the hearths as their embers cooled from neglect. Your hand dragged along the tables, settling on the Darkling's seat. He had never used it in your time at the Palace, yet the Grisha fought over where they sat in relation to this chair.

There was nothing special about the chair. Its dark wood was smooth under your fingers. Casting a glance around, you pulled it out and sat, looking out over the empty chairs around you.

"It suits you," a voice said from behind you.

You jumped up, turning to see the silhouette of the General leaning against the open door to the war room. "I-I'm sorry, General."

"For what?" he asked, "For taking your rightful place? You should be sitting there, anyway. Not with the other Etherealki. You're not like them, Starling."

You blushed, looking down. "I know I'm not like them. They belong here. I don't."

"Come," he murmured, pushing the door wider for you to enter. "Let me set your mind at ease."

You passed by with bated breath, smelling the familiar scent of ash and cedar wash over you. Your eyes fell on the map resting on the table. The armies of Ravka were stretched thin, with enemies surrounding from all sides as well as from within. The door closed with a thud.

"Do you know why our enemies wish you dead?" he asked cooly.

"Because I am Grisha and Fjerdans hate our kind?" you replied.

His lips turned up slightly, "A good guess, but no. With your power, you can destroy the fold and reunite Ravka. A united country is stronger. We would loose less men, have more area to farm, and would have a better supply route. With you gone, we remain divided, an easy target for those who would wish Ravka harm."

You sighed, shoulders bowing forward. "I'm not capable of that."

"Not yet," he replied in your ear. His voice sent a shiver down your spine, "But you will be."

"How can you be so sure?" you asked, stepping forward out of his reach. Nervously, you rubbed your arms as you looked over the map.

"For a sun summoner, you surround yourself with darkness," he commented. A chill went through you as one by one the lights were consumed by pitch black night. "If you surround yourself with darkness, it's no wonder you can't find the light."

Your hair stood on end as you bumped into the table. Pieces on the war map toppled over. "If you're testing me, it won't work. There's no light here."

"There's no light in the fold, either," he countered.

"I'm not strong enough."

"Yes, you are." His voice was all around you, like the darkness. "You're just looking in the wrong places for the light."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a sun summoner. Your power comes from within. You need to stop looking outward for the power, the validation. The only person who can unlock your true potential is you."

"That's not true! When you touch me I-"

"When I touch you, I amplify what's already there. I make it easier for you to find it within you, but it's always been there, Starling."

You swallowed. The darkness was oppressive. Your voice was softer, less sure. "I can't."

"You can," he murmured. "All of those people believe in you. Why can't you believe in yourself?"

"Because they don't know me!"

"But they do. You are their Saint! The world has known you before you knew the world!"

"I'm no Saint. I'm just... I'm just me," you replied, frustrated.

"And what are you?"

"I..." Your mind was swimming. You used to say a member of the army. You used to say you were an orphan, someone without a place to belong. Then, after the incident in the fold, you were welcomed here. You wanted so badly to belong here. The Little Palace was everything you dreamed of. When you walked into a room, you were noticed. When you stood next to General Kirigan, you felt like an equal. You were no longer a nobody. You were a somebody. In the darkness, you reached for his cheek, and with precision you found it.

"I am Grisha" you replied, dragging your thumb across his cheek. Warmth surged through you as your power snaked it's way up to the surface. Your blood rushed in your veins. Every fibre of your being felt alive. You pushed away the darkness, surrounding you and Aleksander in a halo of light.

You pulled away from him and the room dimmed back to normal. His dark eyes focused on you, seeing you as he always had. His gaze was intense as you slowly backed away, your backside nudging the table.

"You're not just Grisha," he murmured stepping into your space. His hand reached up, his ring lightly grazing your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. Your eyes fell from his to his lips. The air between you was charged. "You are mine, Starling."

His lips crashed against yours, his stubble tickling your skin. Your hands sunk into his raven hair to pull him closer to you. His large hands slid up your thighs, pushing your robe further up as they hooked behind your knees to lift you onto the table. Your back knocked over multiple little pieces, causing you to chuckle as his lips made their way down your neck to your clavicle. His thumbs drew lazy circles on the inside of your thighs as his lips trailed lower. Landing on his knees in front of you, his lips sucked marks up the soft flesh of your legs, inching the fabric further up.

"Are you scared?" he murmured, looking up from between your legs.

"Of you?" you asked, smoothing a lock of his hair out of his eyes. You thought back to all the moments between you, the pull, the charge, the familiarity of him. There was a crackle between your skin as your atoms grew closer, wanting to bond. You knew it now, you were two halves of the same whole. He was darkness, you were light. You could not exist without each other. Just as you could not know light without dark, you hadn't known yourself until you knew him.

"Starling?" he asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I'm not."

"Well, Starling, what do you want?" Aleksander asked, his fingers slipping up to hook around the band of your underwear, tugging down gently.

"You," you groaned, your head falling back to look at the ceiling as the cold air hit your skin.

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still going to make you say please," he smirked, nipping your thigh.

"Please, Aleksander," you breathed, subconsciously opening your legs wider for him. "I want you."

The smug grin that you got in response made you bite your lip. His eyes seemed to get impossibly darker with desire as his hand slid up your chest to push you flat back against the table top. His other hand tugged on the bow keeping your robe closed, letting it fall open. He stood between your legs, taking in how you looked spread out over Ravka. All of it would be his from this moment forth: Ravka and you. The world was at his fingertips.

The anticipation was killing you as he gently dragged his fingertips down the valley of your chest before settling on your hips.

You had to wonder what he thought when he looked at you. Was this love? Or was it simply lust? When two beings such as yourselves existed, was there any other course to take besides falling for each other? When you were the only two beings who could potentially live forever, why would you fall for those who could die when like should end up with like?

"I've waited so long for you," he whispered.

"Then why wait any longer?" you asked breathlessly, propping up on your elbows. You had never felt more bare; more seen.

He tapped his fingers in a cadence on your thigh as one would impatiently tap a table. "You make a good point, Starling."

Reaching up, you grabbed ahold of the lapels of his coat, pulling him down to you. He rested his forehead against yours as your hands smoothed up his chest and over his shoulders to push the fabric off his body. Then, your sure fingers worked his buttons over with determination.

He grabbed your hands, bringing them up to kiss your wrists. The Darkling took over from where you left off, shedding his own shirt and pants until he matched you.

Hooking your heels around his abdomen, you pulled him closer. His hard length bumped against your slick. His eyes closed at the feeling.

Suddenly, it was if something had come over him. One hand gripped your hip as the other cupped the back of your head somewhat roughly to pull you into a kiss.

This kiss was different.

It was rough, passionate, but it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Part of it was frustration. Anger. Disgust at himself for not being able to be the cool, controlled Darkling he was known to be. He blamed you. He blamed himself for becoming undone by you.

You kissed him back with the same ferocity, but opposing emotions. Your kiss was a resignation, an acceptance that this was how the world should be. Your kiss was relief. Your kiss was love and admiration. Your fingers tugged at his hair, making him open his mouth to fight your tongue for dominance. It was a long battle, but you won. You twirled your tongue around his, soothing him. Your breaths mingled as one, a balance. Your breaths were tantric as he pulled your body flush against his.

Unexpectedly, he lifted you, carrying you towards his bedroom.

"What's wrong with where we were?" you asked softly as he placed you on his bed. It was softer than yours.

"I don't want to think of the war while I make love to you," he sighed in your ear. He pulled back to kiss you softly. "I just want it to be you and me. Here. Now."

Lining himself up with your entrance, he took a deep breath. He kissed you again as he entered. He wasn't forceful, but it was still an adjustment. He swallowed your noises of discomfort with his mouth, waiting for you to become accustomed to the feel of him. When you nodded, he started to move.

He started slow, rocking back and forth into you, kissing you as he did. His hand dipped down to push your knee towards your chest to increase the angle. He hit somewhere deep inside you, causing you to gasp. The gasp quickly turned into a moan as he hit the spot again and again. His pace quickened in speed and increased in roughness, but you liked it. Your body had taken worse beatings that left you feeling less pleasure than this before.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulder, looking to ground yourself. Deep within you, your power was surging, giving you energy that you spent on the Darkling. You matched his thrusts.

"Saints," he gasped.

You grabbed his chin, bringing his face back to look at yours. "I am yours. Take me as you want me."

His gaze was unfocused, seeing through you, but he nodded. His hips snapped into yours at a pace that shook the bed. Your hand gripped his hair tightly as he bit your neck, sucking a mark that you knew would be visible.

It was almost on the precipice of being more pain than pleasure. Your body was incredibly hot. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on your skin as you gasped for air from the exertion of it all. Every muscle in your body was pulled taut, like a slingshot ready to fire.

"Let go," he instructed in your ear.

You screamed his name. Your toes curled as a blinding light filled your vision and you saw stars. You saw the light within you, soaring up towards the heat of your inner sun until you could almost touch it.

And then you were falling. Crashing into a pool of cool darkness. The cold washed over your skin and you realized it was Aleksander's release. The darkness quenching the heat of the sun.

He slowed his pace, fucking you both through your orgasm until life came back into focus for both of you. You blinked through your daze until your vision cleared and you were back in the arms of the Darkling, resting on his bed.

The Darkling had lived a thousand lives before you were even born. Part of you wondered how often he had laid with someone like this, wondering how you'd compare to the rest.

He flopped on his back to catch his breath, chuckling as he stared at the canopy of his bed.

"That was...." He turned to look at you, a boyish grin on his face that you recognized as a happiness he never wore. "Worth the wait."

You let out a breathy laugh of your own as you turned onto your stomach. "Good. I'd hate to disappoint."

"You'd never disappoint, Starling." His smile softened as he reached up to hook his thumb under your chin.

Your eyes trailed down his body, looking at his chest and scrutinizing it for the first time. Scars marred his body. "I'm surprised you never had Genya erase those."

"They remind me of what I'm fighting for." He followed your gaze and sighed, the wall of sadness back in place, and also, you realized, grief.

You reached out to take his hand, kissing his palm. "The fight will be over soon."

He held his arm up so that you could tuck into his side. Hugging you into his side, he kissed the top of your head. "One way or another, Starling. One way or another."

#darkling x reader #darkling smut #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan smut #aleksander morozova imagine #darkling imagine #general kirigan imagine #sinful sunday

[vodkassassin]

Shen Qingqiu decides enough is enough! As is his right

If you see any typos in this, no you don’t 😌

—

The door flies open right on the midday hour mark, when the candle that he lit this morning is exactly half gone, and Shang Qinghua immediately dives underneath his desk and throws his arms over his hand.

“I’m almost done!” He calls out desperately. “Just give me a few more hours, I promise I’m almost done!”

Following this, a silence in his office, long and inspecting, takes place. Shang Qinghua, despite all his instincts screaming otherwise, peeks his head up over the edge of his desk and gulps. The person standing in his door, who is surveying his admittedly very messy office (it’s not his fault! Paperwork breeds like multiplying cells! Why doesn’t anyone understand that?!), and looking very, very unamused.

“Ha, um,” he scrambles back to sit on the chair again, trying to get his thundering heart under control. “H-Hello, Shen-shixiong! This — I — I wasn’t expecting….”

Shen Qingqiu finishes his examination of his workspace and locks his gaze upon Shang Qinghua. He steps smoothly into the office, and shuts the door behind him with sure but quiet movements. A cold sweat breaks out down Shang Qinghua’s spine.

He swallows. He reaches forward and grabs up the paperwork he’d been pouring over before this interruption and holds it feebly before himself like a shield.

“A-Acruelly, shixiong…. If shixiong has something he wants from this shidi, I-I’m afraid it will have to wait. Wei-shixiong demanded these requisition forms be looked over and approved before tomorrow a-and there… there are a lot of them to go through…. I think he waited until the last minute — Oh! And Liu-shidi, he — um, he sent in his audit reports late again, so I have to go through those too and I’m really really sorry but whatever you have for me I can’t —!”

“Stop your babbling.” Shen Qingqiu snaps. Shang Qinghua’s jaw clicks shut so fast his teeth hurt a little. Ow.

He watches with wide eyes as his shixiong — who is now scowling heavily, nooo — begins to flip through the various stacks of parchment and scrolls that sit heavy upon Shang Qinghua’s desk. Too terrified to tell him that, actually, only the sect leader should be looking through those ones, Shang Qinghua remains quiet.

Really, nobody tells Shen Qingqiu what he can or can’t do. Those who have tried before are —

Well. They’ve all seen their sect leader.

“These.” Shen Qingqiu slips a smaller stack of documents out from the middle of one of the piles and holds it up. “The supply logs from the previous joint peak night hunting expedition. They have yet to be filed?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water in frustration, and he holds up his sleeve to cover them. “I meant to, I did! But — but when I was going to get to them, Qi-shimei came in with a cart full of delegated peak maintenance reports! She said if they weren’t done before noon she’d — Ah.” He shudders, peeks over his arm, and goes pale at the way Shen Qingqiu’s eyes have narrowed viciously. He hurries on, voice growing smaller. “I’d just finished them when Wei-shixiong brought me his backlog requisitions….”

He trails off, because the expression on his shixiong face has gone colder and colder the longer he spoke.

“Why haven’t you chosen to delegate?” The man demands from between his locked teeth. “All these disciples that you have, and you’re telling me you can’t delegate a single task to them?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water again and he shiffles pathetically into his sleeve. “Shixiong, I do delegate. This stuff in my office here, this is all the work only peak lords have the security clearance for. Everything else I delegate to my disciples, because I can’t… I can’t….”

Shen Qingqiu stares down his nose at him, and Shang Qinghua stops talking. He drops his gaze and listens as the man silently turns on his heel and stalks out of his office, closing the door with a solid thump.

He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and drops his arm defeatedly into his lap, frowning down at the water stains his stupid tears have left in the fabric. Silk is so fucking dumb, you can’t walk through without it picking up dirt somehow. It’s why he changed his peak robes to darker colors, because at least black doesn’t show where you’ve been all day.

And seriously, it’s just so much easier to scrub blood out of clothes that aren’t white or beige or pastel.

He shoves his paperwork to the side and folds his arms before him, letting his head thunk down on them with an exhausted sigh. The door opens slightly again and a head peaks in.

“Shizun?”

“A-Kao,” he mumbles into his arms. “I’m gonna die.”

His head disciple gives a polite sound of acknowledgement. “I’ll have someone prepare some of the spiced tea imported from that Eastern desert oasis, then.”

“I love you,” Shang Qinghua says fervently, and listens as his favorite disciple huffs a quiet laugh.

“Will return shortly.”

The door closes again, and with it, Shang Qinghua closes his eyes.

Jin Kao is true to his word, as always, and in fact brings a light snack of fruit and a pastry along with the tea. Shang Qinghua plows through it at record pace and is energized! He’s halfway through the requisition forms for Wei Qingwei when his door is slammed open once again.

He flinches. Taking a fortifying breath, Shang Qinghua glances up and immediately loses all color.

“Shen-shixiong is back!” He shakes, voice wobbling. “With — with Z-Zhangmen-shixiong, ah…!”

Shen Qingqiu stalks into the room, side stepping Jin Kao whose arms are laden with the empty tea set. The head disciple wisely flees into the corner, watching with a narrow gaze as the Qing Jing peak lord all but drags their venerated Sect Leader across the office to stand before Shang Qinghua’s desk.

Shang Qinghua trembles as they both loom over him. What did he do?! Shixiong, what he’s said before was completely reasonable! There was no need to go and fetch your overbearing ge!

Shen Qingqiu points a finger at Shang Qingh— oh wait, not him. At his desk. At the mountains of papers littering his desk.

“If you have time to relax and drink tea in your spotless office,” the second in command sneers at his superior, “then you have time to pick up the slack so that our shidi can do the same!”

Shang Qinghua gapes. He stares up at them with round, round eyes, uncertain as to what’s going on.

Yue Qingyuan, for his part, quails under Shen Qingqiu’s steely and unrelenting gaze. His shoulders are tense, and the way in which he looks around Shang Qinghua’s office with a startled look, only to then turn it upon Shang Qinghua himself, just screams ‘bro, you live like this?’

Not by choice! Shang Qinghua never asked for this, Yue-shixiong! The paperwork just never stops!

Shen Qingqiu pivots sharply, glaring down at him instead. Ah!

“What are you doing?” The man says. “Get up.”

“Ah?” Completely bewildered, Shang Qinghua only stares up at the man in confusion.

“Honestly.” Shen Qingqiu sighs under his breath — a sharp and stilted sound of frustration.

He rounds the desk himself and grabs Shang Qinghua by the upper arm, hauling him up from his chair and dragging him away from the desk.

“Th-This—?!”

“Sect Leader,” Shen Qingqiu nods at the desk. Yue Qingyuan only stares blankly at him, and so he sneers. “These forms must be finished. And the next stack. All by a peak lord — I’m taking Shang-shidi for a well deserved break, so I can’t do it, and Wei-shidi was the one to submit them in the first place. Of the four foremost peak lords of the sect, only you have time and clearance to do it.”

Shang Qinghua sways, shocked. If Shen Qingqiu didn’t still have such a bone-crushing grip on him, he might have even fallen. The other man steadies him immediately, and the sour look on his face sours even further.

Yue Qingyuan’s face is pale. “Qingqiu-shidi….”

“It isn’t as if you were busy with anything else.” Shen Qingqiu plows on past whatever refuting the sect leader was trying to pull. He shakes Shang Qinghua roughly by the arm, and Shang Qinghua rapidly blinks away the spots from his vision. “Look at our shidi, he’s nearly dead on his feet. Are you telling me that you would make him work more, when it’s already clear that he’s overworked?”

Yue Qingyuan pauses. He glances around the office another time, shoulders lowering in slow increments. His resolve is crumbling visibly to everyone in the office.

Shang Qinghua silently mouths ‘overworked’ to himself, stunned.

Finally, the sect leader sighs. “No, Qingqiu-shidi is right.”

Shen Qingqiu snorts. As if to say ‘of course I am.’

Yue Qingyuan steps around the desk and slowly takes the seat that Shang Qinghua had just been forcably vacated from. He eyes the stack of paperwork that are piled high, not just on the desk but on the floor and the shelves surrounding the desk, and an expression of regret eclipses his face.

“This shixiong had not realized Shang-shidi’s workload was quite so…” he trails off, trying to fish for the right word, and finally lands on, “heavy.”

“It’s the Sect Leader’s duty to ascertain that all those under his sect’s banner are taken care of. Those directly under his command even more so.” Shen Qingqiu sniffs disdainfully. “You have no excuse.”

Yue Shixiong bows his head. “No, this one does not.”

“I’m taking Shang Qinghua to Qing Jing to recuperate.”

“Yes.”

Shang Qinghua pales even further. He ducks his head down and glances over to the corner into which his head disciple had squirreled himself away for help.

Jin Kao stares back, an expression of smug victory on his face, and doesn’t say a single word.

This traitor! Unfilial disciple! Shang Qinghua takes back what he said about Jin Kao being his favorite. He’s replacing that brat as soon as he’s able to escape Shen Qingqiu’s clutches.

Shen Qingqiu yanks on his arms, dragging him out of the office. He cranes his neck around, and the last scene he sees before the door slams shut is Jin Kao setting down the empty tea set, picking up a large stack of papers from one of the various spots on the floor, which he then ferries over to the desk at which Yue Qingyuan has picked up the half-finished requisition, looking it over with a frown.

Huh. He’s never seen his head disciple look quite so intimidating before. The boy is practically looming over their sect leader with a dark expression.

That’s a little strange.

He doesn’t see beyond that, though, because Shen Qingqiu slams the doors shut again and drags him off his own damn peak.

—

Support this story on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32312410

#Jiuplane #yes I ship it #scumplane #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #Shen Jiu #Shang Qinghua #Vodkassassin fanfiction #svsss prompts

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Jealousy (oneshot)

Harry Potter marauders era 

Request: Hello, I was wondering if you could write a oneshot, where the reader and Regulus have a friends with benefits thing going on and they have feelings for each other but he won't admit it, so a random boy asks the reader on a date and Regulus gets super jealous and admits his feelings and they start a proper relationship. You can decide whether you want it fluffy or smutty. 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- smut

Songs in Story:  Songs in Chapter: Tiring Game by John Newman and You and your Hand by Pink

________

Our love is just a tiring game, I never want a thing to change, Our love is just a tiring game. I'll never give it up,

“Y/n, wake up. We fell asleep again.”

You yawned before yanking the blanket over your head. The last thing that you wanted to do at the moment was to think about going to potions class. All that you wanted to do was lay in the nice warm bed that you had been occupying for hours.

“Quiet yourself, Regulus. Still sleepy.”

You heard Regulus chuckle as he pulled his abandoned pants on. He sat back down on the bed and shook your leg.

“If we don’t get to class, Slughorn will figure out that we are out together. If he starts watching us then there will be no more fun.”

You knew exactly what Regulus meant by “fun.” The two of you had been in a "friends with benefits relationship" for over a year and a half. Fun meant the two of you sneaking off to some hidden section of the castle or the room of requirement to fuck your frustrations away. The arrangement had worked just fine for the most part. Both of you acted as friends during the day (with the hint of mutual pining) then at night both of you would be all over each other.

No one seemed to notice anything different about your relationship with Regulus and if any had any suspicions they didn’t speak of it. Regulus had been glued to you since your first year so it wasn’t uncommon to see the two of you together constantly.

