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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 1

all trussed up and still nowhere to go

“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2

warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation

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Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.

But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?

Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.

The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.

It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.

So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of.

And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.

For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours.

Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.

Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.

He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick.

A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily.

But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.

“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”

Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain.

“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”

Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.

“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”

She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.

There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.

He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.

He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.

But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.

“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”

His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat.

“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”

Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.

Calamity Ganon was obeying her.

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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

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fantasmalresplendent · 3 years

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Dean died at the ripe old age of 85.

In his lucid moments during the days leading up to his passing, in which Dean was just as sharp and as bright as he was fifty years ago, he remarked that people must think he’d robbed the cradle with a “hot piece” such as Castiel hanging around him.

“You don’t mind that I’m a wrinkly, senile, crotchety old bastard?” Dean had asked, more than once, but he had always said it with a smile. And Castiel would smile back, replying with the same answer the answer many times, in many ways:

“You’re not senile.”

“Old, but not a bastard.”

“I thought I was the crotchety one.”

“I don’t mind.”

Then Dean would smile, and it would light up the room, and Castiel would wonder again how he came to deserve the focus, let alone the affection, of such a man.

“It’s not about deserving, Cas,” Dean had said, half-whispered in the middle of the night a few short months after they had begun to share the bed they laid in. “It’s… fuck, well I don’t know what it’s about. But people don’t get what they deserve, not most of the time.”

Castiel frowned, furrowing his brows. “They should,” he grumbled.

“Well if people got what they deserved, they’d… I don’t know, Sam would’ve actually become a lawyer, stayed in school. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, they’d all still be here. I’d get mauled by a werewolf or something, go out with a bang, and Baby,” Dean said sternly, as though chastising the universe itself for such an injustice, “Would never get so much as a scratch on her.”

“You think that’s what you deserve?” Castiel’s voice was soft, not wanting to disturb the still of the night, but steely as he considered even the possibility of Dean’s violent end.

Dean registered that, swallowing, “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I’d even make it this far. Hunters have the shortest lifespans of any human subspecies,” Dean cracked a smile, but his heart wasn’t in the joke. Castiel knew Dean was doing the math in his head. He knew Dean was mentally recalling how long it had been since Bobby left for heaven. Tallying up the number of people who were gone because of self-sacrifice, mistakes, pure dumb luck. Counting exactly how many years he had outlived his own mother.

Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean then, embracing him, surrounding him, and they curled into each other completely. Burying himself in Castiel’s neck, Dean had never felt so close to him, and yet so far away. “You don’t have to follow the same patterns if you don’t want to, Dean,” Castiel stated, as if it were that easy. “Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get mauled by a werewolf?”

Dean sniffed in laughter, and that was answer enough.

Castiel found himself stroking Dean’s hair, an action he felt suited him. He thought for a moment in the stillness and in the space between their breaths. “Maybe it’s idealistic of me, but I still think people should get what they deserve. Even- no, especially you.”

Dean took his time answering, opening his mouth several times before actually saying, “Sometimes I don’t think I know what I deserve.”

“I guess we’ll just have to figure that out together then. We have time,” Castiel kissed Dean’s forehead and he sighed at the touch. “We have plenty of time. Heaven will wait for you, no matter how long.”

Dean looked up at him then with a pout, “You sound pretty confident in that statement for a dude who hasn’t shown up to heavenly chorus practice in a few years.”

Castiel smiled, “I’d rather be here with you. Always have.”

The man blushed. “Well, if I go… I mean, wherever I go… Where will you end up?”

“I could go with you.”

“Where?”

Castiel closed the distance between them fully, thumbing across Dean’s cheek as they kissed. “Anywhere. If you want me there, I will be there, whether it’s here or heaven. I’ll be there.”

“For how long?”

“For however long you want me to be.”

Dean kissed back, his fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sam went not long after Dean. It wasn’t a surprise; it was his time as well. His children were grown, his grandchildren almost grown, Castiel knew they’d miss him but that they’d be all right. And they knew to call on “Uncle Cas” if they weren’t, even the little ones who didn’t understand exactly how they were related, or why Great Uncle Dean's husband was only about as old as their parents.

“I mean I love the little gremlins,” Dean had said, cracking open a beer after a long few days of babysitting Sam and Eileen's girls while the expecting parents were in the hospital. He was exhausted, they both were, but beaming from meeting the newest member of the Winchester clan: a healthy baby boy named Robert. “But have you seen Sam’s house? Goddamn mess in there.”

“You… don’t want to have some of your own?” Castiel had asked carefully, taking the beer Dean held out for him.

“You’re making them sound like trading cards. I don’t know, I- I guess I never thought too hard about it.” Castiel could tell this was a lie by the way Dean didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if I had one.”

“Do you think you’d be a good father?”

Castiel had met John Winchester, in Hell. Well, he hadn’t exactly met him. He had really only passed by John’s cell, stole a glance at the infamous hunter on his way to retrieve Dean’s soul. He’d never told Dean what he saw, they were not close enough at the time. He wasn’t sure if Dean would even want to know. Castiel had almost spoken about it many times, but whenever Dean talked about John, “Dad,” a look crossed over his face, sometimes for only a second. A furrowing of brows, a tight smile, a quick transition to happier subjects.

The same look crossed over Dean’s face as soon as Castiel had asked the question.

“Wow. Um, loaded question there, Cas.”

He waited for Dean to meet his eyes before continuing, “I think you would be.”

“Do- wait,” Dean shook his head, trying to understand where Castiel was going with all of this, “Do you want kids?”

“I want you to live a normal life, Dean. I want to be able to give you what you want.”

“Okay, lots of stuff to unpack here. First of all, a normal life isn’t and never was an option,” Dean leaned back against the counter, “I think we can agree on that. Second of all, you didn’t answer my question.”

“...And third of all?” Castiel prompted.

“No, second of all first. Do you want kids?”

Castiel sighed, taking a swig of his beer, considering his words. “I’m an angel, Dean-”

“Is that so!” Dean raised his eyebrows, then squinted as if in deep thought, “Weird, somehow I never noticed.”

That deserved a well-placed eyeroll, but Castiel still had a point to make. “We don’t- I’m just trying to…” he set his beer down. “I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that I would love and care for a child, if it were ours. If we decided that was something we wanted, I would be so happy to raise them, with you. I’d be terrified,” Castiel admitted, “At the enormous and important responsibility, but I would love doing it, if… if it was with you. I just want you to know that, I guess,” Castiel shrugged, “I don’t want you to think it’s not an option for us, if you want it to be.”

“Okay…” Dean was thinking, swirling the beer around his glass. He pointed the mouth at Castiel, “You’re still avoiding my question,” Castiel really rolled his eyes this time, “But I don’t really think it’s for me, all that white picket fence stuff. If you really wanted a kid, I would definitely hit the library and read all those, I don’t know, fucking parenting guides, and take the Mommy and Me classes, whatever. And I think you’d be a good father, better than me, I’d just let them eat gummy worms and shoot slingshots.”

“Children love gummy worms. They listen and will behave better when offered gummy worms,” Castiel knew this for a fact from very recent personal experience, “I don’t see how gummy worms could pose an issue. Slingshots, however-”

“Okay so maybe I’m overestimating your abilities a little,” Dean held up a hand, “But still, I… I like this,” he gestured to the space between them and around them, “I like us. I like waking up to a clean kitchen and sleeping in on weekends. I like not having to ask more than one person whether or not I can take a drive by myself or crank my music really loud at midnight. And I fucking hate Paw Patrol.”

Castiel smiled.

“Sam and Eileen always need babysitters. That’s good enough for me right now.”

“You’ll tell me though, if this is something you really want,” Castiel insisted, “If you think about it and decide something else.”

“Sure.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, fine, I promise,” Dean took a step forward and leaned in for a kiss then. Castiel could taste the beer on Dean’s tongue and sighed. Dean smiled against Castiel’s lips, lowering his voice to a comical level, “We could, uh, you know, try and make some babies,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Castiel pushed Dean’s laughing face away, but grabbed his hand, turning towards their room.

They hadn’t spoken about it again, not seriously anyway. They got a dog. Dean opened a vintage car garage. Castiel learned how to bake. They took long road trips to the beaches in California, wandered through roadside attractions like Carhenge in Nebraska and Cadillac Ranch in Texas. They bought decidedly way too much merchandise at Oklahoma’s National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. And maybe they killed the occasional vampire, the wayward poltergeist, but the occasions became less and less. There were younger, more spry hunters on the road now, always welcome at the bunker to look through their library or ask advice on a particularly troublesome spirit. Sam even coerced Dean into holding what became a yearly “conference,” “What are we, a tech startup?” for the next generation of hunters to learn from the legendary brothers.

So maybe they spent more time at home than on the road, but home suited them. Routine suited them like Castiel never could have predicted it would. It wasn’t a white picket fence, but it wasn’t a lonely highway either. Dean would joke about how “boring” they’d become, but Castiel reveled in the repetition. The three hundredth time Dean brought Castiel coffee in bed was just as lovely as the third. The five hundredth time Castiel cooked dinner passed without fanfare, though Dean hugging him from behind, chin hooked over Castiel’s shoulder as he whisked, felt like fanfare enough. The one thousandth kiss they shared was in their bed, lazily breathing each other in as the first beams of sunlight shone through the window after a week of straight rain. Home, a thing he and Dean had never known in their youth, held the majority of their most precious, most banal memories. But still, Castiel always looked forward to those moments speeding down a desert highway when Dean would reach for his hand, turn his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, and smile.

Time took its time with them.

It seemed the opposite with Sam’s children, who grew up faster than Castiel could keep track of. And as they grew from waddling toddlers to full-fledged human beings, Castiel was fascinated, enamored, but Dean was simply proud. He attended their tournaments, their decathlons. He went to their graduations, weddings, barbecues, and Castiel went with him. They took the kids to concerts and movies, parks and shooting ranges, and Castiel never got tired of the smile on Dean’s face when they threw their small arms around Dean’s neck and called him their “Cool Uncle.” “Hear that, Cas? That means you’re the No Fun Uncle. The No-Funcle.”

And as the crowned Cool Uncle, he teased Sam mercilessly about his minivan and his “#1 Dad” mugs, but Castiel knew how proud Dean was of him too. How glad he was that Sam got the future he wanted, and how grateful he was that that future included him.

The brothers still fought. They still bickered, pranked, and glowered. Sam complained that Dean let his kids use power tools too young when they visited, and Dean complained that Sam’s kids were too old to have never heard “Stairway to Heaven.” The usual, the routine, many times over. But they never lied to each other, at least not about the important things, not anymore. And Castiel was welcome in Sam and Eileen’s house and lives, an honor he felt he didn’t deserve, but as Dean said, maybe it wasn’t about deserving.

It was Eileen who noticed Castiel first as he entered the hospital room the day he'd been informed that Sam Winchester was finally coming home. He didn't have to tell Eileen; she saw it on Castiel's face. They’d already spoken, he’d prepared her for the eventuality a few days prior. Eileen smiled, looking back at her husband, teasing him lightly, but Castiel knew she was holding back on her usual snark because Sam looked, well, tired. Turning away from Sam, Eileen signed, “Are you here for him?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, but someone will be here soon.”

“You mean they haven’t given you reaper duty yet?” Sam joked from his horizontal position, speaking and signing with his usual quick wit, but not with his usual articulation. Castiel had seen him argue with Dean for fifty years like it was his job, he was accustomed to the precision with which Sam had always wielded his words. Not today.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Castiel stepped closer so that Sam wouldn’t have to crane his head, “I’m not very persuasive.”

“No kidding,” Sam shakily clasped Castiel’s hand and grinned. “I’m surprised Dean even went with you.”

“It took less persuading than you’d think.”

“How is he?” Eileen asked, but she was smiling, so she knew the answer.

“He’s good,” Castiel smiled back, “Getting what he deserves.”

Sam smirked, but his head sunk back into his pillow as if relieved. “And I bet he’s complaining about it non-stop. Asshole never knew how to take a vacation.”

“Neither do you,” Eileen levelled her husband with a fond look.

“We’ve taken vacations!”

“You always wanted to go somewhere exotic and then you’d just end up in the library. Remember Berlin?”

“They had… well I wasn’t going to find those editions in America, and-”

Sam and Eileen bickered for a bit, and Castiel did end up backing Eileen’s points more often than not, so eventually Sam recognized that he was outnumbered on this particular case.

Castiel bid his goodbyes just in time as the nurse entered the room to check Sam’s vitals. Her tone was cheerful, but Castiel could tell that she too knew what was coming.

“Well… I’ll see you soon, buddy, huh?” Sam smiled at Castiel as confidently as he could muster for Eileen’s sake, but Castiel knew behind those laugh lines Sam wasn’t so sure of himself. Castiel supposed that worry wasn’t to be unexpected from a chosen one of Hell, Lucifer's vessel, the boy Castiel had once called an “abomination.”

But Castiel smiled, giving Sam’s shoulder one last firm squeeze. “You will.”

When Dean died, at the ripe old age of 85, he knew what to expect.

He’d visited heaven before. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Not an exciting place, but exciting wasn’t necessarily good. Hell had been exciting, and he was in no hurry to return there. Purgatory had been exciting in a different way, years later he swore the stench still lingered on his skin. Sometimes, when he would lose himself in his “senior moments,” he thought he was back in that bloody in between. Or back in hell. Or had gone to heaven. “Times and places are difficult to navigate when your brain’s turning into gummy worms,” he told Cas once. He didn’t remember saying this a few hours later, but that didn’t make it any less true.

His brain was sure full of them gummy worms now as he clung to his body and to his life. He wasn’t completely sure where he was. Bobby’s? The bunker? His childhood home? Sammy had come to see him earlier, at least the kid had looked like Sammy… No, fuck, that was his grand-nephew, Cas had reminded him of that. Sam, his brother Sam, was in the next room. That's right, he’d told the asshole to give him some space, stop smothering him. He sort of wished he was here now though. And Cas, Cas was here, he knew that, but only because the angel was right in front of him. Cas, his friend, was holding Dean’s hand, talking about what their grand-nieces and nephews were doing in school. Dean could swear he already knew these things, but they still sounded new when Cas said them.

Dean looked over at him, and Cas was smiling.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Cas helped him swallow some cool water. Dean cleared his throat, “Bet you’ve been waiting for this for a while.”

Castiel cocked his head, the smile fading. Fifty some odd years and he still had that same confused look. “Waiting for what?”

“Me to beef it, finally. I know this hasn’t been easy, watching me… seeing me like…” Dean took a shallow breath. “No matter where I go next, at least I won’t be a senile senior citizen.”

“Dean,” Cas said, rubbing the back of Dean’s liver spot-covered hand, “Please listen to me very carefully.”

“Got my hearing aids in, go ahead,” Dean joked.

Cas smiled softly again. “It has been the greatest privilege of my life, my existence, to watch you grow old. I feel honored that you allowed me to experience that. Time’s different for me too,” Cas kissed Dean’s hand, “Space and time were never precious to me, not in the stretch of infinity. Not until you. Not until I was able to see you live your life and live it well.”

Tears welled in the corners of Dean’s eyes. He furiously tried to blink them away, but Cas was already there, dabbing carefully with a handkerchief. “I’m… I’m scared, Cas. I know I shouldn’t be, I’ve seen it all. I’ve beefed it a few times already. But maybe that’s why I’m scared? Because… I know what comes next. What could come next. And this is it, right? No more resets?”

Cas nodded.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “If I don’t end up in heaven-”

“You will.”

“If I don’t, that’s fine, maybe it’s what I deserve, and that’s fair. But… will I see you again?”

“Dean,” Cas said sadly, but with his trademarked firmness, “You are going to paradise. And if for some reason, a completely incorrect and insane reason, you don’t? I dragged your soul out of the flames once, I will do it again. I would do it as many times as I needed to.”

Dean shook his head slightly, “Not fair.”

“It’s not about fair. It’s about the truth. Whether you believe it or not, ET goes home.”

Dean chuckled weakly. He was tired. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to let go so badly.

He felt the bed move as Cas climbed under the covers with him. The angel curled around him, enveloping him. Dean could swear he felt the brush of feathers cradling him and pulling him closer, but he couldn’t muster the ability to reach for them, stroke them like he used to. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll be here when you wake up. Wherever, whenever here is. That’s where I’ll be. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”

“Swear?”

Castiel kissed his forehead. “I swear.”

Dean opened his eyes.

The phrase, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” popped into his head, but he suspected, greatly, that he was, in fact, in Kansas. The blowing fields of wheat tipped him off to that.

No, wait. That wasn’t a field, it was a… sandy beach. It looked kind of like that beach he and Cas had stumbled upon driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, what was it called? The one where they’d had to hike down from the lookout point? The one where after they’d trudged back up the trail, they’d sat in the car and looked out over the sea as the sun set? The one where Castiel had smiled at him and the light glinted in his blue eyes and Dean had kissed Cas for the first time ever because he just couldn’t stop himself?

Muir Beach, Dean remembered, blushing at the memory.

But just as soon as he’d reached the end of that thought, it wasn’t the ocean anymore. It was a lake. On the lake was a pier. He’d seen that pier before, couldn’t remember exactly where though.

Then without warning, but without alarm, Dean saw someone standing on the end of the dock. A young man with light brown hair and a sweet smile Dean would recognize anywhere.

Jack waved, walking up casually, “Hey, Dean.”

Dean grinned and pulled him into a solid hug. “Jack. I missed you buddy, how have you been? Where, uh… are we in…”

Jack chucked, “I think you know where we are.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know know, this could… I could be dreaming or some shit, and I guess even in a dream you could say whatever I wanted you to say, so-”

“Dean,” Jack stopped him, “This is heaven. You are in heaven.”

A relieved but small smile spread over Dean’s face. “Cool…”

“I’m not usually here to meet people who pass on, but we weren’t going to miss your arrival.”

“We?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned around. There was Cas, beaming at him.

“Cas…” Dean reached to embrace him too, only now noticing that the hands that reached out were not as wrinkled as they’d been when he last saw them. He hugged Cas tightly, relieved more than he wanted to admit. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Cas’s hand went to Dean’s cheek, holding him in a kiss. They separated, foreheads resting against each other. Cas’s eyes twinkled, “We had an appointment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean took a step back, seeing Jack grinning out of the corner of his eye. “Is, uh… is anyone else coming? Or is this the welcoming party?”

“They’re all waiting for you,” Cas put his hand down, and as he did, it was stopped mid-air, as if resting on something solid. Dean blinked, and there was Baby, new as the day she was made, parked on a long, long road that stretched far out of sight. “Any time you’re ready,” Cas tossed something in Dean’s direction, “we can go.”

Dean caught the keys on instinct, they jingled on the simple ring.

Any time you’re ready, we can go.

He twirled them around the end of his finger a couple times, a thought itching at his brain. Or a couple dozen thoughts.

Cas gave him a look, then turned to Jack, “Could you give us a moment?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get everything ready,” Jack blipped out.

“Get what ready?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” he turned around to face Cas whose brows were knit in worry, bright blue eyes narrowed, “Are you okay?” Dean realized he hadn’t seen Cas clearly for a few years, not since before the cataracts. He’d never gotten completely used to that piercing gaze.

Dean blinked. “Yeah, I… I just… I’m here. Really here.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And… you’re here.”

Cas gave him that look like he was being patient on purpose, “Yes, Dean.”

“And… fuck,” Dean stood at sudden attention, “I left Sam down there, is he okay?”

Catching Dean's hands in his own, Cas rubbed comforting circles into Dean's skin. "Sam is fine. He was there when you left. That's why I was a little late, Eileen had only just gotten home and I didn't want to leave before she could be there beside him.

"Okay," Dean took a deep breath, concentrating on the physical contact, grounding himself in Cas’s movements, "Okay. I mean I know he's gonna be fine, he was always fine without me," Dean said, almost to himself.

"And you'll see him soon."

The abrupt return of Dean’s panicked look made Cas smile a little, shake his head, "Not that soon, Dean. Don't worry."

"Right. Of course, yeah,” Dean looked around, down the road, the back to his car, out past the waving grain that had returned inexplicably. “Well,” Dean flashed what he thought was a very convincing smile, letting Cas’s hands go as he tossed the keys once and caught them, heading towards the car, “Time to hit the road, huh?”

"Wait,” the suspicious squint was back as Cas caught Dean’s arm, “Something else is bothering you."

Dean turned around, and the ocean was back. The ocean he’d taken a trip to see, had selfishly insisted Cas come along for the ride for.

He sighed. "I just…” Dean ran a hand through his hair, “I don't know, I guess it just don't sit right that I’m… I'm gonna see Mom and Bobby and Jo and Charlie and… everyone. How am I going to look them in the face and not feel guilty that I got decades that they’ll never have? And what did I do with that time, sit on my ass? Judge local car shows? Go to freaking baseball games?"

Cas nodded slowly, simply listening. He then hopped up and sat on the hood of the Impala, shoes and all. Dean shot him an offended look.

“She’s a memory of a car, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “She isn’t going to dent.” He patted the spot next to him.

Dean hesitated, but under Cas’s stare, relented. When he was settled, Castiel laced their fingers together.

“I’ve been trying to convince you for all the time I’ve known you that you’re worthy. That you deserved to be saved. That you deserved to rest.” Cas looked down at their entwined hands, “I don’t think I ever really succeeded.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’ve been doing a thankless job ever since you carried Sam out of your burning home. Shit, even before that,” Dean cocked his head, Cas hardly ever cursed, “you were always trying to be the hero for your mother. Some people are at fault for that,” Cas’s eyebrows furrowed briefly, “but it’s human nature to be hard on ourselves and praiseworthy of others. You, in your limited experience, could not possibly know all of the things that you’ve done that have made a difference. But we’re-”

Jack suddenly blipped into existence, giving Castiel two big thumbs up, then blipped out again.

Dean turned, looking from the space Jack had stood back to Cas then back again, “What-”

Cas shook his head with a smile, “I could never tell you exactly what you’ve meant to the world. But we had a, uh, few volunteers that wanted to show you.”

“Cas, could you quit monologuing for a second and-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement. The endless sea became endless plains which became endless trees, the landscape changing at a rapid rate.

Dean looked back to Cas in confusion, but he didn’t look alarmed. He gave Dean a timid smile, kissed him behind his ear, and whispered, “Just watch.”

Dean watched. For a moment, the scenery couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be. Then, it decided not to decide. Grains of sand took the form of towering trees, a picnic table, a bench. Green lake water formed the shape of a small boy, hunched over and scribbling on the table. Lastly the wheat twirled and spun and became an all-too-familiar-looking young man wearing a jacket too big for his frame, walking over to the bench and sitting down across from the kid.

Lucas. The name came to Dean from deep in his memory, he was that quiet kid who drew Dean pictures of the ghost in the lake. The grain animated Dean’s smile as he talked, the figure of Lucas showed Dean his sketches. Their forms dissolved as the scene changed and Dean's form was pulling Lucas out of the water, the sheriff having paid his due.

The figure of Dean left, but Lucas stayed and was joined by his mother, Dean remembered her too. They embraced, and the figure of Lucas grew, changed into a young man, a husband, a father. Soon a half dozen figures were standing there, waving to Dean, and then they disappeared, melting back into water. Lucas was the last to go as he was the first to arrive. He signed a phrase to Dean, and Dean knew the words: Thank you, Dean Winchester.

Then the sand reformed into a schoolgirl, the shapes in the green water plaguing her with images of mirrors and Bloody Marys until Dean stepped in front of her, holding a mirror of grain in front of the cruel, refracted specter. It dissolved, and Dean’s form bade goodbye, but the girl remained. She grew too just like the boy did, becoming a professor, graduating with honors, writing dozens of books, and changing dozens of lives. She smiled, and waved, and dissolved as well.

The shapeshifters appeared next, the sand in the form of Sam’s friend Zach, his sister Becky, and even Dean’s false shifter form, but the true form in the too-large jacket blew them all away, leaving Becky waving goodbye. She too welcomed a family that appeared by her side, and they all looked so happy and grateful to have each other.

