#idiot that my brother had to physically restrain me to stop me from doing it because its just too funny to me

[puppyeared]

How do you do fellow human?

if i answered this 2 weeks ago i would have said i want a quick and easy death <- currently on school break

#thanks for asking thoug!!!!! #some health problems came up right when i was finishing up assignments and i have to get screened for smth #otherwise doing ok now.. just sitting in my room drawing and staying in my lane like the hermit i was meant to be #im not fixating on anything rn so im just drawing my ocs.. sorry if its cluttering up ppls dash but i got fuck else to draw #although i did recently get undertale gifted to me by my brother bc it was on steam sale!! ive never.. actually played undertale #or watched a playthru for it so im going into it mostly blind.. i want to try for the pacifist route but apparently its kinda hard #im still willing to try although i havent really gotten that far in the game. so far ive just been terrorizing whimsum and laughing like an #idiot that my brother had to physically restrain me to stop me from doing it because its just too funny to me #ask #answered #yapping #doodles #puppysona

[inkskinned]

i. so 2 days ago, i think i almost got kidnapped.

ii. there's this line in mitski - okay, so i'm a stereotype but - she says i've been big and small. sometimes i think she means physically. and sometimes i think she means like how it feels small to be alone in a grocery store.

iii. i'm babysitting my brother's dog. my dog is much bigger than his; goblin's 70 pounds and comes up to my hip. but his dog (an australian shepherd) - she's tiny. like 30 pounds or something.

iv. i called my sister before i called the cops. it felt like a big move to call the cops. i didn't like doing it, either. i felt like, embarrassed this happened.

v. it was getting dark, right. and the rain had really started in earnest. and we were coming off a trail we'd seen a guy on, deep in the woods. this white unmarked panel van was just sitting there, at the trailhead, lights on, engine on. i had to squeeze past it to get to my car. i kept telling myself - this is fucking stupid to be freaked out by. it's just a guy. it's just a van. it's not a movie. move along.

vi. sometimes i think about those chain emails that used to go around. you know, the ones with "survival tips for women" in them. in the age of the internet, where did all of those go? where is the masterlist of holding your keys in your fist? did anyone print that up and put it on their wall. do they sleep beside it.

vii. the van started to move while i put the dogs in the car. very slowly, he turned and backed up so he was blocking me in. i felt my heart racing. the rain was in my eyes. he opened his front door, just stuck a foot out. my brother's dog immediately freaked out. i had to physically restrain her. he closed his door. i got into the car with the dog, through the passenger side. i locked everything. the van stayed behind me for a little bit. when he finally left, i found him parked at the edge of the road. he waited for me to turn, and then followed me for a few intersections.

iix. i just couldn't stop thinking - this isn't real. this isn't something that happens. you're making this a bigger issue than it needs to be. this is the way it would play out if you were on tv. i didn't want to be that person, you know? jumping at shadows. freaked out about nothing. you know, a hysterical woman.

ix. my friends and i joke over dinner that i would be the first to die in a horror movie. then we go around and assign death warrants - who dies first, who is the serial killer. there are times in my life i have been jokingly folded to fit into the trunk of a car. every time someone picks me up, even in a friendly way, i have the sudden, horrible thought: oh. i couldn't really stop this from happening if things got too far. that feels small and big all-at-once. like breathing in glass particles.

x. i didn't get the license plate. the cops were not helpful. i didn't really expect them to be, but i didn't want anyone else to get hurt, just-in-case something bad would have happened. not that i get to assume something bad would have happened. it feels small and stupid. i feel like an idiot. what if calling the cops causes more hurt than good? maybe calling them was foolish. the first thing i said when they picked up was - uh, so i don't really know if this is a big deal or not but i think something weird just happened.

xi. in the last 48 hours i have gone to work and done my laundry and walked the dogs some more. i didn't even bring it up with my therapist. on the phone with the police officer, she said - you're actually being very calm about this. it is just something that can happen, i guess. i think i'm probably not the only person walking around with something that should-be-big rattling around inside of them. since nothing did happen, i don't really get to be upset. bad things have happened to me. i am statistically speaking extremely lucky.

xii. sometimes i think about all the diary pages that exist. and all the places where people hide the things that are too horrible to look at, even if it's a memory. it feels big-and-small to know that my diary knows the worst of me. it feels big to know someone else probably has the same diary. like - ha! same trauma. how endearing. i told my sister - well this is just part of being femme presenting isn't it.

xiii. on wednesday i saw a bunch of warblers and last night i had a dream about a girl with red hair. that felt big. that felt poetic. it's thursday today. i almost got kidnapped on a tuesday. in between the rest of me, i have no idea where to fit that moment.

poem where everything is true unless it makes you uncomfortable and then of course it's all made up for attention // r.i.d

#whatever this is #poetry #prose #warm up

[cuubism]

Set Theory

Complex Maths part 3

due to the formatting this is probably much easier to read on ao3

------

Endless Torment, Horror, And Nightmares – the family group chat

Wednesday, 2:30am

thy heart’s Desire 💅

do mine ears deceive me or is the grapevine report true does emo boy have *gasp* a new plaything? 😳

Dream-ing of being less of a Bitch

Do not speak of Hob. Desire. Have you changed my name again? DESIRE.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

it was Despair, actually. do you find it *inaccurate*? I don’t maybe i’ll ask HOB what he thinks 😜

Dream-ing of being less of a Bitch

Do. Not. I will end you.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

brother dear this is not making me feel less inclined

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

wait. Hob Gadling?

thy heart’s Desire 💅

OHOHOHOHOOOOOO

Dream-ing of being less of a Bitch

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

he teaches data science sections. in the most disgustingly upbeat manner ever that guy has the Will To Live of fifteen puppies combined I’m surprised he even likes you Dream

SupercalifragilisticexpialidELIRIUM 🤪🤪🤪🤪

hey :( meany

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

if it helps I sympathize more with Dream Hob should try experimenting with depression or possibly substance abuse like the rest of us maybe that’ll take him down a level from whatever stratospheric plane he currently lives on

Dream-ing of being less of a Bitch

Despair. I am going to come to your flat. And physically maim you.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

bring the pain

Dead Inside

annnnnnddd I think it’s time for this conversation to end. I don’t want to have to actually restrain Dream.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

I’ll tell Hob you said hi once I find him Dream :)

Dream-ing of being less of a Bitch

I Know Where You Live

Destiny’s Child

CAN YOU ALL. PLEASE. GO TO SLEEP. STOP BLOWING UP MY PHONE WITH NOTIFICATIONS YOU WRETCHED NOCTURNAL CREATURES. Desire change my name back at ONCE.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

😞 finnnneeeeee

---------

Wednesday, 11am

Desire changed the group name to The Making Fun Of Dream Chat

thy heart’s Desire 💅

awwwww. Look how cute he is 😙

[ image ]

Dream are you sure this is the man for you he looks like he actually leaves the house

Dream-ing of being MORE of a Bitch

Where. Did you get. That.

thy heart’s Desire 💅

i know how to use the internet dream 🙄

Dream-ing of being MORE of a Bitch

Unlearn it.

Desire changed Dream’s nickname to Awww, is someone feeling protective?

Dream changed Desire’s nickname to do you Desire the end of your life? you will soon have it

Desire changed Dream’s nickname to Little Bitch Boy

Dream changed Desire’s nickname to Biting Killing Biting Violence And Killing

Desire changed Dream’s nickname to moooooommmmmm dream’s threatening me :(

Destiny changed Desire’s nickname to Idiot 1

Destiny changed Dream’s nickname to Idiot 2

Destiny

Stop.

Destiny changed the group name to I Have Had Enough.

Idiot 1

you know what? I’m keeping this

Dream changed their nickname to You Will All Regret This

You Will All Regret This

I am not asking I am telling you Leave Hob Alone.

Idiot 1

sigh finnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeee

--------

Friday, 2pm

Desire changed the group name to The Hob Gadling Thirst Chat

hmm i’m Desiring… something

Dream I am looking disrespectfully 😳 [ image ]

Dreaming of Murder

Were it not for the laws of this land I would carve out your eyes with a dull blade.

hmm i’m Desiring… something

Yowch! Touchy. So… can I steal him or… 👉👈

Dreaming of Murder

If you wish to find yourself in the Underworld.

hmm i’m Desiring… something

could use a good quest ngl…. getting bored maybe hob can entertain me….

Dreaming of Murder

Do not. Touch.

hmm i’m Desiring… something

come on share your toys didn’t you learn anything in primary school?

SupercalifragilisticexpialidELIRIUM 🤪🤪🤪🤪

dream skipped 2 years 🌷

hmm i’m Desiring… something

right right of course of course of COURSE how could I possibly forget yeeted straight to university every time i remember that I’m like wow… that explains so much…

Desire changed their nickname to Hob Gadling if you’re out there he won’t treat you like I will

Dream changed their nickname to 🔪

Dead Inside

Break it up, children.

------

Sunday, 7pm

bring me a DRREEEAAAAMMMMM 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Desire what have you done. Why is Hob texting me about you annoying him. …I hate you.

Dream changed their nickname to Death I Require Your Assistance In Vacating This Mortal Plane

Dead Inside

Desire. Tell me you did NOT go and harass Hob.

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

depends on your definition of harassment I just wanted to MEET him jeez 🙄

Death I Require Your Assistance In Vacating This Mortal Plane

Harassing him for four days is your definition of “““meeting”””?

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

is that what he said? That’s so uncharitable 😶 & shouldn’t I check out any guy that wants to date my brother? 😤

Dead Inside

The last thing you ever have in mind is Dream’s best interests.

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

alright touché for the sake of Dream’s WORST interests I have spoken to hob and I can say that Dream sure has caught himself a live one :)

Death I Require Your Assistance In Vacating This Mortal Plane

What. Does that. Mean.

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

Well. Whomst can resist the charms of Desire?

Dead Inside

You. Did. Not.

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

Better to find out sooner rather than later right?

Dream changed their nickname to I Will Be Your Waking Nightmare

I Will Be Your Waking Nightmare

Run.

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

Relax! As it turns out there IS one man stronger than God herself 😜 awwwww he’s so CUTE dream look so LOYAL so DEFENSIVE omg [text screenshot: Listen. I’ve been trying to be nice because you’re his family and I don’t want to create issues between you guys. But enough. Just, enough. This is not funny and it’s not okay. Seriously? Trying to get me to cheat on him? Do you think that's even remotely okay? It may have been a while since I've had siblings but even I know this is way beyond normal bickering. If this was some kind of "test" consider it passed. If not, that's even worse. I can't believe you would even want to be part of hurting him like that. DON'T flirt with me. Ever. And leave Dream alone I swear, I love him and I won’t see him hurt, even if you are his sibling. Final warning. ] kinda sexc can’t even lie get you a man who will bitch slap someone across the face for ur honor

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

Goddamn you struck a nerve loverboy went OFF I can't believe you got Mister Life Is So Beautiful Oh Look At The Sunshine And Rainbows to SNAP

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

it wasn’t that hard actually he is VERY obsessed with Dream. Lord knows why... Wait what does hob even mean it's been a while SINCE he had siblings I didn't even catch that the first time are they estranged?

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

they're probably dead

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

ohhhh Sunshine & Rainbows has a tragic backstory this is getting *fascinating*

(Direct message)

Death

Desire, lay off. I mean it.

Desire

you’ve always had such a soft spot for him I don’t know WHY

Death

I’m telling you. Stop. A little teasing is fine but it’s gone much MUCH too far.

Desire

Wait is it actually serious? I mean i guess DREAM is horrifically serious about everything he does but like is it serious?

Death

Yes.

Desire

Damn. Wow. Okay

Death

Besides. Hob is my friend too and I don’t want his feelings fucked around with.

Desire

Okay, alright, I surrender! You’ve made your point very clear

Death

I hope so.

Death changed the group name to You Are A Family Try And Behave Like It

SupercalifragilisticexpialidELIRIUM 🤪🤪🤪🤪

Yeah! you r all being so mean about hob i think he seems nice 😊

angst. tragedy. Despair, even 🙃

nice is one way to put it

don’t let your Memes be Dreams

Alright, Dream, fine, truce, okay? I won’t bother Hob anymore And hey, at least he passed the test, right? That’s a loyal one if I’ve ever seen it

Dead Inside

You’re not helping.

I Will Be Your Waking Nightmare

You. Dare. To think you can say his name? You dare to test him, and bother him, and play with him like he is your toy? Do you think you have the right to even speak to him? Your audacity astounds me. Your selfishness also, though it is not surprising. I will not allow you to torment him. If you have an ounce of self-preservation remaining in your hedonistic frame, you will Leave. Him. Be. You will not enjoy the consequences otherwise.

Dream has left the group.

Sunday, 9pm

Hob

Dream, respectfully, your sibling’s a dick.

Dream

No need to be respectful about it. I did not put Desire up to this “test,” in case you were wondering.

Hob

No, didn’t think you had.

Dream

I dislike “games” and tests without clear, set rules. Unjust trickery. Desire loves such things, of course. I think they were rather hoping you would fail.

Hob

That’s offensive. As if. Are you they always like that with you?

Dream

Usually we bicker back and forth. But this is not a subject I care them to push me on.

Hob

No. I wouldn’t think so. Is that why you don’t really want people to know about this?

Dream

One reason, yes. I knew it would summon my siblings’ meddling. I did not want you pulled into that. Though I suppose it was inevitable.

Hob

Family kinda comes with the territory, I think Not that we’re on super even ground there :/

Dream

No, and I am sorry for that.

Hob

My mother would have liked you She was weak for sensitive souls

Dream

Oh, is that what I am?

Hob

Mmhmm 😌

Dream

Then it is a shame I did not get to meet her.

Hob

:’)

Dream

Desire showed me what you sent.

Hob

Oh? Sorry I was… pretty angry some of it might have been excessive. Really not trying to create MORE sibling conflict.

Dream

These rifts between us are not your fault. Desire was, however, using you to drive them open further and for that, I apologize.

Hob

Not your doing, it's alright Not sure which message you meant though That I sent.

Dream

[text screenshot: I love him ] Did you mean it?

Hob

Alright I’m coming over we're doing this in person not over text.

-----

Friday, 8pm

Desire added Death, Destiny, Delirium, Despair, and Hob to the group the Fam + Hob sans Dream 😜

Desire changed Hob’s nickname to Dream’s “Special Friend”

Dream’s “Special Friend”

Yeah I don’t think so

Hob has left the group.

#i made myself cry laughing writing this i can only hope it makes you all laugh as well #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #desire of the endless #dreamling #dreamling fic #complex mathematics #my writing

[votestaynight2]

6th Day - beautiful (I) (Scene 4)

―――I can't restrain myself, and I shouldn't even try to. I clench my fist tighter. Shinji just stands there, smiling as he awaits my attack, and―――

"Please stop, Nii-san…! Please, don't do it here―――!" I get myself together with her voice.

"――――Sakura." "What a surprise. Isn't this the first time you've talked to me like that?" Shinji's voice sounds more delighted than I've ever heard from him. Sakura is hanging her head, her body trembling.

"So? Say it again. I couldn't hear you really well." "……Yes. I'll do anything you say, so please don't do it in front of Senpai. I'll go home if you tell me to."

"Ohh. So you're going to do anything I say?" "………" Sakura nods.

"I see. If you're so determined, then I won't take you home. A big brother has to respect his sister's wishes, after all. Isn't that right, Emiya?" "――――Shinji."

"Haha. Don't make such a scary face. That was just a joke. People will form a bad opinion of you if you won't let go of your grudges." Shinji walks back to the front door.

"Bye. Take care of Sakura, Emiya. ―――But don't forget what you just said, Sakura." Shinji waves goodbye and leaves. He leaves alone, without taking Sakura with him.

We resume cooking. "………" Unsure of what to say, I cut up the tomatoes and pumpkins in silence. The unbroken sound of chopping gives the kitchen an awkward atmosphere.

"The rice is done, Senpai. Fujimura-Sensei isn't here yet, but we can start dinner without her, right?" "Oh―――yeah. It's a bit early, but let's do that." "Okay. I'll prepare right away."

Sakura moves briskly, as if nothing happened.

…She's obviously pushing herself. Sakura pretends to be okay so that I won't be worried.

"……" I should act that way too if that's how Sakura's going to act. Sakura's the one who got hurt. If she's going to smile, I have to smile as… well…?

"Sakura?" The sound of a bowl breaking causes me to turn around. "――――――――" Pieces of the shattered bowl are by Sakura's feet.

"――――――――" "…..!" Sakura suddenly collapses. She sinks to a sitting position, then keels over backward――――

"Sakura―――!" I quickly raise her off the floor. "Ow…!?" Sakura's body is burning hot, even through her uniform.

"Sakura… Hey, Sakura…!" "Eh――――Sen… pai…? What's… going on…?"

There's no strength in her voice. But she tries her best to say something.

"It's not 'what's going on'…!? You're still sick…!" "Oh… no… I'm fine." "You idiot…! You wouldn't collapse like that if you're fine!"

―――Damn, I'm an idiot. I knew Sakura had a cold, but I overworked her without thinking. And to finish it off, there's what happened just now. After everything she's been through physically and mentally, it's natural that she'd collapse――――!

"I'm sorry for breaking the bowl, Senpai. I'll clean it up right awa―――kya!?" I hold up Sakura in my arms.

"S-Senpai!?" "Dinner can come later. I'm going to take you to bed and have you rest. Complain to me after you get better."

I head to the outbuilding with Sakura in my arms. She's trying to say something, but I ignore her. I'm so mad that I can't talk.

"――――――――" Sakura must have given up, as she is silent by the time we get to the guest room. She hangs her head, but follows my directions. Although her face is flushed with fever, it doesn't seem all that bad.

I leave her room. I'm changing the menu for tonight. I have to hurry and go make some rice porridge so that I can return her favor.

It's almost ten o'clock. We ate dinner, and it's time to start patrolling the area.

"……" Sakura is sleeping in the guest room. I ate dinner with Saber. Fuji-Nee never showed up, so she must be busy tonight.

"Shirou. It is almost time." "……" Saber urges me. For tonight――――

#votestaynight

[lokiskitten]

Request for @cara-serpens !!

“Loki is tortured, really badly tortured. He may be freed from the avengers and female reader ( which he knows well as she was always friendly to him ) but nobody really cares about his condition. It’s not just injuries and pain, but also pure fear as soon as someone approaches him. Will female readers succeed in making Loki feel safe? Can she take care of his wounds on the body and in the soul and give him a feeling of secureness and comfort? How would he react?”

Loki Laufeyson | gruesome torture

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after finding out that the Avengers have been secretly torturing Loki instead of sending him back to Asgard, you step forward and offer him your help in hopes that he will be able to recover.

warnings : dark!avengers, mention of physical torture, electrocution, mention of open wounds.

Screams of pain echoed through the underground levels of the Avengers’ compound, fuzzy sounds accompanying the groans and whines as you stepped forward through the hallway. You had been originally tasked to check up on the building’s batteries, the box being located a few floors bellow earth- but after hearing such noises you couldn’t help but grow curious but concerned regarding who could’ve been making such sounds. Following the screams, your feet were soon to lead you until a closed door against which you pressed your ear in order to receive confirmation regarding your doubts and chosen path. The screams had to come from the inside of this closed area. Without hesitation, your hand pushed against the metallic door and allowed it to open, shock filling your organism upon stumbling onto such a horrific sight.

None but the Asgardian god of mischief who was known as Loki appeared to be tied down against a metallic table, wrists and ankles restrained by leather straps which held hip back from escaping this gruesome situation. He was receiving electric shocks coming straight from a device locked against his scalp, which had easily led his hair to get messy. However, other form of bruises appeared to cover the rest of his naked body, whether they were sealed or open wounds. By the table’s side stood Tony- visibly enjoying to provide his enemy with pain though it was none but Banner who controlled the entire torture device. Whilst Stark simply wished to see pain and fear reflect in Loki’s eyes, Banner stood there in an uncomfortable manner. You could tell Tony had probably forcefully dragged him into this mess.

You were soon to understand that your leader had lied to all of you- claiming that they had lost Loki through the battle only to be able to sneak him down here in order to make his own justice. But this simply didn’t work out for you. Banner was the first one to notice your presence, though you had to speak up in order to catch Tony’s attention. “What are you doing?” You asked, watching as Iron Man’s head lifted to make eye contact with you. He knew that now was too late to back away, and that his prideful self would have to admit what he was doing without speaking a single lie to you if he wanted to maintain his reputation. “Just giving him a taste of his own medicine.” Tony answered arrogantly, easily leading you to drift off to the doctor in hopes to make this whole thing stop. You were aware that there was no way in hell you would’ve been able to make Tony change his mind.

“Stop this.” You ordered, earning a rather uncomfortable eye contact with Bruce who then looked towards his superior as if he was physically asking him if he was allowed to obey your order. “Banner- if you do this-..” Tony began, only to end up being cut off by your determined self. “Bruce. Whatever he told you, this is not the right way.” You spoke empathetically. Thankfully, your strategy adding up to the doctor’s natural empathy ended up leading the man to stop the electricity from nourishing the machine by pressing on a simple button, both of you earning a head shake from the Avenger standing by the table. “Jesus Christ-“ Tony cursed, feet beginning to lead him towards the controllers though you were soon to stand in his way in order to stop him.

“Does Thor know about this?” You asked, hoping that reminding Tony that Loki’s brother was one of yours would make him change his mind for good. Unfortunately for you, it was rare for Iron Man to ever fear much as his huge ego held him back from doing so. “There’s a lot of things Thor doesn’t know.” Joked the man, rudely underlining the fact that he believed Thor to be a muscular idiot whilst still trying to get past you. But your tough self refused to move, which ended up leading the older man to groan in annoyance. “Fine. Two hours break for him. I wouldn’t want to skip my lunch.” Tony spoke before making his way out of the secret torture room alongside Bruce who appeared to be in pure distress. The doors closed and locked behind you, trapping you in here with poor Loki who was still attempting to recover from this tough step.

He was panting, his chest rising and dropping at quite an incredible rate. You could tell that the demigod was exhausted, and even if he had wrecked havoc around New York, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Carefully nearing the table, you watched as droplets of sweat ran down his bare skin- which you soon understood was water that Tony had sprayed around after removing his armor to make sure the electricity would properly pass through his body. His ankles were the first thing you freed, remaining cautious regarding his usually agressive persona. You didn’t want to risk having him put his anger out on you. “I’m gonna free your wrists now, okay? Remember, I’m doing this to help you.” You informed before undoing the upper leather straps.

Unlike what you would’ve expected, Loki’s body simply rolled to the side before falling to the floor and nearly crushing your feet- which he would have if you hadn’t backed away after freeing him. He appeared lifeless, though you could clearly tell that he was breathing due to the weak movements of his back. The poor man simply didn’t have the strength to use his powers nor move any longer- and god knew for how many hours Tony had probably left him here, through pain and torture. You were soon to assume that Loki was probably cold, his wet and bare skin being an awful duo when it came to warmth. “I’ll fetch something to warm you up.” You informed before moving away from his body, walking around the room and seeking for a blanket or other piece of clothing to offer him.

