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dreamii-yume · 3 years

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SPOILERSSS for Twisted Wonderland Chapter 6 : 1-16!!!

*rubs hands* aight it wont take long before genshin has me in its gacha hell grasp again, I just barely escaped this time— NOW ITS TIME TO SEE THE BOIS CHAPTER 6 omg— wtf happened last time lol it’s been too long

So, no voice over because of some problems which is understandable but— meh I don’t feel like reading lol So I’m watching otome ayui translations this time, because im that one dumbass student who skipped kanji class and now i cant read without sounding like im five _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): “what up im yume im way passed 19 and i never fucking learned how to read”

Also watching Hanayura Kanon stream for the rest that’s not yet been translated lol Because he’s very good at voice acting for the characters and he’s funny af lol

- OKAY OKAY— WTF HAPPENED EXPLAIN

- Fun fact : I haven’t watched Hercules yet so I legit don’t know what’s about to come lol

- Aw, that’s cute— We called over Ace and Deuce late at night AND THEY REALLY CAME OVER AAAAA

- I forgot how fckin pure their friendship is _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

- Aight, so we actually have a huge-ass scratch from feral Grim lol That’s just fantastic, isn’t it

- FINALLY— We’re talking about Mickey and the stones my monster cat has been eating with Crowley AAAAA

- “Yeah there’s this bitch called mickey and i took his photo—“

- WE’RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT THIS. AFTER 6 CHAPTERS.

- Bruh this crystal of blot sounds really dangerous why are we discussing this just now

- Speaking of this crystal, Crowley— you were looking for this crystal in chap one and when we asked you about wtf you’re trying to find you just went— “oH itS NothING.”

- I SUPPOSED ITS NOT NOTHING NOW IS IT

- I didnt see you searching for crystals after every chapter mr. crowley where were you 👁👄👁 dont you think it was weird that you didnt see a single one after like— five blotting incidents

- Oh so its rare i see— BRUH R U SURE ABOUT THAT grim literally found one every single chap LMAO

- Okay okay— see, he may be violent but listen— you aint gonna throw out my fucking cat okay

- Wh— THERE WAS A FESTIVAL!? Im dumb so its not just VDC LOL

- Listen LISTEN— GRIM IS FINE. HOLD UP— NO NEED TO THROW HIM OUT JUST LET ME HAVE ANOTHER LOOK AT HIM

- Aww, Ace and Deuce looked pissed about it too AAAAHH THE TRUE DEFINITION OF THE BOIS

- BRUH NO— ALL THE DORM LEADERS TO GO AND CAPTURE GRIM?? HE’LL DIE

- CROWLEY PLS— WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS, HONEY

- #Grimportectionsquad

- “It’s bout time for them to come” Who?

- FUCKING— CROWLEY STOP SAYING ITS NOTHING— This is why this school is so fucked, you never tell us anything ahead of time _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

- Aight he left, Ace Deuce hurry help me what you guys got

- He may be a monster but see— the worst he did is eat the whole tuna stack SO PLS HES STILL BABY AND I LOVE HIM

- THATS RIGHT DEUCE MY MAN GRIM CAN DO NO BAD I SWEAR

- HE WOULDNT EVER AGAIN I SWEAR

- Ace ヽ(；▽；)ノ The character development— im so proud of you, son

- THIS IS THE BOISSS— LETS GOOOO

- Fuck this is so beautiful— just me and the bois on our way in the middle of the night to find our MISSING CAT I—

- CROWLEY REALLY DID ASSEMBLE THEM DORM LEADERS AAAAAAA AT THIS HOUR TOO WTF

- BRUH WE CAN TALK

- Kalim Kalim Kalim Vil Vil Vil— Pls we’ve been through so much last chapter ＨＥＬＰ

- Leona…A big fat ｍｏｏｄ honestly lmao

- Ey ey riddle pls— dont make this any more difficult—

- Shut up azul stay where u are all you’ve done is nothing but chaos since you arrive so SHHH