Again and again the scenes changed. Green waters showed the cities he had passed through, the homes that were kept from destruction, entire communities that were healed. The water formed and reformed into smiling faces and waving hands. Some of the people, Dean had known on Earth. Many of the places, Dean had remembered driving through. Most of the people and places, however, were foreign to Dean. He lost count of the number of strangers who appeared, the cities he’d never been to. He struggled to keep track as they cycled faster and faster, as numerous as the grains of sand and droplets of water they were made of. It seemed that a whole generation of people, all over the world, would-be victims of an apocalypse they never even knew was happening, knew him. Through words and cheers and song, they retold the tales of Dean and Sam Winchester, the tales they had only learned once they had passed on.

Throughout all of this, Cas pressed his shoulder to Dean’s, his presence grounding but not distracting. Dean’s grip on Cas’s hand grew tighter and tighter. Cas did not let go.

Eventually, the images and figures departed. The sand blew away, the waters swirled and dispersed, and the landscape made its final decision. Only a simple field of golden wheat remained, waving and rippling in the wind.

Only in that newfound silence did Dean notice he was crying. He shook his head, wiping the tears away furiously.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean turned to face him, vision blurred, Cas looking at him pleadingly. “You sacrificed so much for so many for so long. You don’t have to be strong right now. You don’t have to be strong ever again if you don’t want to. You have done enough.”

Castiel wiped an errant tear from Dean’s cheek, holding his face between his hands firmly, tenderly.

“You are, and always were, enough. Your job is done. Let. Go.”

Dean did.

Cas silently pulled Dean into his shoulder as he sobbed. Dean didn’t even know why he was crying, didn’t know what for. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was grieving. Maybe he just felt… relief. He wasn’t sure the last time he felt such relief. He wasn’t sure he ever had truly felt it.

After some time, longer than he’d like to admit, Dean sniffed, wiped one hand over his face, and raised his head. Cas was waiting for him, looking at him with care. With love.

“I, uh… I don’t gotta sign any autographs, do I?”

Cas smiled, and pulled Dean in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a bit on the hood of the car, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh air. Dean thought he could hear music coming from somewhere, realizing that it was the car’s radio playing softly from the cab. He knew that any time he wanted, he could hop down from the hood of his car, slide into the driver’s seat with the love of his life on the passenger’s side, and carry on his wayward way. Down the road, through the endless fields, towards the ones he had loved and lost. But not yet, not quite yet, because he had time. Maybe in the end, time was all he had ever really wanted, even if he could never allow himself to ask for it.

Infinity stretched out in front of him like the fields of grain. It wasn’t an exciting infinity, but it was his. It was a long road, a family that waited for him, a shoulder to lean on. It was, at long last, a place to lay his weary head to rest.

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fix it #destiel fic #like fields of grain #this is on ao3 but i know if I post an external link tumblr will nuke it so #if you can't tell #I'm taking canon hostage and forcing it to pay reparations

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starshine583 · 3 years

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New Girl on the Block (21)

(Sorry for the late update, guys! Yesterday was CRAZY for me. Actually, this whole MONTH has been crazy! I haven’t been able to write in weeks :’( but thankfully, I’ve pre-written a few chapters so I can still post an update today. I hope you all are doing well and don’t forget to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 20 / Ch. 22 (ao3)

Chapter 21: Elementary

Felix eyed the Dupain-Cheng bakery as he stepped out of his limo and onto the pavement. The open sign hung neatly on the front door, and behind it, the lights shined brightly inside. M Dupain-Cheng was manning the register from the looks of it, which meant Marinette either wasn’t home or wasn’t working. Both scenarios would suit him fine.

After a swift ‘thank you’ to his driver, Felix walked over and pushed open the bakery door. The entrance was noticeably different from the first time he visited- no mulling or fussing over manners and such -but the warmth that came with the charming patisserie was the same. Scents of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the air, and the bright chattering of M. Sabine was as light as the customer bell that rang above his head when he came in.

A usual Sunday for the Dupain-Cheng household, he mused.

M. Sabine caught his eye in an instant, her smile brightening as she shooed off her current customer. The customer didn’t appear to be happy about it, but she clearly didn’t mind, because she continued beckoning Felix over to the register with a wave of her hand.

Felix strolled over as requested and managed not to tense too much when M. Sabine pulled him into a hug.

“Felix, it’s so good to see you!” She trilled. “What can I get for you? A croissant? A cupcake? Or are you here to see Marinette?”

Felix offered a small smile. “The last one. Is she home?”

“She is! Just take those stairs up- oh, but you know how to get up there already. You’ll find her in her room, but I advise you to tread lightly. She’s been working on some projects non-stop for the last two days.”

Felix hummed. Has she now?

“Thank you very much. I’ll be sure to buy some sweets for my mother on the way out.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! Tom and I can get a bag ready for you while you’re up there. No charge necessary!”

Felix chuckled softly and shook his head. Marinette truly did inherit her generosity.

“That’s quite alright. I have plenty of money.”

“As do we. Now go on up before Tom finds you and gives you another bear hug.”

The comment was enough to send Felix scurrying up the stairs (in a dignified fashion, of course). Tom was a wonderful man, but his bear hugs were.. not exactly something Felix would actively seek out.

He glided through the familiar hallways of the apartment complex until he found Marinette’s, then quietly walked inside towards the attic stairs, taking care not to bump or touch anything that would alarm her. If Marinette became aware of his presence, she might find time to panic.

Or hide things.

Felix climbed that attic stairs and lightly knocked on the trapdoor, waiting for an absent invitation to enter. Hopefully, her parents knocked when they came to her room too, or she was going to guess rather quickly that he wasn’t her father or mother.

“Come in!” A muffled voice called, to his relief. She didn’t suspect a thing.

He pushed open the trapdoor and climbed inside quickly, his eyes darting around the room before anything could be touched. Various things were scattered across her floorboards and furniture, namely things like unrolled fabrics or loose spindles of thread. She’d clearly been working on something, but what? How was he supposed to find anything in this explosion of colors?

Thanks, Claude.

Marinette gasped, bringing his gaze back to her.

“Felix!” She yelped, that predictable panic washing over her features. She shot up from her rolling chair and snapped her gaze from left to right as her hands flailed a bit behind her. It was almost like she couldn’t decide what to protect or where to escape. Did that mean the entire room was somehow a clue or only part of it?

Felix straightened, giving her a small, innocent smile. “Good afternoon. I hope I’m not.. interrupting anything.”

“Uh- No, no! I was just-” Marinette’s gaze flicked over her shoulder “-You know. Working on Claude’s.. Suit. What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t been responding to my texts,” He said idly, scanning the room again for good measure, “so I thought I’d come check on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Marinette’s surprise melt into annoyance.

“You mean your texts about the surprise?” she asked flatly.

Felix held back a smirk.

“Hm? You mean the surprise you mentioned offhand two days ago? Yes, I suppose some of them were about that.”

“You know this is cheating, right?”

“Cheating?” Felix nearly gasped. “I don’t recall setting any rules.”

“I thought it was a given!” Marinette huffed, though he caught the corners of her lips twitching upwards.

“Clearly not,” He replied with a smirk, “but by all means, if you have rules, I would be delighted to know them. I want to win knowing you had all of the advantages.”

Marinette scoffed, giving him a playful eye roll. “Well, first off, you can’t ambush me like this. If you come in while I’m working on the surprise, then of course you’re going to know what it is.”

“Are you working on the surprise?” Felix inquired, tilting his head to see what was on the desk behind her.

“No, but that’s not the point.” Marinette said, blocking his view from her desk anyway.

“Alright, then what should I depend on for my guess?” He asked in turn. “You’re words? You could be lying or giving misleading information, and if you did tell the truth, I highly doubt you’d give me any clues that you thought would help me.”

“True,” Marinette agreed, “but the bet was to have you guess the surprise.”

“An educated guess is a guess all the same.”

“An educated guess is an assumption based on prior knowledge and experiences.” She pointed out. “If you see my surprise, you won’t be guessing what it is from things you saw beforehand. You’ll just know what it is because you saw it directly.”

Felix hummed. That was a good loophole.

“So are you saying that the surprise is easy to make out once you see it?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Oh, so it’s not easy to make out?”

“Felix!”

Felix laughed. “So you want me to make a deduction based on what I already know about you? Is that correct?”

Marinette eyed him for a moment, seeming to search for a trick in his words, then sat down in her rolling chair again. “Yes.”

Felix nodded thoughtfully and walked over to the chaise, gingerly moving scraps of cloth and a stray, bush pin holder aside so he could sit down as well.

“Alright, let’s see.. What do I know about Mlle Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I know you are creative.. Thoughtful.. Clever.. Minorly obsessed with giving gifts.. And work mostly in the clothes district, though that doesn’t mean you can’t make other things such as dolls or fake jewelry.”

Marinette snorted, an amused smile crossing her lips. “Go on.”

“You’re also empathetic and incredibly intuitive, picking up on the things around you without a second thought while also managing to run into a pole that’s directly in front of your face.”

“Hey!”

“My point is,” Felix continued slyly, “you’re clumsy in your walk, but not your work. If you made this bet with me, you’ve no doubt guessed where I would look and tried to counter that already. The gift is either hidden where you know I won’t look for sake of privacy or out in plain sight where you don’t believe I’ll see it as odd.”

“How do you know it’s even in this room?”

He smiled. “Your anxiety. Putting the box in any other place would have you fretting constantly over who’s touching it or whether it’s been moved. Your bedroom is the one place you can hide it while also watching over it unceasingly.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, apparently impressed, and it only made his smile widen. He’d been spot on, hadn’t he? The surprise was in her room!

“That’s very cute and all, but you still haven’t guessed what the surprise is,” She retorted, crossing her arms, “or who it’s for.”

Felix tilted his head in a nod. “Alright, let’s go through the possibilities. You have Claude, Allegra, Allan, and myself. Anyone else wouldn’t make sense as a surprise.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because otherwise you wouldn’t feel the need to keep it a secret.” He pointed out. “You’re keeping this a surprise because you don’t want the person being surprised to find out prematurely, yes? So telling me would only jeopardize that if it were myself or someone I’m with regularly, which is Claude, Allan, Allegra, and you, and you can’t exactly surprise yourself-”

“I could. You never know.” Marinette joked.

Felix chuckled. “Sure, but it would be highly unlikely. Moving on, I don’t think it would be Claude, Allan, or Allegra either, because, as you know, I don’t enjoy blabbing my mouth to others. If you were surprising one of them, you most likely wouldn’t have hesitated to tell me what the surprise was. There is the possibility that you’re just being extra careful, but I highly doubt it.”

“Therefore, in conclusion, you’re left with me.” He finished.

Marinette hummed, setting her elbow on her desk and leaning her head on her palm. “So you think the surprise is for you?”

“It’s my leading theory.”

“I see. Might I ask why I would make a surprise for you?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet.”

Marinette snorted. “What if I don’t want to tell you because I don’t feel like it? I don’t have to tell you everything about my life, Felix.”

“No,” he agreed, though a part of him would like her to, “but you wouldn’t have made the bet if you didn’t want me prying, now, would you?”

“Maybe I’m just a poor planner.”

Felix simply raised an eyebrow. Marinette’s plans might not work out the way she wants them to on occasion, but she certainly wasn’t a poor planner.

Her smile widened, clearly catching onto what he was thinking. “It could always be a possibility.”

Felix lightly scoffed and leaned back on his palms, his gaze sweeping over Marinette’s bed up top. It was neatly made, with nothing else surrounding it but a stray glass of water. That probably meant the surprise was on the lower portion of her room, since it would be hard to keep something hidden in a clean space. Could it be in one of her chests, perhaps? Or was he going to have to unravel one of her fabric rolls to find it?

“Perhaps I’m putting too much faith in you, but-”

A yawn cut off Felix’s remark, and he blinked at Marinette as she stretched out her free arm. Her posture was practically slumped against the desk, her cheek sagging against her palm as she slid further into it. Was she.. tired?

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning forward to get a better look at her. Had those bags under her eyes been there this whole time?

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” She pulled herself back into a sitting-up position, attempting to rub the grogginess off of her expression. “I just hadn’t realized how tired I was until I stopped working.”

Felix frowned. “When did you last sleep?”

“Uh.. What day is it again?” She glanced down at her computer. “Saturday.. I think I got some sleep yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday Morning?” He repeated, flabbergasted. M. Sabine had mentioned Marinette working non-stop on her projects, but he didn’t think she meant it literally. “Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

She offered him a half shrug. “I didn’t mean to stay up this long. I just keep getting into the zone with Claude’s suit, and it makes time fly by.. Plus, my insomnia was getting to me again. So, I figured: Why roll around in bed relentlessly when you can do something productive?”

“You need to rest.”

Marinette tossed her hand in his direction. “Nah. What I need is to go get one of my mocha frappuccinos. Actually, can you get it for me? It’s downstairs in the fridge.”

“I’m not getting you a frappuccino,” Felix stated flatly, “but I’ll get you some water. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Uh.. I think I ate a macaron sometime this morning?”

Felix sighed and stood up from the chaise. Why was he not surprised?

“I’ll find something for you to eat then as well.”

“Felix, you really don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I’m going to. You can’t work on a project while you’re half-dead, after all. It’ll only lead to mistakes.”

“What are you talking about?” Marinette drawled. “Being half-dead is when most of my inspirations come to life!”

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, though a small smile tugged at his lips. Sometimes he forgot how much of a mess Marinette could be.

“I’ll be right back.” He said, pulling open the trapdoor.

Since Tom and Sabine were still working, the main housing area was empty, so Felix was able to slip down into the kitchen without a problem.

He went to the fridge first, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to give her. M. Sabine told him to ask her for snacks if they needed any, but she would probably only bring them sweet treats. Marinette hasn’t eaten anything but a macaron since this morning, so she needed something healthy. Would fruit work? What kind of fruits did she like? He’s seen an orange in her pre-made lunch every now and then, but did they have any oranges here?

He closed the fridge and glanced at the counters. They were mostly covered with kitchen utensils, but he did spot a bowl of apples and oranges on the island, along with a few bananas on a hook nearby.

Perfect.

He snatched one of each fruit, then got a cup from the cabinet and filled it with as much water as he could. Hopefully it wouldn’t spill on his way back up.

With food and water in hand, Felix carefully trudged back up the stairs to the trapdoor. He switched all of his fruit over to one arm and pushed the trapdoor open, keeping a watchful eye on the water while doing so.

“Marinette, do you like oranges more or..” Felix trailed off as his eyes landed on Marinette again. She was slumping in her chair now, and her eyes were completely closed while her head was tilted to the side at an odd angle. If that didn’t bring him to the realization that she was sleeping, the snore that came a few seconds later certainly did.

Felix almost laughed as he continued into the bedroom. She fell asleep? Within the two seconds that he was gone??

“Marinette, you truly are incredible.” He whispered to himself, setting the water and fruit on her desk. Should he wake her up? She’ll probably be embarrassed if she finds out she fell asleep while he was there, especially after claiming she wasn’t that tired.

..On the other hand, leaving her be might give him a bit of an advantage..

