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julietaswifey · 2 years

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A life after you

It’s been two years since Julieta lost her husband, and on the day of his death she sits with her daughters and talks to Señor Avila

I wanted to bring back the bestest old man OC and had this idea for them bonding over their lost spouses. And also some Julieta and her daughters because I love them. Enjoy!

Also on ao3 if anyone wants to read it there

Julieta hated that date. Hated it, hated it, hated it. She hated it so much that she could feel her stomach turning just from seeing the numbers on the calendar. 16th of June, the worst day of her life. The day when she had believed she would die. She hadn’t, she had lived. Or, well, half of her had lived. The other half was two years dead.

It felt like a mockery that it was such a beautiful evening despite the terrible thing that had happened that fateful day two years earlier. Julieta knew it wasn’t, she knew that Pepa had purposefully tried very hard all day to keep the weather nice. It must have been such a struggle for her, she also hated that day. They all did.

Slowly Julieta walked up the hill, her daughters behind her. Except for the chirping of birds and the gentle breeze moving through the grass it was silent. Julieta had never particularly liked silence, and neither had her husband, but she didn’t know what to say. The girls seemingly didn’t know what to say either. And who could blame them for it?

When they reached the tree with the little bench underneath it at the top of the hill flowers exploded out from around them and suddenly the ground was all imaginable colours and the tree that previously had been green was in full bloom. It was a beautiful sight.

“Papá would have really liked this” Mirabel said softly.

Julieta turned to look at the girls. They had grown so much, all three of them young women. Luisa would be a mother soon, Isabela had been traveling for awhile, Mirabel had taken over Agustín’s work as the town’s tailor.

“He would have loved this” she agreed.

She carefully sat down, bathing in the sea of flowers. She could have sat on the little bench but it felt more right to sit on the ground with the flowers all around her The sweet scent filled her nose, brought her to a happier place. A happier time. She remembered the anniversary of their wedding just a year or two before the accident, Isabela had filled that same hill with flowers for them then.

The thought of that day brought a small smile to her face despite the ache in her heart. Her sweet husband. And their sweet daughters.

“Do you think he can see us now?” Luisa sighed as she also sat on the ground.

“I hope so” Isabela answered.

She hesitated before sitting down, but ultimately ended up laying flat on her back, wistfully gazing at the clear sky above them.

“I think he’s really proud of you” Julieta told them.

He had always been so proud of their daughters. Every moment of every day he had been so proud that he beamed. He had to be so even then, wherever he was.

“He’s proud of you, as well, Mamá” Mirabel said.

She remained standing, as if she didn’t want to hurt the flowers that had sprung out of the ground in memory of her father.

Julieta held our a hand, reached for her youngest daughter. Slowly Mirabel took the hand she offered and sat next to her. Mirabel always had cold hand, a trait she had got from her father. Cold hands and a warm heart.

“I haven’t done anything, but you three” she said. “You three have grown into women that put the stars to shame.”

Isabela was barely visible, hidden under her creation, but suddenly an arm came up and a hand took Julieta’s free hand. Isabela’s hands were warm, but just as her sister she had Agustín’s heart.

“Papá loved you more than anything” Julieta continued. “Never forget that.”

“We know” Luisa said. “And we love him, and you.”

“The best mamá in the world” Mirabel added with a smile.

Julieta’s arms weren’t long enough to hug them all at the same time and yet she tried. She tried to hold her daughters close and kiss all of their foreheads. She wasn’t enough on her own to do that but she tried with her whole being to be. She had to be, there was no one to help her, no one to complete the family hug.

The mix of melancholy and joy was strange, but it had been like a companion for Julieta ever since she lost Agustín. She had found joy again, but she was also heartbroken over that he was not there to share it with her. He wouldn’t hold their first nieto, he hadn’t seen Mirabel take over his business, he had never received Isabela’s letters from all over América del Sur.

It was hard to see beauty without him because he wasn’t next to her and pointed it out. It was hard to remember to take breaks because he didn’t come into the kitchen and pry her away from the stove. It was hard to fall asleep at night because during their years together she had grown so used to his arms around her. Nothing was easy anymore, and yet the world kept spinning.

They sat there on the hill until the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and shadows had began taking hold of the town.

“We should probably get back to Casita” Luisa said, making a move to stand up.

“You three go, I’ll stay a little longer” Julieta said.

She was in need of a moment alone, there had been people around her all day.

“Are you sure?” Isabela asked. “It will be dark quite soon.”

Julieta gave her a smile.

“I’m sure.”

Julieta watched as her hijas walked down the hill and disappeared into the town. The birds had gone quiet and instead crickets were chirping. She couldn’t see them, but she heard them so well that she imagined they were all around her.

The bees that had been buzzing through the air before had disappeared. None of them had been stung. If Agustín had been there he would have been unrecognisable because of all the bee stings, he had been like a magnet for them.

“I would have brought arepas” she caught herself saying out loud. “I would have healed you, as you healed me.”

She wasn’t mad, she knew she would never get an answer. She was aware of that the gentle wind wrapping itself around her was the closest thing to his embrace she would feel.

“I have this wound in my heart that won’t go away” she told her late husband. “A hole that has been there since you left me.”

Two years. It was no time at all and an eternity at the same time. Two years with him had been nothing, two years without him had lasted a lifetime. She felt old. There was barely any black left in her hair, her face had more lines than she could count and her body became less and less agile with each passing day. Agustín had kept her young for so long, but he wasn’t there to tend to the garden he had planted and slowly everything was withering. She wouldn’t die, but she wasn’t the woman she had been before.

“You were the kindest person I have ever met but it was unbelievably cruel of you to leave me in such a manner. You didn’t even give me a farewell.”

There had been so much left. They hadn’t been done with anything, it hadn’t been time for him to go. If only he had been more careful. If only she had been there to save him.

Her fingers found a flower and ripped it out of the ground. One at a time she plucked the petals until there was none left. It was a shame to destroy something so beautiful but at the same time it felt right. There was something calming in slowly picking apart the flower. An outlet for the anger over how her life with Agustín had ended.

“Might I join you, Señora Madrigal?”

Julieta winced and looked up to see Señor Avila standing not far away from her.

The old man was leaning on his cane, and while he was not smiling pure warmth radiated from him. No one had kinder eyes than him, despite that they were hard to see under his bushy eyebrows.

“Of course” she found herself saying despite her thoughts about needing time to herself.

Señor Avila came up to her.

“I suppose all these flowers are your daughter’s doing” he said, very slowly and carefully lowering himself down on the bench behind her.

“It’s for her father” she explained. “Today it’s been two years since he died.”

She didn’t look back at him, kept her eyes on the ruined flower she held in one hand. If one could even call what remained a flower.

“Two years” he repeated. “It still hurts.”

“It will never stop hurting.”

How could it ever stop hurting? She had lost half of her heart, the love of her life and the father of her daughters. She had spent the bigger part of her life with him, faced hardships and danger with him. He had been her rock, her safety. And he was just gone.

“You will carry that pain with you until it turns into a gentle ache that is overshadowed by happiness over the time you had together.”

Julieta felt like a petty child over the rush of anger that surged through her at his words. What did he know about her pain? Who was he to tell her what would happen with it?

She bit down on her tongue so hard she tasted blood to keep herself from saying something stupid. The shame over the stupid reaction was enough to keep her from doing something she would regret.

“It’s been almost twenty years since my wife passed, I know what it’s like, Julieta.”

For a moment she had been so caught up in herself that she had forgotten about that he was a widower.

“Your wife was a good person” she said.

She had made such wonderful paintings, and been just as kind as her husband. She had helped tutor the children in town when the teacher had too much to do, and made decorations for all fiestas. While she had been gone for a long time Julieta still remembered her vividly.

“As was your husband.”

“Did you ever feel like her death would kill you, too?”

She felt surprise over the question that had come from her own mouth, but she was also desperate for an answer. It had been gnawing on her for so long. The feeling of that she would die.

“Oh I was sure of that I wouldn’t live long, especially as we had no children, but it seems I’m still standing. Death makes you old, but it doesn’t kill you unless you allow it to.”

At least Julieta had her children and the rest of the family. She wasn’t alone, had never been. But Señor Avila and his wife had been the only ones in their family to survive and they had no children.

“I feel like I have aged a hundred years” she said.

“You have many years left in you, Julieta” he chuckled. “Trust old Alejandro Avila, he knows.”

It was so unfair that she had many years and Agustín had nothing. She would have given him all of hers without a moment’s hesitation. Without a doubt, in a heartbeat, she would have given them away for him.

“My mamá said the same thing.”

Papá had died mere hours after Julieta was born. Mamá had lost the love of her life and she had been so young when it happened. Yet she had lived a long life.

“Alma is full of wisdom.”

“It doesn’t feel like she’s right about it, though.”

“She is. You’ll live many more years, and you’ll be happy for it.”

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to spend many more years with her family, see them grow and change. If she did then she would also be able to tell Agustín about it when she was reunited with him, in case he couldn’t see it for himself.

“My daughter, Luisa, is having a baby late autumn” Julieta said. “It will be my first grandchild.”

“There is nothing more wonderful than welcoming a new life into the world. Congratulations.”

Julieta had been present at most births in the town since she had been perhaps fifteen, she couldn’t quite remember. And every time she got to place a newborn in the arms of their mother she had felt such a euphoria. But it could also swing the other way, nothing was more sorrowful than a dead baby.

“I’m very happy, and I think it will do the whole family good.”

Some joy. Dolores and Mariano had their daughter a mere month before Agustín’s death, and were planning on more children. It had been strange seeing the little bundle of joy in a house so full of mourning, but hopefully no one would pass away after the birth of Luisa’s child. Julieta didn’t know if she could handle another tragedy.

“But every time I think about it my heart aches because Agustín isn’t here for it” she continued. “I looked forward so much to growing old with him and this part of our lives beginning and now he’s not here with me.”

Once more her fingers found a flower that she ripped from the ground and once more she began plucking the petals. Though that time she struggled with seeing it as her vision was blurred with tears. She hadn’t wanted to cry, she felt so weak and useless, crying wouldn’t help her, it wouldn’t get her husband back.

As she tried to take a deep breath she felt her whole body tremble. But then a large hand was placed on her shoulder, as if to steady her.

When she looked back she was met by a pair of warm brown eyes paired with a kind smile.

“I’m so sorry” she sniffled, raising a hand to wipe the tears away.

“Don’t apologise for weeping over your lost love” Señor Avila said softly. “It’s hard.”

“I just… I just don’t know if I can do it on my own.”

“No estás solo, Julieta.”

Despite her efforts to hold them back tears began running down her cheeks, and for a long while all she could do was sit there and weep while Señor Avila had his hand hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t much, but the comfort of his hand and his silence was more than enough. He understood her. He knew what it was like.

“I’m sorry I have kept you here for so long” Julieta said, her voice close to a whisper.

It was almost dark around them, the air was lit up by dozens and dozens of fireflies. Below them the night life of the town had begun, the laughs of the people dancing through the air up to them where they sat on the hill.

Her eyes were most likely red from crying, and she could imagine she didn’t look very happy. She wasn’t so keen on walking down the streets where everyone could see her, she didn’t want to share her grief.

“I chose to sit here with you and I don’t regret that” he assured her.

“Would you mind sitting with me for a little longer?”

Julieta wasn’t ready to go back yet, but she also wasn’t ready to be alone.

“I will sit with you for however long you need.”

#julieta madrigal #julieta x agustin #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #encanto #encanto fic #my fic #señor avila

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

It was his father.

Of course.

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #mianmian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #right hand man

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stinkysam · 3 years

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Ryōmen Sukuna - Familiar face

Warning : death and blood mention

Genre : fluff-ish

Synopsis : mix of my own idea + "scenario based off of this image" - @xweirdo101x

Reader : male (he/him)

A/N : part 2 (feast)

His eyes twitched when he saw you for the first time through Itadori's eyes but he thought nothing of it, quickly brushing it off. Whatever it was, this was his vessel's fault.

But it happened again. And again. And again. Each time you appeared Sukuna would find himself listening to you. His eyes never leaving your form, not even for a second.

His interest in you wasn't like the one he had on Fushiguro and it started to unnerve him. So just like how he tried to make Itadori spiral into despair by nagging at the young boy's insecurities, he would try to drive you out of his sight by insulting you.

But despite his best attempts it didn't seem to work as it motivated you to rile him up more by challenging him to come out or find better attacks.

While Itadori feared such things could happen, Sukuna slowly understood something. He wasn't listening to what you were saying, but how you spoke and what your voice sounded like. He wasn't looking at you to know what you were doing, but to remember who had worn a similar face. Even your cursed energy didn't feel new to him.

You were familiar. Which human had he killed that struck his mind ? He had killed so many over the time he forgot those he wanted to remember. Maybe you looked like the most entertaining person he fought against. Or the first person he killed.

If it was that, then he didn't care much, "Congratulations on your reincarnation, can't wait to kill you again." he thought, believing he was done with you.

"Take your time, my king" you said looking at the screen in front of you. Both Itadori and Kigisaki looked at you before focusing back on the movie playing, thinking you were just talking to the main character. It's true that the hero was taking his damn time to save the dying victim.

Laying on the ground, Sukuna's ears ticked at your words. Thinking you were challenging him, he got up only to finally understand what you were saying.

An eye appeared on Itadori's cheek to stare at you, thinking. Entirely and truly focused on you. Why does he feel like he got you wrong ?

It clicks after a few days, almost knocking the air out of his lungs as he realizes who you are. But he says nothing. It can't be you. Yet the more he thinks about it the more he wonders how he missed the hints. How did he not recognize your traits, your fighting pattern, the smell of your cursed energy, the way you move and present yourself, what your voice resonates with. You haven't changed one bit.

You're his man, and he'd be damned if he lets you go, even after a human lifetime with you.

In the blink of an eye you found yourself in another place, bones and skulls scattered around, feet soaked in water. Or was it blood ? There wasn't enough light for you to properly discern the colors. Knowing him, it might be both.

You turn toward the presence behind you, taking a few steps to close the gap. "I could have died of old age again with the time it took you to remember me." you say feigning annoyance.

He let out a light chuckle, pulling you closer to analyse you better. Long nails tickling your skin as he moved your face around to study it. He does not understand how you can look identical and totally different from your past self at the same time.

Though he didn't really think much about it, he somehow felt a little bit relieved that you didn't care about his very human form. But he would make sure to get his original form back, loving the fear it reflected in his victim's eyes, and wanting to give as much of himself to you as possible.

"If you die again, I won't wait this long."

"If ? Bet."

He scrunched his nose at your words for a second before pulling you in for a kiss, not liking how many years had passed since last time he had his lips on you.

#Male reader #jujustu kaisen #Jjk #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk x male reader #Ryōmen Sukuna #Ryomen Sukuna x male reader #m!reader

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amxranthiine · 3 years

Text

imagine being the ex-friend of the slytherin crew. [she/her] (no voldy bc ew)

had this thought at 3am last night while fangirling with my friend last night. sorry for any errors <3

angst, mentions of parents disowning child, blood prejudice, mention of childhood/forbidden crush

- [ ] you had known draco, blaise, theo, pansy, astoria and daphne since you were very young.

- [ ] since you all were two to be exact. your parents were close and your birthdays weren't too far apart, so it was only natural that you all became a crew growing up, anxiously waiting for your eleventh birthdays.

- [ ] you all were inseparable. you learned to fly together, talk together, walk together... hell, you had all learned you were wizards together.

- [ ] you were always closer to blaise than the rest of the crew. you were younger than him, though not by much, and he seemed protective over you. as inseparable the rest of you were, blaise couldn't go anywhere without you, and the same goes for you to him.

- [ ] how ecstatic you were when you all got your hogwarts letters! you were going to be in the same year and hopefully, probably, the same house!

- [ ] it was expected of you all to be in slytherin, all coming from very long lines of prestigious pureblood serpents.

- [ ] the other six were more than confident that they would all be in slytherin together. you? not so much.

- [ ] you were very nervous, to say the least. you didn't portray the slytherin traits as much as the others.

- [ ] and when pansy or blaise would try to reassure you that it would be fine, you couldn't help but wonder if they were trying to convince you or themselves.

- [ ] and because you didn't portray the serpent traits, that made them all extremely protective of you. blaise especially, draco and theo coming close in second, and the girls just wanted to make sure you were okay.

- [ ] but the moment the sorting hat yelled out a name that wasn't slytherin, everything stopped.

- [ ] your friendships with your lifelong friends, your crush on blaise (okay, that didn't go away), everything you grew up with just... disappeared.

- [ ] your now ex-friends wanted nothing to do with you, even your parents didn't want to speak to you. your housemates were cruel, jesting about how you were a stain on their house, and a snake deep down.

- [ ] it was safe to say you had no one.

- [ ] the crew started being mean to you somewhere around christmas of first year. before then, they had just ignored you. just like everyone else.

- [ ] after christmas though... they seemed to have a new hatred for you.

- [ ] especially blaise, which hurt the most. you swore you were seeing things when you thought you saw sadness somewhere in his eyes whenever he was rude to you.

- [ ] you were alone for the remainder of first year, and for the first two months of second.

- [ ] that's when you met luna, neville and ginny. you guys were thick as thieves, and for the first time for two years, you were actually happy.

- [ ] of course, your childhood friends were still mean to you, nothing had really changed on that part. but you were... happier, and that hurt them. because you happier without them, and that wasn't how it was supposed to be.

- [ ] they supposed they should be glad that you were doing better. last year, they were going mad out of worry for you. apparently you had stayed at hogwarts for christmas out of request from your parents, and it was christmas day when the adults told the rest of them to stop associating with you.

- [ ] it remained fairly passive over the next few years, you remained close with luna, neville and ginny, and had even befriended the golden trio and the twins!