- MALLEUS IS NOT HERE AGAIN LILIA PLS— where is he when we need him the most LOL

- Ortho, your bro where?? Also— SURVIVAL STATUS BRUH—

- YES PLS DONT HURT HIM OMG

- oh i forgot idia lives in his tablet LOL OF COURSE

- Omg he’s in the apple trees still looking scary as shi aaaaaaa pls kitty come home u just had too much catnip

- OH GOD 15m HE’S CLOSE

- “Starting operation” ORTHO WHAT TF

- EY EY EY oh good he’s knocked out sighhh

- Aight I know this has been translated but I can’t help but to look at the original japanese and im just— wtf is RTS and TAS idia i dont understand this advanced gamer otaku language

- But Idia and Ortho really do be speedrunning on who can fucking kick my cat the hardest LOL

- THATS RIGHT IDIA You understand me— Fellow cat lovers unite, Grim is very cute, he can’t do no bad

- …so can i have him back pls—

- Can we just appreciate the fact that these bois are willing to take the risk of getting their heads chopped off by Riddle by doing all this for us??

- If this isnt what you call true friendship then i dont know what this is

- Lol ambrose is going to appear in this festival again and crowley’s prideful ass is QUAKING

- WHY are we not allowed to see him crowley im sure we can handle it— We’re the BOIS. CMON

- Imagine if they just summon a fcuking— magic vet or something lol

- It’s the next day lol

- HAH ITS THE VDC LOSERS BY ONE VOTE SQUAD

- I mean the NRC Tribe— ٩( ᐛ )و

- VIL. what you have my queen

- Vil pls dont remind me that my cat isnt here but thank you for saying thank you i do not deserve—

- AWW THE ADEUCE SQUAD LOOKS SO SAD AAAAA

- Vil i miss the bad bitch but absolute oneesan energy but the apology— yeah are we gonna cry again lol

- AAAAAAHH why am i so proud— THAT vil is apologizing

- You dont need to maam what we had in chapter 5 was a fucking journey i regret nothing

- I swear if rook goes like— bitch that aint beautiful imma bonk him I WILL DO IT dont think i forgot what u did last chap

- Man i love me a man who can openly admit his mistakes MMMGH

- Rook i swear—

- Im glad that we’re not toning down ace’s brutal honesty lol

- BRUHHH I DONT LIKE IT WHEN VIL US TAKING ALL THE BLAME i mean what he said was kinda true BUT STILL

- Cheer up Vil, it’s not like it’s a complete failure anyways (；ω；) it was fun at least

- Hearing Jamil encourage Vil like this feels surreal BUT YES BOI U TELL EM

- What is this beautiful character development

- Ooff way to hit where it hurts the most vil my queen lol

- AAGH IT HURTS VIL RECOGNIZING NEIGE’S HARDWORK LIKE THIS— THE PRIDE I CAN FEEL IT ＣＲＡＣＫ

- Bruh we appreciate Neige’s impeccable smile in this household— REMEMBER WHEN EVERYONE WAS LIKE NEIGE’S GON BE A BAD BOI??? WELP—

- It was me, i was that person and i shall drown in apple juice for it

- Of course, the ultimate Neige simp already knows that lol

- Bruh the background music has no business being this sad　ｓｔｏｐ

- I hate it when vil is right sometimes omg— TRUEEE KALIM especially wouldn’t be able to stand properly on stage after knowing Neige’s own hardships aaaa