Felix smirked, carefully tip-toeing away from her sleeping figure. Where was she looking when he mentioned the surprise again?

~~~~~~~

Marinette squirmed under her blanket, twisting herself to become more comfortable on the fluffy material underneath her. She’d forgotten how soft her chaise was, or how the memory foam helped her sink into it just right.. Maybe she should try sleeping on this more ofte-

Wait a minute.

Marinette cracked an eye open, glancing around her room with a frown. Since when was she lying down on the chaise? Hadn’t she been sitting in her rolling chair a moment ago? With-

“Felix!” she gasped, lurching upwards. Where was he? Did she fall asleep while he was in her room? Why didn’t he wake her up? Was he still in the house?

Marinette threw off her blanket and stood. She didn’t see him anywhere in her room, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t there. He could be downstairs in the living room, or talking with her parents in the bakery. Did he see anything while she was asleep? What if he found the small cans of paint behind her fabrics? Would he be able to figure out the surprise from that? What if he found the surprise itself?!

Seized with panic, Marinette raced up the ladder that led to her bed, then scaled the next ladder that led to her balcony. She threw open the trapdoor and poked her head outside, glancing around again.

The platform was empty, thankfully. No Felix in sight. And the little pot in the corner next to her beach chair looked to be untouched as well.

Marinette let out a relieved sigh and walked over to the pot, carefully picking up the fake plant that she’d placed on top of it. Inside, past the plastic that covered the top in case of rain, she saw her package sitting snugly, right where she’d left it. Thank goodness she decided to hide it the night before, otherwise Felix would have won their bet as soon as he stepped inside her bedroom.

Marinette put the fake plant back where it was supposed to be, making sure the plastic wasn’t visible anymore, and stood up to scan the road. Felix’s car wasn’t on her street, which probably meant he went home, but that didn’t mean she was safe just yet.

“Tikki!” She called as she climbed back down into her room. It was a nasty trick he played, visiting her home unannounced, but in hindsight, she probably should have expected it. If Felix was going to guess the surprise, he needed more information on it, and how else was he going to get information (aside from herself, who was currently ignoring his messages)? Her house, where the surprise- and any clues pertaining to it -would naturally be.

Tikki zipped up to Marinette almost immediately. “Yes, Marinette?”

“Do you know how long I was asleep?”

Her kwami hummed, briefly turning to find a clock. “I’d say about.. Two hours?”

“Two hours?” Marinette repeated, horrified. Imagine what Felix could have done in that amount of time!

“Did Felix find anything about the surprise?”

“Not that I know of,” Tikki answered, to Marinette’s relief, “He started to look around for a bit, then decided against it, I guess, and left you a note before leaving himself.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together slightly. “A note?”

Tikki nodded. “It’s on your desk.”

Marinette turned around to scan the bottom of her room again, indeed spotting a piece of paper on the corner of her desk. She must have been too worried about the surprise to notice it.

She climbed down her second ladder and walked over to the desk, picking up the small piece of paper. Felix’s letters curled across the page, beautiful and delicate, and to her surprise, she found something tucked underneath the note as well: A string of hearts. The same hearts she’d made for the Valentine’s Day party.

Dear Marinette,

You fell asleep before I could mention it, but the real reason I stopped by was to give you the decoration we talked about while cleaning up last Thursday. I noticed you forgot to ask Allegra about it, or perhaps you simply didn’t want to in the end. If the latter is the case, feel free to throw the decoration away.

I left fruit on your desk, along with a glass of water. Please eat and hydrate yourself so you don’t collapse later.

Signed,

Felix

A soft warmth bloomed in Marinette’s chest as she glanced at the group of fruits on her desk. It was a bit embarrassing that he remembered her stupid ‘reminiscing-over-the-hearts’ excuse, but also sweet that he took the time to ask Allegra about them after Marinette left. He always seemed to pay more attention to her than she realized.

“Hey, how did I get on the chaise?” Marinette asked Tikki curiously. “Felix didn’t.. You know.. carry me or anything, did he?”

The very thought nearly made her blush, but she tried to push it aside as best she could.

“Oh, he thought about it,” Her kwami confirmed, a certain amusement to her tone, “but in the end, he decided to wake you up just enough to have you walk over to the chaise yourself.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. She didn’t remember any of the moving process, but the neat piles next to her chaise proved that Felix put a lot of effort into cleaning the furniture off and making it comfortable. He even found a stray blanket for her to use.. With such gentle treatment coming from him, she almost wondered what she could have done to deserve it.

“Did he.. By any chance.. Do anything else while I was sleeping?” She asked hesitantly.

Tikki furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “Like what?”

Marinette flushed, flailing her arms as she replied a bit too loudly, “O-Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! I mean, if you didn’t notice anything then clearly nothing happened- hahaha! Anyway-”

She turned away from Tikki and put her hands over her face, almost groaning from embarrassment. Why would Felix even do anything to her while she was asleep? He didn’t like her that way! In fact, he didn’t like touching people at all! He wouldn’t be the type to longingly gaze at her sleeping face or maybe gently brush her bangs to the side with a smile.. It just wasn’t realistic. She needed to quit hoping for these fantasies before she fell too deeply into them.

A sigh passed Marinette’s lips, and she lowered her hands to look at Felix’s note again.

At least he cared for her in general. That’s better than nothing, right? She was happy just being his friend.

Even if she might be starting to see him as something more.

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(Devotion: Hey guys! Thanks for coming back for another end-of-chapter devotion! I really appreciate all of those who read this, and I am very excited to share more of the Bible with you! Today we’re going to talk about the beginnings of Hell, why it exists, and why it’s now our problem today.

People often like to question God’s goodness and grace by pointing out the existence of Hell. They say that if He is truly loving and truly as great as we say, then putting someone into Hell- or making it in the first place -should be too grievous of a task for Him. He shouldn’t want to create a situation where any of His other wonderful creations will suffer. I will agree that is a good question, but it is also a question that can be perfectly explained. (or as perfect as I myself can explain it anyway lol)

The first thing we need to understand is that Hell was not originally made for us. Hell was made for Lucifer and his followers. For background, Lucifer is an angel of light that used to be known as one of God’s chiefest angels. He had six wings, was beautiful beyond imagination, and (some believe) served at the right hand of Jesus Christ himself. Despite all of these magnificent gifts, however, Lucifer became unsatisfied with his position. As he looked at the things around him and thought about the incredible powers he’d been bestowed, he started to believe that he was above God. That instead of serving the one who made him, he should be the one on top, the one served and glorified. Pride and envy snaked through his chest like weeds, and soon, he was convincing other angels that he should be in charge too. This blasphemy continued until Lucifer felt he’d rallied enough angels together- or perhaps God called him prematurely -and He attacked God with one third of Heaven’s angels. As you can imagine, the fight didn’t last long. God won with an overwhelming victory, and for their insolence, God banished Lucifer and his followers to the place we now know as Hell. It is a place that God does not touch with any of his mercies or graces or light, a place a complete darkness where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face and your soul is tormented with an excruciating, unsoothable pain for the rest of eternity, where the only sounds you’ll hear is wailing and screaming and crying and gnashing of teeth. This was the place of punishment that God created for Lucifer and his followers, but it wasn’t supposed to be a place of punishment for us.

Now this brings us to the beginning of creation and earth, where Hell suddenly became a problem of our own as well. See, Hell is the place where people who do not want to serve God or give their hearts to Him go. It is not a direct punishment or forced suffering, per se. It is more like getting all of the privileges that come with serving Him taken away from us. If we are rejecting God, then we are rejecting the kindness and gifts that He gives us for accepting Him, such as peace, love, happiness, protection, light, and all of those great things. In the beginning, God created Adam and Eve, and He gave them the choice of following Him or rejecting Him and going their own way. He put them in a ginormous, beautiful garden, where they had everything they could ever need, and in the midst of the garden, He put a tree called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God told them that they could eat of every fruit in the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they could not eat. It was a simple rule, just one: Don’t eat the fruit of that tree, but you can have everything else. For a while, Adam and Eve followed that rule. The Bible doesn’t specify how long before they broke it, but one day, as Eve was eating in the garden, a serpent came to her. It’s unclear as to how many animals could speak during this time on earth, or if the snake itself was an exception, but the snake did speak to her.

“Yea, hath God said, ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?” The serpent hissed.

Eve, I can imagine, shook her head. “We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: but the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, ‘Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die’.”

“Ye shall not surely die,” the snake said, “for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

Now, this is the tricky part of how the devil works. He likes to throw in a little bit of the truth to cover up big lies. The fruit on the tree of the knowledge of good and evil did have the power to open our eyes to sin and wickedness, but it also was definitely going to kill Eve if she ate it. With the honeyed words of satan, however, and the tempting thought of becoming something better than she was now, Eve didn’t consider that he might be lying, and she didn’t consult God on the matter either. Instead, she took the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil hesitantly in her hands and, with one final breath of courage, took a bite of it.

In that moment, she chose to go her own way instead of God’s

.Eve didn’t die physically as she’d expected to, but that wasn’t because God lied. It was because He was talking about a different kind of death, which was a spiritual death. Her body may have remained after she sinned, but her soul was shriveled up inside itself, now separated from God’s touch of everlasting life. She rejected God and His graces, and in doing so, sent herself in the direction of a place where God’s light does not shine. What’s worse is that since “nothing happened” when she ate the fruit, she brought the fruit to Adam as well. Adam, seeing that his lovely wife was still alive and well, came to the conclusion that God had lied too and also ate the fruit he was specifically told not to eat. They’d both chosen a life without God now.

Of course, since God sees everything, it wasn’t long before He came down to talk with them. Just like with Lucifer, God punished them for their insolence and disobedience. He cursed Adam’s seed, so that anyone born by him (or any man) would have their eyes opened to sin as well, and He cursed the ground so that weeds and thorns and such would sprout from the ground, making it ten times harder for Adam to work in the fields. For Eve, he cursed the way she gave birth, multiplying the pain and sorrow of it, and said that she now had to submit to her husband and that it would even become her main desire to please him. On top of those curses, He made the animals to be carnivores from then on, eating meat and growing wild from the curse of the ground, and also banished Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. And at the very end of that, we know that they were on their way to Hell for their disobedience.

“That’s not fair!” You might say. “They only ate one little fruit! Isn’t that punishment a bit excessive?” Well, no. Sin is a big deal. It is direct disobedience of God, and God’s rules that He gives us are not there without reason. He knew the importance of not eating the fruit and warned us ahead of time that the punishment for eating it would be severe, yet we ate it anyway. Any punishment we were given was completely deserved. You cannot say that God is merciless and cruel for not holding back on a punishment that He told us beforehand that He would give if we did something we weren’t supposed to.

“What about the rest of us? None of us were the ones to eat of the tree. Why do we have to pay for it?” You may not have sinned by eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but you have sinned in your life regardless. At some point, you did something wrong and turned your back on God’s influence and grace. We are all deserving of the punishment that we are heading towards.

“Why not stop us? Why let us choose sin over Him? Why even give us the opportunity to do wrong at all?” Free will. God loves us all dearly, so He wanted to give us the choice to love Him, not just force us to because we are His own creation. Isn’t that amazing? He loves us so much that He created us knowing we wouldn’t love Him the same way He loves us, and He continues to give grace to those who reject Him and essentially spit in his face. I can’t imagine having that much love or patience for somebody, can you? He even gave us another chance to spend paradise with Him by sending Jesus Christ down to save us! Think about it: You know somebody who’s rejected you. You’ve given them good advice, and they’ve spit curses at you while deciding that they know better. They’ve shaken their fist at you and refused to talk to you, called you awful names for giving them the best things they could have, and yet, despite all of that, you decide to send your only son, your prime possession, to go down and take an incredible punishment for them, to die for them. That person who rejected you doesn’t deserve it. They haven’t asked for forgiveness. There is no guarantee that they will even acknowledge the fact that you saved them, but you do it anyway. God did it anyway, and He did it on a much larger scale than that little metaphor.

Hell was not meant for us, but we are headed there now because of our poor choices. God has given us a way to reconcile, to change the choices that we’ve made, because He loves us. He’s calling out to you now. I pray that you are listening. Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a blessed day! If you have any questions about God, please message me and let me know! <3)

Tag List: @sasstrashforlike5fandoms @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07 @derbygracie @pleaseignorejustheretoread

#felinette #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette #Felix Culpa #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

Member: Any genre: angst, angst, angst. AU: joseon?? Sentence: any Prompt: any

Man, you know I historicals are weakness, don’t you? hahah and angst, angst, angst?! Three times?! Don’t blame me if I don’t hold back.

↳ Lotus Blooms in Mud

2.3k || 100% Mild Angst || Park Jimin || Historical!AU

There is nothing safe within the palace.

Inside the four stone walls, where every commoner can only dream of entering, kindness is weakness. Compassion leads to another getting ahead instead of yourself. The only shields are silk, gold, and extravagance as the higher the status, the more power one can wield.

Inside the palace, nothing is safe. No belonging, possession or secret. Not when every maid, minister and eunuch have ears open wide and eyes that wander. Not when anything can be taken at a moment’s notice. Even kings are killed. Kingdoms are conquered. Dynasties fall.

But you will protect what is yours.

“Your Highness.”

Seohwa, Minister Kim’s daughter, bows to you with one mere servant behind her. You’ve seen her many times, enough to recognize her face and know who she is. Your eyes flicker down her frame to notice her pink and white hanbok that’s clearly been newly tailored with the best silks. You don’t miss the golden ornament on the side of her braided hair either. Or the rosy colour on her cheeks that’s also pressed onto her plush lips.

“Are you here for His Majesty’s banquet?”

Her head delicately lifts and her eyes meet yours. “Yes, I am.”

“You came with Minister Kim?”

She nods. “My father thought it would be good to visit the grand palace to learn more.”

The two of you walk alongside one another with your entourage of servants trailing after you at a distance. You stop by the lily pond and take her hands within yours, offering a warm smile. “Then he made a good decision. There’s not enough girls my age at these banquets and I’ve been in need of a friend for a long time.”

Seohwa visibly brightens. “Then, if you are willing, I could ask my father if I could come more often, Your Highness.”

“Yes, of course. That would be nice.” Behind the two of you, the drums start to resound through the courtyard. “It looks like the banquet’s about to begin.”

“Shall we?” The girl looks to you, excitement clear on her features.

You nod, but your lips remain in a tight line. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Why?” The girl is genuinely perplexed. “Aren’t the banquets supposed to be the best celebrations in the kingdom?”

“They are. But His Majesty is expecting me to perform today. I hurt my ankle while practicing and now I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint him.” You sigh, but then your eyes flicker to her. “You dance, don’t you?”

Seohwa grows shy. “Only a little.”

“You’re being modest. I’ve heard from Minister Kim that you’ve been performing since you were young.” You step towards her. “How about you take my place?”

“C-Can I really?”

“Yes, of course, and His Majesty should be very happy with today’s celebrations. If you do well enough, he’ll reward you with anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“His Majesty is generous and kind. Surely he will be able to grant you anything you desire,” you tell and she seems to contemplate whether to accept or not. Your gaze turns desperate. “You can do this favour for me, right, Seohwa?”

She nods after a second. “Yes, I would be happy to.”

The entire court gathers in the throne room. Each person is seated on cushions with tables of lavish food in front of them. The ministers are having their alcohol poured while Emperor Park looks out at his court on the highest seat in front.

Your eyes travel diagonally to Crown Prince Jimin who’s dressed in red with the gold emblem of a dragon on his chest. In spite of the extravagance, his smile is still sweet and his eyes are soft. But they don’t look at you. No. You catch his gaze fixing onto Seohwa down the hall all too easily. Said girl is all too bashful as well with his unspoken attention and affection.

There are no secrets in the palace.

You have long known their tenderness to each other.

“Princess Y/N,” the Emperor pipes up as the drums cease. You re-direct your attention to him with a perfect smile, posture straight and character poised. “You have promised a performance for me today?”

Several of the men around the room murmur, nodding in anticipation.

Your voice is clear and crisp as you speak, “Yes, I was. Unfortunately, Your Majesty, I have recently gotten injured but I have found my replacement. Lady Park Seohwa is a much better performer than I. You will not be disappointed.”

“I see.” The older man’s eyes look towards the girl seated farther than you are. Then they trail to the older man beside her who’s beaming proudly. “I did not know your daughter could perform, Minister Kim.”

“Yes, she can do many things. Hopefully you can find enjoyment out of her skills.”

Seohwa stands, bowing her head towards the Emperor before she comes to the middle of the room. Your eyes narrow in on the way she glances at Crown Prince Jimin and how he shifts with a gentle smile, anticipation alight in his features.

The zither is plucked. The flute is blown. A drum keeps a steady beat.

Seohwa smiles and lifts her arms gently. She steps forward and twirls. Her skirt moves along with her body.

Other than the music, there’s not a single sound. Breaths are held and as you look around the room, you find each and every person has become enraptured by her performance, from the Emperor to Jimin himself. He smiles and it grows wider by the second. The girl’s own expression starts to ease. Their eyes are connected to one another’s.

Once the dance ends, there is resounding applause and nods of approval from the men.

“Very good!” the Emperor praises with a bellowing chuckle and she bows. “Minister Kim, I didn’t know you had such a talented and beautiful daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“For your performance, I would like to grant you one reward.” He turns to her and her head lifts, youthful eyes brightened. “Is there anything that you wish for?”

Seohwa glances at you, recalling your words and seemingly gathers her courage. “There is one thing, Your Majesty, but I am unsure if I will be allowed to have this wish.”

“Nonsense.” He gestures to her. “There is nothing the Emperor cannot give to you. What is it?”

She bows her head deeply and reverently. “Please allow me to stay by Crown Prince Jimin’s side.”

Instantly, there are murmurs that ripple throughout the entire room of court ministers. Jimin is wide-eyed at the bold proclamation. You conceal the smirk sneaking up on your lips.

What a fool.

The Emperor slams his hand down on his armrest and she jolts. “How imprudent!” he shouts. “The Crown Prince has been betrothed to Princess Y/N before you were even born. How dare a measly girl like you get in the matter of politics for your own greed!”

“I...I…” Seohwa’s eyes are rounded and she stumbles back.

It’s your time to act.

Immediately, you stand. “Your Majesty!” You round your table and come beside her, only to fall to your knees with your forehead pressed to the ground and the sleeves of your hanbok out in front of you. You lift your head. “Please forgive Seohwa! She only said such a thing because she wants to be in the palace and continue performing for you and His Highness.”

“Hmph.” He looks at her. “Is this true?”

She frantically nods. “Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Rise, Princess Y/N,” he says and you get onto your feet. The Emperor shifts to Seohwa and exhales steadily. “You should thank Princess Y/N for speaking on your behalf. I have no plans on punishing anyone when this is supposed to be a joyous occasion. I will forget what you said.” He motions to the girl. “However, if that is the true intention behind your wish, I will still grant it for you.”

The Emperor exhales. “I do agree that your talents would be wasted outside of the palace, so I shall bestow you the honour of entering the women’s internal court as my new concubine.”

At his declaration, Seohwa’s head snaps upwards. You mask the smirk tickling on your lips.

Jimin has a horrified expression and he opens his mouth, moving to speak, but he’s interrupted by Seohwa’s father, Minister Kim. “Your Majesty!”

He stumbles forward beside his daughter, pressing a harsh hand on her shoulder and the two of them drop to a kneel. “I-I’m afraid my daughter is not suited to palace life. She’s much too clumsy and young. I haven’t taught her well enough yet.”

“Nonsense. There is nothing she will not be able to learn inside the palace.”

“Your Majesty—”

He slams his fist against the table. The both of them flinch. No minister, servant or eunuch dares to speak or utter a single word. “You dare refuse a generous offer from the Emperor? This is a higher status than you could ever ever obtain on your own!”

“Father.” Jimin clears his throat, expression composed and he turns to the Emperor. “Don’t be angry. I understand Minister Kim’s worries. Perhaps she can stay in the palace, but she may be suited to wed someone younger.”

“Who? You?” He chuckles. “You are betrothed. You cannot have a consort already.”

You look over to Jimin.

His lips are drawn in a tight line, the furrow of his brow deeply set, and after a moment, he sits back. Jimin is a coward who cannot conjure persuasive words or change the mind of the Emperor. He doesn’t even try to.

“A father must let go of his children eventually, Seokjin. No good will be done by holding onto them.”

Minister Kim stays quiet and then raises his head. In a quiet voice, he responds. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

In one single command, servants come to take Seohwa to prepare her for tonight. The Emperor says he would love to see another dance — a private one. And that implication is enough for you and a few others to secretly snicker.

She, however, is on the verge of tears. She calls after her father who doesn’t answer. She looks to Jimin who has diverted his vision. And then she shifts to you.

You hold Seohwa’s stare, watching as she’s taken out of the doors.

Then, you smirk.

...

The moon hangs high above the horizon. The warm candlelight illuminates your room and you listen to the sound of the brush stroking against the parchment, watching as each flicker of your wrist leaves a trail of ink.

You’re interrupted by a servant girl coming in. “ Your Highness, His Royal Highness, the Crown Pri—”

Jimin enters, steps heavy and firm, gaze darkened.

You look to the servant. “Leave us.”

She bows her head, stepping backwards gingerly until you hear the doors shut.

You set the brush down, half-way through copying the poem, and a soft smile graces your features as you gaze at him. “What’s the matter? It’s not like you to visit me so late.”

“Why did you do it?” His voice is thick and you notice the clench in his jaw, the burning of his eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t pretend you’re stupid,” Jimin spits, “You are the one who set Seohwa up! It was you!”

You scoff, unable to believe that he came all the way here for her when you thought he was coming for you. You should’ve known. “She brought it onto herself. Who told her to be that foolish?”

“You told her to perform at the banquet. It was you who kneeled in front of the Emperor and said she wanted to stay in the palace—”

“It was her fault for trying to take what wasn’t hers! She is greedy, stupid and small-minded.”

Nothing you said is wrong. She jumped at the opportunity to show off her skills without thinking twice. She wanted attention. She carefully picked out what she would wear today, from tailoring new attire to the ornament in her hair that you strongly suspect Jimin gave to her.

His jaw is set, frame rigid. But Jimin’s glare is unmatched to yours.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know about your feelings for one another? How that wrench was trying to take you away from me? Who does she think she is.”

“Don’t you dare speak about her like that!” Jimin shouts and seethes, “It’s your fault. It’s because of you— because of you that she has become my father’s concubine!”

“And you think you’re blameless?! You’re the only one who could’ve saved her and you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

You’re close to him, a crazed look present in your eye. Guilt flashes across Jimin’s face underneath his boiling anger. In spite of his status, he is as weak as you are. In this palace, you have to grasp onto what you can. You have to protect what is yours closely before it’s taken away. It’s a hard lesson you had to learn and one he will have to learn as well. Even as the Crown Prince.

“I will never love you.” It’s a simple whisper that befalls his lips. His expression glosses over into impassivity. “Not when you do the things that you do.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. It aches, feels like your heart has been torn from your chest and crushed in his cold hand. Your rib cage is left bruised, hollow, and tears well into your eyes.

Jimin turns around, but before he gets to the door, you make your last words known—

“You can have as many concubines and consorts as you want. You can take maids and court ladies in. But none of them will ever last.” It’s a vow you swear aloud, as strong as Heaven’s Mandate and one you will write in blood instead of ink. “I will always be by your side. Nothing will change that, Jimin.”

The doors slam open and shut.

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #bts angst #bts scenario #jimin reader insert #bts reader insert #jimin scenario #Anonymous #Jimlings #eyy hope you can enjoy this #this is quite the dramatic piece hahaha

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aces-of-the-center-court · 4 years

Text

Hello~ mod Raine here! Usually, it’s mod sunny who writes the headcanons while I do the proofreading. But this time, I took on the role of writing as well! However, as I had only watched the anime and not the manga, I had to research the characters’ personalities (esp Sakusa & Atsumu who hasn’t appeared much in the anime) and write accordingly to what I found, so I hope it’s not too out of character? Also!! This was our first attempt at writing a scenario instead of our usual headcanon. I felt that it flows better this way, so I tried my best > < Sorry it took so long!! Hope you’d enjoy it!

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

It was a rainy evening. Sakusa decided to stop by a convenience store on his way home. He closed his umbrella and placed it into the umbrella stand. After grabbing some items, Sakusa caught a whiff of a familiar scent when he stood in line for payment. The smell, exuding from the person queuing in front of him, brought him back to his memories from high school. It smelled like you.

Was he hallucinating? After the two of you had separated, he had mistakenly thought he saw you on numerous occasions, only to realise it was just someone who looked similar from the back. But this time, he wasn’t mistaken. He caught a glimpse of the handkerchief he gave you during your birthday when you used it to wipe your wallet that got wet from the rain. Sakusa’s eyes lit up. He opened his mouth to call you, but hesitated. He was sure it was you, but what if it wasn’t? He doubted. His eyes followed you as you walked towards the exit of the convenience store without realising that he was behind you.