- [ ] the serpent squad didn't like that too much, but they supposed your current friends were better than no friends, and as long as you were happy, they were happy

- [ ] but they still continue their kind-of bullying. they weren't as cruel to you as they were to others, but words still hurt and boy do they have a snake's tongue on them.

- [ ] blaise could hardly stand being away from you but his mother had made him swear that he would not associate with you, the blood traitor.

- [ ] all he wanted to do was hold you, but he rather bullied you instead.

- [ ] it was the beginning of sixth year when draco and pansy had gone too far. the other four were just watching blankly, trying not to let their discomfort show as the two reprimanded you, mocked you, and insulted you in the middle of the great hall. calling you a blood traitor, a stain of your family name and house name, and even going as far as saying "no wonder your parents don't want you, just look at you!" while the all the slytherins around them laughed. or at least, pretended to.

- [ ] you had looked at them for a long time, teary eyed and red faced, just trying to understand what you did to deserve this. until you nodded your head, said "okay," and walked out of the great hall.

- [ ] they heard your friends call your name, your closest ones even running after you.

- [ ] theo and blaise looked like they were about to beat draco to death, astoria and daphne were just disappointed in pansy, they knew how much she missed you, and yet she ruined any chance of you forgiving them.

- [ ] blaise eventually decided against killing the blonde and ran after you, the rest following suit after a moment.

- [ ] it didn't take them long to find you, sobbing against a wall with your head in your hands, ginny, nev and luna all crowded around you. rubbing your back and whispering reassurances in your ear.

- [ ] "i don't know what i did to deserve that," you cried, sniffling as you wiped your nose on your sleeve and looked and ginny.

- [ ] "oh love, you didn't do anything," the ginger said, wrapping her arms around you.

- [ ] "don't listen to them, y/n! they're just prats!" assured nev, leaning against the wall awkwardly, with one hand on your back.

- [ ] luna played with your hair, "yeah, y/n, they don't deserve your love and kindness."

- [ ] "thank you guys. i mean it. without you three i don't know where i would be." you laughed, but no part of it was humorous.

- [ ] draco, being the blonde he was, decided it was a good time to intervene, "hopefully alive, haha."

- [ ] the six of them had come out from around the corner, feeling ashamed and wanting to hit themselves for making you cry.

- [ ] "what do you lot wanf? haven't you done enough?" asked ginny, placing herself in front of you.

- [ ] "yes but.."

- [ ] "no, you don't get to talk. now piss off before you do even more damage."

- [ ] "we just want to apologize," said blaise.

- [ ] you scoffed, "a bit late for that."

- [ ] pansy looked down, "we're really sorry, y/n, for what just happened and for everything the past six years. you know how our families are and they told us to stop talking to you... so we did."

- [ ] all feelings of sadness were gone now, pansy's words has ignited a flame within you, one you've been holding in for years.

- [ ] "stop talking to me? so that gave you permission to be bloody awful to me? merlin's beard, you six were worse than umbridge on her bad days! you could have just... i don't know, explained what happened in first year? and apologized for abandoning me? and maybe we could still be friends! but no, you lot ruined any chance of that ever happening again. so thank you for that." you paused to take a breath. your audience was wide eyed and shocked, not quite believing you had such anger in you... but oh man, you weren't done yet.

- [ ] "and let me just say, blaise, your insults hurt the most. merlin, i thought the world of you. i thought you were my everything. but that all just went away the moment you thought not associating with me, meant making my life a living hell."

- [ ] you were, once again, crying. you took a deep breath and sadness took over you once again, you mumbled an "excuse me" and took off down the corrider.

- [ ] the serpent squad was stunned. they hadn't realised what they did effected you that much. blaise was upset with himself, disappointed, even. he felt the same about you, even if you both were too young for it to be love, and now he knew he never get it pack.

- [ ] theo cleared his throat and tried looking anywhere but at the trio in front of them, who were looking at the six with anger and disappointment.

- [ ] "you guys couldn't even begin to understand what she's been through," neville said after moments of awkward silence. "not long after the sorting ceremory, her parents sent her a letter, practically disowning her. before that, you guys abandoned her. she was alone for nearly a year and a half before we met her. and by merlin she was a wreck."

- [ ] ginny and luna chuckled, not out of humor, but out of irony. this situation was similar to the situation you were in when you met them.

- [ ] neville ignored them, and the curious stares the six were giving him, and continued, this time fueled by anger.

- [ ] "we were the ones who picked up the pieces. we were the ones who made sure she didn't die after losing everything she had ever known. we were the ones who made her smile again, happy again. we picked up the pieces because you weren't there, and you were exactly what had caused it in the first place." neville spit out the last sentence as if it were venom, hoping to hurt them as much as they hurt you.

- [ ] they were all on the verge of tears, daphne and astoria were holding each other and looked to be in the most pain, because they missed you the most.

- [ ] "i hope you lot are happy with yourselves, you're about five years to late to the pity party."

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

if i can send another request: uh how about reader is a helper in marcus moreno's house and she thinks her feelings are unrequited bc she helps marcus get ready to go on a date. And then she has to look over missy while hes on the date and missy is like: u like him right. And reader is like: no way thats unprofessional. And missy looks at her like really? And finally reader caves and says yeah i like you. And at the very end marcus ends up confessing he does like reader and it ends happy? 😭😭

I love 1 (one) crime fighting hero/tired dad. This got real soft, enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x fem!reader; warnings: slight language

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Thanks for doing this," Marcus' voice is soft as he calls to you from his bedroom. You remind yourself of the current situation and plaster on the best smile you could muster up. But you weren't fooling yourself - or Missy for that matter. She rolled her eyes as she passed by and headed to the kitchen table to start homework; she had a lot to say but it could wait for now.

"Its no problem, Marcus," you promised through slightly gritted teeth as you reminded yourself that you had no reason to be jealous - no reason to have feelings other than friendly for your closest friend.

"C-can you help me real quick?" there was an almost nervous quality to his voice as you made a small sound of confirmation before pushing open the door to his bedroom. Your jaw almost dropped sight; Marcus was standing in front of his mirror, looking more handsome than anyone should have legally been allowed to.

Opting to stick with his love of black on black, he was sporting a pair of well fitting black trousers and a black button that displayed the muscles of his back whenever he moved. You barely caught yourself when you realized he was holding two ties in his hand and displayed them to you.

Flitting over to him, you took both options and shook your head, tossing them into the bed. He didn't say anything but raised a brow in amusement, "no tie. Just what you have on is fine. The black on black is an excellent choice."

"Yeah?" he asked as a nervous smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, "its not too...depressing?"

"Not at all, its very se- you look good Marcus," you promised him as he let out a nervous huff of laughter, "she's going a lucky lady, and she's going to love you."

"Hmm," he mused for a moment, turning his gaze to you in the mirror and trying to read your expression. You quickly dropped your eyes, not sure if you were quite ready to cross that bridge just yet - or ever. His hands went to the top buttons and he quickly undid a few, exposing the smallest amounts of golden skin, "listen, I-"

"I should go and help Missy with her homework," you quickly cut him off before anything else could happen or heavens forbid you confessed your undying love then and there, "and you finish getting ready, mister!"

Before anything else could be said, you darted out of his room and towards the kitchen where Missy was pretending to be engrossed in a book. You knew she was keen on getting as much information as possible and had not doubt been trying to listen in. She closed her book as you took a seat next to her and offered her a small smile.

"How does pizza sound for dinner? We can even go crazy and get ice cream for dessert," you suggested and despite her attempt at a serious look her eyes lit up with excitement as she nodded, "don't worry, we won't tell your dad. It'll be our secret."

"Alright ladies," Marcus came out of the bedroom now sporting that damned leather jacket that made you weak in the knees on top of it all. It was the glasses, perched smartly on his nose that set you off though. How could one man look so good? Practically unfair. Missy nudged your leg to snap out of your little daydream as you caught yourself, "I'm headed off. I won't be back too late. Missy, I want all your homework done and bed at a reasonable hour."

"Fine dad," she groaned as she pulled her folder out of her background with the day's homework.

"And you," he turn his attention back to you as you felt a flush of warmth wash over your face, "are an absolute angel. I don't know what I'd do without you. I owe you big time."

"Don't worry about a thing," you insisted as you motioned your head towards the door, "now go and have fun, Marcus. You deserve it."

"Thanks," there was that stupid, silly, soft smile on his face again, "see you tonight."

With a small wave, he was off on his date. There was a soft tugging on your heart and the back of your eyes burned ever so slightly. You took a breath to collect yourself and decided to ignore it all. It didn't matter anyways, Marcus was going on a date with not you, and whoever she was, she would undoubtedly fall in love with him. It was Marcus Moreno, after all, who wouldn't fall in love?

Missy watched you silently for a few moments before deciding not to bring anything up...not just yet anyway.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You should tell him you know,” Missy said through a mouthful of ice cream - chocolate chip cookie dough with lots of brownie and fudge, her all time favorite. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you tried to figure out what she could possibly mean. Your stomach churned at the realization, “my dad - you should tell him you like him.”

“W-why would I do that?” you stammered nervously as you tried to keep your face neutral. Missy groaned at your vain attempt as it become very obvious that the young girl knew exactly how you felt, “Missy, I can’t do that. He doesn’t...he couldn’t possibly ever feel the same way.”

“Why not?” she asked as she possibly off her bowl before setting down on the coffee back and pausing the movie you’d been watching, “you and dad both like each other! You might as well tell each other and get it over with. Besides, you’re a million times better than whatever her name is that he’s on a date with.”

“How could you possibly know that?” you laughed lightly at her fervent insistence, the words that he liked you too not lost on you at all.

“Because she’s not you,” she insisted, “and dad really likes you. He’s just...too awkward sometimes. I know he just doesn’t want to mess anything up. But I’m telling you, you both need to stop being fools and tell each other you’re in love!”

“Alright, little Missy,” you groaned lightly as she smiled triumphantly - she had you hook, line, and sinker, “time for bed, it’s late anyways. Go brush your teeth and get changed. I’ll check on you in a little bit.”

“Fine,” she sighed heavily, a trait definitely inherited from Marcus, “but you know I’m right! Tell him!”

You were about to make a smart retort as you watched her giggling form disappear up the stairs but decided against. Apparently all the times you thought you were subtle about your affections towards Marcus, you were being anything but.

Shit, shit, shit. Hopefully he’d never noticed. He was a Heroic, you reminded yourself, of course he knew. But he’d never said anything, never treated you oddly...maybe he didn’t know after all. Maybe this was one of the things he was blind to. Yeah...that was surely it. Besides, why would someone like him ever like you? You were just you and he was...everything.

You’d been so lost in your conversation with Missy and now your own thoughts that you’d had heard the front door open and close. You hadn’t noticed as Marcus slowly made his way into the kitchen and overheard everything. But Missy did - she was his daughter after all, and her little scheme played out exactly out she had planned.

Sighing, you stood up and stretched, still unawares of the eyes glued to you. Marcus smiled at the little sound you made, his own heart thumping nervously as he realized what he needed to do. His date had ended early - his decision -and it hadn’t been particularly fun. His date had been nice, pretty, kind, but at the end of it all, she wasn’t you. That’s what he had wanted. Enough with the skirting around the issue - he was finally going to tell you how he felt.

Scooping the dirty bowls up, you tried to figure out just how you were going to tell Marcus about your feelings. Missy wouldn’t drop it, you knew she wouldn’t. You could just get straight out with it - direct and to the point and lay all the cards on the table.

Or was that too direct? Should you hint some more; although that hadn’t gotten you very far either....fuck. Nope you were just going to have to do it once and for all.

“Marcus - I’m in love with you,” you tested the words out to yourself to see how they would sound. Your voice was a small, soft thing, but you couldn’t deny that you liked how they sounded. Deciding that it would just take some practice to get yourself ready to say the words to him, you repeated the words, “I love you, I love you, I love you. Marcus Moreno - I am in love with you.”

As you flipped on the kitchen light, you let out a small scream and almost dropped the bowls in your hands as you finally spotted Marcus. He was quick to your side and took the bowls from you, setting them back on the counter and offering you a sheepish, but soft expression. Nothing but horror washed over you as quickly came to the conclusion that he must have heard everything single thing you’d said.

“M-Marcus,” you fumbled over your words as he watched you with a soft expression, “I-I-I didn’t hear you come in, didn’t know you were back. I was just umm...playing around. Missy, she umm, I didn’t...ughh...Oh...this is...I didn’t mean it?”

“I got back a little bit ago,” he confessed as you hid your face in his hands; yeah, he’d heard everything, “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Listen, Marcus, I didn’t mean it, it’s just...Missy thinks that we’re in love or something, and I was just messing around...” it might have been the weakest lie you’d ever told and the look on his face said that he didn’t believe a word of it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think...he was happy, “wait - you’re back? I didn’t expect you for another hour or so.”

“Left earlier than expected,” he admitted as he tried to still the wild beating of his own heart. He took a step closer and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to not completely lose the remaining grips on reality you had, “wasn’t quite feeling it.”

“Oh?” you asked softly as he shrugged lightly, “w-what happened?”

“She wasn’t you,” he echoed Missy’s words from earlier as an involuntary smile crossed your features. Holy shit - was this actually happening? No, no, no, this must be all a dream, “I should have asked you to dinner. A long time ago actually. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess Missy’s right, I’m just an awkward uncool dad.”

“Me?” you pointed at yourself as he laughed lightly and nodded, “why on earth would you ask me?”

“Why would I...I thought it was kind of obvious by now?” he tilted his head to the side as you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, “I mean, Missy pretty much spilled the beans...”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you looked at him nervously, still refusing to believe that this was actually happening, “you like me? Me?”

Then he whispered your name, so softly, so reverently, so gently before reaching over and putting his hand gently on your cheek, “I’m in love with you.”

“Me,” you didn’t bother to try and hide your smile as he nodded, “I....yeah. Me too. Obviously. She’d been pushing me to tell you, but I didn’t want to...”

“Mess anything up?” he finished for you as you nodded, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in, “me neither.”

“Sooo...” you trailed off and flicked your eyes back his, admiring the way the soft brown orbs stared back into your, crinkling in the corners as his dimple was on display, “ummm...I should...I should go since you’re back.”

“Is that really what you want?” he teased as you shook your head before laughing, “do you know what I want?”

“Ummm.... no?”

“I really, kind of want to kiss you,” he admitted as your heart blossomed with joy at his gentle words, “if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip lightly, “I want that too.”

And then it happened, easily, fluidly, almost like you’d both been doing it forever. His hands found your waist as you tugged you close, your arms snaking around his neck as you leaned up to meet his kiss, His lips were plush and soft, and even better than you could ever have dreamed. It wasn’t some rough and brash tangle of teeth, with either of you fighting for dominance; no, this was slow and easy, intimate to its core and filled with nothing but longing and desire.

This was exactly what you’d always envisioned.

“It’s about time,” the two of you slowly pulled apart at the sound of her voice as you tried to find Missy peeking at the two of you from the foot of the stairs, “I told you both!”

Before either of you could say anything else, she darted upstairs and back to her bedroom, slamming the two shut as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He chased your lips with his own, giving you a few more soft pecks before you grinned at each other like fools in love which, you supposed, you were.

“She’s too smart for her own good sometimes,” he sighed lightly as you touched his cheek, “but I’ll let this one slide.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh honey,” he whispered before kissing you again - it was already something he never wanted to stop doing now that he’d had a taste, “what were you saying about having to leave?”

“I don’t remember,” you teased with a kiss to his cheek.

“Stay?” he asked softly; it was a question that held a lot more meaning than just one night, or something temporary. You both knew exactly what it meant.

“Yes,” you promised, “I’ll stay.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #wcbh #we can be heroes #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

abshwvshsh imagine Paladin Danse with Baby Fever.

Got alittle drabble?

*I got like an idea where Paladin Danse and Alex(fallout oc) go on a mission and end up finding an orphan baby and as Alex is taking care of it, Paladin Danse is like 😍😍🤩🤩. So yea lol.*

(I totally deviated from the prompt but I was hoping this would be satisfactory as well? 😅 if not, I'm more than happy to write for the original prompt, just send me another ask)

Perhaps this feeling was simply a product of the desertion he felt after exile.

You were so very kind to him. You were there for him when he had hit the lowest point fathomable, when his life as he knew it was ripped away from him and left him with this deep melancholic emptiness. It took time, of course, but like always- you were patient with him, truly there for him.

If asked, Danse wouldn't know exactly how you did it, but piece after piece you managed to put back together what he once felt was broken beyond repair. Maybe it was the way you valiantly fought to reassure his life's value, maybe it was the long days you spent at his side so he may not feel lonesome, but most likely it was the love you professed that let him know that if someone as wonderful as you could have such profound feelings for something like him...then yes, maybe he was truly worth more than he believed.

Nonetheless, there were still some times that Danse would sit in your cozy little home, a far off look in his eyes as he thought deeply about something you just couldn't quite put your finger on. Once, you would've been able to just look at him and know what troubled him- a trait he didn't care for in the slightest- but lately...he wasn't quite as easy to read.

His identity would forever be something he struggled with no matter how much progress the two of you made, this you knew and understood, but whatever was on his mind as of recent didn't seem to have the same effect. For instance, these moments you'd catch him in..he wouldn't look nearly as tense, which may be a fruitless observation to note- but hey, every little detail meant something with Danse. In addition to this, the proud ex-paladin would usually seek your comfort if his mind raced to such dark places and now he would only sit in silence.

Instead you were left puzzled, watching the man you love sit and continue on with his mental strife- only moving every so often to fidget with the glistening metallic band on his left ring finger.