Meanwhile, the demigod found the strength to turn around and look up at your back, surprised that a human such as you who on top of that was part of the avengers would agree to help him. Groaning out of pain as he sat up on his elbows, the raven haired man carried on following each of your steps to make sure you wouldn’t attack him by surprise. Thankfully, you were soon to lay your hands on a blanket, body turning around as you approached Loki’s injured self. However, the demigod surprisingly began to place his hand before his body and lower his head- probably out of fear that you were meant to hurt him again. Besides, humiliation stole away his envy of being touched by anyone at the moment. “Pl- please.. I learned my lesson.. I can’t take anymore of it...” he admitted breathlessly, earning a sigh from you.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Loki. Even if I admit you’d deserve a good beating for wrecking havoc in this city.” You answered, his blue eyes peeking up at you in a shy manner. “It’s just a blanket. See?” You added, raising the large piece of fabric above your chest to make sure he would be able to see it properly. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Loki ended up nodding weakly, visibly agreeing to receive the blanket he was in desperate need of. “Sit up.” You asked him, just in aim to be able to wrap the clothing around his back and keep him warm. However, when the male found himself sitting up on his bum, you couldn’t help but notice the wide scars which adorned his back. They appeared healed. “Is that from Tony?.. they look old-“ You began, only to be stopped by the demigod himself.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He responded as his hand rudely took ahold of the blanket, and all of that whilst avoiding eye contact with you. You sighed. “Fine. But looks like I’m trapped in here with you for now.. So the best we can do is remain polite.” You responded wisely before sitting down beside him as Loki wrapped the thick material around his body. It wasn’t the first time you had encountered the demigod, and you had felt surprised to see that he had stolen the Tesseract and attempted to reduce New York to dust. It just didn’t look like something he’d do. Unfortunately, your alliance with the avengers had always held you back from getting to know him better. You two made eye contact for a brief second which allowed you to notice the open wounds on his face and chest- the only part of his body which remained uncovered.

“Will you allow me to get a closer look at those? They might get infected..” you asked, tone lowering just so slightly as you remembered the way his healed scars looked. They didn’t appear as if anyone had taken care of them, which had resulted in a rather healed for sure but bumpy texture. Face to Loki’s lack of response, you decided to take the decision by yourself. Getting up from where you had been sitting, you made your way until the pharmacy cupboard which was part of Bruce’s small handmade lab. You managed to lay your hands on everything you needed- bandaids, alcohol, coton...- which now allowed you to make your way back to Loki. The raven haired man remained suspicious, looking up at you with squinted eyes and following every single one of your steps.

Upon sitting on your knees beside him, you could sense Loki attempting to move further away from you in the most discreet manner- a detail you didn’t bother to speak up about. You could understand he felt afraid and uncertain, but you were willing to prove to him that you meant ho harm or whatsoever. “Just a little bit of alcohol on a piece of coton will do just right.” You explained through your steps, keeping Loki informed of every move just like doctors did with young children. “It might sting a little, but I assume a tough guy like you went through worst, Mmh?” You joked before your hand gently started to approach Loki’s face, the man’s head backing away as you tried to reach his skin. It annoyed you.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make efforts too, because otherwise we’re still gonna be here when Tony would have finished his lunch.” You explained, underlining that him constantly backing away could lead this cleaning process to take hours. After hearing this sentence, Loki’s head finally ceased to move away though his blue eyes remained on you- orbs shooting daggers and body getting ready to intervene if you ever attempted to backstab him and bring him harm. “Breath in.” You asked empathetically before allowing the alcohol coated coton to gently collide with the bruise on his nose. The poor boy winced loudly, his entire body tensing up as your arm went motionless. “I’m sorry.” You spoke, leading Loki’s eyelids to open.

“Sorry?..” he asked whilst making eye contact with you, his calm self now allowing your hand to take care of his face without letting go a single sound. “Yeah. Why?” You carried on discussing with him, believing that it was a good way of distracting his brain from the pain. Loki’s eyes looked away, orbs growing moist as he bit down on his gum. The truth was, no one had ever apologized for manhandling or neglecting him- and hearing you say such a thing to him had honestly reached and pierced through his heart within a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help but remember the horrors Thanos made him go through before he arrived in New York, and the constant conflicts with his father. However, his pride held him back from thanking you or allowing his tears to go down.

“There you go. All cleaned up.” You informed once you had finally finished to clean his face, this statement dragging Loki out of his painful thoughts. You got up from where you had been sitting in order to throw the dirty pieces of coton away and put the rest of the medical furnitures back in their place, and all of that whilst Loki allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts again. “This might cause a civil war, but I’ll inform you brother that you’re here as soon as I can.” You notified as the demigod finally found the strength to get up to his feet- blanket wrapped around his waist- though he still had to lean against the table for support. Is this what empathy feels like? The demigod asked himself as he continued to stare into the void. After such a long time spent by himself, he had forgotten about the many assets of friendship.

You kept Loki company until Tony finally unlocked the room for you to exit. Not once had the demigod thanked you for what you did and were about to do for him, and yet you still felt guilty about leaving him in Tony’s hands until you were able to find the god of thunder. However, for the first time ever, you had been able to distinguish fear and gratitude through Loki’s wealthy orbs.

I’m so sorry this took a while to write! Was having a writer’s block. But here it is now! I hope you was able to enjoy it❤️ take care.

special tag for my best friend @devilsuga who I’d heal and protect on my life if I had to.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston roleplay #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston #tom Hiddleston headcanons #Loki fluff #Loki smut #Loki imagine #loki series #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

[summer-time]

Stress relief - or how to ask forgiveness at your Copad (part 1)

Summary: after a rought mission, you only want to return home, grab a few snacks, and sleep for a month, but Crosshair decide to be his annoying self. The ending is not what you ever thought of.

Pairing: Crosshair/female!Reader (kinda pre relationship)

Tags: canon typical violence; Crosshair being his charming self; language; allusion at sex; reader is without physical description; reader use her/she pronouns; copad = desire in Mando'a.

N/A: I'm sleep deprived - it's like 3.44a.m. here - but I needed to write something with our favourite sniper. And because I saw so many great fics for the Kinktober here on Tumblr, my mind spiraled deep into my dirty toughts: the smutty part will be up today (after I had a chance to sleep) or tomorrow. This is a prequel to the main course - just to warm yourself up ;)

"What the hell was that?!" - you nearly screamed, anger twisting into your mind and blood boiling with rage and incredulously.

The idiot trooper in front of you didn't even seem to listen to your hissed voice, busy as he was at rolling his stupid toothpick into his mouth and grinning victoriously with the rest of the squad.

His disregard made your anger skyrocketing to the stars and above, eyes narrowing at the lazy and unabashed gaze he threw at you.

"Hello again, Dollface, miss me?" - he dared to ask you like he didn't break formation without comming you. After all, you weren't part of his squad, so if you nearly escaped your death for his little change of plans, he couldn't even care less about it.

"Don't fucking call me that! Are you out of your goddammed mind?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" - you hissed angrily while the stings of your wounds reminded you that you needed to stop the bleeding soon and putting on some bacta to heal them.

You watched as his sharp eyes zoomed onto your face - with a shade of anger under his cold irises - but you were caught too much into your own emotions to care about that. You nearly died because he changed position without warning you; you thought he had your back, but he left you in the middle of the battle to run to Tech.

If you were less angry and more logical, you could understand his motivations: Tech was his brother, his teammate from birth, and he was a little vulnerable while he downloaded pieces of information. You could sympathize with the instinct of protecting the people you cared about, and care a little less about a stranger who would be with the squad only for a couple of missions.

But you were also on this mission. You tried to be gentle and respectful to all members. You didn't try to be a burden to them, but rather you willingly shared your knowledge and helped around the ship. You were the one to discover the word codes used to enter the Separatist base.

And your reward had been a near-death sentence, thanks to the sniper.

"It's a side effect I didn't know about? Are your brain cells all dead?"

"Careful now, Princess, you better watch your tone with me." - he slyly said, piercing stare right into your eyes. Fuck this guy, and fuck his attitude.

"You changed position without telling me!" - you hissed, trying to make him understand the tight spot he threw you in. Your anger strongly returned at his raised eyebrow, his toothpick lazying rolling through his lips. Again.

"You didn't need to know. Besides, you said you could take care of yourself on the battlefield, did you not? I don't see the problem here." - what a complete bastard! Yes, you were training in combat, but you believed he was covering you - especially if you were overwhelmed with enemies. And he didn't!

And he didn't care. Your anger suddenly left you at the mercy of the battle aftermath - at the pain of your wounds, the soreness of your muscles, and the tiredness of your eyes. Your emotions faded from your face, and with a tired sigh, you left the Bad Batch to return to their ship to treat your wounds.

The return trip was quick, even if filled with a low tension between you and Crosshair: Hunter had tried to pry as to why you were been so silent, preferring to be left alone, but you deviated his attention into helping him make his mission report. You choose to leave out your very, very bad experience: you quite liked the squad, and a bad review would surely catch the Kaminoes' attention. And you didn't want that, even if the Bastard could use some manners drilled into his thick head.

"Well, guys, see you at another mission, I suppose." - waving your hand, you quickly disappeared in the crowd, not giving the clones time to replay at your goodbye. You needed some time off to acknowledge what happened: going to your apartment was the best idea so far.

You wanted to relax, to spend the rest of the evening drinking hot tea and watching bad holomovies, maybe getting a warm shower before going to bed. Unfortunately, your good luck decided to leave you at the mercy of the Bastard: as you were taking your keys out of your pack, you caught the unique black armor patter on the corner of your eyes. You quietly swore, hoping it was Hunter and not the sniper: but you were wrong. Fuck your damned luck and all the stars above.

"We need to talk, Princess." - his monotone voice was already grating on your nerves. It wasn't enough that you spent your entire time listening to his sarcastic comments on your qualification or ignoring you altogether, now he wanted to talk? Well. Fuck. Him.

"No, we don't. " - you hoped it was the end of the story. But the Bastard didn't seem to listen at all, roughly grabbing your keys from your hands and walking into your home - without an invitation.

Yes, a few bangs on the wall for his head could solve the problems. Maybe.

"Oh, Crosshair, come in, please, make yourself at home." - you snarled at his back, closing the door. You saw a smirk on his face, wiped out when he curiously gazed into the small kitchen and the living room.

"What is your problem with me?" - he suddenly asked, voice still monotone. First, you angrily tried to set him on fire with only your eyes, before spilling then out what had happened. And his face kept his stupid expression on, rolling toothpick in his mouth, and intense gaze on you.

"We knew you could handle it." - that was his fucking response. You wanted to hurt him so bad, to let him feel at least one percent of your swirling emotions. And you tried to throw a punch at his stupid smirk, willing to wipe it out - an impulsive reaction of your idiotic brain - but the Bastard caught your wrist, pulling you closer to his body.

You snarled, trying to pull roughly your arm free and out of his grasp, not that you really could: despite your hard training, Crosshair was still a clone, bred to be a better soldier that you could ever be, and he was one of the most skilled. You couldn't escape his grasp without him letting you out. And at the moment, he didn't want to.

"Ah-ah, Dollface, you don't need to be this physical. But if that it's something you want, I'm more than happy to help." - stupid, arrogant smirk; a harsh character that hid one deep desire: after all, why not help his poor team member? She seemed in need of steaming off some stress, and Crosshair knew a very pleasurable way to do it.

He spitted his anti-stress on the floor and sneaked his free hand to her neck's base, gently cupping it while catching how his maybe-Copad's eyes followed his rapid movements: her pupils were wide open from anger, cheeks nearly red after all her shouting, silence interruped only by her hushed breaths. She made a delicious imagine, one that Crosshair hoped would be followed by something more if the evening would go on.

He kept under control his instinct to grab her chin and kiss her senselessly, not giving her time to think or speak. But no, he wanted to make sure she would be willing, that she could still refuse him and his offer if she wanted to: so, he slowed down, taking great pain in restraining the part of his mind that felt exposed, and great pleasure on seeing her pupils dilatating impossibly wide, black consuming all her lovely eyes.

He adsorbed all her little inches of breath, of her warm cheeks now flushed bright red, of how her body had slightly stiffened at their shared closeness and then relaxed. She could still say no, and he would back off without bringing this interaction up ever again.

He gave his Copad more time, to refuse, to say yes, to remain there, to do as she pleased, before he decided to initiate something: if not a kiss, maybe a gentle headbutt, a Keldabe kiss only for her. Not that she would understand the real deep meaning of it, she didn't even know Mando'a or their culture. It could be his little secret, or he could use it to annoy her in the future; maybe she would lose all her patience after hearing him call her by any pet name in Mando'a and not knowing it. Maybe his brothers would laugh at him for being a romantic under his cold demeanor.

"Let me say how sorry I am for your little misadventure." - Crosshair smirked, licking his lips: she didn't say no, she didn't refuse him and didn't seem scared too much - she stopped struggling to free her hand from his grasp some time ago. He could kiss her at least, and then if she allowed it, he would made up to her: he wanted her forgiveness, and the sniper had some very convincing arguments to prove it.

#star wars #writing #fanfiction #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #summer sing #tbb #clone force 99 #crosshair #star wars tbb #bad batch

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 5

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Harry barely reacted in time to put up a Shield Charm before two Stunning Spells shot across the kitchen table at him and deflected up into the ceiling.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Ginny and Ron shouted at the same time, Ron flailing and tipping over backward in his chair.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Charlie screamed at Harry.

"Is he pressuring you into this?" Bill growled at Ginny.

"There is no reason to resort to something so drastic!" said Percy.

"And it's definitely not something to laugh about," said George.

Fleur was babbling a mile a minute in French, tears welling in her eyes and trying to get Victoire to stop crying.

Molly had collapsed into Arthur's arms and fainted.

"Have you lot all lost your minds!?" shouted Harry. "Why is it so important that I keep it?"

"What use do we have for it, anyway?" asked Ginny.

A second explosion of angry shouting erupted as all the Weasleys talked over each other.

"How in the WORLD is all this the appropriate response to Harry and Ginny living together!?" pleaded Hermione.

"THAT'S NOT — wait, they're living together!?" said Percy.

Hermione gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh please," George rolled his eyes, "Anyone with a brain already knew that."

"What!? Why didn't you say anything!" said Charlie, "We could have stopped this before it happened!"

"Gee, thanks, Hermione," growled Harry as she blushed harder.

"Then what the hell are all you gits talking about!?" barked Ginny loudly to cut through the cacophony of testosterone. "As annoying as you always are when treating me like an innocent girl, it makes more sense than getting upset about Harry's stupid Wizengamot seat!"

"Harry has a Wizengamot seat!?" asked Percy in awe.

"Don't get any ideas, Perce, Harry's taken," said George.

"Of course we're not talking about that!" said Molly, her voice shaking as she regained consciousness and stood up straight. "We're talking about the baby!"

Harry and Ginny looked sideways at Victoire.

"THE NEW BABY!" Molly shrieked, growing more exasperated.

"What, Hermione's baby?" asked Ginny.

Molly fainted again.

"Ex-CUSE me!?" cried Hermione as every head in the room spun to face her, Ron's turning a sickly shade of green.

"Oh...I shouldn't have eaten all those biscuits," Ron muttered fearfully, holding his stomach.

"Wait, Hermione's pregnant too?" asked Percy.

"No, I am not!" said Hermione forcefully.

"Wait, what do you mean 'too?'" asked Ginny. "Who else is pregnant?"

"THERE IS NO 'ELSE!' I AM NOT PREGNANT!" Hermione screamed. "Can we please establish that first?"

"Love, just calm down," said Ron softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "It's okay, we can handle this. Why don't you just sit down…."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, even if I were pregnant, if you start coddling me you'll regret it. Ginny, why the hell did you say that I'm pregnant?"

"Well she kept dropping hints left and right that someone was pregnant!" Ginny gestured wildly towards Fleur, who until now was doing a good job of avoiding the chaos, and blushed self-consciously when it was her turn to be the focus of all the anger.

"Ginny, just stop it!" Fleur lashed out. "I was trying to encourage you to come clean!"

"...Me?"

"Ginny, we know about the baby," said Arthur calmly. "We've known for days."

About a dozen different emotions collided violently inside Harry. He couldn't imagine what the expression on his face might look like. He slowly turned on the spot towards Ginny.

"I'm sure you're about to say something all noble and comforting," said Ginny dryly. "But you don't have to be that good of a boyfriend yet. No, I'm not pregnant."

"I applaud your performance, Gin-Gin," said George, "but nothing stays secret for long in this family." He jerked his head toward Ron.

"Wha—Why are you jerking your head towards me, don't jerk your head towards me!" Ron panicked.

"Why is he jerking his head towards you, Ron?" Ginny seethed.

"Hell if I know!" Ron said defensively. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, this is the first I've heard of any new babies!"

"Sorry, Ronniekins, but you spilled the beans to Teddy, and he sold you out," said George.

"You told Teddy that I'm pregnant!?" Ron flinched as Ginny smacked his arm.

"Using much more vulgar language," Molly whimpered, still trembling and desperately clutching onto Arthur for support.

"I did not tell Teddy that you're pregnant!" Ron spoke up. "I never even—"

He stopped speaking and his eyes bulged out. He and Hermione faced each other, realization dawning on their faces.

Ron's voice is small. "...Oh—Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it!" he cowered as Hermione started furiously hitting him.

"You — complete — idiot Ronald Weasley!" she shouted with each hit.

Ginny's older brothers were looking far too pleased with themselves for her taste.

"Okay, so can we stop this charade now?" asked Bill.

"Okay, I don't know what this latest domestic incident is about," said Ginny, pointing at the sparring couple, "I just know that I'm not pregnant."

"Teddy heard Ron saying that Harry had knocked you up!" said Charlie.

"No….but I might have said that it was likely that he would knock her up."

Harry gaped at him. "Why were you discussing me knocking up Ginny at all!?" he demanded, as he physically restrained Ginny from attacking Ron.

"Because you both were being so bloody shameless!" Ron shouted back. "It's enough to drive anyone mental! Don't try to annoy your brother by having no self-control and then get mad when he says you have no self control!"

"I want the record to show that I did not partake in this line of reasoning and told him he was being ridiculous," said Hermione.

"Thanks for the support, Love," said Ron.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy all seemed to have deflated like balloons. Their faces matched their hair and they were looking anywhere but Ginny's furious face.

"Well...erm…." said Charlie, trying to keep his face stern, "Ron's right, you should still—"

"Oh, do not try to still chest-beat after you've all been exposed as idiots!" Ginny hissed. "You've all been absolutely terrible to Harry and me based on what a toddler overheard!"

"She is right," Fleur scolded her husband, rejoining the row now that she had calmed Victoire down, "If you zink zat she is pregnant, you should not start fights to stress 'er out! Shame on you!" Bill hung his head.

"You know, I really don't think that trying to manipulate Ginny into talking about it is much better," said Harry flatly, "You all need to mind your own business!"

"Yes, don't think I'm going to forget this any time soon!" Ginny waved a threatening finger at all of them. "Not only treating me like an idiot child who's been taken advantage of, but actually thinking we're stupid and reckless enough to unintentionally get pregnant in the first place!"

"See, Molly dear?" Arthur told his wife gently, "it was all just a misunderstanding." He had guided her into a chair and was trying to calm her down. Her breathing was quick and shallow and her eyes were darting around madly.

"...No. No, it all fit…" she shook her head violently, "They're covering it up. You need to tell the truth, Ginny!"

It was clear that there was no reasoning with her, she had become delirious by now from all the chaos and panic.

Ginny groaned. "All right, you want to settle this? Fine, let's settle this." And without another word, she marched out of the kitchen into the sitting room, threw some floo powder into the fireplace, called out "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared into the flames.

The kitchen was finally quiet for the next few minutes as Molly's breathing slowly but surely slowed down to merely anxious instead of an outright panic attack. Bill and Fleur were bickering quietly in French, while Hermione silently gave Ron her best "I told you so" look for not watching what he said around Teddy.

After what felt like an eternity, the fireplace roared to life again and Ginny marched back into the kitchen, dusting soot off her clothes.

"Where did you go?" asked Harry.

She held up a vial of clear liquid. "Apothecary," she said shortly. The unique shape of the bottle was instantly recognizable.

"Oh, well that's just great," said Ron tiredly. "Harry Potter's girlfriend hastily buying a pregnancy test potion, I'm sure that won't be in the headlines tomorrow."

Ginny ignored him as she skimmed over the card that came attached to the potion. "Okay, yeah, blue for boy, pink for girl, white for not pregnant."

She uncorked the flask, set it down on the table, used her wand to cut off a single strand of her hair, and lowered it into the solution. The clear, colorless contents of the bottle instantly started bubbling furiously.

"See?" Ginny barked furiously, "So, now that we've gotten this circus over with, I would greatly appreciate it if you gits kindly butted the hell out of my love life, and we can all….just….move….on…."

Her voice trailed off into nothing as her eyes remained locked on the vial on the table.

Which was now a bright, vibrant blue.

#hinny ficfest #hinny #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #romione #hinny fanfiction #hinny fanfic #hp #harry potter #ao3 link #harry x ginny #ron x hermione #ginny weasley #weasley family #farce #comedy #ron weasley #hermione granger

[mimisempai]

In wine, there is truth

Summary:

Loki challenges Thor that Mobius is worthy of holding Mjolnir... Result of the challenge: A drunk Mobius and a shovel talk from Thor... Don’t you say, in wine there is truth...?

Notes:

Someone asked me on Tumblr how I thought Mobius could be if he was drunk + me messing with photoshop to put Mjolnir in Mobius' hands = this crazy little story :p

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33165526

1575 words - Rating G

"Mobius! Mobius! Mobius!"

What am I doing here? Damn Loki!

Thor's friends chanted his name, Loki looked at him with a malicious smile and Thor with a worried look.

And he, Mobius, had his hand on the handle of Mjolnir just because Loki could not help challenging his brother.

"Whoever is worthy of the hammer shall have the power!"

Thor said this in the grandiloquent tone that was his at times, twirling his hammer at the end of his hand as if it were a simple carpentry tool.

Loki stepped forward and said to him with a defiant smile, "I know someone who is worthy." He pulled Mobius in front of him.

Mobius immediately replied, "No, no, not at all."

Loki had taken on a serious look and said softly, "But I'm sure you do."

Under the cheers, Mobius inwardly pestering, closed his eyes, grabbed the handle and pulled, about to put all his strength into it, knowing that he would never be able to lift it.

Suddenly the cheering had died down and instead he heard only gasps.

He opened an eye to see that he had lifted Mjolnir four inches above the ground.

He lifted his arm again, and soon he had the hammer in the air and the gasps turned into shouts of joy and laughter.

He saw Thor smile, but saw his smile widen when he put the hammer down.

Loki simply said as he clenched his fist, "I knew it, I knew it."

Thor stood up and walked towards him. Mobius could not help but gulp as his presence was so imposing. Loki sensed his distress and moved closer to him with a protective attitude.

But Thor's face widened with a big smile, "Mobius! My friend! My brother! Let's celebrate with some good wine! Let's all celebrate! My future brother-in-law is worthy of the hammer!"

He put one arm around Mobius and the other around Loki and led them to the banquet hall.

**********

Much later Loki supported a very drunk Mobius to enter their suite in Asgard. It was the first time he had seen his lover drunk and the experience was entertaining to say the least.

Mobius was trying to lift Loki's tunic, his movements unsteady due to the alcohol.

"Why are you wearing so much clothing?" Mobius whined.

Loki had to restrain himself from laughing, "You want to take them off me?"

Mobius slowly nodded, "But I can't do it then, I'll just lift them up and take you there."

"You're barely able to stand, love," Loki replied, trying to drag a staggering Mobius toward the living room, " First of all I'm going to give you something to keep you from feeling sick after all the mead you've ingested."

"I don't feel sick," Mobius complained, letting Loki push him back to the couch.

"Right now, you're not. But wait, in a few hours you're going to hate everything."

"Not you," said Mobius, pouting, "I could never hate you.  I love you."

Loki smiled fondly as he gently ran his fingers through Mobius' hair, "So do I, but I'm still going to get you some water."

Loki went to get a glass of water, returned quickly, and got Mobius to drink, who was sitting on the couch, or rather slumped over.

He sat down next to him and asked, "Did you at least have fun?"

"Yeah, Thor's great, and so are his friends Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Vals- uh V-Volstagg." said Mobius, stuttering from the alcohol "They're all really really really cooool."

"I wonder if I should be mad at my brother for getting you drunk like that or be jealous of the fact that you love Thor and his friends."

Mobius put his arms around his neck and sat astride Loki and began to kiss him all over, "Noooo, don't be jealous sweetheart, you know I only love you, only you."

