#it would be more tolerable if you could choose your star sign instead of being assigned one at random

[wishingyouback]

everything he didn’t couldn’t say.

pairing: han jisung x reader // lee minho x reader

genre: fluff, angst & one sided love (?)

summary: you can never choose who you fall for, but sometimes minho wished that he could just to stop the aching pain he had growing in his chest every time he caught the sight of you in the arms of another that weren’t his. 

The group of boys were hanging out in their living room, their dorm being their only safe haven from the chaos of their college life. not even the cafe by campus could help satisfy their cravings or provide them the same sort of comfort that their home did.

Jisung was sat on the edge of the armrest of the sofa as he watched his friends fight over the playstation controllers that were limited to three instead of four since Hyunjin had forgotten to plug in it’s charger, resulting in one less player for their game of Tekken. As the hazel haired boy watched in amusement, he couldn’t help but jump to his feet at the sound of their doorbell ringing, indicating that the guest he invited and so badly waited for, had arrived.

The young boy screamed out a “I got it!” as he jogged up to the door, ignoring the teasing remarks his best friends let out behind him in the living room. Clearing his throat and brushing down his favourite sweater he knew you liked on him to rid of any crumpled state, he pulled open the door with a wide smile plastered on his face until he locked eye contact with a face he was all too familiar with, and frowned — visibly and noticeably.

“gee don’t look too excited,” Minho scowled as he carried a bag of snacks in his hand.

Jisung could only roll his eyes and open the door wider to let his best friend into his dorm, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and went to grumble by himself. It wasn’t until before he could take his third step that he heard a angelic voice call out for him from behind Minho that he was quick to run back to the door with another grin on his face.

Minho helped you with the snacks the both of you decided to get for the boys then held back a curse word he was ready to let out when he saw Jisung. Though they were best friends, he could definitely sense the bias between him and you. To Jisung, Minho was still his best friend but you were his girlfriend, and he had a soft spot for you — like he should, Minho thought. As he moved out of the way, Minho glanced back to see you greeting Jisung with a warm hug and silently wished he were the one receiving it.

Jealousy was a curse — Minho thought. But still, he moved reluctantly when you gave him a smile that said you were more than fine. He knew it was selfish to pine over your best friend’s girl, but he was a little too stubborn and a little greedy to realise it. Minho would never let his emotions get the best of him, but seeing you with Jisung somehow made it hard. He knew you longer and he believed he knew you best. He loved Jisung like a brother, but jealousy was an ugly trait he never realised he had deep inside of him until he saw Jisung kiss you under the tree at the park.

Where Minho first met you six years ago.

Before he realised it, Minho saw that It went from him and you to him, Jisung and you to just Jisung and you and occasionally, him.

The older boy tried endless amount of times to fight the feeling. Heck he even considered applying to see the college counsellor to snap himself out of it, but every time he thought he was over you, his feelings only continued to grow and he was getting tired of it. It was tiring to keep thinking of you — thinking about what you would be doing today, knowing more than he should that you would be with Jisung. Minho was exhausted, but like any friend would do, he tolerated it and ignored his own feelings no matter how badly he was yearning for you.

While Minho was busy battling his inner conflicts, Jisung was busy wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him as you sat in the comfort of his arms in the corner of the sofa the three boys left unoccupied. Jisung conversed casually with Hyunjin while Chan and Felix were busy trying to set up the console they brought over. Minho, however, was still caught up in his thoughts in the kitchen that he didn’t realise the big fuss happening in the living room until you decided to get up and get a drink, not expecting to see Minho standing by the kitchen counter with his head in his hands.

“Hey,” you gently tapped Minho’s shoulder. The raven haired boy slowly pulled himself out of his thundering thoughts and turned to look at you with a grin.

The older boy, who you spent most of your years spilling all your secrets to, who has also seen the worst side and prettiest side of you and still decided to stay, stared at you as if you held the world in your eyes and the only way you could describe his gaze on you now was — warm. his eyes looked as if he held the stars and like a secret, he was slowly letting you in on what he had been so scared to show you in a long time.

Which was why after that, you stayed quiet and smiled sweetly in return, liking the way the both of you never felt awkward or stuffy in an environment most people could describe as tension. After a moment, with you getting a cup of water and a chocolate bar for Jisung who you knew would be craving for one soon, you stood across from Minho and mirrored his actions.

“What’s wrong? The boys bother you again or did Hyunjin eat your favourite snack?” You asked with a teasing smile.

To Minho, he could answer that truthfully and say he was just thinking about you, but he knew better than to try and flirt with a girl who was taken.

He only shrugged and poked your nose, “if he did he wouldn’t be here right now.” He grinned widely, trying to hide the way he felt. “Why’re you so nosy?” He joked.

You could only laugh, rolling your eyes as you did so which made Minho’s usual steady heart, skip a beat at two at the sudden action. When he cleared his throat and covered it with a throaty laugh, you took it as a sign to pull him into the living room where the four boys were now laughing at something Chan did as they played their game.

Minho, deciding it was best to divert his attention away from the couple, sat beside Chan and was more than grateful when he offered him a game — it helped him forget about the situation he was in and definitely occupied his mind away from you. As he accepted the consoler from Chan’s hand, you took your spot next to Jisung and easily slipped your arm through his to link your arms together and cling closer to him.

Jisung’s eyes were focused on the game at hand, but the sudden affection from you did not go unnoticed and naturally, he slipped his fingers through yours to lace them together; making your heart flutter and your face heat up annoyingly quick. Hyunjin saw this and jokingly gagged, while Felix gushed over the two of you. Jisung paid no attention to that and only ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

Minho, who was busy choosing his character, stole a glance and noticed the way both of your hands fit so perfectly together. It was like your hands were a constant reminder from the Gods above that you chose Jisung instead of him. Except, you didn’t have to choose and you weren’t aware of Minho’s affection towards you. Minho concluded that the Universe had something against him and was waiting for him to crack any single moment now — he could not catch a break.

Subconsciously, Minho’s hands clenched the consoler tight; making the veins on his hands become more evident.

Shit, was what Chan thought and moved to divert everyone’s attention to the characters on Jisung’s screen — pointing out the tiniest details that usually would not mean much, but this time meant a lot. 

Chan was aware of the feelings Minho acquired for you, in fact, he was the first person Minho told. It was in the spur of the moment and Minho was drunk, but still Minho informed his older friend that he didn’t regret telling him and only continued to ask for advice which Chan gave without a second thought. Chan loved all three of you so the best he could do was try to keep the situation as calm as possible. Minho was patient, responsible and rational — he would never act out of impulse, but still Chan would look out for him and Minho was more than thankful to have a friend like him.

When you laughed at something Felix said, Minho visibly calmed down and continued the conversation easily, acting as if he wasn’t annoyed or bothered by how the two of you were acting.

“You good?” Was what Chan asked subtly behind the cup of water he was about to drink out of. Minho cleared his throat, looked at Chan and nodded.

Taking it as a good sign, Chan continued choosing his character and Minho went back to playfully bickering with the others present in the room; you included.

Jisung smiled at his group of his friends, enjoying the way everything just felt so right with you right beside him. 

What more could he ask for than this? His best friends and you, his favourite person next to him laughing and just having fun. But as he glanced at his best friend from across the room, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry wash over his body.  

Call it a gut feeling or Jisung’s wild imagination, but there was a small voice in the back of his head that was constantly reminding him that there was something hiding in the mind of his older friend. The blonde wanted strongly to believe that it was only him being paranoid and that the both of them would go back to the way they were before, but a small gut feeling convinced Jisung otherwise and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face what Minho was hiding from him; something deeper.

A lot, deeper.

a/n: one of my first ever works of skz that i’ve put out into the world (?), instead of letting it sit in my drafts so i hope you like & enjoy it! <3 don’t forget to vote, & support them on kingdom! xx

#stray kids scenarios #han jisung #lee know #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #stray kids #jisung fluff #minho imagines #jisung imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #leeknow fluff #han jisung fluff #lee minho #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #lee felix

[miraculouswolf99]

Miraculous Lemonade (Song Fic)

I love the movie Lemonade Mouth and thought that the favoritism shown to the athletes over everyone else on the movie was similar to the favoritism shown to those with high-ranking parents in Miraculous Ladybug. So, an idea instantly formed in my mind. Includes my original characters Lyon and Vallia Garden.

*****

Adrien sat in the park outside of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, eating with is two friends from Greece, Lyon and Vallia Garden. The two were doing an exchange program that helped students from other countries experience other cultures. They spoke fluent French, so they came to Paris. Adrien met them years ago when his family went to a charity fashion show that was held at the animal and nature sanctuary that Lyon and Vallia’s family owned.

The three may be a “little” annoyed with what had just happened at school. Lila “Liar” Rossi had framed Marinette for cheating, assault, and theft. Adrien made, what he called, a “deal with the devil” to get Marinette back in school. But it seemed that after her first few days back, Marinette’s parents decided it was better for her to go to an arts school instead of Dupont. 

What infuriated the trio the most was that the school made no effort to investigate any of Lila’s accusations. There was no checking the security footage, no dusting for fingerprints, not even any hearing of Marinette’s side of the story. They simply took Lila at her word and some easily framed evidence to expel the best student at Dupont. It made them all furious.

“You know the favoritism shown at your school is appalling, right,” Vallia raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend.

Adrien sighed. “I know, I know. But what could I do about it? I’m the son of a fashion designer, not a politician like Chloe.”

“That brat’s a part of the problem, anyway,” Lyon scoffed. “The entire school was punished and she is the only one that gets out of it? I’ve seen less corrupt politicians in Gotham, and that says something.”

“I know people criticize me for being Chloe’s friend, but would you two give up a friend that you’ve had since you were a kid,” Adrien asked them.

“Honestly, no,” Vallia said. “We get how you feel, Adrien, but one day Chloe will do something unforgivable and you will have to choose between her and your other friends.”

“I think I chose a while ago but just didn’t want to admit it,” Adrien says. “Chloe had her chance to be a better person when she was Queen Bee. But even after getting to be a hero, she still got her father, Sabrina, and Aurore akumatized.”

“Is there anyone she hasn’t akumatized,” Lyon crossed his arms.

“Out of all our class, only Marinette and I have not been akumatized,” Adrien says. “And for everyone that has, only Max, Nino, and Lila were not akumatized by her.”

“Well, Lila being akumatized was probably her own fault anyway,” Lyon shrugged. “She lies with every breath she takes and one of them probably bit her in the butt at one time or another.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys yet, have I,” Adrien thought he had told them already.

“Told us what,” Vallia asked.

“You two were not here when she had her real first day,” Adrien tells them. “Lila lied on Alya’s blog about being Ladybug’s best friend. She had met me after school and tried to lie about not only being the descendant of a hero but also being the holder of the fox miraculous.”

“Seriously,” Lyon raised an eyebrow. “She was actually that stupid? Why not just put up a giant light-up sign that says ‘Hawkmoth, come and attack me,’ with her address written in neon.”

“If she hasn’t been targeted, Hawkmoth probably knows that she’s a liar,” Vallia said.

Adrien nodded. “During our conversation, Ladybug herself showed up. She probably saw Lila’s interview because she immediately called Lila out for her lies. Ladybug obviously hates liars as much as Marinette. Lila ran away and the next thing I know, she is breaking into my house while akumatized as Volpina and once again claiming to be a hero.”

“So that’s how you know she’s a liar,” Vallia understood now. “But why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because at the time she was only lying to get attention and friends,” Adrien said. “Have you seen my class, we’re all special in a lot of ways. Alya runs the most popular blog in Paris. Nino gets a lot of attention as a DJ. Juleka, Rose, and Ivan are members of a band that has been getting a lot of attention lately. Rose is friends with Prince Ali. Chloe is the mayor’s daughter. I am a model and the face of my dad’s brand. Even Marinette knows Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and has impressed my father and Chloe’s Style Queen of a mother with her designs. Compared to all of us, Lila’s lies are not that unbelievable.”

Vallia and Lyon actually see where he was coming from. Being surrounded by people her own age and yet they have accomplished so much, it made sense why Lila would want to lie about herself like that.

“But then she took things too far, right,” Lyon asked his friend.

Adrien nodded. “Once she came back from her, so called, trip to Achu, she started using her lies to manipulate the class, which you guys have seen. She lied about having tinnitus so she could sit next to me, lied about having a sprained wrist to get Kim to carry her lunch tray, she even lied about having an allergy to tomatoes to make Rose take them out of her salad for her.”

“Isn’t that why she was akumatized into Chameleon,” Vallia remembered Adrien telling them. “You told her to stop lying.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “When she suddenly left for her ‘trip,’ I saw no reason to humiliate her by telling people about Ladybug calling her out. Plus, it’s not like they had any reason to believe me since none of them ever believed Marinette when she told them that Lila is a liar.”

“And it does not help that no one in school ever tries to actually fact-check her stories,” Lyon rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like it’s hard, either,” Vallia agreed with her brother. “Jagged Stone published his autobiography three months ago. There is no mention of a cat, a plane crash, or anyone named Lila in the entire book. It even specifically says that he had Fang, his crocodile, since he was twenty. That is fifteen years that he has had him.”

“I know, I know, my school is full of the most gullible people in Paris,” Adrien sighed. “And now that Marinette is gone, it seems like Chloe and Lila have teamed up and are ruling the school with iron fists. I can barely get a minute without one of them hanging off my arm.”

“And it’s not like any of the teachers or Damocles are doing anything,” Lyon says. “I’ve seen you, ask, request, and even demand for them to let go of you and they never do. You’ve even done it in front if some teachers and none of them ever did anything.”

“It’s the daughter of the mayor and the daughter of a diplomat,” Vallia sighed. “They will, most likely, never do anything. Even if it involves the son of a rich fashion designer.”

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” Adrien sounded defeated. “Damocles is too afraid of losing money from the mayor and it’s not like Chloe and Lila are ever going to change.”

He was rubbing his very sore and bruised upper right arm, which Lila had been holding onto very tightly for most of the school day. And he knew that he would also probably have to deal with more of her harassment at the next photoshoot that he has with her.

“But... can even Damocles deny change when the entire school is rallied against him and those like him,” Lyon smirked.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Lyon, and I am in total agreement,” Vallia brightly smiled.

“Uh... mind cluing me in, guys,” Adrien was completely lost.

“Well, you know that Lyon and I are friends with Clara Nightingale,” Vallia started.

Adrien nodded. When the pop star had come to Paris to shoot her “Miraculous” music video, she had basically tackled the twins when she saw them. Apparently, she had met them years ago when she did a charity concert at their family sanctuary and even now treated the two like they were younger siblings to her.

“Clara had told us the reason why she started performing in the first place,” Lyon continued for his sister. “When she was our age, she attended a high school that focused entirely on athletics and nothing else. To the point where all other extracurriculars were pushed into the basement with no budget for any of them. So she used her music to spread the massage of what was happening. She wound up getting a sponsor for the music program that built an entire auditorium for her school even when the principal tried to deny it.”

“So, she basically started a music revolution,” Adrien summed up.

“Exactly,” Vallia says. “We can do the same here. Use music to show that not everyone tolerates the favoritism. It should prove more of a problem since all three of us are rich but also see it as a problem.”

“We should probably also add those that are not like us,” Adrien says. “Kitty Section could help, plus Luka and Juleka are not under Lila’s spell.”

“But Rose and Ivan are,” Lyon reminded. “Without them, we would not have a drummer or a singer. Vallia and I can sing, but neither of us play the drums. I’m classically trained on the violin and Vallia doesn’t play any instrument.”

“Kim plays the drums,” Vallia said. “And when Lila got Marinette expelled, he snapped out of her spell.”

“Guess we have our plan,” Adrien says. 

“We’ll talk with Nathaniel and Marc,” Lyon said. “They can spread it to the rest of the school and we will soon have as much support as we will need before we perform and get the Board of Education involved.”

“But what about your father, Adrien,” Vallia was worried about her friend’s ‘stick-in-the-mud’ of a parent. “He would never agree with you being a part of any type of revolution.”

“Well, my father will just have to deal with it,” Adrien shrugged. “Plus, I can always spin it to make it look good for the brand when my fans see it as me trying to help those that are neglected because they are not rich.”

The twins smirked as they walked off to get their friends in on their plan.

*****

Luka and Juleka were more than happy to use music to change Dupont for the better. Luka went to an arts school, but Juleka wanted a normal school and she was currently regretting her choice. Kim was also very glad to finally be able to show that he was more than just a jock and that he was about more than just dares and jokes. Seeing the bruises that Lila and Chloe had been leaving on Adrien’s arms just motivated them even more.

They decided to give their performance at a school dance that was coming soon. The entire school would be there. And when they talked to Marc, his class’s president Aurore contacted the Board of Education and they were going to send a few members to check out the problem.

“You guys ready,” Luka asked them as he picked up his guitar. 

“Ready as we will ever be,” Juleka answers.

“I’m just glad to finally be able to stick it to the man,” Kim grins brightly.

“The song you guys chose is certainly a good one,” Adrien looks at Lyon and Vallia.

“What can we say, we love American Disney movies,” Vallia smirked. “Makes us glad that we’re fluent in english.”

The dance got dark, allowing them to get onto the stage that was set up for them. They had convinced Damocles to let them perform, saying they had an important message to give out with their music. Since three of the performers were rich, he let them. It did not go unnoticed how he had rejected Kitty Section when they had wanted to perform at the last dance even when they had told him the same thing.

Adrien stood behind the keyboard as Kim sat at the drums while Juleka picked up her bass and Luka stood with his guitar. Lyon was taking the lead singing position while Vallia was back-up vocals and running their “special” effects. They all had their own mics for them they took turns singing their verses. They were going to get their message out whether people at Dupont wanted it to or not.

Adrien was just glad he managed to avoid both Lila and Chloe since there was no way either of them would have let go of him and let him perform. But after this, he hoped to never have to deal with either of them ever again.

The music started, the spotlights shining down on them. Lyon took the lead and began.

Lyon- “Hear it getting louder, a call for revolution Yeah, we came for what was ours, it's time for restitution We'll protect our own, take back the stone No, human nature cannot hold us down.” Luka- “Stranded at the bottom, but we're more than a whisper No, we'll never be forgotten, our blood's thicker than silver, yeah When worlds collide, it's do or die So tell me, is it wrong to stand your ground?” Lyon+ Luka- “Hear us howl, all or nothing Fangs are out, we ain't running Hear us howl, it's all or nothing.” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

Lyon gave a wink to his sister and she started the real part of the show. With members of the board in the audience, this was going to force some changes to be made. 

She pressed a button, images and videos started showing on the giant screen behind them. If they could see the board members, they would have seen some very furious faces.

All of the images were of destroyed property, bruises or scratches on people, and even of old things like the destroyed make-up bag that Chloe took a marker to. Then was the clear message when pictures of Lila and Chloe were shown with GUILTY under their pictures then with pictures of the school staff with DOES NOTHING under them.

Lila, Chloe, and Damocles were all white as ghosts.

Vallia- “The world has gone crazy and no one seems to listen Gotta step in, no more maybes, and stop the demolition Is it hope or fear? Look in the mirror Everything we built is coming down.” Juleka- “No more hesitation, it's time we start to realize With all this separation, silence is still taking sides So use your voice, make a choice And tell me, are you standing with the crowd?” All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.” Then videos were played on the screen. The first were from the day that Marinette was expelled. It was footage from the school security cameras that they got when Markov, the ever helpful AI, hacked into them when the group asked for his help. He was more than happy to help slap some sense into Max.

It clearly showed Lila taking the test answers and putting them in Marinette’s bag. It also showed her fake falling down the stairs and placing her necklace into Marinette’s locker. The video moved on to showing all the times that her or Chloe would grab onto Adrien and would never let go no matter how many times he told them to. The video also showed it happening in front of teachers and they never did anything.

More videos showed Chloe bullying, destroying other art projects that were not her own, and even all the things she did that got most of the class akumatized when it happened on school grounds. They also got videos from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and every other celebrity that Lila lied about. All of them saying they had never met Lila in their lives. All six- “Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy We say no more bad blood, no more bad blood Ayy, ayy, ayy ayy No way, they can't stop us, no, they can't stop us.”

More videos and photos identified every bully in the school. Each and every single one of them being rich, or have influential parents that Damocles was afraid of, or both. The other students all gathered near the stage, showing their support to the band and hardly anyone supporting the staff or the bullies. Alya was still speechless over Lila’s lies being revealed and what she had said to Marinette in “defense” of Lila. Sabrina was also pale as she remembered everything that Chloe ever made her do, like stealing Marinette’s diary and locking Juleka in the bathroom. Adrien- “History changes, but we lost the pages we wrote When you lose direction, can't see the reflection you know We came from the bottom then became the problem Now everything's out of control So hey, are you with me? Let's go!”

The students cheered and danced as the band all sang. They all knew that they were now going to finally be free of the bullies and liars that have been plaguing their lives for years. All six- “Oh oh oh oh This is a declaration Oh oh oh oh Of a new generation It's now or never, we're in this together We'll fight through the highs and the lows No, we won't break, we're more than flesh and bone.”

The band finished with a bang, staring down the staff with cold eyes that said that they regretted nothing. Everyone they stared as were about as pale as a person could be.

After the dance, the Board of Education members brought everything that they had learned and seen to the rest of the board. Actions were immediately taken over the weekend. There was an intense investigation into the school and every member of the staff. Not that surprising, but Mendeleiev was the only staff member that never did anything wrong but was constantly blocked from doing anything by the other staff members.

Damocles was revealed to have been using money granted to the school for things like locker upgrades and new textbooks for his Owl gear instead. Plus he was also found out to be taking many bribes from parents of the bullies to not only keep them from being punished but to also increase their grades if they were low. He was fired immediately.

Bustier also faces a lot of consequences. When the investigation was made known, dozens of her old students came forward. It was revealed that her methods have caused all of them pain. She had spent years coddling the bullies and punishing the victims. Many ended up in therapy while the bullies usually ended up in jail for mostly violent crimes. She had her teaching license revoked and was blacklisted from ever teaching again.

The rest of the staff were all suspended until they finished courses about how to deal with bullies, how to properly run a classroom, as well as all of them having to pay finds.

All of the bullies were either expelled or suspended, depending on how horrible they were. A lot of them were having to repeat the grade because of how much their parents had spent to keep their grades up while they did hardly any work. 

Alya, while being sued for the lies she posted on her blog, did not do anything else beyond cyber bullying of Marinette. But that did get her another lawsuit from her former best friend’s parents as well as being suspended from school for a week. Her parents forced her to delete the Ladyblog.

Chloe and Lila were, of course, the worst of them all.

Chloe ended up expelled and it was found out that she was also banded from every private school in the city because of how well her bullying habits were known. Her father was also facing multiple accusations of abuse of power because of how he handled problems that his daughter caused. Chloe could also hardly ever leave the hotel without being sneered or yelled at by literally everyone in Paris.

Lila was not only expelled, but also had giant finds placed on her after she was arrested for her months of truancy. Every celebrity she had ever lied about was also suing her for slander, defamation, and libel. It was also revealed that her mother had taken away her diplomatic immunity once she had learned about all the lies that her daughter told her and everyone around her. Her reputation as a liar has spread all throughout France and she will never be able to use her schemes ever again. Her mother makes sure to inform all her future teachers and principals about her lying and bullying habits.

All while this is happening, the new band clinks their glasses together as they cheers for a job well done. And if Adrien also happens to be kissed by a certain Greek lead singer, that is just a bonus for him.

#lila salt #Lila exposed #alya salt #chloe salt #original character #music #lemonade mouth #z.o.m.b.i.e.s. #disney #damocles salt #bustier salt

[thosch3i]

The finale of Ultimate Note airs 12/9 (tonight in China) for VIP. Thank you to this drama for bringing me my favorite Iron Triangle ❤ Longer discussion of why I love it so much, and why I strongly recommend it to book fans (especially those upset with certain previous adaptations) below the cut, apologies if it’s not fully coherent at times because I haven’t slept enough and also it’s almost 1am. But your TLDR is basically: characterization, plot, pacing, relationships are the best of any DMBJ drama. Iron Triangle especially.