- NOO BABY DONT CRY

- Vil redemption arc??? 👀👀 you can help us cure our cat—

- !? Are we gonna get that money promised in that poster?? 👀👀

- WHAA FUCKING WAHAA VIL IS GONNA PAY THAT US??? THE WHOLE 5 MIL EACH??!! VIL CALM DOWN WHAT I SAID WAS A JOKE

- Damn vil is ＳＴＡＣＫＥＤ He really didnt want to owe anyone anything LMAO YES QUEEN

- WHA— KALIM IS ACCEPTING??? OUT OF EVERYONE HERE, I DID NOT EXPECT YOU TO ACCEPT THAT KALIM

- Kalim is making my heart go boom boom again baby boi ✨👁💧👄💧👁✨✨

- HE’LL DONATE IT TO THE RAMSHACKLE DORM BABY BOIIII

- …sumimasen kalim for having a very rundown dorm 👁💧👄💧👁 but thank you for being nice about it lol

- OKAY OKAY KALIM YOU DONT HAVE TO LIST ALL THE THINGS WRONG IN MY DORM PLS—

- THIS IS EMBARRASSING PLS KALIM IM SORRY FOR BEING POOR

- But this man be such a sunshine holy shit i cant even be mad about it lol

- AW YEAH RAMSHACKLE DORM IS GONNA GET A MAKEOVER

- EVERYONE BE DONATING THEIR MONEY TO US AAAAA Were they always this NICE

- Aight adeuce pls— y’all dont have to force yourself to donate my guys (´；ω；`) being friends is enough lol i get it my bois

- Find me a man who can make me feel like this the way Vil can

- Man if only Grim is here :’) he’d be soo happy :’)) you can have all the tuna you want buddy :’)))

- GRIM PLS ADEUCE IS WILLING TO TREAT YOU TO LUNCH BABY

- Bro this is so wholesome omg

- Im sorry but still up to this day, my understanding of Epel’s accent is still　ｌａｃｋｉｎｇ lmao

- Aight they be talking about how Rook already knew that they were going to lose from the very beginning

- The FORESHADOWING LOL The difference with how Rook said “What a wonderful performance” rather than “What a beautiful performance” sigh

- Honestly we gotta respect Rook’s resolve here lol man just knows what he wants

- Rook and Vil’s friendship lmao

- 👁👄👁 …!?

- EARTHQUAKE WTF How dare you ruin such moment—

- WHAT IS GOING ON

- EY WTF DONT DESTROY MY DORM WTF ARE YOU GUYS

- WHAT ARE THESE ROBOTS OUTSIDERS KILL THEM WITH FIRE

- They look like something that belongs to the Ignihyde dorm HUH

- Oh bruh— Vil in his Dorm Leader mode is so cool AND YES I KNOW THIS IS NOT THE TIME BUT wheww~~ Vil YAS QUEEN

- KALIM TOO AAAAAA JAMIL’S 「はっ！」SO COOL

- so SO— the dorm leader’s have a protocol for outsider attacks like this 👁👄👁 OMG THEY’RE SO HOT

- They don’t seem like our bois anymore aaa just pure professionalism at this point—

- GOD I FORGOT HOW COOL THEY ARE OMG

- HEEEYYY OUR DORM IS GETTING DESTROYED WTF ARE THESE GUYS’ PROBLEM

- We were just talking about renovating it too wtf

- AAAAAHHH HOW DARE YOU— VIL R YOU OK

- Bruh i dont know what is going on but dont touch my man’s face

- They’re targetting Vil and Jamil WHY— overblot men!!??? WHERE ARE YOU— GIVE THEM BACK

- I didnt understand what epel said here lmao BUT—!?

- THEY HAVE GRIM TOO FUCK HE’S BACK LET GO OF MY FUCKING CAT

- WHAT IS GOING ON DARLINGS

- BUDDYY >:’0000 Grimmm MY HEART—

- Are they kidnapping the overblot men?? What— the fucking absolute ｂａｌｌｓ on these robots