You never would've guessed that the reason he was so deep in though stemmed from the child sitting on your kitchen counter, eating one of Danse's prized snack cakes with Shaun. The child happened to be one of the settler's kids, a little girl around six years of age- so far too young to help out in the farm, and too young to leave unattended..so naturally, with you being the bleeding heart you are, you agreed to help out the girl's parents and watch her every so often while they worked. Besides, after your marriage to Danse..and Shaun coming home, there wasn't very much adventuring going on anymore. It wasn't a big deal though, Shaun rather liked having company (even if he preferred hanging out with Duncan more) and having a younger child around didn't bother you in the slightest.

Unbeknownst to you, watching the way you cared for the two children really struck a nerve within Danse. It was almost enchanting to watch you fuss after them, leading his mind to wander off to the most fantastical places.

"Okay, Shaun, do you think you can handle taking her back home? Her ma and pa should be finished working out in the field by now. I'll send Dogmeat with you." You spoke, receiving a rather exasperated expression from your little boy as he gracelessly slid off the counter, feet landing with a soft *thud*.

He proceeded to hold a hand out to his much shorter, younger friend to help her down. "No problem mom..." He all but grumbled as he began to lead her out the side door. A blur of brown and black fur at your feet let you know your faithful companion was at attention and ready to escort the two children- a happy bark followed by the closing of the door eased your mind shortly thereafter.

Had it been anywhere else, you probably wouldn't have let Shaun leave without you or Danse..but given that the girl's parents lived two doors down- you didn't really worry. However, you DID worry about the ex-paladin.

With a casual sigh, you sauntered your way into the living room- only a little surprised when you realized your entrance hadn't done much to catch his attention. Regardless, you pushed on and decided to sit right beside him- smiling just the slightest bit whenever his gaze finally shifted away from his wedding band and to you instead.

"Alright." You began, making no qualms about scotching closer over to him until he instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "What's eating at you?" You simply prodded, head resting on his chest.

Danse visibly stiffened, as though under the impression that his silence went unnoticed. He couldn't have been more wrong- he knew better than to think anything would get passed you. Even if it had, the thrumming of his synthetic heart against your ear surely gave him away.

Before he dignified your question with a response, he shifted around so that he could properly face you- still holding you yet able to move his head in such a way that he might be able to see the way you'd react completely to what his next words were going to be. And…maybe to get your attention away from the heavy beating in his chest.

That's really when you noticed it. The fleeting look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breath, the slight pink shade decorating his nose and cheeks..Danse was nervous.

"This..I apologize but this going to seem completely out of the blue.." He finally spoke, sighing as he closed his eyes just for a brief moment- trying to collect himself so that his nerves might not get the best of him. This is a matter that he had been wrestling with for some time now, the last thing he wanted was to get so anxious that he couldn't speak.

Alas, calming down seemed to only get harder for him. True, it had only been a few seconds since he spoke but the way you looked at him, so concerned and so..sweet, made time slow down and his damned heart incomprehensibly race.

"Whatever it is Danse, I've got you.." Great- now that concern he picked up on was lacing your voice as well.

Was it truly necessary for him to complicate things to such extremes? It's not like the topic was completely alien to either one of you..and damnit, you're the one person he felt he could speak his mind freely to..so why wasn't this any easier?

Then came the words you never, ever, ever, would've expected to hear from his mouth.

With his eyes soft, and his voice even more so, Danse spoke. "I know we have Shaun, and don't get me wrong- I truly do love the boy as a son, my son...but have you ever considered what having a child of our own would be like?" It was in that instant that Danse realized how abrupt his words may have came out, that tender gaze of his slowly retreating to look anywhere but you. "Forgive me, it's um..it's selfish of me to anticipate you being ready for such a thing, especially considering what we have both went through this past year.."

Unable to focus on much else but the drumming noise inside your head from the profound beat of your heart, your trembling hands grabbed at his and squeezed.

"You know..you have a bad habit of cutting me off before I can tell you what I think, sir." You laughed, trying to distract from the tears threatening to well up. Sure, it may have been a slight over reaction but..with Danse wanting a family..it was one hell of a step in a good direction. "What happened in the past..well, it should stay there. The two of us have something most people never get, we have the ability to start anew and leave our troubles behind us, Danse. So...god, I don't think much else would make me happier than having a baby with you.."

Once the ex-Paladin got over the initial shock of your words, he all but mauled you in a breath-stealing kiss- his arms wrapping tightly around you to the point of making the promise of breath a distant memory. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but enthusiastically kiss the man back...at least until-

"MOM! Gross!!" Shaun shrieked, having opened the door at quite possibly the least opportune time. Great.

Danse pulled back with a shameful blush on his face, averting his eyes from the young boy who was now fake gagging as he walked off to his room.

“Guess we oughta see if Mac is up for letting Shaun stay over with Duncan..hm? You know, just to get a head start..” to this, the ex-paladin’s adorable blush deepened tenfold.

Fantastic....or rather...outstanding.

#so this was no small drabble #ayyyyy #I love him so much #fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #paladin danse x sosu #paladin danse x reader #Danse

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

We need more Time and Wild bonding

For you, Anon! And also for @1142 who requested the same thing!

Summary: Time sees his family, friends and other loved ones in his boys, but Wild especially is reminding him of himself this morning, and he wants to offer some encouragement to the poor kid.

youtube

It's quiet to read alone, listen to this!

Epona’s song drifted through the cool morning air.

The sound brought a smile to Time’s lips as he snuggled closer to the warmth pressed beside him, breathing in the clean morning air and tugging the blanket up higher on his shoulder.

He really didn’t want to wake up.

Although, he didn’t remember opening the bedroom window last-

Wait. They weren’t on the farm! They’d gone to sleep in the forest last night! There was no window to leave open, and no Malon singing or lying beside him. He shoots awake, pulling himself up with the intent of looking around camp, only to have something pull him back down towards the ground.

Looking down, he feels his scarred heart melt. Twilight twitches in his sleep, arms locking around his shoulders, sleepily groans sounding as the lad hangs off him, cold nose pressed to his neck. Tiny, whuffling snores sound from his pup as the younger man nuzzles closer, and he can only chuckle softly and rub his protégé's back lightly as he settled back down to let Twilight sleep.

He is curious who had been singing though.

A single blue eye takes in the camp as he props himself up slightly on his bedroll, careful not to disturb Twilight as he takes in where each of his boys lay.

Legend and Hyrule lay curled into each other, Legend clinging to his protégé while Hyrule’s hands lay buried in his mentor’s silky hair, a smile on the face of the younger and drool on the face of the elder*. Warriors lies close by, sprawled across his bedroll and snoring fit to wake the dead, utterly content and comfortable in the safety of his brothers and proving it with his noise. Opposite the three, Wind and Sky curl close, Sky’s sailcloth and their blankets thrown over the two leaving only Four’s left foot visible from between them.

His pup curls close to his side, one leg thrown over his waist and arms locked tight around his shoulders, holding him in place and preventing him from rising, but the bedroll on his left...

Epona’s song continues to dance through the camp, and Time’s single eye finally falls on Wild, the cook busily scrubbing out his favorite cooking pot on the very edge of camp, the familiar tune dancing off of the young one’s lips, suds rising halfway up his arms and hair thrown back in a messy bun that reminds Time strongly of Lullaby’s own hair when the woman loses patience with it. Decorum be shot, the queen will throw her own hair back with a simple hair tie in front of the whole court, ignoring how it makes her appear and continuing her duties without hair hanging in her face and her neck free from the oppressing heat of its constant curtain.

If ever he doubted that Lullaby and Shiek were the same person, each time he sees his princess behave in such a way, he’s reminded that, different time lines or no, there is still the same fiery spirit and passion for change in his friend that there had always been, and it is something he is happy to see reflected in some of his boys, along with Malon’s stubborn personality and incredible strength and kindness.

Maybe he is looking for the traits of those dearest to his heart in the boys that had pushed their way in. Be it by force or by accident as the hero might be, but it brings him no small joy to see Lullaby in Legend’s sharp glares or in Warriors’ brisk manner when planning. In Hyrule’s swift fingers or Wild’s sharp and calculating eyes. To see her in Four’s dark eyes, always thoughtful, always knowing, or in Sky’s burning passion.

It’s a wonder to see Malon in Wind’s boisterous cheer, and in Twilight’s rolling laughter. To see his wife’s mischief reflected in Wild’s luminescent gaze or her love of life in the way Legend cares for his orchard and animal friends. And the glimpse of unbelievable strength in Four’s easy lifting of weapons as big as himself, or the echo of her in the firm set of Warriors’ shoulders always makes him smile to himself.

There are others at times. Saria in Hyrule’s smile. Kafai in Wild’s laugh. Romani in Wind’s eccentric ideas, Nabooru in Legend’s firm stance and heavily lidded gaze, Navi in Sky’s light scolding and Tatl in Four’s acerbic wit. Glimpses of home and family echo around him, pulling close what reflected it and making them home and safety themselves. And over it all he can hear the winding of tunes that both tore apart and hold together the memories of his youth.

And now, one such tune, one especially close to his heart, one meant only for the Lon family and their famous steeds, dances over the edges of the camp and past the ears of the sleeping heroes as Wild lifts his cooking pot and carries it over to the fire, singing softly with faint and muddled words, many of them wrong, mumbled or tripped over, but sung all the same as food winks into being from the champion’s slate.

“-ne-ver far from home. Epona, Epona, can you hear hmm hmm, singing from in my heart, hmm-hmm-hmm.” Mumbled hums break the words as the champion works over the fire, measuring and stirring. “Something if you’re wandering far away hmm-hmm, listen for this melody calling you! Re-mem-ber that you have something-or-other to complete! I trust hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hm!”

The muddled version of the song makes him chuckle softly, startling the younger hero into spinning around, the spoon that Sky carved him brandished like a weapon as the champion prepares to defend himself against whatever he thinks may have startled him. Face beet red and growing redder.

“You have a nice singing voice.”

Wild looks instants away from combusting on the spot. “hOW- How long were you awake?” Gone are the stumbling yet melodious trills of the cook’s voice, instead replaced with a panicked squeak only made worse by his age.

It was like the first time he’d successfully startled Shiek, both of them both still so young that their voices broke under pressure, and the thought makes him smile as he meets the startled child’s gaze.

“Long enough.”

Wild’s ears droop, quivering with shame and embarrassment as the kid’s shoulders hunch up to brush against them, eyes darting down and refusing to meet Time’s as boot scuffs the dirt softly. “I thought you guys- that is- I thought it was-” Cornflower blue glances up, meeting his own for only a second before darting away again. “I thought it was safe.”

Safe? What does the cub- Understanding dawns and he finds himself chuckling low and soft. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“It’s not that.” The champion whispers. “I just- I don’t like people...hearing.”

Oh.

Also familiar, also so very familiar. Only this time he doesn’t see his wife or sisters and brothers, or mother or friends in the flushed face of the hero before him.

A squeaky voiced young hero, who’d pulled his cap over his face more times than anyone would guess when looking at his scarred face now, had time and again been encouraged by a darting blue fairy.

“You’ve got a lovely voice Link. No shame, come on!”

Of course, fairies always like hero their Chosen sing, but Time himself had, admittedly, stumbled over notes and keys nearly as badly as his pup still does, but he’d lacked any of Twilight’s playful self-confidence to be able to own up to the harsh squeaks and shrieking chirps that erupted out of him whenever someone else tried to get him to sing, or caught him singing.

He was fine, when Navi was fast asleep or the Kolkiri were half a forest away, or when it had just been himself and Epona, trailing through the dark woods in search of a light he’d have given anything to hear encouraging him to keep trying to raise his voice. It’d been the first time he’d really tried to Sing for his fairy, but it hadn’t done anything but tempt over two fairies who already had their own Chosen, a skullkid who’d pulled him along into a world where his voice had hidden with his face behind mask after mask.

It took Malon catching him singing while at work in the barn before he’d been able to et the guts up to actually try for her, but it’d been worth it when he hadn’t had to fumble with fancy words to ask her to marry him, not when there was a song and a dance just for that that he’d learned for Kafai while in Termina. Malon made his heart sing, but she also made him sing, and while her voice far outdid his own, it always made him happy to hear the two ringing together.

He’d once hoped, once he found out, that he’d one day hear Twilight’s voice rise up with theirs on some starlit evening, but after hearing his pup sing...

He loves Twilight like a son, but heaven forbid he ever force his wife to listen to that tone deaf mess!

Wild though, oh, Malon would love to tempt Wild into singing and guide him along until his voice could ring with hers. The child had the voice of a fairy, ethereal and inhuman, but in a way that made him feel light and airy and almost like he could fly.

“Well...” He wants very much to stand and walk over to Wild, but he was still trapped and Twilight was both a brick and incredibly strong, leaving him trapped until his pup is good and ready to wake up, something he fully believed Wild would prefer to prevent happening for the time being. “I can’t not hear it, Wild.”

“Try?” The kid pleads, eyes wide and face nearly purple from embarrassment.

“It’d be an insult to whoever created the voice to do so!” The words spilled out before he could stop them. He was supposed to reassure the kid, not make him panic more by pressuring him! “That is- Wild, you have the voice of an... I suppose Legend would say “an angel” whatever those really are. To be frank, I wouldn’t choose to forget it if I could.”

“I’m not a good singer.”

“Bullshit.”

The newest hero’s gaze shoots up to meet his own, shock written across scarred features at hearing him swear. “You-”

“Don’t tell Warriors.” He whispers with a wink- blink- whatever, it was meant as a wink, and hopefully Wild would read it as one.

“You swore.” Wild breathes

“And you lied.” He returns. “You’re a good singer. Confident, maybe not, but I thought I heard Maon when I first woke up, and unless you want to tell me that my wife has a poor singing voise-”

“No! Of course not!”

“Settled then.” He smiled. “You’re a good singer.”

The champion stares at him, ears twitching slowly and eyes blinking as he processes the words, before a light scowl pulls at the kid’s scars as he crosses his arms. “It- no!” At the grin he shoots at the kid, Wild whines softly. “Dad!”

Both freeze at that. Or rather, Time blinks repeatedly, shocked, and Wild’s hands fly up to his mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

“I’m sorry!” Wild blurts out, still hiding behind his hands. “I slipped I-”

Laughter, deep and rumbling enough that Twilight is happy grumbling against him in response, sounds through the camp as Time throws his head back. He can’t stop it, but he will embrace it. This is the best morning he’s had in ages and Hylia have him if he doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it! “You’re fine, Cub. I’ve been called much worse than that more than once. Unless of course,” He grins at the young hero, brows pulling down in a mock stare, even if he can’t hold his smile back to be convincing. “You think I’d be a bad one?”

“No! You’re an awesome- You’re going to be-” Wild is somehow redder than he was before and he stomps his foot almost petulantly as he catches on to the laughter that still rumbles in Time’s chest. “Time!”

“I don’t mind.” He rumbles out, and more than anything he wants to walk over and ruffle the kids hair, or wrap him in a hug, but he’s trapped by Twilight, and instead can only lift his free arm in an offer that Wild hesitates to take. He’s almost considering lowering his arm and rescinding his invitation when the champion barrels into his side, face buried in his shoulder as Golden hair fills his vision.

“I hate you.”

“Such disrespect to your father.” Time scolds playfully, gently pinching Wild’s ear and making the champion giggle at the touch. “What will your Mamalon say?”

“Ma-” Wild sits up again, staring down at him in confusion. “Mamalon?”

His lips pull into a smile again, something he’s done more this morning than he has nearly all week. “Something Legend calls her, which I’m stealing because she and I both like it.”

The champion’s eyes trail down to where scarred fingers still tangle into his tunic. “Can I call her that too?”

“Well,” He chuckles. “If I’m your Father Time, I think it’s only fair she’s you Mamalon.” At Wild’s smile he smirks. “Ad she’ll be delighted to learn you already know the family song, if only in part. Her mother wrote that for her you know, and I’m sure she’d love to teach you the rest of it. She taught it to me after all, and I used to sing as poorly as Twilight!”

Wild’s mouth opens and closes a few times as a light blush colors the kid’s cheeks before he shyly nods. “I’d- I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” And breakfast or no, Time thinks the others can wait for a half of a minute to eat after waking up, because if Twilight’s going to pin him down than he’s going to return the favor with his other son.

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theglitterypages · 3 years

Text

Secret Life of Gojo Satoru 2

Part 1

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x fem! Reader

Summary: What is the worst thing that could happen if you left the twins with their father?