First, the pacing of this show is excellent. Pretty much all cdramas I’ve seen or heard of have been inundated with filler, and the previous DMBJ dramas fall victim to this as well. Ultimate Note took 36 episodes to cover 4 book arcs, whereas previous adaptations have taken more episodes to cover far fewer. There’s really not any content you’d be wanting to skip, as almost all of it is plot-relevant or character-relevant.

Second, the plot is the most cohesive out of any DMBJ adaptation. Frankly, this isn’t saying too much, given the novel plot can also be confusing as all hell sometimes, but Ultimate Note goes above and beyond in pulling in information from later books and, if I heard correctly, common fan theories, doing their best to fill in the plot holes left by the author to create a more complete story.

Third, the female characters are actually done well. (As well as they can be, given the source material’s unfortunate habit of fridging its women.) For example, A-Ning’s decision to go the Tamutuo wasn’t because she was ~in love~ with some man. She is a determined individual who has made her choice about her path a long time ago, and she is willing to risk death to achieve her goals. Even her death was done about as well as it could have been--it wasn’t drawn out to the point of it being sickeningly cheesy, and Wu Xie tried his best to honor her goals and bring her to the Palace of the Queen Mother of the West (even emphasizing to Pangzi, “if you died, I would carry you too”). In addition, Chen Wenjin wasn’t stuck in some ridiculous love triangle. She loved Wu Sanxing, of course, but her loving a man isn’t made out to be her entire personality. Her goodbye to Xie Lianhuan is poignant but not mushy. She’s steady and sure in her goals, and she knows what she has to do in order to save herself. Yuncai’s character, as well, I think was handled about as well as it could’ve been given the source material. Her relationship with Pangzi wasn’t overexaggerated and nauseating, and I think their relationship was more tolerable in the drama than it was in the novel overall. (In addition, I prefer how they handled her death in the drama versus the novel--instead of just killing her offscreen, they give her a redemption, and show how she’d grown attached to her new friends, Pangzi especially, resulting in her hesitation to deal the final blow.)

Related to the above point: no added forced romances that destroyed the female characters’ personalities and reduced them to just love interests for men, thank god. Pangzi and Yuncai’s relationship was already there in the novel, but nothing about their relationship was distorted in the drama to the point of being annoying, and Yuncai is shown to have her own goals for cozying up to Pangzi (at first, at least). If you want to get technical about “added romances”, you could honestly argue that it’s Pingxie. (And Hei///hua, but I’ll be honest and say they’re not my cup of tea, so I won’t really be discussing them. However, I do think their characters, while also exaggerated for humor at points, were also done well, and their relationship--while AFAIK was not a really a thing in the books at all?--was written in a way that the development made sense, and their personalities compatible.)

But anyway, while Ultimate Note does make Pingxie seem closer to each other than they were in the novel, we do have to remember that the novel is from Wu Xie’s point of view, and he’s a little bit of a blockhead when it comes to noticing how much Xiaoge cares about him. (IIRC, he wonders if Xiaoge even considers him a friend in Zang Hai Hua...after Xiaoge’s literally called him his “only connection” to this world in book 8.) However, from an outsider POV, it’d be natural for us to see Xiaoge worrying more over Wu Xie. Because from Wu Xie’s perspective, what did he actually see? Xiaoge dropping in to save him a few times and often vanishing or turning away right after, leaving Wu Xie with mixed feelings and confusion about his value to Xiaoge. Xiaoge being aloof before they set off to Tamutuo, claiming that he is a person with no past and future, and that no one would remember him if he disappeared. (Xiaoge smiles before telling Wu Xie that he’s on Wu Xie’s side--that’s a smile that the viewers see, but that Wu Xie doesn’t.) Most of Xiaoge’s visible worry for Wu Xie in the desert was also when Wu Xie himself was not there to see it. During the scene where the fungus was growing in Wu Xie’s stomach, he was entirely out of it while Xiaoge visibly panicked about hurting him, and after the fungus was dealt with, Xiaoge only stood off to the side--only to smile faintly to himself, relieved, after Wu Xie wakes up. (Again a smile that the viewers see, but that Wu Xie doesn’t.) But because from an outsider POV we can see all this, while Wu Xie remains partly ignorant, lines like “thankfully, I didn’t bring death upon you” and Xiaoge calling Wu Xie is only connection to the world seem that much more logical, now that we can see some of the depth and development of how much Xiaoge does care about Wu Xie.

That brings me to the primary reason why I love Ultimate Note, because the main selling point for me on any franchise is not actually world-building or plot, but rather the characters and the relationships between those characters. And for DMBJ, the relationship I’m always looking for--and the relationship that the entire franchise ultimately centers around--is the Iron Triangle. And the mutual trust and the strength of the bond between this Iron Triangle is unmistakable; no one is treated as expendable.

As much as we have joked about Xiaoge's double standards with Wu Xie versus Pangzi, the end of the Banai arc especially and the last five episodes have cemented the importance of Xiaoge and Pangzi's friendship. Their relationship is often the weakest leg of the Iron Triangle in DMBJ adaptations, but Ultimate Note has nailed it. Pangzi helps carry Xiaoge out of Tamutuo, and Pangzi's the one who primarily takes care of Xiaoge after he loses his memories. There's also Xiaoge's clear worry over Pangzi after Yuncai's death, and his assurance that Pangzi won't die as long as he is here in the later episodes when the two of them are separated from Wu Xie--showing that the Iron Triangle is a triangle; Wu Xie isn't the single connection that Xiaoge and Pangzi's relationship hinges upon.

Pangzi and Wu Xie's friendship doesn't need much explaining: the two of them bicker like they're brothers, and they could probably star in their own buddy-cop comedy together. Both Pangzi and Xiaoge are shown to be clearly worried for Wu Xie after the Xie Lianhuan reveal, and even though neither of them quite know how to handle it, they are there for Wu Xie. And of course, there's the scene where Pangzi pours out the water while they're waiting for Xiaoge to leave the meteorite. Wu Xie cries for Pangzi when they're in the Miluotuo cave and he chooses to carry out Xiaoge first, and once again, his worry for Pangzi after Yuncai's death is palpable. Even when Wu Xie has to leave Pangzi in Banai, he instructs Xiaoge to look after him (not that Xiaoge really needed the instruction, anyway--that’s his best friend, too).

Wu Xie and Xiaoge's relationship needs even less explaining: anyone who's watched the show can attest to how much they care about each other. From Wu Xie's frantic scrambling to grab the tapes upon hearing they were from "Zhang Qiling" and Xiaoge's introduction in the show being him stopping outside Wushanju to stare up (longingly?) at the sign, we see their relationship unfold in all of its quiet pining and lingering looks. When Xiaoge claims no one would know if he disappeared from this world, Wu Xie doesn't hesitate in promising that he, at least, will. Xiaoge smiles before telling Wu Xie that he's on his side, and Wu Xie vows to walk with Xiaoge until the very end. During the entire Tamutuo trip, Xiaoge is visibly worried for Wu Xie--when the parasitic fungus grew in his stomach, that worry was the most clear. But Wu Xie worries for Xiaoge too: insisting on going to save Xiaoge from the snakes that night when they all went blind; swearing that even if he faces death, he would wait for Xiaoge to leave the meteorite; telling Xiaoge that he will take him home. (Related: the soft, almost vulnerable way Xiaoge tells Wu Xie “take me home” in episode 31.) Not to mention--even when Xiaoge loses his memories, he still remembers Wu Xie. (And Pangzi smiles knowingly right after that scene.)

There are too many character/relationship moments I could write about, but one that stuck out in particular was when they were facing the spiders, and Wu Xie stopped Xiaoge from cutting his hand and using his blood to make the spiders retreat. At this point, Wu Xie and Pangzi don't know the extent of how Xiaoge was (mis)treated as a child (and used as a blood bag, apparently), but they know about how "A-Kun" was captured used as bait. Wu Xie and Pangzi would never ask Xiaoge to bleed for them, no matter what. Not now, let alone 10+ years later. (I won't name names, but if you know what I'm talking about, then you know.)

Which brings me to my main point: the characters in Ultimate Note are the closest to their novel selves I have ever seen in a DMBJ adaptation, and this is objectively the best adaptation of the DMBJ novel. (Whether you prefer another adaption or not is your opinion--I absolutely love the Time Raiders movie, even though that plot is literally all over the place, and Xiaoge is decently OOC--but Ultimate Note is the best adaptation of the novel, and the characters are the most true to what they actually should be.)

You can see the innocent and naïve Wu Xie, but you can also see the developing confusion, frustration, and anger he feels because he's been lead around by his nose his entire life. And he is angry in the novel; he is a bit of a hot-headed bastard; he's not just a naïve child. I remember seeing some complaints that Wu Xie felt "OOC" in the first episode for being so furious with his San-shu, but I think his reactions were spot-on with how he felt, and how he wanted to react. A similar point is the scene where Wu Xie slammed Xiaoge against the car--aside from just being some fun fanservice, in the novel Wu Xie really was furious at Xiaoge for vanishing on him and never contacting him after leaving the Heavenly Palace in the Clouds. A lot of the novel is Wu Xie's inner thoughts, which are difficult to portray in a live action adaptation, but he really did pretty much want to pick a fight with Xiaoge about disappearing, and  Ultimate Note decided on how to express this frustration in a way that suits a drama adaptation. In addition, you can see how Wu Xie’s past experiences like the trip to Tamutuo has changed him in how he manipulates Panma into bringing him to the lake; and you can see how almost losing Xiaoge and Pangzi to the Miluotuo changed him as well, when he thinks he’s lost them for real in episode 36 (leading up to his decision to put on his San-shu’s mask by the end, despite the fact that “some masks, when worn too long, can no longer be taken off”).

As for Pangzi: even though he has scenes that were clearly exaggerated for comic relief, he has plenty of moments that build his character and the Iron Triangle’s bond. These include him pouring out the water while he and Wu Xie are waiting for Xiaoge, his grief over Yuncai’s death, his standing by Wu Xie during the hotel auction scene, and his almost mother-hen-like worry about Xiaoge while they’re entering the Zhang Family Mansion in the last five episodes. Not to mention, he’s really quite a smart and perceptive character, despite his goofiness: he sees through Xiaoge’s worry about Wu Xie, and he knows when to step in and liven the atmosphere (see: Wu Xie being all awkward about his gift to Xiaoge in episode 31, and Pangzi being there practically just for emotional support). Also in episode 31: Pangzi telling Xiaoge that he’s getting more and more humane (the implications about Wu Xie here are pretty obvious). All in all, Pangzi is a funny person; he is often comic relief, but he’s also a steadfastly loyal friend and someone who loves deeply and without regret. Initially we saw more of his humor, but we definitely got the depths to his character by the end of Ultimate Note.

Finally Xiaoge, who I’m discussing last because he’s my favorite character: for once, I can see the humanity behind the title “Zhang Qiling”, and in a way that isn’t OOC. Xiaoge isn’t treated as a free source of bug-repelling blood; he isn’t treated as some overpowered, untouchable idol; he isn’t treated as a rescue machine for whenever another character needs it. He is a human, not a god. For the rest, I think his actor’s words speak for themselves. (And now I really don’t trust anyone else except him with Xiaoge's character.)

Ultimate Note succeeded in capturing the nuances of its main characters: Wu Xie’s loss of his “tianzhen” and slow maturation to the man he will eventually become by Sha Hai; Pangzi’s outwardly humorous pseudo-caricature but inwardly deeply loyal and loving spirit; Xiaoge’s vulnerabilities, painful humanity, and the “heart” given to him by his mother, hidden beneath a seemingly impenetrable armor. This is an Iron Triangle that feels like the Iron Triangle, without needing say so much in words. This is an Iron Triangle with mutual respect and a friendship I can see and believe in.

In conclusion: Ultimate Note does the story justice; it does the characters justice; it does the relationships justice; and it did all this with a low budget and almost no promotion. You can tell the crew definitely cares about the source material.

My only complaint is that they couldn’t film the finale.

Rambling over! All my love to the Ultimate Note cast and crew <3

#dmbj #zjbj #ultimate note #pingxie #iron triangle #盗墓笔记 #终极笔记 #瓶邪 #the lost tomb 3 #shouting into the void #i was supposed to be writing my essay for grad school LMAO #got 2.5k words of whatever the hell this is instead #basically iron triangle superior is what im saying #this is the longer and slightly more grammatical version of what i posted on twitter a couple days ago #FUCK I FORGOT TO TALK ABOUT PAN ZI #you know what its 1am im not editing this now lol

[seveliyukie]

Yamguchi x Reader (Meeting the team)

A/n: I don’t know how this ended up so long. Not my best writing for sure, but I got it done.

Warnings: Little bit of angst from slightly insecure reader but it ends in fluff don’t worry.

Words: 2k

Disclaimer: I don’t own Haikyuu or any of its characters. All rights belong to Furudate-sensei.

(Story below cut)

“Why haven’t you met the volleyball team yet?” The vice-president of the student council asked you as the two of you walked towards the office to hand in a stack of club forms. “Isn’t your boyfriend part of the team? I heard they have a really big tournament coming up.”

You gave a bashful smile to your upperclassman, “He always insists on picking me up from the student council room since we end club activities around the same time. I guess I never really had time to think about it.”

“Hm, I guess that makes sense. You are the first year representative, so it’s not like you have a lot of free time.” With a contemplative look, she continued, “Still, they seem like a close team, so you should probably at least introduce yourself.”

Before you could respond, you realized you had reached your destination. Putting the conversation on hold, you went in and briefed the teacher in charge of student council supervision on the changes in clubs from the previous year’s. Despite being only a first year, you had been placed in charge of managing club activities while the president focused on other areas of the school. Of course, you had the vice-president to help, but it was a time-consuming task you had thrown yourself into on your first day in your determination to prove yourself.

Once everything was settled, the two of you walked out of the office towards the student council room. The silence gave you time to think about what the other girl had said. Maybe she’s right? They do seem important to him. You thought to yourself.

Seeing your face scrunched up in concentration, your upperclassman laughed, “Are you thinking about your boyfriend?”

You blush at the fact that she read you so easily. It was one of your many traits, but you never got used to how easily some people could read you. 

Ruffling your hair as she often did to her kohai, she smiled and pointed in the direction of the gym, “Why don’t you go over there now? We just have to record our hours and tidy up the room a little, and I can do both for you. Go surprise him!” 

Feeling encouraged by your senpai’s enthusiasm, you nod gratefully and run until you hear the tell tale signs of squeaking shoes on the gym floor. With your adrenaline running high, you don’t hesitate going through the door but regret your decision as soon as you feel all eyes turn to you.

A beat of silence passed.

“WOAAAHHH A PRETTY GIRL CAME TO WATCH OUR PRACTICE!” A short boy with spiky brown hair shouted. Stars were practically shining through his eyes.

“Thank you Kami-sama for blessing us with this sight.” A bald boy said with his hands clapped together as if he were praying. If you squinted you could almost see a holy light shining down on him. 

“Pretty!!” The short orange haired boy blurted out. Wait, is that Hinata? You briefly wondered before your view was blocked by a tall figure.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Your boyfriend asked while shielding you with his frame and grabbing your hand.

“Hehe,” you chuckled nervously. Hopefully he wouldn’t get mad, not that Tadashi has ever really gotten mad at you before. “Surprise?”

A blush spread over the green haired boy’s face. It didn’t take much for him to get flustered. Honestly, the fact that he is dating you still baffles him despite the months you’ve been together. Seeing your slightly nervous smile made his stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Oi, why is this shorty disturbing our practice time?” An irritated voice came from behind your protective wall. 

You could see your boyfriend’s face visibly pale. Wondering why he seemed more nervous than usual, you peeked around him only to see a tall, cold looking blonde haired boy. He was staring down at you with a sneer as if you were more disgusting than the dirt on his shoes.

Well excuuuuse me.

Feeling the rare rebellious side bubble up in you, you stepped out from behind your boyfriend and marched up to the taller boy. Jabbing your index finger into his chest, you glared fiercely at him, “And who do you think you are to be so rude to someone you just met. It’s not my fault you guys stopped practicing just because I walked in. If you care so much, why don’t you go play by yourself over there?” 

As soon as you finished your rant, you realized what you had just said and who you said it to. Oh my god I just yelled at my boyfriend’s teammate. Tadashi’s probably so embarrassed by me.

A familiar hand stopped you in your thoughts. Looking up, you saw your boyfriend glaring at the blonde boy. The laughter from his other teammates at your outburst suddenly died down as they took in the sight before them. Even blondie seemed confused at the situation.

“Tsukki.” Tadashi said in an eerily calm voice. You had only heard him use this tone once and it was when he had found you being hit on a guy who refused to take no as an answer. “I don’t know what’s been wrong with you lately, but I won’t tolerate you insulting my girlfriend. I don’t care that we’ve been best friends for years. She did nothing to deserve your rude comments.”

A few chokes were heard coming from the other boys but were quickly silenced by the grey haired boy. A shocked expression flashed across the blonde boy’s, Tsukki you reminded yourself, face before it quickly shifted back to an annoyed one. You were prepared for more insults, but instead he just sneered at you again and walked away. 

The atmosphere felt heavy, but your boyfriend simply grabbed your hand once more and gave you a bright smile. You gave him a weak smile in response. A sinking feeling settled in your chest. This hadn’t been your intention. You didn’t want to ruin his relationship with his teammates much less his best friend. 

But why haven’t I heard of Tsukki before if he’s Tadashi’s best friend? You wondered as you were guided by the team manager to a spot where you could wait for the rest of practice to be over. Surely he would’ve wanted me to meet him, right? Unless… he was ashamed to have me as his girlfriend. 

Your thoughts continued to spiral as the practice wore on. As the boys continued playing, you could no longer focus and decided to head out for some fresh air. You wondered if you should just head home. It would be bad if your presence caused even more trouble for Tadashi. He’s been nothing short of the perfect boyfriend for you; the least you could do is not cause tension between him and his teammates.

As you started heading towards the exit, you heard someone calling your name. Turning around, you saw Sugawara, whom you’ve talked to before since he was the vice captain, calling out to you.

“Sugawara-senpai, did you need something from me?” You asked politely. The tears that had been about to spill still lingered but only if you looked close enough. 

Giving you a sympathetic look, he said softly, “Why don’t you wait a bit. I’m sure Yamaguchi-kun would want you to stay.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” You mumbled quietly, almost to yourself. 

“What makes you say that?” 

You hesitated not knowing if you should tell him about your insecurities. When you looked up, you locked eyes and saw only an almost motherly compassion in his eyes. That was all it took for your worries to come spilling out. 

“Tadashi talks about you guys all the time and how much he wants to help the team make it to nationals. And he works so hard every day! I’ve seen him nearly collapse from exhaustion because he decided to practice his float serves. Since you guys are so important to him, I just wanted to meet you all but instead I made a big mess. And, and,” you hiccup a little, tears streaming down your cheeks, “I guess I just thought if I were important to him he would have told you guys about me… but clearly that wasn’t the case because his best friend didn’t even know who I was.”

“Y/n…” A familiar voice called your name. Your eyes widened in shock. When had Tadashi come out… scratch that, when had the whole team come out?

You didn’t have time to question it before you were engulfed by a warm hug. Instinctively, you hugged Tadashi back. You could feel him shaking slightly as he whispered in your ear, “Please don’t ever think you’re not important to me. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”

The tears that had been pricking your eyes turned to tears of happiness at his words. You pressed your face closer to his chest where his heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Are you done?” A familiar flat voice came from behind your boyfriend.

A sense of dejavu washed over you. Instead of getting angry like last time, you shied away from the blonde haired boy. You peeked up at your boyfriend and was shocked to see him glaring even more harshly at the other boy. 

Not wanting another incident, you stepped out from around your shield. You met his eyes, “I know you don’t approve of my relationship with Tadashi, but you aren’t his parents. I don’t need your approval to date him. Hopefully we can sort out our differences because I’m sure as Tadashi’s best friend you also don’t want to make him choose sides.” 

“Tch,” He grunted. His eyes never left yours as he assessed your sincerity. After a beat of silence, he turned away, grumbling out, “Whatever.”

The hope you had at reconciling with him died as you watched his retreating figure head back into the gym. You didn’t even see the knowing looks on the other boys’ faces as they, too, headed back inside to give you some privacy. Feeling disappointed, you turned to your boyfriend to apologize only to stop when you see an excited look on his face.

“Tadashi…?”

“How did you do that? Wait it doesn’t matter! Thank you for being patient enough to deal with him for me.” He cried with sparkles in his eyes as he glomped you with another hug. 

“But, he just… what?” You spluttered in confusion.

Laughing a little, Tadashi explained, “That wasn’t him dismissing you. That was his way of saying that he accepts and respects you which is more than I was hoping for.” He looked at you shyly, “I was kind of afraid you would leave me since I had a best friend like him. He’s not a bad guy, but he can be a little insensitive to others.”

Slapping him on his chest, you glared, “Excuse me, cut me some slack. Our relationship means more to me than you having a salty best friend.” You paused thinking about how ready he looked to fight his best friend for you and said, “Thank you for sticking by me. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but you are my most precious person and I just want to make you happy. I’m glad you don’t have to choose between me and your best friend.”

Something wet dripped onto your cheek and you peered up to see tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Wha- wait don’t cry!” You try to console him but he stops you.

“Y/n. I love you. I love you so much. Will you… will you wear my jersey to the Interhigh Spring Tournament?” The hope shining in his eyes makes your heart melt into goo.

“I would love to Tada-kun. I love you too.” You tell him, bringing him back into a close embrace. The two of you stand there hugging for a while longer simply enjoying each other’s presence.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi x reader #tsundere reader #jealous tsukki #soft boy yamaguchi

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Coffee’s for Royals

*Zuko (ATLA) x Reader

*Summary: Opening shift is usually terrible, but a certain prince coming in every morning makes things more tolerable.

*Warnings: Swearing. Let me know if I need to tag anything else.

*A/N: Coffee Shop AU starring a certain angsty prince. My childhood crushes on both Zuko and Mai are back in full force.

My Ko-Fi

**********

You hated taking the opening shift. You were the closing type, not the wake up at 3:30 in the morning so you could open up the store with your overly peppy coworker type. Normally your manager was amazing and let you work mostly closing shifts, but there were the rare occasions the opening shift was short staffed, and your manager would send you a text. Now, you were never one to turn down an extra shift (you definitely needed the money), but you didn’t enjoy taking the opening shift.

When you walked into the coffee shop at four in the morning, you were already fighting the urge to fight somebody. “Why the hell didn’t the closers clean up last night?” You asked as you pulled on your apron.

“I don’t know, aren’t you a closer?” Suki asked, unimpressed. She was a regular opener, having the kind of discipline to regularly wake up at hellish hours. You loved working opening shifts with her - she was a complete badass and one of your closest work friends - but she hated your habits as a closer.

“Yeah, but when I’m a closer, cleaning is a problem for the openers,” you groaned. She threw her hat at you. “Hey!” 

“And that’s why I hate you. Give me back my hat,” she said, walking towards you with some cleaning supplies.

“No, you threw it at me, now it’s mine,” you joked, taking a rag from her.

“So what the hell are you going to do with two hats? Hurry up before shift lead comes in.” You tossed Suki her hat, already feeling better about taking the shift. Sure, you were tired as hell, but you enjoyed the banter you always had going with her. “Alright, what coffee do you want?”

While Suki made the two of you some drinks, you got to cleaning what closing shift didn’t. Most of the machines were cleaned on the surface level, but you had to run some deep cleaning cycles on them. Once that was done, the two of you started brewing the base coffees, needing at least something to serve the customers that would come in during the first few hours of the shop being open. Before you knew it, it was officially time to open. Suki sent you to unlock the door, and then the two of you were just hanging out, filling the occasional order.

Once it started nearing six, you were already wondering when you could take your break. Sure, you hadn’t seen that many customers yet, but you just wanted to sit behind the counter and drink the second coffee Suki had made for you. You stood behind the register, kind of just vibing to the music Suki was playing over the speakers. A guy wearing a hoodie came in, hood pulled up to mostly cover his face, so you went to pretend like you were fully present at work. “Hi, good morning,” you said, putting on your customer service smile. “What can I get for you today?”