Just as you were about to leave, you noticed that your umbrella was missing. It was no longer in the umbrella stand, so someone else must have taken it. You cursed your luck and was about to turn back to buy another umbrella when you recognised one of the umbrellas within the stand – it looked exactly like his. Although it could very well be someone else’s umbrella, and you could just be getting your hopes high for nothing, you still turned to search for him. There he was, in front of the cashier, staring back at you.

The eye contact returned Sakusa to reality. He quickly made his payment and paced towards you. He looked at the umbrella stand and hesitantly asked, “…What are you doing here?” To which you sheepishly replied, “Oh... my umbrella’s gone. I was about to get another one.” You looked out the glass door at the pouring rain outside and continued, “It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop anytime soon, you see.”

A pause later, Sakusa suggested, “How about I walk you home instead? The umbrellas here are… you know, not sturdy.” He thought of an excuse and grabbed his umbrella, glancing at you as he waited for your response. At your nod, the both of you headed out.

During the walk, you made sure to leave some space between the two of you to respect his germaphobe tendencies. Sakusa noticed it and tilted the umbrella towards you. When you looked over to him and realised his shoulder was getting wet, you broke the silence, “Sakusa-kun, your shoulder is going to get wet.”

“One of us will have to get wet with this space between us.” He muttered. Before you contemplated if you should move closer, he shifted closer to you under the umbrella. The two of you continued walking in tranquillity, shoulders touching.

“How have you been?” You broke the awkward silence again. Good, how about you? Good too. You imagined the flow of conversation and even the silence that would follow after. However, besides the rain sounds that filled the air, it was hushed. Sakusa wasn’t sure how he should answer. Should he tell you about his volleyball career or how he regretted the breakup with you? What about how he had never spent a day without missing you? Or how every little thing reminded him of you? With a sigh, he resigned, “Not that great.”

Astonished by his reply, you concernedly questioned, “Why not? Is something wrong?” Sakusa slowed his steps to a stop. You looked over to him and halted your steps as well.

“I missed you.” He said, voice soft behind his mask and the loud rain. Pushing his hesitation to the back of his mind, he turned to face you.

“I really miss you, y/n. Can we… start over again?”

Miya Atsumu:

Your face lit up with your phone when you received a message from your best friend, but quickly dulled when you realised that they were going to be late. You sighed and leaned your back against the wall, deciding to play a game on your phone while waiting for your best friend.

“Eh~ Is this who I think it is?” A familiar voice called out.

Looking up from your phone, you saw a familiar figure lean his back against the wall next to you with his arms crossed. “What are you doing here?” Atsumu asked with a sly grin on his face.

You were at a sports hall where the current season’s volleyball matches were held. You had heard that Atsumu continued volleyball professionally, but you were not here for him. You were only here because your best friend had asked you to come watch the match with them. At least, that was how you tried to convince yourself. Either way, you were hoping to not bump into him here, but here he was, right next to you.

“What do you think? Everyone’s either here to play or watch the volleyball matches.” You kept your eyes on your phone, avoiding eye contact with him as you continued to sarcastically remark, “I’m not a player obviously, so I’m here to watch the match.”

He let out a wince, cocking his head to face you while still leaning against the wall, “Someone’s feeling prickly today?” You rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself off the wall and began walking away from him. You didn’t want to see him in case he could tell your feelings for him had not completely faded. But Atsumu trailed after you.

“Ah~ I thought you were here to see me.” He spoke loud enough for you to hear as he kept his pace behind you, a hint of teasing present in his voice. Unbeknownst to you, none of that statement was a lie. Atsumu was indeed hoping that you came just so you could see him.

“Why would I?” You responded, deadpan, dimming the glimmer of hope Atsumu held on to.

“Because you haven’t seen me in a while?”

“So? I’ve gotten over you since ages.” His heart stung when you said those words you did not mean so coldly.

“I want you to say that to my face.” He quickened his stride to catch up to you and stood in your line of sight. “It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them,” He voiced in a serious tone, “But if you can look at me in the eyes and still say the same, then I’d believe you.” Despite his words, in his mind, Atsumu pleaded for the opposite. Tell me I’m not the only one who haven’t gotten over our relationship.

You gulped. “Why does it matter whether I’m over you or not anyway!” You raised your voice and turned around to walk away from him.

“Because I know I’m not.”

His words left you frozen in your tracks. He stepped towards you and pulled you to him as he hugged you from the back. In his embrace, you could feel his warmth and his heartbeat. His voice, low as he whispered next to your ear, “My mind just won’t stop thinking about you whether I see you or not. You have no idea how thrilled I was when I saw you just now. It’s impossible to forget about you even if I try, I can’t take this any longer.”

Releasing you from his clutch, he whirled you around to face him and slid his arms down from your shoulders to your fingers. With your hands in his, he gazed longingly into your eyes as he declared, “Be mine again, will you?”

Oikawa Tooru:

The bell jingled as the café door was pushed open.

“Hi, wel-” Until you saw the customer who just stepped in, you greeted as per usual, only to trail off the end of your words when you recognised the customer, “…come.”

Looking in the direction of the familiar voice, Oikawa was equally surprised to see you. He had only come to visit the newly opened café on his rest day, hoping to enjoy some leisure time. But he was not expecting to see his ex, working behind the counter. He stayed stunned, staring wide-eyed at you with his mouth slightly agape while a wave of nostalgia hit him.

Remaining professional, you put on a polite smile and properly greeted him again, “Welcome.” He regained his composure and returned the smile, then proceeded to take a seat by the window. As you continued your work as usual, Oikawa watched you silently. He watched your expressions as you greeted the customers with a smile. Oh, how much he missed that smile of yours.

He felt a tug at his heartstrings as he recalled the moments that he had with you, back when you used to laugh with him, with a smile even brighter than your current one. He got up and walked to the counter where you were stationed – and there you were, with a polite smile, not the one he was used to seeing.

“How can I help you?” You asked him with a solemn smile, as with every customer.

Be with me again. He imagined saying, but ultimately shook off the thought. “What would you recommend?” He returned the question instead.

Though you were somewhat taken aback by his request, you contemplated carefully before responding, “How about some earl grey tea to go with our classic Hokkaido milk bread? Or hot chocolate if you’re feeling for something sweeter? It goes well with the milk bread too.”

A faint smile formed on his lips when he realised you still remembered his favourite food – milk bread. The smile quickly disappeared as he felt his heart wrench. He missed you, so much.

“I’ll take an earl grey tea for me and a hot chocolate for you,” He shifted his gaze from the milk bread to you, “do you have some time?”

A flirty remark, others may think, but Oikawa’s expression was more serious than his usual grin. You broke away from his intense gaze to check the time – it was almost break time soon, maybe you could spare him a few minutes. “So, one earl grey tea and one hot chocolate,” You read out loud as you entered it into the cash register, “any milk bread for you?”

“Goes without saying, right?” Oikawa flashed a lopsided grin, one that used to make your heart flutter. It still did, but you ignored it and completed his order before taking your break.

During your break, you took a seat across him and grabbed the cup of hot chocolate. “Loads of whipped cream in your hot chocolate?” Oikawa casually asked whilst stirring his tea.

“Goes without saying, right?” You replied without hesitation, “It’s my hot chocolate you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your whipped cream filled hot chocolate. When you placed your cup back down, a cream moustache had formed across your top lip, causing a chuckle to escape from him. By habit, Oikawa reached his hand out to wipe it off, “You never change, do you?”

He paused his thumb midway on your lips after realising his actions and retracted his hands. You awkwardly picked up a napkin to wipe your lips instead. A pensive moment of silence later, you heard him take a deep breath. As you made eye contact with those glistening eyes of his, words poured out of his mouth, full of sincerity.

“Let’s start over, y/n. I need you.”

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

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Those Three Little Words

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 10 & 11

"Until I was 25, I thought the only response to 'I love you' was 'Oh, crap!'"/"Ah, Humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha."

Warnings: Swearing (per usual). Anxiety. Toxic Family. Emotional Trauma(?). Angsty. Post-War.

The War had been a sick wakeup call for Fred. He'd lived his life carefree and reckless, as he figured each day were a given. Mess up today it didn't matter because there was always tomorrow. He would strut through life as if he were invincible because, well, he always seemed that way. But death has a funny way of reshuffling ones priorities. A way of shedding light on what truly matters in your life.

Fred never considered himself as someone who lacked ambition. Frankly George and he never seemed to let anything hold them back. However, these days Fred could very well give Slytherins a run for their money - something George frequently teased him about. If there were something he wanted Merlin himself couldn't get in his way.

Not only in the case of work but his personal life as well. In love. And there was only one woman on Earth he loved. [Y/N].

He knew he loved her before the war. Before Umbridge drove him from Hogwarts in their final year. Before she left him.

It was only shortly prior, the boys epic departure, that [Y/N] had made the decision to call it quits. She knew their lives were destined to pull them in opposite directions and she never put much stock in long distance relationships. So, with a final kiss and a wish good luck, she walked out of his life. Albeit not completely.

After graduation she kept loosely in touch with the Twins, they had been friends after all, even visiting their shop on the off occasion when she could swing it. Although she was often far too busy to stay for long. Eventually she was relocated overseas for work, this officially terminating any of the limited contact had between the three.

The next time they would be in each others presence was the ill-fated battle.

[Y/N] had been keeping tabs on the events leading up to the fight. Even engaging in missions on behalf of the Order when necessary. She had proved quite a valuable asset. In the days before all Hell broke loose [Y/N] returned to Britian on 'urgent family matters' and of course she fought.

When Fred saw her again after so many years the rush of feelings that coursed through his body were nearly enough to knock him off balance. She was still so gorgeous. The [E/C] of her eyes reminding him just how deeply he loved her. Just how much he needed her. And he knew. Just knew she felt the same.

He saw it in the little things she did for him. Saw it in the tears of her eyes. In the way she broke down in his Hospital room when he finally woke, a fortnight, after his accident. Heard it in the tremble of her voice. In her 'I thought I lost you's. In the way she clung to him. He was so relieved she was okay and so happy to finally have her back in his life. Until suddenly...she wasn't anymore.

Recovery was Freds life now, but that wasn't hers. She was still needed elsewhere and as much as he wished she would stay he knew she couldn't. She still had a life left living. It were a miracle she managed to stay as long as she had. So...she left. And he wouldn't see her again for years. Six. To be exact.

Recovery had taken years from Fred. It was two and a half years before he could consider himself independent. After all that time wasted he wasn't about to let anything stand in his way. So when news carried to his ears that [Y/N] was back living in London, permanently, that after six years he could see her again, there was nothing holding him back.

In a second he'd apparated to her doorstep. Knocking on the withered wood door. Listening to the faint patter of approaching footsteps. Hearing the gentle click of the locks tumblers as they turned. Watching the steady swing of the door as it opened. Feeling the prick of burning tears behind his eyes as he stared back into her questioning gaze. Pulling her body into his as their lips collided. Relishing in the warmth that spread through his blood as she kissed back. Clung back. Loved him back. Everything he poured into her she gave right back. He swore right in that moment that he'd never let her go again. They'd wasted so much time already.

Over a year later the two could not have been deeper in love. She'd moved into the boys flat mere months after he appeared at her door. It's what Fred wanted, and Fred always gets what he wants.

Fred and Georges business had picked up quite quickly after the war. Fred insisted George begin work on the restorations while he recovered. Saying he wanted everything back in full swing by the time he was upright, to pick right back where he left off. George was sure he simply didn't fancy cleaning it himself and saw recovery as a pretty convenient excuse. Fred didn't deny his brothers claim.

They'd managed to open a second store in Hogsmead and were currently renovating the original store. Expanding the flat and lower levels. This saw the three residents temporarily relocating to the Burrow for a few days as the work was completed. Molly had insisted, saying the house were 'far too quiet' for her liking. Which was hard to believe as Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Harry all currently lived there. Of course Bill and Fleur, as well as Percy had all moved out ages ago, and Charlie was back living in Romania. Still, it beats paying accommodation elsewhere. And they couldn't deny that spending time back in their childhood home was enjoyable. It felt warm and safe and familiar, like the war had never happened and they were all just spending time together as a family.

As dinner approached on their third day home [Y/N] and Harry could be found helping prepare tonights meal, under the careful instruction of Mrs Weasley, while the rest sat comfortably within the sitting room fondly reminiscing their times spent together just like they were now.

The group were laughing haughtily at a certain memory George had recalled in which [Y/N] turned Rons entire bedroom hot pink with the Twins 'Everlasting Dye', after he thought it'd be funny to turn her hair a similar shade. Much like [Y/N]'s hair the dye hadn't faded for well over a fortnight as the Twins found the whole thing all too funny and refused them the instant remover.

"God, I love her." Fred smiled brightly at the memory, "I'm going to marry that woman." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Sure she likes you that much?" Ginny quipped.

"Certain, dear Sister." Ginny simply nodded a look of uncertainty on her face. "What's that look for?" "Nothing." "Ginny." "well it's just...she doesn't really say it much does she?" "'Course she does. What are you on about?" "I just don't think I've ever actually heard her say she loves you before." "It's not like you're 'round us 24/7 now is it?" Fred scoffed, shaking off his sisters comment.

George meanwhile was staring towards the ceiling, brows furrowed as he contemplated Ginnys words deeply before letting out a low "hmmp" as realisation struck.

"Oh, what now?" Fred rolled his attention toward his Twin. "Nothing it's just I can't think of a time I've heard her say it either." Ginny had a look of 'I told you so' blatantly obvious on her face while Ron and Hermione thought hard on the topic as well. Freds gaze shifted quickly between his gathered family.

"Oh, so what if you've never heard it. Point is I have. And I know she loves me so it doesn't matter. But if you all must! Here," he leant back in his chair calling into the kitchen "Hey, [Y/N/N]!" "Yeah, Freddie?" She walked toward him with a loving smile. "I love you" [Y/N]'s smile faded instantly as she raised a suspicious brow, "What'd you do?" "What!?" Fred asked shocked as the eavesdroppers giggled. "No. Nothing, really! I just wanted to tell you I love you." "Oh...well I know that" she smiled, kissing him softly. Fred gave her an expectant look as she stood back. "...what?" "you love me too, yeah?" "Of course I do." There was a determination behind her words. Almost as if she were insulted by his question, to which the answer were painstakingly obvious. She soothingly ran a hand through his hair, "I've got to get back in there and help your Mother before Harry burns everything." She joked, placing a final quick kiss to his lips. He watched her leave a giddy smile on his face before turning back to his nosey family.

"See. Told you." He laid back in his seat confidently. The group all shared tight lipped, awkward, smiles. "Oh, what?!" "It's just she didn't really say it, did she?" George spoke. "Yeah she did. I asked her and she said 'yes'. End of conversation." "But she didn't actually say the words; 'I love you'." Ginnys voice intervened. "She doesn't have to." "Shouldn't it be sort of automatic?" "Like you and Harry say it every time." He rolled his eyes. "Pretty much" Ginny nodded, earning an unconvinced scoff from her brother. "Here, watch."

Ginny mirrored Freds earlier movements, calling to the kitchen, "Hey, Harry!" "Yeah, Gin?" Harry came to his fiancès call. She smiled up at him sweetly, "I love you". Harry looked around the group a little uncomfortable and unsure but smiled nonetheless. "I love you too" he placed a quick kiss to her temple. "Right, that's all I wanted you can go now." Ginny turned back in her chair as Harry walked away very confused.

"Automatic." She gestured widely with her hands, a triumphant look on her face. "Oh piss off." Fred scowled. "Doesn't matter if she 'says the words' or not. I know she loves me. Doesn't bother me." "Good for you, Freddie." Ron spoke encouragingly. "So you're on my side?" "Absolutely!" "It wouldn't bother you if Hermione never-" "oh GOD no! She has to say the words. I need the reassurance." He looked up to his girlfriend, who in turn lovingly took his hand in hers.

"Alright. So it's a little strange. But I bet I can have her saying it before we leave." "In four days?" George questioned, sceptical. "Yep. I'll make her." "How romantic. With charm like that it's a wonder why she hasn't said it already." His Twin chuckled. "Why don't you just talk to her about it? Maybe there's a reason." Hermione piped. "Nah. My ways better." Fred shook his head, tapping his knees lightly as he thought.

And so began, what Fred would soon discover to be, the most difficult challenge he'd ever attempted.

It started out simply enough; with a few added 'I love you's here and there. Whether the moment called for it or not. Although after the war Fred had become notably more vocal in expressing his love towards family and friends, he kicked it up a notch in an attempt to coax those very words from the mouth of his partner. Quickly escalating to more grand and romantic gestures.

The first was a ridiculously large bouquet of vividly yellow roses. Moving onto a private picnic for two atop the Hill which rested behind the Burrow. At sunset he had dragged [Y/N] from the home to where he laid a blanket and candles, with soft music playing in the background, as well as having organised a platter of all their favourite foods. Ending the meal rather...intimately. During which he was sure to further praise her and whisper sweet, loving words in her ear. Telling her just how much he loved her.

His constant showering of affection had granted him plenty of appreciation in return. His words always being met with the usual "I do too"s and "Me too"s even a couple "Dittos" they always had, though he was yet to receive any "I love you"s. Which hadn't bothered him before, but now was proving to be mildly infuriating and very disheartening, really.

Failure wasn't something Fred was used to anymore. To think he was unable to get his long term partner to say those three little words was quickly making him uncomfortable.

By the fourth and final morning, since setting himself this little challenge, Fred was spent. He was sure he'd tried everything. Grand gestures. Romantic dates. Surprise kisses. Great sex. He had even seriously considered proposing, as a last resort. But these were not the circumstances in which he wanted to do so under, when he did he wanted it to be perfect. Maybe the Imperius - NO! no. Too drastic.

Why was nothing working? Suddenly Ginnys amusing quip wasn't so funny anymore and struck a vein far too close to home. Was it possible he was wrong and she simply didn't feel the same way?

All manner of sickeningly worrisome thoughts began to flood through his mind as he lay awake. He starred at the woman he loved so fiercely, so passionately, he could swear she were the only reason his heart kept bleeding.

He watched her as she slept peacefully, tucked tight against his chest, whilst he absent-mindedly stroked her hair, contemplating a reality which he much rather never come true. One in which she didn't love him.

He used to be so sure but now...now he was terrified. He'd never thought much on what form his Boggart would assume if he ever were to face one. He knew in this moment though that is exactly what shape it would take. Her.

She'd approach him slowly. An evil grin and amused brow raised upon her features. She'd tell him what a fool he was. How stupid he was to ever think a woman like her could love a boy like him. That she only stayed with him out of pity. How humiliated and desperate he seemed that day on her doorstep. How it would have been better if he had just given up, never fought to survive after the explosion. How much better it'd have been if he just died in War. She could have found real love, lived a happy life away from the embarrassing one she led with him in it.

Tears burned red in the whites of his eyes as his chest shuddered with every quickened and panicking breath he took. His heart thundering in his ears as the room began to spin. He was suffocating. Sweat streamed down his temples. He had to get out. Escape.

Sliding as quickly and carefully as he could from beneath the covers without disturbing the sleeping woman in his bed, he took for the shower. Praying the steam would unfog his mind. That the water would wash away his doubts and anxiety.

The whole time he tried to rationalise why [Y/N] wouldn't say the words. Reassuring himself that it didn't matter. Shouldn't matter. He left the bathroom long after the water had run cold feeling only moderately better than when he'd entered. At least now he had a modicum of control over his body. His emotions on the other hand...

He slowly descended the steps of his childhood home, face emotionless, to the sound of light chatter and clinking of various dishes. Everyone was already gathered around the table eating breakfast.

"Ah, there you are!" George announced as Fred entered the kitchen, "clean now are we? Thought you'd must have drowned in there." He joked. Fred offered a light chuckle and forced smile as he sat himself between his Twin and partner. "What's this the wake then?"

[Y/N] leant into his side, placing a kiss to his cheek as her hand traced circles on his lower back. "Morning, Hun" she murmured tenderly, chin resting against his shoulder as she peered up at him. He didn't look at her, simply humming in response. His hand briefly came to squeeze her thigh before quickly retracting. This did little to evoke a sense of ease within his significant other.

Over the eighteen months they'd shared together [Y/N] had long since become accustomed to his dramatic morning greetings. Usually, as they'd wake up together, it'd involve him peppering her face and neck in countless kisses before joining George for breakfast. On days when they'd wake to find themselves alone under the covers, the other having obviously awoke long ago, he'd surprise her. Lifting her off her feet and spinning her through the air then, placing her back down, kissing her deeply.

The only times she'd seen him like this were nights when his dreams had been plagued with flashbacks from the Battle. She assumed he'd slept peacefully. He hadn't had any nightmares in months and would usually, unintentionally, wake her during them. "You okay, Freddie?" "Yeah."

Totally convincing.

The rest of the day Fred was cold. To everyone but [Y/N] especially. He was having difficulty even looking at her. She'd tried talking with him but he insisted there was nothing the matter. Didn't keep her from worrying.

After dinner everyone moved into the lounge, engaging in various bits of conversation. Everyone aside from Fred. No one was sure when he'd disappeared but his absence was noted nonetheless. [Y/N] was the one to search for him. Found standing within the garden over looking the sunset.

She could see the discontent held in his body, the way he stood so rigid. The hollow expression on his features, completely devoid of any emotion. It hurt her seeing him this way.

"Hey, You." She spoke hesitantly. Fred turned at the sound of her voice. Watching her standing tentatively before him as if unsure whether or not her presence was welcome. "Hey, You" he smiled sadly back, his frame visibly relaxing at the sight of her. "We're all missing you in there. What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?" [Y/N] said softly as she approached him, arms snaking around his waist. His hands fell to her lower back and pulled her into his body ever more so. "Just needed a bit of quiet to think" "'Think', huh?" He hummed in response. "That's never good" she grinned making him laugh lightly. "No, it isn't." He placed a slow kiss to her lips.

Breaking it shortly after as he teased, "So, you missed me?" "Every second you're not by my side I do." He rested his forehead against hers, their eyes falling shut contently. Fred exhaled comfortably,"I love you" "I do too" [Y/N] replied. "What love you?" Fred straightened himself with a cheeky expression on his face which was mirrored on that of his partners. "Stop it." "I'm serious." "You know what I mean" "Do I?".

[Y/N] had another quip ready on the tip of her tongue until noticing that cheery look he held had vanished and they were no longer standing in one anothers embrace. Her face dropped at the sight if a completely serious Fred Weasley stood in front of her. Awaiting the answer to a question she didn't fully understand. "Whats gotten into you?" She took a step toward him, to which, he took one back. "Do you love me?" "Of course I do!" "Then why don't you say it?" "I don't know what you're -" "you never say it." "I just did." "No, you agreed to a question I asked." "It's the same thing." "It's not."

The two were practically talking on top of one another. "Just...say it." He took a step towards her, to which, she took one back. "If I say it now it'll be forced and it may as well not mean anything." "Why can't you just say it!?" He snapped, more asking himself the question than her. But he needed to ask. He wasn't yelling at her but a part of [Y/N] wished he would. "I know you love me. Or at least I thought I did. I just...I need to hear you say it because sometimes I can't help but wonder - please just. Say it." Staring into her eye's pleadingly, hers stared right back in apology. "Fred..." "Forget it." He turned from her. "Fred, baby" her hand reached for his shoulder as his own ran through his hair in frustration whilst his jaw clenched. "I can't. I can't be near you right now." He shook his head, storming off towards the Hill. Ignoring her frantic, begging calls.

[Y/N] stood rooted to the spot from shock. This was one of the first fights the pair had had, and she wasn't even sure what brought it on. There'd been minor squabbles between them out of stress from work or other things but never something like this. They had such an open relationship it never got to this point, any concerns either held was always voiced and discussed. Why was this time different?

As she watched his figure slowly disappear amongst the dark as night was soon to fall, she made her decision. This time wasn't going to be different. They were going to talk about it whether he cared to or not. Even if that meant her admitting somethings she'd very much hoped never have to. So, she set off after him.

Fred stood with his back against the trunk of an old tree which grew tall on top the Hill. One hand in his pocket as the other ran his fingers over the markings carved into it's wood by the Weasley family. One engraving in particular. A relatively fresh one where he had carved [Y/N]s name next to his own last Christmas to "officially" mark her as apart of the family.

He recalled the moment vividly. How she questioned his actions, wondering if he'll still love her the same 'down the road', not to regret this decision. "Nah, you're right. I won't love you the same. I'll love you more." He'd said. "But the real question is; will you love me, or are you just going to break my heart?" To be honest. He truly hadn't expected the latter.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the approaching sound of footsteps. Turning his head he rolled his eyes upon realising it was her. "Not now." He growled. "Yes now." She shot back at him standing firm in place.

She'd planned a whole monologue on the walk to him but now that she was here, eyes meeting his, she hadn't a damn clue what to say.

"Until I was 25, I thought the only response to 'I love you' was 'oh, crap!'" She blurted out. Fred looked at her quizzically as the words settled in the air. [Y/N]'s eyes shut for a moment, kicking herself. That wasn't how she intended for the conversation to go. "I'm-I can't say the words" she began again to which Fred scoffed. "Yeah. I gathered that much." "Fred, just shut the fuck up, and listen to me!" Her stare shot daggers into the boy and he found his attention unwavering from her words.