Word Count: 1000+

~~~~~~~

“I'll be back soon okay? Behave with Dada, understood?” the twins just nodded their head and kissed your cheeks, when you flicked your eyes upwards you met Gojo's blue ones. “You know that I would always find out if you'll be feeding them tons of chocolate. No chocolates, or else you'll be sleeping at your room in Jujutsu High.” Gojo felt like his heart stopped beating, he knew that you're not lying, if there is anything he has learned in this marriage it is the fact that you never spat empty threats.

The first time you threatened him like this, he ignored it and still bribed the kids with sweets and when you found out, he did slept at his room in Jujutsu High, Yaga was laughing his ass off when he found out and he even mocked him of how he was the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the community but in the house you are the ruler, Gojo didn't mind it, he loves you so dearly and your toughness made him fall for you.

Gojo has a sweet tooth, it is because he has to keep on eating sweets because of his technique and even if you have a sweet tooth as well you wouldn't want your kids to have too much sugar and you have to remind Gojo over and over again that he shouldn't give them too much sweets, they have to learn to eat nutritious food and Gojo being Gojo, he uses the sweets to bribe the kids, that's why you were forced to teach him a lesson by letting him sleep in jujutsu high, much to Yaga's amusement.

With a pale face he picked up the twins and smiled at you sweetly, “No sweets for the kids today, got it Mama.” he told you and you laughed before kissing him on his cheeks, you heard him whine about how you missed his lips but you just stuck your tongue out. “You can have all the kisses later, Satoru but if you feed them sweets you should just kiss the wall.” Gojo dramatically looked at you and shook his head, “Then just give me one kiss right now, I need motivation baby.” the twins looked at their father with disgusted faces and when you were about to lean in to kiss Gojo, Akira cupped your face and kissed you instead.

Gojo never felt so betrayed in his whole life. He was about to lean in to kiss you but Akihiro pushed his face away before leaning towards you.

“Aww babies, I love you. Come here Hiro, let Mama kiss you.” Hiro giggled and gave you a kiss and you giggled at the two, “Better luck next time, Satoru.” you winked at your husband and went out of your house and you swear you could hear Gojo's whines about the kiss that he didn't get but you just laughed it off.

---

“Dada! We're hungry!” The twins told their father as they got tired of running around the house, so far Gojo is being able to manage to take care of the two and he felt relieved that they're not throwing tantrums as of now.

He pat their heads and stood up, “Alright, Dada will cook for you two. But you guys should behave. I'll turn on the TV, watch some cartoons and let Dada do the work is that okay?” the twins nodded their head in excitement and sat at the carpet on the living room while holding their toys, before Gojo left the living room to went to the kitchen he saw the twins held each other's hand as they watch. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, he decided to silently take a picture so he could show you later.

The twins are fond of fried chicken that's why Gojo decided to fry some but as he waits for the chicken to get cooked he heard a loud crash and he ran to see what happened and he was frozen at what he saw.

“Dada! Hiro broke the vase because he threw the ball!” Gojo's jaw dropped when he saw the vase, Hiro was pouting and glaring at his sister saying that she's not suppose to say what happened. Gojo immediately picked them up and made them sat at the couch as he clean the broken pieces of the vase, after making sure that it was all taken care of he looked at the twins.

Gojo is not that strict as a parent, he believes that his children should be guided in what they do not to be controlled on what to do and if they made a mistake they should learn from their own failures. But that's not the case with three year olds.

“Hiro, look at Dada.” he sat at the front of the two and gave them a smile to reassure them that he's not mad. “That vase is not really important because we can buy another but if something happened to you or to your sister, Mama and I would be upset because you two are our most valuable treasure. You were planning to clean your mess and hide it to Dada weren't you?” Gojo asked his son.

Akihiro looked at his tiny hands and sniffed, “Sorry Dada.” he whispered and Gojo cupped his face gently to make him look up at him, “Just promise you won't keep any secrets from Dada and Mama. Also, don't fight with Akira alright? You two should protect each other do you understand?” Hiro nodded his head and looked at his sister, he hugged her and kissed her cheeks. “Sorry, Kira.” Gojo smiled and ruffled their hair before standing up.

“Don't worry about the vase, I'll be the one to explain to Mama. Watch TV and wait for me to finish cooking.” he kissed their foreheads and went back to kitchen, thank goodness the chicken didn't get burned.

----

When Gojo finished cooking, he called the twins to the kitchen and made them sat on their designated chairs before he placed down their foods. “After eating, we'll take a bath. You two smell bad.” Gojo lied and the twins glared at him. “No! You are smelly Dada! Mama said we smell good!” he laughed as he saw the twins' noses turned red in annoyance, it's a thing that the two inherited from you, the only difference is that your whole face gets red every time you're annoyed.

It was cute and he loves that the twins got that trait from you, “Kira, don't be messy.” Hiro reached for a tissue and wiped his sister's mouth while Gojo watched them with a smile plastered on his lips, he can't believe these kids are his, he's thankful that he found a woman who was strong enough to stay with him and gave him two angels, he couldn't ask for more.

“Kids, look at here. Dada will send Mama a picture.”

The twins smiled at the camera and Gojo chuckled before sending them to you with a caption. “Our 12 rounds that night are worth it babe, look at our angels.” he knows he'll receive a smack for that caption but he'll cross the bridge when he get there.

As he had said, he have to give the twins a bath and they are both excited to take a bath so it wasn't a tough job for Gojo, “Dada you stink! Shower already!” Akira pinched her nose and frowned at Gojo, Hiro laughed and also started teasing his father. “That's why Mama didn't kiss Dada he smells bad!” Hiro splashed water to Gojo and Gojo gasped.

“Young man, you want a fight?”

“Kira help!”

The twins ended up giving their father a bath, Gojo was all wet and the kids are not yet done so he told them to settle down so he could finish and take a bath on his own.

After that, Gojo took them in their room and dressed them, he put some baby powder in their back and when they were all done he took the box of toys from the top of the cabinet so the twins could play in their room. “Stay here while I shower alright? Shout for Dada if you need something.” The twins are too busy playing to give him attention that's why they just gave him a thumbs up, Gojo shook his head with a chuckle before he ran to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

----

Akihiro got bored playing his toys and he poked his sister's arm. “This is not fun, let's play other things.” Akira frowned but agreed to her brother, “What are we gonna play though?” Akihiro looked around the room and his gaze landed at the pillow, he was planning on throwing it to Akira and have a pillow fight but whe he got closer to the pillows, he saw the big bottle of baby powder, Akihiro waste no time and turn the lid befor squeezing it.

Akira's face was so white because of the powder, she wiped away the powder on her face before glaring at her brother, Hiro giggled and run away, Akira looked around to search for the other bottle of baby powder since she knew they have so many of that and when she successfully saw one she climb on the chair and reach for the baby powder placed on the table. She climbed down the chair and removed the seal before squeezing it towards her brother's direction.

The floor became slippery because of the powder, the twins are falling around the room but they didn't mind it, instead they giggled every time they fall and as they keep on going, they ran out of baby powder.

“Mine's empty now, let me get another one.” Hiro told his sister before he climbed at the same chair where his sister climbed and took two bottles of baby powder giving the other one to Kira.

Their war resumed and at the exact moment, Gojo just got out of the shower, he could hear their giggles and he was about to smile but as he sense the trouble, he immediately ran and his knees almost gave in when he saw that the whole room is covered by powder.

“DADA!”

Gojo had to drop his infinity when the twins charged themselves towards him, the next thing he knew his face was now full of powder, the twins' giggles filled his ears and Gojo decided to laugh it off. “We're all so dead.” he wiped his face and looked at his children, being a mischievous dad that he is, he wiped his hands on their faces and the twin ran away from him.

The three of them ran inside the room, slipping from time to time, when Gojo finally caught the twins he carried them and shook them as an attempt to get rid of the powders, “Wow Dada is so strong!” Akihiro giggled while Kira held onto her Dad tightly, “Enough, enough, Dada too high, too high.” Gojo put them down in front of a full length mirror and he sat in between them, “Look at our faces. You think Mama will still love us?” the twins giggled and nodded their heads.

When you got inside the house the first thing you heard were giggles, as you follow the voices you stopped on the room of the twins and when you opened it you saw Gojo and the twins trying to get rid of the evidences of their mess.

Gojo's hair has never been whiter, he's not wearing any shirt and his whole body is full of baby powder. The twins? They're worse than that to the point that you couldn't even describe their apperances in words.

“Gojo Satoru.” you called your husband, your voice stern and your stare was blank.

And at that moment, Gojo knows that he fucked up.

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

Fathers Do Cry (DMC Vergil one shot)

Summary: Vergil remembers his last Father's Day with Sparda and doesn't really realise how similar to him he has become.

Tags: Father's Day special / DADGIL! / Vergil acting like a dad to Nero

Author’s note: I woke up this morning suddenly inspired. Doesn't happen very often so enjoy ;) ps: I just love Dadgil!

***

His big blue eyes staring without blinking, the child was observing his father sitting by the fireplace in the parlour. Full of admiration, he was detailing all the features of his serious face, all the details of his confident posture and all the different luxurious fabrics that made his purple finery and as he did, he repeated to himself, wished, prayed, that someday, one day, he would grow up to be just like him. “Aren’t you going to speak, Vergil?” The father’s powerful voice asked as he finally acknowledged the boy’s presence with a small amused smile, wondering what brilliant thoughts were occupying his eldest son’s sharp mind this time. “I made this for you, father.” With a solemnity that didn’t suit a five-years-old but that somehow fitted Vergil’s young yet wise spirit and his will to be perfect son in the eyes of Sparda, the boy handed a paper sheet to his father. “ And what would that be?” The man said as he took his son’s gift. “It’s father’s day so … I made you a poem… or tried to.” The adorable embarrassment tensing the child’s traits in funny grimaces made the father's smile wider but Vergil, suddenly too preoccupied with the blue paint stuck under his fingernails, didn’t notice it as he didn’t notice the paternal pride and the love shining in his eyes. “I thought your mother wanted you and your brother to make a gift together this year.” “ You know Dante” Vergil sighed. “He has no artistic talent whatsoever. He wanted to make you a wooden sword to play with us.” “ That’s actually a very good idea.” Vergil frowned; suddenly worried that Sparda would not like his gift and preferred Dante’s – if he had made one of course. “Except when the sword looks like two twigs glued together. You should have seen this, father. It looked ri.di.cu.lous.” Sparda laughed at his son’s attitude, finding amusement in this sibling rivalry. “Why don’t you read me your poem then?” “ I learnt it by heart actually. The paper is for you to remember this day by … and also because I wanted to illustrate it. Look.” Vergil approached his father, seized the poem from his big hands and climbed on his lap to show him the delicate aquarelle he had painted around the lines. “Impressive. Did your mother help you with this?” Vergil shook his head. “No, I did it on my own. I used a book I saw in that old man’s house I often go to as a reference.” “ The old academic that lives down the hill? I thought you found him boring.” Vergil shook his head again, furiously this time and with a serious frown. “That’s Dante. Me, I really like him. He teaches me a lot of things. And he has lots of books. It’s incredible.”

Sparda ruffled his son’s silver hair whose hairdo was always made in order to somehow mimic his, thinking what a promising young boy Vergil was. Maybe more promising than Dante to be honest – though he knew he shouldn’t think that. But there was something that Vergil had that Dante lacked. Perhaps rationality beyond his age … or some kind of maturity … wisdom maybe? He couldn’t really pinpoint what it was exactly. All he knew is that it was something unique and special, just like his son, something that made Sparda certain that one day his eldest would grow up to be a great man, a man greater than him, a man worthy of the Yamato and capable of handling its burdening power.

“Can I recite my poem now?” Sparda smiled at the sparkle in Vergil’s eyes. “Sure.” The boy quickly took back his previous position in front his father, cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest.

Sparda listened to every word, fascinated and amazed by his little one’s talent and profoundly moved by all the love, all the meticulousness and the time he put in each line and in each word. “Oh Vergil. The world is not yet ready for someone like you.” The father said as he let a tear roll down his cheek. “Why are you crying, father?” Vergil worried. “Because fathers cry, my son.”

That day was the last time Vergil truly celebrated Father’s day for a few weeks later he had no father, no one to make poems to, no one to admire by the fireplace. Just a memory that he feared would sooner or later fade but that he would cling to dearly for as long as he could.

“Why don’t we bring flowers to Daddy’s statue in the park today?” Eva asked when Vergil was six, when Vergil was seven, when Vergil was eight only to be welcome by a heavy silence that was no longer hiding brilliant thoughts but a painful sadness. But each time he did as Eva suggested, maybe more for her than for him, maybe because he still loved and admired Sparda even if he had left him, maybe because he thought that his father might see him and smile from wherever he was now, the same way he had smiled when he had read him his poem on his last father’s day.

And that’s certainly why, more than three decades later, he was back in this park, on this very special day with a bouquet of purple peonies he had bought on his way here and a memory that never faded. A memory he could still recite.

"Whether the sun shines or the sky cries, Whether the day breaks or the night wakes, My father always as a rampart stands Protecting my house with his bare hands.

He is strong, he is brave And the day he always saves. A knight in cockroach armor To scare my terror away."

Vergil scoffed at the lines, at the way they rolled off his tongue, finding them funny and childish and not worthy of a Blake or a Fielding at all unlike what he thought when he wrote them as a child. The over-confidence of youth probably.

“Did you just come up with that?” Vergil turned around to see Nero walking towards him with a smirk. A surprise but not a bad one. “Cause the rhyming sucks a little. I expected more of you.” “ And I suppose you’re an expert in poetry now?” “ I may read have read one of your books.” He said as he tapped the pocket of his marine blue coat hiding Vergil's most sacred book with pride. “You still have it I see.” “Hey! It’s a real page turner! Can’t get my nose out of it.” Vergil had a crooked smile, understanding perfectly what his son meant.

Son? Even a year after this reveal he still couldn’t believe this boy before him, the one he had lived such a terrifying yet incredible adventure with, was his own flesh and blood.

A sigh almost escaped Vergil’s lips. How did he make such a fine young man? Someone so selfless, so generous, so loving when he was nothing like that. “ What are you doing here, Nero?” He asked, trying not to think more about this. “ Well it’s father’s day, no? So … I made you something… or tried to.” The embarrassed grimace Nero suddenly made made Vergil’s smile grew larger but Nero, too worried to keep the gift covered with the pieces of newspapers he had taped together, didn’t see it as he didn’t see the paternal pride and the love shining in his father’s blue eyes. The same paternal pride Sparda had displayed when Vergil was a little child with a small paper in his hands. “Thank you Nero.” The man said as he gently took the present from his son's hands, wondering what it was even though the long shape didn’t leave much place for imagination.

He cautiously unwrapped the thing, already feeling a happiness he hadn’t felt in years warming his heart. And when he saw a katana-like wooden sword that purposely looked like Yamato he couldn’t help but smile and let a tiny drop of water blur his blue eyes. “It was Dante’s idea. Though he might have suggested gluing two sticks together.” Nero said as he scratched his head. “It looks amazing.” Vergil’s honesty was like a knife in Nero’s chest but in a good way. It was as if all the stress and all the stupid fear he had felt while making this toy sword had been stabbed away. He felt relieved, joyful even that his always so stern father was genuinely grateful and seemed to appreciate his gift. “That way, you won’t have to tear my arm apart again cause look, you have two now.” Nero tried to joke but his words just erased the smile on Vergil’s face.

“There is not a single day I don't regret what I did to you.” This was Vergil’s way to say he was sorry. Nero was certain of it. He didn’t need to know his father that well to know it. After all, he was somewhat the same. “Hey, it’s in the past. Plus it grew back, so no harm done.” He winked, trying to ease the atmosphere with a bad pun worthy of Dante even though there was a time he would have ripped Vergil’s chest open for what he had done. And a part of him knew he would never forget and maybe never fully forgive what happened. But right now he was just happy to have a family, to have a father and to finally be able to celebrate a day he has so long hated. “ This world doesn’t deserve you, son.” Vergil solemnly declared. He had never called Nero that way and that name felt strange yet beautiful to both of them. It made the son and the father smile in ways they never thought they would smile at each other. “ Damn, are you crying old man? I thought devils never cry.” Nero suddenly harrumphed when he finally noticed the water growing in his father's eyes. “ Well, fathers do cry." Vergil declared as he allowed a tear of joy and pride to fall along his pale cheek. The first in a very very long time but one he will never regret or brush away. "Father do cry.” He repeated with a glance at the statue of his father behind him.

#vergil #devil may cry #devil may cry one shot #dmc one shot #vergil one shot #nero #sparda #fanfiction #dadgil

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internetgremlin-writes · 2 years

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The Day Minerva McGonagall Decided to Retire

Prompt/Summary: My version of the epilogue at the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Pairing: No romantic pairing, written from Minerva McGonagall's POV

Warnings: None really, a bit melancholy for the Marauder's, LOTS of Marauder's/dead HP character reflection, Tonks/Lupin mentioned at the start BUT I DON'T SHIP IT I JUST LOVE TEDDY AND IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT SHE'D MADE A GREAT SURROGATE FOR A WOLFSTAR BABY I'M JUST SAYING

Word Count: 2,000

Minerva McGonagall knew she should have retired the day she found out that somehow Nymphadora Tonks had fallen pregnant with the child of Remus Lupin. Of course, she didn’t. A lover of teaching, combined with finally settling into the role of Headmistress of Hogwarts and her Scottish nature gave her the stubborn opinion that a child related to both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, was not going to be enough to stop her.

There was a phrase she knew muggles used, about certain traits ‘skipping a generation’ in families. Minerva McGonagall was not one to believe in superstitions or old wives tales and muggle idioms, if that’s what it was to be called, also fell squarely into that category.

That was, at least, until 2015, when she received the first of four heart-stopping moments and she realised there were little bits of them everywhere.

The first was Edward Lupin, who liked to go by Teddy. He was as tall and skinny as his father, but he had the same kind eyes and the first time he didn't have his homework he stood in front of her the same way; with his head down and shoulders hunched, refusing to say a word as he stared fixedly at a point on the floor. Her chest had tightened for a moment, and she couldn't give him a detention, instead opting to shoo him away with a quick wave and a sharp "This will be the last time, Mr Lupin,"