“Yeah, hi, uh, can I get a grande white chocolate mocha?” He asked. You knew that voice from somewhere. You didn’t know how, but you recognized that voice. You looked up, scanning his face to see if you actually recognized him or just thought you did. When your gaze landed on the scar, it immediately hit you.

“A-are you Prince Zuko?” you asked, taking the grande cup from the stack.

The guy’s hand immediately went to rub the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Yeah, I am.”

“Cool. So is that hot or iced?” You asked, not knowing what else to do. It wasn’t like your manager trained you on what to do when royalty randomly walked into your store.

“Hot, please,” he said with a small smile. You typed the order into the computer, waiting a second for the cup’s label to print.

“Alrighty, can I get you anything else?”

“No thanks.” You nodded, finishing up the order. He handed over his card, and went to wait by the order counter to wait for his drink once you handed it back. There was no one else in the shop, and Suki was already working on his drink. You just stood behind the register, not knowing if you should make small talk with him or just try to act like you had things to do. His drink didn’t take long, and when Suki went to put it on the counter, she just lit up when she saw who was there.

“Oh, hey, Zuko!” Suki called as she worked on his drink. “You know, you should try something else every once in a while. I’m starting to get bored just making this one drink.”

“Nah, I like my white chocolate mocha,” he joked back. The two of them kept talking as Suki went about making his drink, and you just stood there, drinking the coffee Suki made for you. You couldn’t believe the way Suki was just immediately joking like that. He must have been a regular, but even with your regulars, you didn’t joke like that. It seemed like they were actual friends, but then how the hell did Suki know the Prince outside of just being his regular barista? Once Suki handed him his drink, they stayed chatting for a few minutes before he finally left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, you turned to Suki. “How the hell do you know the Prince?”

“Oh, Zuko? Yeah, he’s one of Sokka’s friends,” Suki explained. “You know, you’d see him more often if you took more opening shifts. He gets here before the rushes so he doesn’t get recognized.”

“Who said I wanted to see him more often? I just think it’s wild you’re friends with the Prince,” you explained, taking another drink to hide your little embarrassed smile. You hated being put on the spot like that, especially if Suki was implying what it seemed like she was.

“Anyways, he’s single now, not that you’d be super interested in that,” Suki continued to push. You choked on your drink, making Suki laugh. In the nicest way possible, you were going to kill that girl.

**********

It was a complete coincidence you happened to take a couple opening shifts over the next couple weeks. It wasn’t too often, but it was still more than you were usually willing to take. “You know, it’s weird that you’re taking these shifts now,” Suki commented as you cleaned.

“Shut up, I just need the extra money,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault no one else wants to work opening.”

“Okay, sure. Then why’d you look so bummed out when Zuko didn’t show last shift?” Suki teased. You shot her a deadly glare, which she answered with a self-satisfied grin. “He was sick, just in case you were lying about not caring.”

“Anyways,” you tried to change the topic, saying the one word louder than necessary. “Can I choose music today?”

“Yeah, dude. All you had to do was connect your phone first.” You finished cleaning the machine you were working on, already heading over to the door to open for the day. “Hey, what coffee do you want?”

“(Coffee drink of choice),” you said, unlocking the door and flipping the sign.

“No, something easier,” Suki joked, going to make your drink anyways.

“Thank you!”

There was a little rush of customers for about twenty minutes after opening, the super early commuters trying to get their caffeine fix. After that, you and Suki were able to just hang out, adjusting your playlist to whatever vibe you wanted in the shop, and tend to the occasional customer. You were kind of starting to get used to the vibe of opening shift, and you had to admit it was kind of nice. Not enough for you to want to become a regular opener, but it was still nice.

Almost on cue, Zuko walked in as soon as six rolled around. You perked up when you saw him in his red hoodie, hood up but now with a black baseball cap on his head. “Hi! Good morning, Prince. Grande white chocolate mocha?” You asked as he walked up to the counter.

“Oh, uh, hey. Yeah, how’d you know?” He asked as you put in the order.

“Sorry, I just heard Suki say you always order the same thing, so I kinda figured it was your regular,” you explained with a small smile. You could see the flush on his face at your answer, so you immediately went to focus on getting the cup.

“Yeah, it is. She’s always trying to get me to try something else.” Zuko laughed. “I just can’t handle the pure coffee flavor, so, mocha.”

“I get it, I didn’t start drinking actual coffee until I started working here. Alright, so that’ll be $4.45.” Zuko handed his card over, but instead of going over to the pick up counter to talk to Suki like he did last time, he just stayed near the order counter once you handed him his card.

“So, uh, you don’t normally work opening, do you?” Zuko asked, not meeting your gaze directly. You were a little taken aback, not expecting him to actually try to hold a conversation with you. You handed Suki his cup, and she just grinned as she looked between the two of you. “I come in like every morning and I haven’t really seen you here before, you know?”

“No, I work closing but I’ve been picking up a few shifts every now and then,” you explained. You didn’t know why you were giving him so much information, but it wasn’t like you could stop it. Zuko nodded, still looking around the shop like there was something that could take his attention away. You waited a second to see if he was going to go talk to Suki, but when he didn’t, you figured you’d keep the conversation going. “So, you’re friends with Suki’s boyfriend?”

Zuko looked at you, once again a little surprised at your question. “Yeah, we met a few years ago when we were both travelling around. How’d you…?”

“Sorry, I asked Suki how she knew you cuz you guys seemed like kinda close. I hope I wasn’t overstepping my bounds, Prince,” you apologized, looking down at your register. You could feel your face heating up, realizing admitting to the Prince that you were asking his friend for information about him might come off as very weird.

“Don’t worry about it! Oh, uh, by the way, you can just call me Zuko,” he told you. You looked up, catching a glimpse of the shy smile he had. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh! I’m (y/n)! Nice to, like, officially meet you.” The two of you just stood there, awkward little smiles on your faces until Suki decided to ruin it.

“Hey, Prince Moody! Stop flirting with my coworker and come get your coffee!” Zuko looked to you, mortified at what Suki just said. He sputtered out an apology before going to the pick up counter. You tried to ignore the rapid-fire whispering from the other side of the counter, instead focusing on what drink you were going to ask Suki to make for you next. The whispering lasted for the longest minutes of your life, but finally Zuko made his way to the front door, turning for a second to wave goodbye to you before leaving. Your heart raced at the small gesture, but the second you looked at Suki, your mood was ruined. She was leaning against the counter, resting her chin on her fist. “So, when’s the wedding? You could do spring, but I’m thinking you’re more of a fall person.”

“We were literally just talking! What, I can’t speak to my customers now?”

“Oh, so he’s your customer now?” Suki teased.

“I hate you.”

“You know you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Can you make me an iced coffee next?” Suki gave an exaggerated gasp, holding her hand up to her chest.

“Do you only like me because I can make coffee?” Suki questioned, pouting.

“Well, I can make coffee too, I’m just too lazy to make it myself right now,” you said with a sweet smile.

“You gremlin.” Suki rolled her eyes, grabbing a cup for your drink anyways. “You’re lucky you’re my friend.”

“I’m honored.”

**********

When one of the openers gave their two weeks, your manager asked if you wanted to switch over and become an official opener. Before then, you’d already been working a few opening shifts a week, only taking closing about two nights a week. You agreed to the switch, knowing you were already heading that way anyways. Suki quickly jumped in with the teasing when you told her, but you just rolled your eyes and laughed. So what if you enjoyed seeing Zuko in the mornings, just talking about whatever while Suki made his drinks?

When Zuko walked in during your first shift as an official opener, he could tell something was different. As he walked up to the counter, you already put in his order. He immediately pulled out his card and handed it to you. “You seem happy. What’s going on?”

“What, I can’t just be happy?” Zuko gave you a look that let you know he wasn’t awake enough to deal with this. “Alright. So, you’re looking at the newest opener!”

“You switched over from closing?” Zuko asked, eyes widening as you handed his card back to him.

“It wasn’t like she was actually working closing shifts anyways,” Suki chimed in, grabbing the cup you set aside for Zuko’s drink. “She’s been mainly opening because of her favorite customer.”

“Would you please just go make coffee?” you whined. You were avoiding looking at Zuko, but you could picture the blush no doubt on his face.

“Yes, ma’am!” Suki said, giving you a salute before heading to the coffee bar.

“I would say sorry about her, but you’ve been her friend for longer,” you said, finally looking at Zuko. There was the faintest blush tinting his cheeks, a lot less than what you expected. “But, yeah, I’ve been opening a lot more lately so the manager asked if I just wanted to switch over officially.”

“Well, I mean, that’s good if you’re enjoying opening shift anyways,” Zuko said. He paused, looking around the shop before turning back to you. “I’m kinda glad. I like seeing you in the mornings.”

And now it was your turn to blush. You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked down at your register as you tried to will away your burning cheeks. It took a few seconds for you to look up to him with a shy smile. “Thanks, I like seeing you in the mornings too. You know, Suki wasn’t exactly lying when she was talking about my favorite customer.”

“Your Royal Asshole, your boring coffee is ready!” Suki called out, voice clear across the empty coffee shop. Zuko groaned in annoyance while you tried to stifle your laughter. She always came up with a new nickname for Zuko when she felt he was too distracted talking to you, each one more creative than the last, always having something to do with his royal blood.

Zuko went to grab his coffee, having another whispered conversation with Suki before going to leave the shop. Just before he got to the door, he turned to look at you. “See you tomorrow, (y/n)! Have a good day!”

“Thanks, Zuko! See you!” You called back. Zuko smiled brightly as he left, while Suki huffed from beside you.

“Rude ass. He didn’t even say bye to me,” Suki pouted. “I’m supposed to be his favorite worker here. You should go back to closing.”

“And he’s the rude one?” You asked with a gasp, holding your hand up to your chest. “Plus, aren’t you all supposed to hang out later?”

“Oh yeah, I told you about Sokka’s thing, didn’t I?” Suki crossed her arms over her chest. “But still, he should’ve said bye.”

“And I’m sure he’s going to hear about it tonight,” you told her, rolling your eyes.

“He absolutely will. Alright, what coffee do you want?” You could tell that was her way of trying to make peace. It worked.

**********

You were used to your routine of being an opener now. You managed to switch up your sleep schedule, you didn’t have to deal with any overly-peppy coworkers - though there were the rare times Suki had her moments - overall, opening shifts were going pretty well. You weren’t going to attribute it completely to a certain royal that came in at exactly the same time every morning, despite how often Suki would tease you about it.

When you were working, you noticed Zuko was sticking around longer. Before, he would stay just long enough to get his coffee, any conversations had while Suki was making his drink. Now he was hanging around, chatting (which was closer to flirting, in your opinion) while he drank his coffee, leaving just before the morning rush officially started. He’d been recognized a few times, the other customers coming to the counter and whispering ‘Was that Prince Zuko?’ You and Suki found it amusing, but never let it slip that he was a regular.

Just as you were in the groove of things, you got a text from your old shift leader. One of the closers had called in sick for the next day, and she’d already spoken to the store manager about switching your shift that day from opening to closing. All she needed was your approval. It only took a few seconds before you gave her the go ahead to switch your shift around. You texted Suki, letting her know what was going on before you jumped in bed, looking forward to a few extra hours of sleep.

When you walked into the shop, ready to start your shift, your old coworker immediately lit up. Well, about as much as she could. “Hey, I thought you abandoned us,” Mai said. “I don’t know why you’d switch over to opening.”

“I have my reasons,” you joked. While Suki was your favorite coworker for opening, Mai was definitely your favorite for closing. There was just something about her stoic nature that you loved. “Why the hell do you guys leave such a mess?”

“Ugh, you definitely sound like an opener now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Go put on your apron and help us.”

You smiled and followed her orders, going to the back to put on your apron and hat. You quickly fell back in step with everyone else, used to the more laid back nature of closing. The time just seemed to fly by, and you had a brief moment where you questioned why you switched shifts in the first place. It was only a moment before your favorite customer came into your mind, reminding you what you’d miss if you went back to closing shift.

The half hour before closing was one of the quietest times of the day, probably tied with right after opening. You and Mai were chatting about some different concerts she went to since the last time you saw each other when the door opened. You had your back turned to the front, but you saw Mai’s eyes narrow at whoever just walked in. 

“What are you doing here?” she snipped. Your eyes widened at her attitude - which wasn’t anything new, it was just never directed at the customers if she could help it.

“You know, she still scares me.” You recognized that voice from the few times he came in to get Suki after work. You finally turned to face the customers. Zuko stood there, trying to look anywhere other than at Mai, and Sokka was standing next to him. Sokka waved at you.

“Well?” Mai demanded.

“I, uh, I wanted-”

“(Y/n) wasn’t working this morning and Zuko got bummed out. Suki told me she was working closing today,” Sokka cut him off. Zuko nodded, looking at the floor.

You looked at Mai, wondering what the hell was going on. “So am I just dumb or is there something happening right now?” 

“I used to date Zuko, and I told him never come in here when I’m working,” Mai said, getting louder as she directed the last part to Zuko.

“It’s not like I knew you’d be working tonight!” Zuko tried defending himself. Sokka ignored their back and forth, walking up to the counter.

“Alright, so can I get an iced coffee?” Sokka asked you. You just nodded, going through the motions of taking his order. Zuko and Mai were still going at it, so he lowered his voice as he talked to you. “Look, I know this entire thing here is awkward, but Zuko likes you. Like, he won’t shut up about you. Ever. He was supposed to ask you out today, but, you know, this is happening now.”

“So what, you decided to just pop in so you could flirt with my coworker? You really couldn’t find anyone else in this entire city?” Mai argued. You were a little surprised she overheard.

“It’s not like that!”

“Then what? You just decided to follow one of the workers from opening to closing shift?”

“You know what, I’ll wait for you outside, Sokka,” Zuko gave in, just leaving the shop.

“I hate that guy,” Mai huffed, going to the back, leaving you to finish up Sokka’s order.

**********

The next morning Zuko came in during your shift, things were definitely awkward. You put in his normal order, not sure how you were going to address things. “So, uh, you and Mai?”

“Yeah. We dated for a couple years. I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” Zuko mumbled. “I’m really sorry for that. I shouldn’t have let Sokka talk me into coming during closing shift.”

“I mean, it did get a little tense-”

“A little?”

“Okay, very tense, but like, I guess it was kind of sweet of you,” you said with a tentative smile, Sokka’s comments at the back of your mind.

“Wait, what?”

Zuko’s confusion immediately made you question what Sokka told you the last time you saw them. You turned to Suki. “Why does your boyfriend like messing with me?”

“He’s just like that,” Suki said, obviously confused at her sudden involvement in your conversation. You just finished ringing up Zuko’s order, giving the cup to Suki so she could make the drink.

“What did Sokka tell you?” Zuko asked as he took his card back from you.

“Nothing important,” you tried brushing it off with a wave of your hand. He’d already caused you enough embarrassment, and he wasn’t even there.

“(Y/n)...” Zuko dragged out. You hated how easily he could tell you were lying. Suki was busy making the coffee, not paying you any mind (as far as you knew), but the drink would only take so long to make. “C’mon, what’d Sokka tell you?”

“I mean, he might’ve said you liked me-”

“Well, yeah, I think you’re a pretty cool person-”

“No, like, you like me as in you were gonna ask me out, but you and Mai got into it,” you interrupted him interrupting you. “That’s what Sokka told me, but he likes messing with me, and since you’re his friend he probably likes messing with you more, so I probably shouldn’t have taken it so seriously.”

You could feel Zuko watching you as you rambled, even as your own eyes stayed glued to the register. “Sokka likes messing with people,” Zuko started. He paused, probably looking around the shop as he tried to figure out what to say. Your mind raced, thinking about how you probably just made things really awkward. He was probably just figuring out a nice way to reject you, and you really shouldn’t have switched shifts just because you might’ve had a crush on this dude. What were you even thinking? This guy was a royal, there was no way he-

“But yeah, it would’ve been nice if I could be the one to tell you I like you. And I guess he kinda asked you out for me?” Zuko said, more of a question than anything else. “Well, would you like to go out? We could get coffee or something.”

You froze, not sure if you heard him right. Zuko immediately flushed, taking your shock as a bad sign. “If not that’s really fine too! I’m sorry, it’s probably weird for a customer to-”

“I’m not doing anything right now, if you want to get some breakfast or something,” you interrupted him, regaining control.

“Yes the hell you are doing something right now!” Suki called from the pick up counter. “You’re working! Go on your little date after your shift is done.”

“She’s technically right,” Zuko laughed. “I can come get you after your shift?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You could feel the excitement bubbling up within you, the little wisps of nervousness somewhere in there too.

“That’s cute. Your coffee’s getting cold, by the way,” Suki said, holding up Zuko’s cup. He went to get it, leaving soon after with a small smile and a promise to get you once your shift was over. Once he was out of the shop, you looked over to Suki. “Question still stands. Spring or Fall wedding?”

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed.

“I called it and you know it!” Before you could say anything else, another customer walked in, calling your attention to the fact that, yes, you were still very much at work. Only a few more hours, then you would be free to go on your date. You just needed to survive Suki’s teasing until then.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness

#zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar imagine #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender imagine #reader insert

[phoenixtakaramono]

The Untold Tale - Ch4 Preview I

This was the second time they’d held hands. Fingers threaded together, palms touching. A significant amount of information could be communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand—the shape and texture of it, the roughness or softness of the life they’d led, and the strength or fragility of their grip. Luo Binghe would remember the feeling of that pale hand gripping his tightly for the rest of his life.

The mist billowed under Luo Binghe the moment he was allowed entry into the dream realm of the divine. Instantly, he was besieged with the feeling of falling into a frozen lake. The cold was a shock through his body, forcing his hand to convulsively clamp down.

Foolish, Luo Binghe berated himself. Instead of a composed and dignified air, he’d just shown his weak side.

To have been finally welcomed inside the dream realm of a celestial being meant this version of his shizun had thought highly of Luo Binghe and his constitution.

Shen Yuan halted midstride. Concern was written upon those white brows upon seeing his reaction.

Luo Binghe forced an amiable smile as he pretended to be oblivious, masking any sign of his discomfort. The sensation of pins-and-needles assailing him wasn’t something he couldn’t tolerate, but it was unpleasant. Except for their one point of contact, no part had been spared. His gaze lingered on the long scholarly fingers wrapped trustingly around his, before sweeping a glance over their new surroundings.

He felt like he’d stepped into a world composed of silk screens. Ahead, the fine mist passing through the painted scenery shrouded the outline of the tall mountain range and forest. Even the walls of the buildings were composed of firm brushstrokes and soft ink wash.

Droplets of water splashed quietly from their strides as Shen Yuan guided him in the direction of whatever he’d wanted Luo Binghe to see. Like black ink that had been dipped into clear water, the transparent surface was beginning to darken with every tread Luo Binghe took.

He stared down at his feet. The sight of the ink and water swirling into one another as though they were made to be together gave rise to the tide of emotions which had been circulating within his mind.

In the newly fallen darkness, he could sense his companion had fallen into another state of deep contemplation. As the two men shared a companionable silence, Luo Binghe took a long, measuring look at the landscape—at the secrets hiding within the fog, behind the translucent silks.

The atmosphere was incomparably resplendent and harmonious, yet it painted an undeniable fact about his companion who had been secreted away from him. More knowledge could be gained of how such a revered existence perceived the outside world.

“...You’ve always had an unruly habit to roam and draw unnecessary attention to yourself!” An insidious and vicious whisper brushed against Luo Binghe’s mind like a wisp of smoke. “To think you’d chase him here on impulse!”

Hearing the litany of grievances, Luo Binghe hid the blade that was his smile. Unlike himself, he had no doubt that his senior might have been exorcised had he not taken refuge in him. However convincingly the Meng Mo conveyed his displeasure, his voice was weakened.

Earlier, Luo Binghe had gambled that on this fateful evening that the celestial fortuneteller would have no choice but to attend to his growing fatigue. His guard would be lowered and that was when the opportunity would present itself.

The practice of invading and manipulating a person’s dreams was nothing new. With his secret tutelage cultivating on the demonic path, beginning from Luo Binghe’s past as a mere Cang Qiong Mountain sect disciple, he had learned to infiltrate many minds.

Several had been his lovers—the first being his shījiě, accidental as it had been pulling his martial sister along with him—although the treatment his women received was far more considerate than the cruel methods he inflicted upon all those who opposed him.

He had seen the duplicity of people’s hearts and reproduced illusions of varying natures. He’d learned how to lure others when they were at their most defenseless and be able to find their worst fears and memories to inflict the maximum psychological torment.

With his enemies who were impervious to physical torture, few could claim immunity upon being confronted with their own inner demons.

With his lovers, he could skim their memory fragments and indulge any spring dreams either of them had fantasized about.

Because unlike the waking world, the dream realm was honest.

It was a glimpse into one’s truest state. The capability to doubt was stripped away. Memories could be spied on. Falsehoods were exposed. And no secrets could be kept from him.

Meng Mo’s withered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You should be more prudent in choosing your words around him. The ways of those of the Heavenly Realm are mysterious—but they are proud and have always held contempt for our kind. Don’t be muddled in the head just because you believe he can replace the late Qing Jing Peak Lord…. His looks aren’t bad but to eat the tofu of the one who bears the farseeing, discerning eyes of the heavens….” A mocking edge had crept into Meng Mo’s tone. “You are shameless. This elder doesn’t know whether to be impressed or scold you for holding that ambition.”

Although his lips had thinned into a white line, Luo Binghe remained silent.

Water shaped its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flowed. Tonight, many of his initial plans had been waylaid. Although he couldn’t have predicted its trajectory, he wasn’t discontent with the final outcome. He’d gained information that would be invaluable to him—and he’d finally found his shizun.

There had been a quiescent anticipation in the night as Luo Binghe waited like a spider spinning its web, searching and reaching for the only mind of this residence who was of interest to him, until he’d finally sensed the faintest reverberation of the otherworldly and ephemeral—a presence that could only belong to him.

And he’d pulled.

As someone who used to humbly occupy the Mortal Realm, never in his imagination did Luo Binghe expect he could claim success to the achievement of accessing the dream realm of an immortal celestial being.

The rush of triumph had been dampened once, upon seeking Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe encountered a Qi-condensed barrier—a mental defense meant to repel demonic influences. Impenetrable even against the combined efforts of himself and his senior who had centuries worth of infiltration experience, no matter how much he’d concentrated—redirecting the violent and rough flow of his Qi into something more finessed—he was unable to cross the boundary to meet the precious person inside. Breaching it would require a much greater display of force.

Luo Binghe had been stuck at an impasse. He’d realized, unless he wished to cause Shen Yuan psychological pain, the barrier had to stay.

In hindsight, his action had indeed been too rash.

Time was immeasurable in the world of dreams, but with every moment that had passed without Shen Yuan revealing himself, the fear mounted. Perhaps Shen Yuan had predicted such an incident would occur and had taken precaution. The opportunity would have slipped through Luo Binghe’s fingers like water.

It was inevitable that they would be going their separate ways in the coming morning. And the last deep impression he’d leave behind would cast Luo Binghe in an extremely bad light, with Shen Yuan withdrawing back into seclusion and harboring a grudge for being taken advantage of.

All would be lost. Faced with the possibility of being abandoned, Luo Binghe had been inconsolable. The tension in the air around him had been so thick, it presented a heavy atmosphere in his own dream realm.

The giant boulder which weighed down his heart vanished when, with the keen senses of a cultivator, his five senses had detected a ripple in the fog.

From faraway, he’d been spellbound. He’d seen a sight resembling that from legend, with the unattainable moon that was Shen Yuan descending down from the stars which glistened like shards in the night.

He had chosen to come to Luo Binghe out of his own volition.

Another realization had struck Luo Binghe. Seeing the regal figure out of his immaculate finery—dressed down to his inner clothing and with his moonlit hair undone, without a headpiece in sight—was a rare and intimate sight. Aside from the servants who tended to their peerless master, no one else must have been bestowed such a gift.

It’d been fascinating observing how someone of the Heavenly Realm would interact within his world. Shen Yuan had assimilated quickly. Wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar environment, his appearance reminded Luo Binghe of the purest white snow, high above and unreachable, the likes of which could not be tainted. His manner had been aloof and vague; such bearing was similar to what Luo Binghe expected for someone of high status. The only difference was that his attitude toward Luo Binghe had not been indifferent or uncaring. Courtesy had been given, even knowing who he was.