"I didn't have a normal upbringing. I didn't get what you have. I came from a family where love was a weapon. A tool for manipulation. Something that was withheld until you were useful. Something used to excuse shitty behaviour. I didn't get the warm Christmases and intimacy you got. Before you I wasn't sure I knew what love was. My whole life had been cold. Then when you showed up at my door that day it was like hot blood began pumping through my body for the first time. You felt like life when my whole existence has been death. That's when I knew I couldn't live without you. When I knew that I...I can't say it. The words. But not just to you, I can't say them to anyone. It feels unnatural like there's a rope tied around my throat and it suffocates me. And it kills me a little bit. To look into your eyes and know that I - that I still can't - may never ... fuck. I-" [Y/N]s hand came to cover her eyes as tears fell and heartbroken sobs escaped her body.

Fred reacted on instinct, by her side in a second, pulling her into his chest. A hand gripped her back as the other fisted into her hair. "I'm sorry" she cried as he soothed her.

Fred was fighting sobs of his own, feeling as her body shudder against his and she clung to him for support. Because if she didn't her knees would buckle and she'd fall.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I-I had no idea this was...look at me." He held her shoulders taking half a step back to look at her. "I don't care if you never say the words." "But then why-" "I listened to the opinions of four prats who had no business sticking their noses in our relationship." [Y/N] chuckled sadly, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Before they said anything I honestly hadn't noticed because I knew, I know you love me. You don't have to tell me because you show me. It's in your kiss. In your eyes. Your laugh. Your nostrils as they flare when you yell at me after successfully pissing you off. Never be sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so worked up over nothing. Okay?" [Y/N] nodded in response, unable to form a sentence. Smiling sweetly his hand came to caress below her jaw."I love you." "Now you're just rubbing it in." Fred laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips.

He's pulling away before [Y/N]s pulling him back by the collar of his shirt for a deep and passionate one. Soon breaking in dire need for air.

Her chest is heaving as she catches her breath. His eyes fall shut, pressing his head against hers gently. [Y/N]s eyes are searching his face. Why can't she just tell him? The words, those three stupid little words, are right there tearing at her throat. Wanting to be said. This is real. He is not her parents, not her toxic 'family'. He's Fred. Sweet, caring Fred. Her one and only. He's different.

She swallows hard, mouth going dry, as that familiar tightening takes hold. Trying desperately to rid herself of that strangling sensation that plagues her a trillion times a day. She's staring at him, panic coursing through her bloodstream. Her eyes clench shut as she tries to muster as much strength as she can. "I-" the words are right there. Her voice barely a whisper as she fights that rope. "I love you." [Y/N] gasps for air as a knot in the rope snaps. Eyes widening as her chest shudders before she's smiling. Fresh tears falling in relief and joy.

Fred's eyes spring open, gawking. Did she just...is he-did he imagine that? No. There's no way. "You...you-" "I love you." Her voice louder this time, more assured as a second knot snaps. He doesn't know how to react. Body and mind still processing.

Soon though he's grinning like a madman, spinning her in his arms, feeling happier than he thought possible. Placing her back on the ground both hands cup her face as his lips crash into hers.

They stay like that for a while, in one anothers arms. [Y/N]s kissing him tenderly as she pulls back to whisper the words once more, "I love you." He smiles cockily down at her before his expression shifts to one of mock surprise. "Oh, crap!" he laughs as [Y/N] rolls her eyes. "Ah, Humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha. You're such a bastard." She turns to walk off but he grabs her arm. Spinning her back against his chest as his other hand comes to the nape of her neck.

"Not so fast, Princess." He licks his lips smirking, voice low "say it again." She bites her lip suppressing a wide smile. "I love you." He places one final kiss before a wicked grin spreads over his face and he's quickly throwing her over his shoulder.

"Come on, love!" He starts running for the Burrow. "FRED!" [Y/N] squeals. "No time to waste! I told them I'd have to saying it before we leave." "You...oh my god, FRED! Did you place a bet on me!? You absolute GIT!"

"Love you too, sweetheart."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #George weasley #hp imagine #harry potter fanfiction #prompt fics #harry potter

407 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt7 / On AO3

Lan Xichen's plans for the day get derailed, but not as much as he feared

After a long and silent eternity, the people of Yunping Huang finally started to wake up, as did their Lan guests. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, both relieved to have company at last, joined everyone else for breakfast. The younger boy made a point of sitting as far away as possible, clearly still upset about that Su She incident. Even like this, Nie Huaisang threw a sharp look toward Lan Xichen when Lan Qiren dropped by to announce that they would all be staying until that afternoon, since the three sect leaders present had things left to discuss.

Lan Xichen tried his best to look surprised at the news, and discreetly nodded at Nie Huaisang to confirm he would still be helping.

By the time Lan Xichen felt it safe to head out without risking being seen by his uncle, Nie Huaisang was already at the door of the sect, nervously biting his nails again and tapping his foot on the ground as if waiting to be given a chance to bolt out. He must really have wanted those spring books, Lan Xichen thought.

It wasn’t so hard, convincing the Huang disciple guarding the entrance that Nie Huaisang was actually allowed to go out if it was in Lan Xichen’s company. It helped that Lan Xichen, in spite of his age, already had a small reputation going for him, and that he’d performed so well against those fierce corpses the previous day that the guard was a little in awe. The two boys then headed out together, having agreed to stick together until they were out of view, and to meet again at a certain hour when they had both taken care of their respective errands. They would surely be scolded when they came back, but less than if they returned separately.

Nie Huaisang was about to run off on his own when they heard someone calling their names behind them. They turned as one, terrified to have been already discovered, only to find Jiang Cheng running toward them, a frown on his face.

“Where are you two going?” Jiang Cheng asked when he caught up with them, throwing them a suspicious look.

“Nowhere,” Lan Xichen said.

“And we’re not going together,” Nie Huaisang added. “We just happen to be heading out at the same time.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression only turned more suspicious. If that Huang disciple had been easy to fool, it seemed Jiang Cheng remembered that Lan Qiren’s punishment of Nie Huaisang had made no mention of exceptions.

“Can I come with you?”

Lan Xichen gave the younger boy a puzzled smile, and turned to look at Nie Huaisang, awaiting his answer. He hadn’t noticed that the two boys had talked at all the previous day, but he wasn’t surprised either that they’d have some affinity.

They weren’t supposed to have met yet, but Lan Xichen remembered that they would become somewhat close the following year, especially after that Wei Wuxian boy would be sent home. He didn’t think the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had gone anywhere after they’d left the Cloud Recesses, but it would still be good for them to…

“No, I meant with you, Lan gongzi,” Jiang Cheng corrected with some embarrassment, having followed his gaze. “I had a few questions I’d like to ask you, about yesterday. Lan gongzi really was very impressive,” he explained with a small bow. “I hoped he might spare some time to teach me?”

The request startled Lan Xichen, as did the rather mild and calm tone in which it was made. Come to think of it, in that terrible future he’d very rarely interacted with Jiang Cheng without Wei Wuxian being present as well, who always unwittingly drew out the worst sides of his shidi’s personality. And then, after Wei Wuxian’s death… well, Jiang Cheng just hadn’t been a pleasant man with anyone.

He too would grow into a lonely man, Lan Xichen recalled, and the idea upset him. How much could have been changed, if he hadn’t relied so much on Meng Yao’s friendship, if Jiang Cheng had had someone on his side other than Wei Wuxian?

“I have an errand to run,” he explained, only to see Jiang Cheng’s face tighten at the apparent rejection. How odd, that he’d never noticed before that Jiang Cheng was a little sensitive, but he recalled an argument in that temple where Meng Yao would die, and… well. Sensitive was a mild thing to call it. “It’s fine if you come as well,” Lan Xichen heard himself say.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asked, sounding almost suspicious.

It would be a dreadful idea to think of dragging the son of a sect leader into the sort of places where Meng Yao could be expected to be found. But Jiang Cheng looked too pitiful to be left behind, and Lan Xichen decided even if this visit to Yunping City turned out to be a failure, he could always try to come again later. He’d have to lie about the reason why, but since it was for a good cause, he figured it wasn’t too big of a crime. In fact, maybe it was for the best if he gave up for the day. He hardly had a plan on how to deal with Meng Yao, anyway.

“I was also impressed by how well Jiang gongzi did yesterday,” Lan Xichen said with a smile. “For being so young, you are very competent already. I was wondering why Jiang zongzhu had brought his young son to a Night Hunt that could have been dangerous, but after seeing you in action I understand better.”

“Yes, Jiang gongzi was really impressive,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, as if he knew enough about martial arts to give his opinion. “Yunmeng Jiang trains for flexibility and speed, right? It really showed! And you have very good posture and a strong grip on your sword. I think even my brother would have found nothing to say against how you fought!”

Lan Xichen threw Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, surprised to hear him make such an accurate assessment of Jiang Cheng’s skill. Apparently lacking any talent himself didn’t stop him from understanding the strength of others.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks turned a little pink at the double praise.

“You’re both too generous,” he said in a tone of voice that made it obvious he thought he deserved the compliments. Then, quite suddenly, his face turned sour. “To be honest, I’m only here because Wei Wuxian was supposed to come as well and we work well as a team. But he got punished and had to stay behind. If you’d seen him, then…”

“That Wei person isn’t here though, so who cares about his skill!” Nie Huaisang cheerfully cut him. “If he got punished, he can’t be that good. Ah, but I really should get going now… Jiang gongzi, please entertain Lan gongzi for me, and I’ll see you both later when it’s time to leave!”

With this, Nie Huaisang darted away, the way he’d been wanting to do since Lan Xichen first saw him that morning. For someone so reluctant to do any physical exercise Nie Huaisang could run fast, and in the blink of an eye he had just disappeared in the sparse early morning crowd.

“What a weirdo,” Jiang Cheng remarked.

“He’s a very unique person,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I just hope he won’t get himself into too much trouble. Ah, well… shall we go?”

“Sure. What’s your errand? I’ve been here a few times before, maybe I can guide you around.”

For a brief moment, Lan Xichen was very tempted… but no. He would find another occasion to deal with Meng Yao. This was important too, he felt.

He'd been focused on saving Nie Mingjue, on protecting his sect's library, on averting Meng Yao's fate, because those had been the thing weighting down the man he would have become, but he didn't have to stop at that. There were many more tragedies in the world, small and big, and maybe Lan Xichen could change those too.

Maybe Jiang Cheng didn't need to grow with no friend but Wei Wuxian.

“Forget about my errand, it’s something that can wait. Instead, would Jiang gongzi show me around while we chat? I’m sure you know some interesting places.”

The praise, however mild, had an instant effect on Jiang Cheng who proudly nodded, and offered to take Lan Xichen to the market by the lake, where some sellers always had some unique things to sell, he claimed, as well as delicious food. Besides, if Lan Xichen didn't enjoy the market, then they'd have the option to just walk by the lake and enjoy the sight. It seemed like a pleasant enough plan so Lan Xichen agreed.

As they walked side by side, Jiang Cheng started asking questions about Lan Xichen's performance the previous day, and about Gusu Lan's style of cultivation in general. Jiang Cheng was surprisingly observant, it turned out, and quite curious as well as gifted with a good memory. He lacked the sheer genius that Wei Wuxian seemed to have, but hard work and stubbornness were valuable skills as well. After just this short chat, Lan Xichen thought it made sense that Jiang Cheng had managed to single-handedly raise his sect from the ashes, in that future that couldn't be allowed to happen.

He thought, also, that his future self had missed out by never taking the time to really talk to Jiang Cheng. The younger boy's character was a little rough around the edges, but he knew how to be polite, and some of his remarks showed an understanding of politics that surprised Lan Xichen. In some ways, Jiang Cheng reminded him of Nie Mingjue as he had been before rising to power.

When they reached the market, their conversation drifted to lighter topics. Jiang Cheng was disappointed at first to learn Lan Xichen was a strict vegetarian who couldn't handle any spice to his food, but quickly took it as a challenge to find something his companion could still taste. They also wandered from stall to stall, checking on the various wares offered. Lan Xichen was thinking of buying something for his brother, who had been quite unhappy to be left behind when Nie Huaisang had been invited, but wasn't sure what to pick. A year from then he could have gotten something rabbit themed and be done with it, but Lan Wangji hadn't yet developed a love for those animals, and was just impossible to shop for.

Just as Lan Xichen was about to ask for Jiang Cheng’s opinion, since he was of a similar age to Lan Wangji, a commotion further away in the market caught their attention. There seemed to be an argument happening just three stalls away from them, between a seller and a young customer whose voice Lan Xichen had the displeasure of instantly recognising.

Lan Xichen pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Of course Nie Huaisang would have gotten in trouble.

“Isn’t that…” Jiang Cheng started, squinting toward the altercation.

“It is. I’m sorry, Jiang gongzi, but I fear our little excursion ends here.”

Lan Xichen darted ahead, and couldn’t help feeling a little grateful when Jiang Cheng decided to follow, even though this didn’t concern him.

Nie Huaisang, it turned out, had gotten into an argument with a middle-aged man selling cultivation manuals. Both he and the man were shouting loudly at each other, sometimes trying to drag two other people into their fight, a boy whose face Lan Xichen couldn’t see but who even from the back was radiating embarrassment at being caught into this, and an elegant woman who looked just as ashamed.

“If you don’t want me to ruin your business, then you should have an honest one and this wouldn’t happen!” Nie Huaisang was shouting, pointing a threatening finger at the merchant even though the man was two heads taller and at least twice as large as him. “But if you scam people, then I’ll call you a scammer, and a disgrace as well. I’m going to denounce you to the Yunping Huang sect, and then they’ll just…”

“You’ll keep your stupid mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!” the merchant retorted. “Or else I’ll…”

“I’m not scared of you!” Nie Huaisang boasted. “You’re just a liar and a scammer and I’m not scared and I’m going to make sure you never sell fakes again!”

“I'll teach you some respect, you brat!" the man shouted, as he grabbed a sheathed sword from his stall and raised it above his head in a threatening manner.

There were a few frightened cries coming from the crowd that had gathered to watch the argument, but nobody seemed inclined to move forward and protect an insolent but scrawny child from a much more imposing adult when the adult in question had a weapon. Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng too only watched with some curiosity.

Even a cultivator as mediocre as Nie Huaisang could deal with such a situation. The merchant might have been big, but the way he moved and breathed showed he had no martial training at all, while Nie Huaisang was already positioning himself to avoid whatever blows might be thrown at him. And anyway, even without seeing the blade, Lan Xichen could tell that the man’s sword was of very low quality and would likely bend or shatter should it encounter the blade of Nie Huaisang’s high quality sabre… but it was unlikely it would come to that.

The issue of the fight was obvious to all watchers, although Lan Xichen guessed that most of the crowd was deeply wrong in their certainty.

Among those people was the boy standing near Nie Huaisang, and who appeared to be involved in the dispute as well. He and the woman with him had been trying to get out of this mess up until then, but seeing Nie Huaisang in apparent danger, the boy’s posture changed and he sprang forward when the merchant brought down his sword, pushing Nie Huaisang out of the way.

The boy cried in pain and fell to his knees when the sheathed sword hit his shoulder, while the woman with him gasped in horror and ran to his side to check on him, as did Nie Huaisang once he got over the surprise. It had not been a particularly hard blow. That merchant, regardless of his business practices, must have known that seriously harming even a particularly bratty teenager would turn the crowd against him. But the boy wasn’t strong, and even that light attack seemed to have been too much for him.

Sensing that the situation was about to go bad, Lan Xichen pierced through the crowd to try and calm things down, Jiang Cheng still trailing behind him.

There were a few murmurs when the two of them came into view. The people gathered there glanced at Lan Xichen dressed all in immaculate white, at Jiang Cheng in rich purple, took note of their posture, the sword at their hips, and started whispering among themselves. The merchant too, who had been so confident when arguing with Nie Huaisang, and who had started accusing the other boy of faking his injury, went pale when he realised that some true cultivators had joined them.

The man immediately started gathering his merchandise to run away, but wasn’t fast enough to stop Lan Xichen from grabbing one of the manuals on sale. He quickly browsed through it, and pinched his lips.

“That is indeed a fake,” Lan Xichen announced, much to the shock of the crowd. Then, behind him, the woman yelled in rage. She jumped to her feet and abandoned the hurt boy to throw herself at the merchant, slapping him so hard he dropped all his merchandise.

“You liar!” she shouted, trying to slap him a second time. “I’ve been buying from you for nearly a year! You said A-Yao would become a cultivator for sure with those!”

“They’re real, they’re real!” the merchant replied, trying to shield himself from her blows. “Maybe your son just doesn’t have what it takes!”

“No, he’s got it,” Nie Huaisang announced, causing all eyes to turn on him. He had kneeled down to grab one wrist of that other boy, and seemed to be inspecting his meridians for any sign of talent. “In fact, I think he could be very good. He just needs some real lessons.”

The boy’s mother stared at him for a moment. Her eyes were wide with surprise at first, but quickly her expression turned into one of triumph at the news of her son’s potential, before she became enraged again and started hitting the merchant once more, demanding her money back. After a moment, Jiang Cheng intervened, trying to calm down the woman while preventing the merchant from fleeing now that his crime had been exposed. Lan Xichen should have helped, he truly should have, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman’s son.

From Meng Yao.

Because that boy, shorter than Nie Huaisang but with a slightly broader frame, who looked dazed from the unexpected turn his morning had taken and perhaps also from the blow he’d suffered, was Meng Yao. Having seen his face there was no doubt possible, even if he was younger than Lan Xichen had ever known him. That boy was the one who, one day, would murder Nie Mingjue and many others, who would ingratiate himself in Lan Xichen’s good graces, who would use Lan XIchen's reputation as a shield before ultimately turning him into a hostage, only to die by his sword.

Lan Xichen felt his throat start to close, the now familiar choking sensation slowly seizing him as he watched Meng Yao, until…

“Really, you’ve got great potential,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he patted the other boy's hand. “You know, my da-ge is a sect leader. Maybe you’ve heard of us, Qinghe Nie? Well, my da-ge is its sect leader, and if I tell him about you, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to let you join us!”

“Nie Huaisang!” Lan Xichen cried out, his panic fading quickly in the face of absolute horror.

Everyone turning to stare at him. Meng Shi stopped trying to hit the crooked merchant, and liked her son seemed puzzled by his intervention. So was the crowd still watching everything unfold as if it were a particularly entertaining play. Jiang Cheng frowned but retained his hold on the merchant, while Nie Huaisang…

Nie Huaisang was not happy, a scowl forming on his face.

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t go around making this sort of offer,” Lan Xichen said, only to see Nie Huaisang’s expression grow darker still.

It wasn’t quite the open hatred he would have shown two decades in the future, at the second funeral of Nie Mingjue, the very last time they would have spoken.

It wasn’t far from it either, and that realisation made Lan Xichen shiver.

“I’m not saying anything unreasonable,” Nie Huaisang argued. “I know my da-ge, and if he hears about a competent person who wishes to become a cultivator, then for sure he’ll want to give them a chance. It’s the sort of person he is.”

Of course Nie Mingjue would give Meng Yao a chance. That was how Lan Xichen had ended up in this whole mess, wasn’t it?

“I am most grateful for these venerable immortals’ interest in my son,” Meng Shi said, returning near her son and bending to wrap an arm around his shoulders, the very picture of a proud mother. “But this will not be necessary. I have good hopes that someday my A-Yao will enter the Jin sect, and…”

“No!” Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang shouted at the same time.

Meng Shi startled at the cry, as did her son.

He looked so young, Lan Xichen thought. So young and innocent and… but of course, Meng Yao was innocent, more so than when they would have met in that other future. He hadn’t yet lost his mother, though Lan Xichen thought her complexion already betrayed early signs of illness. He also hadn’t yet been thrown down the stairs of Jinlin Tai by his own father, not for nearly another year, if Lan Xichen were to guess.

Meng Yao was just a boy, who hadn’t yet started on his path of murder and betrayal.

He was a boy who could still be saved, just like Nie Mingjue.

“Oh, I really wouldn’t recommend that you try joining Lanling Jin,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing Lan Xichen a suspicious look. “It’s not a very good place, not unless you’re born into money and power. Their sect leader is a bit of a prick, too.”

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t gossip,” Lan Xichen said out of habit, earning another glare.

“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth. Everyone knows Jin zongzhu is the worst,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Did you hear about that girl he seduced some years ago? Da-ge said she was just sixteen, and then she got with child, and then he told her that he’d take care of the child, and then he got bored and never went back again.”

“Oh, the one from that rich family in... what was it again? Mo village?” Jiang Cheng remarked. “I’ve heard mother talk about that one. She’d been pestering Jin zongzhu about taking their son into Lanling Jin, but he was worried his wife would figure it out. But Jin Furen still heard about it even like that, and she made a scene. That’s why he stopped going. Well, that and he’d started playing with that other girl… where was it, the one because of whom he didn't go home for two months?”

“No gossip,” Lan Xichen repeated without conviction, his eyes set on Meng Shi.

She’d gone pale at the mention of another bastard, paler still at the news that even a woman of higher standing than hers had failed to make Jin Guangshan keep his promises, but she said nothing and only tightened her grip on her son’s shoulders. Meng Yao too looked shaken by what Jiang Cheng had said, but he appeared less distraught than his mother, as if perhaps he’d already guessed this might be the case but kept on hoping for her sake more than his own.

“It’s really not gossip,” Nie Huaisang claimed, throwing Lan Xichen another annoyed look. “Anyway, Lan gongzi, what if you went to fetch Huang zongzhu and your uncle and Jiang gongzi’s father? Then you won’t have to hear anything that might upset you, and after we’ll get to deal with that man who scammed money out of honest people.”

Lan Xichen hesitated, glancing again toward Meng Shi. She didn't look like she might still try to send her son to Lanling after this, not for a long while at least. But to leave her with Nie Huaisang who had apparently decided to ruin all of Lan Xichen’s plans by inviting Meng Yao into Qinghe Nie.

And yet, there was no other option but for Lan Xichen to be the one who fetched the grown-ups.

If Nie Huaisang went, Lan Qiren would lose time scolding him, which would give that merchant a chance to run away, or to turn the crowd against them if he was smart… not to mention the Meng family probably had other business to deal with and wouldn’t wait forever, not even for a chance to enter a cultivation sect.

If Jiang Cheng went, he might just get ignored. Lan Xichen hadn’t personally seen it yet, but he knew his future self was aware that Jiang Cheng had a… complicated relationship with his parents, and Jiang Fengmian didn’t particularly favour his own son.

But if Lan Xichen went, his uncle would give him due attention, as he always did when Lan Xichen made it clear he considered a matter important. Perhaps he might even listen to his nephew’s argument in favour of a poor but talented young man, one righteous enough to get hurt trying to protect Nie Huaisang.

That might mean further punishment for Nie Huaisang but Lan Xichen, furious at the other boy for trying to ruin his great plan, didn’t feel particularly sorry about that.

“Nie gongzi, don’t make any more outrageous offers while I’m gone,” Lan Xichen ordered, then turned to Jiang Cheng. “I’m sorry to impose on you, Jiang gongzi, but please keep the situation under control for a little while. I know I can count on you, and I’ll try to be quick.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes, looking more angry at Lan Xichen than before, if that was possible. It mattered little, because Jiang Cheng’s face shone at being trusted like this by someone older, and he nodded with such serious that Lan Xichen felt a little less worried as he left the little group behind.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #operation: give everyone friends that aren't going to die/betray them

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saphirered · 3 years

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Hi there! You writings are wonderful. Please could you do an EssekXreader where the reader is from another high ranking den and is betrothed to Essek for political reasons. Both Essek and Reader aren't keen on the idea but eventually after spending time together realise they actually have feelings for each other, I'm thinking a bit like The Swan Princess. Please and thank you.

This is gonna be a two parter as the current draft already exceeds my usual word count limit 🙈 so stay tuned for part two in the next few days! Hope you enjoy 😘

Denial. It must be a cruel joke. Your family, your den they would never use you as a pawn in a bigger plot. This was all just a cruel joke or a move to assure their political advancement without the need to go through with this.

Anger. No. This is real. How dare they? How could they? They would use you like that? Without having the decency to let you know before the deal was made no less! Were it anyone else you’d crush them beneath your boot like the vermin they are for condemning you to a fate not of your own choosing. Perhaps you still might…

Bargain. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could just play your part and go your separate ways. A betrothal doesn’t have to end in a marriage. Even if it does, all that counts is appearances. Beyond that you could still have your own life right? You’d always be able to make the ‘me’ decision and wouldn’t have to take in account the ‘we’. Yes that should be right.

Depression. Your life is ruined! You’ll forever be tied to someone else without your consent. Your decisions will reflect on the many now. You’ll have to watch your every move and every choice or it may reflect terribly on your legacy. There’ll be expectations and can you ever live up to them while still being content with your own life or will you be sacrificing your happiness for something so stupid?

Acceptance. Acceptance…. Hell no!

Time for the first official meeting with Essek Thelyss in the context of your arrangement. You’d met many times before given both of your stations and reputations but now, you couldn’t help but feel a coldness towards the man regardless of what cordial or friendly dynamic you might have had in your limited social interactions.

Your respective families meet. You on your side, Essek on his. Both of you portray the facial expressions excepted of you; indifferent content. Nothing over excited nor anything remotely negative either but you’ve been raised a reader of the people and you could see through the cracks in Essek’s appearance. He’s just as happy with this arrangement as you are; not at all.

“It is a pleasure to meet you here today.” Essek speaks. The rules of engagement have not forgone any of you despite your discontent with this whole situation but for the sake of your watching families you’d play your parts. You’d put on a damn good show.

“You as well Shadowhand. Light be blessed we get to spend it in such magnificent company.” You can feel the approving look burn into the back of your head from your Denmother. They’d be none the wiser.