It wasn't until Teddy's fifth year at Hogwarts that Minerva experienced her first heart-stopping moment. He sauntered to the meeting point in the courtyard for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, wearing a white t-shirt with a picture of a muggle singer and the words DAVID BOWIE splashed across the back, blue jeans and a pair of steel-toe capped muggle boots that she knew she had confiscated to Filch's office in 1976. His hair wasn't brightly coloured as it usually was, but was sporting a natural light brown. He was the ghost of an angry young man she once knew. Minerva's breath caught for a moment and she had to steady herself as she took his permission slip, signed by someone who wasn't his parents.

Within the same year was the first of the Potter children, James Sirius Potter. She saw it in the way he insisted on running his hands through his hair, looking as if he'd just stepped off a broom despite him being a first-year who was not yet on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. It was in those ridiculous glasses he wore despite being open to much more choice, it was in the way he pushed them back up his nose with a wicked grin when he'd had an idea. It was in the way he rallied his friends, he was the natural leader and the centre of trouble, but he loved so deeply and dearly too.

In James' second year, naturally, he tried out for the Quidditch team. Minerva, never one to miss a historical moment for her team, made a point of watching from her office. She had expected him to be like his father. A talented seeker with a flair for a dramatic dive and an eye for drama. But he wasn't, from the moment he was airborne that boy was James Potter. He was a chaser, born and bred. On Harry Potter's famous old Firebolt he was up and down the pitch, flying rings around everyone else. He was natural and elegant, focused to a point and lethally precise, but when he did several celebratory loop-the-loops with such ease he could have been in a swimming pool Minerva McGonagall felt her heart stop for a moment.

The following year brought three more children of note, in the form of Albus Severus Potter, Rose Granger-Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy. It was Rose first, with her flaming red hair she didn't stand out against the sea of Weasley children and cousins that were firmly populating multiple houses, but it was in the way she was never seen without a book under her arm. She wasn't as tenacious as her mother, or argumentative as her father. She was quiet, keen and fascinated and oh so happy to help. Minerva saw it when she comforted a crying second year, not caring for a second that she was their inferior. She saw it when Rose excelled at potions and began completing work suitable for students years older than her for fun.

It was in their second year also, that Minerva had been monitoring the Great Hall during a study period when several loud bangs echoed across the room and suddenly the enchanted ceiling began to rain for real, soaking all the students, their books and parchment. It was the way Rose had stood up, hair slightly darker from the water pulling it down, with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed into a scathing look directed at James.

"James Potter you stop it at once! I know it's you!" she had cried, but once McGonagall had restored peace and given James and his friends' detention silence had resumed. Minerva had been walking between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables when she heard Rose tut at them, and it was in the way she spoke to her cousin that made her freeze. "Honestly, James, you're a buffoon. Do you know you could be top of the class if you put half as much effort into your schoolwork as you did these ridiculous pranks,"

Minerva heard Lily Evans scalding James Potter.

Her final moment came another year later, in 2018, and it was the one she found quite surprising. Scorpius Malfoy had all the airs and graces of a Sacred 28 wizard. He was elegant, polite, polished. But he was also friends with Albus Severus Potter, he had a wicked mind and a sense of humour to rival James'. In fact, despite being a year inferior, Scorpius seemed obsessed with competing with Albus' older brother, and James did nothing to discourage him. At first, Minerva saw it very subtly. He became a Beater for the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team and despite his slender build he was strong and had a knack for directing bludgers at the opposition. The day before the Christmas holidays, Scorpius had entered the Great Hall with a loud shout and arms thrown wide. He was dressed from head to toe in blue and bronze tinsel, which must have been enchanted to glitter as brightly as it was because it was catching in the candle lights making him look like a walking discoball. The miniature eagles circling his hat did not go unnoticed. There was only one other Hogwarts student Minerva could remember who had so much house pride, and she felt a pang of regret that Scorpius had not been sorted into Gryffindor.

After a particularly close loss for the Gryffindors, James Potter had thought himself funny enough to change the hair colour of each member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. Minerva McGonagall's heart stopped for two full beats when a Ravenclaw third year sat down, in the place of his usual platinum white har, was a shoulder-length, curly, jet black mop. Suddenly she could see the Black breeding in him everywhere. It was in the arch of his eyebrows, the exact shade of blue of his eyes, the high cheekbones and slightly upturned nose. It was in the bored expressions he could pull as he completed his transfiguration task in the first half of the lesson and the casual way in which he was fluent in French and Latin. It was in the way she hardly ever saw that boy touch a book, yet he was always competing with Rose for the top spot in most of his classes.

The day Minerva McGonagal decided it was time to retire had been during a particularly gloomy November week in 2017. She had been heading to the library that Thursday to add some 7th-year transfiguration texts to the Restricted Section when the sound of furtive whispering caught her attention. Many years as the head of Gryffindor house had taught her never to trust the sound of students whispering like that. She paused and changed her direction to investigate.

There was one spot in the library that was popular among many students at Hogwarts, past and present. It was a large round table with plenty of chairs and space for multiple students and even more open textbooks. The table was directly below the largest window in the library, it was a majestic thing, stretching from floor to ceiling with a spectacular view of the grounds, Forbidden Forest and the mountains beyond. Minerva also knew that the Whomping Willow, which she had insisted was to be kept on the grounds as a private memorial for those who knew what it meant, was not visible from this side of the castle.

James Sirius Potter was at the head of the table, hair a mess and glasses askew as he was frantically explaining something to the small audience he held captive. Even though he was the eldest, Teddy Lupin was leaning forward listening to James intently, scribbling notes and reaching for a book in the middle of the table here and there. His younger brother was sat similarly to Teddy, his blue and bronze tie wrapped around his forehead to prevent the mop of jet black hair from falling into his eyes as he watched at his brother with rapt attention. Albus Severus Potter was the only of the Potter children to inherit Lily's green eyes. Scorpius Malfoy was sat beside Albus, a bored expression on his face as he lolled back in his seat, lazily enchanting parchment aeroplanes to fly at James in a childish attempt to distract him. Rose Weasley was sat opposite Scorpius, watching him with disdain and rolling her eyes frequently at James as he continued to speak. Rounding off the table, shuffled closer to Scorpius than she was to Rose was another girl. She was small, wore her hair in two straight, neat plaits that curved around her head and sat over her shoulders. Her hair was a pale strawberry blonde, she had a splatter of freckles and pale blue eyes that stood out against her robes. Minerva knew the child, only by her appearance. She was a Ravenclaw too, a first-year, and her name was Daisy Dursley. There was also a passing visit from a boy with mocha skin and a flame of ginger hair. Fred Weasly II was there, all-star player and Quidditch Captain of the Gryffindor team, but as insistent on getting into trouble as his namesake, made a friend of Peeves the Poltergeist, and Minerva was pretty sure he was running a black-market trade of goods from his father's famous joke shop.

Minerva decided to leave them be, as they weren't causing any direct trouble. She dropped her books off, had a short conversation with the new librarian, a young woman who was a distant relative of Susan Bones and was a lot more personable than old Madame Pince. As she was leaving the library she heard something that made her heart race, and tears spring to her eyes involuntarily. It was James Potter's voice, she was certain of it.

"Right then. Let's go, Marauders!"

The day Minerva decided to stop threatening retirement and hand in her notice was a Saturday, at two o'clock in the morning. She had thought nothing more of the library incident for two days.

She awoke from the headmistress' chambers with a start. The sound of explosions that she thought had been a bad dream from the war had jolted her awake, but they carried on even so. She could hear shrieking and shouting from across the castle. Her heart hammering against her chest in a way she was convinced was not healthy for a woman of her age, she leapt up and charged to her window. The sky was dancing red and blue and yellow and green. She didn't know any spells that cast such patterns, and it was only once her window was flung open and she could hear the joyful hollers and whoops from below that she realised what was happening. A familiar collection of students, in an assortment of coloured house dressing gowns, were huddled on the lawn. The glittering in the sky was growing in intensity, and when she looked up something tugged on her chest. Written in the sky, in all four house colours, were the words

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALBU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liked this? Read more of my work here: Masterlist

Haha did you think I'd stick to the same fandom for more than a week? WRONG!

Anyway, I've been reading All The Young Dudes (it's on AO3 - go check it out!) and feeling sound about some dead wizards from the 70s so have this. It's a bit different because I wanted to have a go at writing third person/non-romance just to see if I still could because some days I swear smut rots my nog

Anyway it't 2am and I'll properly add taglists n stuff tomorrow

#harry styles #marauders era #harry potter next gen #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #lily evans #teddy lupin #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #rose granger weasley #scorpius malfoy #daisy dursley #fred weasley #fred weasley II #hp next gen #minerva mcgonagall #headmistress mcgonagall #mcgonagall being an absolute queen putting up with all the idiocy

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 years

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Mind the Gap: Four

“How are you going to fight with nails?” Shang-Chi asked inspecting your manicure, amused.

“The same way I fight without them,” you snort. “Dirty.”

He chuckles to himself and watches as you take a pull from the bottle of cold cider that’s sitting on the arm of your chair. “You don’t fight dirty,” he hummed, teasing.

“I fight dirty. The archive fights… well. They’re efficient.”

“I’ve never seen you fight dirty,” Shang-Chi said, turning your hand to inspect the rings you’re wearing in the firelight. He’d never seen you wear jewelry. Not much past some fun little rings that you and Katy had a tendency to pick up at street fairs.

“You’ve never seen me fight at all,” you point out.

He grinned and brushed a kiss across the back of your knuckles. “We’ll have to fix that,” he hummed.

“Oh?”

“I have a type,” he said smirking, “I like girls that can beat me up.”

You take another pull from your bottle and tuck your feet up on the chair, lacing your fingers through his, “I gotta say, You’re taking all this pretty well.”

“Mom’s a witch, Dad and brother are werewolves… You have a ghost that just lives in your head. What’s to freak out about?”

You smile a little and look up at him, “I love you,” you tell him, earnestly. “And I’m- I’m sorry for what it’s worth.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said reaching over cradle your cheek in his other hand. “You didn’t lie to me to hurt me. You lied to me to protect me… And yourself. And Katy... And every single other person we know. He pauses for a moment, watching tears well up in your eyes. YOUR eyes. Not the Archive are staring back at him. And his chest hurts. His heart feels like it takes up too much room and he can’t breathe. “We both have a past,” he murmured, “And I think that- I think that together, we can build a future.”

He brushes a tear away with his thumb and smiles a little, “Please don’t cry,” he murmurs, leaning forward and brushing a soft kiss against your lips, “Your dad might actually eat me.”

And when you laugh, Shang-Chi can feel his heart soar.

“Ew,” Katy said throwing herself across your lap, “there are kids awake still. Will you stop being all gross?”

“Nah,” you snort, crinkling your nose and leaning back over to steal one more chaste kiss.

“I can’t believe you’ll willingly share cooties,” she said, “ugh.”

“Would it get me eaten to make a joke about us sharing more than that?” he mused out loud.

“Son,” Renaud said, taking the bottle off your chair and inspecting the label, “Don’t try it.”

Shang-Chi turns to look at him and smiles sheepishly, “Sorry.”

He makes a dismissive gesture and shrugs. Sure it’s been a while. But he remembers being young. And in love. He remembers the urgency. And just how bright the future looks when you have someone to hold your hand. And he doesn’t really feel like threatening someone’s son. Not today. “Y/N I need to speak with you.”

And Shang-Chi doesn’t need to be looking at you to feel you bristle. “It’s a little late,” you counter.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he cautioned.

“You can’t do 10 years of parenting in an afternoon,” you sigh, “I’m tired. I’m here and don’t want to be. Can’t we just put this off another 10 years?”

Renaud folded his arms and Shang-Chi felt himself tense. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen but- he couldn’t help but want to protect you.

“No, we can’t,” he said eyes narrowing. “Either you come on your own or I can make you go… But I’d prefer not to embarrass you.”

The tension in the air is thick and magic sends tingles down everyone’s spine. Katy shifts over and you get to your feet, “Do you think you can?”

Shang-Chi looks between the two of you and notices that beyond you, people are watching. Waiting. And when Kai steps closer he insinuates himself between you, oriented towards being able to stop you from moving forward. “Y/N,” he murmured, “Just get it over with. Don’t make a scene.”

When Renaud snarls at him Kai’s eyes narrow, “Step back,” he snaps at Renaud. “Do you really think the Archive will hesitate? Step back.”

Renaud took a hesitant step back and and watched the wordless conversation, or rather argument you were having with interest. And, regardless of how he felt about it, he supposed he was grateful when you allowed yourself to be lead away.

“I’m gonna be in so much fucking trouble,” Kai groaned.

“Why?” Shang-Chi asked, not taking his eyes off your retreating back until you rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, “Dad has some… fairly specific, ideas about the way his daughter should be living her life.”

Xialing snorted and Kai smiled a little. “In another time,” he said, “She would have been a princess… It rankles that she has all this education and works as a children’s librarian while living in, what dad considers to be… less than appropriate accommodations.” Kai rolled his eyes, “There’s more than that but… pretty much any time they talk he lectures her until she cries and then he gets pissed off and threatens to close her trust fund… Only to get more pissed off when she reminds him she doesn’t need it, not really.”

“She has a trust fund?” Katy gasped.

“Well… yeah. Dad owns a security company. And Y/N is sometimes paid pretty hefty sums for casting charms for people.”

“Charms?” Xialing asked.

“Sure,” he said shrugging, “How’d you think witches made money? If funded her globe trotting for a few years… There’s always desperate people looking for a way out and Y/n is pretty good at them. It’s a… a family trait I guess.”

“Can you do it?” Shang-Chi asked, curious.

“I could once,” he said honestly, “But… Werewolf magic and witch magic don’t stack. At least not well.”

Katy nodded, “I’m just going to pretend I know the difference.”

Kai snorted, “Y/n can probably give you an hours long technical explanation of how it works and the difference between internal and external magic but… Suffice to say that doing witch magic as a werewolf is sort of like making a remote control work when the batteries are in backwards… You probably can but it’s not going to work well and it’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

______

“You’re one of the most preeminent scholars of witchcraft and religion in the world-”

“Yes, and I get a sort of perverse pleasure out of reading Harry Potter to children,” you say shrugging.

“Y/N,” your father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t like teaching. I don’t want to rack up frequent flyer miles right now. Why is it so hard for any of you to believe that I might just want to be normal for a while?”

“Because you aren’t!”

“And whose fault is that?” you challenge, “I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t ask to be the Archive-”

When you break off abruptly your father gives you a level look. The part you didn’t say, “I didn’t ask to be my mother’s daughter,” hangs in the air. You’ve never said it. Not even after all this time. You’ve never spoken of your mother and what you remember. But Renaud hears it. As surely as he sees your mother staring back at him when he looks at you for too long.

“Just think about it-” he presses

“I won’t,” you shrug.

“Jet-”

“Don’t,” you warn. “Don’t you dare tell me what Jet would have wanted. Not when she was the only person that knew what was waiting for me.”

#Shang-Chi #Shang-Chi x reader #Shang-Chi Fanfiction #angst #fluff

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spaceecoffe · 3 years

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The Owl House x Slavic Mythology, Part 2 (this one will be longer)

Okay, so in this post I will tell you about few things. First of all you need to know something: slavic mythology is hard to uncover. It is not so easy to find true informations about this like about Greek, Roman or Norse mythology. A lot of Slavic beliefs were twisted by christian propaganda (like in last post I told you about Domovoy bringing good luck to you house -> with a time christians started to tell a story about mean house demon Domovoy and that all the good things he did were actually done by Angels, ugh). It is also twisted by patriarchy that with time didn't want people to believe in some powerful female demons or goddesses.

Slavic mythology for sure was kinda like Boiling Isles: most of demons and nature wants to kill you in some strange ways, but there were also some good demons, good characters and good gods/goddesses. And when you search for some informations you need to remember this. I'm writing it here because one of characters in this post suffers from her story being twisted by christians and men. And you can also see influence of patriarchy in first part.

But lets start the main stuff:

1. Witches and Wizards

Oh, yes, first thing you can think of is a second episode of first season "Witches before Wizards" AND I LOVE IT. Why? Because it destroys traditional look on the witches and wizards, of course! But from the beginning.

In slavic beliefs witches were women who signed a pact with the devil and gained from it magic powers. They used it to turn other people lives into hell by hexes and all that stuff. It was hard to recognise them, but people say that normally woman drinks a glass of vodka (or apple blood!) on three times while witches do it in one sip! Also, if you look deep in their eyes you will see head of a goat. But it could be any women in yours surrounding: single one, old one, married, young... You couldn't trust any woman!

And that is the misogynistic view on witches. The truth is that witches were a wise women who helped other. They often were herbalists and healers in their villages. But people didn't understand how they did their "elixirs", they only knew they worked, so the ones that were jealous about their knowledge create this story about "terrible and scary witches".

At the same time there were Wizards. They were the ones that people looked up to. And it's all because Wizards used their magic for a science and not hexing people! Like, you know... The only thing women can do is to be mean to other people and only think about how to make others lives worse, while man think about more important stuff. But, fortunately, wizards had also some bad traits, like being too ambitious.

So when Luz goes to Boiling Isles it appears that it is full of witches. Not only women witches, but also men. And this is kind of amazing because we finally abandon this archetype of only women being witches. At the same time (in second episode) we can hear King saying:

"Wizards are only old people with glitter in their pockets"

Oh, how I love this! Why? Because there always been a discourse in the topic of magic. When magic was used from science (by wizards or by alchemists) it was good, but when it was coming from nature (used by witches or folks) it was satanic and scary. But here? Here everything is opposite. We know now, thanks to Lilith, that magic in Boiling Isles is highly bonded to the nature and it is used from it. That's why everyone there is called witch, regardless of gender.