Everything about the arrangement had been just fine for you until you started developing feelings for Regulus. The realization hit you like a brick to the stomach around month five of the “arrangement.” You had started to look beyond Regulus’ good looks to see the man who he was beneath it all. He wasn’t the shrewd, sarcastic boy that everyone else saw. With you, Regulus was gentle and cared about what you wanted or needed. He knew how to please you and often left you crying out underneath him (or on top of him).

The problem was Regulus didn’t seem interested in taking this relationship up to the next level. You would have been thrilled if he would have asked you to be his girlfriend...but it never happened. He instead seemed happy with just keeping you under his watchful gaze with the title of “best friend.”

Sitting up, you knew that if the two of you didn’t get a move on there would be no time for breakfast. Pulling your shirt on, you froze the moment that you felt Regulus’ hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, I forgot to cover up a love bite.”

You sighed as he took out his wand and pointed it to the very noticeable bite on your neck. What you didn’t say to Regulus was that you wanted to stop hiding the bites. You wanted to be able to kiss him in public...but how could you when he didn’t seem interested?

What you didn’t know was Regulus was feeling the same way. He had been silently brooding over feelings of love and desperation for the past few months and didn’t know how to deal with them. Never in his life had he had these feelings before. Now that he had them, Regulus had no idea what to do with them.

What if you didn’t love him back?

What if saying how much he loved you turned you off and you wanted nothing more to do with him?

Was Regulus ready to risk losing the chance to give you physical love if you would accept the romantic side of things?

There were so many “what ifs” that Regulus was left deciding to keep all of his feelings on the inside and suffer in silence. Suffering in silence was, after all, what he was good at. You would be yet another reason for him to keep quiet. Regulus didn’t want to lose the one bright spot in his life. The last thing that he wanted was to lose the one real friend that he had in his life. You had been his best friend since first year and hell would freeze over before Regulus let you get away from him.

“Reg, are you ready? We need to get going?”

Your voice pulled Regulus from his thoughts. He quickly looked up and nodded before throwing on his robe.

Slipping into the great hall, Evan was the first to look up when you sat down beside Regulus. He looked up over his half-eaten breakfast. You gave Evan a warning look as if begging him not to say anything. Evan was the only person that remotely knew of your “true” feelings about Regulus and had been sworn to secrecy. That didn’t mean that he had to be quiet about it in private. Evan had encouraged you multiple times to talk to Regulus but you never did.

“Good morning to the both of you. Where have you two been?”

Regulus didn’t turn to look at you. He took a sip of the drink that Evan shoved in front of him.

“Sorry, my brother and his idiot friends were pranking some poor Ravenclaw. It was such a disaster that we couldn’t look away.”

Evan chuckled.

“That is highly believable. It's like watching a world-class disaster.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes.

“Detention is their second home. If you two will excuse me a moment. I need to go talk to someone.”

Regulus knew that you were going to talk to one of your female Slytherin friends. You didn’t have many of them but the few that you had were halfway decent. Regulus didn’t feel bad giving up some of his time for the two.

“When are you going to ask her out?”

Regulus looked up at Evan’s comment.

“What?”

“You heard me. The two of you have it so bad for each other.”

Regulus snorted.

“You’re full of shit.”

Evan shrugged as Jacob Brown from Ravenclaw walked across the great hall to where you sat with Ameile Adams.

“Yeah, well, how do you feel about that boy talking to your girl?”

Regulus immediately sat up straight and frowned as he watched Jacob’s mouth moving. You, meanwhile, sat appearing stunned. Regulus didn’t like that look on your face. Was Jacob making you uncomfortable? Did Regulus need to kick his ass? If so, he didn’t mind. He was bigger than Jacob. It was more than a fair fight.

“Come on.”

Regulus snapped before getting up and storming over to where you sat with Evan on his heels like a puppy.

Jacob barely looked up when Regulus sat down beside you.

“I’ll talk to you about it soon. Thanks for the consideration.”

Jacob grinned before turning and walking off looking freakishly proud of himself. Before Regulus could ask what happened you turned to face him.

“How bizarre, Jacob asked me on a date.”

Regulus immediately felt his stomach drop to his feet. Evan’s mouth had dropped too and he didn’t dare turn to his best friend. He didn’t have to look at Regulus to know that the boy was in an internal panic.

“And you said?”

Regulus questioned. You shrugged.

“Well, I said yes. It’s just a lunch date on Saturday.”

“But my quidditch game is Saturday. You always come to that.”

Regulus immediately snapped. You frowned, slightly taken back by your best friend’s sudden horrid mood. If you didn’t know better, you would think that Regulus was jealous. You knew better than that though. That would mean that Regulus would care about you in a more than friendly way. He was probably only upset because you were going to miss his quidditch match. You, of all people, knew how much that meant to him.

“Reg, it's just one match. I come to them all.”

Regulus’ eyes were darker than normal as he glared at you. He sat a moment before muttering “whatever” under his breath before standing up and storming off.

“What the hell was that?”

You questioned. Ameile, seemed as surprised as you did. She didn’t respond as Evan laughed.

“I think Reggie is feeling a bit jealous.”

Regulus avoided you for the better part of the day. He was literally nowhere to be found and it was starting to bug you. If Regulus was so jealous of some other guy dating you then why didn’t he man up and ask you himself?

You are overthinking this. This is just about the stupid quidditch match.

You thought angrily as you stormed down to the quidditch pitch. Practice for the Slytherin team should be over within the next few minutes. If Regulus thought that he was going to get away without the tongue lashing of a lifetime then he obviously didn’t know you too well. The last thing that you were about to be was some “poor pitiful” soul.

Regulus stood talking to another teammate when you finally spotted him. Normally, you would have patiently waited for him to come to join you. As much as you didn’t care for anything athletic, you knew how much quidditch meant to Regulus would come to watch him practice or his matches. That’s what good friends did.

You could see Evan sitting in the stands in your typical place with Barty Crouch Jr. He automatically grinned before elbowing Barty in the ribs. You of all people knew that Evan was waiting for some kind of “show.” If he pulled out a bucket of popcorn, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Regulus had finally looked up. His gaze met yours before quickly looking away. He said something to the other boy and turned to go off in the opposite direction.

“Oh hell no, you didn’t”

You grumbled before going after him.

“Regulus, wait!”

He didn’t turn. Regulus apparently decided that he was going to refuse to acknowledge your presence.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, I said fucking wait! I swear to god if you don’t stop ignoring me I am going to fucking hex the hell out of you and you know that I can do it.”

Regulus finally glanced over his shoulder.

“Whatever, sweetheart. See you tonight.”

The little jab about sleeping together quickly got under your skin. Is that how he felt? Did he think that he was going to get to be inside of you after treating you like this?

“Whatever right back to you, sweetheart.”

Regulus laughed at that. His next comment was about to be very crude but he didn’t care.

“So how do you think that your little boyfriend is going to like knowing that I feed you my cock every night? Do you think Jacob will like knowing that you are fucking another guy on the regular?”

You turned and stormed off in the opposite direction before you said something that you were really going to regret later.

Ameile looked up when you barged into the common room. She was surprised to see the angry expression on your pretty face.

“Okay, Y/n?”

You shook your head.

“Hell no. I hate Regulus.”

Ameile looked totally surprised by the comment that came out of your mouth. You never said anything bad about Regulus. Ameile had literally never heard you say a single bad thing about Regulus. When Ameile began a friendship with you, she thought that the two of you were Regulus’ girlfriend. She was honestly shocked when Evan told her differently.

“What did he do?”

You sat down and slammed your head onto the headrest.

“I can’t tell you everything. He’s just being a jealous shit.”

Ameile raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, Y/n. We tell each other everything. I can assure you that there is nothing about you that would honestly shock me.”

You knew that you didn’t need to tell Ameile your biggest most guarded secret but at the moment you needed advice from someone who wasn’t Regulus.

“Fine, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone or I will hex you. Regulus and I have been friends with benefits for a while...well....well...fuck I have feelings for the git. He’s been a seething jealous little shit since Jacob asked for that date. Well, me being the joyful person that I am, decided to call him on his garbage and you know what the ass said? He had the nerve to say, see you tonight, sweetheart AFTER FUCKING AVOIDING ME ALL GOD DAMNED FUCKING DAY!”

Ameile looked totally surprised by your outburst. She had honestly figured that you were sleeping with Regulus and now that she had the confirmation she was thrilled.

“That was a little bold on his end.”

“A little bold? I want to punch his fucking face in then kiss him. What is wrong with me?”

Ameile giggled.

“Nothing. There is nothing wrong with you at all. What did you tell him?”

You laughed.

“Whatever right back to you, sweetheart. I should have said it was going to be just you and your hand but I was so mad that I didn’t think of it.”

Ameile smiled before getting up.

“Come on, let's get you a drink. Evan has some whiskey and I have access to it.”

Half an hour later, you were pleasantly buzzed yet still feeling ready to fight. Ameile had put on some record and the lyrics hit perfectly.

“Feeling better?”

Ameile asked. You nodded.

“Feeling saintly.”

You replied as Regulus stepped into the common room with Evan behind him. Both boys automatically winced at the volume of the record that was blaring. In fact, they had heard it as soon as they stepped into the dungeons.

“That noise is coming from here.”

Regulus groaned. Evan noticed his bottle of whiskey in your hand and decided that it wasn’t worth losing a limb or getting a black eye over.

“Are you two drunk?”

Evan shouted over the music. You shook your head.

“Just buzzed and enjoying our boy hating music.”

You said the last part and focused your eyes right on Regulus who was clearly hearing what the song was saying..

I'm not here for your entertainment. You don't really want to mess with me tonight. Just stop and take a second. I was fine before you walked into my life. Cause you know it's over before it began. Keep your drink, just give me the money. It's just you and your hand tonight…

Regulus waited all of three seconds before realizing this was your drunken way of telling him to piss off and that he wasn’t getting a goddamned thing from you that night.

The next morning, you awoke in your own bed for the first time in a week. Groaning, you sat up. Just what the hell had you been doing the night before and what did Ameile give you to drink?

“Hey, are you awake?”

Ameile’s voice was super cheerful and loud. You winced before moving to get a clean uniform on.

“I’m alive if that is what you are asking. Where the hell did you get that booze?”

“Rosier.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it was Evan. Evan was the guy that you didn’t take booze from. Whatever he had would knock you on your ass and leave you drunk as fuck singing songs about stuff that made no sense.

“A word of advice, never take alcohol from Evan Rosier.”

Ameile shrugged with a grin.

“Come on, let's go get some food in you. I’m sure a nice piece of toast will make you feel better.”

Stepping into the great hall, you groaned at all of the loudness that was surrounding you. Regulus was staring right at you when you finally looked up. It didn’t take you being his friend to know that he was ticked off about something.

Probably me telling him that it was just him and his hand for company.

You thought before sitting down beside Ameile. Evan was cheerfully talking to Barty about something as he turned to you.

“Good morning, star shine. You look a bit rough.”

You didn’t hesitate to flip Evan off to his face.

“Fuck you and your booze, Rosier. If I wouldn’t puke on you, I would come over and beat the shit out of you.”

Evan looked a bit taken back as Regulus took his place beside you.

“That’s rude.”

Evan commented as you whined when Ameile started scraping butter on the piece of toast in front of her.

“Would you stop?”

You snapped. The sound of the knife scratching the toast was about to drive you nuts. How long did it take someone to put goddamn butter on a goddamn slice of toast? Ameile put the bread down before putting her hands in her lap.

“Y/n.”

Regulus’ voice was soft. Finally, something that wasn’t making your head throb.

“What?”

You replied as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Can we go talk? Alone?”

“I guess.”

You said as he stood up and gently pulled you along after him.

Walking in silence, you didn’t realize where you were going until the room of requirement’s door closed behind you.

“Here, drink this.”

Regulus said before handing you a cup. You looked down at it before snorting.

“Yeah, so you can poison me?”

It was Regulus’ turn to scoff.

“Would you stop it? I wouldn’t harm you.”

You finally took a sip of the drink and felt instantly back to your normal self. Looking up, you shook your head.

“Better?”

Regulus questioned. You nodded.

“It's a good thing that you are so wonderful at potions. I felt like death. What the fuck is wrong with Evan to drink that?”

Regulus laughed.

“It's Evan that we are talking about. Look Y/n, I wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was...I was a dick and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Why did you act like that?”

You questioned. Regulus shoved his hands in his pockets before his eyes rolled up to you innocently.

“Because I love you...and knowing that you are going to go on a date with Jacob is destroying me because it's not me.”

You knew that you had to be staring at Regulus with your mouth open for a while.

“You love me?”

Regulus nodded. He knew that he had to get his feelings out before he lost you for good.

“I do. I’ve been afraid to tell you because I thought that you would reject me. It looks like that is what you are doing by going out with Jacob so I fucked everything up anyway.”

“I never told Jacob yes...for what it's worth. Furthermore, I love you too, Regulus. I’ve been in love with you for so long. You just never seemed to be interested so I kept it myself.”

Regulus reached out to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, I love you. I want to be with you.”

You placed your hand on top of his.

“I want to be with you too. Regulus, I’m yours.”

Regulus looked as if he had won the lottery.

“I’m yours too.”

The kiss was soft and timid at first before growing needy. Neither of you was the least bit worried about the need to breathe.

“The bed...get on the bed.”

Regulus moaned against your lips as your hand gently palmed him through his trousers. You didn’t have to be told twice. This was the quickest that you had undressed in a long time. Sure, sex with Regulus was enough to get you naked anytime that he asked but this time it was different. The two of you weren’t just having sex as friends with benefits anymore. You were making love as a couple.

You quickly lay down on your stomach bringing your leg up giving Regulus access to your waiting core.

“Get inside of me.”

You ordered. Regulus didn’t have to be told twice. He was on the bed behind you in an instant. His fingers gripped your hips pulling you up enough to bury himself inside of you.

Fuck, she’s dripping wet.

Regulus thought. He knew that he was going to have to stop thinking or he would explode quicker than he needed to. Regulus wanted to take things slow. He wanted to watch every moment of pleasure that graced your face. Knowing that he was going to be the only one to make you smile this way was more than enough to stroke his male ego.

Regulus set a punishingly slow rhythm. You were clearly getting annoyed with his slower than normal teasing and tried to speed Regulus up by pressing back into his body. Regulus was not about to let that happen.

“If you don’t be a good girl then I’m going to flip you over and lick your pussy nice and slow. I think you know me well enough to know that I won’t let you come.”

“I want to hold you.”

You moan as Regulus slowly pumped into you again. Regulus considered your request for a moment before pulling out enough to gently roll you onto your back. He was back inside before you had enough time to come up with something crafty. At the moment, all Regulus wanted was to show you just who you belonged to. It was him...not that Jacob guy whose name you wouldn’t remember by morning.

“Reggie.””

You cried his name before tangling one hand in his hair and the other arm around his back. Regulus’ mouth was on yours. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room along with your cries of completion, as with each thrust of his hips, you were coming closer to falling off the edge.

“Damn it, sugar, you should feel how you're spasming around me. I’m so close baby. Would you like me to finish you off?”

You feebly nodded as Regulus reached between your joined bodies to tease your clit. His middle finger went from rubbing in a up and down pattern before switching to a circular pattern then back to the original.

“Fuck, yes. Regulus, please.”

You cried out, not caring if anyone in the castle could hear the two of you fucking like bunnies. Regulus picked his speed up abusing your already spasming core over and over.

“Good girl.”

Regulus praised as you finally came. His eyes had closed as he focused on his own release. Regulus wanted nothing more than to keep fucking you until you begged for mercy but...today...that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re too fucking good, sweetheart.”

Regulus cooed, feeling his own release building. Your hand was on his cheek silently begging him to look into your eyes.

“Let me on your lap.”

Regulus silently agreed to whatever plan that you had to make him come. He sat up, stroking his length as you positioned yourself over him. Regulus groaned when you slid down onto him. Right as Regulus started to thrust again, you shook your head.

“No. Be still.”

Regulus groaned as your body gripped him tighter if possible. He wanted nothing more than to thrust up into you but he did as he was told. Regulus could be the perfect most devious of a dom but with one of the flip of the switch, he could be an obedient submissive.

“Be still, darling. Just relax. Enjoy the feeling of being inside of me. I’m still so wet, Reggie.”

He had a good idea what you were going to do. You were going to make him come just by being inside of you. This was one of your favorite activities when Regulus was desperate to come. You would sit snuggled on his lap with his cock inside of you while you stroked your fingers through his hair and whispered erotically to him.

“Not tonight.”

Regulus replied before snapping his hips one final time and coming inside of you. You moaned as his mouth closed on yours sealing the moment.

It was Regulus that was the first to move. He gently moved to lay you on your side. You only had to wait a moment before Regulus had his arms wrapped around you. Snuggling your face into his chest, you yawned happily.

“So I guess I should properly ask you to be my girlfriend?”

Regulus said with a truly happy smile. You quickly responded with a kiss.

“That’s me saying yes.”

________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @spiderxalmighty @teletubiswszpilkach @whymyparentscheckmyphone @fific7 @jessyballet @knreidy1 @criminalyetminimal @rubyroscoe1 @acciosiriusblack @bennyberry @hazncalsgal @exhsle @lucasfilms77 @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @li0nh34rt @tas898 @marichromatic @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

#Regulus Black #Regulus Black x Reader #annon request #harry potter fan fiction #marauders au #young marauders #regulus x reader #reader x regulus #Evan Rosier #barty crouch junior #timothee chalamet as regulus black #smut warning #Regulus Black request fic #Jealousy #one shot #update

[everdreamart]

Read my Thoughts

The journey through Aeor only gets more confusing as eye powers are thrown into the mix.

OR

An accidental telepathy fic where Caleb shares a bit too much to a certain drow.

Relationship: Caleb Widowgast/Essek Thelyss (Shadowgast)