And so the negotiations began. All be damned if you did not at the very least were able to set some of your own terms in this arrangement. Fundings to sustain your lifestyle or a dowry were the least of your worries. You were more concerned with a place you could call your own, time to spend for yourself, security and stability and the ability to continue your life as is regardless of possible marriage. You would never give up your seat at the Bright Queen’s council and you’re very sure Essek wouldn’t give up his either.

Essek had to admit you played the game well. You’re a killer negotiator. Your persuasive side had shone at the Bastion more than once but those circumstances are wholly different than these. Your ability to make it sound like these ideas came from your den and not yourself, and have them think these suggestions were their ideas in the first place is simply remarkable. Remarkable and dangerous. Respect. But no matter how good of a talker you are, or he is for that matter, neither of you could get out of this.

Afternoon tea, a few lunches and dinners here and there and even a few events you were forced to attend with Essek as your escort under the careful watch of your dens. Whenever you were sure they were out of earshot you did not make it unknown neither of you wanted to be here and would prefer to be as far away from each other as possible.

Then there were the times you swore you might actually be able to like the Shadowhand. Councils held lead to many arguments, the Bright Queen watching the court fight among themselves for a next course of action, fundings to be divided and efforts to be pursued. You always kept a level head not allowing yourself to get worked up, or at least appear you weren’t but sometimes you could strangle the life out of some of these fools.

To your surprise in some of these occasions Essek would take your side and support your arguments, concerns and points brought up in debates. So he does know what’s good for him after all? Those moments were quickly ruined by the next point on the schedule where you’d be at opposing sides again. Usually you’d be able to work up an opponent in debate until their credibility would be questioned but Essek had caught onto your games and was no fool. If you could keep your cool, so could he. You had learned how to push his buttons as he had yours.

After a particularly heated debate the Bright Queen dismissed the dens, done with the bickering and infighting for the day. You couldn’t blame her even though there were still many things unspoken. You and Essek were at odds once more and you couldn’t be happier to be done for the day and head somewhere you wouldn’t be forced to interact with the asshole.

Conferring with your allies, trying to gain support of others, you grabbed your things ready to leave the Bastion. There he floated in the anti-chamber eyes cold focussed on you, waiting. You pretend you don’t notice and keep walking for the exit. Essek calls your name as you’re about to pass him. You don’t respond and keep going. He calls again. No response. He grabs your arm stopping you in your tracks. How you’d hoped to escape this confrontation.

“A moment of your time please.” The words leave his lips with an artificial, well-practiced warmth. Oh you’re fighting so hard to contain yourself but you too had a facade to keep up.

“Another time perhaps. I’ve grown quite exhausted after the day’s events. If you will excuse me.” You smile innocently placing your hand over his secured around your wrist. You pry your fingers beneath forcing him to release his grasp on you.

“Then allow me to escort you back home. Should you be able to muster up the strength to converse on our path I’d love nothing more than to just hear your voice.” Essek encases your hands between his. Eyes of the dens fall upon the two of you in the middle of the anti-chamber. Essek is known to be a reserved individual and these advances definitely stand out.

Oh so that’s the game we’re playing. Asshole move, Shadowhand. Two can play this game. If it’s the company you’re currently in he’s using against you you can do the same. You take a step closer to him standing on your tiptoes and lean in to press your lips to his cheek. You linger just a little and whisper into his ear.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You allow the distaste to bleed through your barely audible words before you pull away and take a step back. You couldn’t refuse his ‘generous offer’. It might make you look bad so you smile bright and nod even managing to call on a fake blush like some lovesick fool. From the corners of your eyes you notice the court members whisper among each other. Good. Let them talk. You link your arm through Essek’s still carrying your things.

“I believe I might have forgotten my transcripts of the day. Would you mind joining me in retrieving them?” So whatever the wizard needed to discuss with you he couldn’t say in public… Oh Essek what a mistake you made… That certainly offers you some opportunities to use to your advantage.

“Nonsense! I have my transcripts. You’re free to borrow them, or perhaps you’d like to study them with me? It might give us the opportunity to come to a compromise without wasting the Council’s time. After all, there’s much more pressing matters.” His expression might be a thankful one but if looks could kill… you’d be introduced into your next life this very second.

You begin leading Essek out of the building not allowing him any response or comeback for your previous statement. You walk head held high catching onto the praises of others. ‘A great match’? If only they knew…

Your walk continued in seething silence from Essek. Until you reached your home. Opening the door and leaning against the doorframe making sure no one else is in sight, you smirk at him.

“I’m curious. If I refused to part with these,” You hold up the transcripts. “What would you do? Would you go back and receive your own copies or would you go without them?” You leaf through the pages. It’s not like you needed them. You already had all you needed memorised so if anything they’d go into your archives for future reference and case study if necessary. Essek doesn’t dignify you with an answer yet so you continue to press his buttons.

“Would you be able to discredit my every word or counter them without the direct word for word reference? Would your arguments hold any weight against my own? Or would you be forced to depend on the vote or Light’s mercy, the Bright Queen’s verdict because if the latter, you’ve already lost, my dear.” You can’t hold back the smugness in your achievements. The look of defeat brought you satisfaction.

Essek bites his tongue. Even he knows that in theoretics you have the upper hand now. Recalling your words from memory alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d needed to cite them exactly providing the transcript in your possession. He couldn’t go back or it might arise questions, questions he couldn’t afford at this moment. What caught him off guard was you offering him the transcript still. He takes it before you can change your mind, the pages disappearing beneath his cloak.

“Luckily for you I’m not your enemy. Yes we might disagree on matters of state but at the end of the day we’re going to be stuck together and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Essek doesn’t know wether he should be wary, outright suspicious, or glad you’ve come up with a plan amidst the chaos.

“A truce. If we keep these antics going it will lead to a war between the two of us. Are you really prepared to be expected to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve grown to hate? Because I’m not. I’d rather sleep in my bed withe the comfort of knowing my partner will not stab me in the back or sabotage me at every opportunity he gets.” Partner. He. Not they. He. So not even you had a way out of this betrothal.

“Resentment grows much faster than affection.” Essek deadpans. Yes he sees your reasonings and you make some solid arguments but that doesn’t mean he has to trust your motives. He’s aware you in your position are much more dangerous than any spy, assassin or foreign force.

“Light be with me.” You’re exasperated. You’re offering an olive branch and this is his response? You pull him inside and close the door dropping the act entirely within the confines of your own home knowing no one will be watching you here.

“I am not offering you an epic enemies to lovers tale! I’m offering to make the best out of a situation neither of us actually want to be in! Marriage is just another contract. We do what is expected of us by following it to the letter and nothing more, nothing less. Love or affection is not part of that contract but respect is.” Essek takes in your words and considers them making sure you’re not twisting things in such a way you could later use against him or to your advantage.

“Your logic is sound and your arguments persuasive.” You raise your hand in an exasperated ‘thank you’ as he straightens your back and looks down at you.

“Very well. We have an agreement.” You’re on the verge of letting out a breath of relief at Essek agreeing to your terms and suggestions. You’d rather be sure this man isn’t going to drop you on a different plane in your sleep once you’ll be forced to share a home. You’d rather know you can trust him to have your back despite your grievances. At the end of the day, you both want to survive.

“Match made in Elysium.” Sarcasm is clear in your voice and the both of you cannot help but smile. More like match made in hell with the ‘letter of the law’ approach to navigating your predicament.

—————

Pacing back and forth fingers pressed to your lips in thought of Essek’s sitting room you ponder the terms of your agreement. Essek himself is seated on the couch leaning over a two sheets of paper, a long list of demands from both sides written on each.

“Next up housing.” You announce. Essek fiddles with the pen looking over the lists.

“I’m not willing to part with my towers unless something of equal or greater value is returned. I need space for my practices, experiments and studies.”

“I’ll agree to part with my own home under the terms you will share your personal resources with me and I will have amicable space for my own pursuits be this here or at another place of our mutual choosing.” Essek considers your terms on this matter. They are agreeable but this is a negotiation and neither of you are refraining from pushing for an outcome to suit yourself best.

“We will share my home then but we will both share our resources unless they pertain to exclusively personal matters or those of state when we inevitably find ourselves on opposing sides in the Bastion.” You stop pacing and turn to face Essek. He watches for your responses.

“I get my own tower.” You counter.

“That’s preposterous. I have need for certain rooms and areas for my studies and cannot relocate them.”

“Fine. Then I’ll get all unoccupied or unnecessary rooms.”

“You’ll get your own private bedchambers, study and sitting room just as I’ll have mine. These chambers will be exclusive and privacy to be respected. Other spaces save for my laboratory, for your own safety, are communal.” By the expression on your face Essek knows you’ve caught him in a loophole.

“Agreed. We’re entitled to our private spaces and will share the unspecified ones. Kitchen, dining room, living area… library…” You caught hime there… Essek’s expression turns sour. He’d have preferred to keep that one to himself but the agreement is fair.

“I wish to make an amendment.”

“Name your terms.”

“Some shelves will belong to my private collection. You will refrain from touching these tomes and scrolls without my explicit permission.” You ponder not entirely convinced. There’s nothing in there for you and Essek knows it. You raise an eyebrow for him to continue and concede on a previously negotiated term for this amendment to go through.

“And in return, you get to redecorate our communal spaces how you see fit, within the realms of reason.” Essek empathises the latter part of his statement.

“Agreeable.” You nod. “Next up; social engagements.”

The two of you go back and forth agreeing, adjusting, and conceding to come to an equal understanding and finalise your arrangement. Over all, it went surprisingly well. It certainly was a nice change of scene to have somewhat friendly negotiations without the added pressure of the dens and the Bright Queen herself watching you.

Essek makes for a good conversationalist and you might even dare say you enjoyed your afternoon setting the terms and conditions. Maybe you could be friends after all. That would be nice.

#critical role #critical role x reader #mighty nein #mighty nein x reader #essek thelyss x reader #essek x reader #essek #essek thelyss #critrole x reader

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nervousladytraveler · 3 years

Text

@veryflowerobservation asked me for a little story with a very specific plot line. While I doubt this is what they had in mind (apologies in advance) this is what came to me over my morning coffee. Also, I’ve been reading Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, and am indebted to her for the world (and tone) of that novel that I borrowed here.

---

She was already seated at a table in a quiet back corner when Ross entered the restaurant. A sandwich sat in front of her--untouched. How long had she been waiting? Ross hadn’t been late. In fact he was rather pleased with his timing.

He’d only just found her note a mere half hour before he was to meet her. He’d almost missed it--a small piece of folded paper deposited on his desk and no one claimed to have seen the messenger.

Dear Mr. Poldark, it read. Please meet me, if you can, noon today. The Drake. Important item to be discussed. Yours, Miss D. Carne. The ink had smeared a bit revealing an impatient or untidy author.

He remembered Miss Carne. Often, if he were to be honest. He smiled at the physical feelings associated with the memory and was on his feet shuffling for his coat before he’d thought it all through. After a late breakfast, he wasn’t hungry yet his curiosity was piqued by such a veiled message. Then again cryptic was the nature of their business, he supposed.

Ross hadn’t wanted the job but was cajoled, battered--railroaded really. But his gallantry in the previous war and in his off-the-record jaunts in between, not to mention his Good Family (“So many Poldarks already in the high ranks, you know”) were all tallied up. If Ross was trying to slip away from duty unnoticed, it seemed he was his own worst enemy. And if he had a choice, he’d have preferred to return to the army, but his ankle still bore shrapnel from ‘17 and apparently he wasn’t needed in that capacity.

“We need trustworthy men inside, Poldark,” some smart Undersecretary and an older but oh so reputable Colonel had huffed. They nodded in agreement with one another, and without waiting for an answer, had begun making plans for Ross in an unmarked office at the end of a serpentine hall in That Building.

The last thing Ross wanted was to be trusted with someone else’s secrets and yet, there he was--working for the War Time Government, which he soon learned was a very different machine than the one they’d elected in times of peace, the one everyone thought they knew. And once he saw the ways the gears really moved, Ross was certain most would prefer not to know much about this one at all.

Miss Carne, the author of the note and the guardian of the untouched sandwich, was one of the girls in the unmarked office. The department that didn’t really exist on paper needed scores of young women to keep it running.

She was different from the other girls. Not just a typist but clever--she was always solving problems, often before they were discovered, and saving the men who didn’t really exist on paper from very real embarrassment.

Ross hadn’t many dealings with her. Well, not until that one night when he got to know her quite well.

It had been a Thursday and there had been cocktails out--what had been the occasion? War had already been declared so it was quite unusual to have held a work do. Why was she even there?

He remembered the dress she wore--blue satin--and the way it fit her. Like a glove. No, more like water in a stream rippling smoothly over immovable stones. It made him feel at ease to look at her and he knew how the night would end.

In the all the secretarial pools across the city, few girls had their clothes tailored--who had time or money? So when they ventured out after work, they sported those subtle signs of economy--gaping necklines or tight stretches across the middle. Their one good dress hadn’t been replaced in so many years but their bodies had changed with the war. Rationing had left them scrawny or cheap gin had left them bloated.

Oh but those girls tried, didn’t they? They carried on the best they could. With their lips so brightly made up they could violate the black out, they were hell bent on keeping up the spirits of the lads. Wartime made for an interesting and furtive nightlife. Of course the nice girls, the ones with breeding and good dress makers weren’t out much at all these days.

But this one, Miss Carne, with her red hair--real, not from a bottle--and a fitted dress the colour of the sea at twilight, was different. Demelza was her name. It sounded like some yet-undiscovered gem. Rare as hell and essential to keep out of enemy hands. She didn’t seem to belong in either world--not the world of well dressed would-be fiancees nor the seedy boîtes, that were filled after hours when the good girls were tucked up in their bunkers.

The hotel Ross had taken Demelza to after they’d left the party was nice enough. Not the Savoy but it had a toilet ensuite and the sheets were clean. She was not Ross’s first affair so he knew how to be discreet when signing the register. He needn’t have bothered--the concierge clearly hadn't cared.

He remembered the sound of that blue dress as he unfastened it down the back. A crisp zip in an otherwise quiet room. That and her breathing and his heart beating in his chest. The sounds of anticipation. Before the dress slipped from her shoulders and his hands clasped her naked body to him.

Today she wore a stiff woolen frock the colour of filing cabinets. It reminded him of a wall of sandbags, protecting a hidden softness beneath. Still the zipper would sound the same.

“Miss Carne,” he smiled and held out his hand to her. He contemplated kissing hers when it was finally offered but sensing some unspoken chill, he refrained. He sat down opposite and gave his serviette a merry snap.

She twisted her lips when she spied the gold band on his left hand.

“You're married?” she began, raising one perfect brow. Was it naturally arched or was that her own artistry?

He might have wanted to scrutinize her face, to map out what was artifice and what was real, but at that moment he didn’t dare look her in the eye.

“Yes, I am,” he said, just a decibel louder than a mumble. “And yes, I was married when we…” He took a gulp from his water glass.

“And yet there was no ring that night,” she mused. She had no problem with eye contact, her blue eyes remained fixed on his face.

“We...uh...we were in the midst of a separation then but the war has made us rethink things…”

We. Us. There wasn’t really an us. Elizabeth was merely feeling scared and lonely, between lovers, and suddenly liking the idea of a strong husband about. But since then her plans to retreat home to Cornwall, first spoken of as a ‘hypothetical perhaps’, had started to come to fruition. She’d been packing a trunk for some days now and was fretting about whether to take just some of her furs, or all of them. She was clearly planning to stay away. Ross’s response was to arrange a driver.

“Well then,” Demelza said and pushed away her plate. “That will complicate things but doesn’t change reality one bit,” she continued crisply.

It was an office voice. With it she would manage the girls under her with confidence and efficiency. No time for emotion, yet it wasn’t sour. Must keep morale up. They had jobs to do and every memo taken, every letter filed, was a fulfillment of their duty.

It was not the soft, easy voice that laughed in his ear as she lay next to him on the pillow in the blacked out room. The dusky voice that had whispered his name as he crawled up her body like a soldier crawling through mud. On a mission. Towards his target.

“It seems, Mr. Poldark, that I’m to have a baby.”

He held his glass aloft and stared at her.

“What?” he spat. “Well, it can’t be...I didn’t…not in...” Of course he couldn’t utter those words in daylight. Not over a sandwich at lunchtime. One needed a stiff drink before dissecting the mechanics of love. Yet somehow he knew it was possible. He thought he’d been careful not to leave seed in the field. Now it hit him he’d in fact laid a land mine.

“Well it doesn’t really matter what you believe you did not do, because apparently whatever you did, was enough,” she responded coolly.

He didn’t dare ask if there were any others who might stand accused with him in the dock. His gut told him she wasn’t that type. And though she hadn’t confirmed it during their night together--nor had he looked for evidence later--he suspected she’d been intact before he took her to bed. Oh, she’d been a quick learner!

He also sensed that she’d rather be sitting across from just about anyone else than talking to him now, so she certainly wasn’t trying to trap him.

“Are...are you sure? I...I need to think,” he said, aware that he sounded like an old Spitfire whose propeller couldn’t quite get going. So much sputtering.

She lit a cigarette, took one long drag, then ground it out carefully in the ashtray. No doubt she’d revisit that same fag again later, at a time when she was less impatient, when she could enjoy it alone.

“Well, you do that then,” she said, and gathered her handbag, ready to take her leave.

“Wait! Where are you going? How can I reach you?” His words came out in a fast and frantic stream. The engine had started--the sputter became a steady buzz filling the room.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head lightly. Today her hair was held back with tortoise shell combs on either side. Tidy, discreet, and appropriate for an unmarked office. Or any office.

He recalled his hands getting lost in a sea of those curls, fistfuls he’d grasped in passion. An unexpected lifeline, it had seemed at the time, that prevented him from drowning.

He felt himself going under again.

“Now you want to reach me, Mr. Poldark?” she said archly.

“Hey--you left me! You were the one who waltzed out of that hotel room while I was asleep, without so much as a backwards glance,” he growled. He’d been rankled that she continued to call him Mister Poldark, especially when he could still hear her hiss in his ear--Ross--while her body bucked under his.

“I assure you it wasn’t a waltz,” she said. And that was all she said. At least she didn’t claim she’d been trying to save him the embarrassment of a morning after. “I share a flat with another girl in Kingley Street. We don't have a telephone but you can find me at the office--unless I get reassigned in the next few days. There are changes coming, I’ve been told.”

She rose to her feet and towering over him, nodded.

Ross tried to stand up quickly--to plead with her to stay? To follow her out? He couldn't say what his intentions had been but it mattered little. He was too slow. His legs got twisted under the narrow table, his chair scraped awkwardly, and the remaining lunch things began to tip before he caught them with his broad hands. He narrowly avoided one mess, aware that he had quite another still to be cleared up.

And just like that she was gone. Leaving her entire sandwich and almost-intact cigarette behind afterall.

In a strange flash, Ross was surprised she didn't offer to pay for her own lunch. Of course a gentleman should pick up the bill for a lady no matter the circumstances, but there was something so determined and iron about her now, that he couldn’t imagine her allowing anyone to help her.

And yet help her he must. Somehow.

He felt his pockets frantically for a scrap of paper but only found a stub of a pencil.

Kingley Street, he scrawled on the back of a matchbook. He had no house number, nothing else to go.

Could he ask someone to watch the street? He knew some blokes who would do a job like that--a stake out--for the right price. Or was he better off handling this himself, intercepting her at work? Even if she did get moved to a different sector--one that also did not officially exist--he might have channels to find her.

He sat back in his chair and reached for her cigarette. He imagined it smelled like her but he lit it anyway. It helped him to relax for just a moment while he planned his next move.

Ross knew he had a duty to this woman--to their child if one was to be--and while that was an overwhelming and unforeseen realisation, he was taken aback by a different unexpected sensation.

Desire.

He wanted her. Again. Now.

And he had to find her.

#poldark fanfic #poldark modern au #london blitz #ross poldark #demelza carne #blue dress #fastens down the back

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mittelfrank-divas · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 4

In which lunchtime and whispers are had

Read on AO3

===

Hubert knew, the moment that he stepped into the dining hall, that something had changed. The air was charged with an energy that rippled among the students, sparking and crackling with mutters and whispers throughout the tables.

He automatically stepped closer to Edelgard as she wove between clusters of students and covertly tried to scan the room for any sign of danger. Hubert was paranoid about her safety at the best of times, and the tiniest atmospheric shift was enough to make him assume a threat was nearby.

Edelgard knew this. When he stepped so close to her that the front of his jacket brushed the back of hers, she automatically slowed her pace and shifted her stance so that he could remain there: a shadow just behind her left shoulder. It meant that any threat would be hard-pressed to separate them, that he was taking the place of the shield that she would carry only on the battlefield, that with hardly a moment's notice he could use the teleportation spell that he'd spent years honing in secret, and move her to safety.

It also meant that when they stopped at the back of the lineup to await their turn at the front counter, he could easily dip his head close to hers and mutter a few words in her ear.

"More eyes are on you than usual, I think." Hubert caught a few glances thrown their way even as he said it. Had some part of their plan been uncovered? The Flame Emperor had been busy as of late, and despite all of their efforts to distance Edelgard from that persona, there was no telling what infinitesimal detail they might have overlooked that would tip somebody off. Or was movement in the Empire starting to reach noble ears, raising questions about the future emperor?

Edelgard reached up to fix one of the ribbons in her hair so that she could easily turn her head to the side and survey the room. After a moment, her head bumped gently against Hubert's jaw. "I don't think it's me they're looking at."

"What do you--" a series of particularly loud giggles drew Hubert's attention to the door on the opposite side of the hall. A trio of students were clustered conspiratorially together. One of them -- Hilda Goneril, judging by the pink hair -- popped her head up and looked directly at him, grinning wickedly.

"Oh. Oh no." The way that Hubert's blood ran cold, one would think that being caught conspiring against the church would be a preferable alternative. At least heresy was a crime that Hubert could be proud of.

Edelgard stared blankly ahead, her voice just loud enough for Hubert to hear over the din of the hall. "It seems that word of our chosen candidate has spread quickly."

"It is not too late for me to poison today's meal," Hubert offered weakly.

"Far too late, I'm afraid. Half the students have already finished." From where Hubert stood behind her, he could see the corner of Edelgard's mouth twitch in amusement.

He endured the slow, meandering pace of the lunch line, sharply aware of every muttering voice, every tittering laugh echoing throughout the crowded hall, certain that each one of them was directed his way. It was some minutes before he realized that he was still pressed defensively close to Edelgard, as if the mere stares of other students qualified as a deadly threat. She had made no move to pull away either, as if sensing that perhaps this was now a matter of Hubert's own reassurance.

When they finally reached the front of the line, he blindly grabbed at the first plate he saw regardless of its contents and turned to march toward their usual table, only to be met with the sight of Ferdinand von Aegir engaged in a lively chat with the Gloucester heir. Hubert hardly understood how anybody could stand the pompous Leicester noble, but somehow Ferdinand's smile was bright as ever.

"Traitorous gossip," Hubert muttered.

"Not necessarily," Edelgard said, breezing past him to find a seat. "Let us gain confirmation that he is the source of our troubles before we contemplate our method of execution."

Even with the anxious fury brewing in Hubert's chest, he released a chuckle. "As you wish, Lady Edelgard."

There were no designated house tables in the dining hall, given that it was a space used by all Garreg Mach residents, students and knights and clergy alike. Meal times were one of the few regular occasions when the houses could mingle, and social butterflies like Ferdinand and Dorothea took full advantage of that.

It had come as some surprise, then, only a few days into the start of the school year, when some of the Black Eagles had started gravitating toward the distant corner that he and Edelgard always seated themselves in. It had been an unspoken assumption between the two of them, that their classmates would be relieved to be rid of their presence between class times. It was almost a certainty that the other students would not choose to prolong their time with the future emperor and her dreary attendant.

How shocking it had been, the first time Caspar dropped his tray next to Hubert and started shouting something about a fight he'd just come from before he'd even finished sitting down. When Linhardt drifted sleepily over soon after. When Petra excitedly pushed a book in front of Edelgard to tell her about her history reading. Once or twice Bernadetta even ventured into the dining hall in the quieter hours, and latched onto the two of them as a lone source of familiarity in the otherwise chaotic space. Even Dorothea and Ferdinand found time to join them.

It was seldom that all of them gathered at once. Black Eagles trickled in and out of their orbit, sometimes staying only long enough to steal something from each other's plates before fleeing, but it seemed to now be tradition for some of them to always be waiting in that same designated corner for Edelgard and Hubert.

Today they found Linhardt already napping there with his head on the table, while Caspar rapidly shovelled the remainder of both their lunches into his mouth.

"Hey!" Caspar shouted through a mouthful. "Is it true Hubert's planning to poison the other contestants?"

Edelgard primly took her seat across from Linhardt, leaving Hubert the unfortunate position of witnessing Caspar's open-mouth chewing at close range. "I don't recall any such plan," she said. "Where did you hear such a ghastly idea?"

Caspar paused long enough in his food-shovelling to swallow some of it. "Oh, I overheard Ingrid talking about it on the training grounds. I didn't know that sort of thing was allowed for dance competitions."