Why it is so important for me that witches are cool on Boiling Isles and wizards are only having glitter in their pockets? It's because at the same time that witches were burned on piles in Poland (1600s), you could go on Cracovian Academy (now Jagiellonian University) and get education in being Wizard or Alchemist.

So yeah, this episode just destroyed the archetype of good and wise wizards against bad and wild witches which should happen more often. But until Tolkien's books will still be "best fantasy" I doubt we will se more of breaking this stupid rule (and also sexism in fantasy).

Also, fun fact, in this episode we see Radegast in clothes with stars:

and also we hear that he was "looking at the stars" when Luz came. I know that wizards are usually depicted with some star-theme, but he really reminds me of the legend of Pan Twardowski, the most powerful wizard in Polish (some says he was a German actually) history. He signed the pact with the Devil to gain his power but run away from him to the other side of the moon, were some says, he still lives. He also probably was a real person (Jan Twardowski) who worked on Zygmunt August's court as magician and astrologist, sometime between 1530 - 1570, while as I said, witches were burned on piles.

But let's move to the second thing!

2. Eda, The Baba Yaga

Oh, yes! You've seen this coming. And also it was greatly showed in this amazing post, which you have to read! But I will put in my tuppence here.

First of all, who was Baba Yaga? You heard about her for sure, but probably all of this were lies. Surly, she was the most powerful known witch. She could do almost anything with her magic and she also could brew any potion. As you probably know she lived in the house on chicken legs deep in the forest.

As for her look she was small, old with a big nose and a lot of wrinkles:

She doesn't look nice, does she? Isn't that strange that the most powerful witch in our beliefs has to be so "ugly" (ugh, I hate this word but I have to use it here I think)? The truth is that probably she never looked like this. Historians thinks that at the beginning she was one of the most important goddesses in Slavic Mythology. She was in control of life and death, she was the personification of nature and its power. Some people also believe that she was the one responsible for children initiation to adult life. One of the historians, Zygmunt Krzak, said:

"This is about the reviled figure of the ancient goddess, a characterisation created by religious and secular male elites fighting against matriarchal religion."

So now we can see how Eda works as alternative Baba Yaga from Boiling Isles.

First of all, she IS the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. She lives deep in the forest and she is great at brewing potions. Everyone is scared of her but at the same time, if someone is in trouble, she will totally help. Also, in episode one of season two we can see how she actually care about animals (and probably all nature).

But, most importantly, she is against Emperor's rules. As I said in subsection 1, being a witch is all about taking your power from nature. And actually what Emperor is doing is fighting with this, just like christianity when it started to appear on slavic lands. Emperor forbids to use wild magic, he tries to cut witches away from nature. He makes them join covens that can control their magic so they are becoming more and more distant from the natural magic. And Eda is this one person on whole Boiling Isles that is against it and that's why Emperor's Coven tries to change her image so people would think of her as a scary and wild witch which should meet her punishment for being that close to nature.

Another thing that reminds me of Baba Yaga is, of course, how she took care of Luz and helped her to became the witch. This is how initiation of children looks like. Yes, Eda did this in her own way but if not for her, Luz would never went do Hexside and problady wouldn't ever found out about glyphs. So yes, Eda was that one witch who helped Luz, the child (or "her kid") to become real witch, and that is probably what real Baba Yaga was doing.

Also...

Yes, I don't have to comment that, you know what I'm showing to you. But I just want to remind you that Kikimores hate chicken so it naturally goes that Kikimora is on the opposite side to Eda, The Baba Yaga.

The last thing I want to add is that Belos clearly do the same thing to witches on Boiling Isles that christians did to slavic folks (and yes, a lot more cultures in the world but here I'm focusing on Slavs). That is why I am almost sure that he is a human, probably Philippe, because this is just what people of middle and west Europe always did to different cultures -> "Veni, Vidi, Vici" as Julius Cesar said.

Part 1

#the owl house #toh #emperor belos #the owl house emperor belos #eda the owl lady #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #the owl house luz #slavic mythology #baba yaga #baba jaga #the owl house x slavic mythology

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moments of physical contact can occasionally forge long-term telepathic bonds between cultivators. These bonds are usually based on positive emotions like familial or romantic love, or deep feelings of friendship, but the emotions don’t necessarily have to be positive to forge a bond. Wei Wuxian is very upset to find out that punching Jin Zixuan in the face apparently counts as a sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moment of physical contact.

on ao3

Wei Wuxian had been obsessed with the idea of a resonant bond ever since he first learned about it.

Sure, it was a rarity. It was easier for a cultivator to find a friend, a lover, or even a soulmate than it was for them to create a resonant bond, which required not merely liking or understanding or even love but rather a single moment in time in which two cultivators were on exactly the same wavelength.

Their cultivation strength, their frame of mind, the state of their bodies, the exact way in which they touched – in that one moment, everything would be exactly the same, and the Heavens would forget for that brief moment to see the two as separate, like two separate raindrops merging into one before the moment passed, some difference introduced, and they were broken apart into separate beings again. Yet even after they separated, they would irrevocably retain some aspects of the other, a connection that generally manifested, it was said, as a mental bond that could not be broken, a tie that would keep them bound together no matter the distance.

Such a thing could not be worked towards, only hoped for; it was a matter of luck.

Wei Wuxian had never wanted anything more in his life.

The thought of never being alone again – it enticed him, it excited him. Jiang Cheng could wrinkle his nose in distaste at the idea that he might not be alone in his mind anymore, that someone would see all the stupid or terrible things he sometimes thought, but to Wei Wuxian that was the best part: that someone would see you and know you and you would see and know them, too. To have someone to accompany you through the best and worst moments of your life, always at your side…

To never fear abandonment, to never need to worry about someone going out only for a little and then never coming back.

It would be amazing.

That was what Wei Wuxian thought.

Well, that was what he thought right up until he punched Jin Zixuan in the face for insulting his shijie, his whole heart burning at the unfairness of adults who didn’t understand, at other boys who didn’t appreciate what they had, at everything all around them and at his own weakness in not being able to do more, and something just –

Clicked.

“Hey, wake up! Wake up! Are you all right?”

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, only to be assaulted with what felt like double vision. Above him were Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, hovering and looking anxious, and from the corner of his eye he could see Lan Wangji, who he so enjoyed teasing, was sweeping over to them with a grim expression – and yet at the same time he thought he could perceive different faces above him as well.

Three young men and two women, all looking down at him with smiles like sharks, ready to devour. Each one of them draped in the gold they lusted to take from his hands –

What the fuck? Wei Wuxian thought groggily. How did I end up on the ground?

Good question. I didn’t think I got punched that hard.

Wait, Wei Wuxian thought. Hold up, I got punched? I didn’t even see the peacock lift his fists!

…Wei Wuxian? Is that – you?

Wei Wuxian’s eyes went wide when he realized he hadn’t said any of that out loud, that to judge from Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s chatter they hadn’t heard either him nor the other voice. Which meant that the voice had to be...in his head. Is this – this is a resonant bond. We formed a resonant bond!

Shit, Jin Zixuan thought, because it was Jin Zixuan, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t say anything about this to anyone!

What? Why?

Please!

Wei Wuxian hadn’t even known that the peacock knew that word.

Fine, he said, feeling generous on account of the whole bond business. I won’t tell. For now.

“Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang asked, looking worriedly fretful. “Are you all right? You haven’t said anything.”

“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his head and trying to think of a lie to explain why he fell over like that. “I think the peacock must’ve had a talisman or a defensive weapon or something. Whatever it is, I’m fine now.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re all right,” Jiang Cheng said, looking deeply relieved. And then, a moment later – “Because I’m going to kill you - !”

There wasn’t too much time to talk after that. Wei Wuxian was sentenced to kneeling, and then his Uncle Jiang arrived and Sect Leader Jin arrived – oh no, oh no, oh no, I fucked up, Jin Zixuan thought hopelessly, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel a bit of the same – and the next thing Wei Wuxian knew, the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli was broken and he was being sent to pack up his things, to be taken home at once.

Jin Zixuan was swept away by his father, too.

“A pity about the engagement,” Sect Leader Jin remarked idly as they walked together. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have said such a thing. Your mother will be disappointed.”

Wei Wuxian could feel the way that that jabbed at Jin Zixuan’s heart like a stab with a sword.

“Still, it’s no harm,” the man continued, indifferently ignoring the impact his words had had on his son. “One could even call it a gain! You won’t be burdened down with that shrew’s daughter anymore.”

That what?!

Tune out of this conversation, please, Jin Zixuan said, his thoughts dull and sluggish and resigned. It’s going to get worse from here on out.

It did.

Sect Leader Jin commented at some great length about his views on Madame Yu’s many faults – her temper, her strength, her nosiness, her thought that she was worth anything other than a pair of legs and an inheritance – and contrasted it with some salacious comments on her positive traits – mostly the legs, with a few comments on the upper half as well – and then he started speculating about Jiang Yanli, too, in a way that made Wei Wuxian’s blood boil.

It’s not about her, Jin Zixuan told him, his voice a little desperate in a familiar way – he was used to having to defend his father, and just as obviously didn’t want to. He’s building up a defense.

What?

For my mother. She’ll be angry at him for agreeing to break the engagement, so he’ll say that it was my idea, say all this stuff, and then she’ll be angry at me for believing it, instead, even though I don’t. This isn’t what I wanted at all.

Wei Wuxian frowned. You wanted to marry my shijie? You sure didn’t show it!

No, I just didn’t want to marry anybody, Jin Zixuan said, and…okay, fine, that was a pretty respectable position. Wei Wuxian didn’t particularly want to marry anyone yet, either. I just got angry when everyone was talking about how it was a done deal, that’s all. Just one more thing that got picked for me.

Wei Wuxian had heard Jiang Cheng complain about similar enough things – how much of his life was selected in advance, how much was organized for the benefit of his sect rather than his own interests, how little choice he got. How even if he’d been as good as Wei Wuxian, or even better, he still wouldn’t have been able to go out and hunt pheasants all day the way Wei Wuxian did.

He refused to feel sympathy. Well, you shouldn’t have taken it out on my shijie!

Probably not. Jin Zixuan was silent for a moment. It probably doesn’t help, but I’m sorry for my rudeness.

Wei Wuxian hated it when people were reasonable. It made it so much harder to stay angry at them.

Are you going to tell me why I can’t tell people about this bond yet? he asked. You’d better have a good reason, I had to put up with an entire scolding from Jiang Cheng because I didn’t have a good excuse!

Later tonight. I promise.

That night, Wei Wuxian excused himself early and hid himself in his room on the boat. He knew that he was giving both Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng the impression that he was feeling deeply guilty about having broken the engagement, thereby making them feel bad about it, which he didn’t intend, but he really wanted to hear the reason. If it wasn’t good enough, he’d really break Jin Zixuan’s nose this time!

It really is a good reason!

Well, then? If it’s so good, don’t keep me in suspense!

Jin Zixuan sighed. Wei Wuxian felt it like an exhalation on his cheek, as if Jin Zixuan were right there beside him. You know how a resonant bond is supposed to be equal?

What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? Wei Wuxian asked, and felt something cold in his belly.

There are forbidden techniques, ancient ones, that are designed to manipulate a resonant bond into an unequal state. To make one side the master and the other the slave.

That’s disgusting!

If we told anyone, my father would find a way to get one, Jin Zixuan said, and he wasn’t guessing. His voice was utterly certain. There’s very little money can’t buy, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the idea of having a spy in the very heart of the Jiang clan.

Well, then just don’t tell him!

Just like I didn’t tell him about what I said about your shijie?

Wei Wuxian got tripped up by that. It was true, Jin Zixuan hadn’t said a word about what had happened, and yet his father had already known every last detail. How..?

One of my ‘friends’ told him, of course. Probably more than one, actually – I wouldn’t be surprised if they all passed it along. It’s what he pays them for.

He pays for your friends to spy on you?!

I already told you that there’s little money can’t buy. Why not friends?

I wouldn’t be friends with people who accepted money to spy on me. Why do you?

If it’s not this set, it’ll be another, and it’s all the same. If they won’t be bought, then I can’t be friends with them…anyway, I’ve gotten used to these ones.

All of them? Wei Wuxian asked. Even Mianmian? She didn’t seem the type…

Her name is Luo Qingyang, and yes. Her parents are sick and my father’s paying for the treatment; if she doesn’t tell him everything, he’ll cut off funds…she told me about it, though. Said that if there was ever a time that I wanted her to ‘forget’ to report something, she could do that. That’s more than most would do, and probably about as much as anyone can expect –

Have you ever had a friend that wasn’t bought? Wei Wuxian asked. I mean…ever?

Jin Zixuan was silent.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Well, I guess you have me now, Wei Wuxian thought, with only a tiny amount of self-pity for the stupidity of agreeing to be friends with Jin Zixuan. Still, if he’d survived his efforts at being Lan Wangji’s friend, he could survive anything. No one’s going to buy me!

But –

Nope! No take-backs! We have a resonant bond, peacock. You think I’m going to waste a gift from the Heavens like this just because it’s with you? You’ve got another thing coming!

…can you at least stop calling me a peacock?!

Madame Yu made her displeasure clear enough when Wei Wuxian returned, ordering him to kneel all night and do every available chore and things like that, but Wei Wuxian didn’t take it to heart – he never did, really.

Like Jiang Cheng, Madame Yu’s bark was worse than her bite: for all that she hissed and spat and punished him with kneeling or holding up weights, she’d never denied him resources, kept him back from training, or even denied him the spot of head disciple to promote another less qualified in his place, which she very well might have if she were a bit pettier.

So he didn’t take it personally, even if Jin Zixuan seemed indignant on his behalf – you were defending her daughter! You’d think she’d give you some leeway for that, at least! – and at any rate it was better than Jin Zixuan’s slow meandering way home, with his father disappearing every night into a brothel or the bedroom of some innkeeper’s daughter or something like that.

It was better than Jin Zixuan’s mother’s reaction, too, which was to scream and shout and say vicious nasty things, to smash plates and vases against the walls right over his head, and then to pull him into her arms and make him promise over and over again that he would never betray her.

I think I suffered more in terms of physical exertion, but you get full points for all the emotional devastation, Wei Wuxian said after Jin Zixuan returned to hide in his bedroom. Does she do that a lot?

All the time, Jin Zixuan said. All the fucking time.

After a moment, he added, guiltily, It’s only that she loves me –

Ugh, don’t even start with that, Wei Wuxian said. Complaining about awful parent-related trauma is boring, I get enough of it from Jiang Cheng. Help me figure out what I should do tomorrow: flying kites, swimming, or hunting pheasants? Oh, or fishing!

…seriously? Do you spend any time cultivating?

Oh, come on. It’s my first day back!

That just means you have more you need to catch up on!

Your shijie is really nice.

I told you!

You didn’t! You just hit me!

Wei Wuxian loved having a resonant bond.

Sure, it wasn’t with someone useful like Jiang Cheng or even wonderful like Lan Wangji – I can hear you, you know – but it was kind of nice to have someone to complain to when it would be awkward to put it onto Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli.

The other half being Jin Zixuan was also not as bad as he had first thought it would be. Sure, he was just as spoiled, arrogant, vain, and deeply cynical about human nature as Wei Wuxian had thought – I can still hear you! – but he was also an awkward introvert with no social skills and an over-active guilt complex – fuck you too, Wei Wuxian – and, in the sum total of things, surprisingly tolerable. Thanks? I think?

It’d certainly made the indoctrination camp more tolerable, even if it did mean having two people talking in his ear about how he needed to think more about the consequences of his actions and how it might reflect on his sect, and certainly having Jin Zixuan confirming that the other disciples had made it out of the cave and were moving at full speed to try to get help made the days he was waiting with Lan Wangji a lot less stressful, and their ensuing rescue a lot easier.

But sometimes –

This is a terrible idea! You can’t do it!

You don’t get a say! Wei Wuxian snarled. This is my decision.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said. A moment later, quieter: Is this because I couldn’t make it to you in time to help?

Wei Wuxian swallowed, feeling his eyes burn. The Wen attack was a surprise to everyone, he said. Even if you were able to convince your father to let you go help with everyone you had, it wouldn’t – you wouldn’t have made it in time to do anything.

After his father had refused, Jin Zixuan had snuck out of Jinlin Tower through what he’d thought was a secret passage and tried to go anyway, only to be caught and dragged back. Wei Wuxian appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t make a difference in the end.

When they were on the run from the Wen sect, after, Jin Zixuan had encouraged Wei Wuxian to head to Lanling, swearing that he wouldn’t allow anyone to turn them over to the Wen sect, but they hadn’t gotten that far.

And now…

It’s my choice, Wei Wuxian said. You don’t get a say.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said again, but his voice was softer. Fine. But I’m here for you.

Wei Wuxian smiled, just a little bit, and told to Wen Qing to start.

I’m going to murder my father, Jin Zixuan said, conversationally. And then go to the hell reserved for patricides and be reborn as a chicken right before slaughter.

For shame, Wei Wuxian said. Not even a lamb or a goat?

No, I want to be able to bite someone and mean it, and chickens are better at that than goats.

Wei Wuxian giggled, a little hysterically. It’s fine, he said, looking around the Burial Mounds. It’s fine that he won’t let you come to my rescue immediately. Not like I’m going anywhere.

He’d thought – they’d both thought – that the resonant bond would break or maybe transfer to Jiang Cheng along with Wei Wuxian’s golden core, but it hadn’t.

Wei Wuxian had been depressingly grateful for it, for the by now familiar Lanling cadence of Jin Zixuan in his head. It made the horrible quiet empty of the Burial Mounds a little more tolerable, a little less awful.

Anyway, he said briskly, shaking off his terror at being here alone but for the voice in his head. I have an idea…

I feel like if I knew Chifeng-zun looked like that I would’ve made befriending Nie Huaisang more of a priority when I was younger.

I know, right? Wei Wuxian thought back. Just…wow.

A moment later, he added, a little irritably, I thought you were into my shijie again?

I am! I’m allowed to have eyes, okay?

Not if you’re surnamed Jin you aren’t.

Fuck you.

Nope. And Chifeng-zun isn’t going to, either.