Rating: Teen and Up

~~~~~

Things in Aeor are strange. Magic Especially. A teleport can send you miles away from target, and a spell gone wrong can make you bald! However, Aeor's atrocities were put on the backburner when Jester's weasel turned out to be her 'god' and the red eyes adorning the Empire Kid's bodies started to show power.

Darkvision was one thing that was quite startling to Caleb. He hadn't really noticed it with the constant flow of light emitting from Caduceus' staff and his own globules. It wasn't until Beauregard said something that it really occurred to him. Even more surprising was the telepathy. The ability to transcend one's thoughts into the mind of another. A mental link for shared knowledge. All sorts of possibilities flowed into Caleb's mind. How useful this could be in their upcoming battles with Lucien.

"Woahhhh Caleb I can literally HEAR your thoughts! Slow down a bit!" Jester marveled.

"OH Oh Beau! Can you read my thoughts??" Yasha exclaimed.

"Hey let's give it a try-" Beau smirked.

"Ok who do I love? Oh wait thats dumb.." Yasha mumbled. The rest of them started to laugh a bit.

Caleb shifted his gaze over to Essek. The drow's soft features focused on the commotion going on around him. A confused expression painting his face - no doubt from the sudden talking weasel - in a show of momentary openness. Throughout their travels in Aeor, Essek had slowly let the shadowhand persona slip away. Caleb liked this version much better. The way emotion displayed itself on Essek's face was new and nervous, but the man was truly trying to change. That alone caused something to swell in Caleb's heart.

Immediately, Essek's head snapped up and looked over at Caleb in surprise. Caleb looked away as soon as he turned his head. Did Essek hear him? He needs to get a better hold of this power. Fast. Swallowing hard, Caleb simply nodded, before turning his gaze back to their laughing friends.

-----

After a day of hard trekked travel, the Mighty Nein stumbled into the tower for a night of much needed rest. It was then that Caleb's mind started to wander. What exactly is transmitted through this telepathy? Feelings? Words? Images? The beginning pricks of worry started to crawl into his throat. Would he have to wrestle every one of his thoughts down so the others wouldn't be plagued by his memories? He glanced at the glaring red eye adorning his palm. Thick red lines seared into his skin flawlessly. Watching. Staring. Certainly these powers come with a price. And Caleb didn't know what that price was.

There's nothing he can do right now. Stay on task, Widowgast. Maybe something from the papers he picked up earlier will have more information about their enemy. With an idea for distraction in place, Caleb floats up to the library to begin opening the amber. He settles on a couch opposite from a crackling fireplace as he does so, the comforting warmth washing away the stress of the day.

Piles of books and papers fill the floor in front of him. Excitement and curiosity begin to tug at his mind. Caleb reaches out and grabs one of the dusty old tombs, tracing the foreign writing in awe. So much knowledge, packed in the papers around him. So much information to be learned and so little time.

"It's quite incredible, is it not?" A soft voice comes from behind him as Essek glides over to Caleb, staring at the collection of books.

"Ja. After our business is concluded, I would love to study more of Aeor's history and research."

"Well, we have a few moments now, do we not?" Essek smiled softly as he looked at Caleb.

And just like that, they were off. Reading through ancient texts, occasionally bouncing theories back and forth. The constant whirring of intellect trying to process the thoughts of mages from far beyond their time. It was invigorating.

However, from time to time, Caleb found it hard to keep his focus. His eyes constantly wandering back to the drow sat beside him, nose buried in a book. His thin white brows creased into a focused expression, eyes full of wonder and curiously, devouring the age old texts. The way his mouth would curl into a subtle smile when he found a particularly interesting section of text. Or how he would nibble at his lower lip when frustrated about something. He wondered if those lips would feel as good as he imagined. How soft and delicate.. Oh how glad Caleb is to have moments like these, just him and Essek.

At some point while Caleb was lost in his thoughts, Essek looked up. Violet eyes meeting blue ones.

"I uh.." Essek clears his throat. " I found a section that you might find to be interesting." He smiles and looks away.

Oh.

How much did he hear? How many of those thoughts slipped through in his tired state? Apparently enough for the subtle hints of purple creeping on the edges of Essek's ears to catch Caleb's attention.

"I think it's time for me to head to bed. I require more sleep than you do, after all," Caleb said as he stood up. It was awkward, for a moment. The silence was heavy, and he didn't dare steal a look at the drow beside him.

-----

Having your thoughts known to others feels like quite a violation of privacy. Caleb thought as he laid in his bed. I need to get a hang of this.

It took a while for him to get even close to falling asleep, for his mind was racing with thoughts.

He was on the edge of consciousness when he heard a small knock on his door. Surely all the nein are well into their sleep right now, so that means that the only person this could be is… a lump formed in Caleb's throat as he opened the door. Essek stood in front of him, a foreign expression adorned on his face.

"I hope I wasn't disrupting your rest. I would like to talk… if you don't mind?" He spoke softly as Caleb gestured him into the room.

It caught Caleb's attention immediately that the man wasn't floating, but walking instead. They sat on the couch as he responded, "Ah, I was having some trouble sleeping. You weren't interrupting anything. What is it you would like to discuss friend?"

"I ah.." He fidgeted with his fingers. The drow wasn't wearing his usual mantle, but instead the more comfortable robes that were provided to him from the tower. Caleb let his eyes momentarily linger on the way the clothing frames Essek's small figure. The way the deep blues and purples frame his gorgeous dark skin. Caleb promptly tries very hard to stuff these thoughts down.

"I took notice of the recent… developments of the eyes on beauregard's and your bodies. It… concerns me. The acquisition of such powers surely means that something was taken in exchange, and I am unsure of what that was." Essek says with worry laced in his voice. His eyes rise to meet Caleb's.

"..ja. I too am a bit uneasy about the current situation. Though it just makes our goal that much more important, does it not?" He replied, flashing a faint reassuring smile.

"I guess it does." The other wizard's gaze falls to his lap.

'That's not really what you came here to talk about. Is it?' Slips from Caleb's mind before he can even think to stop it.

The drow visibly flinches in surprise, then sighs slightly. "There was something else on my mind, yes."

Caleb slowly, ever so slowly, reaches his hand over to touch Essek's. "I'm here if something is wrong."

He is very aware of what Essek was referring to. However, he doesn't know what is going through the other man's brain, as thin smooth fingers meet his calloused ones halfway. A slight smile plays at the corners of Essek's mouth, and Caleb once again feels his focus begin to slip. He focuses on the feeling of Essek's hand in his. Soft skin, clearly not used to the harsher weather of the frozen wasteland as of late, his fingers only rough in the areas where one would hold a quill.

Strands of silver-white hair hover on his forehead, slightly covering vibrant violet eyes. Oh it is a sight to behold. Dark skin growing impersivibly darker. How he works at his bottom lip nervously. Caleb finds himself fighting back the desperate want to feel this man against him. To hold him close and study his features on a much more intimate level. Essek's ear twitches.

"I ah… I thank you for your.. Compliments..?" He stutters out as his face flushes an even darker shade of purple.

Something inside of Caleb breaks, and he finds it becoming increasingly harder to hold back the growing need to bring the wizard close.

"I apologize for not being able to return such… appraisal," the drow mumbles out, looking anywhere but Caleb's eyes. His other hand raises up Caleb's arm, settling on the crook of his neck. "I hope I can live up to your expectations, Widowgast." He smiles nervously.

Caleb's mind goes blank. Soft lips brush his own and his restraint vanishes. They crash together in feverish movements, a warm pressure on his lips that grounds him in the moment. It's so much better than he could've ever imagined. The sensation of Essek's mouth on his is something he wants to savor forever. He wants to memorize every movement and feeling of the man pushing against him, as if this was a rare slip-up and it would never happen again. Maybe he was dreaming after all, but the feeling of Essek starting to nibble at his lower lip quickly reassures him that this is very much real.

Something sharp catches Caleb's lip, and he recoils a bit in surprise. Essek immediately pulls back, a flash of worry crossing his face.

"Fangs." Caleb mutters out, breathless. "I was not aware you had fangs."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" he gets cut off by Caleb leaning in once more, capturing his mouth hungerly. His fingers lace through Essek's hair as he pushes onto him, desperate to be closer. More. He wants more.

Apparently Essek heard him, as the drow parts his mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Caleb runs his tongue over the sharpened points of Essek's fangs, feeling a shiver as he does so. They merge together, desperate to taste each other. To explore every inch. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wants this moment to last forever.

They pull away after what feels like hours, but still isn't long enough. Essek's breath dances on Caleb's lips, mere inches away. Caleb smiles and presses another quick kiss to Essek's mouth.

"I think you far surpassed my expectations, Thelyss."

#critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #Not quite canon compliant but its pretty close I think #Teef #:)

[prongsies]

Me & You Together ● George Weasley

PAIRING: George Weasley x Reader SUMMARY: George has been in love with her for ages, but he’s only saying it now WARNINGS: Mild language, slightly suggestive A/N: I got inspired by The 1975′s Me & You Together Song and fkrjdnfkrjnf there are a LOT more song-inspired fics lined up

The ballroom was beautiful, with colorful flowers adorning nearly every inch available in the large expanse of the area. Gold lined the ceilings, accenting the furniture which showed off just how much wealth the (y/l/n) family possessed. Not just that, but the visitors invited to this glorious occasion screamed rich - and George was painfully aware of just how under-dressed he was, with everyone around him adorning dress robes he was sure could pay off a year’s worth of rent.

But that doesn’t matter now, not when he’s standing in front of his best friend, who was grinning happily at him she watched him clutch the microphone tightly in his hand until his knuckles have turned white.

With his speech in his shaky hand and a slight waver in his voice, he started reading, “I remember the first time that we met, how enthralled I was by you and the fact that you didn’t care about how, in the short time we’ve been acquainted, I’ve already seen you with your top off”

Audible gasps echoed in the room from the rest of the visitors, but George’s gaze remained on (y/n), watching as she giggled, tears brimming her eyes even though he has barely started, but he continued…

—

“You’re crazy, (y/n)!” Angelina’s laughter echoed in the empty Hogwarts Grounds as she watched the Slytherin peel her clothes off one by one, happily facing her punishment for losing their last round of poker. It had been her idea after all, that instead of strip poker, the loser skinny dips in the Black Lake.

Of course, she didn’t know she would be the one to face the consequences, but she didn’t mind considering it was a one-of-a-kind experience. Everyone trailed behind her, laughing as they watched her in amusement, in disbelief that a Pureblood Slytherin would be this carefree.

Among those people was George, who, until just about an hour ago, had been adamant about letting her in the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night. I mean, why would he when her Prefect badge glimmered proudly on her chest? He thought she was there to rat them out. It was only when Lee and Angelina called her in that George stepped aside, interested in the strange relationship the girl shared with his friends.

Now, here she was, standing over the docks fully naked, grinning at all of them shamelessly. George tried, he really did, to keep his eyes focused anywhere else. But her personality really drew him towards her that his eyes keep darting back.

A wink sent his way caused his blood to rush up his cheeks, and he had to physically pat them down to cool them as he watched her dive into the lake without hesitation, squealing slightly at the cold when she resurfaced.

It was all fun and games at first until a flicker of light in the distance stole George’s attention at the same time that it did the others’.

“Shit, it’s Filch” Lee whispered towards their small group, his eyes holding panic as the light - which George had now realized was a lamp - neared. “What do we do?”

Before George could even propose a solution, he was pushed into the cold depths of the lake, bringing his teeth to chatter at the unexpected drop in temperature. He turned to glare at the culprit - his brother - watching him motion for George to hide, “keep her company, we’ll be back”

“Fred-!”

“Oh, just shut it, George” He was pulled under the wooden docks by his forearm, (y/n)’s hand atop his head as she guided him under. They watched as Filch’s figure came nearer through the slits in between the hardwood, their breaths caught in their throat as they tried their hardest not to make even the smallest of sound.

It took minutes for Filch to finish surveying the area - and George was more than happy Angelina was quick enough to gather (y/n)’s belongings, leaving no trace they were even there. They waited until the caretaker decided he’s had enough, which George didn’t mind until he came to the realization that (y/n)’s body - her bare chest - remained pressed to his back, keeping it away from view in the event the old man does catch them (and George was sure he was frozen on the spot).

It wasn’t until Filch’s disappearance and (y/n) peeling her body away from him that his breathing returned to normal. He was so sure the girl hadn’t noticed the change in his demeanor, but when she swam to face him, smirking up at him as she looked at him with a glint in her eyes, that he realized she had.

“What’s so funny?” George asked as she let out a breathy laugh, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle her adorable snort, “Oh, so you find our situation amusing?”

“Very” she replied, hands making their way onto George’s shoulders to keep her steady and afloat (she was too short that her feet didn’t even touch the bottom, even when George stood shoulder-deep). She continued, “I just never imagined you’d see me naked on our first encounter - it’s definitely a story worth telling”

“Not to my family, I hope”

“Especially to your family!” (Y/n) threw her head back in laughter. “I’d want to see their reaction if I tell them you’ve already seen me naked - without context”

“Mum’ll be furious” George laughed.

“Alright, lovebirds! Time to get out!” Angelina interjected their little moment, her head peeking out from above the docks as she presented them with two fresh robes, “C’mon! We don’t want anyone sick”

“But I’m having too much fun!” (Y/n) replied sarcastically, turning to wink at George briefly before swimming up to Angelina, “besides, I reckon the water woke George up! Saw him yawning far too many times before we got here”

“Oh, trust me! (Y/n)” Fred joined in, glancing at his brother with a teasing smirk, “It’s not the water that woke him up”

“Fred!”

—

“Who would’ve thought we’d make it here?” George snuck a look towards (y/n), watching her grin as they reminisce their old memories together.

He continued, “I certainly didn’t. When the war was starting to rise and days got a bit darker, I was afraid where our relationship would go - especially since we were in different houses. Yet you continue to surprise me, even until now…”

—

(Y/n) stood out among the students in the small group, being the only one in green among those in blue, yellow, and red. She prided herself in it, how willing she was to learn magic that would defend her from fellow-purebloods in her house.

She knew far too much, from whispers in the common room, so she knows a war is inevitable - that he’s really back and he’s here to kill.

George knows there are a million different things running through her mind right now, being a witness to her rare distracted state just as the DA meeting started. So, when she moved to stare at the pictures on the mirror in the Room of Requirement when the lesson concluded, George waved his brother off ahead of him.

He approached (y/n) cautiously, watching the way her eyes darted towards him in their reflection as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, slotting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. His chin rested on top of her head, her hands placing themselves over his she continued studying the picture of the first Order of the Phoenix.

“They were so young,” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?” George asked, too distracted by their reflections on the mirror to know what she was pertaining to.

“Lily and James Potter,” she continued, nodding at the photo, “I- I don’t think I’d know what to do if I were in their position”

“Well, knowing you,” George watched as (y/n) twisted in his arms to face him, feeling his heart bear faster when her palm rested over his chest as she stared up at him, giving him her full attention. He gulped, “knowing you, you’d fight bravely and selflessly - just as they had”

“You think too highly of me, Georgey” she giggled, resting her cheek onto her chest, humming in delight.

“As everyone should”

They were enveloped in silence again, relishing the embrace they were in before they’d have to leave the Room of Requirement and face reality all over again.

“…let’s run away”

“What?” George didn’t know if he heard her right, his eyes widening as they met (y/n)’s again.

“I said let’s run away”

George chuckled, pulling her closer to his chest in amusement, “soon love… soon”

—

“And you’ve always been there for me and Freddie,” George’s voice shook, his eyes running over the few remaining words that concluded his speech.

—

A grin made its way onto George’s face when the front door swung open, revealing (y/n) who looked far too exhausted to be visiting her friends. He knows she’s been having a rough time at work, needing to handle mountain-loads of paperwork on a daily basis as the Head Auror, and with Ron and Harry recently finishing their training, he was sure they’ve caused quite some trouble the former-Slytherin had to handle.

She flashed him a small smile when their eyes met, darting straight to the dining room to place a paper bag onto the table. “I’ve got us dinner”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually live with us, love” Commented Fred as he emerged from the bathroom, a grin onto his face as well, at the sight of her, “you’re here everyday, might as well move in, right?”

“You know you two make me feel less lonely” she pushed Fred’s face away when he tried to plant a sloppy kiss on her cheek with a giggle, “besides, I’ve heard from a little birdie that you’re gotten a date with Angelina, Freddie”

“I’m guessing that little birdie’s our ickle Ronnikins?” Fred chuckled, eyes darting towards George in a glare for a brief moment before turning his attention back to (y/n), slinging an arm over her shoulder, “well you’ve heard wrong, darling, because it’s actually George here who’s gotten a date with her”

“Oh,” her voice held surprise as her head snapped towards George, eyes holding a look he’s never really seen from her before. George noticed Fred’s subtle movement, shaking her a bit which seemed to bring her back to reality as she flashed him a tight-lipped smile, “well, I’m happy for you - truly”

“I’m feeling quite famished,” Fred broke the tension, finally stealing that kiss on the cheek from (y/n) who shoved him away with a laugh, “We’re so lucky we have you bringing us dinner almost everyday, love. Pretty sure we’ll end up burning the entire kitchen down if we attempt cooking anything other than instant noodles”

—

“…even when there are times I can’t be there for you…”

—

“You alright, Freddie?” George’s voice rang through the quiet flat, seeing Fred sitting at their dining table with his head in his hands, a sheet of parchment laid out in front of him, “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing” Fred murmured, shaking his head as he attempted to compose himself, tucking the sheet into his journal in a haste, tossing it onto the counter as he stood up to leave, “I’m off for a bit - don’t wait up”

With that, he grabbed his coat from the rack, rushing to put it on as he made a beeline towards the door, leaving George in silence. Unconsciously, his eyes darted towards the journal, intimidated by the corner of the parchment still sticking out as he neared it.

He knows he shouldn’t do it, that he should respect his twin brother’s privacy - but with the war that happened not so long ago he has this need to know, this need to inform himself before anyone can get the upper hand at him. What if the letter was a death threat? Merlin knows they’ve received too much of them the time they released products like You-Know-Poo. He’s almost lost his brother once, he doesn’t want to go through it again.

So, with a deep inhale, George snatched the letter from between the pages, opening it hurriedly, afraid he’ll get caught.

His breathing came out in heavy pants as he read through the familiar handwriting:

Fred —

I remember telling you how stupid it was for you to think I’d regret rejecting your wedding proposal just so we could get mother off my back. I mean, I thought she’d finally let go of the arranged marriage idea when she blasted me off the family tree. I guess I was wrong.

I found out today that she had arranged for me to marry Rodolfo Avery in a month, and I think it’s for the best that I agree. You see, I’m not really getting younger, am I? Even if you’ve told me years ago to wait for George to get his shit together it seems it’s a lost cause - he’s deeply in love with Angelina, I don’t want to get in the way. Besides, Rodolfo can be quite a gentleman if he wanted to - husband material? Guess I’ll have to wait for the wedding to know.

I’d appreciate it if you two attend the engagement party as my Men of Honor (if there’s such a thing), I’d really want to see some familiar faces there considering most of the attendees are of Rodolfo’s choosing. I hope you can keep this letter between us, I don’t want to drag your brother in this mess. The invitations are sent out tomorrow so watch out for my owl!

With love and probably too much alcohol in my system, (y/n).

—

“George?” Fred’s voice brought him back to reality.

George blinked a few times, eyes focusing slowly towards the girl sat in the middle of the room, watching in confusion as George remained silent, ceasing his speech abruptly. He looked down at the parchment again, reading the last sentence, ‘There is nothing more I’d want in the world than to see you happy’, before looking back up.

Is she really happy?

The letter she wrote said otherwise. She was waiting for him, even after all these years. She was the one who decided it was all over for them, decided to push through this marriage even though she knows she wouldn’t be happy.

She decided to settle for someone else just because he’s been too chicken to admit he’s always loved her.

“George, come back here!” Fred snapped in a hushed whisper, tugging the hem of George’s robes. But George wasn’t moving consciously right now. No, his feet felt like they have a mind of their own as they moved towards the center of the room, bringing him in front of (y/n) who looked just as surprised as he was.

“Hi, George” She grinned up at him, eyes holding the same glint it did when they had first met, “you alright?”

“More than” he replied breathlessly, “(y/n)…”

“George”

“I’ve been in love with you for ages” he blurted out, glancing at the soon-to-be-groom nervous, only to see him nodding his head encouragingly. He knows. “And as I look at you right now, I know only one thing: that I want to be the one calling you my wife in the future”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I’m saying let’s run away together”

(Y/n) smiled, her memories of that time she said those exact same words to him in the Room of Requirement replaying in her head. She looked down at George’s outstretched hand, then back up at him, smiling at the way his hands shook in nervousness, uncertain if she would give him the time to make it up to her.

It’s all up to her now. The decision is hers.

With a wink at her -now- ex-fiancee, she grabbed George’s hand, allowing him to pull her up from her seat, out the front door, and into the night.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you

[gusu-emilu]

and you can use my skin to bury secrets in

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Qing

Summary: Jiang Cheng ties himself with Zidian. Wen Qing has some prideful (if conflicted) thoughts about the core transfer.

Rated M, Sunshot Campaign, Bondage, Referenced Canon-Typical Violence, WQ has needles but nothing really happens with them

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

As Wen Qing slowly unties the layers of fabric, she wonders if Jiang Wanyin's robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

'Rising.' She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

The night is quiet. Dense. Wen Qing could disappear into the forest if she wanted to. Should disappear, should flee this supervisory office that is now littered with corpses and corrupted talismans.

She doesn’t know why she is back in front of the gate of the Yiling settlement, where anyone could easily spot her as the only body that isn’t mutilated on the ground. She tells herself it’s to inspect the carnage, to determine if her clansmen really were each killed in a different way, but she doesn’t look at the bodies as she walks down the path to empty buildings. Doesn’t look at anything, really. Her sight is all dizzy moonlight and visions of A-Ning.