So that was both rival houses now aware of Hubert's entry into the competition. He glanced past Caspar's shoulder to see Dorothea with Ingrid and Sylvain. Surely his tutor was not responsible for this treachery -- no, not even with the slightly too loud giggle that rang out every time Ingrid said something. Dorothea's flirtations were as calculated as any strategist's. She would not so easily lose her head, no matter how pretty her enemy's face.

"I would very much like to know who has taken it upon themselves to reveal our plans to the entire academy," Hubert growled.

Caspar shrugged. "Not me. Does it really matter? Everyone would have found out eventually anyway, right?"

"I would have preferred..." Hubert fumbled for some reasonable way to finish that sentence. He would have preferred for it to be a secret that he carried to his grave, but that was hardly a logical position to state out loud. "A more tactical reveal," he finally stated.

A sound emanated from the depths of Linhardt's arms, inside of which his face was buried, that could have been mistaken for a snore if it were not followed up with words. "What sort of tactics did you have in mind? Were you planning on preserving your anonymity through the competition? Perhaps you could have turned out all the lights and had the judges witness your performance only by the sound of your feet?"

Hubert glared uselessly at the green mop of Linhardt's hair, knowing his ire was going unseen and unremarked. "I was not, but please inform me if you have any other ideas of this calibre."

"Regardless of whether this was the plan or not, we can make use of this." Edelgard's pale eyes had that sharp look to them as she watched the other students move about the hall. It was a look that told Hubert she was already formulating a plan, and therefore a look that eased his nerves considerably more than any attempts to comfort him would have.

"You believe so?"

She directed her attention down to her plate, letting her empty fork play close to her mouth so that it would be more difficult for others to read her lips. Edelgard took everything deadly seriously, including a school competition. Especially a school competition. "Our opponents believe your entry into this contest is a joke? Let them go on believing that. It is better to be underestimated, is it not?"

Hubert's frown remained where it was. This was not, evidently, a plan that involved fleeing Garreg Mach or locking himself in Abyss until the competition was over with. "That is true."

"Besides," Edelgard directed a proud smirk at him. "If the other houses want to believe that we must cheat to best them, then they are only revealing their own weaknesses."

Hubert found himself slightly disappointed to learn that cheating was an option that they would not be choosing to take. "Even so, I am concerned that our class is apparently incapable of keeping even so small a secret. Perhaps our professor can lead a lesson on discretion."

Edelgard perked up. "Ah, well we can ask them about that right now. Hello, my teacher."

Byleth drifted through the crush of students in the same calm, self-assured way that they did everything, taking their seat beside Caspar. "Hello. Ask about what?"

Linhardt shifted so that a single eye could be seen peering out from the dark crevice between his arms and his bangs. "Hubert thinks you might help him teach his way out of being the subject of salacious gossip."

Byleth blinked slowly at Linhardt while Hubert quietly stabbed at the roast pheasant on his plate, realizing too late the mistake he had made in blindly accepting the first dish he had spotted. It was smothered in tooth-achingly sweet berry reduction, making it fit only as the subject of his frustration. Edelgard came to the rescue. "What he means to say is that it seems the entire academy is already aware that Hubert is our candidate, and we are not sure who has revealed it to the other houses."

"Oh." Byleth nodded before scooping up a forkful of mashed turnip. "I did."

Hubert paused in eviscerating his lunch. "Ah. Betrayed by the very top. I should have predicted it."

Byleth tilted their head. "Should I not have? Professor Manuela said she needed to know."

Linhardt yawned. "Ah, out-maneuvered by the songstress. We should have seen that coming."

"My teacher," Edelgard said tactfully, "did you happen to ask her who the other contestants might be?"

Byleth regarded her. "Should I have?"

"It might help. After all, when devising a strategy, it is always best to know who your opponents are, is it not?"

"I suppose that is true," their professor answered calmly, without any hint of awareness that they were being gently chastised. "I will ask her next time I see her."

Edelgard sighed. "I suppose we'll have no choice but to wait for you to report back."

"No need," Dorothea chimed in, drifting into the conversation as if she had been there all along. She squatted down at the end of the table, elbows planting between Edelgard and Linhardt's plates and chin resting on her hands. "Sylvain is more than happy to brag to any girl within earshot that he's representing the Lions. To hear him tell of it, he's been a dancing prodigy since the moment he learned how to walk."

"And is he?" Edelgard prompted, never wasting an opportunity to gather intel.

Dorothea laughed, before she noticed the serious look on Edelgard's face. "Edie, bragging is just what Sylvain does. I don't think he's told a single true story about himself in his life. The guy is all charm and no substance, trust me. He might get a few points for his smile, but I doubt he'll bring much more than that."

"Then that is one advantage that the Blue Lions have over us," chimed in Linhardt's muffled voice. "Our candidate has a smile that could make the goddess herself weep."

"Truly, your gifts of observation are breathtaking as always," Hubert grumbled, knowing that it was hardly inaccurate. Sylvain Jose Gautier was the sort of person who oozed charm merely by existing. A single wink from that charismatic redhead could easily overshadow all other factors of a performance. A wink from Hubert would more likely be mistaken for a threat.

Edelgard's focus had not wavered from Dorothea's smiling face. The Empire's future ruler sensed a threat to their success, and Hubert knew by the way her lips pursed that she would not be satisfied until she saw a method of neutralizing that threat. "I want to be certain. Do you think you could gather more intel about his ability?"

Dorothea smiled indulgently back at her, tilting her head so that the long curls of her hair tumbled down her arms over the edge of the table. "Oh, Edie. Getting nobility to talk too much is what I do."

It was remarkable how Edelgard softened in the face of that smile. Hubert had so rarely seen her gain reassurance from anybody other than himself. He once again felt a swell of gratitude toward Dorothea. "Alright," Edelgard conceded. "I will trust in your abilities on that front."

"Then that deals with the more straightforward of our opposition," muttered Hubert.

Caspar paused in his eager consumption of his third lunch (Hubert's). "How is any of that straightforward?"

Edelgard did not even need to check with Hubert before answering. She knew his thought process well. "Because the Blue Lions are the most straightforward of the classes. They approach every threat exactly the same way: directly and forcefully. Once we know their candidate's skill and style, they will become a predictable foe. The same cannot be said for the Golden Deer."

"Claude von Riegen does nothing without some scheme," Hubert muttered. The thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps all these rumors about his own plans to do harm to the judges or other contestants might be intentionally helped along by somebody who would benefit from them. How easy would it be for Claude to slip something into Sylvain's drink the day of the competition and watch as all eyes turned to Hubert when the poison became apparent?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unmistakable voice thundering above the din. "Oh yes, it is quite thrilling. I've not seen the school this fired up since the mock battle. Of course, were I our class's representative..." Ferdinand, having apparently gotten his fill of treasonous gossip, was nearing their table with Petra. How she tolerated his bluster was a mystery to Hubert.

"Well you're not, Ferdie, so you can stop complaining about that any day now." Dorothea had perched herself on the corner of the table next to Linhardt's head, thus fully designating the area as unfit for food consumption at this time. Linhardt made no complaint of this, taking the opportunity to treat Dorothea's hip as an additional pillow.

Ferdinand frowned at her as he claimed a seat beside the Professor. In an act of small mercies, this meant that Petra moved to sit beside Hubert instead. "I was only going to say that I would have chosen to announce my candidacy immediately. Is it not something to be proud of?" He fixed Hubert with a gleaming smile that made Hubert contemplate how far into the depths of Abyss he would need to fall to escape it. "You must be excited by it, surely."

Hubert found himself wishing that he had not sacrificed his plate to Caspar's appetite so that he would have some excuse to look anywhere other than that dazzling expression. "My excitement knows no limits."

"Ferdinand," Edelgard leaned toward him. "You're friendly with the Gloucester boy, aren't you? What have you learned about the Golden Deer's plans?"

Ferdinand's chest immediately swelled with pride. "How right of you to value my insights into this matter. Why of course Lorenz would have been a prime candidate for this contest, but he tells me he humbly declined the offer to represent his house. Worry not, for you shall have a worthy opponent, Hubert. The Golden Deer are putting forth Miss Marianne von Edmund to represent them."

Blank expressions and quietly exchanged looks were all that met Ferdinand's announcement. Caspar finally voiced what much of the table must have been thinking: "Which one's that again?"

"Daughter of Margrave Edmond, correct?" Edelgard looked to Hubert for confirmation, though his returned nod was unnecessary. The two of them had poured over class lists in the weeks leading up to their arrival at Garreg Mach, gathering all the intel they could about their future classmates. Margrave Edmond was well known, but his daughter remained all but a mystery, even now. Hubert had investigated her, found only a shy creature who hardly spoke, and passed her over as likely a harmless noblewoman with little interest in political affairs. Now he cursed himself for not considering her possible importance sooner.

"Oh," Linhardt finally deigned to lift his head from the table. "The one without a crest. Allegedly." There was a glimmer in his eye that Hubert recognized as scholarly fervor, and he wondered if Linhardt would be sleeping through tomorrow's class after once again losing himself in an all-night study session. "A very interesting girl, that one."

"For once, possessing a crest or not is not relevant to this competition," Edelgard said crisply, heading off whatever new theory was bubbling in Linhardt's mind. "Ferdinand, do you know anything about the Edmond girl? Will she pose a significant threat?"

Ferdinand beamed again at the attention. Two questions from Edelgard in a row must have been the highlight of his day, Hubert mused. How exciting for him to be able to show off in front of his imagined rival. "I admit that I do not know her well. She keeps to herself quite a bit. But you will not find a more gentle soul. I suspect that she has quite a bit of talent hidden away."

"Rather unlike Von Riegan to choose someone so reticent." Hubert found himself frowning. "What game is he playing?"

"Why should he be playing a game?" Petra asked. "Perhaps he is choosing for skill."

"Perhaps so," he admitted, not at all convinced. Hubert thought that he should have been reassured to have his opponents' names in his arsenal now. No battle was won without intel, after all. But somehow the knowledge made the competition more than just some distant, theoretical goal. There were other people involved now. People who would bear witness to whatever foolish performance he presented.

The noise and the imagined stares of the crowded hall suddenly became too much. Hubert stood. "It seems that I have little time to dally here. By your leave, Lady Edelgard."

She met his eyes, frowning at him in concern. Whatever the source of that concern was, however, he knew she could be relied upon not to expose it in front of others. "Of course," she simply said, dismissing him.

Hubert gave her a brief, grateful bow before making for the hall's rear exit, out into the courtyard gardens. A few students milled about in the bright afternoon sunshine, but they paid Hubert little mind as he attempted to duck into the shadows.

"Hubert, wait!"

It was a rare occasion when Hubert cursed his height. Were he Lady Edelgard, he could simply slip between the hedges and vanish with dignity. Unfortunately, there would be no escaping the sound of Ferdinand von Aegir calling his name unless he wished to dive fully behind the shrubbery, a plan that he was not certain he should discard just yet. Ferdinand was jogging across the grass with a brightly triumphant expression that told Hubert that he would be better off picking leaves out of his hair than listening to whatever came next.

"Listen!" Ferdinand came to a halt before Hubert, and he had the nerve to hardly even sound winded by the effort that it had taken him to catch up. "There's more that I've learned about what to anticipate at the competition. Lorenz learned from Professor Manuela that participants may choose the style of dance they utilize, but the judges traditionally favor the waltz. Though this year one of the previous judges has been replaced by the knight Shamir, so her tastes may be a little more--"

"Ferdinand," Hubert interrupted what was clearly going to become a long lecture. "Is there a reason that you are here to tell me all of this?"

Ferdinand's smile persisted, brighter than the horrid midday sun overhead. "Why, I am helping you assess the competition, of course! We must utilize all the tools we have at our disposal if we are to triumph. Besides, a noble like me would never stand idly by without lending my expertise. Now, if you haven't yet chosen a style, I suggest..."

"Oh, I see now," Hubert interjected, his voice turning low and silky. "Yes, how foolish of me not to predict that your bruised ego would be in need of salve. You think that by meddling, you might be able to claim some of the Black Eagle's victory for yourself."

Few things brought Hubert satisfaction like the shade of red that crept into Ferdinand's face, lighting up his freckles like embers, whenever Hubert managed to find the limits of his temper. It made the redhead look less like a fiery sun god and more like a furious Mortifs plum. "Excuse me? I am merely trying to help you! It is my duty as your classmate to lend you my support."

Hubert snorted. "How very altruistic. Offering your services to me? That is positively noble of you." Where before Hubert was hoping to flee from the sight of Ferdinand, now he closed the gap between them. As though the grassy field were a ballroom, and the sounds of chatter drifting out of the dining hall overlaid with an orchestra. If he wished, he could have taken Ferdinand by the waist and led him in a waltz to that unheard music.

Ferdinand watched him in confusion, hesitating between his anger and this odd reversal on Hubert's part.

"Careful," Hubert said lowly. "If I am indeed the victor, I may be forced to dance in your vicinity."

"Why, I believe that is the point!" Ferdinand replied, his voice beginning to bolster once again. "You should be proud of your victory, and we as a class will share in your triumph."

"Is that so? You, Ferdinand von Aegir, would be seen dancing with one such as myself?"

Somehow, the redhead's smile did not waver. "Of course! Any would be honoured to join you in a dance, Hubert."

"Ah, I see." Hubert smiled as he moved in for the kill, tilting his head ever so slightly to whisper into Ferdinand's ear. "And now I know what lies you would stoop to, Ferdinand. We both know you would not endure being seen with a skittering cockroach such as myself."

And there, Ferdinand's face once again changed color before Hubert's eyes. Rather than the dark red flush of anger, the color instead rushed from his face, leaving him pale and stammering. "I… I would never…"

"Never say such things?" Hubert chuckled. "How amusing. The prime minister's son needs to work on his delivery, I think. The lie seems to be sticking in your throat." With a final smirk, Hubert left him there in the sunny courtyard, triumphant that he had finally stunned Ferdinand into silence.

It was not until he was nearly across the monastery grounds that Hubert finally realized that he had one other source of motivation to succeed at this contest. Something other than wanting to fulfil his duty to Lady Edelgard and to his house, other than the need to become whatever was necessary for their success. He wanted to prove that arrogant noble wrong. He wanted Ferdinand von Aegir to witness his victory on that stage.

#hubert von vestra #black eagles #fanfic #dancer hubert #dance of the black heron

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chillassimagines · 4 years

Text

New Experiences (CNCO Smut Preference)

(REQUESTED)

[ calling the boys d a d d y and s q u i r t i n g for the first time ]

JOEL:

“Come here!” You jumped up from the sofa and ran at Joel. Running into his arms made you feel a happiness you’ve only felt when he returns to you.

“I’ve missed you so much, Y/N.” He spoke softly in your ear while swaying your bodies back and forth.

“I’ve missed you too and I love you so much.” You pulled your head from on top of his chest to lean up and kiss him.

“And I love you...but don’t think I forgot about that photo you sent.” He gingerly grabbed your chin in his hand to maintain eye contact with you. Before he got on his flight to come home, you sent a very racy photo his way. Joel recalled being slightly rude to the Uber driver about hurrying up, which he hated that he did it, but he needed you.

“It was a little motivation to come home to me...as soon as possible.” You gave him a huge grin as you laughed mischievously.

“Well, I’m here, Mami.” He leaned down to press kisses onto your neck.

“And I’m ready, Daddy.” You bit your lip, praying he would react well. You wanted to try it when he returned, hoping the photo would smooth it over well. You heard a sharp inhale of breath right next to your ear.

“Well, after that, I don’t think you really are ready.”

“Fuck, Joel, please! Let me cum!” You begged him as he thrust his fingers inside of you once more, hitting you right where you needed it.

“Who?”

“Daddy, please, let me cum. I’ll do anything.” You whimpered as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. At that, he pulled his thick digits away from you.

“Anything?” Joel asked, before suckling at his soaked fingers. You moaned softly while watching him and nodded.

“Yes, daddy.” He reached down and grabbed your wrists to move them above your head.

“Don’t move your hands and I’ll let you cum, okay?” You nodded quickly in agreement, making him chuckle softly. His lips lowered to your naked abdomen, slowly kissing down to where you were throbbing and aching for a release.

“Please hurry.” You cried softly, feeling his cold cross necklace slide against your slit.

“I will, baby.” He pressed a wet kiss right against your slit before opening his mouth to delve his tongue in between your folds. His torture was slow and deliberate, making your hips buck up. Joel seemed to enjoy it as he grabbed the undersides of your thighs to press his face further into your heat. His tongue began its fast pace and there was no going back.

“That’s it, fuck!” You grabbed fistfuls of your own hair, wishing it was his, as your hips wildly followed their own accord in humping Joel’s face. He hummed loudly as he suckled on your clit. “Ah! I’m cumming, yes, daddy!” You damn near screeched as your high hit you like a truck. You felt an odd sensation in between your thighs, but the orgasm was too strong for you to focus on it. You arched your back up so high you thought you’d break it.

You suddenly felt Joel’s hands grab your breasts, making your attention switch to the man between your thighs. His curls hid his actions, but he appeared to be enamored with licking away every last drop of you. The hypersensitivity made your legs shake around his head at every movement.

“Joel, I can’t, you have to-fuck!” You gasped and your toes curled up so hard as he kitten licked your clit while looking up at you. You reached a hand down into his mess of curls and tugged. He never ceased his stare down as you threw your head back.

“Mami...you just squirted all over my face.” Joel spoke in a happy teasing tone. He kissed up in between your breasts to soon hover over you and look at you with a smile.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever experienced.”

ERICK:

“She is uh, my best friend, my “partner in crime”, y-I mean and, I can’t wait for you all to see her in the video.” Erick spoke at his laptop. You smiled at him in the corner of the living room. You had situated yourself onto a bean bag while Erick did his online interview during quarantine. You were beyond thrilled that the music video had been filmed before all this mess and that their second single to the new album would be released on time.

He glanced at you momentarily and you gave him two thumbs up with a smile. He returned the smile before looking back at his computer. Erick never thought he’d fall in love with someone whose first language was English and they had minimal experience with Spanish. However, you two make it work. Granted, his English skills are superior to your Spanish, and he’s only getting better with latin music inter grating into the United States charts. He does more English interviews and you’re always there to support and help him.

“Thank you! ¡Adiós!” Erick waved at his screen for a few seconds before completely shutting it. He sighed and looked over at you. You grinned and made your way over to him. You stood between his legs and ran your fingers through his hair.

“You did so well, bebé.” Erick’s hands made their way to your behind so he could pull you onto his lap.

“Gracias mi amorcito.” Your lips met, but Erick took it to a passionate level. “Te quiero.” He whispered against your lips and you smiled, knowing you had felt him harden underneath you.

“Really? I can’t tell.” You teased, brushing your nose against his.

“I can show you then.” He squeezed your ass and brought you to grind against his hard on. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, what do you want, Papi?” You brought one hand down to slide right underneath the waistband of his boxers. He grunted lowly.

“You.” He commanded, making you waste no time in undoing his pants and sliding them down his thighs. “Alto.” He demanded as you reached down to remove your light blue dress. You raised a brow.

“You wanna fuck me with my dress on, Papi?” You teased. He nodded and gripped the back of your neck to kiss you once more. You peeled back his boxers enough so he was free. Your underwear was non existent today, which Erick noticed after you lifted up your dress.

“Ándale, amor.” He ordered, bringing his hands down to your ass again. It was his favorite place for his hands to be. You slowly lowered yourself onto his length with a sweet sigh.

“So big, Papi.” You moaned right against his ear and bit down lightly on his neck. He grunted again before thrusting up into you, prompting you to move. You gripped the back of his head as you bounced up and down on top of him. His hands urged your fast pace on your ass.

“C’mon amor, puedes ir más rápido.” He reached under your dress and slapped your bare ass. You gasped in shock as it had pleasured you and made you even more excited.

“I’m close!” You whimpered reaching up with one hand to lower the neckline of your dress. No bra either. Erick was quick to wrap his lips around your nipple as you continued riding him like there was no tomorrow. “I’m gonna cum, Papi.”

“Not. Yet.” Your eyes widened. Erick immediately slowed your pace down with his grip on your backside. It was more of a heavy grind now.

“¿Por qué?” You whined. One hand of his came down in between your bodies and his thumb pressed right against your clit.

“Cause I said.” He challenged you with his eyes, but you wouldn’t dare. His lips returned to your nipple and softly licked it while resting his head on your other breast. His thumb however, sped up to an unforgiving pace.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned breathily. You had a deadly grip on the back of his neck as you fought your urge to cum. You had unconsciously begun to bounce up and down again, making Erick moan deeply against your breast, sending it straight to your core. “Please Papi, no más.” You pleaded, ready to cum all over him.

“No.” He simply stated. You whined and threw your head back, as he pinched your clit.

“Holy shit.” You gasped, loving the feeling of it. He smirked and scooted to the side before laying you down on the sofa. Your eyes widened as much as they could through your sex haze as he took your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. He thrust into you harshly and never let up after that. “Papi!” You cried which made him grab your hands and intertwine them against the arm of the sofa.

“You wanna cum, huh?” He asked. You nodded quickly. He smirked and let go of one hand, bringing his thumb back down to your clit. “Cum then, bebé.” You cried as he showed no mercy in his thrusts or his finger movements. You took your free hand to grip his neck and press his mouth to yours while you felt liquid gushing out of you. Erick pulled his swollen mouth back from yours quickly to look down in between you two. He groaned as he felt himself release inside of you, but he was so distracted by the fact that everything was glistening.

“Papi, you know what that is?” You asked breathlessly. He shook his head.

“It’s called squirting.”

CHRIS:

“Guess what day it is?” Chris asked in a sing song voice while wrapping his hands around your waist.

“I know what day it is, Christopher.” You laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“The day we make my niño.” He grinned happily and you shook your head.

“What are you gonna do if it’s a niña?” You asked teasingly. He bounced his head side to side in faux thought, then shrugged.

“Tendré dos princesas.” You smiled with him and pressed a long kiss to his lips.

“You’ll be a daddy.” He raised a brow.

“I definitely already am.” You dropped your jaw.

“¿Cariño, tu piensas que no se? I saw your messages with Naomi.” You and your best friend, Naomi, may have talked about kinks you wanted to try on a few different occasions. None you’d ever been brave enough to bring up to Chris. You specifically remembered ‘Daddy’ being a frequent topic, because that’s the aura you received from Chris 9/10 times.

He was firm with what he wanted in the bedroom, but his aftercare, and when he wants to pleasure you? That’s a real daddy right there. His aftercare would always be inticing to you, because he’d find away to keep the sexual tension going, and sometimes that ended in another orgasm. When I say sometimes, I mean. Every. Single. Time. He loved to deny you orgasms, or give you so many you were jello.

“Chris, I-”

“No cariño, dime.” You gaped at him in awe for a minute. He wanted to go down this road and he was driving quite well. He definitely brought the bedroom voice out.

“Daddy...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Didn’t know how you’d react.” You cupped his face in your hands, while he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You will be sorry.” He grabbed your hand from his face and used it to pin your body against the wall. His free hand unzipped your leggings so he could press his fingers against you through your panties.

“Do something...please, daddy.” He hummed and began rubbing soft slow circles onto your bud. You whimpered. “Más, por favor, Papi.”

“Me gustarlo.” He released your hand so his other could assist in pulling down your pants and panties. Chris got down on his knees and began kissing your thighs. “Bebé...eso es emoncionado.” He gripped the skin of your thighs in various places hard enough to create multiple hickeys.

“More?” You whispered out, hoping he would give you what you desired. He shrugged.

“I don’t know who you’re talking to.” He ran his pointer finger down your slit once. You shivered from his touch and whined.

“Daddy, I need more.”

“Good girl.” His lips wrapped around your clit, making juicy and wet noises he produced with his mouth. You fucking loved it.

“Oh my god, yes. Oh god, I love you. Yes, right there, right there!” You cried out and gripped his hair with a deadly force. His eyes were closed, but it made it feel so much more passionate. He didn’t need his vision to know how to make you feel.

“You want more?” He paused and asked, taking a breather.

“Please daddy.” He placed his thumbs on both your folds to spread them apart. His tongue slid into the middle and began flicking your clit back and forth. “I’m cumming, right here, right now!” You cried as you released. You took a deep breath, but Chris was already on his feet, grabbing your hand, and leading you back into your bedroom for the rest of the night.

“No listos, cariño.” He removed his top and you felt the need to do the same. He also removed his pants and boxers in one go. You loved to be naked in front of each other, it fueled the sexual desire for you both.

“Cómo?” You gestured to the bed. Chris took both of your hands in his.

“On your back. Legs wide for me, mamita.” Chris would call you every name in the book to get you worked up. He turned you around so your back faced the bed. You sat down on it and Christopher let go of your hands as you situated yourself. His eyes never strayed from your body. “We’re making a baby tonight.” He spoke confidently and crawled on top of you.

“Please daddy.” You felt ready for another round with the way his eyes ate you up.

“You want me?” He asked, trailing his fingers down your thigh and hooked his hand underneath it.

“Yes, so bad. I need you inside of me...cumming inside of me.” You brought a hand up to cup his face while his other hand followed his previous actions. You felt his member press right up against you.

“Mmm, I guess that can be arranged.” He slowly pushed himself all the way inside of you, making you both let out long simultaneous groans of pleasure. He began rocking back and forth inside of you, using your legs for more leverage for deep thrusts.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered out, digging your nails into his chest. He hissed through his teeth.

“Not so hard, mami.” He spoke firmly. You immediately let up, not wanting a prolonged orgasm.

“You just, you fuck me so well, Daddy. It feels, so good!” You cried at the end as he hit your favorite spot.

“Mmm, mami, right there, huh?” He grunted as he purposefully hit it again, making you beg for more.

“Yes! Faster, Daddy, please!” Chris did not disappoint. The sound of skin slapping together at a harsh pace soon followed your request. He hit it. Every. Time.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Y/N.” He panted out to you. You nodded and brought his face down to yours with both of your hands.