He could feel Jin Zixuan rolling his eyes. I don’t even want him to, I was really just looking. Anyway, how’s Lan Wangji doing?

Lan Zhan? He’s – well, he’s always bothering me about going back to Gusu with him, talking about how my demonic cultivation is dangerous to me, but oh, you should have seen him when he joins us to fight..! You can forgive anything, really, just to watch him move – Wei Wuxian paused. Wait, why are you asking?

No reason.

Jin Zixuan! You tell me this instant -

Jin Zixuan was locking Wei Wuxian out of his head again.

It was a technique they’d worked on developing together – with some assistance from Wei Wuxian’s brilliance and Jin Zixuan’s ability to find and purchase extremely rare reference texts, whether on resonant bonds or just more generally, including when Wei Wuxian had needed some help figuring out some things about demonic cultivation while trapped on the Burial Mounds – as it had become moderately urgent following Jin Zixuan’s first spring dream involving Jiang Yanli, and even more so once he’d decided that he really did want to marry her, actually, if she’d be willing to have him.

There were some things Wei Wuxian did not need to know about his shijie.

Still, it was unusual for him to block him during the day. One might even call it suspicious.

I’m sorry, Jin Zixuan said abruptly. It had to be done, and you weren’t going to do it.

Huh? What are you talking about…?

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian turned, surprised. His shidi’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and he ran up and pulled him into his arms. “Wei Wuxian…!”

“What?” he asked, puzzled. “What’s this about…?”

“How could you?!” Jiang Cheng demanded, weeping into his neck. “You should have told me – you had no right to – to give me – Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian’s back went stiff. You didn’t!

It was the truth or you getting kicked out of your sect! He needed to know!

Fuck you! It wasn’t your choice to make!

I’m not going to stand by and let you get schemed against, Jin Zixuan said. Certainly not by my own father. I won’t!

I’m going to make you pay for this, Wei Wuxian said darkly, then looked down at Jiang Cheng in his arms. And possibly thank you for it. But I’m definitely going to make you pay!

This may sound weird, Jin Zixuan said. But I think I’m being poisoned.

Based on what I know about Lanling Jin sect and its politics, it’s not weird at all, Wei Wuxian said instinctively, then frowned. Are you serious? It’s not just baby fatigue or something?

That’s what I thought at first, too. But now I’m not so sure. He was silent for a moment. I don’t want to sound like my mother, but…

You think it’s Lianfeng-zun? I’m not saying he doesn’t have the most motive for it, but do you really think..? He seems so nice.

He is, most of the time. Jin Zixuan sighed. Maybe I really am just tired.

Wei Wuxian didn’t think so. He’d had a half-dozen years of listening to the backstabbing, vicious world of Jinlin Tower under his belt by now – had fought bitterly in the war only to fight even more bitterly for something like the right to attend his own shijie’s wedding, something that ought to have been his by right – had nearly suffered an ambush when he tried to attend Jin Ling’s first month party, with Jin Zixun attacking him and Wen Ning going unexpectedly crazy and Jin Zixuan rushing over as fast as he could to make them all stop. If he hadn’t already known about Jin Zixuan not knowing about this, if he hadn’t felt something go wrong and thrown himself in between them without thinking, Jin Zixuan might’ve died there and then on the Qiongqi path.

If Jin Zixuan thought he was being poisoned, he was probably being poisoned.

I’ll come visit you and look into it, Wei Wuxian said. We can pretend that I’m there to visit shijie.

They’d long ago confessed the truth to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, of course. For some reason, neither had looked all that surprised.

With your reputation, even if you figured something out, who’d believe you? Jin Zixuan asked. Ask Hanguang-jun if he’ll come, his reputation will bear up.

Lan Zhan? Sure! I’m always happy to work with him. But you know, he’s been ignoring me recently…I don’t know why…

Tell him about the resonant bond.

What? I thought we were still keeping it a secret.

Tell him. He doesn’t tell anyone anything.

Good point, I guess. You think that’ll help him stop ignoring me?

Yes.

Wei Wuxian generally trusted Jin Zixuan’s reading of people, now that he was mature enough not to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment. All right, I will. Can you tell me why?

You’ll find out when you tell him.

Unhelpful.

Noted and ignored.

Fuck you.

Yeah, you too. See you soon.

Jin Zixuan?

Yeah?

Thank you for my love life, but also, FUCK YOU.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #resonant bond #this one is set in the untamed but only barely #lesbianjinzixuan

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airi-p4 · 3 years

Text

Love in the sky

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers LBSC Sprint challenge - Meet cute week event and, once again, I got carried away and broke all the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Prompt: Sitting next to each other on the plane.

Summary: Marinette is going to NY on an international flight for the first time. What she doesn’t know is that the one seated next to her is the popular new band Kitty Section’s guitarist: Luka Couffaine.

Thank you @livrever for checking it for me 💙

AO3

______________________________________

Marinette rushed through the aisle of the plane. She couldn’t believe she almost missed it! her first international trip to the US! Stupid alarm! Of course she was tired. She was so nervous she couldn’t sleep all night… until 5AM… and the plane departed at 10AM… and obviously she had to oversleep. *sigh*

Running, tripping and spinning on her feet, she finally searched for her seat. 38B - aisle seat. Her pink polka dotted suitcase was heavy, but thanks to the cabin attendant she could finally put it inside the overhead bin, while her backpack rested under the seat in front of her. All set, she let her weight fall on the seat at last and let out a deep breath as she fastened her seatbelt.

The doors of the plane closed, and the PA message started: Welcome on board… Security instructions… Marinette wasn’t listening. Her legs were uncontrollably shaking, and her fingers were fidgeting with the laces of her hoodie.

Those nerves and stress couldn’t be healthy.

She examined her surroundings, and, next to her, someone was sleeping. Someone, who appeared to be a young man, with a sleeping eye mask and a face mask on, messy blue hair showing under a knit hat and a blanket covering his body. Overall, it didn't give much more information about her plane's seat neighbor. Not wanting to wake him up, she focused on the rest of the passengers instead. Why were all of them so quiet when she felt her heart could burst out of her chest anytime?

The plane started its runaway and Marinette closed her eyes tightly when it raised from the lane. Once in the air, she started breathing again, but her heart was still beating fast.

"First time on a plane?" a masculine voice beside her asked.

She turned to her side, and looked at the person seated next to her. His eye mask was over his head now, and she could see his blue eyes clearly, while his blue bangs partly covered his eyebrows.

“Y- yes!” she squeaked.

“You’re making me nervous too. Calm down, it’s going to be ok” he assured.

“I- I know!" She said, but her body wasn’t obeying. “I’m sorry...”

The young man sighed. “Look, I’ve been on a plane many times. It’s safe. Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s going to be a long flight.”

“I- I can’t! I’m too nervous! I’ve never traveled alone before, plus my career depends on this trip! I can’t stay calm!”

“Why don’t you try listening to some music, then? It always helps me relax” the young man offered her a sympathetic look.

“Music…?” she blinked. ‘It could work’.

She plugged the earphones and put them in her ears. Then, she scrolled through the music programs on the touch screen in front of her. Classical music? For some reason, it only made it worse. Country music? Not her style. XY? Hell, no. Her eyes stopped at the name of a fairly new band: “Kitty Section”. She played the video called: “Kitty Section's Paris Live Concert”.

“Good choice” the man next to her said when the title started showing on the screen.

Marinette had heard about the band called Kitty Section. They had featured in most of her favorite magazines after they won Eurovision several months ago, but she wasn't familiar with their music. In less than a minute, she was hooked and forgot completely about her surroundings or her nerves.

“Wow!” she mumbled, mesmerized, and the man next to her let out a snicker.

The music was amazing- the rock vibes, their stage presence, the vocalists’ cuteness and high ranged voice, the accurate and insane drums, the gorgeous purple haired bassist… all of them sounded incredible. But the guitarist… the blue haired guitarist was extraordinary- unbelievably good. Not only talented, but also powerful, charismatic and incredibly handsome.

“They’re good, huh?” The man beside her commented and she nodded. She could tell he was smiling under his face mask. She nodded in agreement.

“I had never heard them properly before but damn- they are incredible” Marinette answered, and he laughed. Her fingers tapped rhythmically, following the beat of the song. “But…" she continued, observing. "I think they could do better. There’s a margin of improvement,” she said with judging eyes.

“Oh, really? How?” The blue-eyed man asked, curious, resting his elbow on the arm rest to get a closer look.

“The costumes,” Marinette pointed out. Then, she reached her backpack under her feet and took out a sketchbook and a pen and started drawing. “The outfits could be improved if they added this, and this” she signaled. “And this-” She kept scribbling while the blue-haired man observed and listened to her suggestions. “And ta-da! Wouldn’t they look even better if they were like this?” She proudly showed him her designs, only to realize she was being embarrassing towards a stranger. “Ah, sorry- I got carried away…” She apologized. But the man took the sketchbook in his hands.

“Let me see,” he said, and she saw how his eyes examined every detail of her drawings. She gulped nervously. It felt like her skills were being tested. But the man took his face mask off and smiled. “Wow, that’s impressive. Fresh, charismatic, unique- and perfectly according to the band's style. I love them" he returned her the sketchbook. "You’re very talented. Are you famous? Do you take commissions?” He asked, and she looked at him speechless.

“I- I’m still a no-one… Is it really impressive?” She looked at him and blushed at the compliment.

“Yes, I think so. What would you do with this outfit?” He asked, showing him a photo of the same band on his smartphone. Her inspiration overflowed as she kept drawing and explaining her ideas. They kept discussing costumes and visual aspects of the band and chatted comfortably for a long time.

"I think Rose should go with something more… daring, bolder. She looks innocent but she's fierce inside. Of course, cuteness is her main trait, so I think she should combine both" she explained, coloring her design with colored pencils. "I think something like this would be perfect for her" she showed him her sketchbook and he was impressed. “As for Juleka-” She continued, turning to a blank page. “She’s so beautiful. I wish she didn’t cover her face so much, even if the mystery look is really attractive too…" She stopped drawing for a moment to admire the bassist on the screen. "Gosh- She's so gorgeous! I wish I was that beautiful” she commented.

“I think you’re even more beautiful than her, you know?” The blue-haired man casually said, and she shyly blushed with a 'no way' frantic arms movements. “What about the guitarist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“Luka Couffaine? OH LORD SHOW MERCY- Have you seen him? And his eyeliner? It should be ILLEGAL to be this HOT” She said, convinced.

“Hmmm… So you like him, huh?” He teased, his smile widening.

“Who doesn’t, really?” She shrugged. “He’s literally the SEXIEST man alive. His eye contact with the camera could kill! Oh, and whenever he gets shirtless on stage or photoshoots? GOD- I almost get a nosebleed EVERY FREAKING TIME! He's TOO DAMN HOT" She fanned herself at the image. "Don’t you agree?" She asked and he blinked twice. "You like him too, right? You have so many photos of them in your phone! I bet he’s making you question your sexuality too, like he does with all my friends! How could anyone resist those blue eyes and his manly features, his soft looking blue hair and- his tattoos..." She looked away from her seat neighbor's blue piercing eyes, and focused at the smartphone screen again, to a close-up photo of Kitty Section’s guitarist. "How did you get these close-up casual photos...?” she asked, and then she noticed the tattoo on his neck. She looked back and forth at the man seated next to her and the one in the picture. ‘It couldn't be, right…?’ And at that moment, when he had a knowing smile on his face- one she knew too well-, she realized who he was seated next to on the plane. Her eyes opened as big as plates and she overheated. He was smirking amusingly at her reaction. “You- You- You are-? Lu-Lu-Luk- It can’t be…”

He nodded to confirm her suspicions and her jaw fell to the floor. “Hi. I think I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Luka. But I think you already know that. It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckled, straightening his hand for a handshake.

“Oh God, kill me now...” She mumbled, sinking on the table. Luka snickered.

“What’s your name?”

“Ma-Ma-Marinette… I mean- Marinette!” She felt his eyes on her and panicked. “Excuse me- I- I need a moment... This- This is too much- Oh My God...” She stood up and rushed to the end of the plane, not without tripping twice on her way there.

________________________

While Marinette was gone, the two ladies in front of Luka and Marinette’s seats turned to Luka. “Having fun?” They smirked, knowingly. He was chuckling, having real trouble to keep his laugh from escaping.

“Oh, God, Yes. This is so much fun." He wiped the tears that were forming on his eyes. "I think I’ve found our potential new costume designer” he continued laughing under his nose.

“Only that? I think there’s more...” Juleka smirked, and Rose giggled in agreement by her side. He couldn't deny it: his sister was totally right.

Behind Luka's seat, Kitty Section's drummer, Ivan and his girlfriend Mylene had been enjoying the show the blue-eyed pair had been giving. It was definitely more entertaining than any movie. It would have been perfect if they had popcorn to accompany their fortunate first row seats to the hilarious show. They also approved Marinette's designs.

Luka took the chance Marinette wasn't there to freely stand up, go talk to their managers and stretch his legs for a bit.

_________________________

Back at the end of the plane, Marinette drank some juice and moved to the bathroom. She was panicking in front of the mirror, talking to herself.

“OH. MY. GOD. I’m seated next to Luka Couffaine! For at least… 5 hours more!? And I just called him hot! And- And- he said I’m beautiful and talented! And- Oh my God, he asked me for commissions, right? This can’t be real- I-" her feet wiggled uncontrollably and she let out a long squeak. "Ahh… Calm down, Marinette! He’s human- A sexy human, but still human! He’s famous but very friendly, kind and nice. And fun! It’s going to be alright. Just- Avoid his eyes. That’s it. It’s dangerous. Don’t fall in love. You’re not a teenager anymore, you’re over that stage, right? Only a few hours more. You can do it. I CAN DO IT!” She convinced herself with a confident nod and returned to her seat, only to find Luka was gone.

She looked for him from her seat, at her surroundings, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed in both relief and sadness as she seated.

For some reason, she was missing him. Which was stupid, considering they had just met! But his company was certainly enjoyable... And, moreover, it was FUN. More than she ever remembered having. And not only because she was passionate about fashion or music. It had to do with his aura, his personality, his gentle manners- just... Luka.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment” A voice said from in front of her. “My brother is stupid, but he’s a decent person. Treat him well” The purple haired lady winked, beside a petit blond lady.

“Jul-!” She covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from yelling her name. “And Rose-!?” 'Oh, no! They might have heard what I said too!' She panicked again and the ladies giggled amused.

“Ignore my sister and her girlfriend” Luka returned, and her face flustered when she noticed how tall and well built he was (not that she didn't know that, but it hit differently in first person). “Can I get back to my seat?” He politely asked, pointing at the window seat.

“Ah-! Yes! Of course!” She stood up so suddenly she tripped and fell on Luka’s chest. She immediately moved away in embarrassment, falling back instead, and Luka had to hold her again to avoid her imminent fall. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you ok?” He asked in concern, and she shyly nodded. Luka reluctantly let go of her and returned to his seat and Marinette settled back to hers.

Wait- Was that a blush on his face?

“Here” Luka offered her an envelope. “I don’t know what your plans in NY are but, here’s a VIP pass to our concert next Sunday. There’s also our contact card inside. I want you to consider the idea of working for us. Your costumes are impressive. We discussed it, and we want you in our team” Marinette had no words- totally speechless. Could she be this lucky? “What do you say?” Luka asked with a hopeful tender smile that made her weak.

“I- I’ll think about it. And- Oh God- I’ll totally be there for your concert” She blushed and Luka smiled kindly at her. Suddenly, she started searching inside her backpack, and took out a business card she offered him. “This is my contact. I- I have a fashion event next Monday. I would love you to come, if you can make it. Send me an email and I’ll get you some passes”

“Wow! That's impressive. I'll try to make it. Thank you, Marinette”

Marinette could hear her heart beating faster. No looking in his eyes, dammit. They kept talking for a while, enjoying their time together until they fell asleep out of exhaustion, Marinette’s head resting on Luka’s shoulder. He woke up earlier than her, but didn’t have the heart to wake her up until lunchtime. She looked like she really needed that rest.

When he left half of his lunch untouched, Marinette scolded him. “You have to eat! You’re too thin! Those abs and arms need consistency! Proteins!” She pointed at a photo of him shirtless and flustered again in embarrassment in realization. “Ah-”

Gosh- it really was fun, Luka thought, chucking. It was hard not to laugh out loud. Everything flowed so naturally it was unbelievable.

Damn. He didn’t want the plane to ever land.

“Marinette” he called, during their coffee time, and she looked back at him, redness still on her cheeks. “The plane will land soon but- Even if you don’t accept our offer… Is it possible for us to meet again? Out of business? Like this?”

Marinette flustered at his implications. “Do- Do you mean-?”

“A date. Would you go on a date with me, Marinette? Or just as friends, if you prefer. I like you, and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun with anyone else” He took Marinette’s pen and one of his ‘Kitty Section’ contact cards and wrote something behind it. “These are my personal telephone number and email. We'll be in NY until Friday next week. It would make me very happy if you contact me, whenever you prefer, anytime” He said, securing the card in her hands.

Marinette blushed, looked at the card with glowing eyes, and then at his honest loving stare. Was it even possible that the man everyone was gushing about was asking her out? But this had nothing to do with his stage persona. Luka was someone she more than enjoyed spending time with. Naturally, quietly, assuring… She had no doubts about her answer.

“I want to meet you again, too” she stated, and wrote her personal number under his wristband. “I’m free on Wednesday” she shyly smiled, and his smile widened.

“Wednesday is it, then. I'll manage to find the time. Just for you." He smiled happily and only then she realized how deep she had fallen.

Ah- she hadn't wanted to fall in love. What a way to fail her own determination… But she couldn't complain, not at all.

And he felt the same way.

Luka and Marinette's hands locked together, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes, smiling at each other.

“Why don’t you kiss her already, dumbass?” Juleka called, and Marinette blushed. “He won’t kiss you if you don’t give him proper permission, you know? He’s very considerate despite his looks. Tell him already”

“Jules… Why don’t you mind your business and make out with Rose instead?” He shushed his sister and Rose giggled, embracing Juleka. Luka returned his attention to Marinette. “Sorry about that”

“It’s ok… I-” She started, looking at his thin lips. “Will you kiss me if I want to? Because I think I do...”

“You do?” he asked, and she shyly nodded and he smiled softly, making her heart flutter.

She closed her eyes and he leaned closer to give her a sweet kiss on her cheek. She pouted a little, in disappointment, but he told her that, if she really wanted to kiss him, that would be the perfect excuse to meet him again and make it more special, like a beautiful lady like her deserved. Marinette understood his reasoning and agreed with it, despite the slight disappointment she felt she would have to wait a few days to get the chance to kiss him. Nevertheless, both of them happily smiled while their fingers remained interlaced, chatting and enjoying their time together the rest of the flight, until the plane landed and they had to unavoidably say their farewells.