He could be anywhere by now. Officers from Qishan seized him from the dungeon a day after Wen Qing was thrown in next to him. He had still been bloody, bruised, delirious when they took him away.

Wen Ruohan plays his hand well. He allowed her enough time with A-Ning to see the price for saving the Jiang siblings from Lotus Pier, and no more. Now their empire is falling, A-Ning will be caught in the crossfire, and she doesn’t even know where he is.

The door of the main office creaks as she pushes it open. The floorboards creak, too, under her feet, unless that’s just the sound of her joints fighting with each other as she wanders toward a place she should not be returning to.

Her hand slips inside her robes and closes around a small hard object in a velvety cloth. It is made of wood. Rich hornbeam wood. It should feel heavier than the paper-light weight of an empty promise.

I can hide you in our shelter outside Yiling, he had said, outside the dungeon where Wen Qing is now standing. Just for the night. I can keep you safe. In the morning, the spies will have news of where your brother is, and then you can go.

So simple it all was for him. Come with him to Lotus Pier, come with him to the shelter, keep this gift in her robes, leave her clan. Words of a man who knew their uselessness, yet still said them.

The words give her no comfort. And yet, they settle inside her with a faint warmth.

Unfortunately, warmth is worth very little in war.

She is inside the dungeon now. Somehow she remembered it being darker than this. There is enough moonlight creeping through the slits of the slightly-opened shudders to reveal the room’s sharp angles and cold corners, a drab wooden table and stool, a flat hard bed. A room of brittleness not even softened by the layer of dried grasses littered across the floor.

She must stand there for a while, because she doesn’t know what happens in the moments between when she lays eyes on the spot where she had found A-Ning curled up and bloodied, and when she hears, “Wen-guniang,” in a low, resonant voice behind her.

Immediately everything becomes crisper. She can see the individual strands of hay on the stone floor, smell the dull musk of the dungeon, hear footsteps come one bit closer.

She turns around.

Jiang Wanyin is standing just inside the dungeon. His arms are at his sides, slightly bent and tenser than should be comfortable, and his fists are not much better—one tightly clutching a sword and one hanging hesitantly under a thin silver snake around his wrist. His shoulders are broad, his chest raised like he’d deflate if his upper body didn’t displace enough air.

Indeed, now he wears the robes of a clan leader, and fills them. But his face still has that same naïve mixture of distress and wonder as when Wen Qing healed a gash in his leg on a boat in Caiyi Town.

“Wen-guniang.” His lips are soft and slightly parted, offensive in how they call after her with concern. “Why did you come back here?”

She has no obligation to answer him, so she doesn’t. She turns back to the dungeon to stare at the spot on the floor where she once held A-Ning.

Quiet footsteps. Jiang Wanyin is right behind her now. She can’t feel his breath, but she can hear its pattern clearly enough that it might as well be touching her. “Come back to the shelter with me,” he says.

“A-Ning would be safer in this dungeon than wherever he is now.” Her voice sounds far away.

Jiang Wanyin is quiet for a while. Then his feet shift, and she catches the sound of another of his too-swollen breaths. “Wen-guniang. Come back with me. You’ll be safer in the camp.”

A scoff rises up her throat. She walks over to the vacant spot on the floor and sits down on the sparse blanket of hay, hugging her knees into her chest with her back against the cold wall. She’s not sure why she is letting Jiang Wanyin watch her do this, but it doesn’t especially matter. She has seen Jiang Wanyin more vulnerable than he will ever see her.

Without needing to look, she can tell that Jiang Wanyin’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes are glistening with worry so abrasively genuine it would grate on her like scales if she let it.

She has felt the gaze of men before. A filthy, unwanted thing it is, like scooping up clear water in her hands only to find mud stuck under her fingernails.

Yet Jiang Wanyin’s gaze is something completely other. When she cups it, it settles in the lines of her palms. It wets her fingertips, waiting for her to seal another wound in his skin. Or perhaps cut a new one.

But she knows what Jiang Wanyin’s limit is. His care for her does not extend to A-Ning or the rest of her family—and with the war, what can she expect?

She does not want his concern. What she really wants is to sit here alone and cry.

It could be easily arranged. One flick of her wrist, a needle in the side of Jiang Wanyin’s neck, and she could cry in peace as he crumples to the floor and sleeps. There are kinder ways to make him leave her alone, but this one is the fastest, so she’s on her feet with a needle between two of her fingers.

She doesn’t throw it.

Instead she strides toward Jiang Wanyin with the needle held up for him to see. Once she is close enough, he catches her wrist.

His eyes are wide. “W-Wen-guniang—”

She pulls away and slips the needle back into her sleeve, leaving his hand hanging. The silver chain of Zidian waves back and forth beneath his wrist.

Neither of them moves.

She supposes she’s testing him as she raises the needle once again. It turns, slowly, like a compass pointing toward his cheek. Every part of his body freezes except for his eyes warily following the sharp tip as it draws closer to his face, until it rests on his cheekbone.

His breath is louder now. Unstable.

A bang hangs just over his cheek, so she presses the length of the metal against his hair and trails the tip along the side of his face, barely grazing his skin, until she has carefully tucked the bang behind his ear.

He swallows. His Adam’s apple looks like it wants to escape his throat.

There is no bang on the other side of his face, so she just touches the needle to the top of his ear and traces along its rim, slow and light enough to torment. When the tip is halfway down his ear, his teeth chatter.

He sucks in a breath and finally meets her eyes. From the eager terror swallowing his expression and the way he’s working to keep his mouth closed, his state of mind is obvious.

Jiang Wanyin would do anything she asked.

How nice it would be, to have control over something. Wen Qing has long known the authority that comes with her position—the orders and paperwork, the entire Qishan medical inventory, the health of Wen Ruohan, the safety of her family—and she has control over exactly none of it.

Her position is all false security when A-Ning is dangled over her head.

But Jiang Wanyin…

He would do anything she asked.

Anything except leave her to cry alone in this dungeon, or save her family.

But that might be enough for now. Too much has been asked of both of them since the Sunshot Campaign began.

One hand still at his ear, she hides the needle in her robes with a flick of two fingers. She strokes the side of her thumb along his cheek. It sends a rush through her.

“Why did you follow me here, Jiang Wanyin?”

“I—you could have been—”

She traces a finger along his jawline, his bone much sturdier than he is before her. “Has it not occurred to you that I can take care of myself?”

His only answer is a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. Wen Qing has seen him in many states of turmoil—his shy glances in the Cloud Recesses, his outburst in Yiling at the sight of her Wen robes, his utter emptiness as he lay in mountain grass waiting for “Baoshan Sanren”—but this is a type of turmoil she has never quite seen.

“Kneel.”

A staggered gasp escapes Jiang Wanyin’s lips.

He blinks at her a few times, then drops to his knees.

* * *

Every one of his muscles is shaking. His breath is caught in his throat—or maybe he has forgotten how to breathe—and he wonders if he might suffocate like this, quivering on his knees and waiting for Wen Qing to move.

He ducks his head, trying to hide the burning in his face, but he knows she can see every inch of him. That makes him burn hotter. He wonders if she can hear his heartbeat, how it fights against his inability to just get some damn oxygen inside himself.

He is a clan leader. She is an enemy. He should be on his feet, not kneeling at hers.

As if Wen Qing can sense this, she takes a step closer and says, “Jiang-zongzhu.”

He thinks he makes a noise. Maybe a grunt. Maybe a squeak. He’d rather not know what it is.

He has responsibilities, Wei Wuxian is still missing, his people are injured—

But it all fades away, lost in the dimness of the room.

He does not feel like a clan leader now.

He realizes that Wen Qing is making some kind of gesture, and with effort he lifts his gaze enough to see her holding the comb in front of herself, casually displaying the gift he gave her as though it is just a doctor’s tool she happens to have.

Surely she must know what that comb means. She must know how much courage it had taken to buy it, how much more it had taken to give it to her, and it stings for her to wave it so easily before him.

She lowers the comb and disappears behind him. Her footsteps are soft and chilling on the stone floor, and they stop closer to him than he expected. The silence that follows is agonizing. He curls his fingers into his robes at his sides, the shuffle of fabric just audible enough to fill the stifling emptiness.

Light pressure at the top of his head. Feathery. Phantomlike.

This should not be enough to break him already—it isn’t, he isn’t—but he shivers and grips his robes tighter.

Thin fingers gently tug at his hair, removing his hairpiece with such precision that even as Jiang Cheng’s mind falls apart into alternating screams of make it stop make it stop and touch me more touch me more, he can sense how methodically her fingers work through his hair.

Once the metal hairpiece is out, he is left plain, unornamented.

He is certainly not a clan leader now.

* * *

The silver hairpiece gleams in her hands. The moonlight seems to be drawn to it, as if it knows that this is the only valuable object in this dungeon. The only thing that isn’t worn and beaten. The blue glow from the window does not even shine on Wen Qing or Jiang Wanyin as much as it illuminates this piece of embellished silver.

She drops it to the floor.

Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders draw up at the harsh clang of metal on stone.

For a brief moment, she considers removing her own hairpiece as well. But instead she runs the comb through Jiang Wanyin’s hair, draws his locks into a bun like raising a curtain. Then she decides she likes his hair better down and takes the bun out. Jiang Wanyin winces at the light tug.

She repeats that several more times, running the comb and her fingers through his soft hair, tying it up and taking it down, sometimes pausing to study the creation she has made, sometimes pulling it apart right away.

It’s comforting, to do and undo him as she pleases. She has felt many bodies under her hands, zipping and unzipping them with finality, leaving a permanent imprint whether the result was successful or not. It’s nice to be able to alter the work of her hands however many times she wants. To have someone so obliging, who lets her be impatient and indecisive with no consequences, who melts a little more with every stroke of her fingers in his hair.

Jiang Wanyin, too, she has remade. It is only right for her to tweak him a bit more until she is satisfied.

Especially since, if the rumors are true, her remaking of Jiang Wanyin has left Wei Wuxian coreless in the Burial Mounds, another corpse thrown onto the heap of resentment.

She tugs the bun out more sharply this time. Jiang Wanyin makes a feeble, pained noise.

In the end, she finishes with the bun tied. When she circles back in front of him, it is clear that it was a good decision, as the sharp lines of his face are both more boyish and more mature with his hair drawn back.

He glances up at her.

A bright streak of violet binds his wrists and wraps around a beam on the ceiling. His arms shoot over his head, his hands tied.

Judging by the look of horror on Jiang Wanyin’s face, he is just as surprised as she is.

* * *

“Is this something it does often?”

Jiang Cheng can’t bear to look at Wen Qing, but he can clearly see the smirk on her face just from the amusement in her voice.

This is, in fact, not something that happens.

Zidian has never acted without him telling her to.

He struggles against the whip cords enough to realize that they are so tight around his wrists that he can barely rock his shoulders.

His face is on fire.

Did he…did he tell Zidian to do this?

“No need to hurry,” Wen Qing says, her voice slick, teasing. “Release yourself for now.”

“I—I—” He stops himself, because he doesn’t know which would be more embarrassing, to admit that he had no control over his own weapon, or to say that he tied himself up with it on purpose. He retracts Zidian with a crack, and his hands fall limp at his sides.

“First,” Wen Qing says slowly, “ask me to remove your robes.”

Jiang Cheng jerks his head up, and immediately he knows it was a mistake to look. He almost shatters under the hawklike sharpness of Wen Qing’s gaze, the steady attentiveness of eyes trained to notice every detail of the body.

He forces his limbs to function enough for him to begin to stand. He immediately regrets that, too, because the best he can manage is to stagger weakly to his feet.

Once he straightens himself up, he is much taller than Wen Qing. Much broader. Funny that even as he towers over her, he feels tiny.

He stands there for a while, trying to will the heat out of his face and slow his breathing.

Ask me to remove your robes, his mind repeats.

Some traitorous part of him claws up his throat, ready to beg for Wen Qing to take off his robes, to take off everything, take off his clan and his name and his body until he is nothing more than a heartbeat in her hands.

Instead, he straightens his spine and sets his jaw.

The corners of Wen Qing’s mouth twitch. She reaches up and strokes Jiang Cheng’s upper lip with the tip of her finger. “Can’t speak?”

His lips quiver. They part slightly, and her finger enters his mouth just the smallest amount.

He pulls away and scowls. “I can speak just fine,” he says, ignoring how much his voice cracks.

“Prove it.”

He does not prove it.

But he does hold his arms out at his sides for Wen Qing to remove his robes, closing his eyes as he waits, as if sealing his vision would stop his dignity from rushing out of him like a river.

* * *

As Wen Qing slowly unties and slides away the layers of fabric, she wonders if these robes are from before the burning of Lotus Pier, or if they are a new acquisition. A new asset for the rising Jiang Clan.

Rising. She almost laughs at that thought.

This man, trembling and frightened, hot skin exposed more each second, is Wen Qing’s greatest act of treason.

By opening and sealing Jiang Wanyin’s meridians on that mountain and hiding that pulse of gold inside him, she has enabled revenge to fall upon Qishan much faster than it would have come on its own.

The Wen Clan struck down the Jiang, only for Wen Qing to recreate its power.

It’s too bad Wen Ruohan will ever know. At last, something she would not object to being thrown in a dungeon and beaten for, a crime she has full ownership of, and it is a secret that will soon die with her and A-Ning and has probably died already with Wei Wuxian.

She blocks out the pain of that thought.

Jiang Wanyin’s robes fall to the floor.

He gasps, and his gaze darts around for a few moments. Then he slowly looks up, as if expecting something he is too afraid to ask for.

“You may tie yourself now,” Wen Qing says.

Jiang Wanyin averts his gaze, hesitating. Then he kneels, and bright violet cords appear around his wrists and lock over the beam on the ceiling once more. He hangs forward with his arms over his head.

This is much better. Jiang Wanyin had been fully clothed during the core transfer, as the operation was purely one of spiritual energy. Now Wen Qing can see the taut muscles under which her treachery lives.

She smiles.

* * *

Coolness rushes through Jiang Cheng’s body. He feels a strange sense of release, as if something heavy inside him has slithered out through his fingertips into the binds of Zidian and left him weightless.

But Wen Qing’s scrutinizing gaze is even more unbearable than before, now that it is upon his bare skin. He fights the urge to squirm, to hide, to rip away Zidian’s restraints and run out the door. At least Wen Qing had the mercy to leave his trousers on.

A growing urge swells in him, and he wants to hear her voice. To feel her hands on him.

Touch me.

Want me.

He musters the courage to meet Wen Qing’s eyes again, and she is smirking. He thinks his entire body shrinks to half its size.

“Are you waiting for me to say something?” she asks.

He bites his lip.

“I have seen many men, Jiang Wanyin.” She paces in a circle around him, each of her footsteps calculated, reverberating through the floorboards and into his nerves, giving him goosebumps. “Are you waiting for me to call you remarkable? To marvel at you?”

She kneels in front of him. She smells like smoke and ash.

Jiang Cheng wants to lean forward, tangle his face in her hair and bury his lips in her neck and rest with his head on her shoulder, but the biting restraint of Zidian holds him back. Perhaps it is better that way. He can do nothing wrong, can make no mistakes, when he is powerless like this.

Security courses through him, sweet and hot.

Wen Qing places her hands on his shoulders. He can’t stop the moan from escaping.

She rubs his arms, which have stopped straining against Zidian and now relax even more as she squeezes and massages his muscles, runs her hands down to his collarbone and digs her thumbs into the sides of his neck. He shudders as one hand slides down his chest and presses into his lower abdomen. With the other hand, she grabs his chin and gently draws it forward.

Jiang Cheng lost control of his breath long ago. Tension he did not even know he held onto is disappearing from his body, pried away by Wen Qing’s hands.

He wants to curl up and crawl away.

He wants more.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Wen Qing says, her expression intense, unreadable. “I will tell you one thing.”

She presses firmer on his abdomen, above his navel, as if digging inside him.

“You will be a powerful clan leader.”

Heat blazes over Jiang Cheng’s face, to the tips of his ears, down his neck. He closes his eyes, fights the primal urge to flee and hide.

“Don’t make any mistakes."

He shakes his head. “I—I w-won’t…”

“Good.” Her hand lifts from his abdomen and finds its way to his jaw. She cups both sides of his face, her hands steady and slightly calloused.

“I won’t harm your people,” Jiang Cheng murmurs. “I’ll—I’ll protect you.”

Wen Qing sighs. Rubs a thumb over his cheek. Then again, closer to his lips.

Somehow, he dares to open his eyes. “Would—would you—please—”

She tilts her head.

He swallows. Zidian sparks around his wrists, as if she is just as eager. Selfish little thing.

Wen Qing seems to consider it for a few moments. “Close your eyes.”

He does not want to. He wants to see her lean in, see her eyelashes lower—

Wen Qing raises two fingers to each of his eyes and closes them.

“If we are lucky,” she says quietly, “we will never meet again.”

She silences him with her lips before he can reply.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

#mdzsnet #chengqing #jiang cheng #wen qing #mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #cql fanfic #emilu fics #emilu creations

[jjfics]

Room 19 ll 02

ship: Harry Potter x female!Reader

read part one here

summary: they finally meet the mysterious wizards after getting to know each other better that same morning

author: your bestie Jane Jack, also known as JJ

word count: 1760 (it is a bit shorter this time)

a/n: i am so so so happy some of you liked the first part so i will continue with this story. i wasnt on call this time so no news from my bff, sorry, ill ask them for a cool quote for next time though!

“Thank you, darling. We’ll take the seats in the corner. Could you bring us two coffees and,” Potter turned to look at you and raised his eyebrows “one croissant?” You nodded shyly.

“That would be 13£, but I’ll only charge you 10, the croissant is on me,” the woman taking your order smiled. “Since you have such a pretty girlfriend” she winked.

Your cheeks flushed red as Potter pulled your waist impossibly closer to him. “I know, right?” he chuckles.

The walk to the cafe was silent, but it felt different than the trip you two had the other day. There was no need to talk. In fact, you felt as though the moment you would open your mouth you would say something stupid about what happened last night, like apologizing for taking up so much space or doing something so unprofessional. But you did not want to apologize, because you had never felt less sorry for something. There was this weird energy between the two of you. You craved the feeling of being close to him again.

The table Potter chose was very strategic. The predictable head of the group of wizards and witches who called themselves the Forsakens would choose the grandiose table in the middle of the cafe. So the corner was a shadowed place where you would not have been recognized while you could very easily observe the others.

Still, benefits are tied to come with cons and so you were forced to cuddle into each other once again on a small leather couch. His hand did not leave your waist even as you sat down. It was hard not to notice such details, like how he could not keep eye contact for long when you spoke, how your hands brushed together when you both leaned over the table to take a sip of your hot coffee. You blamed it all on the weird situation you were in. In any other circumstances, he would not have been behaving like this, for sure.

“Hey, Potter. Could I ask you something?”

“You know you don’t have to call me Potter, right?” he smiled.

“We are work colleagues,” you said, but you wished you didn’t. Because you knew very well that saying things out loud only makes them more real.

“Yeah, but I don’t call you y/ln. I never heard you say you don’t like it when I call you y/n.” You did like it, it made you feel welcomed whenever talking to him, which until this morning was very rare. But you were not going to tell him that and feed his ego even more.

“It’s acceptable, but mind you, you are on thin ice,” you pointed a finger at him and his hand shifted softly on your waist as he laughed.

“It would be acceptable for you to call me Harry too, you know? I mean, we are supposed to be dating after all. For the mission.”

“For the mission” you agreed

“So you will call me Harry?”

“I will,” you promised. The gesture of reassurance alone made his head float.

While waiting for the Forsakens to appear you found out a lot about Harry. Many things surprised you. The papers always lie to make everything more attractive to their readers, but they also leave out the small details. Like how Harry still has panic attacks, even long after the war. How he always has nightmares about all the people he cared about.

“I feel sorry knowing this now,” you tried to empathize but it wasn’t going that well. You had never been part of war before.

“You don’t have to be. Not today, at least. I had quite a pleasant dream last night.”

“Oh, did you? And what was it about then?”

"Someone hugged me. I think it was a woman; I’m not sure. I didn’t get to see her face.”

“Is that all you remember?” you persisted. It broke your heart to know that this was his idea of a good dream: nothing extraordinary, but the most mundane form of comfort.

“Yeah, that’s all. What I know is that she was there in the beginning. It felt like she always had been” his eyes were distant as he talked. “She left me, and I was once again alone.”

And it was then that it all made sense to you. He was nice to you now because there were no nightmares to haunt him through the day.

You turned to face him and got really close to his face. “I’m so sorry. For being so shitty with you the other day,” you whispered. “It was just the stress from work.”

“I know.” he smiled. “It’s alright. I let myself get carried away too. We need to cooperate for the mission.”

“So does that mean that our little argument and Ben Nelson stepping in will not be included in the letter to the Minister for Magic?” you raised your eyebrows.

“Oh I totally am not telling Hermione any of that.” he laughed. “No, that will stay between us.”

It was around 11 am that you spotted some oddly dressed people enter the already busy cafe. In the lead was a tall woman who wore black heels and a long red satin dress with robes of a darker shade draped over her shoulders. Her face was covered by a long curtain of dark curly hair.

Just behind her were two other women, both slightly shorter. Those were dressed in the same way the first one was; the colors were the only thing that varied: their fair skin was adored by greens and purples.

The two men following them were both dressed in black suits that would not make them attract much attention if it weren’t for their companions.

The dark-skinned woman who was so obviously the one making decisions pointed to the big table in the middle of the cafe and her followers seated themselves. No words were spoken as she left them and entered a door the waitress once had.

“These must be them. They fit the description perfectly,” you mumbled and Harry nodded beside you.

“The head’s name is Anika. She has connections to the waitress as her mom’s sister. Anika is muggle-born. She never told her aunt that she’s a witch but she and her gang are allowed to gather here sometimes.” Harry said in a monotone voice. What a good professor he would have been.

“I read the instructions, Harry” you rolled your eyes at him. He smiled when he heard his name come from your lips.

“‘M just making sure, y/n.”

Anika returned quite quickly and she sat down on the side with the men, facing the other women. She took out a leather notebook from her robes and put it in the middle of the table.

“Does anyone know why it’s still here?” you could faintly hear her cold voice. Everyone else around her shook their heads.

“Heajin and I did our part.” the woman dressed in purple said defensively.