"Okay, okay," Loki chuckled. He definitely loved Mobius under the influence of alcohol.

Mobius continued, and while nibbling on Loki's ear, he whispered to him, "They are cool, but you are super cool, you are my super cool boyfriend.

"Really?" replied Loki, amused.

"Mmhmm. But Thor is cool too, and do you know why?"

"Clearly not. Enlighten me love?" Loki couldn't help the little twinge of jealousy. They had reconciled and Loki, thanks to Mobius and his constant support had managed to get past the old grudges, but every now and then it came back to bite him.

Mobius, who seemed to have perceived his change in mood despite his inebriation, kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Don't sulk... he's cool because he said I was his brother-in-law."

"Oh... Oh." realized Loki, who then gulped as he wondered what Mobius would remember the next day.

"So I was wondering..." continued Mobius, "...when my future husband was going to take me to bed."

Loki choked, and as he lifted Mobius up and took him to their room, he wondered if he would like Mobius to remember or forget.

Then he whispered into Mobius' ear, "I'm taking you to bed to sleep, like I told you, you're too drunk to do anything, and I'd rather you remember that tomorrow if we do anything."

They arrived in the room and Loki put Mobius gently on the bed.

Once on the bed, Mobius immediately began to undress, throwing his clothes everywhere and Loki watched him with amusement.

Once almost naked, wearing only his briefs, Mobius held out his hands to Loki with an adorable pout, "Come join me sweetheart."

"Yeah I'm coming but we're not going to do anything.", Loki said, stripping off his clothes as Mobius did before, sliding in next to him and covering them up.

"Don't you want me?" Mobius whimpered with puppy dog eyes that Loki had never seen before and that made him want to send his virtue flying, but he held his ground and reassured his lover anyway.

"Of course I want it. I still want you love, but not while you're drunk. Tomorrow, when you're sober, I promise I'll show you how much I want you."

Mobius pouted and then smiled, snuggling up to Loki, his head resting on Loki's chest, "I still want you too..." then after a time of silence he whispered, clearly falling asleep, "my future husband."

Loki whose heart leapt in his chest, placed a kiss on Mobius hair, an loving smile on his face and said with a tight throat, "If you ask me, I will say yes."

**********

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The loud knocks on the door echoed throughout their apartment, even rattling the glass on the nightstand.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Loki growled, pulling away from Mobius.

Mobius whimpered, clinging to him. Loki kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Go back to sleep. I'll see what it is and be right back."

Loki just pulled on a shirt over his boxers, not bothering to button it, he suspected who the person knocking on the door was and had no desire to make any effort.

He opened the door and as his doubt was confirmed, he sighed, "Thor.

Thor opened his mouth but Loki stopped him with one hand, "Mobius is still sleeping. So you're going to calm down and speak softly, okay?"

Thor nodded and said, "Little brother, we need to have a serious talk.

"Oh?"

Loki beckoned him in and they sat down face to face in the living room.

Loki waited for Thor to start talking.

He cleared his throat, "Loki. Mobius is a good person. Even Mjolnir has acknowledged him. So I'm here to tell you that if you ever hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally, so help me gods, I will bring down lightning on you. And before you get offended, I gave him the same speech about you last night. I told him that if he ever hurt my little brother, there was no timeline where he could hide, I would find him. Don't ruin what's between you. It's precious, even me, your idiot big brother can see how much you adore each other."

Loki, embarrassed, asked him a little abruptly, "Are you finished?" then, softening, he added, "Thank you. You may not believe it, but I really have changed, or rather, thanks to Mobius, I am finally who I want to be. So I promise you that I will do anything to preserve that."

"I'm sure you will." said Thor as he stood up and pulled Loki into one of his skeleton-crushing, breath-stopping brotherly embraces.

Then Thor whispered to him in a tone that was meant to be threatening, "Lightning...my lightning...on you" before turning away and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Loki walked back into the room, grinning.

"Who was that?" asked Mobius, sitting against the headboard and watching Loki join him.

"Thor. He came to give me a, what would you call, a shovel talk?"

"Huh?...I remember him giving me one last night, but is it an Asgardian tradition to give one to your brother?"

Loki chuckled and put his arm around Mobius' chest, "No, but my brother knows my propensity for messing up my relationships so..."

Mobius reached over and took his chin, "Not anymore sweetheart, not anymore." then pressed a tender kiss to Loki's mouth.

He then followed the line of Loki's jaw, then his cheek, to his ear where he whispered, "I remember everything I said last night... my future husband."

________

Series of Oneshot : Together, for all time, always

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

#Established Relationship #shovel talk #drunkenness #tooth rotting fluff #lokius #lokius fic #loki #mobius m mobius #thor #mjolnir #Loki/Mobius M. Mobius #loki x mobius #moki #wowki

[herstarburststories]

I'd die for you, come kill me

Kinktober Day 11: restrained

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.

@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)

Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.

Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean

“Where is he?”

Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”

“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”

“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.

Sam's gaze softened on yours.

“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”

“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”

The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.

A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.

Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.

“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”

You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 

“If he doesn't pass out…”

“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”

The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?

“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 

“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.

“I said shut up.”

“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?

Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”

You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”

Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”

The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”

Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.

“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.

A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”

He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.

Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.

“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”

What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.

You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”

Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.

“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”

“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.

“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”

Smack.

The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”

Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.

You weren't scared of him.

“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”

“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.

“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”

He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.

The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.

Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”

“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.

“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”

“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”

“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”

There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.

This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.

“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.

That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 

The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.

Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.

Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.

Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.

Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.

You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 

I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.

What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.

Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.

It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.

You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 

You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 

That only made you madder at yourself.

“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.

Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”

You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.

Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 

He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”

He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.

You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”

The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.

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[jobrookekarev]

One Step Forward and Three Steps Back

Chapter One of Six

Words: 2783

Summary: Jo wants to marry Alex more than anything, there’s just a few hoops she has to jump through before she can make that a reality. When she finally takes the plunge to free herself from her past, it all comes back to haunt her.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Jo Wilson/Paul Stadler (Past). 

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Stephanie Edwards, and Paul Stadler.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences, 

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Assault, Drinking, Alcohol, Divorce.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Updates Bi-weekly 

……………………………………………………………………

“Let's make a baby,” Jo said as she walked over to him, offering up everything she had to him. 

“What?” Alex paused, truly looking over at her for the first time since he came into the loft.

“You said that you wanted a baby, and you would make an amazing dad,” Jo said, she knew that this was what he'd wanted for years now, and if that's what he wanted, she could be ready. “And that's what you're worried about, right, that I'm not all in? But I am. And I love you.”

The second her fingers touched his cheek, he pulled away. It was something he had never done before. All the times they had fought before, he had never pulled away from her touch, and him doing so now truly scared her.

“Are you gonna tell me why you won't marry me?” Alex asked again, staring deep into her eyes as if he could read the answer in her face. 

“I told you that I love you,” Jo said, but when she wouldn't answer him, he just turned away and went back to packing his things. “And that I'm not going anywhere. So isn't that enough? Can't that be enough for you?” 

“You know, I was with Mer this morning, and I was thinking, the two of us, we've been through hell. You know, all kinds of drama, crazy family stuff, we both almost died, losing people we love.” 

“No, you're not losing me,” Jo interrupted him, she wanted him to know that he wasn't going to lose her, and she didn't want to lose him.

“The point is, we grew up. Mer and I are grown up,” Alex said, turning around to look back at her. “We got through it. And hell is behind me. It's in my rearview mirror, and I'm not going back. I'm done.” 

“Alex, please,” Jo begged him, the last two words rang in her ear and broke her heart in an instant, but she held back the tears. It wasn’t the end, it couldn’t be.  

“I'm not, I'm not, some idiot kid anymore, Jo. I'm a man, and I'm done with games. I'm done with, with crazy. I'm done with losing. I'm done with drama. I don't care about your secrets and your excuses and your drama. You know, I've had that,” Alex said, and he was right. He shouldn't have to put up with her drama and her secrets, and she wished she could spare him from it all and tell the truth, but she just couldn't.

“Alex, if we could just,” Jo pleaded with him one last time.

“I just said I don't want to do this!” Alex screamed, as he raised his voice, she grew quiet. “I, I have never had one second of anything real my entire life. I want truth. I want, I want a wife and a house and a family! Amelia and, uh, Owen's wedding today, I want that!”  

“I can give you family and a home,” Jo pleaded, trying to get Alex to say. 

“But you won't be my wife?” Alex yelled as he stopped throwing the rest of his clothes in his bag to look at her. 

They had fought before, but not like this. He was so angry, but Jo wasn't frightened of him. She was, however, frightened to tell him the truth. She knew he deserved the truth, but she couldn't give it to him. Jo knew what Alex would do to Paul when he found out. She knew because she saw how mad he got when she had shown up on his doorstep after her fight with Myers. She knew that if Paul even looked at her wrong or dared to lay a finger on her, Alex would kill him and she couldn't live with herself if she caused that.

“I, I can't,” Jo whispered, her words coming out in a painful breath. 

She wanted to explain or at least give him a part of the truth. A part of her was protecting him from his own anger, but another part of her had held the secret for so long and, every time she tried to say it, it was like the words were trapped in her head.

Alex looked so disappointed as he shook his head before he grabbed his bags and left. It broke her, it broke her to see Alex walk away like that. Jo sat down on the bench, held the pillow to her chest as she cried. After everything she had done to get away from Paul, changing her name, leaving behind all of her friends, including the boy who is like a brother to her, and starting over in Seattle. He was still ruining her life and her relationship with Alex. 

She had thought about divorcing Paul for the past few months, ever since Alex proposed. She had contacted the lawyer that Arizona had used for her divorce case. Michelle had shown Jo her options and it all seemed easier than Jo realized. She had also dug up Jo’s medical history from her time with Paul. With the clear evidence of domestic abuse, Michelle said she could help Jo get an emergency protective order. It would go into effect right away, and then a domestic violence restraining order would protect her during the divorce proceedings and for the rest of her life. Michelle said that because of their separate lives, it would be an easy divorce. She had drafted the papers and sent them over to her, all they had to do was sign them. 

Jo didn't know if Paul would make this easy and sign the papers, or if he would drag it out for years, but she wanted to try. She tried to tell herself that with the restraining order and a lawyer on her side, she could do it. Jo wanted Alex to be by her side, but now Alex was gone, and he would be gone for good if she didn't divorce Paul. 

She went over to the liquor cabinet. Jo grabbed the bottle of the hardest rum they had and took a swig. It burned her throat as she drank it and Jo took as much as she could before she put the bottle down. If she was going to do this, she needed as much liquid courage as she could get. 

Jo made up her mind. She was going to divorce Paul.

She pulled out her phone and called Michelle. Michelle set up an appointment to meet with her the following day and said she would get the ball rolling. She would file the emergency restraining order and finalize the divorce papers that had been sitting in her drawer for months. Michelle assured her that she would have a restraining order against Paul at the end of the day and that she would be protected. Jo thanked her and quickly hung up. 

Jo had always kept tabs on Paul just in case. Which was good because she knew that he was in Seattle giving a talk at the University of Washington. The past few days, she had felt trapped in the loft because of it, as she feared he would see her when she was out and about or at the hospital, but now she could divorce him before the weekend was over and Alex would never know. Then she could say yes and marry Alex. They would be happy and Alex would never know. Paul would never ruin his life because of her. 

Jo took a deep breath as she looked down at her phone. She was drunk enough to think that this was a good idea and before she knew what she was doing, she had dialed Paul's number. But, of course, he didn't pick up, Paul didn't pick up any strange numbers. Hearing his voicemail was enough to send shivers down her spine, but the liquid courage had given her enough strength to speak and leave him a message. 

“Paul, it's me, it's Brooke. I want a divorce. I'm leaving you for good. I found another man and he's wonderful. He's better than you ever were and I want to marry him. So I want a divorce. I'm in Seattle. I work at Grey-Sloan Memorial and I live here. I live at 4196 Cale St. I know you're giving some stupid talk at U-Dub, and I’m sending you the divorce papers, and you are going to sign them. Because you ruined my life enough and you don't get to ruin it any more.”

Jo hung up and she smiled. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she felt free, freer than when she was driving away from him all those years ago. Finally, she felt truly free. 

Then Jo looked around the empty loft. Alex wasn't there, he had left, and she was all alone. Jo sighed, taking another swig of the bottle. Then she texted Stephanie to meet her at Emerald City Bar. Jo needed her friend and there was no way she could spend the rest of this day sober. 

……………………………………………………………………

“Hey, what are we drinking about?” Stephanie asked, appearing at the bar and sitting next to Jo.

“Alex is gone,” Jo said as she leaned against the bar. She was genuinely drunk now and was suddenly second guessing everything that she had done. “I had the love of my life, and I just, pssh, pushed him away, and now he's gone. And I’m doing it, I’m finally doing it, but I already lost Alex, he's gone.”

“Okay, this again,” Stephanie said as she took a swig of the beer the bartender gave her. “Let's not overstate this. He's just living at Meredith's.”

“Steph, you didn't see his face. He’s gone,” Jo said, looking over Stephanie and seeing her face, Jo suddenly realized what she had said. “Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He's not gone-gone. Kyle is gone-gone.”

“Making it worse,” Stephanie said as Jo leaned over to put her arm around Stephanie and lean her hand on her shoulder.

Stephanie shook her off and Jo decided to shut up before more words fell out of her mouth. In her endeavor to divorce Paul, it was like all her walls had finally come down. The truth slipped from her tongue like a bar of soap between her fingers. 

“He just kept asking me to marry him again and again,” Jo said as she picked at the peanut shells on the bar and tried to throw them into the bowl. “I just couldn't say nothing anymore, you know, so I just, I just said no.” 

“You could've said yes,” Stephanie said, taking a sip of her drink and shaking her head as if it was as easy as that.

“I should go home. I need to go home,” Jo said, reaching for the bag next to her and getting out. 

“What? No, you cannot drive home,” Stephanie said, getting up and chasing after her. She tried to grab the bag as Jo turned away from her.

“No, stupid, I'm gonna call. I'm looking for my phone to call a goober,” Jo said, looking through the bag and trying to find her phone. “I can't marry him. I want to, but I can't marry anyone.”

“Why's that?” Stephanie asked in her rude and sarcastic voice what made Jo realize what she had said.

“Just 'cause, none of your business,” Jo yelled, looking back at her.

“Okay,” Stephanie said, holding up her hands and leaning back.

“God, where is my. Oh, my God!” Jo paused, and she looked down at the strange purse in her hands. “This isn't even my purse.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes and took the purse from Jo's hands, replacing it with Jo's own bag. “Here, just wait, and I'll call us a cab and you can tell me all about why you can't marry Karev.”

“I can't marry him because I'm already married,” Jo said, the words slipping off her tongue. She guessed she was done hiding the truth.

……………………………………………………………………

“Okay, you can't just drop a bomb on me like that and then not say anything else,” Stephanie said as they walked into the loft, and Jo stumbled over to the couch before she caught Jo around her waist and led her over to the bed. “Okay, come on, time for bed.”

Stephanie left her on the bed and went to grab a cup of water. This was the last thing she wanted it to be doing, but Jo was her best friend, and they were both going through it right now. Cleary Jo had some deep dark secrets and Stephanie would be lying if she said she wasn’t immensely curious about it.

“I was living in my car. Did you know that I lived in my car?” Jo said, stumbling over, reaching out to put her hand on the table. It seemed Stephanie couldn't leave her for a second and she reached out to grab Jo again. 

“Yes, I know all about your street kid days,” Stephanie said, trying to grab ahold of her, but Jo pushed her away, and she was surprisingly strong for a drunk girl.

“And then I met him, and I wasn't living in my car anymore. Everybody loved him, I did,” Jo said, undoing the button to her jeans and pulling them down her legs.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie said, putting her hands on her waist and glaring at Jo. Everybody always joked about how drunk people acted like toddlers and Jo was certainly acting like a toddler right now. 

“I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go to bed,” Jo said as she stumbled over to the bed before apparently changing her mind and leaning against the post. “He never wanted anyone to stop loving him.”

Stephanie paused and sat down on the bench at the end of the bed, watching Jo for a moment. Jo had never mentioned anything about past boyfriends, much less a husband. She watched as the tears collected in Jo's eyes as she started to sob and she could sense why Jo had never mentioned him before.

“So if I, I bought the wrong something he would, he would hit me in my face or my stomach. Nobody knew that but me. So, so I ran. I had to make sure he would never find me.”

“And if you try to divorce him,” Stephanie trailed off, still trying to take in the news of Jo's abusive husband.

“I'm trying to divorce him, but he’ll never sign the papers, I'll never be free of him,” Jo said, putting both of her hands on Stephanie's shoulders and staring into her eyes. 

“Can’t you get a restraining order or something?” Stephanie asked, watching Jo pull away from her. “Does Alex know about any of this?” 

“No, no, Alex would try and protect me, but he can't. I have to do this on my own. He doesn't even know my real name,” Jo said as she stumbled over to the bed.

“You should tell him, he'll understand. Alex is a really good guy. Okay, so we're going to get naked now,” Stephanie sighed as Jo unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. “Just keep your panties on, okay.”

Jo didn't say anything else as Stephanie grabbed onto her waist and pulled her over to the bed. They both ended up stumbling and falling on the bed together and Jo laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Stephanie rolled her eyes and got up to grab the covers. As she looked up, Alex was standing in front of her in a rain soaked suit. 

“What's so funny? Alex asked as he smiled and came around to sit next to Jo on the bed.

“We fell,” Jo laughed, closing her eyes and pulling the covers over her head, still giggling from underneath them.

Alex looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and Stephanie just shrugged. “She's drunk off her ass.”

Alex nodded and put his hand over Jo's back, rubbing up and down as her giggles ended and she seemed to settle in. Stephanie got up and grabbed Jo's shirt from the floor before grabbing her jeans, tossing them both in the hamper.

“You came back,” Stephanie said, looking back at Alex.

“Yeah, well, Jo’s earned the benefit of the doubt, and whatever reason she has for not marrying me, I love her too much to let her go.”

Stephanie nodded, she didn't want to spill Jo’s secret, especially now that Alex was back, but she didn't want him to leave Jo again. She saw how messed up Jo was all night and Alex wasn't even dead. Stephanie loved her friend enough not to want to put her through that again. 

“She has a good reason for not marrying you. I won't tell you what it is, that's her job, but it's a good reason, and she’s trying to make it right,” Stephanie said as she folded her hands together.

“Thank you,” Alex said, nodding at her before he looked back at Jo and leaned down to kiss a little bit of her head that was still peeking out from under the covers. 

Stephanie wobbled as she took another step towards the door, realizing how drunk she was now that she didn't have Jo’s drunkenness to compare her sobriety to. 

“Do you want to crash here?” Alex offered, taking off his wet jacket and tie. “I'm going to hop in the shower, but I'll take the couch if you want to take the bed.”

“Sure,” Stephanie said, dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes.

She had slept over at the loft enough times with Jo that this was normal. They would have a girl's night and fall asleep on the bed, and Alex would come in and sleep on the couch. In the morning, he’d make them a hangover cure and waffles and Stephanie loved those waffles. Alex hung up his wet suit and went to take a shower and Stephanie crawled into bed. Jo would still giggle occasionally, but eventually, they both fell asleep.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo woke up to the sound of someone banging on the door to the loft. She rolled over to lay on her back and saw Stephanie sleeping soundly beside her. Her best friend had always slept like a log and she would sleep through her alarm if she was tired enough. Jo got up before she went to the hamper and pulled on her shirt. 

“Alright, Alex I’m coming,” Jo said as the banging continued, despite how late it was she figured Alex had forgotten something. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, but Alex wasn't standing on the other side. 

“Hello, Brooke.”

#jo wilson #alex karev #stephanie edwards #jolex #grey's anatomy #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #paul stadler #jolex fanfic #my work #my writing #my fanfiction #OSFaTSB

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 12)

A/n: I would like to apologize for not marking warnings on each part like I should have been. I get too excited to post and skip over them on accident. I’ll do my best to add them from here on! Also, I was adding the warnings as I wrote but then they didn’t save so I tried to remember them as best I could. If I forgot anything, I sincerely apologize.

Warnings: Recounting past trauma (physical abuse, homophobia), explicit talk of death, badly handling others’ trauma, light smut (foreplay: slapping, choking, degradation, daddy kink, handcuff restraining, brat/dom dynamic, punishing, teasing, masterbation)

Word Count: 5200+

MASTERLIST

The air was so thick with tension that a knife could have cut through it. No matter how much Harley was fighting his instincts to lounge and be himself - the self Jeremiah was used to, at the very least - he felt like he had to be the self he used to be. The one Bruce was expecting. Jeremiah knew Harley was trying too hard, and Jeremiah was far too easy to read - which meant that Bruce knew too. So Harley sat there trying to behave and Bruce sat there brimming with suspicion and pain and hesitation and Jeremiah sat between the two boys, wishing this had never happened and he could just escape the two brothers who seemed seconds from either running or fighting.

Echo, as if sent from God, walked into the room with a pitcher of water. They were at Jeremiah's instead of Wayne manor as Harley had absolutely no intention of being back there or anywhere near Alfred. The butler was far too good at accepting change, which meant that the man might pick up on the fact that Harley was no longer Y/n and the whole thing would fall apart. Honestly, it seemed like so much work. Harley wasn't sure why this plan was so important but Jerome was feeding off of it so Harley did it anyway because he'd said he would. If this is where Jerome lead, Harley would follow.

"So," Echo cut into the silence as she walked around pouring drinks. "How is everyone this evening?"

Harley smiled at her, amused. She was poorly hiding a sort of awkward expression that was dashed with a little humor. She was mocking them in her head; Harley could almost hear what she was thinking. A bunch of dumb boys sitting around a table unable to swallow their pride. Idiots. "Oh you know," Harley mumbled casually, shrugging. "Indulging." He motioned to his food but his words were obviously directed at the ambiance.

"Having a good time?" Echo asked.

"Not at all," Harley immediately answered with the same casual, chipper tone. Jeremiah choked on his drink as he laughed at the exchange. The humor delivered saltiness in Harley's voice and the passive aggressive mocking in Echo's had always been an exchange that could make Jeremiah chuckle at least a little. Echo and Harley were very good at banter and it lightened the mood significantly every time they went at it. After all, it was just in good fun. Bruce seemed to relax as a smile curled everyone else's lips. "So... Harley." His lips seemed to want to reject the name.

Harley's smile dropped. Hearing Bruce call him that made him uncomfortable. Not just because he was nervous about Bruce not calling him Y/n as he had all up until this point but because he had cut Bruce out of this new life very purposefully and now... he was in it anyway. "Yes?"

Echo sighed and left the room as she sensed Harley jerk back, even with her attempt to loosen everyone up. Jeremiah focused on his food. Bruce looked at Harley but Harley did not look back, instead choosing to stare at the door Echo had gone through. "Why Harley?"

That was an easy question. "When I was in Arkham, a few of the guards used to beat the shit out of me every single day to try and convince me to be straight." Harley looked Bruce in the eye when he said this, completely calm. He had long since gotten over it. "They even put me in isolation to keep me away from people who might protect me or care about me."

"Jerome." Bruce didn't form it like a question.

Harley answered anyway. "Yes. But see this is a smaller world than everyone thought and my therapist, Harleen Quinzel, became my friend instead. She's like me, but for girls." Bruce nodded, accepting that. "They couldn't kill me without having to mark me as a loss. That and they'd have lost their punching bag. To teach me a lesson, they killed her. And then made sure the TV that was never supposed to be on the news would be on the news, on just the channel and at just the time that would allow me to see her bloody, bruised, cold, dead body strewn out for the public to see. And no one gave a single shit because no crimes in Gotham get solved unless someone important is involved. And even then- well, you know first hand."

Bruce's expression grew very dark. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Harley purred, still eating as if he was talking about the weather.