“Thank you for everything, Luka. I forgot how scared I was of planes thanks to you and- I’ll see you soon?”

“I really hope so. I still owe you something, right?" He winked and she blushed happily. Luka gave her a final discreet and quick kiss on her knuckles. "Gosh- I miss you already...” He added, and Marinette felt the urge to cry. She dropped her bag to hold him in a needed embrace. He gladly reciprocated her gesture. Despite neither wanting to separate, they forced themselves to. "I hope I see you soon, Marinette"

"Me too, Luka…" she wiped her tears and waved, as the band started walking away.

When the arrivals doors opened and all the camera flashes blinded her, she understood why Kitty Section members always wore sunglasses in airports. They were more popular than she could have expected. She understood why he had refused to kiss her outside of the plane, but he still saluted her before disappearing in the multitude of fans and paparazzis.

On the other side, Sabrina, Audrey Bourgeois’ assistant, waited for her. She had almost forgotten about her own business. But now, she found the motivation she had lacked. If she was willing to be with Luka, she had to become the best. She wanted to make a name of herself, more than ever. And her meeting with Luka certainly boosted her confidence.

Unexpectedly, her trip to NY had already become one of her most memorable experiences yet. And it had just started! She couldn't wait to spend the rest of the week in the city.

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lbsc sprint fic #lbsc sprint fic challenge #LBSC sprint challenge #lukanette fic #Pro LukaMari #endgame lukanette #nevermind the title- i'm super bad at them #I kinda want to write part 2 #but I don't need more WIPs ;v;#I need to finish them instead Dammit XD

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goddamnitdazai · 3 years

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Doldrums | Dazai {AU}

The Tea House is the only clean place in all of the three outlying territories; the capital and castle are overflowing with gold. There's boredom in both places and freedom in neither. Dazai finds the only way to amuse himself and you're just curious enough to agree. {fic under the cut} [ao3 link] x [patreon]

The long reign of the king ended unexpectedly. Within the first few months of the king’s death, the prodigal heir to the throne was crowned the one-hundred-and-fifteen King of Tartalya. Despite what the royal family toted to the public the new king only resembled his father in strategical demeanor. The prince’s (now king) features were prominent and sharp whereas the previous king had cheeks still plump with baby fat and a wide smile. Prince Osamu never smiled; that was the rumor anyway.

Per Tartalya tradition the new king was married within the first month of his new position. His wife, the dutchess of a rich port territory, fawned over him endlessly. A polished depiction of what Tartalya’s queen should be. Sweet, humble, and above all else, proper. Tartalya’s prior king required indisputable perfection within his court and their partners. Any imperfections were snuffed out quicker than a strong wind extinguishes a candle. The ruthless king’s only heir was no exception to these strict expectations; a rumor from the high court states the prince’s wife was picked when they were both ten years old due to her bloodline, manners, and demeanor. Rumors from the high courts were often stretched and dissected until they resembled fables, but there was truth to some extent. That is what you were taught to believe anyway. Take the words of a man with as you would an ill-cooked gift; chew with conviction then spit it out when their back is turned. You were taught this of all rumors and of all men. Of the region claimed by Tarayla’s century-old monarch, only three territories have been allowed to rule without direct sanctions from the high court or prince. They are considered the dark outliers in both qualities of life and the quality of inhabitants. These three territories provide shelter for merchants coming to port looking to gamble and drink, criminals from other territories seeking asylum, and those who are not able to afford a single room within the cheapest region of Tartayla’s kingdom. Like many of the other inhabitants born in Valnnin, your mother chose to leave you at the Tea House under the care of the Ozaki clan the day after you’d turned five. She was paid a handsome fee and signed a contract never to return to the Tea House. Supposedly, many women bear children simply to drop them at the Tea House for the reward. That rumor was not hard to believe given the state of Valnnin. Decent money offered the means to escape Valnnin to the closest region in Tartayla, Soinet, where large farms sit on rolling green hills lush with purple fruit that grows plentiful on tall trees. Anyone who made it out of Valnnin stayed out; by starvation or success. A part of you hoped your mother starved. There are worse fates in Valnnin than the Ozaki’s Tea House, though. Bred with a sharp wit and long cherry-red hair the Ozaki clan were well known all over Tartayla for their refined charisma and elegant beauty. Some of these traits were able to be passed on to the right young men and women making the courtesans of the Tea House the highest priced commodity in all of the three territories. Top earners are allowed to live in the lavish rooms on the top floor of the Tea House. The Ozaki house, a four-tier traditional home lit with gold paper lanterns and endless vines wrapped over a cobblestone bridge, sits across the Tea House. The watchful guardian for the inhabitants of the Tea House. Other than becoming part of a legacy family in Valnnin, like the Ozaki, the best living was at the top of the Tea House. Residing in the middle, for now, was comfortable enough. “___, dear you’re staring.’ Kouyou tuts, whacking your knee with her lace fan. When her fan is fully spread the gold filigree becomes a long winding dragon sifting through the clouds. A well-known symbol of the Ozaki clan. The dragon is imprinted throughout the Tea House and stamped on the inside of each girl’s wrist in gold ink. Ownership and protection, that is what they preached while poking your skin with a hot needle. “Is that potted ivy really that intriguing? It must be with how rude you’re being during our conversation.” Her long manicured nail brushes over your nose to draw your attention. Her touch instantaneously forces your shoulders to go rigid as your eyes drop to your lap. Kouyou’s sharp nails bite at your jawline. “Don’t be rude to our company tonight. Understood?” You nod, wincing a bit at her grip. Kouyou-san only showed this type of intensity with newer girls in order to hammer in the traditions of the Tea House. You, however, had been here for fifteen long years and knew every twist and turn. Your familiarity had risen to the point that you and the other girls made wages on some of the staff’s mood based on an eyebrow quirk or tense knuckle. For the most part, you won each round. Kouyou-san did insist your looks and keen eye made for a high commodity, however, the blessings around your features were not as god-like as some of the girls. You were sure they came from a line of Queens and Goddesses long before humanity stomped over the grasslands. “Kouyou-san, I don’t understand why you won’t inform me who I am waiting for.” You shift uncomfortably in your silk robe. The pillow beneath your knees had become a hardened lump of clay that was sure to leave bruises. “Using the gold room is above my station.” “It is.” Kouyou agrees without an ounce of hesitation. If you were allowed to show your true emotions a dark frown laden with knitted brows would be reflecting back at Kouyou. Tea house manners forbade any type of backtalk, verbal or otherwise, toward the ladies of the house. It had been a long time since your feet had been whipped into a bloody mess due to your expressions. “You should be thankful a man of high caliber is interested in your company.” You exhale through your nose and adjust the pillow subtly just for something to grab and ease the tension rising up your spine. The golden room was incredibly expensive and reserved for foreign clientele or a man rich enough to buy the country twice over. What you could gather from the maids who set the room was scarcely what you could consider good information but their gossiping mouths let out that the changes were due to the man’s incredibly specific taste. Instead of immaculate gaudy golden candles, simple paper lanterns were hung in shades of red that bounced off the polished wood walls. The marble table had been replaced with a smaller traditional one stacked high with poker chips and two crystal glasses. A bottle of imported whisky more expensive than the entirety of Valnnin had been staring back at you for the better part of an hour. Jewels from all over the country were heaped into woven baskets spilling out their glittering gemstones of blues, pinks, reds, and purples. One stone looked as big as your palm. Within the baskets, bracelets, and necklaces sparkle and hang over the rim like a used handkerchief tossed in the garbage. Money can’t buy taste, you think to yourself, though you wouldn’t mind pocketing some of those jewels to sell later. Abruptly the double doors open and the lanterns are snuffed out. Above your head dangles an imported odd-shaped light with arms extending outwards holding each white candle as if it were trying to scorch the walls. Kouyou stands to greet the unknown guest. Gliding across the wooden floor as a swan crosses a lake. You remain perfectly poised. Long red dress stretching out your arms to pool against your thighs. The Tea House provided silk garments for expensive clients that showed skin without being over-zealous. A strong dip in the back revealing your spine for wandering fingers. Bare shoulders for teeth to graze and tease. Your lips had been painted deep red to accentuate a pout worthy of a diamond necklace. Beyond Kouyou’s tall stance you barely make out the rough edges of a man much taller than Kouyou. “Enjoy your time, sir. Please, let me know if I can do anything to be more accommodating.” Kouyou’s bow is deep and longer than usual. The man doesn’t bow back. The guards that had accompanied him to the golden room remain on the other side of the screen door once it’s closed, another uncommon occurrence. You get to your feet and walk towards the man in the same manner Kouyou did. You’d done this a hundred times. A thousand. Something high up, but there was an odd sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. Circling the pit of your belly like a serpent through the grass. “Good evening. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with? I’m afraid my tongue has gone numb in excitement.” The man chuckles and takes a step forward; you take in his form with a simple blink. His hair is an unruly slue of dark browns overlapping each other held back by a deep ruby pin, an odd style but the capital tended to couple foreign fashion with traditional garments. The stranger is incredibly tall, thin, wearing traditional Tartayla clothing though the crest on his lapel doesn’t ring a bell. It did not mirror the crests members of the court wore nor the men stationed beneath them. Scribes, military, footmen, all members of the palace wore crests revealing their status to the world. A palace aid, even, would be able to afford the golden room for a night. “That’s a lie.” He takes another few steps towards you. Swift. His long legs easily bring him close enough for you to smell his cologne. Expensive and foreign. “I specifically told Ozaki not to speak my name. A clever way to ask without asking.” You blink rapidly but hold your ground, folding your hands politely in front of your thighs. His stare is honey lined with liquid gold. “As expected of a woman raised in the Tea House.” “I did not want to seem ill-prepared.” You finally answer, “It is uncommon to not know the name of my companion prior to meeting.” Nicknames--you roll through the most requested, but none of them fit. He bends a bit, you expect a hand on your cheek or your chin; he grips your throat. Contracting your airways with an eerily gentle touch. “You can address me as Dazai, nothing else.” His gaze remains ice cold. Something about the name bubbles up and up until your mouth unintentionally drops open just enough to let out a silent gasp. Prince Dazai. If he would let go of your chin you could bow to him but he anchors himself to the ground. “Ah, there it is. I can let go that you did not recognize me considering we let the territories exist as an extension. Not much royalty passing through here? What a scandal~”. He releases your jaw and walks over to the table in the center of the room. Out of instinct, you follow behind with your head bowed just slightly. What would the prince be doing here? You presumed when royal blood desired the flesh of someone else other than their betrothed they found it easily among the many women of the court. “Dazai, what is it you desire tonight?” Common phrases of your trade finally return once your tongue has melted off the shock. “Business.” He states, taking a seat on the plush pillows. “Come, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” Dazai pats his hand on his lap as he speaks. You follow his command and walk yourself to his lap. The scent of him is overwhelmingly pleasing in comparison to the other men that have requested this position. With your back against his chest, you can feel the ruffle of fabric on your bare skin from his vest, it’s an interesting sensation. You’d never felt this type of material before. “Now,” Dazai starts voice a rich smoky tenor, “you will come with me to the capital and sit just like this. You won’t speak, you won’t move, you won’t do a thing except look as you do now.” He drags his knuckles down your spine. “All you need to know is that. What lies in this room,” he lazily gestures to the jewels in the collapsing baskets, “will be your payment.” All you can do is nod dumbly. What the hell did he want you at the capital for? To be a lap ornament? What a strange request. You want to say no, to tell him you’re much more than a porcelain doll to play with. Your wit and charm has made you the favorite of so many men of his own court. Dazai presses his nose to the curve between your throat and shoulder. “You may ask one question but make it quick, I dislike having to ride home during the day.” Dazai gave you information without giving you detail. The bare-bones without an explanation or purpose, but he was the prince. You couldn’t pester him for more like your regulars who gave vague requests--of which you denied regardless of what it was. Taking a courtesan out of the Tea House was strictly forbidden. There was no amount that would interest the Ozaki women to allow their charges to leave the premises with a client. Every person had their price, though, it should have been obvious considering your line of work. “Am I to be a lap ornament for your entertainment or to prove a point to another person?” Dazai pauses his hand on your spine. For a moment your heart freezes--until he begins to laugh. Harmonious and cheerful, it almost sounds sweet but the tingle in your spine tells you otherwise. “Both,” Dazai places his hand on your thigh giving the soft flesh a tight squeeze, “but the latter. I don’t find very much of this world entertaining in the slightest.” Abruptly his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his hand wanders beneath your silk dress finding the edge of your hipbone. “This is just to waste time.” __________________________ Jealousy was not something prince Dazai experienced. However, the man across from you seemed to be dripping green with it. You vaguely recognized him, a court-appointed general from the land across the sea. The name escaped you, anytime he appeared at the Tea House for your attention his words sank to the bottom of your consciousness. His conversation was as dull and his hands were fat with sausage-like fingers that didn’t know how to properly undo the knots that held your dress together at the side. He never had enough money other than to converse for twenty minutes and stare at your nude body. Prior to the meeting, Dazai had walked you through the main courtyard filled lined with enormous evergreen trees and rose bushes taller than your shoulders. Members of the royal court bowed and held their tongues as you passed. Your clothing served as a clear indicator of your position in the Tea House. Dazai had made it a point to dress you in the most elegant outfit the Tea House allowed. Draped in gold and black with hints of deep scarlet beneath the split up your thigh. The palace was, unsurprisingly, massive in size and stature. Getting lost for hours within its corridors and monumental rooms seemed inevitable. Had Dazai let you wander from his side. “Do not speak or move without my permission.” His only warning punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass. While the meeting went on Dazai’s hands grew increasingly curious in tandem with his ever-rising boredom. Beneath the table, his fingers roamed between your legs never touching where you wanted. They drew teasing circles just outside your lower lips. Dug crescents into the meat of your inner thighs. The longer the meeting went on the higher his hands reached. Inside the deep cut of your dress to squeeze your breast while he spoke about the outcome of a fictional war the general had threatened, apparently. Something about trade prices rising. Anything happening beyond Dazai’s grip wasn’t sticking to your psyche. By the time the meeting was finished sweat was beading down the back of your neck. Your cheeks had grown hot to the touch and your clit was aching for touch. Dazai simply stood expecting you to catch yourself. “You will not be returning to the Tea House.” It was all he said before two guards escorted you down a long corridor lined with paintings of the royal bloodline. ___________________________________ The first time he fucked you the moon had appeared in splendor. Bright and bold against dark skies empty of stares and clouds. His wife had requested him to come to bed early. Her long dark hair falling in gentle curls illuminated by the candelabra she held in her fist. You watched from the corner of his study as Dazai used that talented tongue of his to herd her back to bed. Once the door was shut and locked with a metal key Dazai bent you over his desk and fucked you deep and slow. He left bite marks on your neck and laughed when you begged so pathetically to cum around his cock. At first, there was nothing inside him. No emotion to his touch and no passion beyond the carnal desire to fuck you when he needed release. His wife would often stare at you when you passed in the corridors trying to find some sort of entertainment. You had heard nothing of your position at the palace nor had anyone questioned your existence there. Dazai demanded you stay within his sights at all times and would punish you with hard slaps to your bare ass when you wandered too far. He was the softest after he left a red handprint on your behind. He’d cradle you in his arms and call you pretty things like a lover would. It only served to deepen your confusion in both your own feelings for him and what he wanted out of your existence in his life. _______________________________________ The queen’s illness came on rapidly and without a cause. She was pale with a fever and sickly looking. Her skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes looked glass. Nothing the doctors were doing had made a difference. She existed on her large bed surrounded by basins of water and broth, her ladies in waiting rotated washing her and feeding her the best they could. She couldn’t move on her own accord except to speak in a low muddled voice. Dazai did not visit her often. After a week she had been moved to her own room down two corridors and across from the King’s quarters. The bed was burned and the room scrubbed clean until it glistened. Dazai didn’t ask, he never did. When your room turned up empty you knew to find him in his quarters. His long legs propped up on the ottoman beside the window, fingers over his favorite book gifted by a friend long gone from this world. His touch had become gentle in the past few weeks. You presumed, at first, it was due to his grieving and perhaps guilt for the affair. Yet he did not change the frequency in which he kissed you, fucked you, held you against his chest for a few minutes before he eventually left the bed to finish whatever work he’d thrown across the floor when he grew too aggravated or bored. Nights he wanted to fall off the edge of the world he tied your hands to the bed and played with your body until sunrise. Dazai left his mark where he pleased. Nothing felt as good as his hands, his attention, his tongue. Rarely did he ever keep himself on top. No, he expected you to ride him. Make him cum while he watched you grow addicted to the feeling of his cock inside of you. ______________________ Dazai had to produce an heir, he said, one morning while you’d been eating breakfast at his side. His wife could not fulfill that duty while sick. You pause for a moment and set your glass down. Looking at him as the sun rises behind his head. “You know I can’t have children.” Part of the process of becoming part of the Tea House; everyone went through the procedure. “What do you plan to do?” Dazai wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do?” He places his elbows on the table and folds his fingers beneath his chin. That same gaze from the day you met him in the golden room returning to douse you in something unsettling. You blink at him and lean back in your chair. “As long as the queen remains alive you are not able to marry another. You will be expected to wait to have a child with your wife when she is well again.” Dazai tilts his head. “I don’t want children.” He says nonchalantly. “Dazai..” What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do? “Dazai.” His grin spreads wide, eyes darkening despite the light from the windows splashing halycon all over the room. “Eat up, _____. I’m growing bored.”

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