- God we’re getting absolutely ｆｕｃｋｅｄ in here

- AND THERE’S A CAULDRON IN THE BACKGROUND LOL DEUCE WENT HAM

- BRING ME BACK MY FUCKING CAT— >:’0000

- I thought there’s going to be a festival not a fucking kidnapping event HEY

- Oh 👀 Rook pls help

- AAAHH SERIOUS ROOK IS HOT—

- IS THE OTHER DORM LEADERS CHILLING WHERE ARE THEY KALIM PLS BE SAFE

- OH RIDDLE IS NOT ANSWERING THEY GOT HIM TOO

- Oh ghad they got him during clubs WTF HOW—

- *nervous hornii chuckling* …angry expression silver 👁👄👁 im sorry

- AAAA Dorm leaders actually be acting like dorm leaders is soo cool i cant—

- Bruh the story is all chaos what is this chapter

- Are they gonna get Leona and Azul too what—

- RIDDLE BABY Jesus christ dont overblot like this again lol

- DAMN HE STRONG FOR A SMOL BOI THO

- Whoever made these robots wtf is their deal lol TO BE ABLE TO BEAT A DORM LEADER—

- …Bruh where is our horned friend when u need him

- Silver and Sebek theorizing with dorm leaders but they took Jamil tho?? It’s probably the overblot men they’re after

- Also Malleus is probably good so you two calm down lol Lilia’s probs having tea with him right now

- Okay, Leona how are you going to get captured KING.

- Omg everything is getting destroyed wtf

- AW LEONA SAVED RUGGIE THATS CUTE AND COOL AF

- Bruh leona these are material robots— cant you just turn them into sand lol

- Oh they do have some kind of brand cmon just turn them into sand pls

- WHAT THE FUCK

- LEONA-SAN!? WHY ARE YOU GIVING UP— OJI-TAN!!!

- OLD MAN WHAT—

- *hearing leona whisper his reasons ✋ 👁👄👁 🤚 okay sir im sorry

- Damn Leona acting like a real prince right now— it’s kinda hot 👀👀

- BRUH PLS COME BACK DONT TALK LIKE YOU AINT GONNA

- BRO WHERE ARE THE TEACHERS

- THE BOARD GAME CLUB

- Idia : “bro we just chilling be cool— MY CHESS PIECE“

- “Aight ortho what’s the situation” “ｆｕｃｋｅｄ＂

- So Idia of course knows about this— why does he look like he’s so done lmao me getting the feeling this isnt the first time idia has encountered this situation before lol

- Man i want to see azul in action too but mehh— Idia told him to settle down cries

- LOL WHAT IS THIS KARONE ROBOTS

- Wait— are they taking idia too?? OH IS THIS THE DOING OF IDIA’S FAMILY

- WHERE IS CROWLEY— THE TEACHERS, YOUR IMPORTANT STUDENTS ARE GETTING KIDNAPPED

- AH THEY ALSO KNOW ABOUT THESE STYX BITCHES WHAT— and they’re just letting them GO whaaat

- Sounds to me that this must be idia’s family taking care of the overblotting students?? Like to protect Idia or something?? I DONT—

- “Gather all the dorm leaders” No, sir, they’re already gone besides my sunshine and the horn boi

- Malleus??? 👁👄👁 TSUNOTAROU

- Pls kill the robots they destroyed my place

- AAH UPSIDE DOWN LILIA long time no see lol

- Bruhh the diasomnia students are so lucky to have Malleus as a dorm leader omg

- BRUH LILIA’S RINGTONE IS SO CUTE LMAO

- Kalim sounds so desperate im so sad

- ARE WE— ARE WE GONNA MEET MALLEUS AGAINNN

- Bruh they just goku teleported their way out of the dorm lol

- AAAAHH EVERYONE IS HERE THIS IS SO FUN

- Wait jack is not here lol did they just forget about him wtf

- Oh shit we here too i did not know LMAO

- S-So are we just gonna..continue school like— like these styx bitches didnt just ruin half the school, my dorm, injure my bois, and took my cat or…???