“...Xiōng dì.” A deep and steady voice trickled into Luo Binghe’s awareness, pulling him from his deep reflection.

An invigorating energy suddenly blanketed him. All discomfort fled, replaced with the refreshing coldness of a spring brook. Shen Yuan had fallen a step back so that they were now shoulder to shoulder.

Shen Yuan’s gaze was appraising as his breaths feathered the fur. “I had not expected you being here would be strenuous on you. Please take care of your body.” A hand went up to clasp him on the shoulder. “I think, for now, it’s better to stay close to me until you can stand on your own. You’ll be safer by my side.”

Luo Binghe inhaled sharply.

“Hoh. How considerate!” Dryness filtered into his thoughts. “Such goodwill. He must really have a good heart.”

Stay out of this, Luo Binghe rebuked. Scram!

He ducked his head. The hidden meaning of Shen Yuan’s words had not been lost on him. He simply hadn’t expected how protective Shen Yuan was of him.

In this lifetime, Luo Binghe would like to think he could recognize his shizun even if he turned into ashes—or took on a different appearance. Even the slow-witted were able to see that Shen Yuan was of different temperament, reminding Luo Binghe of the other “Shen Qingqiu” of the mirror world. This fortuneteller had a sincere and utterly honest personality.

This night was the first time they’d met, but it was undeniable that there was a flow to their conversations—as though they were not strangers but instead dear friends reuniting. It was like someone had peered into his heart and crafted him a person according to his desires. Being with Shen Yuan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

There was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Since they have finally encountered, it must have meant they were fated. Since fated, one must live up to the fate that the Heavens bestowed.

When his host had yet to retrieve his infatuated eyes, Meng Mo’s tone changed into that of a fussy steward coaxing his headstrong young lord. “Have you not wondered what he’s after? What his true intentions are? This fortuneteller’s character and actions have been truly mysterious. He seems to be an intelligent person. For him to offer his assistance to change your fate, he must have plans for you. We must figure out what they are.”

What do you know? Luo Binghe’s remark had been as cutting and swift as a blade. Don’t exaggerate. You know nothing.

“...You’ve finally gone insane.” A heavy sigh was heaved. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss my words as superfluous. His kind has no qualms destroying us both if your existence is implicated as a calamity-sized threat. ...But knowing your wicked temperament, listen to me very carefully: you’d best prepare to make sure his cooperation doesn’t deviate. If he is speaking the truth, you already have one meddling benefactor in your life.”

One hand curled into a fist at his side. Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī…. It took everything in Luo Binghe’s willpower to keep his expression from becoming unsightly.

It was a detestable name he vowed to never forget. While he was grateful to know now the one responsible behind his every misfortune, the mere suggestion of such an existence stoked the flames of resentment.

To a higher being who crafted this world, the realms were a pond. And Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī had caused too many ripples. To have planned everything in Luo Binghe’s life, that wily schemer must feel quite pleased with himself. He’d treated his creations—he’d treated Luo Binghe, his supposed “original masterpiece”—as helpless pawns of his mind games, not putting the sufferings of others in mind.

And why wouldn’t he? Such conceit was ordinary among those who occupied the realm of gods, immortals, and fairies.

Had Luo Binghe been raised under different circumstances, had his benefactor been more caring and had not made his life all the more difficult, had he not had to suffer the countless humiliations and injustices, his soft heart of the past would have felt moved to discover he had the backing of such a great and magnanimous patron behind him. He might have even expressed gratitude to such a “creator” for teaching him the lessons that could only be learnt through adversity!

Luo Binghe hid the spiteful sneer in his heart. If there was an altar dedicated to Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī, Luo Binghe most certainly would find a way to desecrate it. He felt no filial piety for such a callous being.

What reasonable person would appreciate their life being treated as a stage play? Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī’s favor was a terrible burden. He had placed Luo Binghe on a path of greatness that led to a cliff to his death.

Hearing his vicious thoughts, Meng Mo murmured, “Even so...the will of the heavens has always been enigmatic and impossible to predict. For two heavenly beings who wish to stake their claim on you...an immense honor has been bestowed. Be careful of how you act with this one; he must be testing you.”

Allowing the weight of his words to sink in, Luo Binghe gazed at Shen Yuan. Even though he had tacitly implied a falling out, there were signs of obvious estrangement between himself and Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī.

Himself being here must have presented Shen Yuan an irresistible impulse to take initiative. Had he not intervened, Luo Binghe would have blindly followed Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī’s design for him like a clay doll.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Wouldn’t Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī be angered if his clay doll spurned him and had instead sought another benefactor? It was an alluring prospect. The advantages of having someone like Shen Yuan on his side far exceeded anything else. He was hidden like a song heard by the river. And he knew the way of all the heroes of the world.

...What does Senior think? Shizun has foretold this lord’s fated one to be an indispensable source of wisdom. Naturally, my future prospects are limitless if this astute person becomes tied to me. You’ve said the heavens were unforgiving against those of demonic blood, so would this not grant the greatest protection if they witness how this lord cherishes and protects one of their own? If such a revered existence becomes known as this lord’s closest person? Great heroes and wise scholars live freely without guile or contrivance.

A moment of silence passed.

Eventually, disbelieving laughter ghosted along Luo Binghe’s mind, as faint as autumn leaves rustling in the wind. “This elder has done well to have chosen you as my successor. You have a one-track mind that cannot even be reined in by eight horses!”

Luo Binghe hid the cold smile in his heart. He had not outright stated it, but he knew Meng Mo could read between the lines.

Since he had two benefactors wishing to stake their claim on him, then it was only fair if he staked his own claim over one of them. But to do that, he had to reach the pinnacle. Only then would he be in a position where he could not be crossed, and his image would be elevated in the eyes of others.

Resources must be consolidated. The more meritorious his achievements were, the more he could make a name for himself and demonstrate his capability as a leader. He had to expand his prestige and quickly spread his power; connections were needed.

He refused to die a dog’s death like how Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī had planned for him after his use had been expended.

Like how it had been when he’d been weak and defenseless, it was either Luo Binghe moved forward—or he’d die. With a handsome and refined match by his side guiding him, the Three Realms would be his.

“Have patience,” Meng Mo chastised. “You’ve only just met him. From now onwards, until you have determined which benefactor provides you the better benefits, it is better not to provoke either.”

There was a grain of truth to his advice. There were no good prospects if a dulled knife became sharpened. Likewise, as soon as one underestimated their prey, they were done for.

Luo Binghe couldn’t help recalling his past little by little. The Cang Qiong Mountain sect had opened its doors only once every few years to recruit new disciples. It didn’t feel too long ago when he’d been handpicked from the selection of people hoping to have the potential to develop a golden core. In his youthful ignorance, bearing a poor orphan’s hope to live a better life, Luo Binghe had not known the path to enlightenment would be treacherous. Many of his martial siblings, his masters, and his own shizun had exposed themselves to be snakes and scorpions.

They were as corrupt as the very evil they opposed, their injustices hidden behind the veneer of being virtuous and just.

The side of the righteous was filled with hypocrisy. To hold steadfast to the ethics of a disciplined cultivator was not enough. He had to be ruthless.

Just like then, there were all kinds of hidden talents and geniuses in the world. To be blessed by the grace of a celestial being—the very height of immortality—was unheard of. Preposterous, even. Yet he had managed to accomplish such a feat.

Had Meng Mo not claimed, because of Luo Binghe’s inheritance as a Heavenly Demon, that cultivating on the demonic path would allow him to grow by leaps and bounds? That he would stand above thousands? That the entirety of the Three Realms, of the heavens and the earth, would be swept away by his mere existence once the seal was lifted? He had a bright future, if he just reached out his hand and grasped those opportunities with an iron fist.

To have aspirations and goals was high and admirable.

A fine owl would perch on a fine tree; a good servant would serve a good master. As a worldly man, there was nothing wrong for him to pursue ambition. In this world, power was authority.

It had been preordained for him to climb into a position of power. Even Shen Yuan had said so himself, both in his reading and just moments prior. He would obtain it all in the end.

And even if it took him his entire lifetime, in one way or another Luo Binghe would ensure to repay his “gratitude” back to Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī for his consideration.

“Since you value loyalty and bonds...who knows, perhaps being chummy with this one might turn him into a loyal dog…. This senior looks forward to the day an emissary from the heavens comes to pay respects to the last bloodline of the Heavenly Demons.”

——————————

Notes: “Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī” is referring to Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. Since this sneak peek is from the first draft, some details will be subject to change when the final draft is published on AO3. Since this chapter is mostly Bing gē simping for SY, to balance out the loveydovey majority, Meng Mo is, as the Chinese saying goes, “kicking up/ raising a stink” (at least in the beginning of this chapter).

Link to ch 1-3 on AO3 can be found in my profile!

#svsss #bingqiu #scumbag system #the scum villain's self saving system #bingyuan #luo binghe #luo bingge #the untold tale #celestial shen yuan #phoenixtakaramono #preview

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains Roman Castile: Prince

To bring out your inner truth, to stand by your friends. To be the hero of your own story.

The very next day he came out as gay to the school.

He walked through the hallways with his head held high, a confident cadence in his step. He knew that he was getting stares all over and that was rather the point.

When he walked into his first homeroom of the year he was pleasantly surprised to see Virgil there, and no Janus.

Upon seeing him Virgil’s eyes widened. Roman strode in proudly and sat himself on the empty desk next to Virgil’s, his back to the front, feet on the chair and planting his new sparkling, rainbow, backpack next to him, and dragging a hand to his matching hair.

“You are extremely extra any chance you get aren’t you?” Virgil chuckled.

“I am,” Roman agreed as he took off his jacket revealing the full extent of his once white, now rainbow colored shirt, which proudly read ‘I’m a Gay Disney Prince!’. The writing was part of the original shirt. Except for the ‘gay’ bit. That, Roman added himself while he dyed the shirt by using duct tape to write out the letters, paint the shirt and then take of the tape to leave one white word to contrast against the colorful shirt.

So he was pretty much a walking rainbow with a neon-sign on his chest.

It couldn’t be more clear if he shouted it at the top of his lungs. Or maybe if he kissed a guy in front of the whole school. But he wasn’t that extra and the guy he’d want to kiss would not appreciate the gesture.

“Well it looks good on you,” Virgil complemented and Roman made a bow.

“Why thank you, mi caballero guapo,” he teased. Just then their homeroom teacher came in and made introductions, prompting Roman to take his seat, while she handed out their schedules.

Roman looked over at Virgil’s and grinned widely.

“We have almost every class together!” he exclaimed excitedly. Sure the odds were in their favor considering they had the same homeroom, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Last year he’d shared homeroom with André and only had two classes in common.

“Aside from our electives that is. Why am I not surprised you’re taking drawing classes? Though you don’t really need the extra help. You are amazing as you are. Which reminds me. Did you think about sending in your designs?” When Roman looked up he saw that 1 his face and Virgil’s were much to close and 2 he was overwhelming Virgil with his fast paced rambling.

He sat up straight as fast as he could. “Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself there,” he apologized.

Virgil blushed and looked away to stare at his hands that were tugging at his hoodie in his lap.

Roman tried his best not to hope that the color shining through the foundation was because his neighbor was at least a little into him. ‘He is uncomfortable for god’s sake! For once in your life try to not make it about yourself!’ he thought to himself.

“No problem… Well… I don’t know. You really think he’d want it?” Virgil asked awkwardly.

“Are you kidding? If I were forced in that atrocious ‘crime against fashion’ as you adequately called it, I’d be wishing on every star for a new outfit. And what you have drawn up. It’s not just an answer to his every prayer, it’s the most awesome costume he could ever hope for.”

Virgil offered him that adorable half smile of his and looked down. “Alright… I’ll send it in… But with some adjustments and under an alias,” he insisted.

“How about Dante?” Roman offered. He’d still know it was Virgil no matter what alias he’d choose. But BS and the others didn’t need to know who exactly designed his new look.

Virgil nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed with the smallest smile.

Before Roman could ask what he was thinking about that made him smile, the door opened and none other than Janus strolled in.

“Mr. Bullard. So kind of you to join us,” the teacher noted displeased as she handed him his schedule.

Roman noticed Virgil’s good mood disappearing as soon as he walked in. Now Roman thought about it, while he got a rather detailed report on his neighbor’s summer, Janus hadn’t been mentioned once. Had Virgil and Janus gotten into a fight? Did this have something to do with the canceled plans Virgil mentioned right before the lamp came down?

Janus more or less ignored the teacher and looked around, eyes landing on Roman with contempt and narrowing when they spotted Virgil next to him.

He walked over. “Move, that’s my seat,” he growled.

“De ninguna manera. You want to sit with the coolest kid in school, get here on time,” Roman taunted confidently. He wasn’t scared of him and he wouldn’t leave Virgil with someone he seemed to want to distance himself from.

“Excuse me?” Janus’ eyes narrowed and he raised a fist as if preparing to punch him. Roman didn’t even blink.

“Mr. Bullard! Seat! Now!” the teacher insisted. Bullard glared at Roman one last time before looking at Virgil expectantly. “You heard the teacher Jan. Just go,” the purple wonder huffed.

Janus blinked a few times in disbelieve. Then his face hardened and he went to sit on an empty desk to their left.

“Good. As I was saying, I hope the rest of the year will go without any more incidents like yesterday. Mr. Anker, Mr. Castile, I speak for the whole school when I say that we are happy to see you two are back and unfazed by yesterday’s incident,” the teacher offered kindly.

“Thank you Mrs. Foster,” Virgil muttered a little embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of my radiant presence for another day,” Roman jested with a smirk. Causing his classmates to laugh. Well, most, Janus looked like he wanted to glare a hole in his head.

Roman ignored him. Virgil was chuckling next to him and that was a million times more interesting.

The teacher continued with taking attendance and going over all the basic first day announcements. When the bell rang Roman walked with Virgil to his locker, which happened to be only ten away from his. Virgil stayed with him as he retrieved his things and they talked about their homeroom teacher who seemed to be nice but firm. Something they could appreciate.

“Where are we headed next?” Roman asked as he dug into the back of his locker where his pencil case was currently hiding from him.

“Um…” he could hear Virgil digging through his backpack. He’d seen Virgil memorize their schedule earlier. He assumed that Virgil’s anxiety caused him to double check if he remembered right. Which wasn’t a bad thing to be honest. Better safe than sorry right?

“Hey!” Virgil exclaimed behind him. Roman dropped the case and turned around to find Janus looking over Virgil’s schedule with a frown.

“How can we have no classes together? I thought we were going to take sociology?”

“No!” Virgil stated firmly as he snatched the paper back. “You were. I tried to tell you that I wanted to do art, and you didn’t listen. Like usual,” Virgil bit at him before looking at Roman.

“We’re in building C. Let’s go,” he huffed. Roman nodded, picked up the case and shut his locker.

“Virge come on!” Janus objected frantically as he ran out in front of them, keeping them from making their way to class. “You are mad, I get it, I’m sorry okay? Can’t we talk about this? We always work things out,” he pleaded. Roman almost felt sorry for him. He looked genuinely terrified of losing Virgil’s friendship.

Virgil squared his shoulders and lifted his head.

“My decision is final J. I’m done enabling your behavior. I thought I was helping you out, but I was making it worse. I can’t protect you anymore… You are right. Sometimes we have to do what’s best for us. And for me, that is not being around you anymore.” Roman could tell that this was hard on Virgil. So when Janus reached out for him he went to stand in between them.

“He’s asking you to back off. Give him some space.”

Janus’ face went from pleading to murderous in a second. Next thing Roman knew he was pushed against a locker. “Stay out of it Chapero!” He said the slur in a mocking tone, with a purposefully horrible accent. Roman found himself letting out a growl as he turned their position around.

“You better not know what you just called me,” he warned.

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Payaso,” Janus taunted.

“Roman! What’s going on? Let him go. Let’s just go to class. Please.” Roman looked to Virgil, recalling that stress wasn’t good for him. “Sorry. You’re right. We’ll be late,” he sighed, letting go of the other teens collar and following Virgil, trying to calm himself down.

“Get to class Jan!” Virgil instructed his former friend.

“This isn’t over!” Janus replied. He didn’t come after them though. Good, Roman wouldn’t be able to refrain from using his powers a second time.

When they got outside and headed to building C Virgil laid his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

Was he okay? “I’ll be fine, just pissed off. How about you? He was your friend for a long time right?” he asked instead.

Virgil sighed sadly. “He lives in the house next to mine. We basically grew up together I guess. And I tried to protect him from bullies as best I could, you know because of,” Virgil gestured to the left side of his face and Roman nodded in understanding.

“I didn’t realize he isn’t that same kid anymore. I guilted myself into sticking with him.

He was my friend, if I didn’t help him who would? He needed me. He stuck with me too. You get the picture. When he told me to take the same elective as him. I had enough. I told you about the summer camp I went to. What I didn’t mention was that it was a camp where they teach you to stand up for yourself. ‘your needs are important too’ and all that stuff. So when I got home I asked my dad to help me convince the principal to make sure I shared as little classes with him as possible. I felt shitty doing it. But at camp I also learned that me tolerating Jan so long isn’t helping him. Mrs. Danvers was on the right path when she separated us last year. We both need to learn be us without the other. And maybe when we’ve figured that out, we can try again.”

Roman nodded along, his anger finally calming down completely.

“What did he say?” Virgil asked. “Janus likes to brag that he is fluent in Spanish and French. I didn’t know he’d also learned slang.”

“He learned slang alright,” Roman huffed, back in a bad mood.

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to get a rise out of me, which succeeded.” Why did he let that stupid word get to him? He should’ve just let it go.

“You sure you want to know?” he asked, not wanting to be the cause of more discord for his classmate.

“Yes. If it upset you that much, I do,” Virgil said firmly.

“Alright. Payaso, means clown,” Roman told him. Virgil nodded waiting for the other one. The one that had made Roman nearly see red.

“And… Chapero,” he felt his face reflect the distaste he felt just saying it. “It means- It refers to my…”

Roman gestured to his shirt, unwilling to say it aloud.

It was 2016! Being gay shouldn’t be looked down upon anymore. It’s just not right. That was what had bothered him really. Janus using his coming out to the school as a weapon against him. Especially because he lacked the spine to let Virgil know what he was saying.

“Seriously!?” Virgil growled already turning around, presumably to berate Janus on his behalf. Roman quickly grabbed the back of his hoodie to stop him. “We can’t be late. Not for him,” he reminded Virgil.

“You’re right,” Virgil agreed though he sounded extremely reluctant.

Soon they arrived in their classroom with a few minutes to spare.

Roman followed Virgil to a desk halfway the room. Not his own usual front row seat, but neither was it Virgil’s standard far back hiding spot.

“Well what do you know? My two favorite boys at one desk. Must be my lucky day!” Roman looked up from his backpack and saw that Stacey sat herself on top of his desk.

“Good morning to you too Stacey.” Roman offered politely. He knew it was his own fault, and she was his friend. But he was still a little jealous.

“Hi,” Virgil greeted casually, unknowingly making Roman feel significantly better. He didn’t look like he was very affected by the presence of a girl he was going out with.

“Ro. Guess where we’re going for our date?” Stacey asked, her eyes gleaming teasingly. She had called him last night to thank him and make sure that he was alright after being rejected. When he admitted he wasn’t technically rejected, he just panicked, she had burst out laughing. And now she was torturing him it seemed.

“No clue,” Roman admitted, noting that there was once again color shining through Virgil’s foundation. So maybe Stacey didn’t leave his neighbor as unmoved as he’d initially thought.

“The art studio! We’re going to go nuts on a blank canvas together. Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?”

It was a great activity to do together for two artistic people. Virgil clearly knew how to plan a first date. Stacey was going to love it.

“Well… It’s basically just hanging out,” Virgil corrected Stacey quietly. And Roman almost felt bad for feeling so relieved. He was getting emotional whiplash from this conversation.

“Yeah. What did you call it? Vibe check?” Stacey wondered.

“Something like that,” he nodded.

“Basically we’re going to roll with it as friends and see if we click romantically while we are pouring our souls out on canvas. No click? No hard feelings,” Stacey explained with a casual shrug. Then the teacher came in and she hurried to her seat.

During class Roman did his best to focus on the teacher. But every now and then his thoughts drifted to Virgil and what it would be like if he was the one going to the art studio with him. He imagined Virgil teasing him, because he wasn’t that great at drawing. Pretty soon they’d start painting each other and then… The bell rang. Right class, crush next to him.

The rest of the day went rather pleasant. At least until he was walking to his locker after Drama with Miguel and Kelly. He could hear a loud bang before they rounded the corner. There was shouting in the hallway and he and his friends hurried to break up what they were sure was a fight.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw Virgil was being held against the locker by his former best friend. Several witnesses were yelling at Janus to let Virgil go, but no one seemed willing to actually do something.

Virgil stared back at Janus with steady eyes. “No!” he stated firmly.

Roman had seen enough. He dropped his backpack and shouted at full volume.

“Let him go Bullard!” Everyone else fell silent. Janus looked over at Roman as did Virgil.

“I’ve got this Roman,” the shorter boy stated.

“I know. But you don’t have to do this alone,” Roman assured him, feeling Kelly and Miguel coming to his side. Time for Virgil to learn what it was like when your friends had your back.

“I texted the others. They are on their way,” Kelly informed him quietly. Roman nodded to show he’d understood her. Then he turned his attention back to Bullard.

“I’ll ask one more time. Leave him alone.”

Janus released his grip and Virgil barely kept himself from crashing to the floor.

“Think you can take me Castile?” he scoffed stalking towards him, putting himself between Roman and Virgil. He came to a stop a few feet away.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of getting me in trouble,” Roman replied firmly. His mother would murder him if he got detention.

“So you’re just talk then huh? Afraid to get your butt kicked in front of everyone? Trying to score easy points with Virgil? Hoping I’ll let you steal him from me that easily?” he taunted.

“Trying to repay him in some small way for saving my life yesterday. But none of that is any of your business. Virgil’s decision to finally break free from you has nothing to do with me, and everything with how you’re treating him. I don’t understand what he saw in you that made him stick around this long. But you took it for granted and now it’s done. Leave him alone,” Roman told him, hearing footfalls of his other friends arriving, once they were complete they started sending the crowd away.

“If you’re not going to help go to your classes.”

“No need for all of you to be late.”

“Go on. Nothing to see here.”

His gaze was trained on his opponent, but he could see and hear the crowd dispersing around them.

Janus’ eyes narrowed at him before his face and posture relaxed. He got a glint in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“What’s wrong Castile? Don’t want an audience? I thought you lived for the cheers of a crowd?” Roman let the words wash over him. If he didn’t get a reaction, he’d leave. He always did.

“Or maybe this is an exclusive event? Just for your little fanclub and Virgil? Is he your newest devoted follower?”

Roman quirked a brow. “You guys should head to class,” he told his friends.

“Ro!” Nora exclaimed in disbelief.

“You’ll all get in trouble if you don’t get to class in time. Now go,” he turned to Clara.

“Tell our teacher that Virgil and I will be there soon. I’m not feeling well and Virgil is looking out for me.”

“Making your friends lie for you Castile? Some friend you are.” That idiot really didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

“Or tell them the truth. Apparently Bullard want’s detention on the first day,” Roman corrected himself.

Clara nodded and his friends slowly walked away. Now Roman didn’t have to worry as much about holding back. He could convince one witness that nothing strange had happened if he used his powers. But all his friends standing so close? Not a chance.

“Now we’re talking! A private show, just for you Virge,” Janus looked behind him where Virgil was still standing, rubbing at his chest where Janus’ fist had pressed into him and looking at Roman with worry.

“Virge? You okay?” Roman asked, once more ignoring the taunts.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered as he moved towards him, but Janus gestured for him to stop and Virgil obeyed, so suddenly that it almost seemed odd… Was that a reflex from years of doing whatever it took to appease his friend? Or should Roman take a look to see if his adversary was using some kind of power?

Being gifted wasn’t very common, or at least, knowing you were gifted wasn’t.