“So did Aaron and I,” one of the men on Anika’s right said more calmly, almost like he was trying to prove a point.

“I don’t care about what any of you did,” she looked them one by one in the eye. “I don’t want to hear you brag about how hard the task was for you, Aaron and Heajin. You two have always found everything challenging. I would normally be more forgiving, congratulate you even. But I can’t as long as this piece of absolute rubbish hasn’t dissolved.” Anika pointed to the notebook. “Understood?” she hit the table with her palm. The others did not flinch.

All of them nodded angrily, got up, and left the cafe in a rush. But it seemed as though their boss was not done talking yet. She scoffed, annoyed at the others’ behaviors, and vanished through the door after them.

Whatever you were expecting to happen today, was not this. The short discussion you had just overheard from your corner only brought more confusion. You had expected them to be a group of foolish wizards who want to rebel. But you had never expected them to be talking about real tasks. Rethinking everything now, you came to the conclusion that the situation was serious if Hermione Granger-Weasley sent her best two Aurors (and those had been her words) on a mission personally. She considered Ron one of the best too of course, but she would never risk his life if she could help.

It would make no sense for you to follow them. They would be back here the next day. Harry took out his wallet and put 15 pounds next to his cup on the table. He intertwined your fingers with his and got up as well. “Let’s go, love,” he said loudly enough, announcing that you were leaving now too.

Harry didn’t bother to look back at the cafe but you turned your head last second to see if anyone had a weird reaction to what had just happened. And you saw it sitting there. The small leather notebook was left in the middle of the table. No one seemed to take notice of the piece of rubbish being left behind. You squeezed Harry’s hand and he stopped just as he wanted to open the door and leave. You dragged him over to the table to make it less obvious.

“Look, babe, I told you there was a stain on the tablecloth on this one,” you said sweeping your hand over it and clenched your hand around the notebook. “It’s better that we sat over there.” Harry squeezed the hand that was still in his. He got your message.

You were panting hard as you threw the hotel door open. It was quite the work-out you got from running back here. Harry was behind you, locking it right back shut. You ran to the window and pushed it hard. Your whistle could be heard for miles probably. There was no time left to worry over your owl’s whereabouts as she was there in less than a minute.

She landed on your shoulder and bit your ear softly. “Good girl, Idiv.” you petted her grey head.

“y/n.” he shouted your name. “y/n, come here please!”

“What?” you turned around.

“We need to let Hermione know everything. As soon as possible. Get a quill ready.” he rushed you.

“Shouldn’t we read the notebook first?”

“Oh sure we will but we better start writing already and send Idiv on her way to the Ministry.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. tag list!

@ur-riddikulus @anyqueen008 @fuckingalohomora-bitch

#harry potter #hp #harry james potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fic #harry potter post war #harry potter series #hp fanfic #hp imagine #hp fic #hp fanfiction #hp x reader #harry james potter imagine #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter fluff

[fallingoverharrypotter]

If We Make It Through January 7th

Draco and Harry on the wrong side of the holiday season, making the gloom a little bit brighter. Also on AO3 here.

I’m barely through the front door of the place before I catch a glimpse of the man behind the counter and freeze up. Right there in the doorway.

A frustrated cough comes from behind me, and I hear a rude “excuse me.”

I swear. “Sorry,” I move out of their way, back onto the icy cobblestones: the patron flicks me an insincere smile as they hurry into the warmth of the bakery, and the door shuts in my face with a clang. The noise of the store, regular café sounds and music with it. That’s unfortunate, as Diagon still has Christmas jingles incessantly twinkling across the cold brick back and forth down the alley on this side of the new year, and that’s… only one part of the reason I want to enter.

Surely there are other places on Diagon that sell hot drinks and buns this late on a Wednesday. But… I know there aren’t. Even in muggle London.

Going home empty handed on Monday was one thing, but going home empty handed on Wednesday seems out of the question.

The cheerful drawings of smiling faces and steaming pastries on the glass are mocking me - there’s raucous noise of laughter just from the other side of the windows. I’m drawn up close and shivering in my winter robe, and it’s so cold that the warming charms keep wearing off. There are the sludgy remnants of snow on the cobbles, and I had to save myself from a couple of falls on the way down here. The blush on my cheeks is definitely from the embarrassment of the wobbles, but thankfully it’ll be passed off as the bite of the air. He probably won’t realise a difference anyway.

I take a deep breath, and go to reach for the door again, but then my hand stops, barely within my control. I close my eyes and try once more. Breathe deep, hand out to grasp the handle. I pretend not to think about whether any patrons of the bakery are staring at me through the glass. I hypothesise that if this takes me longer than five minutes, I’ll get an Auror called on me for drunk and disorderly, and wouldn’t that truly make my day.

Suddenly, it’s too much. I don’t even want to see his face. Wednesday pastries will just have to go without. It’s a silly tradition anyway. Surely if I’m ever allowed to forgo a habit, it would be as a new year’s resolution. It was his neurotic practice anyway. Probably one of those things I should toss out like I did all the rest of his stuff.

I take another deep breath and point my chin up, stare challengingly at one stupid smiling figure on the glass, and turn to make my way down to the other apparition point at the end of Diagon.

Stupid ex-boyfriends and stupid bleeding-heart holiday seasons. I manage to keep my feet reasonably stable as I walk down the almost icy path on this darker end of the street.

Unfortunately for me, however, a loud noise startles me and I completely wipe out.

A loud grunt expels itself from my chest as my back hits the ground. Thankfully my neck and head seem to be pretty well protected by the thick green scarf I’ve got wrapping me up, but my ass doesn’t fair all that well. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, and groan as I roll over onto my side. I wince when a sharp twinge in my back is set off with my movement.

Thankfully I’m not alone in my predicament, because the noise that startled me was an initial slick sharp sound of a slip against the icy cobbles. I tilt my head up and see heavy black boots, worn just slightly at the sole, and the figure of their owner, a man in amongst a mountain of sludgy snow that someone had just moved to the side instead of vanishing. I mutter to myself about the absolute travesty which is Diagon without proper foot traffic. People here get bloody careless this time of year.

I push myself up by my gloved hands, now soaked, along with the backside of my cloak. “Are you alright?” I half-heartedly direct to the man who I can hear angrily muttering to himself in his current position. I have to pay direct attention to getting my feet under me so that I don’t make another trip, but I do finally stabilise myself. I sigh crossly. My penance for getting so startled is that I don’t immediately get to grab my wand and dry myself off.

The man sighs too. His reply is muffled, but I think I can make out a “yep”. Charming.

He’s not moving though, so I huff out a breath impatiently and wander over to where he lies carelessly under an awning, face shadowed from Diagon’s twinkling lights. Good King Wenceslas chimes out of the charms on the street, and seems to mock me, and I have to force myself to think of how best to rectify this. I hope this guy isn’t drunk. Or maybe I hope he is, so that I can just call the aurors to deal with this.

“Are you pissed?” I ask, just to know.

“I wish.” Is his muffled reply. “Would be a bit less embarrassing if I were, I think.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you get up?”

“Yep.” He repeats, and then groans again as he pulls himself out of the soaking wet, dirty grey cushion, that is the snow bank.

My mouth drops open. “Potter?”

And, yep indeed. It’s Potter. He’s leaning back on gloved hands when he looks up at me quickly and then he groans. Throws his wet haired head back, and those green eyes look up at the awning like he’s berating whatever trickster god pulls his strings of fate. Or, so I assume.

He leans his weight on a single hand and stretches out the other in my direction.

For a second, I think he’s extended it so we can shake hands, before I realise that he just wants a hand up. I flush and hasten – carefully – over. A quick pull from my hand and he does the rest of the work, but he has to grab at my shoulders when he’s upright, a little wobbly.

He looks at me and grimaces. “I’m a danger to myself and others.” His hands release my shoulders, but only, it seems, to brush off bits of snow and dirt off of my coat.

I huff, my breath making a cloud of vapour in the space between us. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on that. Do you need me to go and get someone for you, or can you make your merry way to your reserved bed at Mungos?”

He laughs just a little. “It’s always a pleasure, Draco, honestly.” He’s joking, so I reserve the right to kick him until later. Maybe when he’s a bit less pathetic from the slip. “Are you okay?”

I scowl, and don’t answer his question. “It’s bloody 6pm on a Wednesday. In the middle of winter. After a snow storm. Who’s honestly buying wands this time of year?”

He smiles, winks slightly. “Gotta be made, don’t they?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I get it. You’re chained to your desk. A snowstorm fit for the arctic circle could blaze through here and you couldn’t be moved.”

He laughs. Harry laughs the same way he’s always laughed, and I blush just a little bit, as I’ve always done. I feel a shiver start to come upon me, but I keep it away by share force of will as he continues. “The new year is good for the thestral tail hair.” A dirty glove subconsciously comes up to rub at his wet hair, and he grimaces when he feels it. “Decay, new life, you know. The Death-horses and Winter going hand in hand.”

I smirk as he tentatively tries to rub his dirty glove off against a cleaner part of his cloak. “Cruel of them. Not taking the time to consider your plight.”

“Well,” he challenges, “I doubt it’s a major concern. It’s actually not every day that I slip and fall on the pavement. I survive my walks, mostly.”

“Well,” I answer, “I never slip or fall.” I raise a haughty eyebrow at him, and I can see the humour dust his eyes a little bit more. “Don’t go blaming me for this.”

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Why are we still so wet.” He flicks his hand and a wave of annoyingly familiar magic crests itself over my figure until the dirt and the moisture are driven right away. I flick a warming charm over him in thanks.

He seems to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings now that he’s dry and warm. “You just come from Finch-Fletchley’s? You mind reminding him that if the other shops are closed down for the holidays that it’s his job to vanish the snow after a blanketing?”

I avert my eyes, drawn to the bright lights of the bakery. I scowl. “You can tell him yourself, thank you very much.” I take a deep breath, and straighten my back. Keeping some decorum, hopefully. “We’ve broken up.”

Potter’s eyebrows are up when I glance quickly back to his face. He looks at me, and his face is very controlled. He looks at the bakery. “When?”

I swallow. “Week before Christmas, if you can believe.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from whistling sympathetically. Then he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug, casually. “No matter.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious” I say, pointlessly.

He crosses his arms and looks hard at me. “Oh yeah? What are you doing here, then? Surely not too many muggleborns turning 11 around this time of year.”

Not to back down, and turn to face him properly and cross my own arms. “You know full well that’s not all I do, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like my point doesn’t still stand. What? You doing a lot of muggleborn house calls the week after new year’s?”

“Not every muggleborn celebrates Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sure, technically. In reality, though?”

I turn away, and don’t answer his questions. He snorts, but then steps a little closer. We’re facing the bakery, because of course we are. O’ Holy Night plays above us. I wonder who chooses these songs.

I hear him take a deep breath in and out. “I really am sorry.”

I sigh, too. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Draco.”

Two weeks and 5 days. If we’re counting. I don’t say this though.

He bumps my shoulder. “Not to pick at the wound, but what areyou really doing here.”

I consider lying to him again, but we’re not really in the business of doing that. It’d just be a bore. And he’s always been… good about things like this. “Christmas.” I swallow. “It gets lonely, you know.”

He hums.

I kick out at the ground with my foot and it slides a little bit too far, and I end up having to take a step forward to balance myself again – Potter grabs at my arm.

He laughs, a little anxiously. “Never slip and fall, huh?”

I ignore that, my face flushed and hot. “We had a tradition. Wednesday pastries at the bakery. I would assume it’s common decency to let someone know in advance if you’re going to break up with them. So that one can plan for these moments, right?” I close my eyes against the lights of Justin’s bakery, feeling unwelcome. “I apologise. I’m morose. It’s not exactly the post-holiday cheer I’m sure you want on a nice evening.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t call this a nice evening.” My warming charm wears off, and he flicks his wrist for another one to settle over us. He lets go of my upper arm, and puts a hand on my shoulder – drags me around a bit to face him. “Fuck him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not a bad guy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes right back, and then looks quite serious. “Be a little indulgent with yourself sometimes, Draco.”

I look back at him. He’s only just shorter than me, and I’ve always cherished that fact, but now he almost seems to be towering over me, even with a bit of a slouch to his stand. His messy hair and his shadowed cheeks and under-eyes the likes of which I only really see during the summer break when I’m chaperoning muggle families and their muggleborn children to get their first wands before September. Working too hard. Chained to his desk.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I blurt out.

His eyes widen. So do mine. The heat in my face expands to a blaze, and I groan as I drop it into my cold gloves. “Merlin, I’m sorry. You just said the indulgent thing, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He grabs at my wrists lightly and tugs a bit, but I don’t budge. “Draco.”

A clang mutely sounds from just up the street, the usual echo of the door in the cobbled street trapped by the snow. “Draco?” I hear, and look up. Startle, because that’s definitely Justin at the door, surrounded in the glow of the lighting. I take a step back almost without thought, and Harry’s grip on my wrist unfortunately makes me lose my balance. I go right down, and he follows. Right on top of me.

I groan loudly, my head and back and arse all once again wet and cold. Harry groans too, and his warm weight gets off me very quickly, tugging me up by my hands, and then a hand tight on my waist to right me. I don’t step out of his grip immediately, too overcome with the situation. Ready to take another crack at the cobbles and see if this time I brain myself.

“Hell, Draco,” Harry mutters, and then grabs his wand to get the wet and the dirt off the both of us again. Another of his beautiful warming charms settles over my body. “We’re even now, okay? No more falls, for god’s sake.”

Justin has wandered a bit closer by the time I look away from Harry’s face, a little consternated. “Draco? Are you okay? Merlin, what are you doing standing out here?”

I don’t respond. Harry coughs. “That’ll be me. I basically tripped him earlier, and we got talking.”

Justin’s eyes widen just a little, and he looks at Draco in concern. “In this weather? It’s freezing! I’ll grab you mug of spice cider, alright?”

“No,” I say, finally finding my bloody voice again. “No, I’m fine. And anyway.” I shoot a glance at Harry. “We’re tied one-for-one.” Harry smirks.

Justin continues when I look back to him. “Dray, come on. A cup of cider, a bite to eat.”

I shake my head, wanting this day to be done with already. “I’ve got plans.”

Justin eyes get just a little softer. “Come on, please?”

“He does. Have plans.” Potter says, and my neck twinges with how fast I turn to look at him. “We’re going to dinner.”

Justin goggles, just a little, looks between Harry and me. There’s a certain part of me – a different part to the one that’s processing whether or not Harry means what he said about dinner – that’s a little vindictively pleased about Justin’s reaction. “Oh!” Justin says. “Okay, no… No worries!” He meets my eyes, and I flush. “It was good to see you. Please, do come around. The staff miss you, you know.”

I smile politely. “Thanks, Justin.” I stand a little taller, and nod to him. “Take care.”

“You too.” And he grins kindly, lifting a hand to Harry and me, before hastening back into the warm sanctuary of his bakery. The door does its little muted clang again as it closes. My mouth – still sitting in a polite smile – relaxes, leaving a little pain in my cheeks.

Harry hums. “Do you ever think that we’re all a bit toomature now?”

Surprisingly, I laugh loudly at that. I’m nodding even before I get the words out. “Yes. I’d almost wish to be fifteen again and have a real proper tantrum about this.” I sigh, laugh a little again. “But, you know. Fifteen-year-old me? Good riddance.”

“I don’t know…” Harry trails off, “there were some redeeming qualities. He was certainly a creative sort.”

I goggle at him, and immediately stop when I realise that I’m imitating Justin to some extent. “Stop having me on.”

Harry… laughs. “Yeah, I’m having you on. You were a right bastard.”

I shake my head, and turn away from the lights of the bakery, and start walking. He’ll surely catch up.

“I was serious.” Harry says, and I turn my head a little to let him know I’m listening as I walk. “About dinner.”

“I assumed so,” even though that’s a bit of a lie.

“And,” Harry catches up. “I mean ‘dinner’ as in. A date.”

I’m not proud of this, but I slip. Just a little. “Fuck,” I say as I try to catch myself. Thank goodness that Potter’s a bit more onto it, though. He just grabs my arm, and an arm around my back. Straightens me up.

“Bloody hell, I should have talked to him about the snow vanishing,” Harry’s saying as I brush off my cloak to hide my flush. “It’s all the Diagon Business Association talks about during winter, I don’t know what he’s on-”

“Harry.”

He stops and looks at me. Christmas music is still playing, and its still grating, but goodness the lights work well on his complexion. And his eyes.

I smile, just a little. “We’ve got dinner plans, I thought? We could talk about this there, surely?”

He laughs.

#drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfic #this came out of nowhere and was supposed to be something much different before it became this #fluff #pure and simple #and god now all i want is to have 30k of Harry as wandmaker and Draco as the muggleborn liason #brining the little muggleborn kids and their families through Diagon before they go off to Hogwarts #and Harry and Draco learning to like each other through that #and falling kind of just #slowly for each other because of it #and Draco deserves a little date #as a treat

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 1 (Elriel)

Synopsis: Elain’s stuck in a dead end relationship, bored beyond belief with her life. When she befriends her brand new neighbor, it’s like taking a breath of fresh air. But with each day of friendship, she grows more and more drawn to him and the past he’s desperate to escape. His smile is all she thinks about, invading her head at the most inconvenient moments. He’s made his intentions with her perfectly clear, but she’s determined to resist his charms. She won’t allow him to turn her calm, quiet life upside down. Right?

I’M SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG. Moving did NOT go smoothly, and my professors are taking online classes a little ~seriously~ even though they haven’t started yet lol. 

Part 2 should be out by Wednesday, and it’s in Azriel’s POV :))))) This one’s a slow burn ladies and gentlemen, so get ready for some pent up desire 

______________________________________________________________

Elain rolled over in bed, somehow too hot and cold at the same time. Gods, she was miserable. Her boyfriend was next to her, snoring loudly, and the sound did nothing to help her worsening mood. 

She was so exhausted-- when you owned a flower shop, wedding season was always hectic--but sleep had been refusing to find her for the past hour. 

It didn’t help that she had a moose-sounding man in the room. 

Reminding herself that she loved him and definitely didn’t want to strangle him in his loud ass sleep, she rolled over and pulled a pillow on her head. 

Somehow, after two years of dating, she hadn’t gotten used to how loudly Lucien snored. 

Thank the gods we don’t live together, she thought, then admonished herself for it. 

They would eventually. 

She just had to get used to it. 

The pillow over her head became suffocating, only adding to the over-heating problem, so she threw the covers off, grabbed a robe, and walked out. After going up a few flights of stairs, she found herself on the roof. 

It was the place she always went when she was stressed or sad or just needed to see the night sky. She’d even started a garden a few months ago, so she started to head over to check on it. 

But then she saw who was sitting on the bench in front of her rose bushes and paused. 

Paused and stared, because the man sitting in front of her wearing dark clothes and a smirk was both classically beautiful and dangerous. 

He was the kind of man most men would do anything not to fight and women would do anything to bed. 

Smoke curled around him, and the shadows somehow seemed to cling to his tall frame. The stranger dwarfed the small bench, large frame taking up enough space for two. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was well over six feet. And built like a Greek god, if the way his black, long sleeve t-shirt clung to his chest was any indication.  

He was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, and that was without taking in the strong, clean shaven jaw, hazel eyes, and hair the color of spilled ink. 

And oh fuck, he was studying her, too. A shiver ran over her as she realized she was covered in just her robe. 

Her body begged her to both run far away and draw closer, and for some reason, she listened to the urge to do the latter. 

“Who are you?” she asked as she walked through the maze of flowers. 

“Who are you?” he shot back, not answering her question. Her body reacted to his voice alone, goosebumps raising at the cold but somehow soothing tone. 

A breeze caused her hair to swirl around her as she replied, “I’m Elain. What are you doing here?”

He jerked his chin at the cigarette dangling from his fingertips, but that wasn’t exactly what she’d been asking. “No, I mean what are you doing here?”

“I live here, Elain.”

She realized she shouldn’t have told him her name, because now he could say it in that sexy, very manly voice of his and it would do strange things to her sanity. 

He said her name like a lover would, soft and sensual, but also coldly amused. He sounded like he knew her, like he’d known her for years. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes are laughing at her now, but he didn’t sound mean. 

"Which apartment?”

“4B.”

Elain’s eyebrows pinched together at that news. She lived in 4A and hadn’t even noticed she’d gotten a new neighbor. Then again, she’d been at work all day. “Oh. I guess we’re neighbors then.”

A small smile graced his full lips, and she studied it before forcing her eyes back to his. “Lucky me.”

Oh, gods. Was he... flirting with her? 

She didn’t even know. It had been so long since someone had that she’d forgotten what it sounded like. 

So she rolled her eyes good naturedly, leaning against the brick railing encasing the roof. 

“Sneaking out for a smoke?” His voice was like gravel and smoke, and his hazel eyes raked over her body in a way that made her shiver. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded, then extended the cigarette to her in question. She smiled but shook her head and said, “I don’t smoke.”

“A good girl, then.” He didn’t sound at all bothered by that statement. And once again, his hazel eyes skirted down her body. “Do you want to sit down?”

There was almost no room on the bench, but it beat standing on the edge of the roof on such a breezy night, so she walked over and sat as far away from him as possible. 

It was still way too close. 

Her arm was pressed against hers, allowing her to feel the dense muscle covering it. She doubted she could wrap both hands around it completely, but she shut down the urge to try as she crossed her legs casually.

The warmth from his body seeped into her, goosebumps raising where they touched. “You’re warm,” she commented stupidly. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, hazel eyes scanning her face, then dropping slightly. 

No small amount of horror grew when she realized what he’d glanced at. She crossed her arms over her chest, then scowled when he grinned. 

Her eyebrows flew up, though, when a heavy arm landed across her shoulders and tucked her into a warm, firm side. 

Oh, gods above every place they connected was tingling. Heat rushed into her--both between her legs and from his side.

She needed a heat CT. 

“Is this your garden?” he asked, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her. 