- GASP AAAA STYX IS A BLOT RESEARCH FACILITY WHAAAT

- So that’s why leona and idia be like bro this is not worth it

- O-Oh yeah— they…they didnt know that Vil overblot— PFFT

- Malleus pls information who are you talking about—

- WHO— LILIA MALLEUS OH NO

- Ey, overblot squad are assembled lol this looks so dangerous

- LMAOO Riddle was sleeping on Leona’s lap for three hours THATS SO CUTE

- Where the fck did they take them, ITS CRAMPED AF

- Bro they’re just exposing Vil and Jamil’s overblot that’s supposed to be a SECRET LOL

- Oji-tan can sound so wise and reliable like this if he really tried lol sugar daddy energy

- Wtf these guys never thought that idia was from a big shot family??? They thought it was just coincidence that they had the same family name PFFT

- AZUL AAAA He was right there my guy BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY MAN

- oh. They finally opened— isn’t this the ignihyde dorm what

- WHAT THE FU— IDIA

- Bro— WHAT WAS THAT IT WAS IDIA ALL ALONG???

- WHAT IS THIS CHAPTER

This chapter is a fucking roller coaster like— literal 0 to 100 ＱＵＩＣＣ From having a moment with Vil and the bois to a FUCKING TERRORIST ATTACK LMAO IM HYPED FOR NEXT CHAP—

It’s been so long, I hope they released the next part soon (๑>◡<๑) I forgot how fine these men are lol at least I want to hear their voices again 👁👄👁

#twisted wonderland #spoilers #chapter 6

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slytherinbangchan · 3 years

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Kareshi, okarishimasu!✨ (SKZ Hyunjin Fake!Boyfriend!Au)

A SKZ (all members) Fake boyfriend!Au where there’s an app where you can easily rent the perfect guy to play the role of your boyfriend. Guess the hard part will be not falling for him.

The reader is different for each one of the SKZ members. There’ll be smut in some of the chapters. (The first chap of this Au was Kareshi, Okarishimasu! Seungmin)

Pairing: Hyunjin x femreader Word Count: 2.5k (I made it a One-Shot this time.) ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 1st Date So, there you are. Waiting right where your friend told you to. She insisted so much on you doing this but what's the big deal? How is dating a fake boyfriend going to help you out with your actual romantic life? Plus, it's not like you have any problem with being single. Actually you only agreed to do this cause your friends were so annoying about it and they said they'd shut up if you tried it. They even paid for you.

You look around as you wait. You hate this. You were so anxious about it that you left an hour early but it's getting even worse as time passes. There's a girl next to you who seems nervous aswell. She must be waiting for her date too. You sigh as you look around a last time, then you see him, the guy your friends chose for you from the app, walking towards you. Your heart skips a beat even if you were trying so hard for it not to do that.

The guy is a bit early, guess that'd be a good sign if he was actually your boyfriend. As he comes closer you notice he's not exactly looking at you and, with a confused face, you watch how he stands in front of the girl next to you. 'Hey, I'm Hyunjin, are you y/n?' He asks and the girl looks at him practically with heart eyes. 'Yes, yes I am'. She says, almost mesmerized, and you click your tongue as you roll your eyes. 'No, she's not. I am.' He looks at you and apologizes to the girl then to you. 'Sorry, your friends forgot to send a picture.' He says as he scratches the back of his head and smiles a bit nervous for his mistake. 'It's fine.' You soothe him then you look him up and down. 'What are you a model or something?' You ask and he chuckles. 'What?' He laughs and you start walking. 'There's a lot of people turning around just to look at you, it's annoying'. You say, making him laugh again, but he's flattered. 'I'm sorry'. He apologizes as he catches you up to walk by your side. 'I wanted to look good for you'. He says making you feel a bit guilty. 'It's whatever, I just don't like people looking at me'. You explain. 'But you do look kinda nice.' You mumble as you blush making him chuckle again. 'What was that?' He asks as he pokes you with his elbow, making you blush even more. 'Nothing, I said you're ugly.' You say and he laughs.