Jeremiah has stopped eating. "People are really like that?" His voice was small and his eyes moved to Bruce, his hands tightening around his silverware as if picturing Bruce's face cold and dead and staring at him through a TV. Bruce felt his eyes and looked back to Jeremiah, but the red head averted his gaze to Harley instead. "I mean, people really act like that just because of... how someone loves?"

Harley nodded, swallowing the food in his mouth. It tasted like sand but he kept eating it. It made him feel powerful to while the others in the room had forgotten their food altogether. Although... Perhaps he hadn't chewed it as well as he thought because it felt as if it had gotten stuck somewhere along the way. A thick lump had lodged for a second and a sick feeling had settled in the bottom of his stomach. He hadn't thought about that image in so long... the daily bearings and the isolation and the one ray of light he'd gotten being extinguished and displayed because he had dared to be himself and therefore allowed her to do the same. Because they were different than how most people were.

"Do you know who did it?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah." That didn't seem to be the answer Bruce was expecting. "This isn't great table conversation," Harley eased, changing the subject. "But that is why I go by Harley. Do you like it?"

Bruce shrugged. "Do you still go by Wayne?"

Internally, Harley sighed. "Harley Quinn."

At that Bruce nodded. "You're not coming back are you?"

Harley laughed dryly. "You're not very good at casual, light conversation are you Brucey?"

"Don't call me that," Bruce snapped, body going stiff.

Rolling his eyes, Harley sat back in his seat. "Why not?" It came out harsher than Harley had meant it.

Meeting hostility with hostility, Bruce got angry as well. "Because that's what Jerome called me, and after how many times he tried to kill me it's not a name I like."

"Get over it," Harley sneered. "It's just a name and we're in Gotham. Trauma is kind of a part of life here. Adapt or get trampled."

Bruce jerked back. "Get over it? Since when are you...?" He trailed off, as if hesitating, before his face set and he finished his sentence with a much harder tone. "Like Jerome."

Harley felt his knuckles turn white. "Stop saying that like it's a bad thing." "It is!" Bruce hissed.

Harley shot to his feet, dropping his silverware on the table. Jeremiah flinched but Harley didn't notice. Bruce did. "Look, Jerome is fucked up and dark and broken. He doesn't have a grip on reality or know how to human because he wasn't fucking treated like one. He killed people. He was crazy and insane and unhinged and dangerous. Yeah! You know what else he was? He was understanding and accepting. He got why people lived their lives differently than he did and didn't really judge anyone, ever. He thought they were boring and chose to live differently, sure, but he lived to make people laugh and have fun. Maybe his sense of fun was fucked up, but he genuinely just wanted people to laugh along with him for once. He didn't hide who he really was. He wasn't ashamed. He didn't shun me and shove me in a corner and try to change me. He accepted who I was. He CELEBRATED me. I'd rather be with him than at this stupid fucking dinner or anywhere near you because I'm not some poor gay boy who needs saving. I'm strong and I matter and I FINALLY love myself, and you won't ever take that away from me because you see self respect and see Jerome because no one taught you that you are more important than everyone else. I refuse to sit here and let you try and turn me into some pathetic whiny brooding mess who's never happy because my priorities are fucked up. I won't be you. That isn't my goal anymore."

The room was dead quiet. For a long time, no one said anything. The brothers just stared each other down until Bruce shook his head. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

Jeremiah pinched the bridge of his nose. "You guys are idiots." The other two in the room looked at the red head with shock. "My brother is dead, and honest to god it's a relief that he is. He's out of my life and I'm safe from him. I never had the chance to have a real relationship with him. I used to read the newspaper about your family and think that you guys were some kind of dream. Two brothers that loved each other despite everything and parents that were like... actually good people on any level." He sighed. "Obviously I was wrong. You're too busy trying to make him how he used to be." This he directed at Bruce. "And you're too busy hurting and bottling up your emotions and pushing everyone away to let anyone care about you or see the real you." This was for Harley. Jeremiah didn't stop when both other boys went to speak though. "Just shut up and make this work because you guys are the only true family you each have left. Harley, you grew up and I have to say you wear your changes very well. You're happier and sturdier and if someone isn't happy about that then they're insane. Right, Bruce?"

The Wayne boy hesitated before giving in. "Yeah. I am happy for you. I should have started with that. I just... I'm scared for you."

"Why?" Harley demanded, exasperated.

"Because I don't want you to become Jerome. I don't want you to end up like that. I don't want you to be some criminal, when you used to be the best person I knew. You said your life goal used to be being like me? No. I wanted so much to be like you. You couldn't speak about a huge part of you, but you accepted it with the knowledge no one else ever would. I refused to even look at the fact that I'm attracted to guys until you and Jerome got together and then..." his eyes shot to Jeremiah and then back. "Things happened and- and you were always so bright and happy and free. Like a bird in flight or- something." He shook his head. "You were inspiring, Y/n. Seeing you like this... it looks like you've been broken. And I just want to bring back that light you had before. When you seemed so much happier."

"I'm not broken." Harley looked at the boy who was supposed to be his brother. The boy who used to be his best friend before one lie after another had pulled them further and further apart until they were on completely opposite sides. Secrets had torn their relationship up into so many little bits it could never be repaired. They were just too different now. "I'm not lost or struggling. I'm just not... sitting there and pretending all the bad things aren't happening. The friends I have now actually like and respect me as a person, not just because I'm Y/n Wayne. I'm myself, proudly, and I wear my experiences as a reminder of what I can endure. Things hurt less. What you see isn't some poor boy waiting to be saved. It's darkness. And maybe that scares you, because you're used to hiding your darkness. But darkness, Bruce, isn't a bad thing. Darkness is what makes us who we are. Like everything it can be used as a weapon, but Darkness itself isn't dangerous. What you do with it is."

Bruce considered that for a long time. "That... is a good point."

Jeremiah released a breath. "So... truce?" The boys looked at each other before shrugging. Harley sat back down. Jeremiah seemed pleased. "Okay, now lets talk about something a little more pleasant."

"So you mean literally anything other than what any of us have been up to recently?" Harley sassed. Jeremiah shot him a look. "Okay fine whatever." He searched for some light conversation. "So you guys are like boyfriends now or what?"

That seemed to make Bruce and Jeremiah both blush and the air in the room cleared significantly. Harley pulled off being cheery and invested as he teased and prodded and asked questions and engaged. Things almost seemed like they used to be when Bruce and Y/n would sit with their parents and Bruce mentioned a girl and Y/n would go off about how he was going to be the best man or the world would surely end... but Harley wasn't Y/n and Jeremiah wasn't their parents. This wasn't Wayne Manor and as good of a server as Echo was, she wasn't a butler. She wasn't Alfred.

Under the light tone, Harley formed a plan. A plan he carried out as he and Bruce began to hang out more and more as time passed that night and stretched for a while. Jerome became nocturnal in favor of being awake when Harley finally returned at home. The boys would spend some time together and then sleep and then Harley would wake up and go out and spend time with Bruce and Jeremiah again. Slowly the time with the other boys began to cut into Harley's time with Jerome and both he and Harley were getting restless. They'd begun arguing about it.

"Stay in tonight," Jerome whined.

"Bruce wants me to come back to Wayne manor tonight." Harley sighed, an odd expression on his face. "I've finally earned his trust and am getting along with him - as much as it pains me. I think Jeremiah is talking to him when I'm not around, convincing him to behave and respect my boundaries. He calls me Harley and has stopped expecting me to be the person I used to be. I don't know, I think he'll be enough to convince Alfred though I might have to try a tad harder." He rubbed his forehead. "Soon I'm sure I'll be chummy with them again and that'll definitely lead to interacting with all of Bruce's friends - which will be a whole other adventure of its own."

Jerome huffed. "If you're going back to Wayne manor, won't Bruce want you to move back in?"

The thought had occurred to Harley if he was being honest. Where did he draw the line in being buddy buddy with his brother again? Where did he stop things? How far did Jerome want him to go? "Probably," Harley voiced, shrugging. There was a long pause. Jerome was more guarded than he usually was and it set Harley on edge. When the red head did speak, it was in a dangerously quiet tone. "Would you go?"

"W- would you want me to?" Harley was distracted by the way Jerome's Adam's Apple moved when he swallowed.

Jerome hummed. "So this is still about what I want?"

That made Harley defensive. "You think I'm dealing with my arrogant brother because I want to?" It had a biting edge to it.

"And what about my brother?" Jerome pushed.

Now Harley was confused. "Jerome I did all of this for you. To convince them you were dead so you'd be free to have some free time and then make your grand entrance whenever you wanted to. I did this because you asked me to." Jerome rolled his eyes. "You've been gone a lot. You come home... lighter. You enjoy your time with them."

"I'm sorry, you WANT me to come home miserable?" Harley sneered, his hands coiling into fists.

Jerome's eyes darkened. Harley realized what was happening. Before he could react, Jerome's hand shot out, fingers curling around Harley's throat. Jerome pressed his boyfriend against the closest wall, his face close and words sharp like knives. "You're getting angry again. Talking to me like that, as if I'm one of our dumb brothers or that blonde idiot Jeremiah carries around. You might have been gone for a while now, but SURELY not long enough to have forgotten to respect me."

Harley gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Jerome's grip wasn't dangerous but it could go that way if Harley wasn't careful. Jerome only ever got like this when he was frustrated. Usually when he was bored and wanted to do something other than sit around. To be fair, he was cooped up which was something he HATED to be. He hated feeling trapped. And on top of that Harley had been spending less and less time around the place. It was a miracle the redhead had behaved so long. Harley had spent more nights with Jeremiah, talking to Bruce so late into the night and fake catching up and playing nice that it was just easier for them both stay at Jeremiah's. Alfred had even gotten used to a simple text from Bruce letting the older man know where he was and that he was safe. If Bruce wasn't home by 10pm Alfred had come to expect that he wouldn't be back at all. It had become a sort of habit.

Perhaps Harley had been a tad neglectful.

He sighed, letting his guard down and releasing all the tension he'd gained from being around Bruce. Jerome didn't deserve this. "I'm sorry, you're right." Jerome didn't let up. "Oh so you shoot me puppy dog eyes and say sorry and that's supposed to be it?" Harley could feel his insides warming as Jerome grew closer, the air in the room slowly becoming infected with sexual tension. The sudden mood change was hard for Y/n to switch gears to, even though he was immediately eager. "You've forgotten who you belong to."

"I-"

Jerome's hand tightened on Harley's throat, cutting off any attempt to speak. "What was that?" Harley coughed a little as the initial shock took him off guard. His eyes fluttered but he could still breathe which is what mattered. "Come on, Harley. Come on, Y/n." Harley jerked at the name. "Is that what you want me to call you? Is that who you want to be?"

Harley wasn't dealing with that shit. His body jerked, arms wrapping around Jerome. He pulled hard, twisting to turn Jerome around so he'd have to let Harley go, or risk hurting his arm. As predicted, Jerome let go. Harley twisted their bodies with extreme force, pushing Jerome's face into the wall aggressively. "What the fuck did you call me?" He growled. The words were raw from his throat being a little sore. It made Jerome smile. "Answer me. Now." Harley let his free hand thread into Jerome's hair. He pulled, the red head squirming underneath him as it began to hurt. "I said, now."

"I called you Y/n," Jerome answered softly. His tone was half reluctance and half defiance. He didn't want to answer Harley like he'd been told to, but saying the name again did give him power.

Harley leaned back, pulling Jerome away from the wall just by his hair. He dragged him over to the bed. "Kneel. Now." Jerome was giggling as Y/n hurt him, getting off on the pain. "NOW, Valeska!" Jerome smirked, taking his precious time with following the order. When he was down, Y/n maneuvered his face into the bed. "Stay there. If you move, I will know and you will be punished. I will be back in a moment." He left Jerome there, ducking out of the bedroom to the trunk in the bathroom, shoved in the closet. He opened it, pushing around some things they'd collected in their time together. This was the stuff they used when things got more kinky. Handcuffs Jerome had gotten from cops even before he and Y/n were together. Rope from a construction sight. Some things were specifically from sex stores - stolen of course.

Ignoring most of it, Harley grabbed the handcuffs and went back into the room. He returned to see Jerome had indeed moved. In fact he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. He was smirking at Harley, a dare in his eyes. The red head seemed to be expecting Harley to lose his shit, but Harley didn't. Instead, he got very still, thinking. That seemed to actually make Jerome nervous.

Slipping the handcuffs into his back pocket, Harley slowly approached Jerome. His eyes cut into Jerome's soul, his jaw so tightly shut that Jerome shivered. "What, you think you're going to look at me and-?"

Jerome didn't get to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, unexpectedly, Harley backhanded Jerome, causing the sitting boy's head to snap to the side. The red head was shocked, but found his stomach twisting with the familiar sensation of arousal. This wasn't like when he was a kid. Harley was calm and controlled - even his hit was direct. There was a safety in the way that Harley controlled himself. Jerome didn't fear him. It left room to enjoy what was happening. Harley gripped Jerome's jaw, bringing the red head's brown eyes around to meet his. "What did I say when I left the room, Jerome?" Harley not using a pet name in a sexual situation made Jerome shift nervously. Was Harley actually mad? "You told me not to move."

Harley released a breath, smirking as he got turned on just by getting Jerome to answer his question without being pushed. When Jerome was being bratty, he refused Harley any amount of control. So when he let up even the smallest amount, it never failed to excite Harley. "And what did you do?" Unwilling to let Harley win twice in a row, Jerome shrugged. Harley slapped him again. The red head blinked, breathing sharply outward as he felt the stinging on his face. "I moved."

A hum came from Harley as he stood, crossing his arms. "You know I had to punish you for using the wrong name, but it was going to be pretty light. Now..." Jerome shivered under that look - like Harley was trying to figure just how to kill him. "I'm going to take your clothes off Jerome. If you fight me, you'll get immediate punishment do you understand?" Jerome nodded. Harley rose an eyebrow.

"Yes, Daddy."

That seemed to please Harley. He stopped glaring at least. First Harley removed Jerome's shirt. Then he gently nudged Jerome, and the redhead followed the flow and laid back on the bed. Harley then removed his pants, and his socks one at a time. Slowly. Jerome felt himself get antsy. "Do you want something, baby?" Harley asked evenly.

"I'm fine," Jerome responded.

Unfortunately for him, his erection gave him away. "You don't want me to do... anything?" Harley asked again, pausing to look at Jerome very carefully.

The redhead looked back for a long time, a battle happening between the two men. Jerome lost. "Jesus Christ Harley, touch me."

That got Harley to smile. "Ask nicely J, or I'm going to have to punish you." Jerome went to glare but Harley reached up, threading his fingers through Jerome's hair and pulling roughly. "Listen here bitch, I'm not here to mess around. You're going to listen to me or you're going to regret it, understand?" They had come a long way since having sex in a cell and trying to keep quiet. Back then, Harley had fumbled and blushed a lot and been overwhelmed very easily. Back then, Jerome would stretch out, getting comfortable as he bossed Harley around - a true power bottom. Or, he would top, and then he'd get very soft and quiet and affectionate... Well, compared to how he usually was when he was impossible to please and degrading to an extent that had driven Harley insane.

Now adays, things were different. There was a huge power play between the two men constantly, and endlessly pushing buttons. What would often happen was that Harley would be a bit of a brat but otherwise let Jerome blow off steam, unless it was a day that Jerome desperately wanted Harley to "take hold and ruin" him. A direct quote from the ginger. On those days, Jerome did what he did best: he kept talking. He said all the things he knew would piss off Harley the most, like calling him by his old name. He would make Harley snap and then Harley would retaliate exactly how he wanted.

Not today.

"Fuck, you're such a baby," Jerome grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm bored with you playing daddy, I already know all your moves and we both know that you're just going to give me what I want anyways. You're a soft top, Sweetheart." He was smirking, proudly flaunting the power he usually had over Harley.

Today though, Jerome had pushed him too much. After all the shit he'd gone through with Jeremiah and Bruce, hearing Jerome call him Y/n had pushed him in a way that had sent him over the edge. And if he was being honest, he had his own frustrations. He wanted to run free as much as Jerome did and break things and scream as loudly as he wanted and sock his stupid brother in his face any time he dare even mention Jerome's name in Harley's presence. He was tired of behaving. He was tired of feeling like some toy. He was tired of being used. He was really, REALLY fucking tired of being ignored, too.

Harley's smile was dangerous. Jerome looked at him, unsure of what was going through the other boy's head. "You know, you have a little too much attitude for someone who's currently desperate for me to touch him. You want something from me? You need to learn some respect." Harley reached over, grabbing Jerome's wrist and forcing it toward the top of the bed. It happened so fast that only when Harley had used one cuff to get Jerome's right hand, and then had threaded the second cuff through the bars at the head of the bed, did Jerome react.

"HEY!"

At the outburst, Harley didn't hesitate to slap Jerome again. The redhead gasped, body shivering. He would absolutely never admit it, but this kind of aggression had always turned him on, when he was comfortable with the person. He'd wanted someone to be like this with him for ages, but not many people were willing to go far enough to please Jerome Valeska. By the way Harley was looking at him right now, this time might be different.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. Granted, I didn't tell you to shut up either so I'll be forgiving, but if you shout at me one more time you will regret it." He gripped Jerome's other wrist, cuffing that as well. Now Jerome's hands were over his head, trapped by the cuffs and the bar. "If you want to say something, I want you to address me first. I will allow you to continue then. Or I will not." Jerome hesitated, then nodded, intrigued by this side of Harley even he had not the pleasure of exploring before.

What came next surprised Jerome. Harley didn't take him right there, rough and hot. He didn't move slowly around and tease until Jerome wa a desperate mess of begs and whimpers. Harley didn't touch him at all. In fact, he moved off of the bed completely. He left the room even, returning a moment with a chair. Only then did he undo his own clothes, only lowering his pants enough to allow himself access his erection. He didn't even pull his pants off all the way! Jerome felt completely exposed, tied up and naked for viewing pleasure, when Harley was so far away and completely dressed.

To Jerome's intense frustration, Harley sat down on the chair and began stroking himself, eyes on Jerome. Harley's eyes were wide and lust blown, his tongue flicking out every once in a while to wet his lips. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back just a little as a small moan came from him.

Jerome shifted. He was getting uncomfortable with how long he'd been hard without being touched, and watching Harley be like this was not helping. Jerome really liked to be involved in sexual acts. He had gotten rather pouty anytime Harley was caught masterbating, and there had been an unspoken rule that Harley didn't really restrain Jerome for stuff like this. If Harley wanted to be touched, Jerome would touch him. They both preferred it that way. This was ridiculous, and frankly rude. Jerome wasn't going to give Harley the upper hand. This was a low blow and he wasn't going to let Harley get away with it.

As Harley continued though, getting more into it and completely ignoring Jerome, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut. Trying to play it off like he didn't care as much as he did, Jerome finally spoke up. It had seemed an eternity for him, but it had actually only been a few seconds and Harley had to swallow his smile to not give himself away. "Okay Harley, very funny. Let me touch you. I'm sorry I called you the other name. You know I can do this better than you can. Let me out." When Harley continued to ignore Jerome, the cuffed ginger raised his voice. "LET ME OUT!"

"Why?" Harley growled, eyes finally on Jerome again. "Because you told me to? Because you asked me to?" He stood, pulling his pants up again. "I'm not your little bitch Jerome, you're mine. You want to kill someone? Fine. You want to steal or break something? Fine! But you don't call me by that name. You don't mess with me, because I'm all you got. If you want me to leave, you ask like a big kid."

Jerome's lips twitched, slowly rising into a smile. "Are you actually mad at me?"

Harley grinned. "No, not really." They both cracked up, losing it for a few extended seconds. Then Harley cut off and Jerome faded into quiet, soft chuckles as Harley began to speak. "I respect you, J. My little joker." He moved towards the bed, caressing Jerome's cheek. The ginger leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. He fed off of the contact, as if it was a drug or he was starving and the gesture fed him. Harley smiled softly. "You gotta respect me too. You don't have to piss me off to get me to break you, joker. All you have to do is ask me nicely, like a good boy. Do all the bad things you want. But not to me."

A sigh escaped Jerome, and then he finally gave in. "If I behave will you let me out? I want you to touch me. Please."

That pleased Harley. "That's what I wanted to hear." He leaned back a little, eyes scanning Jerome's exposed body. "I will let you out. And then it's time to play for real." His eyes glinted with a darkness that made Jerome jerk in expectation. Needless to say, Harley didn't disappoint.

-

Story Tags: @wanna-plan-world-domination​

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x male reader #jerome velaska imagine #gotham #male reader #cameron monaghan #joker #joker x reader #joker imagine #joker x male reader #gotham x male reader #gothem imagine #gotham x reader #cameron monaghan x male reader #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #valeska twins #valeska twins imagine #valeska twins x reader #valeska twins x male reader

[side-shawty]

Unsteady

Title: Unsteady

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: “Teen batsis reader x batfam that has a Boyfriend that cheats on her? (the reader is older then damian but younger then tim or she just could be 14/15) You have awesome writing i really like it”

Pairing(s): Batfamily x sister!reader

Requested? YES by Anon

Bruce adopted you almost around the same time Tim came into the fold but you were two years younger than him. It was a few years after that that you had met your boyfriend, Will. The fact that you and Tim were close and age and Damian was younger never stopped the fact that all four of your brothers were and always would be extremely overprotective of you.

But that didn't change the fact that you couldn't stop your self from being utterly in love with Will since middle school and when he asked you to be his girlfriend after freshman year you were over the moon with happiness.

You had been together for almost a year after months of getting your father and brothers to promise not to threaten to kill him. You had finally introduced them all over dinner.

Threats were subtle but nothing too insane and Will was charming enough to win them over and you remember not being able to stop smiling as the conversation flowed easily.

But that was months ago.

And now you were walking from Will’s house after Alfred had just dropped you off with tears streaming down your face.

You pulled up your hood and hid your face from prying eyes and paparazzi. All you had to do was get to Jason’s safe house before you actually broke down.

But that thirty-minute walk would give you time to think about finding him shirtless on the couch with some brunette from your class. It would leave you thinking about how tight he held onto her as they kissed.

How loud your heart sounded as it broke in your chest.

How he didn’t even chase after you as you ran from that place at full speed.

You didn’t want to stay there, you had been trained and raised by some of the deadliest and most emotionally stunted people on the planet. So there wasn’t much restraining you from killing them.

20 minutes to Jason’s now.

You thought about everything. Every time he kissed you or hugged you. Every time he made you feel better when you were riddled with insecurities.

You thought about how he probably didn’t even care.

The first thing that drew you to him was that he was so different. He didn’t look at you as a prize to be won because you were “Bruce Wayne’s daughter” nor did he fetishize the fact that you were a beautiful young black woman. He saw you as a girl he really liked and wanted to get to know better.

He made your heart soar, you fantasized about telling your kids that your first was love was your last. But that was a pipe dream. You swiped at your eyes and felt a drop of rain land on your hand.

You hastened your steps. Less than 10 minutes to Jason’s now.

You didn’t really want to see your brother right now, you didn’t want to see anyone. That's why you didn’t call Alfred to get you or even hail a taxi to the manor. You just wanted to be alone and you hoped Jason wouldn’t be home.

By the time you stepped foot into the safe house, your clothes were soaked through. You toweled dry and thanked your lucky stars that Jason wasn’t here as you stole basketball shorts and a hoodie from his closet.

You decide to hole up in his room because his bed was more comfortable than the couch. You tucked yourself under the covers and finally let yourself cry until you drifted into unconsciousness.

———

The sound of the front door opening was the first thing that pulled you from your sleep. The second was the voices that quickly followed which made you sit up faster than your tired mind could comprehend.

“Her bag is here. Maybe she got caught in the rain,” You heard Tim say.

“She wasn’t caught in the rain, idiot, Alfred drove her,” Damian replied and you could picture them glaring at each other.