Animotropolis was one of only a handful of places in the world that had an a system in place to help gifted people for a reason. Roman knew he wasn’t the only one in the program right now, even if he was the only one in hero training, but he’d never met other members before.

Was Janus one of them? Or maybe self-taught? He could find out with just a well-timed peak…

No, not with Virgil so close and clearly upset. Looking meant seeing everything. Including how this situation was truly affecting Virgil. It felt… intimate and like a betrayal of trust.

He wouldn’t unless it was necessary.

“Just get to class. I can handle myself,” Roman assured Virgil. He could get to their classroom trough the hallway farther back. And once he was gone, Roman would be able to see Janus’ energy, read his intentions and defeat him without either of them getting hurt.

“Stop mocking me!” Apparently Janus didn’t like being ignored.

Roman readied himself to block the punch and failing that, absorb the impact so he could defend himself. But he never got the chance to do either.

Virgil had made his way between them somehow and was now sinking to the ground in pain as he clutched his stomach. Roman was next to him in a second.

“V… I” Roman glared up at Janus, who was staring at them stunned, fist still raised.

“Messing with him emotionally and mentally isn’t enough for you? You have to resort to physical violence as well? What kind of friend are you?” he demanded. He knew that this instance hadn’t been aimed at Virgil, but he hadn’t forgotten that Janus had clearly been too forceful when pushing Virgil against the wall.

For the first time since he’d met him, Janus didn’t have a snappy retort. He just looked away in shame and left.

Roman turned his attention back to his apparent guardian angel.

“You okay? Should we go to the nurse?”

Virgil shook his head. “No. Dad will lose it if he knows someone actually hit me. Let’s just go to class. I’ll be fine by the time we get there,” he assured Roman.

“Okay… If you are sure…” Roman allowed reluctantly. “Thanks for catching that one, but you didn’t have to. I did some self-defense courses.”  More accurately he’s been trained in several forms of hand to hand combat for the past four years as part of his hero training.

“I would’ve been able to get out of harm’s way without hurting him,” he informs Virgil as he tries not to think about the fact that he, the superhero, had been saved twice by his romantic interest. And by the stars, it makes him like Virgil even more. Who wants a damsel, when they can have a knight in shining armor? Sometimes a savior needs saving. Then again, Virgil seemed like he could use some saving as well.

“I’ll remember that,” Virgil grinned trough his pain.

“Seriously though that’s the second time you’ve jumped to my rescue. Thank you,” Roman offered gently as he helped Virgil up and they both started walking to class.

Virgil grinned back at him through the pain. “Guess DreamPrince inspired me to be heroic,” he joked.

“He does seem to inspire a lot in you. I’m almost envious of him,” Roman admitted, not really looking at Virgil to hide his sincerity. “I’d love to be the one to inspire someone so much, artistically and the like I mean. Oh, that would be the dream. To be someone’s muse and have them be mine in return.”

Sadly Roman Castile didn’t inspire Virgil much. Not even remotely in the way Virgil inspired him. He was the one who’d made him want to be a hero. Thoughts of him had made him write monologues and characters, play and sing his heart out like never before.

He’s had other crushes. But Virgil seemed to be always there somewhere on the peripheral of his mind.

“That would be pretty cool I guess,” Virgil allowed, now seemingly back to normal.

“Are you sure we don’t need to have you checked out?” Roman worried. Virgil nodded firmly.

“I barely feel it anymore. He didn’t hit that hard,” he shrugged.

Roman decided to let it go.

The rest of the day went by without much trouble. Virgil even sat with Roman’s group over lunch. They didn’t sit next to each other for every class. Most classes they shared with a few of Roman’s other friends and they seemed to have decided that Roman had to be saved from embarrassing himself by method of constant supervision. So while they always sat close, they only shared a desk for English and History.

At the end of the day Virgil and Stacey left for the art studio and Roman couldn’t think of anything else than that all evening. That is until he got a text from Stacey.

“Awesome evening, no spark though. ;p Don’t blow it this time!”

Roman’s heart hammered in his chest. What was he supposed to do? Call him up right away?

No. He probably should wait for Friday. Hang out with him and see if sparks fly without the pressure of it being a real date. And if the evening sucked, well he had patrol after dinner, so that’d be too bad for any villains he came across.

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​ @cirishere​ @hestianerd1​

Passion and duty

Masterlist

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #janus sanders #hero au #fic #tw:slurs #tw: homophobia #Janus is acting not so great

[philliamwrites]

the fault in our stars

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Claude & OC

Tags: #multiple dimensions, #dimension travelling, #platonic love, #mentions of major character’s death

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Claude receives a letter that states someone is out there able to help him fulfill his goal of unifying Fodlan and Almyra. Signed, “The Witch.” Of course he doesn’t trust this, but curiosity killed the cat, and so he sets out to find her and see what kind of help she can offer. It turns out, this witch carries more secrets than anyone Claude knows can carry and he, gentleman that he is, gladly lands her a hand.

Notes: A commission for @iam-miscellaneous

the fault in our stars

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Claude whirled, an arrow nocked and ready, but it was just a little squirrel staring at him with big, round eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and it scurried off into the forest and disappeared.

Claude relaxed. The forest was quiet again since most of its residents had fallen into a deep slumber from which they shouldn’t wake up until Lone Moon. But Claude had read about dangerous creatures that didn’t fear the harsh Syopyr Taiga of the Galatea region, and stalked through the snow to hunt their prey. He’d much prefer not ending up inside the stomach of a moonbear or red wolf, thank you very much.

He should have brought Ákos with him. His wyvern was big and he would surely draw attention—literally the wyvern in a porcelain shop, but Claude would be save from any beast trying to have him as a snack. Also, Ákos was warm. Warm and with his white skin perfectly blending in between the snow covered pine trees that stood vigil like the statues of the four Saints in the monastery. But it would be hard for Ákos to move freely, so Claude relished in the comfort to know he was but a whistle away and would barrel down and crash through the woods to save him.

Were it not for the letter, Claude wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letter before him, its existence ever-present inside the pocket of his trousers as if it emitted heat, burning against his thigh.

I can aid you in your goal, wrote the mysterious person calling herself The Witch.

What goal specifically? Overthrowing Edgard? Unifying Fódlan and his mother land? Striking down the borders of discrimination and bigotry so people would finally stop slaughtering each other over the colour of their skin or what god they choose to worship? So many questions, and Claude hated any of them remaining unanswered. But for that, he had to find the witch’s cottage first and he’d been wandering through these woods for hours.

The Everglow stone certainly did keep his fingers from freezing in this relentless cold, but he knew he’d reach his limit soon and would have to return to base. He knew this time, Lorenz and Hilda would not allow him to leave so easily.

They’d been wary of it the moment the unknown owl had landed on Ákos’ head, carrying a letter addressed to “the Prince of a far away land.” Claude’s blood had run cold.

“Prince of a far away land?” Hilda had squinted at the paper spread out in front of them on the war table they kept outside under an open tent. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“And the things she offers, this ‘Witch,’” Lorenz had agreed sceptically, and thus luckily not noticed the quick glance Hilda stole Claude’s way. He’d always known Hilda knew more than she let people on, and Claude had given her one of his rare, tired smiles. She’d made a very serious, very un-Hilda like face, and turned back to the letter.

“I think I should check it out,” Claude had said, and their reaction was understandable, if a little too dramatic for his taste.

“If you die chasing this witch, could you die knowing you leave the Alliance in someone else’s hands?" Lorenz had said. That was very unusual for him. It had taken them five years to get there, and Claude wouldn’t just throw away that trust.

“What if she turns you into a frog?” Hilda had asked. That was very usual for her, and Claude was thankful for her effort to ease the mood after all the losses they’d suffered in the Battle at Gronder Field.

“Then you guys better start looking for a princess right about now,” he’d replied, his tone breezy when inside he’d been a storm. The only princess he knew had charged into the role of Emperor and would surely make frog leg soup out of him, and the only prince he’d known laid skewered without even a proper burial on a vast field that drank itself sick from all the blood spilt on it.

Things did not look good for the Alliance. As Claude had filed every advantage and disadvantage seeking out this mysterious person in alphabetical order, he looked at the owl that had delivered the message. Its black eyes were fixed on him expectantly, as though he should be well aware of what it sought as reward, but Claude didn’t know of course, and a second later, its sharp beak split open the skin at the back of his hand, drawing blood. It ruffled its feathers and took off to the sky, hooting in offence.

“Let’s hope you’ll start off better with this witch than her familiar,” Lorenz had commented, leaving Claude to tend to his wound. He’d hissed a curse, pressed his mouth against the wound and levelled a disbelieving look at his animal companion. Usually Àkos was no friend of man or animal. He barely tolerated Claude’s closest companions to saddle or care for him, but he’d allowed an unfamiliar owl to use his head as a seat, and peck at his friend and master.

Claude still pondered about that even after a week’s worth of travelling through the Alliance territory to reach the north of Faerghus. He didn’t like being short of options, but with the hand dealt to him by Fate, he could really use an ace up his sleeve.

The witch could have been more specific about her location though.

Come to the Okhotsk Forest and you will find me.

Well, that was a lie. He’d been out here for hours now, and still there is no sign of her, or her hut, or anyone living out here for that matter.

Claude would be mad furious if this turned out to be one of Hilda’s jokes. Though he doubted even she would go this far, especially during a time like this. War changed people. She wasn’t the giddy girl anymore, batting her eyelashes to let other people do her work. And yet he remembered this one time when his grandfather Oswald had celebrated the Leicester Alliance Founding Day and Hilda had written him a secret note to meet him, pretending to be his first crush. He’d been waiting in the cold until servants found him with a fever the next morning. But instead of getting angry, Claude was really impressed by Hilda’s lie and persuasion, and decided to have her as a friend rather than an enemy.

Claude shivered. Pegasus Moon was drawing its end. He could smell it in the crisp air—the time of new beginnings dawned. An opportunity for new plans, new schemes, and he wouldn’t be Claude von Riegan if he would pass up on them. That was, if he found his hopefully new ally. And just in that moment, he turned his head and caught sight of something dark in the corner of his eyes.

A hut.

Out of nowhere, a little hut stood in the middle of the clearing, looking as if it had been there since the beginning of dawn. It blinked into existence where seconds ago the forest ground stood empty. Claude blinked, thinking out of desperation he’d imagined it. But no matter which way he turned his head, what angle he leaned into, the hut didn’t magically disappear like the Fata Morgana he’d encountered during their trip around the Sreng Desert, where instead of finding one of the lost Saint’s weapons, they had stumbled upon an ancient, sentient beast.

Claude shook at the memory, feeling his mouth go dry just thinking about the scorching heat. Even days after their return to Derdriu, he’d found sand in places it wasn’t supposed to be.

Luckily, the forest was the complete opposite. It was eerily quiet. No birds heralded the spring, no foxes scurried through the underbrush in search for smaller prey. Among the blinding white of the freshly fallen snow that clung to everything, the black stoned hut with its small, red chimney looked like a picture out of a fairy book. Claude grimly remembered stories Dimitri had told him in front of the fireplace in one of the monastery’s big common rooms about a witch living in the deepest forests of Faerghus called baba yaga. Her house stood on chicken feet and she snatched away little children who went astray or lost their way through the forest.

But this was real. Claude had finally found her.

Approaching the hut carefully, his fingers danced across the hilt of the short sword attached to the belt around his hip. He wasn’t a fan, but since early days, Nader had taught him the way of the sword.

“You won’t always have the luck to find a bow,” he’d said after knocking little Claude to the ground for the fifth time in a single sparring session. Claude had endured without complaining, but he’d also made up his mind that day that the sharpest weapon on him would always be his mind.

Claude braced himself. Having finally reached what he’d been venturing to for the last weeks was wind in his sails, propelling him forward and lifting his hope. He knocked against the wood with his knuckles, once, twice. A third time.

Nothing.

Off to a good start.

“Hello?” he called through the door. His fingers itched to the letter as he wondered if he was supposed to say a secret code word. But he’d read the letter over a dozen times, analysed everything from the way she dotted her i's and crossed her t’s to how she constructed every sentence.

No secret password. No secret behavioural code. Nothing.

Claude decided to go for the doorknob. But when his hand hovered inches away from it, it turned by itself and the door creaked open. Claude shuddered. Inside, everything was dark. Heavy vermilion curtains didn’t allow any sunlight to stray inside. A minty scent lied in the air, not unpleasant, as if someone had recently taken a hot bath and thus steam still lingered in the air. He cautiously entered the hut, eyes straining to see any kind of movement. Everything was still.

Fabric rustled—no, not fabric. In one corner stood a perch, and on it sat the owl, regarding Claude with its black eyes. They stared each other down for a moment, in which Claude wondered if it had been the witch all along, playing with him. But the owl just regarded him sleepily, then turned around and chose to ignore his presence.

Claude allowed himself to relax a little. From outside, the hut looked small, barely the size of his bedroom at the monastery. But inside was enough space to hold multiple work stations and contain additional rooms to the east and west. One wall was completely lined with bookcases tall enough to reach the roof, neatly stacked with leather-bound books. When he looked closely, he could see gold letters shining off their spines. In front of if stood a large table that was buried under dozen maps, showing star constellations he’d never seen before. To his other side crinkled the fire place. A black kettle hung above it, and he could hear water boiling.

Claude approached the shelves standing beside the fireplace, filled with all kinds of different objects in containers and glass bottles. Glowing flowers, insects with rainbow coloured wings, sharp claws and large teeth swimming in murky liquid. He realised only then that he’d been expecting dead animals lying around with their abdomens wide open and jars filled with organs. But this place looked cosy. Like someone actually lived here instead of using it as a crazy laboratory.

“I see this place is to your liking?” sounded a voice from his right. Claude jerked back from the jar he was observing. He hadn’t even heard a door opening behind him.

She’d just appeared like a dream. Claude’s first thought was, She is very small, and for a moment he feared to meet with a child because he’d turned down the wrong path and missed his designated location completely. But then she opened the curtains with a flick of her wrist. Claude, blinded by the sudden light, flinched. He’d seen sorcerers and the like at the academy, had seen Marianne and Lysithea work their spells and yet he knew this girl in front of him was unlike any spellcaster he’d ever met.

Not girl, he realised as she stepped into the light, and he found her gaze linger on him. Those were no eyes of a young girl. For a brief second, Byleth’s face flashed in front of his eyes. Claude missed her. He did not look forward to face her once they’d reach the Imperial capital. If she didn’t come to him first.

“It is certainly … unique,” Claude said, moving back to the centre of the room with his back to the door. He didn’t like to be cornered, and though he guessed his chances weren’t bad facing an opponent a whole head smaller than him, he didn’t want to challenge Lady Luck. She didn’t appear to be very fond of him lately anyway.

“Shall we talk business then?” he quickly followed on, watching her move to the fire place. Taking the kettle, she poured steaming water in two prepared cups. He immediately recognised the smell, Almyran Pine Needles, his favourite tea. If there really was a spy among them, he’d have to find them quickly. Or she really was a witch and had insight in many things which meant he needed her on his side before Edelgard found her.

The Witch gestured to two heavy armchairs sitting in front of the fire and after a moment of hesitation, Claude crossed the room and sank in the cushions. Only then did he realise how exhausted he was from wading through knee-high snow. He took the cup from the witch’s small hands, but didn’t drink yet even though his body couldn’t wait to warm up quickly after the freezing temperatures outside. Besides, sometimes it was more about the company of a warm beverage. And he wanted to make sure she drank first to see if it was poisoned.

The witch took her first sip without hesitation, then looked at him daringly as if she knew exactly what he was waiting for. Claude didn’t trust her. But if she really would aid him, then he wouldn’t pass on that offer.

Bottoms up then. Tasting the nostalgic flavour, Claude immediately relaxed. There was the right amount of sweetness too, meaning she’d put in the right amount of sugar.

“Who are you?” Claude asked finally, the question burning on the tip of his month since he left Derdriu. The Witch took another sip. Her gaze roamed over his features, calculating yet at the same time somewhat caressing.

“A friend,” she answered, “who only wishes to see you win the war.”

Claude took that in for a second, allowing the tea to warm him from the inside. “I think I’d remember if I had someone peculiar like a witch as friend. And what exactly makes you think I need help?” he asked. “As far as I know, the Alliance is holding up pretty well.”

He had to test how much she knew. If there really was a spy, they had to find and eliminate them quickly.

The Witch placed her porcelain cup aside, and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, she looked like a mother about to scold her child.

“The Alliance is a powder keg about to explode,” she said calmly, yet with a voice that didn’t appreciate Claude trying to deceive her. “You can’t find a way to convince Lord Gloucester to join your forces and usually a nation divided does not win wars. Especially not against an opponent like the Emperor.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair, dragging his tongue over his lower lip, his mouth suddenly dry. Straight to the point, just how he liked it. “It doesn’t stop with getting old Gloucester to unite with House Riegan,” he said. “We need food, weapons. A new base of operation somewhere more central to send out our forces. Unfortunately, I doubt The Enlightened One will let us stay anywhere close to the Garreg Mach monastery.”

Something flashed in the Witch’s eyes when he mentioned Byleth. She pursed her lips, reminding him of Judith whenever she received a particularly unpleasant information.

“I see,” she said after a moment. “Your old teacher leads the Black Eagle Strike Force. That does make things more difficult.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Interesting how she knew about the Alliance’s status but not that his old professor was on the enemies’ side. “Difficult how?”

“Let me deal with that once the time comes,” the Witch said. Claude wasn’t happy. He knew trust was a little too much, too quick given they knew each other for about five minutes. But she could give him a little more to work with here.

“Pardon me, but so far you haven’t really convinced me to accept your help, little witch.” He had to test the waters, see how far he could go in before the current dragged him under. The witch didn’t even blink at this nickname.

She mirrored his movement and locked her fingers in her lap. “Let’s just say my knowledge about certain things would aid you greatly in winning this war.”

“What things, pray tell.”

“Your plan to fend off the Imperial forces stationed in Daphnel. You won’t be able to occupy it for a long time before the Imperial army takes it back. You wonder if those knights and soldiers are better off stationed in Goneril to guard your supply shipments coming from Almyra, but you can’t say if your people would prefer to see an assertive ruler adamant on fighting the Empire or a generous ruler who cares more about protecting and nourishing his people.”

Once she finished, only the crackling fire made conversation with the burning wood. Claude didn’t avert his eyes from her piercing gaze, and she didn’t shy away when he cocked his head to the side, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

“So you do know a few things about me,” he said, and now he was the one mirroring her movement, leaning in closely. “But if you know about what keeps me awake at night, what do you know about my enemies?”

“Enough to end this war,” the Witch said, her eyes blazing with resolve, “if you listen to me.”

Claude raised his hand and pressed his palm to his heart. “I promise, should there be method in this madness, I will lend you my ear and listen what you have to say, little witch.”

She exhaled softly. Relieved, and Claude wondered how much of that conviction she’d shown was act. But he couldn’t begin to doubt this early, for the doubt would eat away at him and just this time, he wanted to believe whoever was their benevolent maker, he’d finally nudged Claude on the right path. He’d been without hope for so long, he’d forgotten how it tasted.

Claude stood, antsy to get back to his city and scheme away and finally, finally turn this war around. “How long do you need before you can join me in Derdriu?” he asked, moving towards the door when he noticed a strange apparatus next to it, showing a circle painted in different colours and a little arrow pointing at the part that was coloured a dark purple. When he turned, the Witch had followed right behind him, and Claude took a step back in surprise, his back gently pressing against the door.

She was smaller than him, yes, but her presence filled the whole room.

“I will finish a few things here, and then I will meet you there,” she said. She stretched her hand and rested in on the doorknob. Claude stepped away, allowing her to open the door, and was surprised when he saw Àkos waiting for him at the door step, liking snowflakes off his snout. When Claude raised his hand to pat him, he sneezed in his face.

Claude pulled a grimace. “Good to see you too, my friend.”

The witch followed him outside, and for the first time since their meeting, a smile had strayed on her face. She offered Àkos her hand, and before Claude could tell her to be careful of Àkos’ sharp teeth, he sniffed her fingers and gave a little confused huff before leaning in and allowing the witch to caress his smooth, leathery skin.

Now that was unusual, and maybe just a tiny bit, Claude felt betrayed. He swung on Árkos’ saddle, immediately relaxing at the familiar feeling of his wyvern’s steady, warm body. Before he took off to the skies, Claude turned to the witch and said, “You have to tell me who spies for you inside the Alliance. I might hire them as my new spy-master.” But she didn't give him a name, she didn't even smile thinking it was a joke. Her gaze was fixed to the woods stretching before them, her jaw set, and Claude knew that look. It would stare back at him in a mirror whenever he tried really hard not to cry.

“Your name,” he demanded. “I still don’t know your name.”

The Witch straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I will tell you once we win the war. Once we win, I will tell you everything.”

* * *

Claude tried to wipe the exhaustion away with his sleeve, but closing his eyes for even a second ran the risk of him dozing off. There was still so much to prepare for their defence of Derdriu. He had to block off the city, occupy the naval port and lead the reinforcements to each city gate leading to the heart of the capital. There was no moment to rest.

Fresh air. He needed cold, fresh air to clear his mind and wake him up.

Outside, knights and soldiers on night duty greeted him. They had nothing unusual to report, everything was calm. No movement from the enemy so far. Somehow, that didn’t reassure Claude at all, though he couldn’t say if he’d rather want the opposite.

His feet carried him to the outskirts of their camp, and there it was—standing out from all the other tents was The Witch's tent, its leather roof mirroring the constellations of the starry sky. Judging from the light inside, she was still awake, probably pondering about the upcoming battle just as he was. Claude crossed the clearing and opened the front flaps only enough for his voice to come through.

“It’s Claude. May I enter?” he asked. Something rustled. As if paper was quickly wiped away. A moment later, her voice called back to him, “Please come in.”

He ducked and entered her tent. Again, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, yet just like her cottage, it was still simple. Instead of expensive, luxurious furniture, she decided to fill every nook and cranny with her magical apparatus’ and ingredients.

The Witch stood in front of a cherry wood table, wearing a simple, dark gown. From the way she tried to appear taller and held her hands behind her back, Claude knew immediately she was hiding something. He thought back to the sound of paper being quickly gathered and tried his shot.

“Writing to your lover?” he teased, settling in an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

The Witch blew back a black lock that stubbornly clung to her forehead. She crossed the room, and within a blink, the papers in her hands vanished. Claude gave an impressed whistle.

“He is more than that,” she said without any hesitation. “But are we lovers? No.”

“And how does one become become friends with a witch?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. She sat in the empty seat beside him, not bothering in the slightest about her posture. Claude liked seeing her relax around him. For the past few days, she’d been all over the camp, tending to the wounded or helping magic battalions with their spells.

He was surprised how easy it was to work with her. She effortlessly followed his train of thought and anticipated questions or knew exactly were to probe whenever he wasn’t certain about something and hoped no one else would notice. But she always noticed, as if she inherently knew his faults and weaknesses and therefore watched his back. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume this wasn’t their first time working together.

“I call everyone friend who offers me toffees,” the Witch said now, taking off her boots. Even though she’d been outside the whole day, there was no speck of mud on them, whereas Claude’s boots wore a mud crust he wasn’t proud of.

“Toffee.” Claude playfully stroked his chin. “I think I can supply some.”

“I would be so ever grateful.” She gave one of her rare smiles, growing slowly like the moon slipping slowly beneath the waves of a lake. Whenever Claude was capable of making her smile, pride bloomed in his chest.

He didn't know what it was about the Witch that made all the tight and careful knots inside his chest uncurl. Maybe that was what people meant when they said someone made them feel undone.

“How do you feel about our stand here?” he asked. “Do you think we’re prepared for Edelgard arrival?”

Immediately, she tensed, and Claude regretted bringing it up. They talked about tactics so much every day, they should be spared of it inside their tents, the only place of comfort and peace, but it seemed Claude had forgotten how to do small talk.

But the Witch just shifted her weight a little. “I don’t like lying to you, but the truth isn’t pretty.”

“I still want to hear it.” He needed to know their chances of winning. The truth might not be pretty, but more than that, he didn’t want to be lied to. He couldn’t say why, but especially from her, he didn’t want to hear a lie.