“C’mon, Daddy. Baby, cum.” You cooed to him, nearly closing your eyes at the intense pleasure. With two more harsh smacks of his skin against your own, he stilled deep inside of you.

“Shit.” He whispered, pressing his wet forehead against yours as you felt the pressure of his cum spread inside of you. You felt Chris lift your legs while staying inside you. You smiled, knowing he’s read one or two things about conception. “Te amo.” He whispered to you.

“Te amo, Chris.” You leaned up slightly to press your lips to his softly. The delicate kiss turned naughty when Chris’ lips suckled on your bottom lip. You moaned, prompting Chris to slowly thrust inside of you.

“I need more, mami.” He whispered against your lips. You smiled once more, knowing Chris’ stamina was not a short one.

“Take it, Daddy.” You nipped at his upper lip teasingly. He grunted in response to you and lifted your legs even higher to rest on his shoulders. You crossed them behind his neck, making sure he couldn’t lean back up away from you.

“I will.” His hands dipped under your back and made his hands grip your shoulders. He began rocking your bodies back and forth together. The temperature increased due to your close proximity and it made it so much more intimate. Sadly, you felt your orgasm coming so soon.

“I’m gonna cum, Chris.” One of his hands abandoned your shoulder and reached down between your hot bodies. “Fuuuck.” You sighed, your eyes rolling into your head while his thumb attacked your clit mercilessly.

“Cum for me, mamita.” His lips latched onto your neck, no doubt creating a bruise. You gasped, feeling like you couldn’t breathe as you began your release. You scratched at his back, making him thrust quickly into you. You kept trying to find air to inhale, but it felt like there wasn’t any. “Mami!” He hissed, but you ignored him and everything, not being able to open your eyes from their current state.

You felt him pull out of you, making your release your nails from his skin, and your legs falling limp on the bed. You finally felt yourself being able to control your eyes and opened them. Chris was staring in between your legs and at his hand.

“Chris?” You called for him, still trying to recover from an unforgettable orgasm.

“Y/N, you came, like everywhere.” You looked down between your legs and observed his glistening hand.

“Oops?” He chuckled and licked his hand.

“I’ll run the bath for us, huh?” You nodded with a lazy smile, unconsciously resting your hand on your stomach.

ZABDIEL:

“¿Hey, tú quieres comida, bebé?” You asked Zabdiel while he was laid on the sofa in his boxers and a tank top, watching a telenovela.

“¿Cómo qué?” He looked up at you, abandoning his eyes from the screen. You always appreciated that about Zabdiel. If he was talking to you, 99% of the time he’d dedicate his attention to you.

“No sé.” You laughed and he joined you. “Pero, puedo hacer algo.” He hummed and reached out his hand for you to take. You placed your hand in his and he led you around to the front of the couch. He pulled you on top of him and you chuckled in confusion at his odd actions.

“No sabemos que queremos, amor.” You hummed, mocking him, and leaned your head down on his chest.

“We can just cuddle then till we decide.” You began adjusting yourself till Zabdiel’s hands shot down to grip your waist.

“Alto, bebé.” Your eyes widened when you realized Zabdiel was growing hard under you.

“Oh shit, my-“

“We can do something besides cuddle, amor.” His hand ran over your hair softly. You looked up at him to find a little grin on his face.

“Zab, I’m hungry.” You whined.

“So am I.” He winked and stuck his tongue out. If your eyes could get bigger, they would have.

“¿Tú quieres...?” You trailed off, unsure. One of his hands lowered to your ass and gave it a little pinch, making you jump.

“Mucho.” Zabdiel had never, ever eaten you out. It was just something that hadn’t been prompted yet in the bedroom. “Pero...aquí, mi amor.” On the couch?!

“We can go to the bedroom-"

“No quiero. Ahora, bebé.” He gestured to you, and you knew he meant business. You began unbuttoning your jeans and stood up to be able to pull them down. Zabdiel didn’t move an inch which made you very confused.

“Zab, I need to lay back.” You spoke, slightly timid. You were nervous, truth be told. He shook his head and pointed to his lips.

“Right here.” He wanted you to sit on his face?!

“O-Oh.” You slowly peeled off your panties to join your jeans. You stepped closer to the couch and Zabdiel shook his head.

“Top. Off.” He ordered. You bit your lip and removed your top, revealing your bare breasts. “Hmm, no bra?” You felt very cheeky in that very moment.

“¿Te gusta, Papi?” You winked playfully, expecting Zabdiel to laugh. However, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Get up here, Y/N.” You nearly passed out at his dominance. Your shaky leg hooked over past his shoulder on the fairly wide couch, allowing your other knee to rest on the opposite side.

“Say it again, amor.” His hands came down to your hips and rubbed soft circles into your skin.

“You want me to say...Papi?” You questioned. He nodded and pulled you up to his lips. He looked up at you expectantly. “Papi, please.” You spoke softly, bring your hand down to run your hand through his blonde hair.

“Así, amor.” You watched his tongue exit his mouth and connect with your heat. You inhaled quickly at the sensation. Your hand instinctively gripped at his hair as he continued exploring you. It’s one thing to do it with his fingers or even just his member, but it’s another when he uses his tongue and his eyes up close and personal.

“Papi, más por favor.” You whimpered, tilting your head up towards the ceiling. One of Zabdiel’s hands landed with a harsh smack on your ass, making you jump.

“Look down here, mi amor.” You followed his order and maintained eye contact with him. It made the ordeal so much more intense and dare you say, naughty. His lips latched onto your sensitive nub and proceeding to nibble softly with his lips, making you moan like a porn star.

“Papi, I’m close! Fuck, just like that, Papi. Yes!” Your hips began gyrating against his face and he seemed to bask in it. His moans caused vibrations to go right towards your pending orgasm. His dark eyes never left yours and when you found yourself wiggling your head around his never faltered.

“Don’t cum.” Your jaw dropped in simultaneous pleasure and shock.

“Papi, please, I-” Zabdiel plunged his wet tongue into your even wetter hole. You cried out as he thrust his tongue quickly. Your hands released his hair and gripped the arm of the sofa. “Zabdiel, I’m gonna-” And just like that you found yourself laying on your back.

“What did you just say?” Zabdiel asked in a dark tone. Your eyes were wide but also the sensations he left on your core were still going, so you weren’t all there.

“I was, I was going to cum.” You mumbled, making him reach up to your nipples.

“Papi, doesn’t want you to cum yet.” He pinched both of your nipples making you gasp.

“Okay, okay! I won’t till you say!” He leaned down to softly suckle at each of your nipples, relieving the pain.

“Niña buena.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips to which you responded eagerly. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking.

“Papi.” You whined, making him chuckle.

“¿Tú quieres más?” He leaned his forehead on yours, but not yet allowing your lips to meet.

“Si, Papi. Por favor.” You leaned up and a Zabdiel met you halfway. His kisses were to die for and they made you melt like dulces carmellos. You moaned into the kiss as Zabdiel began grinding his hips against your bare core. He of course was covered by his boxers, but his bulge made it damn near impossible to tell.

“You wanna cum, amor?” He asked before bringing his kisses to your neck. You allowed your hands to wrap around his back and your legs followed suit.

“Yes, faster Papi.” You gasped as he immediately obliged, pressing right against your clit everytime he moved.

“Dámelo amor.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his words prompted your orgasm.

“Fuck!” You cried as the orgasm felt so much more intense than ever before. Zabdiel pulled back from your neck and rose up, still sat on his knees to stare at his soaked boxers. He peeled them down his thick thighs to release his member.

“I don’t know what you just did, amor, but I’m about to cum inside of you.” With that he slid right into you.

RICHARD: (the moment you’ve all been waiting for and if you weren’t waiting for the best one idk why you thought daddy richard wasn’t EVERYTHING)

“It looks good, mami.” Richard ran his thumb over the skin next to your latest tattoo. Richard had been away during the healing process of your latest body art, so he was excited to get a real life close up of it. It was placed from mid thigh to your lower stomach. It was red line work of a dragon

“Gracias.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. Richard was lying down at the end of the bed while he was observing. His hand was holding up your shorts higher so he could examine the tattoo.

“No panties bebé?” He casually didn’t look at you and kept his focus on the body art. Your eyes widened slightly, totally forgetting you were ready for bed when Richard came home early to surprise you.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” You attempted to say just as casually.

“So if you did you would have put panties on?” His thumb trailed up your dragon in swirls and lines of the design.

“Uh, no, I mean, I don’t know. I would have kept my day clothes on, I just got dressed in this to sleep. It gets hot.” You rambled. You hated when you were awkward.

“You get hot down here, mami?” He looked up at you as his hand grasped at your inner thigh.

“Richard!” You whisper shouted. You had no reason to whisper, you just felt caught off guard. You should have expected him to be horny coming home, just not so witty about it.

“Say Daddy, mami.” His thumb rubbed your lower lips and you gasped quietly at his demand.

“You want me to call you Daddy...or Papi?” You bit your lip softly, looking up at him as he moved to hover over you.

“Daddy, bebé. If you call me Papi I won’t be able to stop.” He spoke before pressing his lips hastily to yours. You moaned against his lips as he submerged his thumb in between your lower lips to rub on your clit.

“Daddy, don’t stop.” Your jaw fell open as his thumb went faster. His lips moved down to assault your neck with kisses and purple splotches. His opposite hand went to the back of your head and pulled down on your hair. “I have a surprise.” You moaned, feeling your orgasm near you.

“What, mami?” He asked before nipping at your jugular.

“I’m on birth control now.” Richard stopped everything. He had begged and begged for a year for you to get on birth control. He was okay with waiting, but he still teased you about it. One time you let him do it without and it felt heavenly, thank god his pull out game was good. You swore that unless you went on birth control, which you were in no rush to do, that it couldn’t happen again. Sometimes while having sex he’d whisper to you,

“Remember how good it felt to have just me, inside of you mami?”

and you’d almost cave. But never since that day has he gone raw inside of you.

“Don’t lie to get your way, princesa.” He whispered lowly.

“I’m not, I promise.” Your hands reached to caress his face and tilt his head up so you could see his face. His lips were swollen and his nose was slightly blushed. He was an absolute passionate latin lover right out of the books and it showed.

“The best welcome home gift ever.” He said as he pulled your shorts off of your body. You laughed a little at his reaction and pulled his shirt off.

“Get naked, Daddy.” You teased him and proceeded to pull your tank top off. You were completely bare underneath everything and that seemed to motivate Richard to move faster.

“Did I ever mention how much I love you?” Richard spoke lowly, running his hands along your body.

“Eh. Maybe once or twice.” You smiled at him and he smiled back before giving you a kiss. “And I love you.”

“Wanna turn around for me, princesa?” Richard asked, running his nose along your navel. You turned over onto all fours and looked back at your man.

“I need you.” He hummed got adjusted on his knees.

“Louder, mami.” His hands squeezed around your thighs.

“I need you.” You spoke a bit louder. It didn’t seem to satisfy Richard though.

“You can do better.” You took an inhale of breath.

“I need you, Daddy, please cum inside me!” You cried out as he wasted no time in pistoning himself inside you. “Fuuuck.” You whined as a finger went to your clit while his hand remained gripping your thigh for leverage.

“You miss this like me, mami? This feeling of me fucking you how you like it?” Your eyes rolled up as the dirty talk turned you on like no other.

“Yes, daddy. I missed your cock.” Richard prompted filthy words to exit your mouth every time you two had sex. He made you feel so sexually liberated and wanted you to let him know how to please you. He dominated you with the purpose of being your only outlet of sexual necessity.

“You miss feeling all of it? While you throw yourself back onto me? No more fucking condoms.” He grunted loudly over the sounds of your skin clapping. Your grip grew tighter on the sheets as your clit was throbbing and your core was fluttering around Richard. You knew he could feel you contracting around him repeatedly. The noises exiting his mouth made it clear for you.

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy. Please let me cum.” You knees grew tired of helping you move back onto Richard, but he moved his hand from your thigh to your hair to pull back on it.

“Cum for me, mami. I want it all.” He kicked your thighs further apart with his own and rubbed at your clit with his palm making you scream in pleasure.

“Fuck! Papi!” You didn’t even comprehend that you allowed that to come out of your mouth, but when you said it Richard slammed his hips against yours agressively, making your ass seem like it was getting slapped repeatedly.

“Mami, fuck, look at that. You’ve made a mess now, bebé.” Richard moaned as his hand movements caused liquid to literally squirt out of you. Your vision went starry as your eyes most likely crossed so hard at this intense pleasure. You couldn’t even respond to him at this point. “Look at my messy girl, I love making you a mess, mami.” His hand gripped the front of your neck and moved his chest to cover your back.

“Papi...” You whimpered, feeling your entrance contract uncontrollably, triggering your sensitivity.

“Wait.” He demanded. His teeth grazed against your shoulder making you quiver. He moaned deeply in response. “Do it again, mami.” You felt a second orgasm assault your body and simultaneously felt the pressure of Richard’s cum coating your insides. “Shit.” He whispered harshly, squeezing a bit tightly around your neck.

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hwarangbangbang · 3 years

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jin zixuan » captivation

parts - 1 | 2

hello everyone! here is the second part, as requested by @impossibleme09 to captivation! this is a reader insert so if thats not quite your vibe, i understand~ but if it IS your vibe and you have read the first chapter, i hope you enjoy! and i thank all you kind readers for your patience!

title - captivation word count - 3,004 words paring - jin zixuan/fem!reader tags - THE ANGST (for the most part) IS OVER!! hopefully only lovely tings in this chapter, heartfelt emotions, mutual pining, affair, kinda happy ending

Four weeks.

Four long, lonely, dark, desperate weeks had passed since your sentencing by the Gusu Lan Sect, alongside the remainder of the court.

They had dragged you out, kicking and screaming at the verdict whilst they quite literally began to rip apart your only best friend. You could see the look on Zhao Gang's face, the look in his eyes.

At least now, you knew he would be at peace.

You however, were confined for the rest of your days to stare at four stone walls, and a barred window and doorway being the only access you could never have again to the outside world.

On the third day of the fifth week, which you had conveniently kept track of by using a corroded nail to carve the rustic tallies into the floor, you noticed something peculiar going on outside of your cell window. It was faint, given how quiet it always was down in the prison of the Lanling Jin Sect, but you heard it.

The small sound of rustling paper, following by said parchment falling down onto the floor of your cell. Your cell was partially underground, the window starting at the beginning of the ground and only extending up a few feet, so on occasion trash could come in through the slots in the bars, you didn't pay much mind to it.

However, this parchment seemed different. It was a letter.

With curious eyes, you walked over to it, picking up the letter that was sealed with a gold emblem to keep it shut. You knew that sigil anywhere, it was that of the Lanling Jin Sect. When you turned it over, you saw your name beautifully written on the front of it.

Why would a letter be addressed to you, coming from the very sect you were imprisoned at, be coming through your cell window? Couldn't whatever message may be, not be delivered by word of mouth from a guard?

Regardless, you opened up the letter, not caring for the golden wax infused sigil that was ripped in half as you pulled it apart and began to read.

Cultivator [ Y/L/N ], I do hope this letter finds you in good health -- though I do understand your predicament is less than desirable and for that I do apologize on behalf of the court and my sect.

I was present that day, the day of your sentencing, and while I do agree that your choices of alternate methods of cultivation were a bit of an extreme shock to us and to the cultivation world, I believe you do not deserve a life such as this.

You were in mourning for your companion, and it is with my deepest apologies that you must go through it again. I wish for his soul to be carried to the highest of places, awaiting yours in the future.

I would like to help you, should you so want that. You do not deserve to spend the rest of your life trapped as an animal for one mistake. I will leave you this letter, and return just before daybreak for your answer.

Please think over my offer well, I hope to see you in the morning.

Someone... wanted to help you? Someone saw through your scrutiny you were served by the Sect Leaders... the truth? That you weren't a threat, or had any ill will to harm anyone? There had to be a catch, there had to be something -- who would just willingly help you? Definitely not out of just blind trust.

Your stomach turned throughout the night, not even getting so much as a wink of sleep as your eyes were trained on the window, your evening sludge of dinner forgotten on the floor. As the evening darkness turned to a dark magenta and clementine hue, the morning sun shining through the small window, you raised up to your own two feet to pad toward the window.

You raised up on your tip toes, looking out of the barred hole as you curled your fingers around the cold metal and waited. You waited for what had felt like forever, your eyes heavy from the lack of sleep, and just when you felt like giving up on whatever hope had been brewing in your head over the night, you saw a pair of black hanfu boots, the lining instead of white cotton, was a shimmery silk laced gold.

The robe to match could be mistaken for nothing else than a member of the Lanling Jin Sect and it swayed elegantly even from what you could see. The owner crouched down, and you nearly fainted when you saw who's face it belonged to.

"Y-Young Lord Jin?" You gasped, slipping off of your tip toes as you braced yourself against the stone walls of your prison cell. You must have gone truly mad- did your eyes really deceive you?

A small, barely present smile raised along the corners of his mouth, and you had to blink yourself out of your trance to come to terms with the fact that it truly was him. “I hope I have not troubled you due to my early risings, Cultivator (Y/L/N), I needed to arrive during the changing shifts of the dungeon guards.” He apologized, looking left and right before sitting down on his knees, bracing himself on the bars as he peered down at you.

There was an awkward and tense silence between the two of you -- you watching him, a rosy flush coloring his cheeks as he tried his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“So... did you sleep well?”

“What exactly is it you want from me, Young Lord Jin?”

Time. It was something you had plenty of, but in this current moment the anxiety was eating at you -- the apprehension of not knowing -- and your patience was wearing thin as he tried to skirt around the issue at hand.

Jin Zixuan cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I want nothing of you. I want to help you.” He answered, and alas, there was no tell-tale signs of dishonesty anywhere on him. His fingers couldn’t cross behind his back, as they were curled around the cold metal bars. His eyes didn’t shift side to side, as they were trained on you.

So either Jin Zixuan was a really good liar, or he was truthfully only trying to help.

Which prompted you to the question that had been at the forefront of your mind since the moment you received his letter. “Why?”

His brow furrowed, “because, I believe... you do not deserve to be here. Not trapped in here for the rest of your life as a common criminal-” he began, though you cut him off quickly. “How do you know I’m not? How do you know you can trust me not to abuse your position to get what I want? How do you know I will not, upon my freedom, raise another ghost puppet to do my bidding?!”

“Because of your eyes.”

Well that... truly stunned you. You weren’t sure how to counter that, but you didn’t need to, because he continued on in explanation.

“Your eyes show more emotion than you want. I was raised in a family where all I could do was sit and observe. I learned many things during my years, but one was how to spot someone evil.” He said tersely.

“An evil person, someone truly evil, is someone who could not care less of who gets caught in the crossfire of their wrongdoings. They enjoy the fear they inflict, the pain, the agony... But you,” he pointed towards you with an accusatory finger, though didn’t hold accusatory words, “you do not. Your eyes still have that sparkle of innocence.” He finished, but then added, “it’s quite... captivating, if I do say so myself.”

“Even if what you are saying is true-” you interjected, “how do you expect me to escape this prison? There is only one way in, and only one way out -- and it is through that door right there-” you pointed to the doorway cut out of stone, jailed by more bars.

Jin Zixuan smiled, “I’ve lived here my whole life. I know more ins and outs of this palace than you could imagine.” He pulled something from his outer robe as he stood, tossing down another letter into your hands as he looked around. “The guards have switched -- I will leave you more letters with my plans. Keep them hidden, keep them safe.”

And then he was gone.

Days bled into nights, which morphed into the longest few months you had ever experienced. Having nothing to look at but your prison walls, the food becoming more and more inedible as the time went on; if it weren’t for your lingering hope of escape and your track keeping of each day, you were sure you would have gone mad.

But Jin Zixuan kept to his word. Visiting you every single day at sunrise on the dot, sometimes to simply just sit and talk, or to leave you more letters due to his rush to get done his princely deeds of the day. But in all the days you were stuck there, he had become the highlight of your day.

His smile, while regal and reserved, was always genuine. His voice would tell you stories of what was going on in the real world, stories you’d recall as you drifted to sleep each night. He was always helpful, never condescending... and it finally began to dawn on you that you might actually feel something for the Young Prince of Lanling Jin Sect.

This took a while for you to come to terms with. What if it had been just in your head? To be quite fair, he was the only man you had really had any contact with in... god knows how long. What if it was only your imagination that was making you picture the longing in his stares? Making you picture the somewhat suggestive sentences that hinted at wanting something more than just helping you?

But he was engaged... He had told you this much himself. To a woman who didn’t deserve how dismissive he had been to her as of late. That she was kind and sweet and caring, and deserved a better man to call a husband. It was hard for you to hide your dislike for the matter, to hide your jealousy, even as he expressed that it was only for show to keep the big sect families in harmony.

It was all a lot to process, and at the end of the day you at least knew to be true that you did in fact share some semblance of feelings for Jin Zixuan.

Months passed before the day had come.

The day of your escape.

The change of guards would take longer due to the need for increased protection following the wedding ceremony of the Young Lord Jin Zixuan and his bride to be, Young Lady Jiang. You had only seen her a few times in passing, and only had heard seldom things about her -- but you knew one thing for sure: she definitely was lucky to be able to spend the rest of her life by his side. Something at this point you could only wish for.

A knock sounded from the barred door of your cell, and you lifted your head from the ground where you lay to see a familiar face. Jin Zixuan. He was dressed very well, in red robes as was custom for wedding ceremonies, and it honestly looked quite breathtaking on him.

The robe, which was normally a mix of golds and cream colored fabric, was a vibrant red that made his skin glow that much more than normal, it suited his tone well, and his hair was done up with the most royal braids you had ever seen. He looked amazing, and this was most likely the last image you would ever have of him.

At least it was a charming memory to have.

“Are you ready? We have little time, I’m awaiting for the word to begin the entry to the palace for the ceremony. I figure whilst everyone is busying themselves in the wedding hall... this would be the best time.” Jin Zixuan spoke, and you felt a heavy feeling in your heart. But nonetheless, you nodded. Young Lord Jin was not yours to have, he was already spoken for... but yet you still could see a pain behind his deep brown irises.

Jin Zixuan produced a small key from inside his sleeve, and for the first time since your imprisonment, you saw that cell door open and heard it creak. As you stepped outside, into the prison hall, you saw not a single guard was in sight. With a quick look you both shared together, he took your hand and began to lead you down the hall.

You were thankful for his aid, because even if you had managed to conspire this plan yourself, you would have gotten lost easily in the maze of halls.

After what had seemed like forever, you were stopped by his arm curling around your form to jerk you back between two pillars against a stone wall. His hand came clasped over your mouth to silence any yelps that betrayed you from the surprise, and just as you were about to ask him why he had stopped you, when you heard it.

Guards. The clink of their swords. The sound of them talking. You heard at least two to your left, and even more to your right. You looked up at Jin Zixuan with a look of fear -- not for you, but for him. What would happen to him if he was caught helping a fugitive? A criminal?

He didn’t seem to share that same look of fear though, because he reached above him to pull a small pin from what looked like an embedding in the wall, and just like that, the wall behind you disappeared, only to be realigned in place soundlessly.

It had taken you nearly off your feet, if it hadn’t been for the Young Prince’s grip on your waist holding you steady. As darkness encased the both of you, the only light allotted a few torches along the tunnel that lay before you, you felt him move before a rustling of fabric sounded, a dark blue robe being held out to you.

“The less suspicious you seem when you get to the outside world, the better.” He explained, and after the robe was passed to your hands he turned around to politely allow you to change.

You quickly made work of your outer robe, ignoring the blush coloring your cheeks that you were thankful was hardly noticeable in the lighting, slipping on the disguise and making sure it was secure before clearing your throat. “I am finished, Young Lord Jin.” You said solemnly, your head downcast as he turned back around.

He nervously shuffled in place, holding a hand out to you. “Shall we?” He ushered, and you took it gingerly, feeling his warm, big hand, engulf your smaller, colder one as the two of you began to sprint down the tunnel.

You were beginning to run out of breath, panting as you tried your best to keep up with him; but the fact of the matter was you had been confined to a dungeon prison cell for nearly a year in preparation for your escape, you weren’t in the best shape to run this way.

But it wasn’t endless, because at the end of the tunnel was a wall. Jin Zixuan reached up, grabbing onto a small string as he passed it to you.

“If you pull this string, it will remove the pin above your head. The wall will shift open, just enough for you to sneak past... If you continue down the tunnel, it will let you out just outside of the city.” He said, his face alight with the torches next to him. He seemed... nervous, but not because of the big risk he was taking by busting you out.

“I know our time is almost up... but may I please be frank with you if only for a moment, Cultivator (Y/N)?” Your eyes were hopeful as you looked up at him, “of course.”

“We have spent quite a lot of time together over the months, and while I know it is very much frowned upon given our social statuses as well as my pre-arranged betrothal-”

“Young Lord Jin, please, do not hold back what it is you wish to say.” You cut him off, the anticipation nearly killing you.

He looked down at his hands clasped before him. “I... I have begun to grow a liking to you. An attachment I know is not socially acceptable. Once I become Ruler of the Lanling Jin Sect, your crimes would become nothing more than memory -- but that isn’t for a long, long time-“ He was rambling again, and you reached out a hand to steady his own.

You couldn’t quell the joy in your heart as you asked, “would you wait that long? Would you wait long enough til you were crowned leader to see me again?“ You inquired, and he blinked for a moment, before a big smile broke across his face. “I would.“

With all the courage you could muster, all things considered, you leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. They were soft and pillow-like, and he chased your own lips even as you pulled away, unable to hide your happiness and fondness as you pulled on the string.

“Then I suppose our worries of never seeing each other again are nothing to be thought of then, don’t you, Jin Zixuan?”

And just like that, you were running out to your freedom, chasing the future where you could walk in the sun with Jin Zixuan.

general masterlist

#jin zixuan #the untamed jin zixuan #the untamed #mdzs #mdzs reader insert

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