“Then why would she be here?” You heard Dick ask and suddenly everything that happened came rushing back and you forced yourself to hold in a sob as tears filled your eyes once again.

“Don’t know,” Jason replied, “She’s probably in my room.”

And with that, you heard the footsteps of your brothers as they headed closer to you.

Jason saw you first, hunched over with a hand to your mouth as you wept silently. They were all at your side in an instant, and that’s when you realized your father’s presence as he took a seat at the foot of the bed.

Surprisingly, he was the first to speak, “What happened, Y/N?” He asked in a voice so soft that all you wanted to do was cry harder.

You took a second to compose yourself as your brothers settled into their places, two on each side like bodyguards.

“Will,” you said and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as his name physically pained you to say.

Dick wrapped an arm around your shoulders before you continued.

“I went over to surprise him after Alfred and I made cookies and he was with a girl,” you told them leaning into your brother's side.

They were all silent for a beat.

“I’ll kill him,” Damian said.

“Right behind you,” Jason added pulling a gun from god knows where and cocking it. They both moved to stand.

Dick and Tim were both stunned into silence.

“No. No one’s killing anyone,” Your father said, standing commandingly at his full height. “Let me talk to your sister for a second,” he told them and they moved after giving you some kind of reassurance.

Before they were out the door Tim was asking Jason if he had a spare laptop here and Damian was asking about weapons. After the doors quiet click, your father moved to take Dick’s place beside you and wiped your tears with his thumbs before pulling you into a hug.

You cried hard into his shirt as he rubbed your back allowing you to let everything out. When you were finished he handed you a handkerchief and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you began to wipe at your face.

“Way to show your age Dad,” you said, voice raspy.

He shrugged and gave you a small smirk, “Comes in handy from time to time.”

“You got that right,” you said and began tracing his embroidered initials with your finger.

“Feeling a little better?” He asked and you only nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t understand,” you began, looking at him with glassy eyes, “Am I not enough?”

You’re more than enough Y/N/N. But the truth is men are idiots, no matter what age. One day he’s going to look back and realize that losing you was the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life.

“And please don’t forget that you’re not alone in this. I know it probably felt like that at first which is why you came here but your brothers, Alfred, and I, we’re right here,” He said and you nodded.

“Thanks Dad,” you told him and he pulled you in for another hug.

After your heart to heart, the two of you joined your brothers in the living room and they spent the next hour cheering you up before heading home.

You watched movies in the living room and were fast asleep with your father on the couch before you even knew it.

Once they noticed the two of you were out for the night your brothers shared a look and headed for the Batcave.

———

“We’re doing this right?” Tim asked already suited and ready to go.

“Hell yeah,” Jason replied pulling his mask down.

“He deserves it and more,” Damian said, slipping on his boots.

Dick sighed, he was only participating so that they wouldn’t actually kill the kid.

The four of them were dressed in all black save for the terrifying masks that covered their faces. Since their father and sister both had them swear not to physically harm him they would mess with his mind instead.

They moved silently by rooftop and slipped into Will’s room undetected as the boy slept soundly.

Asshole.

They thought collectively before Jason threw a kunai into the headboard beside his pillow. He jumped awake almost instantly. They activated their voice modulators.

“What the hell is going on?!” He exclaimed and Damian subtly dropped a smoke bomb, letting the room fill eerily in a white cloud.

Tim moved quickly as lightening to put a hand over his mouth to silence him and placed a finger on the nonexisting lips of his blank doll mask.

“You will listen and nothing more,” Jason began voice deep. “We are the Spirits of Wayne Manor,” he continued as Tim stood back up, “You have hurt a most precocious resident and if you step foot on the residence again you will not make it out alive.”

He finished and the terror in Will’s eyes was just what Jason was after.

“You will make amends with the girl and then never darken her day with your presence again. Understood?” Damian said and Will nodded so fast they thought os head would fly off.

Tim stepped back and Dick approached him and blew sleep powder in the boy's face. He as asleep again before his head hit the pillow. Dick pulled the kunai out of the headboard and they all made a hasty exit as the smoke dissipated.

They stood on the roof of the building directly across from Will’s and watched as he woke up not 30 minutes later, clearly shaken but writing off whatever he just experienced as a dream.

“Mission accomplished,” Jason said before they all disappeared into the night.

#batfamily #dc comics #dc imagine #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batsis #batsis!reader #dick grayson x sister!reader #jason todd x sister!reader #tim drake x sister!reader #damian wayne x sister!reader

[angelrider13]

A Sea of Lotus Flowers: Leviathan Extra

I finally finished it!!!

So I meant to have this up before the holidays were over - obviously that didn’t happen - and then real life hit that crazy post-holiday rush and I didn’t have the spoons to finish this out, but it is done!!!!

Admittedly, I got a little carried away with this one. I started and was like ‘it’ll be a short oneshot, maybe ~2,000 words. Well here we are, 12,482 words later.

This is a reply to @hamelin-born‘s reply to my post from a while back (I’m sorry it took so long!!!!) and I saw your post the other day about needing a pick me up, so I hope this makes your day better. Technically not canon in this verse - it’s 100% indulgent and I had fun with it and I guess it could be canon if you want it to be.

A little clunky in some places because I didn’t edit this and I kinda half-assed proofreading so forgive me any errors!!!

Lan Wangji resists the urge to step between Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin as they argue. He’s come to understand that arguing is largely how these two communicate, but that does nothing to change the fact that his hand twitches toward his sword every time Jiang Wanyin says something biting or Wei Ying flinches.

He’s been lectured by multiple people, both subtly and blatantly, that their relationship has nothing to do with him. As a third party, it is not his right to interfere. He may advise and support, but he has no say in whether or not the relationship exists. He is, contrary to what these people lecturing him seem to think, aware of this. If Wei Ying wishes to have a relationship with the man he still considers his brother, then who is Lan Wangji to stop him?

He would never.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to allow Wei Ying to face the man alone.

Despite Wei Ying’s many assurances, he does not trust Jiang Wanyin with Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin cast him aside before, hurt him before, and Lan Wangji has seen no evidence that he would not be willing to do so again.

So he watches.

It helps that their reason for being here this time is the Discussion Conference. It means they are less likely to be thrown into the lake – though he knows that such a small reason will not even register to Madame Jiang. Still, it means that Jiang Wanyin doesn’t have the authority to throw him out should something happen. As much as he detests political maneuvering, he will concede that sometimes it has its uses.

Wei Ying is punching Jiang Wanyin’s arm as he laughs. Lan Wangji can’t stop his twitch when Jiang Wanyin shoves him in turn, scowling as he opens his mouth to say something Lan Wangji is sure he will disagree with on principle when the Sect Leader’s eyes catch on something over Wei Ying’s shoulder. His face shades through confusion to alarm to horror in the span of a second before he’s shoving past them.

Wei Ying blinks, turning after him, “Hey, Jiang Chen – ”

But he cuts off, eyes widening as he sucks in a sharp breath and Lan Wangji turns just in time to see Lan Yun shoving a glowing array against Madame Jiang’s chest.

There’s a single moment where everything is completely still.

And then Madame Jiang drops like a stone.

The world explodes into motion.

Jaing Wanyin is screaming, Lan Yun looks stunned, and Madame Jiang is so horrifically still where she lays collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“What did you do?!” Jiang Wanyin roars as Jiang disciples converge on Lan Yun.

“I – I didn’t – it wasn’t – ” Lan Yun stutters out as his arms are grabbed and his swords taken. “It wasn’t supposed to do that!”

“And what was it supposed to do?” Sect Leader Jiang grits out.

“It was just supposed to reveal the truth!” Lan Yun blurts out when the disciples holding him wrench his arms back, violent glints in their eyes and mouths pressed into grim lines.

“The truth?! What about this looks like the fucking truth to you?!” Jiang Wanyin yells, Zidian sparking furiously up his entire arm.

He looks like he could go on, but Madame Jiang’s body suddenly twitches before it starts convulsing.

Lan Wangji only has a second to register the building energy before he’s moving, intercepting Wei Ying from running towards his brother and wrapping his husband up in his arms just as the energy explodes outwards in a wave that nearly bowls him over. He manages to turn so that his body is shielding Wei Ying’s, but there is nothing he can do but ride the wave out. He’s distantly aware of Wei Ying screaming his name, but he just tightens his hold.

The energy is vast. Deeper and richer and far, far larger than any reserve of energy – spiritual or demonic – Lan Wangji has ever felt. It is as if someone cracked open an egg and an entire ocean spilled out, flooding the entirety of Lotus Pier in a matter of seconds and drowning all of them under the sheer weight of its might.

Just when Lan Wangji thinks he can endure no more, he feels the wave of energy pull back, condensing inwards and shooting towards the sky. The crushing pressure on his lungs releases and he drags in a ragged breath, Wei Ying gasping in his arms.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying breathes, hands frantic as they check him over, “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

Wei Ying huffs at him. “Don’t do that, Lan Zhan. I’m fine, you know! But what was that? What –?”

Lan Wangji watches as all the color drains from his husband’s face and his voice comes to a strangled halt. Worried, he follows Wei Ying’s gaze. And promptly feels his heart drop into his stomach. Lan Wangji is well aware that he has seen many impossible things in his lifetime, even for a cultivator. At this point, such a thing is not unexpected.

That does not mean he is in any way, shape, or form prepared to be facing a dragon suddenly in the center of Lotus Pier.

Its body is long and sleek, scales a deep, rippling blue, with fins and spines flaring out around it’s towering form. Molten gold eyes stare down at them – eyes that Lan Wangji has seen hundreds of times before today, eyes that he has never thought twice about meeting, eyes so familiar they make his heart move up to his mouth.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, “You see it too right? You see the dragon?”

“Mn,” he manages, throat too tight for anything else.

“Oh, okay then,” Wei Ying wheezes faintly, “Does this mean I’m not crazy? Or are you also crazy? And I just want it on record that this is absolutely not my fault.”

“You dare?” Madame Jiang breathes out, voice a deep, rumbling growl, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth as her burning gaze finds Lan Yun below her.

The man is paler than Lan Wangji has ever seen him. He hadn’t known it was possible for a living person to be that color. But Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to feel any remorse for him – not even pity. A senior disciple of the Lan should know better.

“You idiotic little fool,” she snarls, fury practically dripping from her voice even though she’s holding herself oddly still, “Were I any less than I am, you would have killed every person here. All of Lotus Pier, every cultivator here for the conference, every civilian in town. Every. Single. Person. All those lives. And for what? So you could win an argument?”

Lan Yun seems incapable of speech, mouth flapping uselessly, before he seems to give up, collapsing into the arms of the Jiang disciples that are still restraining him despite the wave of energy that had been crushing them only moments before.

Madame Jiang sneers, disgust obvious. “I don’t expect any better from you Lan at this point, but this?”

She throws her head back in distain and Lan Wangji can’t even summon the usual offence that her open contempt of his sect would bring. Not when a member of said sect just tried to kill her within her own home – or not kill, so much as…reveal, he thinks, Lan Yun’s words echoing in his head.

It was just supposed to reveal the truth!

Lan Wangji looks up at the dragon towering above them and suddenly feels so very small.

“Hairong?”

He turns to see Sect Leader Jiang looking up at the dragon, concerned, but not surprised. In fact, none of the Jiang disciples seem surprised. Shaken, perhaps, but not shocked by this turn of events. Did she tell them? Did the Jiang Sect know that they were harboring a dragon this entire time? It would explain their deference to her despite her disrespectful behavior. Though, if this is in fact Madame Jiang’s true form, then perhaps it was not really disrespect at all. Lan Wangji cannot imagine having the gall to demand a dragon of all beings bow to him just because propriety dictated it.

Madame Jiang shifts to look down at them. “Little Lotus,” she replies, her voice gentling, “This is unexpected, but not…unwelcome, despite the circumstances. It has been a very long time since I wore my scales.”

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes narrow. “Can you change back?”

There’s a pause as Madame Jiang seems to consider this, head tilting to the side. “No,” she says after a moment, “I am as trapped in this form as I was in the other.”

Jiang Wanyin scowls, turning back to the disciples holding Lan Yun, who appears to have passed out. “Find out what he did,” he orders, “Figure out how to reverse it.”

The disciples bow as best they can while holding an unconscious person between them before dragging him off. Lan Wangji makes no move to stop them. None of the Lan do, not even Uncle.

“In the meantime,” Madame Jiang drawls, “I’m certain that the Lan will be more than happy to pay for the damages Lotus Pier has incurred from this little incident.”

Ah, Lan Wangji thinks as he follows the length of her body and sees the broken buildings, buckling under the sudden weight of an entire dragon atop them.

“And, of course,” she continues, “There will be reparations for any injuries sustained as a result of the Lan’s carelessness.”

The implied or else is so heavy in her tone, it is like a physical weight.

“Oh, they will,” Sect Leader Jiang agrees darkly, glaring at any and all Lan cultivators within his line of sight.

“Da-jie doesn’t need to be here for that though, does she?” Sect Leader Nie suddenly cuts in, fan fluttering in front of his face. His eyes are shrewd despite the tentative levity in his tone. He has been acting the part of the useless headshaker less and less these days, but it’s still rather difficult to get anything of substance out of him. “She should go for a swim.”

Madame Jiang chuckles. “What a splendid idea, my little hunter. A swim sounds lovely,” she says. Rather than make to leave, however, she carefully folds in on herself so that she can lower her head without shifting her body. “Will you be terribly upset if I leave you to deal with the mess?”

Jiang Wanyin huffs, reaching up to place a hand against the line of her jaw, seemingly lowered for the sole purpose of being within the Sect Leader’s reach. As if the action of touching a dragon is something simple and easy and common. Though, Lan Wangji supposes, given the way Madame Jiang has a tendency to drape herself over people she likes, perhaps it really is that easy.

“I always deal with the mess,” Jiang Wanyin retorts.

“That’s not true,” Madame Jiang pouts. Pouts­ of all things, as if she is still a small, young woman with a delicate face rather than a towering being of legend. “Sometimes you never know there’s a mess to begin with.”

“That’s terrifying,” Sect Leader Jiang says flatly, “Go away.”

“Very well, little love,” she says, nudging him almost playfully with her muzzle, “I will be in the lake.”

She straightens up, fins flaring out as she delicately lifts herself. Wood splinters and glass shatters with every movement as her coils lift out of the rubble. Madame Jiang glides easily through the sky, circling over Lotus Pier. Lan Wangji can hear the exclamations from town, they are so loud. They have good reason to be. It’s not everyday that a dragon passes overhead.

They watch Madame Jiang fly over the lake. She circles for a moment, scales glinting in sunlight, before diving straight down. She cuts through the water easily, not a single wave displaced despite the large body entering it, the only sign of her passage an echoing ring of ripples.

Lan Wangji had never known silence could be so loud before.

“Well,” Sect Leader Nie cuts through it cheerfully, “Let’s get this sorted out, shall we?”

-

“Seclusion?!” Jiang Cheng asks incredulously, face thunderous.

Privately, Nie Huaisang agrees. The Lan seem to solve everything by shoving the problem in seclusion. Not that it ever seems to work. It seems to be an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ solution more than anything. If the Lan don’t have to see the problem, they can pretend it doesn’t exist.

“Lan Yun,” Jiang Cheng says with a forced calm, keeping eye contact with the idiot who had confidently announced Lan Yun’s punishment. Lan Qiren doesn’t seem inclined to save him, Nie Huaisang notes with amusement, “attacked a member of my sect, a member of my family, in the middle of our home and you think sticking him in seclusion to reflect on his mistakes is a just punishment?”

Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that, Jiang Cheng.

“It is our way,” Elder Idiot says, apparently completely oblivious to the furious sect leader that is two seconds away from going straight for his throat.

“Hairong could have died!” Jiang Cheng snaps.

“And had she, the punishment would be much more severe,” is the reply, “But she did not. Therefore, seclusion will suffice.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow. “If Lan Yun ever shows his face in Yunmeng lands again, his life is mine. In the meantime, it seems the Jiang Sect needs to make some revisions to its trade agreements with the Lan. You’ve demonstrated a reduced need for Yunmeng goods. Does that suffice?”

Oh look, the elder is turning red. It’s always fun when someone manages to make a Lan lose their cool, Nie Huaisang muses, fanning himself. It makes things much more interesting.

“Enough,” Lan Qiren cuts in, “The exact details of Lan Yun’s punishment have yet to be decided by the elders of our sect and it will, of course, be pending Sect Leader Jiang’s approval.” He holds up a hand to stall the protests of his clan members. “As the Sect Leader of the one who was wronged, it is his right. Now, onto the matter of the damages.”

Trust Teacher Lan to steer things back on course without causing an explosion. Though usually, he is the one doing the exploding. Perhaps dealing with Da-jie and Wei-xiong has finally tempered him some? Nie Huaisang eyes the tension around the old man’s eyes, the grim set of his mouth, the tight line of his shoulders. Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps he is simply well aware that Jiang Cheng is not making idle threats. He really will cut off the Lan Sect if he feels it justified. And he has both the power and the means to do so without it hurting his own sect.

The Jiang Sect has always kept largely to themselves, even before Jiang Cheng became Sect Leader. The benefit of maintaining such a stance is that most people tend to leave you to yourselves and, as a result, stop paying attention to you. From a purely technical stand point, Nie Huaisang would consider the Jiang Sect the most powerful sect – even among the Great Sects. The only reason they aren’t considered as such by the world at large is because of the above-mentioned isolation stance. The last time the Jiang Sect was publicly entrenched in politics was the Sunshot Campaign and the period of rebuilding that followed. As soon as the disaster that was the battle at the Nightless City happened, the Jiang Sect had all but withdrawn from the cultivation world. If it weren’t for little Jin Ling being a Jin and therefore outside of the Jiang Sect’s jurisdiction, Nie Huaisang is willing to bet that Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have even shown up to the Discussion Conferences all Sect Leaders were expected to attend, or in the rare cases they were unable to, send a representative. Before Da-jie showed up, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have been surprised if Jiang Cheng had one day decided to never step outside of Yunmeng again. The cultivation world hadn’t given him much reason to want to.

Now, though, he has reasons to want things.

And Lan Qiren knows it to.

Most of the Lan may be content to think themselves above the petty politics of the cultivation world, but Lan Qiren can’t afford to. He was the unofficial Sect Leader Lan for decades after his brother’s seclusion and he has once again been unofficially thrust into the position. Lan Wangji may help, but most of his attention these days goes to either Wei-xiong or his duties as Chief Cultivator and with Er-ge – with Lan Xichen still in seclusion, Lan Qiren must once again contend with sect politics.

Nie Huaisang isn’t sure how aware Teacher Lan is of Jiang Cheng’s power as a sect (There are, after all, many an incident with Jiang Cheng’s children that prove just how very many people don’t pay attention to the Jiang Sect even though they really should.) but he knows that the old man is shrewd enough to realize that favoring his own clan in this will hurt them more in the long run. Better to suffer a blow to your pride now than to lose it all later.

What follows is an intense round of haggling that he and most of the other Sect Leaders in the room are only witnesses to. The conflict is between the Lan and the Jiang after all – minor sects would have no say regardless and the Jin and the Nie are officially uninvolved. (Everyone knows that the new Sect Leader Jin will side with his uncle. If anyone is actually paying attention, they’ll know the Nie will side with him too. Nie Huaisang has never taken threats to his older siblings well.) The list of damages is impressive both because of how much it is – Nie Huaisang doubts Lotus Pier has been in such a state since the Sunshot Campaign, something that is likely making Jiang Cheng twitchy – and because of how little it is – Nie Huaisang saw how big Da-jie was and he might not be a great cultivator, but even his little spark of ability allowed him to feel the veritable flood of power that is now living under his Da-jie’s skin.

A budget is set and a contract is drawn up and signed, before the meeting is dismissed. Nie Huaisang finds himself walking with Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng’s head disciple, Xia Lian, trailing behind them.

“So who won the bet?” he asks, glorying in the way Jiang Cheng sighs the sigh of a man who suffers far too many fools. Xia Lian snorts and Jin Ling almost manages to stifle his laugh in time.

“Huaisang,” he warns, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“A-Cheng,” he returns with a smile.

“A-Sang,” Jiang Cheng glares at him.

Nie Huaisang pokes him in the side. “Come on, tell me, tell me! Who won the bet?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Guess.”

“Grandma Ming,” Jin Ling says immediately.

“We’re still checking the books,” Xia Lian says with an easy shrug, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. The way it pulls at the scar across her face is really quite fetching. He’ll have to ask her to let him paint it later. “But Grandma Ming is a pretty good guess.”

“Grandma Ming always knows,” he muses.

Jiang Cheng scoffs and rolls his eyes again, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he stalks off to undoubtedly check on his people, so Nie Huaisang will call it a win.

-

“Young Mistress!”

Jin Ling immediately feels a stab of annoyance.

Ouyang Zizhen chuckles next to him as he raises a hand in greeting. “Lan Jingyi! Lan Sizhui!”

Lan Sizhui smiles at them as they draw near, falling into a proper bow. “Sect Leader Jin,” he greets.

Oh. No. Nope. Absolutely not.

“Never call me that again,” he snaps, pushing the older boy up from his bow.

Lan Jingyi snorts. “He prefers ‘Young Mistress.’”

“I prefer my name, you absolute disaster of a person,” Jin Ling shoots back.

Lan Sizhui’s smile somehow becomes warmer without his expression shifting at all. “Jin Ling,” he corrects.

“How are you?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, “Neither of you showed up with the rest of the Lan for the conference. Did something happen?”

“Nothing serious,” Lan Sizhui reassures, “We were on a night hunt that ran long. A restless ghost. He wasn’t…malicious, but he very much did not want to rest.”

Lan Sizhui’s slightly strained expression implies that the night hunt was more complicated than that and did not even slightly go according to plan.

“Forget the night hunt,” Lan Jingyi cuts in before Jin Ling can ask, practically vibrating out of his skin, “Are the rumors true?!”

Ouyang Zizhen blinks, head tilting to the side. “Rumors?”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Sizhui sighs in such a way that implies he has said this many times in the last few days.

“Little Mother says that all rumors are based on something. The important part is checking your facts,” Lan Jingyi immediately retorts. “This is me checking my facts.” He grabs Jin Ling by the shoulders. “Is your aunt a dragon?”

“Oh that,” he says as blandly as he can manage.

Lan Jingyi starts shaking him. “Oh that? Oh that? Explain, you stingy – ”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui admonishes.

Lan Jingyi obligingly stops shaking him but his glare does not diminish in the slightest.

“She’s in the lake,” Jin Ling offers after a long moment of aggressive staring, “We can go visit her if you like.”

Lan Jingyi makes an embarrassingly high pitch sound in the back of his throat, even as Jin Ling starts nudging him in the right direction. “Oh my god, your aunt is a dragon!”

“How did that happen?” Lan Sizhui asks, eyes wide as he moves to follow them.

Ah. Hm. Right. Is there a polite way to say that one of your sect members tried to kill your aunt?

Ouyang Zizhen makes an awkward sound that might have been a laugh in a different situation. “Are either of you particularly attached to Lan Yun?”

Jin Ling snorts. Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui exchange bewildered looks.

“No?” Lan Sizhui offers after a moment. “He’s not in our generation so we’re not really familiar with him.”

“Oh good,” Ouyang Zizhen says brightly.

“What did he do?” Lan Jingyi asks eagerly, leaning forward.

Jin Ling crosses his arms. “He attacked Jiuma in the middle of Lotus Pier,” he says flatly.

He watches the Lans’ mouths drop open in shock and Ouyang Zizhen immediately launches into the story. He’s good with words and makes it sound like an adventure rather than the heart stopping moment it really was. Jin Ling pointedly doesn’t think about the way his aunt looked when she collapsed, limbs splayed awkwardly where they fell and oh so frightfully still. Lan Jingyi is hanging on every word, gasping at all the appropriate parts which only seems to egg Ouyang Zichen on. Lan Sizhui, on the other hand, looks concerned. There is a furrow between his brows and a frown tugging at his lips.