They held each other’s gazes, and Claude was impressed again by how black her eyes were. Darker than a starless night, he couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. Yet there was kindness in her eyes. Kindness and experience that told stories older than she appeared to be. But with no time to dwell on his theory, he tucked it away in a safe corner where he’d access it later. When this was all over and he’d have enough time to listen to her story.

After a moment, the Witch spoke, “I wish your success wasn’t depending on anybody else. I have prepared you to all my capabilities, but...”

“But we can’t say for sure what Edgard will do.” Of course they couldn’t. No one of them could read thoughts or look into the future. Claude was usually all for unpredictable variables to keep his mind reeling and working, but even facing Edelgard gave him more headaches then he asked for.

“No matter the outcome, I can promise that your city and its people will be save,” the Witch said. They’d been working together for a couple weeks now, but Claude had learnt early on that she kept her promises and it was nice to lean on someone for a change.

“That’s all that matters to me,” he confessed. “I don’t care what happens to me. But I cannot let down my people. The Alliance. Its future. It’s all that matters.” Because how else would he begin his peace-mongering without his Leicester Alliance unifying with his Kingdom of Almyra.

A dark shadow settled on the Witch’s face. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his features as if she wanted to commemorate them. Claude had to fight the urge to fidget, to flee from her keen gaze.

“The nation will learn how to move on when you are no more,” she said quietly. “But what about those you leave behind. Do you not care about your friends and comrades?”

“I care about what becomes of them after the Emperor captures my city and they are no more masters of their own fate.” Claude didn’t want to think about such a future. It would make him turn mad if he did.

“I know you think everyone has the might to forge their own paths. That fate is not absolute. But there are some fates you cannot change. You can only bow to them. Believe me. I’ve seen it many times. Too many times.” The Witch immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away as if that would undo the words she just spoke. Claude hesitated. He wasn’t equipped to handle her surprising honesty. Honesty meant being vulnerable, and he’d never seen her like this. Sometimes it was easier to handle battalions and war generals than raw emotions, and Claude was thankful for the distraction fluttering it.

The Witch’s owl, that had been sitting on its trusty perch, flew through the tent and settled on the Witch’s shoulder, nuzzling it’s soft head against her cheek. The Witch smiled and scratched its chin. In return, the owl hooted and then proceeded to give Claude an accusatory glare as if he’d been the very reason for its mistress’ distress.

“Your little friend doesn’t like me at all,” Claude observed a second time since making acquaintance with with her feathery companion. “It’s like I offended him in some way.”

“She,” the Witch said mildly, “is fond of you. In her own way.”

Claude doubted that. “An unusual way to show her fondness of people. Pecking at them. Must your secret friend also endure this bullying or is he spared of it?”

“She treats everyone equally,” the Witch answered, and now he could see amusement crinkle in her eyes like the flying sparks of a fire. “My friend is no exception.”

“And is he a wizard like you? Or like us common folk?”

“He is,” the Witch began tentatively, “a just, young boy who heard the sound of flowing water in a world of sand and thus began to believe in hope. And this belief is a strong weapon, but the strongest weapon on him is his sharp wit and gilded mind.”

“Sounds like you hold him in high esteem.”

“I would burn cities and dethrone kings just to see his greatest wish fulfilled,” the Witch said, her gaze burning holes in Claude’s eyes. Something hot whipped through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy. Hot-white jealousy burnt inside him to have a friend this dedicated to him. Maybe that was what books spoke of when they told stories about soulmates, and right now, his soul longed for a relationship like that. To be understood and accepted without having to give anything in return.

He took a deep breath, and banished those thoughts where they didn’t hurt. “Your friend sounds like someone I could become friends with.”

“Yes,” she said, turning her eyes away from his. “You two are quite similar.”

Claude wanted to know what it would take to meet him. To sit alone with him and have a chance at hearing all the Witch’s secrets, unravel them one by one and learn more about her. But she did tell him she’d explain everything after he won the war, and Claude held onto that promise like a drowning man.

After he wished her good night and left her tent, Claude remembered Nader had told him a story once. Claude, barely seven years old, had strayed into the desert bordering a small port city in Almyra where his mother loved to take him on vacation. After hours upon hours in the scorching heat, when he’d already made peace with the thought that the wide sea of sand would be his burial, he’d stumbled upon a small oasis. To this day, he remembered the sound of rushing water from the small waterfall and diving into the cool depths until he finally was found by Almyran soldiers looking for him. He’d never told this story anyone. Now he stopped, turned around and nearly ran back to the Witch’s tent only to be stopped when horns blared through the night’s quiet, waking up the whole city.

The Emperor had arrived.

* * *

Smoke rose to the grey sky that looked as if at any moment, the clouds would open to lament and cry. When she descend the cobblestone streets, her head a melody of pain and anguish, no one stopped her. No one could stop her because no one could see her as she hurried through tight alleys and corners, her spell making her invisible to the untrained eye.

The port stood abandoned. Now that it was occupied, there was no reason to guard it, and the Imperial troops had moved on to the centre of Derdriu where the important buildings stood. The embassy with its golden roofs, the Leicester mansion with its hundreds rooms and the famous Round Table.

But she didn’t care about silent stone monuments that would live to see another thousand years. She only cared for the one person who could have held it all together.

The Witch found Claude von Riegan lying on his stomach, his face drained in his own blood. The gaping wound in his chest still bled, a horrible hole left by none other than the nasty bone shards of Aymr. His eyes were still open but unfocused, staring ahead at the darkening sky.

Her stomach churned. No matter how often she saw him like this, it never got easier. The Witch sunk to her knees, and gently cradling Claude’s body into her arms, she whispered, “Forgive me, old friend. I was unable to save you yet again.”

There was no answer. As always, silence was her only companion, and grief her only caretaker. She teleported herself and Claude’s body outside the capital city where she looked for a secluded space outside the city, and using her own hands, she dug a grave deep into the earth. He deserved to be buried in his home land, the place he loved more than anything, but there was no time. There was never enough time.

She finished when the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and pink. One moment, she stood in front of the mound, and one single blink later, she walked through the front door of her cottage. Exhaustion bled her dry when the door closed behind her, and with a slow twist of her wrist, she turned the doorknob. A click sounded next to her, and for a second, everything turned black.

When light returned, everything was the same, and yet everything had changed.

On her way to the bathroom, she put water to boil in a black kettle hanging above the fireplace, and laid out a nice porcelain set of cups and Almyran Pine Needle tea for her guest.

The bath was already ready for her. She shed her dirty, ragged robes, and lowered herself in the hot water, feeling it immediately sooth her hurting limbs. As always, it took some time to clean the blood and dirt under her fingernails from digging Claude’s grave. She scrubbed herself raw until nothing was left of the previous world, and stepped outside the bath like a new born child. When she dried herself, she heard three sharp knocks at the door, and a voice calling out. Willing her new, clean robes to come and dress unto her with a flick of her wrist, the Witch took a last, long look at herself in the mirror.

Thirty tries. None of them had succeeded, and she was becoming so very tired of it all. With every try to save her friend, she’s learnt new things about the worlds and dimensions, and yet none had been enough in the end. She knew that chances to succeed were higher whenever Byeth was leading the Alliance. In some rare cases, in little pocket dimensions that would immediately dissipate when she tried to set foot in, the remaining Kingdom forces had joined the Alliance and victory would lay at the tip of her fingers. So close, and still unreachable.

But she would never cease her fight against the world that wanted to see her dear friend suffer and fail. Even if that meant bending rules, and changing to something that wasn’t human. She would make death bow to her, and once he was her servant, she would put her dear friend free of his curse of never-accomplishing happiness.

The witch squared her shoulders, and swallowed these thoughts and her still-fresh grief deep down where they didn’t hurt anymore. When the door quietly swung open, and she saw Claude von Riegan inspecting her shelf of ingredients, she said, “I see this place is to your liking?”

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #claude von riegan #fe3h claude #fe3h claude von riegan #fire emblem three houses claude #fire emblem three houses claude von riegan #fe3h original character #platonic friendship #dimension travelling #sort of au

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 4: Youth - Weeping Flesh And Bone Chap.1: Can’t Stop Those Feet From Sinking

Lancer has seen plenty of troubled youths over the years, but when it comes down to it? No one’s worried or concerned him like Daniel does. And no one’s left him feeling as helpless either.

Lancer’s used to worrying about Daniel, had worried about the boy all his young life. From the day he was born into a dangerous house and possibly negligent parents. He worried over Jasmine too, of course; but she had always done well for herself. Her future was to be a bright one.

He’d hoped the same for Daniel. And with Jasmine there, that hope felt founded. In the beginning, that hope seemed founded and actualised. The boy was bright and happy. He was bullied sure, but he had a strong future and the drive for it. The keyword there was ‘had’ though. Because Highschool came and Daniel just...

Collapsed.

If Lancer were to use the kind of terminology that would make the boy smile, he’d say that it was like Daniel was a star that just burned too bright and too hot only to suddenly die and annihilate everything nearby.

Where the boy was once happy and eager, he became paranoid and seemingly too tired to care about anything. Where there was once perfect attendance and near-flawless homework, changed to the worst attendance Lancer’s ever seen and it had been as if the word ‘homework’ wasn’t even a thing to the boy anymore. And that was without even getting started on all the destruction of school property or the injuries.

The injuries were when Lancer’s worry over Daniel truly made itself known again. Depression and abuse both crossed his mind. Or maybe the bullying was getting worse. But there weren’t any other signs really. And it wasn’t just him.

It was his friends too. Sure they never seemed as hurt or as tired or as tardy, but still. If this wasn’t Amity, he’d have worried that they’d gotten involved in gangs or even possibly drugs. Those were functionally nonexistent in Amity though.

How all three seemed to handle the injuries so well and clearly by themselves, hurt him inside a little, but could he really inquire about it? He tried. He tried many times. But he was always waved off. Always given an excuse or sympathetic look. Like Daniel felt bad for Lancer over him being worried. Lancer didn’t want to make Daniel feel bad and his talks with the boy never seemed to change anything.

So he dropped it. And instead just hoped the boy would be okay. He had close friends and a smart level-headed sister. Jasmine being close with him was what really made Lancer feel a bit better. She wouldn’t let anything truly bad happen to her baby brother. She would speak up if something was truly wrong. She’d come to Lancer or someone else qualified if Daniel needed it. In fact, she had done that once or twice.

Then she was gone. Left for university. And Lancer worried more. Sure he was so very proud of the girl, but Daniel honestly needed her to stay. Lancer needed her to stay just to sleep better at night. Because Lancer knew Samatha and Tucker wouldn’t reach out for anyone. Jasmine would get help if that was what was best and needed. But the trio would likely let one of them nearly die before seeking help, and even that was debatable. Lancer had hoped dearly that his increased worry was unnecessary when Daniel didn’t seem to get worse.

Until he did get worse. Lancer wouldn’t have even noticed if he didn’t watch the boy as closely as he did. Daniel was simply too good at hiding things and pretending. That honestly terrified Lancer. Just the same as catching the whiffs of alcohol or sight of hard pain meds had terrified him. And even worse, that seemingly coincided with the boy seeming less stable. He twitched often and that paranoia of his was near-constant. Lancer put it together quickly, Jasmine’s main focus was psychology. She wanted to be a therapist.

Well, it seemed she already had been a therapist. She had been giving him mental help. Which just made Lancer doubt that belief that she would take Daniel to get proper help if he needed it. Which just made him even more worried that something bad was happening. Yet still, Daniel wouldn’t talk to him. And trying just seemed to make the boy more tired every time. Lancer backed off again when Daniel started seemingly avoiding any classes with him.

He was silently happy when Daniel started actually showing to and choosing his classes again.

Because if Lancer couldn’t help, then at least he could keep a watchful eye. And he could do what he could and try to keep the trio all in the same classes, keep them together. At least then there was someone to take notes for him when he slept, skipped, or left.

But then they were gone too.

Lancer doesn’t know how it happened. Or why. All he knows is that between their junior year and senior year, Samantha’s and Tucker’s priorities changed. Sure he was happy to see them trying harder in school and doing better because of it. Their futures would arguably thank them. But the cost was Daniel.

Where the trio had once been inseparable and constantly there for each other, now Samantha and Tucker seemingly near forgot Daniel even existed. Like they were doing everything they could to have nothing to do with him. They would wave to him sometimes. Throw him smiles. But would physically and verbally avoid him. And the worst thing was...

Daniel seemed to just accept this. Seemed to understand. Like he thought this was for the best.

The boy didn’t try to chase after them, never engaged them first, went on like this was what was supposed to happen. Lancer had been too stunned to even ask what happened. To check-in with the boy. The pit in his stomach and the growing fear in the back of his head only grew when he noticed that Samantha and Tucker didn’t seem to get injuries anymore. How they seemed well-rested, happier, and arguably normal.

While if Daniel had been dancing on the edge of a cliff before, now he had seemingly plummeted off it. In the months it took for Lancer to put himself together enough to talk to the boy, he doesn’t think a single day went by were Daniel wasn’t noticeably injured. Listening to the gossip of teachers made it clear he was sleeping in nearly every single class, hadn’t touched any homework, and was effectively failing everything. Lancer’s breaking point had been running into him at the bottle recycle, with nothing but liquor bottles and energy drink cans.

“This looks worse than it is”.

Lancer had raised an eyebrow, “does it?”. He knew better than to push too much with the boy. Daniel had been shuffling and twitching enough as it was.

Daniel had shrugged while looking around and tapping his fingers, clearly wanting the worker to hurry up. “‘S not all mine”.

“Your parents’ don’t drink, Daniel”.

“Uh, it... doesn’t affect me as hard as other people?”.

Lancer had just sighed, had bitten back the retort of that just being what happens when people build up a tolerance by drinking too much too often. Instead had given the boy a sad look as he left with his depressingly large amount of cash.

That night he had had a hard time sleeping, seriously worrying over wondering if Daniel was in his room or off in the park, alone and curled up with a bottle. Or doing whatever it was that got him so seriously hurt. He was so terrified that he, and everyone else, would only find out when Daniel ended up in the morgue. When the teen was found bleeding out in an alley. Or unable to be woken up, wrapped in heavy blankets and a bottle on the floor. Or, everything forbid, at the end of a noose.

Lancer’s used to worrying about Daniel, but this was too much. Part of him had wanted to call Daniel’s parents, that idea had gotten him staring at his phone for well over an hour. But he already knew they had written Daniel off. He had tried to talk to them before, they just brushed his worry off. Even chastised Daniel for ‘making Mr. Lancer worry over a kid who’s just lazy’. And they either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Daniel had been shaking. Lancer had revisited the idea that Daniel was being abused that night. But there simply was no way Jasmine wouldn’t have spoken up about that. None.

So that worry, that he just simply couldn’t sit on anymore, was what finds him here now. Physically grabbing Daniel’s sweater sleeve to stop him from leaving class. Hating how the boy twitches violently and looks to Lancer like he was about to get attacked. Not for the first time Lancer finds himself wondering what kind of Hell the world has put this teen through.

“Yes?”.

Lancer knows he won’t get Daniel to open up to him. To be honest with him. So instead he’s blunt, “you’re not okay. And I wish you would tell me, or anyone, why. You’re always hurt and tired. You’re coping with liquor, Daniel. Something’s very wrong. And it doesn’t seem like anyone around you even cares. Your parents have seemingly written you off. Jasmine is away. And Samantha and Tucker seemed to have forgotten you even exist half the time”.

Daniel scratches almost harshly at his arm and flicks his eyes around, “it’s fine”.

Lancer tightens his grip on the boy’s sweater, noting how little of the sweater sleeve the boy’s arm was actually filling up. He wasn’t eating enough. “No it’s goddamn not”.

Daniel blinks at him owlishly and stills, Lancer thinks it actually looks a little bit creepy. “you... you just swore”.

Lancer flicks his eyes over Daniel’s face. Noticing the hollowed cheeks and eye-bags that could be mistaken for eyeliner. “Because I care, Daniel. I’m goddamn terrified for you. I’m scared you’re dying. That I’m going to wake up to the news saying you were found dead or committed suicide. You need some kind of help and you’re clearly not getting it”.

Daniel shrugs awkwardly, clearly trying to play things off, “uh, I’m, uh, just bad at life?”. Lancer can’t help but glare at that, watching the boy's shoulders slump a little, “sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. Just, please, just ignore me? I promise the town won’t have to, um, bury me”. Daniel grabs at Lancer’s hand like he’s begging, “I’m still here, that’s not going to change. So please, just pretend I’m okay”, shrugging and looking away, “um, eventually you’ll convince yourself I am”.

Lancer blinks, is that what his friends were doing? Just pretending he was okay? That he didn’t need help? “I can’t do that, Daniel”.

Daniel looks back to him and snaps, though it’s clear to Lancer that it’s out of tiredness, “and why the Hell not”. Then looking to the ground and leaning away from him a bit, “sorry. It’s just... it would be better. You don’t belong here. Er, involved in me and my, um, stuff”, shrugging and maintaining his staring match with the floor, “‘s not like anything can change”, shrugging again, “save yourself by staying out of it. You’re more, um, breakable”.

Lancer bends down and moves his head to look Daniel in the eyes, “that doesn’t make sense, Daniel. You’re young-”

Daniel snaps again, glaring a little and cutting Lancer off, “yeah well the truth doesn’t have to make sense, does it”. Shrugging and glancing around, scratching at his arm some more, “sorry. Look, just, I’ll be gone after this year. And you can just, um, forget about me?”, shrugging and mumbling, “everyone else hopefully will”.

This is the most Lancer’s ever gotten out of the boy, he has to push this. He has to. “Why? And no, Daniel, I will not just forget about you”.

Daniel mumbles again, “just gonna get hurt”, then looks up at him, “‘cause, just ‘cause. It’s better. You got a life, they’ve got futures. Just, drop it please?”.

Lancer can tell he’s referring to his friends basically pushing him to the wayside. Lancer sighs slightly, it seems like Daniel had simply... given up hope for himself. “And you don’t?”.

Lancer’s stomach clenches when Daniel responds with a firm sure, “no”. Lancer physically sagging and drops his hand from Daniel’s sleeve at the sight of mist leaving the boy’s mouth. Daniel always ran off when that, whatever it was, happened. And sure enough, Daniel jerks and snaps his head around, “just, forget you ever met me. Forget I even exist. Please. And I, uh-”.

Lancer waves him off defeatedly, “go”. He can tell that Daniel feels bad when the boy winces before rushing off.

While Lancer just sits on the edge of his desk. It was pretty clear Daniel was effectively alone and had no intention of changing that. Even wanted that. He was a house that had all its support beams smashed out, barely holding itself up at all. And there was something, some awful dangerous thing, haunting that house. Chasing off anyone trying to install new support structures.

Lancer goes home that night feeling honestly worse than before. And worried that all he had achieved was making Daniel feel worse too.

#ectober #ectober2020 #ectober 2020 #danny phantom #phandom #danny fenton #mr. lancer #angst #hurt/comfort #poor mr. lancer #mr. lancer pov #implied/referenced alcohol abuse #abandonment #bad parenting #self-destruction #self-sacrifice #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker

[werezmastarbucks]

coming back was a mistake

the reader bonds with kai over their shared dislike of mystic falls

kai parker x fem!reader

word count: 2494

warnings: language, the POV’s are changing

music: poa alpina by biosphere

This damn hole hasn’t changed a bit. The same old story: clean, tongue-licked glowing welcome sign. There we go. Then there will be this turn on the left... oh no, wait, bless, the road has been destroyed. The wooden white bridge connects this part of the highway with the town, and here we go. First houses, Livingstones used to live here, and their son was bullied by literally everyone at school, because he always had stupid haircuts. Word is, he’s dead. Welcome to Mystic Falls, the town where normal people can last up to one year.

Your house was still standing on the 19th November Street, cuddled by dry rose bushes. Apalling. All the other houses on the street have it together. The window sills are freshly painted and the porch is clean, the flowers are watered and cut, and then there’s this fucking outrage of a dwelling where the remains of your family reside.

You had to keep your act together but this town just infuriated you. You couldn’t understand why people would stay here when they could leave right after they’ve turned of age. What kept them? The charming crab-shaped park where everybody stored their dead bodies? The library on the main square where the entitled old lady has been residing for the last 500 years and telling you off for breathing? The blood-red clock tower dinging and donging every damn twenty minutes. No, wait, it must be the staggering fifteen streets. It must be the magic of running into your parents on the Market Street at ten am when you’re supposed to be at school. It’s the neighbors watch, the bored, jaded people’s desire to know everything about everybody. It must be all the supernatural jerks swarming here, killing everybody left and right, acting like their collective age is twenty years old. The fashion in this city has not changed since two thousand and thirteen, either. Nothing did.

The blood-red clock tower was still announcing the midnight hour through the dense hot air, the cars were still disgustingly clean like the citizens had nothing else to do except wash their cars all day long; Damon Salvatore still had the bitch expression on his face, fuming over the next this-just-in ghoul drama, pacing slowly in the living room of his ridiculous, always half-lit mansion with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Stefan was still miserable. Elena’s hair was still golden-black, smooth like a mirror, and you were still mortally tired of all this.

You could feel your negativity fill you up to your throat and eating on you as you drove up to the house and looked at it. The light was on, but nobody came out to meet you.

You were still coming once a year.

You sighed and turned off the engine, then left the car. It’s just a week. Then you can come back home and start pretending you don’t have Mystic Falls past again. The thought of going back home, running back like a rabbit, was what got you through every year.

You walked up the porch. The door wasn’t locked.

He liked this space here. The tenth row, seventeenth seat. He was like a cat, choosing the perfect spot. From here, he could see the clearing between the trees on the other side of the field, where a lady was walking her adorable huskie every evening at eight sharp. The dog was damn smart and the lady wasn’t. Kai had no idea how smart she actually was, she just didn’t look smart. The field below was empty now that it was summer and the eerie hollow feeling gave him a lot of kicks. The place that’s supposed to be full of people, literally made for big gatherings, the seats and all, empty, gave a special vibe. Looking around it, especially at the evening hour, when August was doing its best in the skies, was strangely nice. Nobody saw this side of Kai Parker when he was just sitting quietly, an expression of satisfaction on his face, on his chosen spot, and observed this quiet empty place like a little black king.

He saw somebody and went invisible in a second out of some instinct he couldn’t explain. It’s been some time since his presence caused an outcry of anguish among the party of people... a lot of time, actually. Nowadays, people would just roll their eyes. Don’t care. They’re the losers, living in this boring swamp, fidgeting with their pathetic drama every day. Kai didn’t know how they managed to tolerate themselves. And the hair! Everybody had this inexplicably perfect hair, glistening like they all wore wigs.

Oh my god.

What if they all wear wigs?!

Kai started giggling, thinking about that.

He was now looking at this girl in a crop top that matched the color of her skin. The girls do that, they wear the tops that match their skin which Kai finds very suggestive. Okay, you have all my attention.

Cruising around this unbearable place, he has familiarized with all the faces, and this one was new right away. She started running. You know how people usually jog, without a hurry, with the dumb light-hearted expressions on their faces, and the 90% of them always imagine they’re in some expensive automobile commercial. It helps them jof. This one ran. She did two tours around the field and stopped. Wrong, you’re supposed to walk or else your heart will burst. She stood, her hands on her thighs, her face up, and watched the sky. Kai had no idea why he was hiding from her, but he felt too comfortable now to manifest himself. She was listening to her music in her earphones and looking at the slowly drifting long clouds, and she looked like she was either pissed or very thirsty. Leaning a bit backwards, she just gave him the honors. The ribs were heaving, her stomach breathing for her. Her hand came up to her throat. Kai tried to picture her at the Mystic Grill, or on the main square; whether she looked similar to anybody he’s seen here; he looked at her hands and arms, the way she moved her jaw as if those pretty lilac clouds have done something to her and she was about to get even. She shook her head animalistically, getting rid of some thought. Girl, I know that. You’re trying to shake them all off through your ears, it doesn’t work. He felt for this pretty, collected lady who ran around the track like she was chasing somebody for a murder. Kai liked that kind of interaction the most; when he pretended they had connected. That they had a conversation. When nobody could argue with his illusion they had something in common.