You thought it'd be a bit awkward to maybe start a conversation but it's not. He listens to you carefully but still participates in the convo. He looks at you a lot while you chat and even if you think it's cause he's just being polite, he actually finds everything you have to say very interesting. 'Let's get in here.' You suggest as you walk by an arcade and he gladly follows you inside.'Hey, what about this?' He asks as he points to the race cars game. 'Sure.' You say as you smile and sit on one of them. He sits right next to you. 'I'll destroy you'. You say and he smiles as he moves his head to a side. 'Okay.' He ends up winning the first race though. You bite your lower lip as he snickers poking your side at your waist level. 'Thought you were going to destroy me'. He teases. 'Let's go again.' You say, not even looking at him. Your cheeks blushed. A smug smile draws on your face as you stand up to move to the next game after destroying him on the second race as you promised. 'Hey!' He exclaims as he follows you. 'Did you let me win the first time?' He asks and you chuckle. 'Maybe'. He gasps. 'Really?' You giggle at his face. 'Nah, you were just lucky'. You say as you swipe your finger over one of the guns on the zombie shooter game with your eyes fixed on his. 'What? This one?' He asks and you nod. 'Whatever you want, princess'. He says and you throw him a look making him nervous. 'W-What?' He asks. 'Princess? Ah, did my friends tell you to call me that?' You guess and he nods. 'You don't like it?' He asks as he distractedly looks in his wallet for some coins for the game. 'Nah, it's fine. I'd rather be called queen though'. You inform him and he smirks. 'Yeah, I feel like that suits you better'. He says as you both wait for the game to start.

'How long have you been doing this?' You ask as you take a scoop of the ice cream you're sharing and he tilts his head. “What do you mean?” You roll your eyes. “The fake boyfriend thing, what else?” He smiles at your question. 'I don't know what you're talking about'. He says, making you smile. “So you are my boyfriend”. You remark. “Of course.” He smiles again. “Yeah? Would you kiss me then?” You ask. You know he won't kiss a stranger. But he chuckles. “If that's what my Queen wants.” You scoff. “No way! Do rental boyfriends really kiss their clients?” You ask and he smirks once again. 'What's a rental boyfriend?' You chuckle softly. “Okay, I give up. I'll allow you to be my boyfriend for today, no more questions about it.” He seems happy about that.

“You know there's more than one person following us, right?” You ask him as he walks you to the station and he nods. “I'm sorry about that.” He apologizes and you sigh. “Will you be okay?” You ask and he smiles as he tilts his head. “Are you worried about me?” He asks and you frown a bit confused. “I mean, there's a bunch of people following you...” You say and he chuckles. “Right. It's fine, I'm used to it.” He smiles but you can tell he doesn't like the situation one bit. “Are they your clients?” You ask and he sighs. “Get home safely, okay?” He says, then pats your head. You purse your lips but nod. “You take care too.”

You don't hear about him after that, but that's the thing with rental boyfriends right? You didn't even have the app to begin with, your friends were the ones managing everything. Why do you feel so bad though? That goodbye felt so bittersweet. Maybe you should have ignored those people as he was trying so hard to, but you couldn't just let that go. At first it was only one person following you two around but little by little the number went up to even five people. How can he live like that?

Anyway that's none of your business, is it? He didn't look like he wanted you to even mention it so that's it. It's not like you're seeing him again.You had fun today though... More than you thought you'd do.

2nd Date

Okay, maybe you ended up downloading the app, and maybe after a few weeks you finally gave up and rented Hyunjin again. And now you're walking towards him as he waits for you at the same place where you waited for him last time.