“What happened after?” he asks, “Is everyone alright?”

“There were a few injuries, but nothing too serious,” Jin Ling answers, “Most of it was property damage.”

“And your aunt turning into a dragon,” Lan Jingyi adds.

“And Jiuma turning into a dragon,” he agrees.

“She’s always been one though,” Ouyang Zizhen points out, “She just had a different shape before.”

“About that,” Lan Jingyi says, “Can’t she just change back?”

“Nope,” Jin Ling answers, “She says she’s stuck.”

“Do you know what array was used?” Lan Sizhui asks.

He shakes his head. “Only that it had some sort of truth element to it. Lan Yun claimed it was to ‘reveal the truth’ whatever that means. Senior Wei has been working on reversing it for the past few days and he says it’s not that straight forward.”

“Well, if Senior Wei is working on it, I’m sure it’ll turn out fine,” Lan Jingyi says. Privately, Jin Ling isn’t convinced. But he does concede that if anyone can figure it out, it would be Senior Wei. “But what happened to Lan Yun? Sect Leader Jiang wouldn’t have taken any of this lying down.”

Jin Ling snorts. “Oh, he didn’t. Lan Yun’s currently in a cell with his spiritual powers sealed and his sword confiscated. Even he isn’t really sure what he did, so he hasn’t been much help in reversing it.”

“I thought for sure Sect Leader Jiang was going to gut the Lan Elder that suggested seclusion as punishment,” Ouyang Zizhen pipes in, because as heir of the Ouyang Sect, he had the pleasure of front row seats to the disaster that was that meeting.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jin Ling scoffs, “Jiujiu would never do that in the middle of a meeting.”

“But he would absolutely do it elsewhere,” Lan Jingyi drawls and Jin Ling doesn’t disagree, “Was anything actually decided or did everyone just shout at each other?”

“The Lan are paying for the damages,” Ouyang Zizhen answers, “They’re covering the cost of the materials and half of the labor costs.”

“Good,” Lan Sizhui says firmly, disapproval over this entire situation heavy in his voice, Lan Jingyi nodding his agreement. It makes something in Jin Ling uncoil. Not that he was worried either of his Lan friends would be upset over the backlash the Lan would likely face for this, but it was still nice to have the confirmation that neither of them agrees with the actions that were taken against his family.

“As for Lan Yun,” Ouyang Zizhen continues, “No official punishment has been decided yet, but it’s pending Sect Leader Jiang’s approval.”

“Well,” Lan Jingyi says after a beat, “It’s a good thing neither of us are particularly attached to him. We’ll be sure he gets a proper burial.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui tries to sound disapproving, but the slight upward tilt of his lips gives him away.

Soft laughter cuts through their conversation. Startled, they look up to see Sect Leader Nie grinning at them. They’re passing by the pavilion he’s been using to observe the lake. Jin Ling has seen his paintings of his aunt’s dragon form. They are very beautiful.  Jin Ling has already extracted a promise from the sect leader for one of the paintings, he just has to decide which one.

“Jiang-xiong wouldn’t kill him,” Sect Leader Nie says with an amused smile.

“…I’m pretty sure he would?” Lan Jingyi says slowly. Lan Sizhui elbows him in the side and he adds, “Sect Leader Nie.”

Sect Leader Nie’s smile widens. “Oh, to be young and innocent,” he sighs fondly.

“Stop trying to be vague and mysterious, Nie-shushu,” Jin Ling says, crossing his arms, “It doesn’t make you look wise.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean, A-Ling,” he replies airily.

Jin Ling snorts. “What are you doing? Did you make another painting?”

“Mm. I just finished one. Would you like to see?”

Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes go wide and pleading. “Can we? Your paintings are so beautiful, Sect Leader Nie!”

Nie-shushu waves them in with his fan. “Don’t touch though. It’s still drying.”

“Sect Leader Nie has been painting Little Mother,” Ouyang Zizhen explains as they enter the pavilion, “They’re really quite lovely pieces.”

Jin Ling walks over to the table, ignoring the others that have been hung up in various spots. He’s seen them already. This new one has been done entirely in blue inks – a blue dragon dancing gracefully over a lake. The dragon is a darker blue, cutting through the water with an elegant ease. The lake seems to rise up to join in the dance, tendrils of water curling around the dragon’s form. It’s a scene that Jin Ling has seen often these past few days. It’s breathtaking.

“Nie-shushu, I want this one,” he whispers.

“Mmm? You’re certain? I might paint another one you like more,” Nie-shushu replies.

“I’m sure. I want this one.”

Nie-shushu smiles. “I’ll set it aside then.”

“Did this actually happen?” Lan Jingyi interrupts loudly.

Ouyang Zizhen is already nodding. “Every day,” he insists.

Jin Ling turns. They’re looking at the painting of Hairong sunning herself in the shallows of Lotus Cove. She’s taken to doing so every afternoon since this entire thing started. Pretty much all of the younger disciples and all the children in town have taken to swimming around her, climbing her coils and using her fins as slides. It’s fun and it makes Hairong laugh, though she isn’t above shifting suddenly to knock them into the water just because.

“Do Lans even know how to swim?” he asks dubiously, because he’s a little shit as his aunt fondly informs him, and he likes to tug at Lan Jingyi sleeves just as much as the older boy tugs at his.

Lan Jingyi puffs up in offence exactly the way he thought he would. “Of course we do!”

“Then you should join us!” Ouyang Zizhen says.

“Ah,” Lan Sizhui says, “Maybe not.”

Right. Lan Sizhui got boat sick.

“You could just sit with Jiuma,” he offers, “She keeps herself close to the shore and tells stories. Jiujiu meditates on her head sometimes.”

Lan Jingyi’s jaw dropped. “He does not.”

“Sometimes he even naps on her head,” Nie-shushu adds shamelessly, always ready and willing to embarrass Jiujiu at any given opportunity.

“You’re lying,” Lan Jingyi says as Ouyang Zizhen claps his hands over his mouth to hide his smile, “There is no way Sandu Shengshou takes naps in public.”

“I’m not very familiar with the Lan rules,” Nie-shushu says mildly, which is a lie if Jin Ling has ever heard one, “But I’m fairly certain that lying is forbidden.”

Lan Jingyi squints at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says, because apparently even he will not call a sect leader a lying liar who lies to their face when Lan Sizhui is standing right next to him. “Speaking of, no one has actually shown me a dragon yet and I demand proof.”

Nie-shushu blinks. “Proof?”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Jingyi informs gravely, “So I have to find out for myself.”

“A sound policy,” Sect Leader Nie agrees, “She’s in the lake.”

“That’s what I said,” Jin Ling huffs.

“Best get on that, then,” he replies waving them towards the entrance of the pavilion, “You’re burning daylight.”

“Like she wouldn’t be around at night,” Jin Ling grumbles.

“Ah, but little Lans have bedtimes.”

“We do not!” Lan Jingyi protests.

“You kind of do,” Ouyang Zizhen says.

“Let’s just go down to the lake, shall we?” Lan Sizhui starts herding them out, “Apologies for disturbing you, Sect Leader Nie. Thank you for letting us look at your paintings. Zizhen was right – they are very beautiful.”

Nie-shushu just smiles. “Thank you, Young Master Lan.”

Jin Ling lets Lan Sizhui drag them out of the pavilion and down towards the water. Lan Jingyi is urging them on, anticipation bright across his expression. By the time they reach the docks, he’s all but bouncing in place.

“Where is she?” Lan Jingyi asks, looking out at the lake, “I see no dragon.”

Jin Ling rolls his eyes and kneels so he can dip his fingers into the water. “Jiuma?”

He can feel the confusion pouring off the Lans, but between one blink and the next, Hairong is raising out of the water. Instead of towering over them, only her head breaks the surface and she grins at them.

“Nephew,” she replies, taking in his companions, “Little storyteller. And little Lans too. Have you come to visit me?”

Since Lan Jingyi’s jaw seems to be somewhere around his ankles, Jin Ling answers for him. “Jingyi is fact checking.”

That seems to amuse her. “Oh?”

“Apparently there are rumors everywhere and since Lans don’t gossip, they’re here to see with their own eyes.”

She chuckles. “And what do your eyes tell you?”

“You’re a dragon!” Lan Jingyi suddenly erupts. “Why didn’t you tell us you were a dragon?!”

Her eyes are bright and Jin Ling can hear the laughter in her voice. “I never told you I wasn’t,” she says.

That’s true – Jiuma is always frustratingly vague. Jin Ling has never cared personally, but he’s overheard many people ask Hiarong who or what she is before and always, always, her reply is non-answer. She never confirms any guesses, but she never denies them either.

“Besides,” she continues, “You never asked.”

Lan Jingyi splutters.

“I apologize on behalf of the Lan Sect, Madame Jiang,” Lan Sizhui says, going into a perfect bow – one suited to the spouse of a sect leader rather than one for a legend. Jin Ling didn’t think it was possible, but apparently he can like Lan Sizhui more than he already does.

“I do not need, nor do I want, your apologies, little star,” she says, “The wrong was committed by one and they alone hold the blame. The only apology that is appropriate is one from him. Children should not shoulder the blame for the faults of their elders.”

Lan Sizhui looks conflicted, but he nods after Lan Jingyi tugs his sleeve and Ouyang Zizhen gives him a supportive smile.

Jin Ling isn’t sure how to make Lan Sizhui not feel guilty by association, but he can at least distract him. Jumping onto Jiuma’s head and demanding a story seems to do the trick, if Lan Jingyi’s shouting is anything to go by. But Hairong just laughs fondly, indulging them as they lay back against her scales.

He falls asleep under the afternoon sun surrounded by friends and his aunt’s voice.

-

Wei Wuxian sighs as he leaves the library, rubbing a hand over his face.

Over a week and he still hasn’t found a solution. He’s almost there – he can feel it. He’s got most of it figured it out. There’s just one element he can’t decipher. The array Lan Yun used shouldn’t have done what it did; at least that’s not how it was intended to be used. Which means there’s no actual transformation element in the array and therefore nothing for Wei Wuxian to reverse. If he can get past this one hurdle, he’s certain he can create an array that will fix this entire mess.

The problem is that he has no idea who to get past this hurdle.

Lan Zhan would tell him to step back and rest, to try again in the morning, but he has too much anxious energy in his system to sleep right now. If he tried to join Lan Zhan in bed now, he’d only disturb his husband and he doesn’t want that.

He’ll take a walk to clear his head. That should help.

“What are you still doing up?”

Wei Wuxian spins around. “Jiang Cheng!” he exclaims and then winces at his own volume.

Jiang Cheng scowls at him. “It’s late. What are you still doing up?” he repeats.

“Aaaaah, well you know me, Jiang Cheng,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I get sidetracked when I work on a project! I have too many ideas to sleep!”

“Are any of them good ideas?” Jiang Cheng asks, eyes boring into him.

He feels himself deflate. “No, sorry,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I keep getting stuck on the transformation aspect of the array. That’s not written into the original function, so I have no idea where it came from which means the only ways I have of reversing it are all guesswork at best and I don’t think any of us are comfortable risking everything on a guess we aren’t sure will even work.”

Fuck, he’s babbling.

“Anyway, what are you doing up?” he attempts to redirect, though from the flat look Jiang Cheng gives him, it doesn’t work.

“Can’t sleep,” Jiang Cheng admits easily.

Ah. Right. He imagines he’d have a hard time sleeping too without Lan Zhan in his bed after his husband had been attacked.

He places a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll figure it out, Jiang Cheng, I promise,” he vows with all the sincerity he can muster.

Jiang Cheng just rolls his eyes though and knocks his hand aside and Wei Wuxian tires not to flinch. “That was never in question,” he says, and oh, he hadn’t realized that, that Jiang Cheng thought like that, that Jiang Cheng would put such faith in him, and it makes him ache in his chest for an entirely different reason.

“But you’re stuck, aren’t you?” his brother continues, snagging his sleeve and tugging him along, “Why haven’t you asked Hairong?”

Wei Wuxian blinks, caught off guard and lets Jiang Cheng drag him down to the docks. “Uh. No?” he admits, “She’s not a cultivator, so I hadn’t thought to…”

Jiang Cheng is giving him a flat look and Wei Wuxian kind of agrees with him now that he’s thinking about it. Hairong may not be a cultivator and may have no interest or ability to cultivate herself, but that doesn’t mean she’s clueless.

“When was the last time you slept?” Jiang Cheng asks bluntly.

“…two nights ago,” he admits. He’s pretty sure at least. Lan Zhan would never let him neglect himself like that, even if he was neck deep in the middle of a breakthrough. “But it’s not that bad, Jiang Cheng, really! Lan Zhan brings me meals and makes me take naps and doesn’t let me get lost in my head. I’m fine, I promise.”

Jiang Cheng looks at him skeptically, and yeah, okay he deserves that. But he’s telling the truth this time!

“Someone has to look after you, I suppose,” he grumbles after a beat, “Come on.”

They walk in silence and Wei Wuxian tries not to fidget. They’ve gotten better. They’re still not – good. But they’ve talked and they been doing better. He thinks they have, at least. He knows that Lan Zhan doesn’t like Jiang Cheng and that the feeling is mutual, but Hairong is always here with a smile that’s filled with far too many teeth, ready to pounce should Lan Zhan cross over a line she has decided he has no business being near. Wei Wuxian is glad that his brother has someone like her in his corner; someone who will take his side no matter what. It’s good for Jiang Cheng to have someone like that in his life.

He knows that Lan Zhan is mostly angry on his behalf, but he wishes he wasn’t. Lan Zhan shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden and Jiang Cheng has every right to be angry with him. (He tries not to think about that time Hairong had found him drunk on the roof and he had been far, far too honest. She had looked at him blankly for a long moment and then carefully pushed back his hair and told him oh so gently that yes, Jiang Cheng had every right to be angry. But he had every right to be hurt by that anger. It was the softest she had ever been with him. He doesn’t know if he believes her.)

If Wei Wuxian is being honest with himself – and he tries to be these days – he’s been avoiding Hairong. He hasn’t gone down to the lake at all since she took up residence there. He’s seen her from a distance, lounging in the shallows with the children, arching over the lake, sunning herself on the rocks. But he hasn’t approached her directly. He’s not scared – he just. Doesn’t really know what to say to her. It’s easy when she’s just Hairong, his little brother’s wife who sometimes-passive-aggressively-sometimes-aggressively bullies him into communicating with Jiang Cheng like the two of them are real, functional adults instead of jagged, broken pieces of pain and trauma held together in the vague shape of a person through sheer, stubborn willpower.

When she’s a dragon, it’s. Well, it’s a bit different.

So he isn’t really sure what to expect when Jiang Cheng leads him down to the docks, but Hairong singing isn’t it. In hindsight, it’s a rather foolish thought – Hairong is a performer. She loves singing and dancing and storytelling. Why should that change just because her shape did?

There a different tone to it though. A different element to it that Wei Wuxian has never witnessed before.

Hairong glides through the water with the ease and grace of long practice, twisting in the air with water curling around her form as she dances over the center of the lake. Her voice echoes across the water, haunting and joyful and longing all at once. He doesn’t recognize the language, but he doesn’t feel like he’s missing anything by not being able to understand the words.

It’s beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

“You’ve never seen her do this before?” Jiang Cheng murmurs from his place beside him. Wei Wuxian had entirely forgotten he was there.

He shakes his head, unable to look away. “I’ve been mostly holed up in the library. Haven’t really had the time,” he answers softly.

Jiang Cheng makes an amused sound. “I didn’t mean recently,” he says, “This isn’t a new thing.”

As he says it, Wei Wuxian can picture it – Hairong as the woman he knows, small and lithe and so full of life, dancing across the waves, head thrown back and a grin on her face.

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I hadn’t thought – but that makes sense.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “She wouldn’t mind if you watched, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s more shameless than you.”

A fact Wei Wuxian is well aware of. He hadn’t thought he’d ever meet such a person, but here they are.

“…she doesn’t like me,” he says.

“She likes you fine,” his brother immediately shoots back, “She just won’t let you avoid your own bullshit.”

Wei Wuxian makes a vague hum of acknowledgment. Hairong doesn’t let anyone avoid their own bullshit. But that doesn’t mean she likes them. Still…Jiang Cheng knows her best. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says.

“You could just ask her.”

“I could.”

He knows without looking that Jiang Cheng is rolling his eyes at him.

Hairong twists on the surface of the lake, arching up towards the sky before she falls still, her song ending, the last note fading into the night. Jiang Cheng kneels and dips a hand into the water.

“What are you – ?” he starts to ask, brow furrowed, only to be interrupted when Hairong suddenly collapses, sinking beneath the surface of the lake.

He’s left little time to wonder about if because twin spots of glowing gold appear in the water by the dock right before Hairong raises up in front of them.

“Little lotus,” she greets, “Little innovator.”

Wei Wuxian will never admit that he likes it when Hairong calls him that.

“Wei Wuxian has hit a wall,” Jiang Cheng announces like a traitor.

He twitches. “Jiang Cheng!”

Hairong just chuckles. “There are always obstacles in the road. It’s just a question of how you are going to get around them.”

She looks at him, expectant.

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay,” he says, “I’ve figured most of it out. The original array wasn’t so much meant to reveal the truth as it was to reveal hidden things. I mean, there’s an honesty compulsion to ensure that the things revealed are true, but that’s not really the purpose of the original array. Which would be simple enough to reverse on it’s own because we’d just have to switch the ‘revelation’ components to ‘hidden’ and – ”

“You’re babbling,” Jiang Cheng cuts in, “If you’ve already figured that part out, then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that there’s no transformation component in the original array,” he admits.

Jiang Cheng blinks. “What? But – ” he gestures at Hairong, expression incredulous.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says, “But I’ve deconstructed the array at least six times and there’s nothing that should prompt this kind of reaction there!”

“You are approaching the problem from the wrong angle, I think.”

Wei Wuxian stares up at Hairong. “What do you mean?”

Hairong shifts, sinking slightly to be closer to their level. “What was the intent behind the array?”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “Lan Yun maintains that the array’s purpose is revelations of truth,” he says glancing Wei Wuxian.

“It’s really not,” Wei Wuxian confirms.

“The purpose does not matter in this instance,” Hairong says.

Now Wei Wuxian is frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Truth is…a very odd thing,” she says, “When most people think of it, they think of something that is always true no matter how it is picked and prodded. It is not something that can be changed. It is objective.”

Wei Wuxian raises a brow, interested. “But…?”

Hairong grins at him. “They aren’t wrong. But most everyday truths that people face are not objective. They are subjective.”

“How?” he asks.

“Because they depend largely on your point of view,” she answers, “Something you should be more than familiar with, Yiling Patriarch.”

“Ah,” he winces.

“You mean people manipulate the truth to suit them,” Jiang Cheng says.

She shakes her head. “No. They believe it to be true with all their hearts – but that doesn’t mean it is. For you, midday is when the sun is high in the sky. But for the owl who hunts at night while you sleep, midday is when the moon is high in the sky. So which is the truth?”

“Both of them,” Wei Wuxian says, mind working, “Lan Yun’s intent was to reveal the truth regardless of the actual purpose of the array. But he was as surprised by the results as the rest of us.”

Hairong looks pleased. “Indeed. I have many shapes, little innovator. Some human, some animal, some that are in between. All of them are still me. And yet, of all of them, this is the form that was revealed. Why?”

Wei Wuxian exchanges a look with Jiang Cheng. Hairong has a point. He knows that her relationship with the Lan has been…contentious at best and for one of them to actually act against her, in the middle of Lotus Pier no less, it would not be with the intention of revealing her to be a dragon. That would only prove her to be in the right and make the Lan lose face in the process. Which is exactly what happened. Lan Yun would not have intended for this to happen – had looked surprised when it did. So…

“Hairong,” Wei Wuxian says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, “Are you a dragon?”

She laughs softly, an amused gleam in her eyes. “In your culture? Who’s to say? In mine?” she grins, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. It should be terrifying and yet Wei Wuxian can see her all but radiating mischief. “The dragon has always been my brother.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Oh, well if you’re related to dragons,” he mutters, crossing his arms as he shoots a searching look at his wife, “Lan Yun wanted to reveal you as a monster.”

Her smile dims into something more solemn at that. “And he got one.”

There’s a pause.

Hairong is many things, but monstrous is not even remotely close to anywhere on Wei Wuxian’s list. He’s seen her with people. The juniors, the elderly, the children, civilians, cultivators, prostitutes, sect leaders. He’s seen her in all kinds of situations – he’s seen her be kind and cruel, gentle and harsh, proper to the point of pain and so shameless that even he is red in the face.

Wei Wuxian has known monsters.

Hairong is not one of them.

“I think we have different definitions of what a monster is,” he says flippantly.

She huffs at him. “Oh? And my appearance doesn’t do it for you?”

“More than half the people here are tripping over themselves just to bow to you,” Jiang Cheng says flatly.

Hairong clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Then what of the fact that I’ve killed more people than are currently alive?”

Wei Wuxian stares. “…How old are you?”

“Don’t you know to never ask a lady her age?” she asks coyly.

“Even if that’s true,” Jiang Cheng starts, his tone and expression conveying that he knows very much that it’s true, “What the fuck does that have to do with us?” he asks gesturing between them.

“I’m really not in a position to be throwing stones about that anyways,” Wei Wuxian adds softly, crossing his arms over his chest. The events of the battle at the Nightless City are more like bloody fragments of jagged glass than actual memories, but that doesn’t mean he has no clue what happened. He’s all too aware. He knows what he did. What room does he have to criticize another for the murder of thousands? And he knows that’s what it was. For Hairong, it doesn’t matter if it was in self-defense or cold blood, if there was a good reason or not. Killing is killing is killing. And he, someone who has more blood on his hands than he cares to think about, understands that very well.

Hairong hums and Wei Wuxian gets the distinct impression that she’s shrugging even though she doesn’t have the appropriate body parts for such an action.

“I am what I am,” she says, “Your feelings on that are yours and yours alone.”

“As if you don’t already know what they are,” Jiang Cheng scoffs.

Hairong giggles of all things and dips down to nuzzle her husband. Jiang Cheng leans into her, resting his forehead against her scales.

…Is this how Jiang Cheng feels when he and Lan Zhan are together? This is terrible.

“Anyway,” he says loudly and Jiang Cheng pulls back to scowl at him, “Don’t worry, Hairong, Jiang Cheng still loves you a lot.”

“He does,” Hairong agrees and Wei Wuxian watches with barely hidden glee as Jiang Cheng turns bright red, but then she turns to him. “And what of you, little tease, do you love me too?”

She even bats her eyes at him, which is all kinds of strange when she’s reptilian.

He splutters and he can feel himself flushing.

Hairong throws her head back and laughs, long and loud, the sound echoing over the water.

“We are getting off topic,” Jiang Cheng cuts in, blush still high on his cheeks. He turns to Wei Wuxian. “Did this help?”

He blinks and then mentally redirects. “Ah. Right. Well, if we don’t have to worry about a transformation component, then I suppose I’ve already reversed the array. We just need someone with the right intent to cast it.” He eyes Hairong speculatively, hand absently coming up to rubs his nose as he thinks. “If you were a cultivator, I would just give the modified array to you and have your intent cast it, but…”

“But she’s not a cultivator,” Jiang Cheng finishes.

“Lotus can cast it.”

Wei Wuxian watches Jiang Cheng whip around to face her. “What? No!”

“You know me best,” she says simply.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll do it right!” he snaps back.

Wei Wuxian watches, bewildered, as his brother argues with his wife over his ability to reverse the array correctly. Jiang Cheng could do it, he knows. He’s the best candidate for it – Hairong is right, Jiang Cheng knows her best. Wei Wuxian just can’t understand why he’s refusing.