He liked how she had her hair, a bit messy but feminine; the way she looked around dispassionately like she’s had enough of whatever shit she had going on. Like she seemed as if she was a separate entity. Her elbow pointed aside, with some kind of expectation.

Then she gave up. She put on a hoodie she’d thrown onto a first row seat and started walking up slowly. One, two three... four rows... Kai watched her curiously. He never doubted his magic. That’s right, not ever. You know.

But when she passed row nine he tilted his head. She came up to his row and started walking. Now, if she sits right on him, she will feel it. He will, too, and of course he won’t mind, but the girls usually freak out if they try to take a seat somewhere and there’s an invisible dude. Not that Kai had practiced it a lot. He just knew they didn’t like being stalked on. He didn’t really care. He doesn’t know her. If she’s a part of this town, screw her. She’s pretty up close, though, such a nice, frowning face, big eyes. She took the next seat to him and they almost rubbed shoulders. If she took off her earphones she would hear Kai breathe next to her. Instead, he was listening to slow ambient. It went well with the evening sky.

Together, they watched the huskie and the lady run around in the field behind the footbal field. Then she shivered a little in her hoodie. Kai wished he could read her mind when she started crying. When people don’t know they’re being watched, they cry in a very specific fashion. Kai was sure it wasn’t the huskie that upset her; it had something to do with her standing and watching the sky, rubbing her elbows with nervous fingers.

Or maybe she was unhappy with her running time, who gives a fuck.

You were watching this dude. The Grill did not appreciate him the way they should’ve. First of all, he was different breed. People come and go, but the type is always the same. This one was not the type. You had no idea who he was, but he was damn entertaining. Unapologetic singer. Stretching the notes like nobody was watching. Singing for the soul. He enjoyed himself the harder the more confused people looked, throwing awkward glances in his direction. His self esteem was on point as he expressed the ultimate artistic freedom through his bad singing, skipping the words masterfully and changing the melody on a whim. When the song was finally over, nobody clapped, and you felt that truly, he was the underrated artist, the local gem. Where Mystic Falls citizens cared for how others perceive them, he didn’t give a shit about it; while they side eyed their friends judging him silently, he was glowing with self-satisfaction. He was a bad singer, and a bad dancer; he chose an old song nobody knew, and did the finger guns at the DJ as he left the stage. A collective sigh of relief shuddered over the bar; you leaned over the counter, and the bartender nodded at you.

“Pass a cider to that guy. Tell him he saved my evening”.

Jerry was the name of the bartender. He was the new guy, because almost all bar people at the Grill were always human, which meant they died all the time. They all looked exactly the same though, and Jerry was no different from Evan, from seven years ago. Short dark hair, dimples, could star in American Pie. He smirked and nodded again.

The guy has just landed at the counter with a swing. He sighed happily as Jerry put the glass in front of him. You weren’t watching, because you didn’t feel like it; you made the sincere gesture of friendliness, no need to take it further. However, you should’ve known what would happen next. No good deed ever goes unpunished in this world.

You spotted him with the corner of your eye as he approached you, with the cider you ordered for him, and sat next to you.

“Well, that’s not too bad at all...” he started.

You turned to the guy - who looked rather like a boy who got stuck in his post-teenage phase - sharply.

“Please, don’t take it personal. It was not intended that way. It’s just a drink, so, drink it”.

For a second, he just watched you, as if challenging you for more talking. Then he shrugged.

“Somebody’s feeling antisociable today”.

And sipped a little from the glass.

“I usually take cocktails, the sweeter the better, just so you know”.

You sighed. A part of you knew you would regret it. But you still did it. Why? You looked in front of you, meeting your own miserable face in the reflection of the mirror wall behind the bar. The guy kept talking.

“I mean, it’s so nice to start acquiring the fan base, I guess, you can get a lot of things as a rock star. I’ve always wanted to be one”.

“You won’t be a rock star for your singing voice”, you noted.

Drinking alone at the Grill sometimes made you do weird stuff. But it was a tradition.

“Huh? You didn’t like it?”

“I enjoyed how much it confused everybody else”.

The guy expressed an ‘oof’ emotion.

“I’m sensing some xenophobia here. You hate this place, too?”

You didn’t answer. The guy sighed mockingly, as if he was pretending. He sounded like a hyperactive child, and in spite of your very self, you found him relatable.

“I say to myself every day”, he went on, in a slightly more serious voice, “Kai, today you’re leaving Mystic Falls. I’m not in the place where I can tolerate this boredom any more, you know? But this thing... keeps me here. I can’t wait to...”

You blinked and looked at him.

“Kai? Your name is Kai?”

“Uh, yeah”.

He clincked his glass on yours.

“Cheers”.

“What’s it short for?”

He didn’t look too proud saying,

“Malachai”.

You dropped your jaw.

“That is the coolest name I’ve ever heard. Malachai? Seriously?”

He lit up a little bit, straightening his back with praise.

“Yeah”.

“Dude, this is badass. Show me your ID!”

His dark eyes were laughing. You finally took a proper look of him. There was something foreign about him although he spoke very clear American English. It was a different kind of foreign: alien. Given it’s Mystic Falls, stagnating in its own revolving old routine, alien was good even if it was dangerous.

“You wanna see my ID?” he chuckled. He looked down on you with an adoring glint in his eye as though he was admiring something he saw. His reactions were inexplicable.

“Yeah, I wanna see how it’s spelt. Come on, Malachai, it’s so boring here. Show me”.

He sniffed through his nose.

“Okay”.

He had to stand up a little bit to take his ID from the back pocket of his jeans. You looked at it, visualizing his unusual name. Malachai Parker sounded fucking elite. He’s come a long way from Oregon, too. You wondered what he was doing here and was about to ask, but your glance got hooked on the year of birth.

“1972? You were born in...”

Frustration filled you slowly like lake water. Of course, the only interesting, good-looking character who’s fun enough, will be one of the messy freaks, here. You passed the card back to him.

“Are you one of them?”

Malachai didn’t look confused or insecure which further advanced your disappointment.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin, playing with you.

“I’m not having this tonight”.

You downed your glass, feeling earthly tired. Like the earth. The Earth, that’s billion of years old, like that.

You stood up to walk away.

“I’m not one of the vampires”, Kai chanted, turning on his seat.

You shrugged.

“Even worse”.

He watched you as you went, his eyes not leaving your back until you were out of the door. Then he realized he still didn’t have your name.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries

[foreverfangirlalways]

What’s Your Name (Chapter 3)

Title: Meme Coffee and Deals

Summery: Virgil and Logan flirt, Virgil give Critic and Emile the brother talk, and we finally meet Patton’s boyfriend!

Ships: Analogical, RemyxCriticxEmile, Moceit

Warning: teasing, threats, foreshadowing, pastshadowing(?), obvious gays being oblivious, biting

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(please give some love to my wonderful cowriter @star-crossed-shipper, as well as @kuroyurishion, who has given me quite a few ideas for future chapters!)

/Ari_The_Storyteller’s comment made me come up with some of the dialogue in this chapter, so thank you!\

<Everyone go praise @winterknight1087, because if it wasn’t for them and some very helpful ideas, I probably wouldn’t have finished this chapter >

*if you want, message me or comment with theories of what happens next! I’ll credit you of course, I just want readers input on how the story should go!*

—-

Virgil woke up to the sound of ‘Mr. Sandman’ by The Chordettes.

“Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum-“

“Hey Remy, what’s up?” Virgil answered his phone, still sleep deprived and trying to make up for it.

“Gurl, wake up! It’s almost 10:30, and you have to be here by 11 for a brunch to meet my new baes!”

Virgil shot up at Remy’s words. “When the hell was this planned?”

“Around 9 last night when Emile, Critic, and I all did a group call. They want to see you. So get your skinny behind here now!”

Remy hung up and Virgil threw his phone on the bed while frantically running around his dorm, trying to find something to wear.

Once dressed, he grabbed his phone, wallet, and booked it all the way to Bitchin’ Brews.

The clock on the wall above the counter said 10:45. ‘Huh, new record.’

The hot barista from yesterday is staring at Virgil. “Salutations. You just couldn’t wait to see me, hmm?”

Virgil was bended over, catching his breath. But he still found the strength to flip the barista off.

He heard a slight chuckle, then Remy exploded out of the office. He ran to Virgil and scooped him up.

“Anxie! You came! And in record time, what did you do, run the whole way here?”

Virgil struggled out of Remy’s embrace, and then nodded.

“Yes you dumbass! And I still can’t breath, so no hugging!”

Remy walked backwards with his hands in the air, a sign of surrender.

“Fine fine. Now, Emile and Critic will be here at 11:25, so you have a little while to fix your hair and choose your drink!”

Virgil almost smacked him. “Bitch, the whole reason I ran here was because you said they would be here at 11!”

Remy, with no apparent fear of death, walked up to Virgil and whispered in his ear.

“Yes, I lied. But now you can flirt with your future boyfriend! Have fun!”

Before Virgil could reach up to properly strangle Remy, Remy rushes off to his office. “Order you anything babe. It’s on the house.”

Virgil scowls, and Remy’s giggles can still be heard after he shut the door.

Virgil turns to the barista, who raises his eyebrow.

“So Babe, what will it be?”

Virgil points threateningly at the barista and stalks over. Which, in all honesty, would have been a lot more intimidating if Virgil’s hair wasn’t a mess of a mop and his breathing wasn’t still off.

“Don’t even with me right now. That is not my name, so don’t call me that. I barely allow Rem to call me that!”

The barista crossed his arms a leaned forwards. “Oh? So are you going to tell me your name then?”

“Yes.”

The barista blinked. “Really?” He asked, tilting his head. Logan didn’t entirely believe the suspicion stranger, but if Anxiety was willing to drop the whole, ‘I-don’t-find-you-attractive-and-am-keeping-my-name-to-myself’ charade, Logan would gladly say he was wrong.

Violently rolling his eyes, Virgil sighs. “No, but you can call me Anx. One ‘Fuck You Frappe’ please.”

Shaking his head, Logan set to making the drink and thinking. Remy gave him permission to flirt, and he is going to use that permission to his full advantage.

Once Logan is done with the drink, he holds it out and sees an opportunity. He smirks, pulls the drink back at the last second, and intertwines his and Virgil’s fingers instead.

Virgil, who just fixed his hair and calmed down, was now more red then the pepper decorated bean bag Remy insisted was a necessary seat.

“How about this pretty boy. You tell me your name, and I’ll take you out on a date.”

Virgil pulls his hand away and holds it up to his chest. He glares at Logan, but isn’t able to put much heat into his gaze, because it is all in his cheeks.

“Nope. Nuhu, no way. Not gonna happen.” He also shakes his head, as if to drive the point home.

The barista looks unconvinced, and Virgil gets an idea.

“So, What is YOUR name?”

Logan stare at Virgil, dumbfounded. ‘That’s new.’

“No. I am not telling you my name until you tell me yours. I asked first.”

Virgil scofts, pitting his hand on his hip. “Well, I’m obviously going to learn yours first.”

Logan leans close to Virgil, and smirks. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Now hand me my frappe, I need a drink.”

Logan gave Virgil the frappe, but grabbed his hand when he turned to leave.

“How about a wager than? If I learn your name first, you go out on a date with me. And if you learn my name first...”

Logan pauses, and then gets a sad look across his face. “I know what you would want. If you learn my name first, I’ll leave you alone.”

Logan looks extremely crestfallen, and Virgil realizes that he doesn’t want that. Blushing, he blurts out...

“Or you could give me your number.”

Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth, and stared at the barista.

Logan stared back, openmouthed, then slowly started to smirk.

“Oh, so now you want my number?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes than huffed a breath. “I just... don’t despise you company and wouldn’t mind keeping it, but if you don’t want me to have it...”

“No!” Logan rushes out. “That’s not what I meant. But a number does seem like a rather weak prize, so how about we exchange numbers now, and I will grant you one magical wish that I am capable of preforming?”

It was Virgil’s turn to stare openmouthed. A fae wish was nothing to take lightly. The fae hated being indebted to people, and could grant the wisher anything they desired, without the trickery that comes with genies.

Logan smirked and tapped Virgil’s chin with his finger, making Virgil snap his mouth closed.

“So... do we have a deal? First person to find out the others name and call them by it wins?”

Virgil was thoughtful for a moment or two, then nodded.

“Deal.”

As soon as the two shook hands, they shivered from magic entering them. A dark blue rope of magic intertwined with a deep purple rope, sealing the two together then poofing away in a burst of glitter before evaporating.

Virgil and Logan stared at eachother, and then someone cleared their throat behind them.

Virgil whirled around, wrenching his hand from Logan as if he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar... in a cookie factory. And his pants were down. And on fire. Virgil looked up at the balking couple standing in the doorway.

“Pat, Jan, hi! How are you doing, how long have you been standing there? Please don’t be mad!” Virgil rambles out while rushing up and hugging them both.

Patton squeezed Virgil while trying not to squeal, and Janus hugged Virgil while glaring at Logan.

“Hey kiddo! How have you been? I’m guessing you took my advice from yesterday.” Patton giggled then skipped over to the counter.

Virgil stared at Patton, trying his best to communicate ‘please shut up, please no more, please drop it’.

Janus clasped Virgil on the shoulder, and Virgil realized he was mentally begging the wrong person.

With a smile bordering on simply bearing teeth, Janus started leading Virgil towards the counter and Patton.

“Why would we be mad? Is there someone who deserves our anger? You always told us how much you distrust fae, and would never make a deal with them, so should I take this gentleman outside for a chat?”

Janus spoke in a calm and even tone, almost light, but his expression was becoming murderous.

“Nope! No, no need for a chat, communication is all good on my part! You were watching so you know that we were just basically...” Virgil trailed off, looking for the right word to describe the interaction without making Janus turn Mr. Hyde.

“Flirting!” Patton suppled. Virgil stutters, and Remy walks out of his office where he was watching the whole interaction on the cameras.

“Before you even try to deny it, you were flirting, I was watching.”

Virgil pauses to process that amount of betrayal.

Taking advantage of Virgil’s silence, Janus turned to Logan.

“So you made a deal to find out my purple friends true name, hmm? And just why would you do that? Running out of victims to enchant?”

“Deceit, drop it.” Remy growls out. Typically Remy and Janus were super close knit friends, but Remy will not stand for someone insulting his employees.

“No no, it’s fine. Deceit is clearly close with Anx, and I can understand his worries from Anx’s reservations.” Logan then turns to Deceit and looks him straight in the eyes, holding contact.

“I want Anx’s true name because I find him immensely attractive, and he holds wonderfully intriguing conversations with me. I am willing to work for his name though, and I already have Remy’s permission to court him, may I have both of y’alls?”

Janus looked faintly impressed at Logan’s ability to hold his own. Virgil was glaring at Remy, who apparently ‘gave permission?’ Like, what the fuck?!

Patton looked extremely pleased with this whole ordeal, and grabbed Logan’s hand to shake it.

“Well, you seem like a wonderfully sweet person who cares for my little Anxie immensely after only knowing him for a short time, so you have my blessing! My names Patton, by the way. I’m a Cupid!”

Janus facepalmed while Logan just smiled, not looking the least bit surprised. Rolling his eyes, Janus decided to go ahead and cede.

“If you are enough for Remy and my boyfriend, then I guess I can tolerate you. My name is Janus, and I am a Gorgonial Shapeshifter. Which, before you ask, means I can only turn into snake like creatures.” Patton releases Logan hand and Janus immediately grabs and squeezes it. Hard.

“And if you ever so much as spill a bit of coffee onto his hand, I will kill you.”

Janus looked calm, Logan looked unnerved, Patton looked exasperated, Virgil was trying to compute the last 10 minutes and looked confused, and Remy was staring at the door that just opened.

“Emile! Critic! Hey babes, how are y’all feeling? Ready to meet my friends?”

They walked forwards in almost synchronize steps, and Critic tilted his head.

“Why do I feel like I just walked into the peace after the Cold War?”

“Because you basically did. Hey Critic, Hey Emile. Find any new interesting emotions?” Janus asked, trying to keep the delicate peace.

“Yeah! Right now those two are giving off a mixture of pinning, anxiety, want, fear, and curiosity.” Emile said while waggling his finger back and forth between Virgil and Logan.

Everyone blanched, staring at the two, and Logan asked, “How?~”

Critic spoke up to explain, since Emile ran into Remy’s arms and kissed him on the cheek.

“Emile is a Animi Motus Siren. Animi Motus means emotions in Latin, so he is basically a Siren that adheres specifically to emotions.”

“Wow,” Virgil said, “no wonder you are the top student therapist!”

Emile nodded but looked a little shy. “Yeah, my gift can sure come in handy! Now, how about some coffee!”

“But of course. Salutations, welcome to Bitchin’ Brews, what would you like to drink?”

After ordering, everyone sat down at the ‘King Arthur’ table, as it has been dubbed. Logan walks over with a tray full of drinks to pass out.

“Fre Shavacado Macchiato for Remy, Dropped Croissant Cappuccino for Critic, Five Gum Feeling Frappe for Emile, Oovoo Javer Americano for Patton, Fuck You Frappe for Janus, and a Damn It Karen latte for my favorite nameless emo.”

Once Logan was all done passing out drinks, Remy told him to sit down, and the only seat available was next to Virgil. How peculiar.

Emile took a sip of his drink and beamed. “This is amazing! You did a very good job! Oh, and his name i~”

“NOOO!” Virgil screamed, almost lunging over the table. Emile looked slightly terrified, Critic looked suspicious, and everyone else just looked amused.

“Emile, please, for Remy’s sanity, please just refer to me as the nickname Princey gave me.”

Tilting his head and taking a long sip of his drink, Emile nodded.

“Ok Anxiety, but why?”

Virgil collapses back in his seat, and Logan leans forward and looks rather smug. “Because if I find out his name first, he has to go on a date with me.”

Critic looked at everyone’s expression of various joyous exasperation, and says, “Well in that case...”

“No please Critic don’t!” Virgil cried. “Babes, maybe later. Give Anx a little chance.” Remy smiled. “Now now, don’t be like Jerry and let Tom out of the bag!” Emile referenced. “OH BOI! OH BOI! OH BOI! OH BO~” Patton bounced. “SSSSSSSSILENCE!!” Janus hissed. Logan simply placed his hands over his ears and waited.

Once everyone calmed down and Critic finished laughing, Janus question Logan on what he was doing.

“I’m simply making it fair. I would appreciate any hints, and I would give hints in return, but for someone to outright tell me on the day the bet was made would be cruel.”

Logan immediately moved down two names on Janus’s hit list by giving that response, and everyone gave nods of approval.

Even Virgil looked greatful. ‘Maybe he really is a good guy...’

“Anxiety is named after a Roman Poet!” Emile and Remy called out, almost at the same time. Virgil looks deeply offended and turns to Logan. Logan simply nods and says, “Interesting. My name is shared with a superhero.” Virgil smiled at Logan, and then Patton giggled.

“Well, I think you need a nickname, because I don’t know how long I can hear Anxie call you, ‘the hot barista’ and not tell you his name.”

Virgil banged his head against the table to keep from strangling Patton, and Logan rubbed his head.

“There there, don’t fret. I’m flattered.”

Virgil leaned into Logan’s touch for all of 3 seconds before swatting his hand away and hoping no one noticed.

Everyone noticed.

“How about... Logic? Because he is like, the smartest freaking person I ever met and can win a debate while sleeping. And I say this from personal experience!”

The table laughed at Remy’s words, then looked at an extremely smug Logan.

“So how about it, Logic?”

Logan thought for a second, then nodded. “That name is quite satisfactory.”

“Hey guys, why don’t we play truth or dare to get to know eachother better!” Emile suggested.

“That sounds fun babes, but why not 2 truths and a lie?”

“Because Logic is fae, obviously.” Critic explained.

“Damn it Remy! How many people did you tell?”

Remy stared at Logan with an expression that so clearly said ‘bitch please’.

“Asshole, don’t blame me for you being a dumbass. You are hella obvious. Plus, you aren’t wearing the hat so your ears are showing.”

Logan gasped, felt at his ears, then looked pissed. But at himself, not Remy.

“A game sounds like an awesome idea!” Patton, was still bouncing and seemed to be getting worse from the coffee. Janus shook his head in fondness and took the cup away from Patton, which resulted in a bit of whining, chiding, a kiss, and Patton holding a cookie in each hand.

Rolling his eyes and muttering something about Janus being whipped, Virgil said, “Well, now we know every one so~”

“Wait!” Logan called out, and everyone turns to stare at him.

“Since you all told me what you are, I find it is only fair to inform you that I am a...”

Logan trails off, clearly thinking about something before clearing his throat to continue.

“I am a High Fae.”

There was a collective gasp, and Remy looked betrayed.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “It’s not exactly something I boast. It’s really barely different from being Midten Fae.”

“Of course, other than the fact that you are of noble decent.” Janus rolled his eyes.

“I... prefer not to dwell on that. Anyways, Anx?”

Virgil, dragged out of his spiral about Logic by his words, shook his head to clear it.

“Also, before we start the game, I would like to inform Critic and Emile that I am Remy’s little brother, also basically his protector, and while I may only be human, I also happen to be best friends with a dramatic prince who like to show me the proper way to play with swords and knives.”

Logan wondered who this prince was, and why everyone found that remark so funny.

“Basically, all good things, all good here. And I don’t want to hear your intentions, please spare me~”

Remy walked over and smacked his hand over Virgil’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Now, who wants to play truth or dare?” ...

“OW, DAMN IT ASSHOLE, YOU BIT ME!!”

---

Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@thefingergunsgirl

@kawaiikat54

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@007ardra

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@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

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@star-crossed-shipper

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@mushroom-dance-mushroom-dance​

@resident-trash-goblin

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@pattoncake-and-eyeshadow 

@drewwwbydoobydoo

@sure-i-exist

@sophiexteresa

@glitched-cookie

@wellhellothere09

@seraphlies

WYN? Taglist-

@tranquil-space-ninja

@antiredhuman

@enby-phoenix

@tired-yeetling

@gothfoxx

@grouptalekindnesssoul

@pricklyfish777

@winterknight1087

#What's Your Name? #Analogical #Mociet #CriticxRemyxEmile #Logan #Virgil #Janus #Patton #Remy #Emile #Critic #Flirting #Fae #cursing #Sanders Side #siren #cupid #shapeshifter

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[fredweesleyismyslut]

You could do better - George Weasley x reader fluff

A/N: Hey, guys! It’s been a while since I’ve posted because I recently started college this week and I’ve been so busy.  I mean so far my classes are okay but see me in a week and I’ll probably be stress crying in the shower so...yeah lol.  Anyways, I wrote this yesterday during my empty period after my freshman seminar class because after that class I literally have 2 hours before my next class which is spanish and LET ME TELL YOU, spanish is so boring(not the language itself I love the language) the class is boring because I signed up for elementary spanish thinking that it’ll be harder since yknow it’s college but the shit that the teacher is teaching is literally stuff from like spanish 1(and I’ve taken up to spanish 3 honors so for me it’s really easy and basic).  I mean, I’m not complaining because at least it’s a class where I probably will know everything because it’s kinda just pick me up so I can remember my spanish from highschool.  Anyways, this was really long sorry lol, so enjoyyyy! :))))

You looked around the fields towards the great lake and watched as people walked by laughing and going about their days.  Your boyfriend, George Weasley, and his brother Fred were talking about elaborate plans for their shop that they wanted to open up.  You knew their mother didn’t really agree with it but you didn’t tell her their plans because George’s happiness was yours and that was his dream so…  Today, they were making plans to test their new “totally safe” products on the first years in the common room.  You tuned them out usually because you didn’t understand half the stuff they were talking about.  Suddenly, you felt a soft nudge on your shoulder as George was nudging you with his nose softly, “Hey, we’re gonna go ahead and start giving out our products so we can see how these work.  I mean we’ve obviously already tried them on ourselves but we need feedback.”  You chuckled softly and nodded before leaning into him slightly.  George took the hint as he leaned down to nuzzle his nose to yours before placing his lips gently against your lips.  You felt the corners of his lips curve up slightly in a smile before he pulled away leaving you wanting more before he got up with his brother, who waved at you slightly while puckering his lips out, mocking the two of you.  You shoved Fred’s arm softly before waving back at him along with George as they walked up to the doors to get in.  Sitting under the trees you breathed in the fresh air, letting it fill your lungs, before contentedly breathing out.  It was so peaceful out you felt like you could sleep out here for days.  A darker shadow cast over your features making you glance up to see a head of silver hair and two larger bodies standing next to him.  It was the one and only Draco Malfoy, you didn’t like him much due to him constantly making fun of your boyfriend and friends, which you didn’t tolerate.  He had never been mean to you but nevertheless you didn’t like him.  “I see your Weasley boyfriend is gone.  You should really learn to choose your friends better, y/n.”  He smirked, staring smugly down at you with his two goons behind him looking dumb as ever.  “You really could do better without that Weasley twin.  I mean what can he give you, hand me downs.”  At this point, you were trying your best to ignore him but your anger got the better of you, “Don’t worry Malfoy, I’m sure I know how to choose my friends.  I mean I’m not friends with you right?”  You smiled back at him, standing your ground.  Your parents were friends with his since they were powerful workers at the ministry but they were really kind people and taught you to always be accepting of people’s backgrounds.  They loved George and the Weasleys and never treated them differently due to their money status because they were lovely people.  Draco seemed unhappy with your comment as he scoffed before he smirked again, “Well, maybe your eyes haven’t been working lately.”  he said back as he looked down at you trying to see what your expressions to act upon them.  You felt the blood boil beneath your skin as you stood up, “I can tell for myself what’s good for me and what’s not.  Unlike you I don’t need my daddy to fix everything for me like a little bitch.”  You smiled up at him as you shoved his shoulder aside and walked off until you felt a hand touch your back as you fell forward.  You braced yourself with your arms as you felt the scraping of the ground against your skin.  The pain seared against your arms as you felt the blood starting to come out and glared up at Draco trying to hold back tears of frustration.  You really didn’t want to cry in front of him so instead you got up and slapped him across the face as hard as you could, feeling the skin smack against your hand as the sound reverberated through the peaceful ground.