“H-Hey...” You wave at him even if he's looking at his phone, but he looks up as soon as he hears your voice. “Oh, it's you!” He exclaims. His eyes shining. He looks like a happy puppy right now “I should have known when you asked me to look ugly for the date. Why didn't you tell me it was you while we chatted?” He chuckles and you blush lightly. “I didn't think you'd remember me, and by the way is this your idea of looking ugly?” You ask as you point at his outfit. “Of course I remember my girlfriend? And what do you mean? I'm wearing the first thing I saw and I barely did any makeup.” He smiles and turns around proudly, showing you his entire outfit. “Huh?? I look just like any other guy!” You want to complain cause he doesn't look any uglier today but he's just so cute and he's so excited about his clothes... “Right... Yeah, you did a nice job actually, thanks.” You say and he smiles again. “Okay, where should we go today, my Queen?” He asks as you both start walking. “Well, they opened a horror house nearby.” You say and you can see the panic in his face. “What?... Wait, are you afraid of that kind of stuff?” You ask and he nods. “Horror movies too?” You ask again. “Well, yeah? Isn't that what they are made for? To scare people?” He says and you laugh. “I guess so, but I don't think any of them are actually scary.” You say as you chuckle and he blushes lightly. “Okay, let's go then.” He says and you lean on him bumping your shoulder against his arm playfully, then holding his hand with both of your hands. “It's fine dummy, we don't have to do that.” You say as you blush. Your eyes glued to the floor. You really decided to embrace you role as his girlfriend today and it's making him feel all kind of ways. “W-Well... I want to do it now, so you better take me there.” He says, not looking at you either.

An hour later or so you're both coming out the horror house. “Well, that was terrible.” He says still grasping on your arms with his huge hands as he walks behind you. You chuckle and turn around to take off his cap and fix his hair a bit. “C'mon it was fun.” You say but he doesn't say anything. He's blushing though. “I'm sorry. I guess you really hated it, huh?” You ask, feeling a bit guilty about dragging him there but he shakes his head. “Nah, I liked it cause I was with you.” He says and you scoff as you smile. “Liar.” You say. “I'm not lying.” He argues and you hold his hand as you start walking, dragging him again. “Let's watch a horror movie then.” You suggest, not looking back so he can't see the blush on your cheeks after holding his hand again and he whines. “Can't we just go to the amusement park? Maybe karaoke night?”

??? Date

“How long do we have today, Jinnie?” You ask as you play with the puppies at the dog cafe. “Look here, I'm taking a picture.” He says and you pose with the puppy making Hyunjin chuckle. “Hey, don't ignore my question.” You pout but he's looking at his phone. His smile slowly fades as you keep calling his name to get his attention. “Don't worry about that y/n.” He says and you tilt your head. “I'm not worried, I just want to know.” You say and he looks at you and puts on a fake smile. “We've been here for a while, let's go somewhere else, yeah?” He says. Your heart sinks a little after that interaction. Did you upset him somehow? You know he doesn't like when you make it difficult for him to play your boyfriend's role but that question could have been easily responded without mentioning his actual schedule as a rental boyfriend.

“Can I see the pics you took?” You ask while you walk to the movies and he smiles and hands you his phone. “Ah, that one was my favorite.” He says as he scrolls back to the pic you just passed. “Ah really? I look ugly though.” You giggle. “No, you don't, dummy.” He chuckles and holds your free hand lacing his fingers with yours. “You look perfect, and the puppy too.” He says, then an alarm on his phone startles you. “Omg, I almost drop it, sorry. Here.” You say, handling it back. “Is that an alarm for your next date?” You ask and he frowns as he turns it off. “Of course not. Why would I have other dates?” He asks. “Hyunjin, it's fine, you can tell me. I haven't paid you for the next hour yet.” You say and he lets out a frustrated sigh then smiles again. “I don't know what you are talking about, let's get inside already, the movie is going to start.” He says and a chill runs down your spine. “Omg, that's so creepy, stoop!” You say and he sighs again and drags you to a hidden alley with no people around.