She nodded, then realized her head was pressed against his chest. Elain pulled away slightly, then asked, “Will you tell me your name?”

His hazel eyes were dark, like molten caramel. She felt lost in him. “What will you give me in return?”

Every inch of her body went taut and loose at the same time. Her thigh was suddenly warm, and she looked down to see his hand resting on her skin. The back of his hand was covered in scars and tattoos and his palm was covered in callouses, but it was nothing but gentle and warm on her thigh. 

Her maybe-neighbor was perfectly still, his face cool and composed while he waited for her to react. But his eyes told her exactly what would happen if she leaned into him just a tiny amount. 

And gods, she wanted to. 

Something was holding her back though. A small voice was screaming at her, and a disgusting amount of guilt crept up her shoulders. Almost jumping out of her skin, she remembered whose existence she’d forgotten completely. 

Lucien.

Her boyfriend. 

The man she’d been attempting to sleep next to not an hour ago.

She pulled away, instantly missing his warmth. “I have a boyfriend,” she said unceremoniously and with about as much enthusiasm as someone declaring grandma was dead. 

His eyes went a little darker, even as the corner of his lips twitched. “Hm.”

“I should go.” That was beyond true. 

Lucien was trusting, and their relationship was relaxed, but practically snuggling with another man wasn’t right. Even if it was all she wanted to do at the moment. 

“Okay.”

“I hope we can be friends in the future,” she said, trying to maintain polite normalcy. “But only if you tell me your name.”

Once again, those amber eyes slid over her, and she was very, very grateful she’d crossed her arms. “We’re never going to be friends, Elain.”

The way he said it didn’t feel like a rejection; it felt like a challenge. Her body thrummed, even as she shook her head slightly and started back down the stairs. 

The picture of his face followed her all the way into her apartment, sticking in her head until she fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. 

~

The next morning, she woke up and had breakfast with Lucien, who hardly glanced up from his eggs as he asked, “Where’d you go last night? I heard you get up.”

Her heart started to race even though she’d done nothing wrong. Technically. Calming her voice, she said, “I went to the roof to check on the garden. Couldn’t sleep.”

Lucien just shrugged, knowing this was pretty typical for her. 

She knew she should tell him she’d met their new neighbor, but for some reason, her mouth stayed shut. Probably because she didn’t even know his name. 

It definitely wasn’t because she’d almost kissed him. 

“I have to go; I have an early meeting.” He worked at a corporate finance place downtown, so this wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. He got up from the table, navy suit slightly wrinkled, and kissed her brow. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll come back Friday, okay?”

This also wasn’t news. He stayed at her place a few nights a week, most of the time Sunday and Friday. She didn’t go to his that often because she didn’t have a car and liked to walk to work. 

Elain nodded and smiled, then went to get ready once he’d left. 

Were twenty-four year-olds supposed to feel like this? Like they were stuck on a conveyor belt, destined to do the same thing for the rest of her life?

It sometimes felt like she’d gone to sleep and woken up in the life of a fifty-year old housewife. 

Whenever he stayed over, he liked coming home to a clean house and meal, so she cooked for him, pretending to love it, when in reality, she’d be just as happy eating takeout on the sofa. 

She greeted him with a smile, and they talked and watched TV together, then went to bed at the same time every night. 

And gods, it was starting to get boring. 

Even the sex was starting to follow a routine. It wasn’t written down, but Elain had noticed they slept together at the beginning of the month, then not at all for a few weeks. 

She missed the beginning of the relationship, when they were so in love and crazy about each other they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.  

She didn’t expect fireworks after being together for so long, but... it had only been two years. And despite never mentioning it, Lucien was bound to propose at some point. 

Could she do this for the rest of her life? Go to work, come home, cook, go to bed? Did she love him enough for fifty years of the same routine?

That thought shocked her. Of course she did. 

He was perfect for her. He didn’t keep secrets, had a good job, and treated her with kindness and respect. So what if the fizzle had worn off? 

So what if she got more turned on sitting on a cold bench next to a complete stranger than after actual foreplay with her boyfriend?

It meant nothing. 

At least, that’s what she told herself as she put on a light blue dress and sandals and fixed her hair. 

Once she was ready, she walked outside and started down the street to her store. It was only a five minute walk, one of her favorite things about her apartment’s location. 

“Elain,” came a low voice from right next to her. 

Surprised, she turned to see her brand new neighbor walking next to her. Just like last night, he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt. But with the light she could make out his features better, and it did nothing to sway her of how attractive she found him. 

“Good morning.”

He smiled, and she found herself mimicking the expression. 

I mean, when someone who looked like a villainous Prince Charming smiled at you, you smiled back. 

“Better now,” he told her in a low tone, still smirking. 

“You’re a horrible flirt,” she laughed, brushing off how the comment made her skin tingle. 

“Horrible?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting one as they walked. “I’ll have to step up my game then. You look beautiful today.”

“I amend my statement. You’re a mediocre flirt.”

He blew a cloud of smoke around him and rolled his eyes, and she grinned agian. She did that a lot around him, she realized. It was easy to. 

There was just something alluring about him. He was dark and cold and beyond mysterious, but also sensual in a way she’d never seen before. It both threw her off guard and made her want to be reckless for once in her life. 

“Where are you going?”

“Work. I own the flower shop down on third street,” she told him proudly. The shop was her life’s work, and it made her insanely happy to tell people about it. 

“The Archeron?” he asked, and her brows shot up in surprise. “I work across the street. Start today, actually.”

“Oh, at the tattoo place?” 

The idea of getting a needle stabbed into her skin over and over again made her nauseous. 

Azriel noticed her expression. “You ever come in, I’ll give you a discount.”

“I’ll absolutely never take you up on the offer, but thank you. If you ever want a lovely bouquet, feel free to come on in.”

His hazel eyes met hers. “And what if I just want to see you? Do I still have to buy flowers?” There was a blush on her cheeks, and his eyes darkened when he saw it. “I like making you blush.”

Gods above, the man wasn’t giving up. 

She was surprised to find she didn’t want him to. 

She deflected anyway. “Fine. You’re an average flirt.” 

“Oh, baby girl, you have no idea.” They were somehow already in front of her shop, and he looked through the window and grimaced. “On second thought, if I want to see you, I’ll just knock on your door. Lot of flowers in there.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she reminded him, blocking out the picture of Azriel coming over to her apartment. “If I want to see you, who should I ask for?”

Humor flickered across his hard features, but he still shot down the request. 

“If you need me, I’ll be across the street encouraging people to make horrible decisions.”

Laughing, she unlocked the store and watched him walk away. Somehow, even though it was broad daylight, he was a spot of darkness on the street. 

She didn’t even know his name, but she was tempted to follow him, just to see his smile again. If seeing him smile made her feel that happy, how would it be to hear his laugh? 

More than anything, she wanted to find out.

And Elain knew right there that he’d been completely right: they would never be friends. 

______________________________________________________________

Part 2

@cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @astreia-oniria @wineywitch202 @captainthefangirlofhp @perseusannabeth @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @poisonous00

#azriel #azriel x elain #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain #elain archeron #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

[bisexual-inuyasha]

The Hook

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

Prompt: “I shouldn’t be here.” “Well you are. Don’t even think about leaving.”

The next morning, Ling woke up alone. Ed had reminded him Al expected him back. And besides, Ling was all talk. He could kiss Edward Elric but anything more would have to wait until he dealt with his suitor situation. It wasn’t cheating, he knew. But that didn’t mean it was right.

Was he a suitor when he never bothered to ask? Ling’s eyes were itchy with lack of sleep. His cheek tingled from where he’d slept on it. God, mornings sucked. Especially early mornings after a late night.

Even still… he smiled. Last night had not been a total waste. He wrapped his fingers around something warm and smooth, something that had rested against his curled stomach through the night.

“Young Lord, I’ve brought you a snack before your meeting. You barely ate yesterday, so I brought extra.” Lan Fan’s voice carried through the doorway, especially loud. “Do you need anything to drink?”

“He’s gone, Lan Fan.” Ling sighed, sitting up. He was decidedly less dressed than when he’d gone to his rooms. By the time Ed left he was too tired to shrug into his sleep clothes. He’d been missing a shirt and his pants had already been half off. He’d just stripped into his undies and fallen asleep under a mountain of blankets.

“What’s that?” Lan Fan sat across from him, her legs crossed and posture careful. “A gift?”

“You could say that.”

It was only a small cat figure, crudely carved from a soft wood Ling had never gotten around to figuring out on his own.

“It’s. Um, cute?”

It wasn’t. It looked awful. Edward wasn’t artistically inclined in that way. Ling couldn’t care less. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of gifts, you’ve got another. It arrived this morning.” Lan Fan took a bite of Ling’s food. “You should eat.”

“What was the gift?” Ling scooped up a mouthful of rice. “Who was it from?”

“Not Edward Elric.” Lan Fan spoke around her food. “The other man you’re supposed to be involved with.”

Ling’s throat felt dry. He coughed. “We’ve certainly not been meant to be involved yet, Lan Fan. That won’t happen for another month. You know there’s quite a long engagement process in Xing.”

“Yes, Sire. I’m aware.” She closed her eyes. He watched as she considered for a moment. “When you are ready for my opinion I will be sure to give it.”

Irritation flared through Ling but he let it pass. Lan Fan was always free to give her opinion. The only thing putting him off was that he knew what her opinion was. And that she was right. He took a deep breath and pushed a smile onto his face. “I await the day.”

Today was not like the last two. He had so much to do. It was not like his engagement meant the kingdom stopped running. And his hands-on approach to ruling meant he couldn’t shove many duties onto his advisors and court. He was entangled in all of the decisions, from clan relations to trade negotiations. He had all the details and all the paperwork.

So he dragged himself up, splashing cool water on his face. Lan Fan raised an eyebrow at his undress.

“It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.”

“No, that’s true. I used to kick your ass when you’d wake up half naked after getting mugged in the Hua clans.”

“I wish you wouldn’t remind me of starving days.” Ling put on a pouty face. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to respect me now, Lan Fan? I’m working hard as emperor.”

“I have the utmost respect for you, Sire.” She smiled at him, and it was genuine. She wasn’t too angry at him, then. “I just want you to be careful. You are walking in a thin place. The thin places are difficult to keep you safe in.”

“You don’t have to protect me from everything, Lan Fan.” He gathered up his robes. With a celebration came the expectation of finery. “Though if you want to help me into this ridiculous outfit, I’d appreciate it.”

She did, and by the time his first round of consultation was to start, he was fully dressed. His hair was pulled back today, in the proper style. He arranged his expression into an indifferent coolness.

“Don’t forget, Sire. You’ve got the matter of the gift to deal with.”

His stomach clenched. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget it.”

When she wasn’t looking, Ling snuck the little cat into his pocket.

The mysterious suitor’s gift was on his mind through the whole morning. As his constituents asked about the borders of their fields and the negotiation, he ran his thumb over the figurine in his pocket and tried not to look towards the table where the gift waited for him.

A maze of questions and conflicts and negotiations later, he was being led to the gift. A no stuck in his throat. Refusal built like a physical pressure in his chest. The urge to leave was so strong his hands shook with it.

His advisors were clueless. And of all the days, Lan Fan was busy with other affairs. She wasn’t even in the palace. For the first time since he was inaugurated, a clammy sweat broke over his forehead.

He stood at the box. He didn’t care what was in it. It wouldn’t change his mind, whatever it was.

But accepting the gift was a furthering. For every step into Xingese tradition he took, the expectation he would follow through grew. Maybe this is why he just stood, staring at the box, for several minutes.

The longer he took, the heavier the silence around him grew.

Low rumbling started in the back of the crowd. A few people grumbled and a couple shouted as someone aggressively, and rudely, shoved their way through.

Ed pushed his way near the front, a notebook in his hand, his metal fingers clasped around a pen. Ling heard him shout over the thin wall of people ahead of him. “Well, get on with it. How else are any of us supposed to know what’s in it?”

Ling laughed. He pulled the fabric wrapping from the box. It was a nice enough fabric. From far away, the cloth had just looked like a boring eggwhite, but up close he could see damasked swirls twisting around the corners. The box was equally almost boring--cream, slightly darker, with a line of gold around the opening. His expectations were low.

And good thing.

The gift was a simple, expensive shaving set. Ling felt like this was something Fu would have enjoyed. However, he, with his lack of facial hair and attachment to his other bodily hair, had no use for it. He quirked a brow, put the nice, ivory handled blade back into the oversized box beside the crystal container of what he could only assume was cologne. Maybe?

A single boom of laughter sounded from the general vicinity of Ed, but no one else seemed to think anything of the gift. And then, to his horror, one of his advisors cleared their throat.

“For when he is here, Sire. To shave your husband.”

Ling carefully closed the box. He was trying, and failing, to look nonchalant.

“Sire, should we respond with a gift in kind?”

Ling ground his teeth. “I will be in my room, crafting a response for my… suitor.”

He’d chosen the word specifically for its connotation of uncertainty. A suitor has not been accepted yet. The advisors all glared, and a few of the crowd closest to him gasped. He could feel the burning in his cheeks. Anger, embarrassment, and maybe a smidge of disappointment flooded his thoughts. He needed to be out of here.

Murmuring grew behind him, growing to a small roar as the heavy doors to the court closed behind him.

It was hard to stomp through all his layers but he did his best.

The kitchens were busy when he arrived. Lan Fan was elbow deep in a bowl of dumpling filling. She took one look at his face and picked up the bowl to move towards him.

“We should go, Sire,” she finished kneading the ingredients together and dumped the bowl into the arms of another kitchenhand. “Your face may frighten the staff.”

He shuttered his expression, pushing the emotions and thoughts deep inside until he could be somewhere private. It was not easy, and from Lan Fan’s face he could tell he was not fully successful. He tried, though, and that was the best he could do.

“It was bad?” Lan Fan spoke under her breath while she washed her hands.

He couldn’t speak on it. It was insulting, actually. The kind of gift given to a stranger. But worse so, because it was a gift truly meant for the gifter--a gift of expectation. A note that said one day, he expected Ling to serve him.

He did not become Emperor to serve over-confident old men.

The thought made him bristle. His face contorted into a sneer, despite his best efforts to keep a neutral expression. He turned away, so that only Lan Fan could see him. “It is best discussed somewhere else.”

She didn’t respond, only dried her hands and hurried from the room. Ling followed, though he could only go so fast without tripping over the length of his robes. The hindrance was especially frustrating, and even more so because he wanted to move. To push himself, quicken his steps and his body until he couldn’t hardly breathe.

He already didn’t want to do this.

He had a growing list of reasons to refuse.

Except.

Except there was a reason he accepted in the first place.

It was enough to fuel the fire inside him higher, until he was nearly bursting at the seams in his shuffling pace.

Finally, they were in an empty room. A quick glance around told him it was an empty washroom, and if not for Lan Fan’s very blatant disinterest in men, they may have been in trouble. As it was, she only slammed the door closed (a cathartic sound, though it did nothing for his thrumming body.) When she turned towards him, there was only concern. He hadn’t realized he’d expected anything less. But now, some tightness around his lungs loosened.

He’d been expecting a reprimand.

“What was the gift?” She started pulling his robes off of him.

Briefly, he wondered if this was unusual. The thought left his mind as soon as it crossed. He shifted his shoulders to help her remove the uppermost layer. “It was a shaving set.”

“Hm?” She moved to his front, untying a sash. “But you don’t have any facial hair.”

“It wasn’t for me to use myself.” Ling’s hands shook again. “Hua explained. It was for me to use, on him.”

Lan Fan’s fingers fumbled on the sash. “That doesn’t make sense, Sire.”

“It was meant as exactly what it was.” Ling stepped back and finished undoing the sash to his underrobe himself. “A notification of expectation. A signal that he wants me to be a doting husband.”

“I can see how in some twisted way that makes sense.” Lan Fan frowned. “Though he must be aware it doesn’t give a good impression.”

“He doesn’t think he has to care. He offered his hand in marriage without knowing me, Lan Fan. He wasn’t taking me into account at all. He wants Xing.”

“No.” She sat on an empty countertop. Her expression bothered him. “Not just Xing. He wants you, too. Sire.”

His skin felt raw. Only a few days ago, that may have been a relief. Now it was an irritation digging its way into his blood. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been keeping tabs on you through the advisors. He has asked specifically after your health and happiness. The reports have been mixed, but he’s asked more than once.”

For a moment, Ling went cold. “Have any of them mentioned--”

“No. No mention of him. But the Amestrian does seem interested in you, specifically, Sire.” She frowned. “Though, I can say from your reaction to the gift that it’s a hopeless cause on his part.”

“What do I do?” He sat on the floor. At least a dozen tailors would be scandalized at his treatment of his clothing, but what did he care? Those same tailors complained every time he wore an outfit a second time.

“I cannot answer you, Ling. I’m sorry.” She smiled. “You should go to breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” He was too angry to feel hungry.

“Ed will be there. Surely, he will calm you down.” Lan Fan smiled. “Besides, you should at least try.”

Ling closed his eyes. “I’m not putting the robes back on.”

“You’ll scandalize us all, Sire.” But she was still smiling when she said it. “Please, at least keep your head around the boy.”

Ling blushed. He left, tired and still irritated.

He ignored the stares of the others. Admittedly, his under robe and darkest, loosest pants were not the usual outfit for an emperor. It would take until tomorrow for the rumors to reach outside the kingdom. And when they did, he’d solidify them with his announcement of withdrawal from the marriage.

What had Ed called it?

A soft rebellion.

He sat, heavily, in his seat at the top of the table. Ed and Al sat near him, like they had the night before. Soon, this would become noticeable. Soon, he’d have to deal with all of the fallout from there. Right now though…

“I like your new look.” Ed tapped his fingers on his glass, taking a deep drink. He stared Ling down, questioning. “It’s certainly to stir up some talk around here. Especially with how you stormed out earlier.”

“Surprised you noticed over all your laughter.” Ling stretched in his seat. The dining hall was chilly as the flame of his anger started to wane. “Al, you wouldn’t believe how loud your asshole of a brother laughed at me in my own court.”

“I’m sure he didn’t laugh half as loud as he snored.” Al contemplated, rubbing their chin. “Though I guess he didn’t do much snoring in your room last night.”

Ed and Ling both squawked a protest but Al just snorted.

“I gotta say, though. Your kitchen knows how to make a roast quail that just melts.” Al took a bite, a nibble really, and savored it.

“Al’s a bit of a foodie. In fact, I don’t think they’ve ever enjoyed a place we’ve visited as much. They go on and on about the food here in the room. Do you know how much I had to hear about the sugared sweet potatoes? That was a half hour rant at least.”

“They were good! And one of the cooks said she’d share her recipe with me.” Al’s eyes narrowed, a slow and innocent smile spreading across their face. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had to hear--”

“Ha! An-any way.” Ed waved his arm, the shine glinting with the bright lights of the room.

Ling caught the metal fingers in his, and Ed’s face lit up like a cherry sparkler. “Did you polish this?”

“Uh…” Ed’s mouth fell open as Ling openly observed the newly cleaned screws and gleaming plates. “Well, yeah. I mean, if I’m going to be modelling for an emperor, I figured it best be up to emperor’s standards.”

“Silly Edward.” Ling pulled the hand towards his face, checking the wear and tarnish. The scuff was still noticeable at the thumb, bits of unreachable fade peeking out from beneath overlapping metal. “I like your hands either way.”

Al coughed. “People are going to notice if you guys keep all that up.”

Ling dropped Ed’s hand and turned to his food. “So you say the quail is good?”

His appetite did return. He ate steadily through baked quail, quail egg dotted rice, taro starch candies, fried squash blossoms, sweet tomato filled dumplings. Occasionally Al would ask about a dish and he’d explain whatever he knew--not usually very much--and they’d write down a few notes to ask about later. And occasionally, he’d glance over to see Ed, a wide grin on his face, eyes alight, cheeks still tinged pink, and his heart would stutter.

This was the feeling he’d dreamed of as a kid. This excitement buzzing through him whenever he looked at Ed. The easy comradery between himself and the two brothers.

Ling leaned over, keeping his voice quiet and his body language inconspicuous. Al didn’t even look up.

“Let’s meet up where we met the first time, tonight.”

Ed nodded, and they continued through their meal until Ling had to excuse himself.

If Ed’s face turned a deeper shade of red, Al didn’t mention it.

As much as Ling was enjoying his scandalous outfit, he couldn’t justify doing any more official work in it. He changed into a simpler, less heavy version of the outfit he wore that morning. He hadn’t seen Lan Fan at breakfast. He assumed she had a good reason for wherever she was. Still. He wanted to tell her he’d made up his mind.

He toured through the city, overseeing repair projects and brokering deals between bickering businesses. The people weren’t quite sure what to do with him. And he was still learning exactly how to be what they expected of him. His advisors had tried to shepherd him into similes of past emperors. He chafed under their pressures as they tried to fill a shell they’d formed for him. The worst times were when they could cite legitimate reasons for their herding.

For example, he was exposed and in danger while out in the towns. So therefore, they must be able to have him well guarded. This very logical set of observations was followed with therefore every step he made had to be very meticulously timed and prescreened. Theoretically, he would spend only a small allotted time at each job, and no more.

One thing was always true, no matter how meticulously planned his outings. Each job multiplied. If he showed up to discuss the demarcation of a farming plot, the result would mean that already grown crops would have to be divided. Inevitably, a dispute would have to be settled. Then, as is only polite when you’ve just told at least one person they’ve less crops than they thought they did, he’d sit for a tea.

Today he didn’t get to lunch. Or back for another round of celebrations. And this was the way it always went, for any of his days he spent out with the people.

It was his favorite part of the job.

By the time he returned to the palace he was exhausted deep in his very bones. The robes, lighter he’d thought than the earlier ones, weighed him down. And still, he had dinner to go through. And the aftermath of this morning to handle. He wanted to sleep.

Then, he remembered.

He had a meeting. After dinner.

His steps still dragged, but a little less.

He made his way to his room and collapsed in his bed.

Only to jump up a moment later, shouting. “What the hell?”