“Don’t ask me,” Jiang Cheng grits out, “We have a difference of opinion on this. I don’t want mine to have any influence that might effect yours.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t get it, not at first. But then Hairong goes still and her eyes go impossibly sad and soft.

Oh.

Hairong isn’t a cultivator.

Jiang Cheng is.

Hairong is going to die long before he does.

Wei Wuxian knew that, he did. But he’s never really stopped to think about it before, about what it means that Hairong doesn’t have a golden core. He knows what it means. (He knew what he was subjecting himself to when he gave his away.) Yet, it’s never before occurred to him what it meant for Hairong specifically. And considering he’s not the one married to her, but his first instinctive reaction is a violently visceral no, he can understand Jiang Cheng’s refusal.

He can’t make his brother do that. Not to his wife. Not to someone he loves.

So he needs to find a different solution. Hairong can’t cast the array, but she as the correct intent needed for it. Jiang Cheng won’t cast the array, but has the spirit energy needed to activate it in the first place. He tilts his head to the side, turning the idea over in his mind, shifting the pieces until they slot together neatly. It could work – a slight adjustment to compensate for dual casting, but with a single power source.

It should work.

“Okay,” he says loudly, clapping his hands together and pasting a bright smile onto his face as he pushes through the heavy atmosphere like it isn’t there, “Jiang Cheng’s spiritual energy will power the array, but Hairong will be the one to actually cast it.”

“…Will that work?” Jiang Cheng asks skeptically.

“I will make it work,” he says.

“Thank you, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian stares up at Hairong with wide eyes. Something he’s long noticed about Hairong is that she doesn’t use names. Ever. This is the first time he has heard her use one and it’s his.

Her gaze is heavy and he feels it like a physical weight on his chest. He understands.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

It isn’t until he and Jiang Cheng are on the way back to their rooms that he remembers to ask the question that has been burning in the back of his mind for the entire week.

“So you married a dragon? What’s that like?”

“Wei Wuxian!”

-

Lan Qiren feels as though he has aged forty years over the course of a single week.

The last conference that had devolved so badly was the one when Wei Wuxian’s return was revealed to world after the then Madame Jin, Qin Su, had committed suicide and started a chain of events that shook the cultivation world so hard that they were still recovering. Lan Qiren thinks this one might be worse. The last one was – regrettable. But understandable once everything had come out. This though…

This time, he isn’t certain how to even begin wrapping his head around these new revelations. This time, it is the Lan that have lost face, not the Jin.

The Discussion Conference has more or less come to a standstill in the wake of Lan Yun’s actions. They still meet daily but little of what is actually discussed is actually what they are meant to be discussing. It’s mostly become nothing more than an attempt to subtly interrogate Sect Leader Jiang about his wife. Jiang Wanyin is not known for his patience, but Lan Qiren really must give the younger man credit for enduring such nonsense without snapping – that’s not to say Sect Leader Jiang is taking things lying down. He’s had no problem making his displeasure known and Zidian is almost constantly throwing off sparks.

It’s a wonder no one has been struck down by the lightning Sect Leader Jiang wields so naturally.

When Wei Wuxian comes up with a way to reverse what has been done to Madame Jiang, Lan Qiren is not surprised. As much as it galls him to admit it (and he will never do so out loud), for all the he is an undisciplined deviant, Wei Wuxian is brilliant. Which is way they’ve all gathered at the docks today; to witness his work in action and hopefully revert Madame Jiang to human form. Wei Wuxian seems confident it will work and he doubts that Jiang Wanyin would let any such array near his wife if he was not confident in the same.

Lan Qiren does not allow the general unrest in the air to affect him. The Jiang Sect are the only ones completely unsurprised by recent revelations and he has decided he will reexamine that fact at a later time – preferably in private far away from the stress that seems to follow the Jiang Sect like a shadow. The Nie and the Jin are surprised, though their Sect Leaders are noticeably not. The Lan were completely caught off guard. He has been completely caught off guard. In his defense, he’d never expected a member of his sect to have the audacity to attack a member of another sect completely unprovoked. Lan Yun has much to answer for when they return to the Cloud Recesses – and not just for his attack on Madame Jiang. His entire approach to the situation was wrong. Lan Qiren cannot take the risk that Lan Yun would not have acted in a similar fashion with someone else who disagreed with him. Contrary to what some of his contemporaries seem to think, seclusion is the least of what Lan Yun deserves. His actions will have lasting consequences, not just for him, but for the entirety of the sect.

At the very least, Madame Jiang herself doesn’t seem inclined to take action against them. He’s seen Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi sitting on the dragon’s head with Sect Leader Jin and the Ouyang Sect heir multiple times since they’ve arrived. And Sect Leader Jiang has been almost alarmingly reasonable about the entire thing – though Lan Qiren has no doubt that if he’d failed to bow his head to the younger man, that would be an entirely different story.

The gathered cultivators watch as Wei Wuxian ducks in close to explain something to Jiang Wanyin. The Sect Leader nods and Wei Wuxian retreats back to Wangji’s side.

Madame Jiang, who has been waiting silently in the water near the docks, carefully lowers her head.

The soft glow of spiritual energy shines between husband and wife as Sect Leader Jiang applies the array. He steps back and Madame Jiang sinks into the lake.

Lan Qiren can sense the energy in the air – heavy and potent and vast in a way that is honestly terrifying – building similarly to the way it had at the beginning of this entire fiasco but in a far more controlled manner.

Madame Jiang emerges from the center of the lake, shooting into the sky without displacing a single drop of water. She glides through the sky as easily as she did that first day for all she has not left the lake since she entered it. She dances through the air with a grace that would look unnatural on any other creature, coils twisting and turning, scales glowing with a golden light far brighter and purer than sunshine. That golden light builds and builds and builds until it is too bright to look at. The energy begins to compress, sinking in on itself until it becomes a single point of light.

And then it falls.

That single point of condensed energy crashes into the lake, waves rippling outwards. Golden energy bleeds out with the ripples, expanding until the entire lake shines like the sun, soft waves of light lapping at the docks.

The light slowly fades, leaving the water looking exactly as it was before and yet Lan Qiren cannot help but feel that something has changed. He blinks the spots from his vision and ignores the whispers that have risen around him as Jiang Wanyin approaches the edge of the dock.

Just as the Sect Leader reaches the end, a hand reaches up out of the water, slapping down on wood before a human body hoists itself out of the lake.

A very naked human body.

The whispers turn into loud exclamations and Lan Qiren pointedly turns his gaze away, forever lamenting the fact that his peers are apparently incapable of rational thought in the presence of improperly clad woman. Or an un-clad woman, as the case may be.

“Hairong,” Sect Leader Jiang’s voice cuts through the noise, aggrieved and resigned in equal measure.

His wife simply laughs. “Did you expect my clothes to survive that?”

Jiang Wanyin heaves a put-upon sigh. “It would have been nice,” he says, followed by a rustling sound.

“I don’t know what the fuss is about,” Madame Jiang says, “I’ve little need for clothes. My scales are fine enough.”

Lan Qiren is suddenly struck by the realization that Madame Jiang’s constant disregard for what is considered appropriate attire is because she doesn’t consider it worth her attention. After all, why should a dragon worry about how many layers is proper for what occasion?

Even though he’s been doing so all week, Lan Qiren is going to have to reevaluate every interaction with Madame Jiang.

“You don’t have scales right now,” Sect Leader Jiang replies flatly, “You have fragile human skin and you are soaking wet. If you don’t wear clothes, you’re going to get sick.”

“Fine, fine.”

“There. You’re decent.”

Carefully, Lan Qiren turns. Jiang Wanyin is adjusting the way his outer robes lays across his wife’s shoulders. It’s a hopeless endeavor – the robe is far too large for her small frame, and though Sect Leader Jiang has managed to tie it in such a way that it won’t fall right off her, the sleeves still cover her hands and the robe pools at her feet.

“I’m always decent,” she says, lightly bating his hands away and walking down the dock towards the assembled cultivators watching her attentively.

The robe drags along the ground revealing a highly improper amount of leg, but Lan Qiren does not allow his eyes to stray. He can not say the same for many of his fellows.

She stops before them in an overly large robe, legs on display, hair unbound and in complete disarray and dripping wet, completely soaking her clothes. Her expression is serene and distant, eyes half-lidded as she looks over them, still glows with residual energy, golden light shining brightly.

She looks like an empress.

“Lan Yun,” she says, golden eyes locking on where he stands bracketed by Jiang disciples, voice echoing and far too large for her small frame, more suited to the towering creature of legend Lan Qiren now knows her to be. “Are you satisfied?”

Lan Yun falls to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“A thousand apologies, Madame Jiang,” he says, “This lowly one begs your pardon. He acted foolishly in his arrogance and delivered harm upon both your person and your home. This one swears on his sect and his sword that such a thing will never happen again.”

Madame Jiang scoffs.

“What pretty words,” she says. There are glowing points of gold across Lan Yun’s shoulders where her gaze bores into him. She flicks a sleeve and the Jiang disciples haul Lan Yun to his feet so she can look him in the eye. “Are they for Hairong, the mortal woman who speaks her thoughts freely without censure? Or are they for the immortal legend you worship as if it were a god?”

Lan Yun visibly flounders. “I – they are for you – ”

Madame Jiang sneers at him. “You were willing to use spells and trickery because I did not agree with you. You could have killed me over a difference of opinion. What value do words have when they come from a mouth such as yours?”

Lan Yun cannot answer, face red with embarrassment and shame, nor can he retreat held in place as he is.

“If you ever use such methods again, no matter how mundane or mild you think the situation to be,” she continues, “I will find you. And I will rip your throat out with my teeth,” she says calmly, simply.

It is not a threat.

It is a promise.

And Lan Qiren realizes, with a cold, sinking dread, that the woman they have known for over the past decade, the woman who openly questions their ways, who sincerely and eagerly debates their philosophies, who flaunts her impropriety in their faces without shame every chance she gets, who constantly drives their sect to its wits end trying to deal with her – that all of that shameful, improper, aggravating behavior was her being polite.

And her patience is now at an end.

“Do you understand?”

Lan Yun gives a shaky nod, trembling from head to toe.

“Excellent. Get out of my sight.”

The Jiang disciples release him and Lan Yun makes a hasty retreat.

Madame Jiang casts her gaze over the assembled cultivators and Lan Qiren notes with growing unease that she seems to linger on anyone in Lan colors.

“I am a patient woman,” she says after a moment of heavy silence, “But even I have my limits. I have grown tired of dealing with spoiled children who throw temper tantrums whenever the slightest thing doesn’t go their way. As things stand, I would be within my rights to declare war over this, would I not?”

She turns towards Sect Leader Jiang, head tilted in inquiry. Jiang Wanyin raises an eyebrow in question, but nods in acknowledgment.

“An attempt on your life was made,” her husband answers, “We would be in our rights to retaliate.”

She laughs. “Oh, the Yunmeng Jiang would not be going to war,” she says, turning back to them with a smile that looks far more like a baring of teeth, “It would be me.”

Her words land amongst them like a stone, heavy and blunt and shocking. Lan Qiren feels as if he cannot breathe.

“That’s how things work amongst you lot, isn’t it?” she asks, head tilted in earnest curiosity, “You tried to kill me so I kill you back? That’s what I’d do if I was like you. Oh, but I forgot,” she muses thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t stop there, would I? The Lan are dangerous. They attack individuals for the simple act of having thoughts. Such a dangerous sect to leave unchecked. They are a threat and must be dealt with. Isn’t that what I would think, if I was like you?”

There’s a pressure in the air, pressing down on his shoulders, squeezing around his lungs. Lan Qiren’s heart is in his throat. He has not felt fear like this since the Sunshot Campaign.

“I could, you know,” she continues, “It would be easy. You’ve all done it countless times and never batted an eye. If I was like you, it would be easy. The Lan are a threat to me and mine – too dangerous to be left alive. If I was like you, I would wage war, wouldn’t I? If I was like you, I would claim each cultivator’s life in retribution. But not just yours, right? If I was like you, I would slaughter you all. The oldest, most feeble elder down to the infants in their cradles. The servants. The non-combatants. The children. That’s what I would do, if I as like you.”

Her pause is like a physical weight, her glowing gold gaze piercing straight through them. Her voice has gotten quieter, softer, as she spoke and yet it echoes across the entirety of Lotus Pier. Her next words are little more than a whisper, but they strike Lan Qiren to his core.

“Aren’t you so very glad that I am not like you?”

And then the pressure is gone.

The energy that saturated the air has vanished and Lan Qiren pulls air into his lungs as if he had been drowning just a moment before. He’s not the only one. All around him, cultivators are gasping, staggering as if released from a great weight.

The Jiang Sect’s First Disciple, Xia Lian, steps from the crowd and offers Madame Jiang her arm, completely unruffled by the scene she just witnessed.

“Come, Little Mother,” she says, “You must be tired, no need to linger. Sect Leader can deal with the guests.”

Madame Jiang huffs. “Don’t call them guests,” she says, voice once more that of a mortal woman, as she threads her arm through Xia Lian’s, “That implies that they’re wanted.”

“As you say, Little Mother,” Xia Lian replies, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Except you, little hunter,” Madame Jiang flaps a sleeve in Sect Leader Nie’s direction as they pass, “You’re an angel and we’re all thrilled you’re here.”

Nie Huiasang just smiles, leisurely waving his fan. “Always a pleasure to be here, Da-jie.”

Jiang Wanyin snorts before stepping forward. “Alright, show’s over,” he says pointedly, “I’m sure we all have far more important things to do.”

Lan Qiren has never been more glad for a Discussion Conference to come to a close.

-

Jiang Cheng is not surprised when Hairong slides into his bed.

She plasters herself to his side, head resting on his chest, hand over his heart. He curls an arm around her shoulders, fingers smoothing down the soft fabric of her sleep robe. The first few times this had happened, Jiang Cheng had nearly bodily thrown Hairong from the room. Sometimes, he still doesn’t welcome it. But sometimes, times like tonight, he silently yearns it.

“Are you angry at me?” Hairong asks, tracing patterns on his chest.

A sigh explodes out of him. He should be. Her little show earlier had spun the sects into a whirlwind – half of them tripping over their own feet as they beg him to reign in his ‘wife’ and the other half demanding to know if they need to prepare for war. Lan Wangji had been visibly unnerved, but Wei Wuxian seemed to have been the only other one in the room to understand what had just happened. But with three of the Great Sects firmly in agreement that no war preparations were necessary, there was little that could be said.

Nie Huiasang pointed out that Hairong had every right to be upset about what happened and nothing she said was untrue.

Not a statement that had helped really, but it got the point across.

As it stands, Jiang Cheng isn’t feeling particularly charitable to any other sects at the moment. They only care now that Hairong’s ‘true’ form has been revealed as opposed to just last week when they would have been content to slander her name and gossip as soon as her back was turned. Now they are going to fall over themselves to flatter her, to gain her favor, when before they would have ignored her existence. They will fear her and revere her and Jiang Cheng is almost looking forward to watching her put them all in their places.

But more than all of that – more than the damages and the other sects and politics of it all – Jiang Cheng keeps seeing that moment Hairong hit the floor.

All week, every time he closes his eyes, he sees her there, sprawled out on the ground, still and limp and lifeless. He sees her, Hairong, his friend, his family, collapsed in a heap, dead, in the middle of Lotus Pier. While he stands there, helpless unable to stop it. He’d told himself, years ago, that Lotus Pier would never again be filled with the bodies of people he cared about. He’d promised.

And yet.

And yet.

“I’m not angry,” he whispers into the quiet between them.

Hairong hums. “But you are upset.”

He breathes, closes his eyes, sees her body seared into the backs of his eyelids.

Hairong is patient, hand over his heart, fingers taping out a mindless beat. She doesn’t prod or pry. She merely waits.

“You were dead,” he says after a long silence, “For that single moment, you were dead. And I could do nothing.”

The tapping over his heart stops. Hairong pushes herself up and braces herself over him, elbows on either side of his head and looks him in the eye. He meets her gaze and lets everything he won’t say, everything he doesn’t know how to say, show in his eyes.

Her face softens and she dips down to press her forehead to his.

“My death will never be your fault,” she says firmly, “Regardless of the how or why or when. Regardless of if you are standing right next to me or on the other side of the world. My death will never be your fault. Do you understand?”

“Logically,” he replies, because he does. He understands what she’s telling him. But emotions rarely follow logic and Jiang Cheng has never been particularly inclined to listen to logic when his emotions run wild.

Hairong pulls back enough that he can see the rueful smile quirking her lips. “Fair,” she says as she settles back against his side.

They breathe together for a moment and now Jiang Cheng waits. He knows what’s coming next.

“I am going to die, Jiang Cheng,” she says quietly, “And it will not be your fault.”

He pulls in a breath, holds it for a moment, and then releases it all at once. “I know,” he answers, “And part of me will hate you for it.”

“I know,” she echoes back at him, “But just because I will be leaving you in however many years does not mean I’ll never see you again. Death isn’t a goodbye. Just a see you later.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he can’t help but grumble.

She huffs a laugh against his throat as she curls into him. “No,” she whispers to him as if imparting a secret, the weight of years in her voice, “It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

Jiang Cheng gives in and turns, wrapping himself around Hairong’s smaller form. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

She smiles, small and sad and fond, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Oh, A-Cheng, nothing is forever. I would have rather loved and lost than never loved at all. You know that.”

“I do.”

And he does. They’ve had this talk numerous times over the years. It never gets any easier. He understands all too well what Hairong means when she says death is something that happens to the living. It makes him cling that much harder to the things that are his.

“You’re not allowed to die of anything other than old age,” he announces.

He can feel her smile against the hallow of his throat.

“I will do my best.”

It’s not a promise. Hairong never makes promises about things out of her control and Jiang Cheng loves her for it. She never promises impossible things. Still.

“You’re a Jiang,” he grumbles at her, closing his eyes and settling more firmly against her. “Attempt the impossible.”

A breath of laughter warms his chest.

“As you say, little love.”

#a sea of lotus flowers verse #ffxv x mdzs #elri writes #writing different POVs is hard #still working on some characters voices #if you think nhs does have a constant stream of internal witty commentary running #you are wrong #yes wwx still thinks jc and hr are married #idk if he'll ever figure it out #haven't decided #lqr will never figure it out #thalassa snaps #she goes off #culture clash #the elminiation of an entire sect is something that is normal in mdzs world #it's just how they do things #thalassa does not approve #she disagrees and it shows #jc and thalassa are queerplatonic besties #they have sleepovers #jc has a lot of feelings over hairong's eventual death

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 12

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10

Part 11

Damienette arranged marriage: part 12

NEXT

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Marinette felt an excruciating pain in her chest. It was like her heart burned alive. She kicked Chat Noir right below the belt. He let go of her and stumbled back, this time falling onto the blanked an holding his manhood. Marinette also fell. A green light covered the general area of her heart.

------------------------------

The excruciating pain slowly died and light faded, but both still lingered. Marinette could feel her limbs stiffen to try and counter the pain. It was like she just survived a serious heart stroke.

She slowly managed to stand up. Chat d’amour was still lying, crying in pain from her two punches. Marinette got to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Her body was still hurting, but she managed to jump over the barrier and slide down the edge. Her beautiful red dress was dirtied and damaged, but she didn’t care. She had to get away. She had to escape. But she was still too close. She had to get down. But she was three storeys above the ground. It took her only a moment to make the decision to jump.

People who were down there watched in fear as young girl fall from the roof. Marinette had to think fast. She cursed herself internally that she left her bag at Chloe. Tikki was still there. She did not plan on leaving in this outfit. She loved the dress, but there was a need for some accessories. Specifically, a place for Tikki. Acting in panic she tried to grab herself onto some sill, but it did little to actually work. She was sure she would smash into the ground.

Hard pavement came much to fast. She only managed to slightly bend her knees and extend her legs to minimize the impact. When she came into contact, the momentum pushed her into the ground and she felt immense pain in her soles, but to her relief she was able to walk. And more importantly, to run. All of her person was full of pain and each step felt like walking barefoot on broken glass, but the fear of what would happen if the Akuma caught her won over physical discomfort. She had to get away. She had to get to the hotel. Marinette needed Tikki. And more importantly she had to check if Damian was safe. Oh Kwami! Damian! He tried to defend me and Chat threw him at the wall! He must have been hurt badly. He doesn’t have miraculous to protect him!

But what mattered most was that she had to stop Chat. She couldn’t let him harm anyone because of her. He was doing it because she rejected him. He got akumatized over the fact that Ladybug rejected her and then apparently he shifted his focus on Marinette, only for her to publicly start dating Damian! But that was no reason to wreck the whole city. To get akumatized! To try and kiss her!

She shuddered at the memory. This was not okay. Marinette remembered her panic. In the hindsight, maybe breaking his nose was not a sign enough… I will go straight to castration if it ever happens again. Great. Now I sound like Damian…

“So your mother is some cult leader that decided to play a matchmaker?” Chloe asked in disbelief. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! And why Dupain-Cheng? I mean I… What does she brings into it? How would your mother even know about her?”

“I am not sure.” Damian admitted. He operated on half-truths since the beginning of the talk. “Maybe that’s exactly why. Marinette has heart of gold and she doesn’t care about people’s past, their status or family. She just looks at them and what they have inside.” He spoke from his own experience. She didn’t care that his mother was the one who forced him into this. She apologized for inconvenience she caused him.

“But why her? There must be thousands of girls like her that would entail at least some benefit…”

“I can assure you miss Bourgeois that there is no one like her.”

“I guess…“ She wanted to say more, but seeing Damian start to glare through the window angry made her stop. Now there was the brooding ball of angst she heard so much about.

The whole talk while waiting for the ambulance was taking too freaking long for his liking. They sat here for almost half an hour by now. He could only guess that Akuma attack was making things hard, but he had no idea why since no one besides him was hurt to his knowledge. It was like people stopped caring about them. He tried to call Drake again, but there was no answer whatsoever. It was almost like they were isolated from the rest of the world.

The realization dawned on him. He was a complete idiot. The idiocy on par with that of Drake. “Nobody is coming. I think I know lover cat’s powers.” He stated

“Then talk instead of sitting there like an utter idiot!”

“Isolation. He wants to have Marinette only for himself, but this idiot probably used his powers on us too!” Damian was fuming. Chat not only tried to take Marinette against her will, but his whole goal was to make her separate from everyone. Screw the rules, he would gut him and worry about the consequences later.

Standing up he felt pain rush through his leg. Damian frowned, but he used his sword in scabbard to support himself. That is until Chloe pushed him back to the bed.

“You are not going anywhere Lover Boy. Last thing I need is you making Dupain-Cheng a widow before she turns sixteen.”

“Why are you suddenly so defensive of her?” Damian scowled at the blonde. From what he knew, she was not the kind type. And he didn’t buy the sudden ‘change of heart’ thing.

“Because I don’t want to be alone! I want to have friends! I know I am utterly ridiculous, but I want to have real friends! She was ready to just forgive me and defend me! I want… I want to repay her!”

“Then man up and help me get to my room. I need to call one person who can help us.” Damian snarled. He was still unconvinced, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. It was that or leaving Marinette alone with the French Psycho #2. Blonde frowned, but helped him nonetheless.

They arrived at his room and Damian got a reinforced case from under his bed. He made sure to open it just a little bit and snatch the satelite phone and smash it back locked before Chloe saw the kevlar suit inside. It was enough revelations because he fucked up today anyway. His brothers would not let him live the fact that he revealed the marriage anyway. If he also outed himself as Robin, he would probably just return to being a hermit in the mountains. It would sure be easier than the scolding from father and jokes from his brothers.

He pulled the phone and pressed several buttons. After scanning his finger, the screen came to life. He picked the number and called. After two rings a muffled voice came from the other side.

“Yeah yeah. I need Superboy so drag your tired ass here this instant!”

“~~~~”

“I don’t care what your father said!”

“~~~~”

“Eh… My wife is in trouble… I hear one tease from you and I am asking father for Kryptonite knuckle dusters for birthday!”