Quickly, before Crabbe or Goyle could do anything you ran up to the doors and ran towards the common room where you knew Fred and George were.  You felt the tears pooling in your eyes along with the feeling of blood running down your forearms.  As soon as you found George you felt the feeling of relief rush over you as the tears finally came out.  You ran towards him as you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in his chest.  His arms automatically wrapped around you as if it was his natural instinct to protect you.  His hand stroked your hair as his other hand grabbed your chin and lifted it up.  “You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, eyes filled with concern and you felt the stares of other students around you as you shook your head.  As if he could read your mind, George gave Fred a look and Fred looked around and yelled out in a showman like voice, “Alright Alright, let’s get back to these sales because they’re not lasting forever.”  George pulled you back as he looked you up and down and his eyes rested upon your arms.  You saw a flicker of something that you recognized as rage before they were replaced with concern again as he grabbed your wrist.  He lead you out the common room and to where you knew where Madam Pomfrey was.  As she patched you up you watched as George sat with his arms flexed and although you knew you’d have to explain what happened, you couldn’t help but admire the way the muscles in his arms flexed and his jaw clenched in anger.  Once, she finished George leaned over onto his knees as he asked, “Who did that to you?”  You looked down, “Malfoy and his posse.  They were...making fun of how I’m with you and anger got the better of me and I snapped back and one of them pushed me.”  you saw his jaw muscles flex in more anger so to ease the anger a bit you said, “But don’t worry I made sure to slap him right in the face so hard he probably saw stars and cried said that his father would hear about it.”  George laughed slightly as he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist, as if you were made of glass, as he stroked the bandages wrapped around them.  “I’m gonna make sure to beat his ass for even laying a finger on you.” he whispered before kissing your forearm and then your forehead.  Shaking your head you replied, “Please don’t.  I don’t want you getting in trouble you already know how Umbridge favors him.” you looked at George as he nodded, “And your mom would probably kill me for letting you and Fred get in trouble again.”  He nodded again as he kissed your lips gently and you could feel his chapped lips moving against yours in sync as you ran your hand along his neck, feeling the muscles move underneath his skin.  “I love you, y/n.  I’ll try not to beat his ass but if he even touches a hair on your head I’m not gonna even give him a chance to cry for his father.”  You both stared at each other in content before bursting out in laughter as he kissed each part of your face before stopped at your lips as you muttered back, “I love you too, George Weasley.”  His green eyes stopped to look at yours as he smiled gently, feeling content just being in the presence of each other.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #weasley #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter smut #harry potter x reader fluff #harry potter x reader smut #potterhead #harry potter blog #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #fluff #smut #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader smut

[phoenixtakaramono]

This was the second time they’d held hands. Fingers threaded together, palms touching. A significant amount of information could be communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand—the shape and texture of it, the roughness or softness of the life they’d led, and the strength or fragility of their grip. Luo Binghe would remember the feeling of that pale hand gripping his tightly for the rest of his life.

The mist billowed under Luo Binghe the moment he was allowed entry into the dream realm of the divine. Instantly, he was besieged with the feeling of falling into a frozen lake. The cold was a shock through his body, forcing his hand to convulsively clamp down as he stumbled.

Foolish, Luo Binghe berated himself. To have been finally welcomed inside the dream realm of a celestial being meant this version of his shizun had thought highly of Luo Binghe and his constitution. Yet instead of a composed and dignified air, Luo Binghe had just shown his weak side.

Shen Yuan halted midstride. Concern was written upon those white brows upon seeing his reaction.

It was, nonetheless, an opportunity. Luo Binghe forced an amiable smile as he pretended to be oblivious, masking any sign of his discomfort as he leaned against Shen Yuan’s weight. The sensation of pins-and-needles assailing him wasn’t something he couldn’t tolerate, but it was unpleasant. Except for their one point of contact, no part had been spared. His gaze lingered on the long scholarly fingers wrapped trustingly around his, before sweeping a glance over their new surroundings.

He felt like he’d stepped into a world composed of silk screens. Ahead, the fine mist passing through the painted scenery shrouded the outline of the tall mountain range and forest. Even the walls of the buildings were composed of firm brushstrokes and soft ink wash.

Since Luo Binghe had difficulty walking, Shen Yuan had to support him. Both men, mutually depending on each other, took slow steps forward.

Droplets of water splashed quietly from their strides as Shen Yuan guided him in the direction of whatever he’d wanted Luo Binghe to see. Like black ink that had been dipped into clear water, the transparent surface was beginning to darken with each tread that Luo Binghe took.

He stared down at his feet. The sight of the ink and water swirling into one another as though they were made to be together gave rise to the tide of emotions which had been circulating within his mind.

In the newly fallen darkness, he could sense his companion had fallen into another state of deep contemplation. As the two men disembarked in companionable silence, Luo Binghe took a long, measuring look at the landscape—at the secrets hiding within the fog, behind the translucent silks.

The atmosphere was incomparably resplendent and harmonious, yet it painted an undeniable fact about his companion. Knowledge could be gleaned of how this revered existence perceived the outside world. Life was a flow of changes—transient and ephemeral. Being in this realm didn’t feel real, with the indifference of an observer who was transcendent and so far removed from the mortal scale.

They were truly opposites—not only in their physical appearance and status, but also in how their dream realms manifested.  

“...You’ve always had an unruly habit to roam and draw unnecessary attention to yourself!” An insidious and vicious whisper brushed against Luo Binghe’s mind like a wisp of smoke. “ It’s impressive you can even move so well inside this barrier. To think you’d chase him here on impulse!”

Hearing the litany of grievances, Luo Binghe hid the blade that was his smile. Unlike himself, he had no doubt that his senior might have been exorcised had he not taken refuge in Luo Binghe.

Because however convincingly Meng Mo conveyed his displeasure, his voice was nonetheless weakened by the barrier. He was merely being crotchety to maintain appearances.

Shen Yuan had made it clear that his invitation into his dream was extended to Luo Binghe only. With that one remark addressing the senior dream demon, and by performing the gesture of taking his hand, it couldn’t have been even more obvious what he’d wanted.

Earlier, Luo Binghe had gambled that on this fateful evening that the celestial fortuneteller would have no choice but to attend to his growing fatigue. His guard would be lowered and that was when the opportunity would present itself.

The practice of invading and manipulating a person’s dreams was nothing new. With his secret tutelage cultivating on the demonic path, beginning when he’d been a mere Cang Qiong Mountain sect disciple, he had learned to infiltrate many minds. Several had been his lovers—the first being his shījiě, accidental as it had been pulling his martial sister along with him—although the treatment his women received was far more considerate than the cruel methods he inflicted upon all those who opposed him.

He had seen the duplicity of people’s hearts and reproduced illusions of varying natures. He’d learned how to lure others when they were at their most defenseless and be able to find their worst fears and memories to inflict the maximum psychological torment. With his enemies who were impervious to physical torture, few could claim immunity upon being confronted with their own inner demons. And with his lovers, he could skim their memory fragments and indulge any spring dreams either of them had fantasized about, causing romantic feelings to overflow.

Because unlike the waking world, the dream realm was honest.

The capability to doubt was stripped away. Memories could be spied on. Falsehoods were exposed. And no secrets could be kept from him. Oftentimes one’s impulses could not be held back within the dream realm.

It was a glimpse into one’s truest state.

Meng Mo’s withered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The ways of those of the Heavenly Realm are mysterious—but they are proud and have always held contempt for our kind. I know you are captivated by him, but be more prudent in choosing your words around him. Don’t be muddled in the head just because you believe he can replace the late Qing Jing Peak Lord….” Ridicule had crept into Meng Mo’s tone. “His looks aren’t bad but to have aspirations of eating the tofu of someone who bears the farseeing, discerning eyes of the Heavens…. Your ambition is bold, as is your guts. This elder doesn’t know whether to be impressed or scold you for your shamelessness.”

Although his lips had thinned into a white line, Luo Binghe remained silent.

Water shaped its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flowed. Tonight, many of his initial plans had been waylaid. Although he couldn’t have predicted its trajectory, he wasn’t discontent with the final outcome. He’d gained information that would be invaluable to him—and he’d finally found his shizun.

There had been a quiescent anticipation in the night as Luo Binghe waited like a spider spinning its web, searching and reaching for the only mind of this residence who was of interest to him, until he’d finally sensed the faintest reverberation of the otherworldly and ephemeral—a presence that could only belong to him.  

And he’d pulled.

As someone who used to humbly occupy the Mortal Realm, never in his imagination did Luo Binghe expect he could claim success to the achievement of accessing the dream realm of divinity.

The rush of triumph had been dampened once, upon seeking Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe encountered a Qi-condensed barrier—a mental defense meant to repel demonic influences. Impenetrable even against the combined efforts of himself and his senior who had centuries worth of infiltration experience, no matter how much he’d concentrated—redirecting the violent and rough flow of his Qi into something more finessed—he was unable to cross the boundary.

Luo Binghe had been stuck at an impasse. Breaching the barrier would require a much greater display of force, inflicting irreparable mental harm onto the dreamer.

He’d realized the barrier had to stay.

The passage of time was immeasurable in the world of dreams, but with every moment that had passed without the precious person inside revealing himself, the fear had mounted. Perhaps Shen Yuan had predicted such an incident would occur and had taken precautionary measures.

In hindsight, his action had indeed been too rash.

It was inevitable that they would be going their separate ways in the coming morning. Moreover, the last deep impression he’d leave behind would cast Luo Binghe in an extremely bad light, with Shen Yuan withdrawing back into seclusion and harboring a grudge for being taken advantage of. The opportunity would have slipped through Luo Binghe’s fingers like granules of sand.

All would be lost. Faced with the possibility of being abandoned, Luo Binghe had been inconsolable. The tension in the air around him had been so thick, it’d presented an oppressive miasma in his own dream realm.

The giant boulder which weighed down his heart vanished when, with the keen senses of a cultivator, his five senses had detected a ripple in the fog.

From faraway, he’d been spellbound. He’d seen a silhouette resembling that from legend, with the unattainable white moon that was Shen Yuan descending down from the stars which glistened like shards in the night.

Despite the offense, he had chosen to come to Luo Binghe from his own volition.

Another realization had struck Luo Binghe. Seeing the regal figure out of his immaculate finery—dressed down to his inner clothing and with his moonlit hair undone, without a headpiece in sight—was a rare sight beyond measure. Aside from the servants who tended to their master, no one else must have seen him in such a compromising state.

It’d also been fascinating observing how someone of the Nine Heavens would interact within his world; Shen Yuan had assimilated quickly. Wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar environment, his appearance reminded Luo Binghe of the purest white snow, high above and unreachable, the likes of which remained untarnished. Such bearing was similar to what Luo Binghe expected for somebody of high status. Like a fairy unaffected by mortal matters, Shen Yuan’s manner had been aloof and vague. The only difference was that his attitude toward Luo Binghe had not been uncaring. Courtesy had been given, even knowing who he was—and what he’d done, and would be capable of doing.

There was no one who could deny Shen Yuan’s appearance was picturesque. When he was smiling, it was as moving as spring flowers and the autumn moon. When he was lost in thought, he projected an air of melancholy—solemn and ambiguous, like the subject of a painting one could only admire from a distance.

“...Xiōng dì.” A cultured and steady voice trickled into Luo Binghe’s awareness, pulling him from his deep reflection.

An invigorating energy suddenly blanketed him. All discomfort fled, replaced with the refreshing feeling of a spring brook engulfing him. Shen Yuan had fallen a step back so that they were now shoulder to shoulder.

Shen Yuan’s gaze was appraising as his breaths feathered the fur. “I had not expected you being here would be strenuous on you. Please take care of your body.” A hand went up to clasp him on the shoulder. “Endure the skinship. I think, for now, it’s better to stay close to me until you can stand on your own. You’ll be safer by my side.”

Luo Binghe inhaled sharply.

“Hoh. How considerate!” Meng Mo’s dryness filtered into his thoughts. “He treats you very well. Such goodwill. He certainly has a good heart.”

Stay out of this, Luo Binghe rebuked. You are not invited to take part in this conversation. Scram!

Replying in the affirmative though, he ducked his head. The hidden meaning of Shen Yuan’s words had not been lost on him. He simply hadn’t expected how protective Shen Yuan was of him.

In this lifetime, Luo Binghe would like to think he could recognize his shizun even if he turned into ashes—or took on a different appearance. Even the slow-witted were able to see that Shen Yuan was of different temperament, reminding Luo Binghe of the other “Shen Qingqiu” of the mirror world. This fortuneteller had a sincere and utterly honest personality, thoughtful and broadminded. Even when blood was shed, he didn’t condemn Luo Binghe.

This night was the first time they’d met, but it was undeniable that there was a flow to their conversations—as though they were not strangers but were, instead, dear friends reuniting. It was as if someone had seen the unfulfilled desires of his heart and had crafted him a companion to be compatible. Being with Shen Yuan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Embracing him had felt natural.

Although he was a man, Shen Yuan had fit so perfectly in his arms. The firmness and strength of his body. Warm and solid. Alive and real. It hadn’t been the same as hugging a soft feminine figure but even now, Luo Binghe could recall how it’d felt folding him into his arms, at the simple pleasure of sharing body heat. Of inhaling his clean scent.

Being that close to him, the intimacy of such an act, had been so strangely powerful the connection between them had felt tangible.

Here was somebody meant to be unattainable and unreachable, whom mere mortals never would’ve had the fortune to meet unless they’d managed to ascend to the highest realm. Knowing that he was supposed to keep all divinity at a respectable distance made his awareness of what he was doing seem all the more enchanting.

There was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Luo Binghe held no illusion of what this really was; a second chance was being offered to him. Since they have finally encountered, it must have meant they were fated. Since fated, one must live up to the fate that the Heavens have bestowed.

(Cont.)

The rest can be read on AO3!

#bingyuan #svsss #scumbag system #scum villain's self saving system #人渣反派自救系统 #luo binghe #the untold tale #fanfic #fanfiction #phoenixtakaramono #Look forward to reading 56 pages in this massive update

[norbah]

Huitzilopochtli

-Saber (5*)

The proud Aztec god of war and the sun, Huitzilopochtli was born armed and ready for battle. The serpent of flame, Xiuhcoatl, was his weapon. His first action was the wholesale slaughter of his 400 brothers and dismemberment of his sister Coyolxauhqui in defense of his mother. Although he is technically a Pseudoservant, his face is not a familiar one, as he inhabits the body of a particularly worthy Mexica warrior. He does not tolerate weaklings as his Master, and one would be well advised to pull their weight and prove their worth as a warrior early on, lest the violent deity withdraw his favor and support.

Huitzilopochtli is particularly difficult to get along with at first. Mages remind him uncomfortably of Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec god of night, and thus his relationship with his Master will be automatically on the wrong foot from the start. He respects strength and valor, and rankles at cowards and cheats. He revels in violence and has little patience for activities unrelated to combat, meaning training is one of the few ways to bond with him.

Huitzilopochtli is brimming with raw power, and believes in honorable combat, although he finds the idea of giving his opponent a choice in the matter laughable. If Huitzilopochtli wishes to fight you, there’s not much you can do to avoid it. He is vulnerable to ambushes and assassinations, and it is no exaggeration to say his weakest point is his Master. The low respect he has for mages as a whole means he is unlikely to protect them at first. Indeed, if he finds them to be cowardly or spineless, he is perfectly willing to stand back and watch them be killed, as defeat is preferable to cowardice. Unlike his brother Quetzalcoatl, Huitzilopochtli loves only the strong among humanity, and will expect his Master to personally take the life of at least one other Master during the Grail War.

However, he is no mindless Berserker, and relishes the use of strategy against his enemies. If one can prove to him that their mind is sharp and well-versed in the art of tactics, he will quickly grow to respect his partner, and may even waive his demands for actual combat from them. It would be a good idea to avoid suggesting an assassination or underhanded tactics to him, however. The memories of what the deceitful Spaniards did to his people still make him bristle with blazing rage.

He burns through mana at an alarming rate, and unless one has enough in reserve, he is likely to go find a worthy sacrifice, or worse still, demand that his Master provide one for him. He will not select civilians, not out of concern for justice or discretion, or even mercy, but because he wishes only for warriors as sacrifices to himself. Anything less is unworthy.

In the context of the Grand Order, the chief god of Mesoamerica is easier to handle. Being surrounded with mighty warriors from across all ages and nations, he is quite enamored with the concept of testing himself against them. To his delight, there are many capable of holding their own against him, even if for a short while. He also has a secret soft spot for mothers, and will go out of his way to assist them if he can.

Inevitably, he will come to respect the last Master of Chaldea, as their struggles against insurmountable odds speak of true valor and strength of spirit. Indeed, he will go as far as to refer to them affectionately as “Tlatoani” after a while.

All in all, Huitzilopochtli is proud, stubborn, violent, and difficult. But should you earn his trust, there is no ally more steadfast and fierce you could find than the Fifth Sun.

ACTIVE SKILLS

Charisma B+

Although Huitzilopochtli and his people were the dominant culture of Mesoamerica, they did not reach this summit through diplomacy, but rather coercion and fear. Other tribes obeyed them only until somebody crueler than the Aztecs came along and offered to depose them.

----Increases all allies’ Atk.

Lake Texcoco

Huitzilopochtli could be an unreasonable deity, but he could also be a guiding hand. Through the augury of an eagle devouring a snake atop a prickly pear, he led his people from the mythical Aztlan to what would one day be Tenochtitlan: an island in a lake, infested with venomous snakes. The surrounding tribes gifted the island to the Mexica people, expecting them to die. But the Mexica ate the snakes, and claimed the island for their own.

----Increases allies’ Atk and Def. (3 turns)

----All allies gain Debuff Resist (3 times)

Blue Hummingbird EX

This skill is an embodiment of his nature as the bloodthirsty chief of the gods. As the sun, he gave life to all beings on earth. He demands blood in return, that he may be strong enough to hold back the eternal night. As his allies are spirits much like himself, he does not take their hearts as tribute, but rather drinks from them without taking their lives.

----An ally of your choosing loses 50% of their remaining health

----Increases own Buster strength depending on how much health was taken from ally (3 turns)

----Extra effect if NP is used (1 turn)

NOBLE PHANTASM

Name: Tonatiuh

Rank: A+

Class: Buster

Type: Anti-Army

“I am Light. I am War. I am he who holds the Moon and Stars at bay. Gaze now upon me as I am reborn from the Southeast. I am the Fifth Sun—- TONATIUH!”

As the dual deity of war and the sun, Huitzilopochtli displays unbridled power that few can rival. In Aztec myth, he is our current sun, and his power is what keeps the moon and stars from descending upon the Earth and devouring all living on it. This power grows as he is fed the blood and hearts of captured warriors, or even allies deemed worthy of this honor. This Noble Phantasm manifests this legend by transforming into the Solar Disc, Tonatiuh, and unleashing his might towards the surrounding area. Those blessed by him will feel the warmth of the sun on their skin and the strength of their allies at their side, giving them the spirit to fight more fiercely, while those who stand against him will feel the devastating power of the Sun in its most bloodthirsty and violent form.

----Deals significant damage to all enemies

----Increase Atk for all allies. (3 turns)

----Stuns Self for 3 turns (Demerit)

----If under the effect of Blue Hummingbird EX, Huitzilopochtli is not stunned. Instead, increase Atk by fraction of HP taken as tribute. (Effect increases with Overcharge. 100% is an increase by 50% of the tribute. 200% is an increase by 75%. So on.)

Additional quotes for other Servants: -Quetzalcoatl: “Quetzalcoatl, my brother! It has been too long! ... You... seem different than I remember you. ... Did you do something with your hair? And do you know what happened to my Piedra del Sol?” He still holds Quetzalcoatl in high regard, as one of the few siblings who aided him in defending their mother, Coatlicue against Coyolxauhqui. As such, Quetz is one of the very few people you will catch Huitz being affectionate with... and is, in fact, the only Servant capable of calling him Huitz without starting a fight. -Jaguar Man: “I see you in there, Tepeyollotl. You think you can hide behind this woman, but I know you’re in there. ... Eh? You evicted him? You evicted the Heart of the Mountain? ... I would not have liked to be in his place. You have my respect.” Huitzilopochtli respects but mistrusts Tezcatlipoca and all his avatars. To find that this woman was willful enough to turn the tables on the Smoking Mirror is a very welcome surprise, but he will keep an eye on her nonetheless. -Karna: “You there, spearman. Stop for a moment. Something links us. I can feel it. ... Ah. I understand now. ... You are a capable warrior, I see. Would you join me in the sparring ring? I would like to know you better. We are practically family, after all.” He sees Karna as a nephew of sorts, being the son and incarnation of another sun god, albeit a much less violent one. Challenging Karna to brutal fights is his equivalent of playing catch with the demigod. -Leonidas: “You are not Mexica, are you? No. Your weaponry and armor, it is too different. But I see it in your eyes; that same sliver of the sun that burned in my warriors. Please, grant me the honor of joining me in a spar.” He simply recognizes a man who may have been an Eagle Knight or even a Tlatoani, had he been born in a different time and place. He goes all out against Leonidas as a sign of respect, and is delighted to discover just how strong and durable the Spartan is. -Tiamom: “I... Mother? Mother, is that you? ... No. No, not quite. You feel like her, and I hear her in your voice, but you’re much gentler. Yet... somehow, it feels like you’re... I’m so confused.” This is where Huitz is the most vulnerable. He is dearly fond of his mother, and sees much of her in the Foreigner Tiamat. Both are mother goddesses, greatly associated with the earth and with serpents, and both were turned on by their own children. Huitz can't help but feel protective of Tiamat, and subtly tries to make her proud of him. It is a good thing she can look after herself. If his new surrogate mother were threatened, there's no telling how much carnage Huitz would cause in his desire to protect her. -Artemis: “A moon goddess? Pah. More trouble than they’re worth, the lot of them. Watch your back, Master, lest you find a dagger in it.” Self explanatory. Huitzilopochtli feels great distaste for moon goddesses, and would see no problem in getting rid of all of them to avoid a potential Coyolxauqui 2.0.

#fgo #fanservant #huitzilopochtli #dammit all i caved and made one of these #actually kinda happy with him but i'm worried his NP might be a bit overpowered #oc

[7-wonders]

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

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