A body wiggled under his covers. Fighting his way from a mountain of plush blankets, Ed’s head popped up. “Oh, you’re back. You were supposed to be back hours ago.”

A soft smile lit his face despite the heaviness of his limbs. “I can’t half ass a job with the people. They’d never forget and the bitching wouldn’t end for years. Probably until I died.”

“Even during your engagement?”

Ling scoffed. “Don’t play with me. You and I both know that’s a sham.”

“You sure?” Ed hugged the covers to his chest. Ling thought it was awfully cheeky that the Amestrian could sleep in his bed, wake up, and immediately start asking prying questions. Maybe he should have been bothered. Instead he was mildly impressed.

“Am I sure that the supposed suitor of mine who I’ve never met, who has no reason to have any interest in a decades younger new emperor in a country with an assassin problem, is nothing more than a sham of political leverage?” Ling slid his top off. He’d put it back on before dinner. But now, he needed to be lighter.

“Leverage? And what does that mean, for you?”

This conversation was a heavy one. Heavier than the exhaustion in his bones. Heavier than the robe he’d allowed to slide onto the floor. Heavier still than the thoughts that had been running through his head all day. “Do you know how I became Emperor?”

Ed frowned. “You fought your way through the other heirs, made alliances, made deals. That’s how every Xingese emperor ascends, right?”

“No. I’d have never been able to fight my way through 43 heirs.” Ling rubbed his eyes. “Promises. I made promises to those I didn’t need to fight my way through. Promises that their clan wouldn’t starve. Promises that I wouldn’t mercilessly kill those clans whose heirs I did have to fight through.”

“Sounds better.” Ed smiled. Ling didn’t.

“If I promised you, right now, that I would fix Amestris for you. That utilizing my marriage to your ruler, I would root out and destroy the corruption that causes Amestris to spread into neighboring countries like a virus. How would you feel?”

Ed’s face shifted, first to anger then to thoughtfulness, before finally landing on doubt. “How could you, even if you did marry him? Amestrians aren’t trusting. They’ve been in war after war--”

“Exactly. And yet, with the resources of Xing, the possibility arises that I could. And this is the possibility I’m faced with. Right now, I’m new, and my rule is based on promises that are thin until I fulfill them. And some of them will only be fulfilled when I die and haven’t killed off the opposing clans. When people aren’t used to honesty, believing in good things will become impossible.” Ling sat on the bed, pushed aside the covers. Ed was still dressed in this morning's clothes. As any normal person would be, Ling decided. “Having a strong military force behind my decrees would go a long way to making people take me seriously.”

“Sounds cowardly to me.” Ed crossed his arms. Ling was going to have to reign this conversation in, or he’d get no sleep before dinner.

“Yes, cowardly,” Ling wrapped his arms around Ed’s waist. “I’m certainly cowardly enough, but maybe not enough for this.”

Ed fought back his grin, but to no avail. “Well, I can’t believe I was lured all the way to the palace under false pretenses.”

“You mean you don’t want to become my mistress?” Ling placed a kiss against Ed’s throat. He wouldn’t usually be so forward, but he had found Ed in his bed.

“Don’t think I’ve got the legs.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to anyway.” And then Ling pulled Ed down, curled around the small statured boy, and fell asleep.

This way, exactly, was how Lan Fan found them. Ed, lying awake in Ling’s arms, and Ling, deep asleep.

“He seems relaxed.” Lan Fan shut the door quietly behind her. “This is good. I wanted to talk to you privately anyway.”

Ed sputtered. “He’s right here, it’s not like we’re alone.”

Lan Fan gave him a deadpan stare. Then she opened her mouth, talking loudly. “Ling! Oh, Ling, it’s an emergency, Ed is cutting off my leg with his automail arm. He’s going to kill me Ling, watch out!”

Ed gaped, waving his free hand in her direction. “Stop it stop it stop it! What are you doing?”

But Ling didn’t wake up. He only snuggled deeper into Ed’s chest, wrapped his arms tighter around Ed’s waist, and hummed contentedly.

“So, as I was saying.” Lan Fan on Ling’s desk, glancing through some of his pictures. “You came here before he got back. Before lunch. You must be hungry.”

“Starving, actually.”

“Careful, he’s got to be starving too.” She rested her chin on her hand, staring him down. “He’s been known to nibble in his sleep.”

“You two are close, yeah?”

“What are your intentions with the Emperor of Xing?” She uncrossed her leg, hopping down from the work desk. “How can I trust you?”

“We had an interesting conversation about trust earlier.” Ed looked up to the ceiling. “I don’t have any intentions, to be honest. I barely know him.”

Lan Fan was at the edge of the bed now. He could feel her cool touch on his leg, a threat more than a comfort. “That’s not a very comforting answer, considering what’s on the line.”

“You couldn’t very well trust me if I lied to you, could you?” Ed swallowed. “I like him. I have since I saw him half-passed out in the garden. He was so far gone he couldn’t stand, and he thought the flowers were stars.”

“It’s hard to understand why you went out after him.” Lan Fan’s grip on his leg tightened. “I had assumed he wanted to be alone. Why didn’t you?”

“I--” Ed hesitated. How much did he want to tell her? “I’ve had that look on my face before. The one he had when he went outside. I hadn’t wanted to be alone, then.”

“So you just took a chance? Followed a hunch?” She sat on the bed. Ling shifted beside him. “And then stayed out there with him, until we found you.”

“He doesn’t remember that part, I think.” Ed spread his fingers over Ling’s arm. “He asked me to lay with him. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“You really don’t want anything from him, do you?”

“Just a chance.” Ed turned his face into Ling’s hair. “A chance to get to know him.”

“He wants you to.” Lan Fan sighed. “It’s time to get ready for dinner, now.”

“Right.” Ed ran his fingers through Ling’s hair, careful to keep the metal from tangling. “I should probably go. You probably wanted to talk to him, yeah?”

“I think it would be best.” Lan Fan didn’t move. “After all, it wouldn’t do for you two to arrive at dinner together, again.”

Ed moved carefully, lifting Ling’s arm and sliding out from beneath him. “He sleeps like a log.”

“Only after his visits to the people. It drains him but he loves it. He doesn’t do well sitting still.” She stood before Ed could reach the door, hand outstretched. “I think you’ll love him, before too long. I wish you good luck, Edward Elric. It is no easy task loving Ling Yao.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s worth it, every step.” Her hand hung in the air, waiting. “But he is emperor. And he doesn’t understand how important he is.”

“I make no promises.” He shook her hand and left, feeling somehow that he had made a vow, despite his claims.

Maybe he was already a lot deeper in than he thought.

They didn’t sit together at dinner this time. Ling was dressed in the robe he’d worn to town, only slightly rumpled, and smiling at everyone. A few people had attempted to ask him about his show over the gift this morning. He waved off their questions easily and changed the subject.

He’d even had one of the waiters sneak a baked taro bun over to Al, who had greedily devoured the whole thing. But he didn’t look at Ed.

Lan Fan stuck to his side, slyly moving him away from the less pleasant visitors. Ling pretended not to notice, but at one point he grew frustrated with a conversation, grabbed her around the waist, and did a circle around the room with her, ignoring any woh tried to talk to him. She laughed at him, and he ended up laughing with her. It was only a single round but it was enough to stir up the murmuring all over again.

The abrupt change had successfully signaled a change, however. The groups of people chattering needlessly started to break up into smaller groups, and music began playing. Ling watched as people stopped paying attention to him, concerning themselves with their own conversations.

He took a deep breath and sat down, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, that was becoming insufferable. I receive one shaving set and everyone has jokes and questions.”

“I think it’s more than that, Sire.” Lan Fan stretched. “Are you keeping your appointment?”

“A good emperor always does, right Lan Fan?” He grinned at her.

She squeezed his hand. “Just guard yourself, sire. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

He stuck his tongue out. “You’re always so serious. Never want to just have fun.”

“I have all sorts of fun when I’m with you, Sire.”

They both burst into giggles. He stood, brushing at the wrinkles on his top. “I’ve best get going. Ed disappeared quite a few minutes ago. He’ll be worried if I don’t show up soon.”

“Sire?” She tugged on his sleeve. “You do deserve to be happy. Don’t let any of us make you doubt that.”

A lump rose in his throat. “And is that your official opinion, Lan Fan?”

“That is always my opinion, Sire.”

He was still riding the high of knowing he’d be able to rely on Lan Fan, even if he made the selfish decision, even if he allowed his pride to rule just this once, when he made his way to the archway. Ed sat beneath, staring up at the tiny white flowers that dotted overhead.

“They do kind of look like stars, if you cross your eyes a bit.” Ed thumped back, stretching his arms above him.

“You’ll never reach them. They are the stars, after all.” Ling sat down and matched Ed’s pose.

“Do you remember asking to watch the stars with me?”

Ling shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I’d like to get the chance to try for real.”

“Well, that’s all up to you. I could always be your mistress.”

“You wouldn’t, you’re far too moral for that.” Ling hummed. “No, I’m going to call off the engagement. I can’t follow through with it.”

“Is this because of me? Don’t make a decision like that because of me. We just met, after all. What if we like different music or something?”

“Don’t worry. I’d probably have made this decision even if I hadn’t met you.” Probably. Maybe. Ling hoped he would have. “I’ve given up a lot to be Emperor. But I feel like this would be giving up more than I could actually bear.”

“I won’t argue with you.” Ed turned on his side. “I can’t say I wasn’t hoping.”

Ling opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm. Lan Fan was here, and she’d obviously hurried.

“Lord, there’s been a development. We’ve just received word.”

Ling frowned, his brow pulling together. “What is it? Is everything ok?”

Lan Fan looked towards Ed, and then back to him. “Your fiance is heading here, to meet. He cites a misunderstanding as the cause, but I fear he may have learned of,” she made a vague gesture towards Ed. “Your extracurriculars.”

Ed’s face turned red again, a sight that would have usually sent Ling into cheery, warm feelings. But now his stomach felt it was digging its way into the dirt.

He would be meeting his suitor after all.

Ed grabbed his hand, already sitting up. "I shouldn't be here. People are bound to start showing up soon to congratulate you."

Ling didn't let go of Ed's hand as he moved to leave. "Well, you are. Don't even think about leaving me here."

Ed stopped, looking to Ling uncertain. "But--"

"Please."

And so Ed stayed, waiting for Ling as advisors came to tell him he only had two days before the King of Amestris arrived.

#Edling #FMAB #Edward Elric #Ling Yao #Arranged marriage au

[fairestwriting]

title: piece of my world

word count: 1562

summary: Phoebe shuts off the game before she goes to bed, but it doesn’t seem to end there.

commissioned by @invaderphoeb ! hope you enjoyed it and thanks so much for the support <3 also available on ao3 here !

guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested

That game had an interesting prologue.

Phoebe chuckles when she switches the phone off, letting her face meet the mattress for a second, smiling. She had fun with it, there were more chapters to look into later, but for now the prologue would have to be enough — It was that long already, all of its parts stretching far into the night.

She yawns, turning around on the bed, now laying on her back instead of her stomach. It had been her friend’s idea to have her play it, knowing her love for Disney movies and its villains, and she’s grateful for the recommendation. It had been a fun night.

But naturally, everything needs to come to an end, and this far into the night, Phoebe really needed to get some sleep.

Hopping off the bed, they leave their phone on the nightstand and dig into their closet for a couple moments before retrieving their favorite pajama set, changing without thinking about much of anything. They hang the clothes they’d been wearing previously on the chair near the desk, then get under the covers, snuggling up until they’re comfortable.

Pip, their dear teddy bear, had been resting on the nightstand, next to the phone, but soon enough it’s in their arms again, squeezed tightly as they nuzzled it with a small smile.

It’s funny seeing how the personalities of the villains translated into these characters, how they held that sort of familiarity she felt when she watched the movies, but turned into something new and refreshing. She didn’t know exactly who was who yet, just a handful of scattered names her friend had mentioned to her, but seeing some elements on the character’s designs, she had a couple of guesses here and there.

It was an interesting game, really. Phoebe was excited to play some more in the morning, she thinks, and drowsiness began to cloud her mind.

That cat, Grim, with his blue flames a boasting, prideful dialogue, and the headmaster Dire Crowley, with that mask and flashy blue clothing, stay in her mind for a bit. Kind of like they’re staring at him through water, Phoebe sinks into the pool of her thoughts, slowly fading away as sleep takes over, and they don’t leave.

What a funny game. She wonders which characters she’d get to know in chapter one — Which villains were personified there, and how. Crowley’s words, in that specific tone of voice he had, echo along incomprehensibly, and she thinks of this one red haired boy who had chased after Grim in the story.

In Phoebe’s blurred vision, he’s running like that, in those robes. She wonders where he was headed, briefly.

. . .

“What happened here?”

“Where the hell did this come from… who is this person?”

“Are they conscious? Everyone, step away…!”

The world blurs and unblurs, everything darkened with the still not faded unconsciousness of Phoebe’s brain — Not many thoughts run through her mind, is she dreaming? The place around her can barely be seen, but it doesn’t look like her room.

No, it doesn’t look like her room at all.

It’s purple all around, odd lighting comes from a chandelier and hanging lamp lights in a sort of lavender or reddish tone. There are windows on the walls, decorated with intricate framing that looped in all sorts of arabesque-like designs, long dark purplish curtains covering their corners, mirrors all around.

Near those walls, coffins floating ominously, emanating glow from a circle on their very centers that kept fading in and out, with all those people around him too, Phoebe notes vaguely, but he can barely move. He feels something poking at him, first at his wrist, then on his face—

“What are you doing? Don’t touch them like this, or it’ll be off with your head…!”

What…? Phoebe tries to open his eyes, but it’s difficult. The voice is eerily, slightly familiar, the line definitely so, taking her way back to watching the classic Alice in Wonderland in a rainy night, curled up in blankets and holding her—

The teddy bear. Where was it?

“Oi, it looks like they’re waking up…” A rougher, deeper voice comes into play after a couple of steps, Phoebe still can’t see right, but she knows there’s a man looming over her, intense eyes that stand out between darker skin and hair.

Her vision unblurs slightly, for a moment. She sees the slash of the scar across his eye.

“This looks strange…” A faraway mutter by an analytical voice, quiet yet it calls for Phoebe’s attention, she sees another tan man on the borders of the crowd, long hair cascading over his shoulder. A shorter one with white hair and red eyes standing by his side. “Kalim, stand behind.” He says, it comes out commanding, misplaced when it came to the image he got through

“Ehh, Jade, what’s going on? Did the entrance ceremony just get interesting?” Another faraway sound, a giggle among many other mutters.

“Mm, it seems so, Floyd.”

Blur again, but it doesn’t last too long before it leaves again, and the faint shapes of other people come back into Phoebe’s field of vision. The voices around Phoebe don’t stop talking, gawking at them like they’re some sort of lab rat to be experimented on, they want to stand up and tell them to back off, to ask where the hell they are, what sort of dream is this? But they can’t move at all, every limb feeling like it’s been cemented onto the floor.

Despite the way their eyes kept darting around, not even their lids could stay fully open—

“What the hell is that…” Someone else is giggling, leaning forwards, a sly smile with orange hair and red eyes.

“Shush, you’re gonna get into trouble, and we didn’t even get sorted yet..!” A person nearby, short dark hair and eyes of the same color, scolds them.

Phoebe is mostly trying to move. Wiggling fingers or toes, squirming, but it’s like they’re trapped into their own body, fading in and out of consciousness, only one foot into the bizarre dream, and the other…

“Has the headmaster not said he’d check where that person came from?” The voice near the one Phoebe could link the name Floyd to asks, just a tad closer, had he taken a couple steps towards them? “I don’t believe I see him anywhere.”

“Super weird, huh. I like it.” That Floyd drawls, sounding just on the edge of a giggle. “Hey, Jade, d’you think they’re from anywhere we know? Maybe some first year who just passed out here?”

“What are you… you two, get away from them, what excuse would you tell if they found you hovering over an unconscious body?” A new, unfamiliar voice perks up. Looking around drowsily, Phoebe finds the source of that duo, two tall teal-haired young men, a third, smaller and silver-haired one popping up between them through the crowd. “Keep away. This is not our problem to solve—”

“Eh, but Azul likes getting up on other people’s businesses, doesn’t he.” Floyd laughs.

“Now’s not the time for this!” A new voice scolds — the boy who’d said that familiar phrase, off with your head, she finds out he’d been small, red haired, and…

Realization hits even through the haze. Was that the game’s prologue?

“Really, where is that headmaster…”

“You know you can’t trust that guy, all he cares about is…”

“But it’s more interesting like this, right? Entrance ceremonies are so boring…”

Murmurs and more murmurs around them. Phoebe resigns herself to the dream. Maybe she’d wake up. Maybe she’d tell her friend about it tomorrow morning, laughing about how easily the game had trickled into her head, turning into this weird frenzied fantasy.

Because it wasn’t real, right? There’s no way something like this could be!

“Silence!” Another voice — One easily recognized, even before the eye-catching figure of a man in flashy garments and a bird mask steps in hurriedly. It’s that headmaster Crowley, his eyes glowing slightly in the dim light. “Don’t crowd around the unconscious person like this—”

“But do you know where they come from?” The scarred man with a deeper voice says, but takes a step back anyway. The headmaster looks around, frantic.

“Of course! Of course I do, perhaps they’re a student, just…”

“Is that… is that teddy bear glowing?”

The headmaster gasps, Phoebe feels a spark of energy hitting her mind again — Her teddy, she pleads in the back of her mind, trying to move, to look around, and she finally sees Pip, laying right next to her, who would now, but a soft glow emanates from the plush of its body. Phoebe’s efforts go towards stretching her arms to grab it, just hold it again, but it’s still impossible.

“This doesn’t look good.” The headmaster says in an uncharacteristic, quiet voice. “Students! Kindly do step back, I’ll be taking them to the infirmary?”

“But are they a student?” The bossy red-haired boy questions. “Headmaster?”

The voices begin to melt and muddle together like ingredients stirred into the same strange syrup — Phoebe sees glowing eyes through a mask very clearly as her body is picked up, internally panicking before the teddy bear is also taken from the floor and placed within her arms.

It doesn’t take too long for everything to go black again.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst oc #commissions tag #dire crowley #riddle rosehearts #jade leech #floyd leech #leona kingscholar #jamil viper #lis writing

[guqin-and-flute]

Jin Guangyao supervises a-Fu and a-Ling's first sleepover while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are night-hunting

[Well, this was SUPPOSED to be just fluffy, but that’s a little hard inside of JGY’s head]

A-Fu bounded his way into the room and flung himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms with such force that it nearly knocked him over. “Oof--my child, please--” he chuckled as he caught him and A-Fu rubbed his face all over the embroidered Sparks Amidst Snow peony on the front of his robes, likely wiping his snot off on it. His clothes were still cold and damp from their flight.

“We--” A-Fu reared his head back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Are gonna stay up all night!”

A-Yuan appeared to have stayed behind by Lan Xichen’s side, because the pair made their entrance at a more measured pace as Lan Xichen reminded, patiently, “While the rules of Carp Tower may be different than Cloud Recesses, staying up all night is not good for you.” 

Rather shyly, A-Yuan bowed in greeting to Jin Guangyao and he nodded back, smiling down at the boy. It had always been vaguely amusing to him that A-Yuan had more patience and decorum than A-Fu, who was born a Lan. One had to wonder if it was the influence of the slightly more rowdy Nie Clan exposure or simply innate. “Seeing how I am the one watching you and I cannot stay up all night, I’m going to have to disagree with you, Fufu,” Jin Guangyao slotted his gentle negation right alongside Lan Xichen’s and braced for the inevitable pout.

Instead, he received a sunny smile. “Oh, okay, then you’ll just go to bed at the Lan time and we’ll stay up to help the sun rise!”

A-Yuan was looking between the adults with a rather furtive smile, as if trying to silently communicate that he did not, in fact, condone this plan and would not like to be a part of the repercussions. Jin Guangyao grinned and hefted A-Fu over to his side to brace him on his hip, his back beginning to complain. “Ah, what a creative set of ears you have, Fufu--we say ‘you’re not staying up all night’, and yet they hear ‘you’re allowed to stay up until sunrise’! Truly remarkable.”

Quite dramatically, A-Fu sighed and smushed his hands up onto Jin Guangyao’s face, smearing his cheeks around. “Dieeee, don’t be a party pooper, it’s our first Jin sleepover with all of us!”

Gently, Jin Guangyao shook his face free of his cold fingered grasp and turned toward Lan Xichen to receive the kiss to his forehead. Despite A-Fu beginning to wiggle, he leaned into it, let himself inhale the scent of ozone-sky, clean wind, and sandalwood that clung to his robes and hair. The habitual tension torqued at his core loosened, like a sigh. “Easy trip? You’re not too tired after carrying them both, are you?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, slid to kiss his temple. “I’m fine, A-Yao. I’m sorry again for the short notice--Wangji is off on his own night hunt and this cannot wait.”

Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao smiled. “It’s no trouble. A-Ling is very excited.”

“And you?”

“Also very excited--ah!” A-Fu made a lunge off of his hip, not being content to simply wiggle his displeasure at being kept from pelting about and Jin Guangyao had to stoop to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. “A-Fu!” The boy froze, guiltily, and let himself be lowered down to his feet. Jin Guangyao crouched down and straightened his robes and headband with little tugs to lessen the sting of his scolding, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “Patience is valuable. You’ll hurt yourself that way.”

As soon as no more admonishments came, A-Fu brightened immediately. “You wouldn’t drop me. A-Yuan!! Let’s go find A-Ling!”

Darting away, he seized A-Yuan’s wrist and dragged him out and down the hall, already excitedly chattering about the plans of the night as Lan Xichen chuckled and shook his head, winding an arm about Jin Guangyao’s waist when he rose. “Good luck. He couldn’t keep still the entire trip and told me the same thing when I reminded him that dropping from my arms in the sky was a bad idea.”

“Aiya,” he shook his head and, since they were alone, turned inside his embrace and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he murmured against him. “But you will be careful, yes?”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen tilted his head, pressed a firmer, more complete kiss against his lips, slipping his arms fully around him before pulling back to smile down at him. “I always am. Da-ge will be with me.”

With practiced ease, he swept aside the tangle of anxiety, old hurt, regret, and darker things the mention of Nie Mingjue bubbled inside his gut and smiled back. “Of course.”

The boys were already fighting by the time Jin Guangyao found them in Jin Ling’s toy room down the hall--something about the colors of toy swords--but quieted down fairly quickly when he mildly suggested that perhaps they wouldn’t need more sugar after dinner because they were already so lively. Eating went well, as both A-Ling and A-Fu were too busy inhaling food like they were starving and A-Yuan was making like a good Lan child and not talking during meals. He contented himself watching them dart around afterward, announcing in grandiose little voices the various heroes they were and what monsters they were battling. Without direct adult interference, A-Yuan grew a little more vibrant and playful, and though he never reached the same volume of the other 2, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Jin Guangyao faded into the background for them like so much furniture. He smiled as he watched them play. It was funny how sometimes it worked on children as well as adults. 