There was a sound of incoming plane and suddenly someone crashed through the window. The boy wore a zipp-up jacket with Superman logo, jeans trousers and had ruffled black hair. He was about thirteen, maybe fourteen.

“‘tsup?”

“Shut up Superboy.” Damian frowned. He had to restrain himself not to out Kent in front of the irritating girl. He wished he just got Mari home when he had a chance.

“I though we were on the first-name basis Robin!”

The sound of Damian’s facepalm could be heard in Fortress of Solitude.

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25

#mlb x dc #maribat au #maribat #arranged marriage au #crossover #guardian!marinette #batman #damienette #marinette x damian #league of assassins #order of the guardians #mlb #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug

[naerysthelonesome]

Time spent together

Part 6:

The narrator returns

Apollo and Lit are very, very close to Artemis’ place now. Apollo looks splotchy and nervous. I don’t like it. Clashes too much with his outfit. Lit, on the other hand looks cool and calm. That’s weird. Probably a façade.

Apollo finally makes a turn, and pulls into a driveway in this really nice neighborhood. I’d consider living here, if I could… live, you know? He parks the car and just sits there, like an idiot. I’m sure Lit notices because he punches Apollo lightly in the arm, and steps out. Apollo follows soon after, and Lit moves to the backseat to get his bag, but the former flaps at his arms in impatience. Boi does he not look the epitome of grace today.

Lit shoots him a look, and shoulders his bag anyway.

They both make their way to the front door of the pretty, baby blue house. It looks quaint, and cozy, and not really someplace I’d imagine Apollo’s cool sister Artemis living, but maybe she’s into the whole cottagecore thing. I wouldn’t know. I’m supposed to keep focused on Apollo and Lit.

Speaking of, Apollo is trying to look collected and nonchalant as he knocks on the door, but it’s (incredibly) clear that he isn’t. Lit inches just a little bit closer, trying to offer his support, but of course Apollo doesn’t notice. At least not at first. Then Lit’s hand brushes against his own, and, I kid you not, his eyes spark. His breath hitches in his chest, and he goes completely still. Simp.

The door bangs open to reveal a silver woman. No seriously, she’s silvery all over. Her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a most mesmerizing silvery-white, her skin glows in places (silver highlighter methinks), and all the delicate silver jewelry over the lacy, dark green tank top and gray shorts makes her look ethereal and fairylike. DAMN she is really taking the Artemis thing seriously.

“Big brother!”

“We’re twins, and you’re unoriginal”, Apollo says resignedly. Like he’s had this exact conversation before. He probably has. Artemis simply smiles.

“Aw don’t be like that!”

She turns toward Lit, who’s been standing there awkwardly, and offers him her hand. Palm facing down, snowy white fingers curled, like she expects him to kiss it.

Lit looks like he’s visibly restraining himself from turning to Apollo in bewilderment.

“Aren’t you going to take my hand?” Artemis asks, with a fake pout.

Lit reaches out and takes it, completely unsure of what to do next. He just holds it like it’s an unwanted bug someone’s placed in his hand.

“Must all your dates be so rude, Apollo?” Artemis questions, with a huff.

“Must you always act like a twat that doesn’t know what century it is, Artemis?” he replies, turning to Lit. “She’s just playing with you”.

Artemis laughs, and walks away. It’s a normal laugh, no tinkling wind chimes, or tumbling rivers. I don’t even know if that’s humanly possible. Stephanie must have been on something.

“Something tells me it’s best if I play along”, Lit says, following Apollo through the door.

“Definitely. Oh, and leave your shoes here.”

Two of the girls Artemis lives with are insanely pretty. (But then, all humans look insanely pretty to me… oh to have a physical form). And they look like polar opposites. The bigger one is wearing a flowy summer dress that perfectly complements her wheatish skin, her pink and brown hair in a neatly curled high pony, winged eyeliner on point. The other one has her orange-red hair hanging about her face, some of it still fixed in the messiest messy bun I’ve ever seen. She stays seated on the sofa, in her dull grey sweats, and simply turns to wave at the boys when they walk in, eyes still on the tv.

“Hi! I’m Arson”, says they pink-haired one, “And that’s Claire. She’s normally the active one, but it’s shark week so she’ll just lie there like that all day, useless”. She (they?) swiftly catches they pillow that’s been chucked at them, and grins. “Oh and Thalia’ll be out in a sec”.

“Your name’s Arson?” Lit asks, politely trying not to sound shocked or confused.

“Heh yeah. Of all the non-binary names someone like me could have picked, right?” They say, with a short laugh. “It was a close call between this, and Twig.”

“Her pronouns are she and they, btw”, Apollo says walking up from where he’d been talking to his sister, to envelop Arson in a hug, “Hey Ari!”

“Ah jeez. The hugging still isn’t over?” A raven haired girl says, walking into the now slightly crowded living room. “Well I’m Thalia. Do no touch me”. That last part was spit at Apollo. Her tone is menacing, but her little smirk shows otherwise.

“Hey Thalia”, Apollo says, reaching over to pat the red-head, Claire, on the shoulder, and ruffle her already ruffled hair. Please somebody comb it already!

“This is Lit, Apollo’s newest fling”, Artemis says, gesturing to the boy who looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to live here, or run away. He gives the room a shy smile. (Aww)

“Great! Now that we all know each other,” Get out of Pridelands? Sorry sorry. Just couldn’t miss out the opportunity to quote Lion King: Simba’s Pride. Artemis simply continues on with something about lunch and rotisserie chicken.

It’s been quite an uneventful couple hours, but oh, how could that possibly last? In a room full of people, half with names with mythological roots, and the one named after a crime? There’s bound to be some drama. No, calm down, there isn’t going to be a fire. Unless it’s Lit’s heart flaming for Apollo, or vice versa. ANYWAY I’m going way off script.

“So Lit, how’d you guys meet?” Claire asks around a mouthful of veggies, feet nestled comfortably on Arson’s lap. I’m starting to think they might be more than friends, but what do I know?

“Oh we had to do a project together. Obviously, we’d seen each other around before then, but yeah… that’s the first time we really interacted”, Lit answered, awkwardly trailing off at end, as if he thought he’d said to much. Seriously Lit? That was barely anything.

“And how long ago was that?” Arson asked.

“Uh-”

“About a month ago”, Apollo supplied, lacing his fingers through Lit’s, their hands clearly visible from the sofa they were seated on.

Lit’s adam’s apple bobbed, and he shifted slightly in his seat, but managed to keep calm, even lifting their conjoined hands into his lap.

“Huh. How long have you guys been together, then?” Thalia asked, staring to look interested.

“A couple weeks.” Apollo’s voice was calm, at startling odds with the red of his face.

“Oh?” Artemis said finally, her eyes moving from their linked hands, to Apollo’s face. “You move awfully fast brother.”

“Well, we both wanted it”, Lit tried to cut in. The sudden tension between the twins is so thick, even oblivious Lit notices.

Artemis ignores him and continues, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you moved this quickly?”

“Artemis, please”, Apollo says, starting to sound irritated, “You wanted me to stop fucking around, and I did. You seem to have a problem with everything I do.”

“Oh is that why you’re dating him? Because of me?” Oh shit… we’re getting awfully close to the truth now, huh?

“No. No, of course not”, Apollo lies quietly. Lit manages to discreetly untangle their fingers and pull away, looking a little hurt. “I like Lit”. So not all lies then? If only Lit knew that, then he’d stop looking like a kicked puppy.

“Just make sure he isn’t another Daphne”, Artemis says, a challenging look in her eyes.

“That was a mistake and you know it! When are you going to stop bringing it up?” Apollo spits angrily, before he gets up and walks out the front door.

Lit sits there in shock for a second, before deciding that an angry Apollo was easier to deal with that a room full of upset and curious people, and follows behind him. Damnit! I wanted to stay behind and listen to the gossip. Would you mind terribly if I did that?

Yea, I suppose you would.

Lit is leaning against the wall of the house, hands in his pockets, while Apollo leans over the porch railing, and stares at his car.

“So who’s Daphne?”

Apollo sighs in defeat, before saying, “My ex. One of my only two exes”. Then he turns around before almost hastily adding, “Exes being people I’ve actually dated, that is. Not just people I’ve slept with”.

“Of course. Of course you still care about your reputation as a fuckboy”, Lit says, sounding disappointed more than anything else. Look, I’m a sucker for drama, but what the hell is this?! I don’t like this.

“What? No”. Apollo sounds... scared? “No I’m just trying to be as clear as possible.”

Lit doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, why are you even mad? It’s not like we’re actually dating”.

“No.” Lit whispers, “We’re not”.

“Hey”, Apollo pleads, “I can’t handle you being mad at me too, Lit. I’m sorry you got dragged into this shit”.

Lit waves the apology away. “Why is Artemis so mad about Daphne?” If I were even a little less intuitive, I would’ve missed the hopeful tone of that question.

“Oh. Um- Daphne was one of Artemis’ best friends. That’s how we got close in the first place. Sometime last year, we started seeing each other, and eventually became official. We’d moved really quickly, and honestly didn’t have much in common except Artemis” And divinely good looks, if Apollo’s many flings are anything to go by. “But everything went great, nonetheless. Better than great, even. I started to think I loved her. Until it didn’t. Around the three month mark, things started to go sour. We’d disagree about pretty much everything, and we’d fight and argue all the time. Then it started to get monotonous and boring and we were just going through the motions. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I broke up with her, and…” That’s the one place he hesitates. “Left. I just left for college, and Artemis had to deal with Daphne, who apparently took it hard. I didn’t speak to her at all until just a few months ago.

We’re okay now, by the way. She says that I’m a better friend that boyfriend, and I can’t say I disagree. Lucky for you that we’re just faking it, right?” I notice the slight hitch in his voice, but Lit apparently doesn’t. He lets out a dry chuckle. “Artemis, on the other hand, is still obviously pissed. I don’t blame her. She said that Daphne only dated me at all because I seduced her. At first, I thought that was ridiculous, but if all the hoes on campus are anything to go by, it seems that was entirely possible”, he finishes bitterly. Well... that was quite a speech.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or exasperated by your unwavering level of self-confidence”, Lit says tiredly, after a brief pause. “Well that wasn’t as bad as I expected”.

“Yea, Artemis has been known to overreact”.

“I think her reaction was warranted”. Lit himself looks surprised at having defended Artemis.

“Maybe it was”, Apollo amends, eager to get back on Lit’s good side, I suppose. “You’re not still mad, are you?”

“I’m not mad at you, no” comes the curt reply, suggesting that he is still mad at something. This whole situation, probably. This trip was supposed to be romantic for God’s sake!

“Good, because we have a little party to attend this evening”.

#don't really know where i was going with this one tbh #litpollo #litpollo fanfiction #lityerses #apollo #toa apollo #trials of apollo #modern day au #riordanverse #angst #eh kinda

[lokis-daggers]

Untitled Thor/Loki brothers Fic (1/?)

As you can tell I suck at titles.

Prompt: Thor and Loki shenanigans before everything fell apart in Thor 1, Young adult teenage Thor and Loki. I'm not very well versed in Norse mythology, but I will try to be as accurate as possible.

Warnings: Hot/Cold, Fluff/Angst, Injuries (Whump, like a lot of it), Odin being the bag of shit that he was (abuse).

Poor grammar, tried my best to proofread, but please bare with me.

The wing was blowing through his hair, the smell of forest, mud and fresh rain all blended in the atmosphere covering the stench of sweat radiating from his body, Thor looked back and found his younger brother chasing him through the forest. "Where did you hide my book of enchantments mother gave me!?" Loki shouted from the top of his lungs, Thor smirked and simply continued running, he knew that Loki wasn't as fast a sprinter as he was, "Tell me what you were doing in fathers chambers last night and I'll give it back!" Thor turned around to check on the distance when he slipped on a patch of mud. Lokis eyes widened and took the chance to prance on top of his older, more muscular older brother. He took a branch from the ground, "Give it back now before I stab your eye out!" He gritted his teeth. Thor grabbed Loki by the collar and flipped him onto the ground, he took the branch from Lokis's hand and now had his elbow digging into Lokis's chest. Loki grunted in pain, surely the amount of pressure he was applying was only enough to restrain Loki not to hurt him so Thor was taken back when he heard the grunt of pain from his younger brother, he loosened his grip, "Just tell me what happened in fathers chambers!"

"Nothing! Nothing happened! I went to look for mother!" Loki shouted.

"You were in there for hours!" Thor shouted back.

"I needed help with a conjuring spell!" Loki lied.

"You're a terrible liar brother, Sif saw you exit the chambers last night looking defeated, she had thought that you might have gotten into a fight with Volstagg, but that was not the case." Thor picked him up from the ground and held him against a tree.

"Conjuring spells tire me out, I swear I was conspiring against you if that's what you worried about, now give me my book back!" Loki then took the chance to knee Thor in the groin.

Thor fell to the ground groaning in pain, "Jeez brother, that was uncalled for..." Thor held his hand in midair, the large leather-bound book then appeared. Loki took it back from his hand and walked away.

Thor picked himself back up and ran after his brother, "Do wanna join me hunting before dinner?" Thor asked him in a friendly tone.

"No." Loki walked faster.

"Come on brother! We all know you wanna come along, you can show off your dagger skills!"

"No."

"Loser."

Loki stopped in his tracks, "I beg your pardon"

Thor smirked, "Then beg."

Loki rolled his eyes and continued walking back to the palace.

"Sif is still telling everyone that her marksmanship is better than yours across the realms," Thor whispered into his ears tauntingly.

Loki laughed out loud, "Well you can tell her I'm going to show her true skills."

Thor picked up his steps and walked backwards in front of Loki, "Great! I'm taking that as a yes, meet at the city gates 2 hours before dinner!" Thor ran off into the village probably up to something stupid with the warriors three.

Loki dragged his feet back into his room, he calls it a room, but the size was comparable to a Midgardian middle school gymnasium. He plopped down by his desk and flipped through the pages of enchantments. The longer he sat in his chair the sorer he felt. He avoided the healer's chambers at all cost, worried that others would catch on about his mysterious ailments. He walked over to his bookshelf that was overflowing with books sprawled on the floor, he found a book of healing spells, he took the book to his bed and took his leather outer layer off, revealing the green shirt underneath, he lifted his shirt and saw the canvas of red and purple bruises, he sighed and held his right hand over the bruises to apply the spell, his hand glowed green as the pain faded away, the bruises remained. He pulled his shirt back down and rubbed his eyes, he was recalling how he got these bruises. Yesterday morning he was practicing his enchantments when he came up with an amazing idea. He was going to turn Thor into a frog. He baited his brother to the courtyard and when he was distracted he did exactly that, in a blink of an eye Thor was the size of his palm, after poking at his brother who was then a frog he tried to turn him back, but he couldn't, no matter how hard he focused on the spell he couldn't do it. He placed Thor into his pocket and ran to find his mother in the gardens, the issue was, the all-father was also there. Loki fell to his knees and asked his mother to turn his brother back, "Mother I am aware of my frivolous mistake, Can you please turn Thor back?"

Frigga looked to Odin and smiled, "You foolish child." Odin mumbled. Frigga waved her hand and the weight of his full-size brother fell on top of Loki, "Loki that was so cool!" Thor laughed. Frigga helped both her children up to their feet, "Now now, go and play."

Thor laughed and greeted his father goodbye before prancing off somewhere, Loki was about to follow him when Odin told, "Loki, I'll have a word with you later tonight." Loki bowed his head down and ran off to find Thor. Later that evening was standing outside of Odin's chamber. A guard opened the door for the young prince, when the doors closed, Loki felt a bash to the stomach. Odin and stomped him down onto his knees, "Do you know what you are being punished for, boy?" He asked in an ever so condescending tone.

"I was frivolous, foolish, I was not using my wits and caused a mess, I am truly sorry father."

Odin paced back and forth in front of Loki, "What would you have done if Frigga had not reversed your spell."

Loki hung his head low, "I promise father, it will not happen again" Odin swung Gungnir (His staff) towards Lokis's side, knowing to avoid his head to avoid visible injuries. Loki clenched his saw and continued kneeling. The hour or so he was being told off by Odin while taking a few kicks here nod there, by the time Odin got tired he ordered Loki back to his room. Loki hadn't noticed that Sif was right around the corner when he headed back to his room.

Loki closed the book of healing spells in front of him and sighed. This will all be worth it when he gets crowned king he thought to himself.

After some light reading, Loki walked over to his armoury and pulled out his set of daggers and his bow and arrow. He took his horse and headed towards the city gates. He made eye contact with Hogun first, he waved over to Loki, then so did the rest, Thor smiled from ear to ear when he spotted his brother. "Everyone's here!" Thor cheered. Fandral then asked, "So what are hunting today, elks?" Thor shook his head. "Even better Fandral, bandits." Thor was nodding his head. Everyone was taken back, Sif then spoke, "Wait, Thor, you don't mean the bandit camp in the southern forest do you?"

Thor cracked his knuckles and pointed to her, "Right on the nose. I heard father talking about their plan of rebellion and his plan to annihilate the camp with the guards, so I thought, what not a better idea than us going to annihilate the camp proving to Father and the nine realms what we are capable of!" No one else questioned his decision, but Loki. "Brother, I don't think that to be wise, if things go south we could be outnumbered the captured causing chaos in the palace. Then say that we do go and deafest the bandits, the fact that we are going on an unsanctioned palace mission will not make father happy."

Before Loki could begin his next sentence Thor was leading the others towards the southern forests. Loki has a moment of thought where he was going to go back to the palace to alert Odin, but then if Odin found that he left Thor and the others in the middle of the battlefield he would get the punishment of a lifetime, so he foolishly followed.

Thor didn't know what went wrong, one moment they had the upper hand and suddenly they were severely outnumbered, Thor looked around as he fended for himself to ensure that his friends and brother were okay.

Hogun was surrounded by the bandits Loki ran to his side to aid him, but Hogun was stabbed through his left shoulder, the sound of his scream as the blade ripped out of his flesh rang in Lokis ears, "Thor we need to go now!" Loki shouted, Sif ran over and assisted Hogun as Loki ran towards his foolish brother, he slew the bandits as he got closer and closer to Thor, "You idiot, we need to go now!" Loki grabbed onto Thor's shoulder, Thor had blood dripping down his face from a wound to the head, Loki didn't have time to worry about him as he physically dragged his brother back to the horses, Fandral was already running behind Hogun and Sif as he protected them from being attacked, Volstagg was surrounded, nowhere to run. Thor ran back and Loki had realized why, Loki gripped the twin daggers as he ran in to get Volstagg with Thor, at this point, it was 3 vs 20. Thor hoisted Volstagg up and fought his way through, Loki was right behind them, then Loki noticed a bandit aim an arrow right at Thor from between the Trees, Loki tried to conjure a shield of some sort, but it didn't work, when the arrow was released Loki pushed Thor down to the ground, Volstagg falling with him, Loki felt the pain of the arrow rip through him, his right side was on fire before Thor could form a sentence Loki pulled the arrow and aimed it with his bow, he shot the arrow wielding bandit through the eye and continued running. Once everyone was on the horses they raced back to the palace, no one had yet been alerted. It was now 20 minutes to dinner, Odin and Frigga would be in the great hall. Loki was holding a handkerchief to his wound, blood seeping through his fingers, instead of jumping off from his horse he practically fell off if Thor had not quickly caught him. "Loki, we need to get you to the healers," Thor said as ripped a piece of cloth from his cape to press against Loki. Lokis's eyes widened, "No, Thor please, no healers" It was the first time in a very long time that he heard Loki use the word please in a non-sarcastic tone. "Bring me to my room, I have a book of healing spells," Loki mumbled.

Thor dragged Loki to his room, while Frandrall and Sif got Hogun and Volstagg to the healer's chambers.

Thor sat Loki down on the bed, he was barely conscious, Thor found the book on Lokis's desk, Loki was pulling off his armour and shirt to reveal the bruising and scratches. Loki lifted the piece of cloth from his wound. "Brother, you look like absolute shit. I'm bringing mother." Thor turned for the door when Loki grabbed him by the wrist. "Brother, don't. I can handle this myself. Put your muscles to good use and cover my mouth." Loki cringed as the sentence sounded better in his head. Loki adjusted himself so he leaning against the headboard of the bed, he flipped to a page in the spellbook and repeated the phrase in his head, there was now a bright green glow from his hand, Thor placed his hand over Lokis mouth as Loki held his hand to the bleeding wound, Loki was screaming in his hand as Thor watch the skin mend back together and the bleeding stopped. Loki was his hand over scapes and bruises, Thor noticed that some of them were old, the bruising were a different shade of purple than the new ones on his arms, and the cuts had dried blood that was almost brown, he knew from past injuries himself that Loki did not obtain those today, it had to be at least a day old, but Loki was with him all at yesterday, then it dawned upon him, the only time they parted ways when Loki was in Odin's chamber. Thor looked back to Loki was still healing himself, his other hand gripping onto the bedsheets, the way his hand moved was all too familiar, rehearsed, he had practiced. When Loki finished he collapsed onto the bed, Thor was shaking him by the shoulders, "Loki, Loki? Are you okay?" Loki breathed heavily, his voice was hoarse, "I'm fine, I just need to rest, tell Mother and Father I will not be joining them for dinner, come up with an excuse." Loki relaxed onto his sheets. Thor sighed and fetched a palace guard outside of Lokis room, "Yes my prince?" the guard knelt onto one knee, "Inform mother and father that Loki and I are catching up on our studies and will not be joining them in the great hall this evening" Thor used his commanding voice. "Yes. Will that be all my prince."

"Yes."

Thor went to this room to change out of the blood-drenched armour and washed his face. He quickly went back to Lokis's room. He found his younger brother in the same position he had left him. Thor took a basin of hot water and wiped down the blood from his brother's face and body. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess, I guess you can say that we're even on the whole frog thing yesterday and you were right, about us not being able to handle the bandits, I knew you were right, but I just wanted to prove to father that we can do it, that we have what it takes to be king." Thor sighed as he changed Loki into clean clothes. Loki was completely knocked out and didn't hear a word Thor said. Thor adjusted Lokis's body so he was sleeping in the correct position, he covered him with the blanket and stared at Loki, "Were you always this small?" He whispered to himself. Thor sat on the floor at the end of the bed and thought back to when they were children, Loki had just learnt how to shapeshift and Thor was playing in the garden. Loki turned into a snake cause he knew how much Thor loved snakes, Thor immediately picked him up and played with him, Loki saw the opportunity to quickly turn back into his original form and stabbed him with a small dagger, it was nothing fatal, but it still hurt. The laugh that echoed from his little brother and the huge smile on his face will forever be recorded as Thor's favourite memory of child Loki. Thor remembered the small stab wound aching even after the healers applied medicine, he could only begin to imagine the pain Loki had endured when he took that arrow. Slowly as he recalled other memories Thor drifted off into slumber.

It was now the dead of night when Thor was woken by Loki, he was talking in his sleep, Thor ran to Loki, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. Loki was mumbling in his sleepy, at first Thor couldn't comprehend what he was saying, but then he heard, "Father... I'm sorry, I'm foolish, sorry..." Thor felt this anger bubbling inside him. Thor used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe Lokis face, "Loki, it's okay, fathers no here" Thor whispered to Loki, Thor grabbed the other pillow and placed it in between Lokis arms, he knew his brother loved to cuddle in his sleep when they were children and shared a room, Loki had an alligator toy that he cuddled with to sleep every night. He watched as Loki calmed down and fell back into a deep slumber. Thor looked out to the tall stained-glass windows and swore to never allow anyone to hurt his brother like this again.

Notes: Thanks for reading and I hope you excused all my grammar errors. I have a glimpse of what part 2 looks like. Hope to get it out as soon as possible. You are loved, I love you. Talk again soon! - Crystal.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x reader #thor #thor ragnarok #chris hemsworth #marvel #the avengers #mobius #thor x reader