That is, until A-Ling twisted around like he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, right, shushu?”

Jin Guangyao blinked and smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say all that.” Modesty was a good trait to teach your children. In any case, his father would certainly agree with his hedging and Madam Jin would certainly take exception if her grandson began calling such a bastard a hero in her presence. “Most people of my generation were a part of the Sunshot Campaign. Why do you ask, A-Ling?”

“Well, you just seem so normal.”

Jin Guangyao did not let the slightly darker, wry humor he felt coil in his chest bleed into his perfectly reasonable smile. “I’m pleased that you think so.”

“But heroes aren’t normal, though, they’re heroes,” A-Fu seemed to understand whatever A-Ling was failing to adequately explain. “They aren’t moms and dads and stuff.”

“What should they be instead, then, A-Fu? Simply stories?”

His son squinted his eyes at him, like he was solving a particularly difficult equation and looked over at A-Yuan and back. “But...you didn’t have...like...sleepovers and things, right?”

Jin Guangyao was silent for a moment, keeping his expression perfectly balanced. There had never been another child to whisper the night away with. No adult in the corner to watch him play. Nights were not a time for fun. “No, A-Fu, I didn’t. But plenty of others have.”

A-Fu cocked his head. “Why not?”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Why don’t we see if the cook has any sweet buns leftover? I know she baked them fresh this morning.”

After the hunt and acquisition of their prize and after the children had licked their hands clean, A-Fu looked up at him with a few crumbles of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose and said, “You can be part of the sleepover if you want, though, die, ‘cause this is our first one all together too!”

Heart pinching, flooding with warmth, he reached out and brushed the little crystals off with his thumb, tilting his head. “So thoughtful, xiao-Fu. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You’re fun, die! Right, A-Yuan?”

With a shy smile, A-Yuan nodded. “I liked when you taught us about the plants in the woods, that one time.”

The time in question had been more than 2 years ago when they were quite a bit younger, not too many months after the boy had recovered fully from his illness to be well enough to leave the Hanshi where he was staying with Lan Xichen and A-Yuan for extended periods of time. Even as A-Fu screwed up his face in confusion, the strange buzz of realization that he lived in the minds of these children in ways he did not control rushed through Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, cognitively or as if this wasn’t true of everyone, but...when they were small and unsteady on their feet, still learning the ways of the world and the words for things, one forgot to consider them people on the way to becoming themselves. Recording and collecting moments that were inconsequential to their grown ups. When he considered his own childhood, there wasn’t a boy who lived there, but himself, as he ever was, reflected back through time, the story written and unyielding. He had never felt particularly like a child.

And yet, here was a boy who remembered him fondly from an insignificant walk from some recordless day for pointing out a few edible plants along a path. 

He found himself wondering if his mother had ever been taken out of her own head for a moment, watching him watch her, not knowing the picture she painted across his memory. For good or for ill. 

Always good.

He blinked back to himself and made sure to smile at A-Yuan. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t remember that,” A-Fu complained just as A-Ling said, “I didn’t get that! Shushu, tell me about plants!” 

That startled a genuine laugh out of Jin Guangyao and he knelt down. “I’m no expert, but in the morning, what if I took you all out to the gardens and told you about some of the plants that we have growing here in Carp Tower? Would you boys like that?”

The answering, competitively loud yells of YES from both A-Fu and A-Ling had him wincing but A-Yuan’s eager nod made him smile. 

There was whining and stalling at bedtime, misuse of soap, and a hastily declared armistice of a mutinous pillow fight because there are lanterns in here, A-Ling, you know better, but, finally, they were tucked in, 3 dark little heads on the pillow with the blanket pulled up to their chins. “Are we going to greet the sun?” Jin Guangyao asked with knowing patience, kneeling beside their bed, leaning with his elbow in his own nightclothes.

“Nooo?” A-Fu widened his eyes, as if his own father didn’t know when he was trying to be innocent.

Smoothing a palm over his forehead, bare of its headband, Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows. “What happens if I find you trying to stay up to greet the sun, A-Fu?”

“Youuuu...join us!”

Jin Guangyao blinked slowly, smile still fixed on his face. A-Fu sighed grumpily. “I probably have to clean dishes for a month or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it up to your blue father.”

A-Ling snickered as A-Fu stiffened. “Nooo, don’t tell him!”

“Then I will advise you, Fufu, to not do it at all,” he replied indulgently, stroking his thumb between his eyebrows.

Tucked in the middle so the other two didn’t fight, A-Yuan piped up, saying, “I won’t let them, bo-fu.”

When A-Yuan gave him a smile, he felt his own soften without his say so--but here, with uncalculating eyes and sleepy shadows, he supposed that was alright. He reached over and patted A-Yuan’s round cheek, resisting the illogical parentally-encoded impulse to pinch them. “Thank you, A-Yuan.” Then, he reached farther to do the same for A-Ling. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”

As Jin Guangyao rose and moved to the door, A-Fu chirped, “Love you.” He paused as the other 2 echoed the same words, like A-Fu had reminded them of an important ritual. 

Drawing in a deep breath around his suddenly tight throat, he turned back and smiled. “Love you, too.”

#xiyao #3zun raise jingyi au #my fic #my stuff #jgy #lxc #ljy #jl #lsz #Thanks for the prooompt Maaads it's way angstier than I meaaaaant #madtomedgar #3zun raise jingyi content

[eveenstar]

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔 [𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒇𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]

||➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭||

Tags/Warnings: Possible amnesia, insomnia and a brief panick attack mentions.

Summary: You wake up back in your bed, with no idea how you got there in the first place. With a foggy mind, you notice that strange things are happening around your house.

Note: Honestly, I've been so excited to write this series. It's going a bit slow in the beginning but I promise from chapter 3 things will began to get serious! Can you guess what is happening in (Y/N)'s home?

Loki knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, his eyes focused on yours and you felt everything stop around you two.

"Marry me, (Y/N), " Loki said softly, grabbing your hand on his. "You'll never have to be alone,"

You smiled, you smiled as if you didn't remember this never happened. Tears covered your vision but it really wasn't tears, you weren't crying, but everything slowly began to get blurry. You felt yourself fall, as if your own soul left your body and fell into abism. Loki's voice echoed in your mind.

"I love you and that's all I really know."

You woke up in a harsh gasp, hands sweaty. You were met again with a cold house, now dark due to how late in the night it should be. Not even threads of light escaped through the blinds, nor you could recognize where anything in your bedroom should be.

Turning on the bedside lamp, you pushed yourself from the king-size bed and grabbed your forest green robe and dressed it, glad that at least it's somewhat warm.

Wasn't it blue?

The bedside alarm clock read exactly 3:30 AM, and you felt a sudden deja vu. Lately, you've been awaking up at this exact hour of the night, for no other reason than strange dreams.

You decided that a nice cup of milk would suit this situation, as you recalled that your mother used to say that "milk helps the sleep" and even though you doubted that affirmation of hers, anything now would feel better if it meant to help you close your eyes and drift off to another world. Your feet felt cold against the floor tiles, and again you forgot to wear socks (even though you were sure you wore them the day before, for one reason you know couldn't think why).

As you poured the milk down on your plain white mug, it finally accured to you. Yesterday's call with Natasha and the drive trip to the Avengers Tower. You ran a hand through your hair and frowned slightly, everything afterwards felt like a distant memory. Foggy and confusing. How did you end up in your house, in your bed? How did you forget? Probably from the lack of sleep you've been getting lately.

Maybe you should call Natasha.

Ignoring how late it was, you pulled out your phone and noticed it was dead. Sighing to yourself, you put it to charge while you left to explore your house and re-make the steps you probably took when you got home the day before.

Your clothes were all messed up in a chair, your shoes looked like somebody threw them across the room and didn't bother to get them, otherwise everything else looked in place. You paced back and forth, getting a bit impacient at your lack of remembering such things.

The flowers.

The Narcissus flowers.

Where are them?

You grabbed the empty flower vase, which used to be filled every week with beautiful flowers picked from your personal garden. The house withhold a tense atmosphere, heavy as the rain that falls from the dark clouds. The pale-coloured brightness that the kitchen's lamp provided a ball of light around you, like a little angel was protecting you against the darkness and you hoped it not to go away.

Your body was frozen in place, you didn't even realize you weren't breathing until a hrash exhale left your lungs and the flower vase fell from your shaking hands, into the mosaic floor.

You ran to your bedroom as if a big, bad monster was chasing you and quickly closed the door. You blocked it with a chair and turned on your phone, which was fortunately (and the luckiest you've been in a good while, most likely) charged enough to call someone.

"(Y/N)? It's 4 am, are you okay?"

"Something is wrong, Natasha, I, I can't remember anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you please come by my house?" You heard her grab something, "Please..." you whispered.

..."And that's when I called Natasha." You finished explaining and took a drink out of the cup of water Steve gave you.

"How long has this been happening?" He asked, a worried look on his blue eyes. Natasha, who was sitting next to him, carried the same look.

"Few days, weeks I suppose." You looked in between both of them, and guilt took over you. "I'm sorry, it's silly."

"Hey, don't say that. It's completely normal." Nat caressed your arm sweetly. It felt good to see her again, even though it was only yesterday when you two met. She looked exactly the same as three years ago, but she had a different aura around her. Sadder, darker. Steve had it too.

"Hey, (Y/N), it may not be the best time but...There's a therapy group I know, and maybe it would be good if you take a look at it." Steve suggested, his arms crossed and a deep look upon you.

You gazed to the ground again, "I'll think about it."

"I just think something's weird here, " Natasha said, "You never ordered Narcissus flowers to your home."

If this was another situation, you'd laugh at it. But Natasha was serious, and you knew it. The Narcissus flowers don't grow in your garden, and you followed a specific order of plants to buy every week, and they weren't in the list. They never were. Not after Loki's death.

"I probably ordered them by mistake." Play it off. Act cool. It's nothing, it has to be just a simple mistake. You got confused and ordered them instead.

"If you feel safer, we can get somebody to protect your house. Just for good measure." Steve took the mugs and cups to the sink, and didn't miss the chance to give another helpful advice like the good friend he is. You pondered on it for a while, and you could enjoy the company.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Natasha, who was staring at you again, opened her mouth to say anything but you got ahead of her first, "Well, thanks for coming but I need to get a couple of hours of sleep. Sorry for bothering you guys."

"You would never."

You walked them to the front door, and Natasha pulled you in a surprise hug. You didn't even know how to react. It's been so long since you've had human touch.

She pulled back, and you swore you saw a tear in the corner of her eyes. Those tears that come at the most unfortunate moments, where you can't most definitely break down. Natasha hid them well, not from you, because you too know that trick. Never break down, never show weakness to anyone or anything. The woman gave you a calm (but you knew the pain behind it) smile.

"Call us if you need anything else, okay?"

You nodded and replied with a vague smile back.

The hours passed, passed and passed. The clouds in the sky were as heavy as your soul felt, and soon they began to cry out. The rain slammed against your windows and warned about an upcoming thunderstorm was on its way. Spring felt more as a Winter 2.0 and in the blink of an eye, it was eight o'clock.

According to one of Natasha's texts, a security guard would arrive at ten AM. Until then, you prepared a nice breakfast for you (and for the guard, you wanted to be as kind as possible). Thanks to Steve, who brought enough food to last for at least a few days, you didn't have to worry about starving now.

You, relaxed for once in a lifetime, made your way to the couch to hopefully watch some pre-recorded tvshows. You were too lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice how in all framed pictures of yourself, your face was blurred out.

#marvel fanfic series #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel loki x reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #saturn gardens fanfic series

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

((2k - missing scene during the time Meng Yao is protecting Lan Xichen after the burning of Cloud Recesses))

Meng Yao wakes up in the same way he has for the last few weeks since their injuries had healed for it - in Xichen’s arms.

It isn’t strictly a...physical thing, he doesn’t think, since it had definitely started as a way to both share warmth and to have reassurance through the night that the other one hadn't been taken by their pursuers. But after the last accident for the Wen that Meng Yao had orchestrated to give them some breathing room, and having found them a small shack in the countryside to stay in that had a door and a hearth and everything...neither of those excuses is really holding much water anymore.

And yet here he is, wrapped up securely in the other man's arms and held close to that broad chest and he closes his eyes to savor it, his expression unguarded in a brief moment of weakness that he doesn’t realize he has a witness for until he feels Lan Xichen's hand drifting to brush softly against his arm currently wrapped across the other man's chest - precisely the position they’d fallen asleep in last night as Xichen had lain on his back in typical Lan fashion with Meng Yao cradled gently against his side.

The touch is much too careful to be done in his sleep.

Meng Yao's expression instantly freezes and he feels tension creep into his shoulders as he begins mentally berating himself for the slip-up. He can’t afford those. Hadn’t been able to afford those for a very long time.

“I know you're awake," he says quietly as he looks at the rough homespun blanket covering both of them up to the waist. "Let me up, I can start breakfast.”

“Hmmm..No,” Xichen murmurs, voice a soft rumble low in his chest, making it vibrate ever so slightly under his arm that he’s now stroking more openly, having been caught out. “I’m comfortable.” Meng Yao lets out a delicate little snort at that and he glances up to look at Lan Xichen’s faint hint of a smile in response, his eyes still closed against the morning sun creeping in through every loose board in the walls.

“We don’t sleep like this to be comfortable,” he reminds the other with a scoff and he’s unsurprised when all that gets him is a slight widening of the smile and Xichen’s other hand beginning to stroke his back, his palm warm through the flimsy barrier of his sheer underrobe.

“No? Hm. Why do we sleep this way, then?”

“We..it is…” Meng Yao props himself up a bit on his elbow to get some distance (it’s difficult to think when Xichen’s shoulder is warm and solid under his cheek) and he frowns to himself as he mentally stumbles over the next excuse in his ever-growing list of them. Unfortunately they’re all equally flimsy and easily argued, and he knows that Xichen will argue whatever he chooses in his gentle way, try to push him into telling the truth. He’s been doing that more lately, pushing beyond what he used to in a search for answers - whether Meng Yao wants to give them or not.

“It’s alright, A-Yao,” he murmurs and Meng Yao looks up through his lashes to find the other man already watching him, gaze warm and honey-sweet as he looks up at him. He’s so beautiful like this, Meng Yao thinks. He’s still sleep-soft and his skin is hot even through the double layer of their robes, his hair fanned out on the pillow under his head and his cheeks a slight, delicate shell-pink, his lips a few shades darker. He meets Xichen’s gaze again and feels himself getting caught in it, laid bare by nothing more than a gentle voice and kind eyes.

Pathetic.

“No, come back,” Xichen urges as he drags his hand up the length of his forearm to wrap those beautiful, long fingers around his wrist so he can gently pull his hand from his shoulder to his lips apparently for the sole purpose of pressing feather-light kisses against his knuckles. Meng Yao is shocked enough by the gesture that his mask cracks again and it earns him a gentle sigh of relief. “Ah, there you are. I like it best when you don’t hide your face,” he murmurs, and though Meng Yao could press the issue and argue that he hadn’t hidden his face at all, he knows what he means. And he’s tired of arguing.

“Xichen…”

“A-Yao,” the only man to ever truly see him whispers. He brushes that broad hand up his back and really, how was Meng Yao ever supposed to resist?

His eyes slip shut of their own accord as Xichen curls his hand into a gentle fist against his shoulder blade and the thin fabric of his underrobe whispers against soft skin as it slips down over the curve of one shoulder to expose it before getting caught in the crook of his elbow and sliding no further. Meng Yao gasps as pliant lips press into the newly exposed hollow at the outer end of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder and he bites his bottom lip to stifle anything else - word or noise - that wants to escape under the skilled and methodical ministrations of Xichen’s lips.

It lasts for what feels like a small eternity of nothing but tender kisses and quiet, unsteady breathing shared between them until a particularly loud bird call from outside startles Meng Yao and he shoves Xichen away with trembling hands. He scrambles out of bed with another gasp on his lips and he tugs his robe more fully around himself, eyes wide and wild as he pants for breath as if he’d just finished a full practice bout with Nie Mingjue. Xichen is still in bed, sitting up now with the blanket pooled around his hips, robe half open and draped on his musculare frame in a way that’s criminally delicious, and Meng Yao’s neck and shoulder are faintly aching with bruises in the shape of the mouth currently turning his name into a question and a prayer simultaneously.

“A-Yao?” Xichen murmurs as the hand he had stretched out to try to catch him falls back to the bed with a soft thump. Meng Yao darts a glance around the small structure before he drifts to the door on bare feet (ugh, dirt floors) and he doesn’t even open the ragged collection of boards that’s all that really stands between them and the world, he simply looks through one of the gaps to hunt for any irregularities in the overgrown grass close at hand or beyond it in the woods sheltering the clearing from civilization. “There’s no one here but us,” Xichen calls quietly from the bed and Meng Yao straightens his posture slowly, trying to gather as much dignity around himself as he can muster when dressed in nothing but a black robe thinner than a piece of paper. He turns back to face the other to find him looking at him with so much tenderness it makes his entire body ache.

“You can’t know that for sure. We could be found at any moment.”

“Then we will be found and we will deal with it then,” he replies implacably and Meng Yao does not stamp his foot but he is sorely tempted to.

“Then everything I’ve done for you would have been for nothing!! You can’t be caught!” he retorts, too sharp, too jagged. He waits for the anger, for the indignation at being spoken to so disrespectfully by an inferior, but it’s Xichen so of course there’s nothing in those wide, trusting eyes but concern and sadness. Meng Yao schools his features as well as he can back towards something polite and distant as he refuses to shuffle his feet. It would be a sign of weakness, and that’s even more intolerable than the idea of kicking up more dirt to stick to the bottom of his bare feet. “You are the Sect Heir-” an unsubtle reminder of the dynamic that should exist between them even now, and that Xichen regularly disregards as if it never existed in the first place - “And you have the majority of the Lan library on your person. You absolutely cannot be caught.”

“You are equally as important to me, A-Yao. I will not allow you to be caught either.”

Silence reigns, tense and uncomfortable, as Meng Yao attempts to make that declaration align with his own views. He’s unsurprised to find it quite impossible.

“A-Yao...why aren’t you returning to the Unclean Realm?” Lan Xichen asks after a while of nothing but staring and the unsynchronized rhythms of their breathing and Meng Yao groans as he finally does give into his childish urge and stomps across the small shack to plop himself firmly on the edge of the bed, back bowed. What’s the point in keeping up appearances anymore anyway? Lan Xichen has seen him at his worst already, and Meng Yao, at least, knows that worse is coming. It will do him good later to nurture that trust now, to make Lan Xichen feel special for being allowed to see him unguarded.

He refuses to acknowledge that he might be allowing it for the sake of the fragile hope in his chest that someone in the world could see the truest version of him, see the hideousness lurking at his core, and care for him anyway.

“I have been banished,” he replies, voice cold and empty as he stares at the opposite wall. He has plans, of course - he always has plans - but his banishment is still there in the front of his mind, taking up valuable space that should be used to plot his own survival with a despair he hadn’t thought himself still capable of. “I have nowhere to go.”

“Oh A-Yao…”

“You cannot take me to Gusu,” he replies instantly, turning his head to meet the other man’s saddened gaze. He isn’t sure if he looked like that before or after his second pronouncement but it doesn’t really matter very much. “It will need rebuilding. Our position is still dangerous. It will anger Nie-zongzhuo, it will damage my reputation and yours, it -“

“Shh A-Yao. It’s alright. Come here.”

Xichen never interrupts. He simply doesn’t. Not even when he should, or when it’s clear that he wants to. He doesn’t. The fact of it happening now is enough to shock Meng Yao and he obeys without thought. He lays himself straight back and plants his feet on the floor as his head somehow ends up cradled in Xichen’s lap, the man’s nimble fingers deftly working out the worst of the snags in his hair from overnight, though there aren’t many. He’s always so exhausted at the end of the day that he sleeps still as stone on Xichen’s chest. Still. The gesture is oddly reminiscent of his mother holding him and soothing him at the end of long days spent running away from other children in the streets outside the brothel in Yunmeng, the ones who wanted nothing to do with him except to see how much fear they could subject him to before they were called home for dinner. His eyes fill with tears unexpectedly as the sense memory hits him right in the chest and Xichen doesn’t even pause in his careful stroking.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs with a gentle sweep of his fingertips across his forehead, the gesture turning into a pass of the back of one knuckle against his temple that’s wet with tears he’s powerless to stop. A sob breaks out of Meng Yao’s chest, a little baby bird of a thing, too fragile for the world that’s waiting to destroy it.

“No,” he protests, voice cracked porcelain as he closes his eyes against the sight of the gaps in the thatching overhead. “It’s not. Nothing is.”

“I’m here,” Xichen replies, beginning to sound less composed than usual. “I’m right here, A-Yao. We’ll figure this out.” Meng Yao tenses in preparation to sit up but Xichen’s free hand is suddenly on his chest, restraining and comforting at once as he leans down. His hair, unbound and still a little tangled from sleep, falls around them in a curtain and pools like heavy silk on Meng Yao’s shoulders as Xichen leans down to press his lips against his forehead, soft and slow. “Don’t get up,” he pleads. “Stay with me.”

Meng Yao should stand up. He should compose himself, he should pretend that he never had a reason to compose himself in the first place. He should plan their next move, try to figure out how much longer they can hunker down in the shack before they have to move on to avoid detection.

He shouldn’t let Xichen make him weak.

“Huan-ge,” he breathes and he feels the shudder in the curve of Xichen’s body around his head and shoulders. “Take care of me,” he adds. And instead of standing, instead of establishing a proper boundary, he lets Xichen drag him into the bed properly to do just that.

#the untamed fanfic #xiyao #Lan Xichen #Meng Yao #Jin Guangyao #<— before he’s Jin Guangyao but meh #I know it’s not all that original but oh well #I’m mostly trying to experiment and figure out how I want to write their dynamic cuz Oh Boy is it complicated