“Why did you call me creepy? I'm not creepy!” He complains and you make a point by looking around the place where he just dragged you. “Okay, but I wasn't being creepy before!!” He says and you chuckle. “Yes you were, you looked annoyed and then a second later you smiled like nothing.” You say and he rolls his eyes. “I wasn't annoyed I was upset that you kept asking about when our date was going to end!” Well, he looks annoyed now for sure. It's the first time you see him like this though and you can't help but to chuckle for some reason. “Why are you laughing? I'm serious!” He complains. “I'm sorry. It's just that I feel that this is the first time I'm seeing the real you and I think it's cute.” You say and he blushes. “Well, this is just frustrated me. Just so you know, I'm my real self around you all the time.” He says, then lets out another frustrated sigh. You're a bit surprised right now at what he just said but before you can even notice yourself you're pulling from his shirt and kissing him.

You push him away immediately, covering your lips with your hands. “Omg, I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from.” You apologize as a very blushed Hyunjin stares at you, making you blush too. But before you can apologize again he's pulling you into another kiss.

Your body against his as you keep making out until you're breathless. You can't believe you've been kissing Hwang Hyunjin in a creepy alley for like an hour now.

“So, you do this with all your fake partners?” You ask and he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “There's no other dates or partners, I told you.” He says and you sigh. “Are we still playing the perfect fake boyfriend game?” You ask and he smiles. “I haven't been accepting dates for a while now, dummy.” He confesses and you frown, confused. “But you took my money...” You say and he laughs softly. “I gave it back everytime after our second date. I knew you wouldn't even notice.” He laughs again. “Are you serious?” You ask and he nods. “I just wanted to see you so I played along.” He says and you raise your eyebrows. “Shut up, that's not creepy, it's cute.” He says and you laugh. “Pfft, yeah, only cause it's you.” You say and he smiles before pecking your lips. “Shut up, you love me.” He says and you peck his lips back. “Nah, you love me.” You say while he kisses your neck and he smiles against your skin. “Yeah, I do.”

Blog’s Masterlist

Taggies: @princewonwoo ♥

#hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fake boyfriend #fake boyfriend skz #fake boyfriend stray kids #I miss my baby Jinnie

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lavenderjacobs · 3 years

Text

supercut//karl jacobs imagine

TW; swearing, angst ;-;

wc; 1215

song recommendation: supercut-lorde

after a fight you had with karl you drive off in your car. you love him more than anything but the universe seems to be against it.

You can’t keep doing this. It drains the life out of both of you.

You fiddle with your keys while standing on the doorstep of the house that you and your boyfriend share. The last few weeks have been exhausting. All the problems in your life seem like they’re catching up to you. Work has been a living hell for both of you lately, refraining you from spending time with each other. Everyday is just an endless drag, wake up, leave for work right away, be completely passed out by the end of the day and just blankly stare at each other during dinner. You haven’t even had the time to properly talk to your boyfriend about it, which might be the worst part. It can’t go on like this.

You sigh and open the door. Dropping your bag on the ground and letting your jacket slide off of your shoulders. “Baby, I’m home.” You say with a melancholic tone. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing in the hallway. He looks destroyed. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles, his hair is messed up and his lips are chapped. He looks like he has been crying. It’s dark in your house, apart from the pale white light coming from the kitchen. He almost looks like a ghost standing there.

I can’t do this anymore. He thinks. He opens his mouth searching for words to fill the silence with. Nothing. He had been standing here for about 10 minutes before you had walked in. Feeling completely empty. He swallows, and the empty feeling in his stomach returns. “Y/N....I can’t do this anymore I-”

You cut him off by pressing your face into his chest. You wrap your arms around his torso and completely sink into him. You breathe in his familiar scent and sigh. “I know baby I know.”

He briefly lets his arms rest on your back, before pulling away to meet your eyes. “You can’t just...do that. I know how this is gonna go. It’s been going on like this for weeks.” He pauses and looks down. Shying away from your eyes.

“Y/N I love you so much but-”

You feel something drop in your stomach. Your legs feel weightless and tears start stinging in your eyes. “Don’t finish that sentence Karl, please. This is something we can work through believe me. Please Karl just-”

“Y/N I’m so sorry it’s just....I don’t want things to keep going like this. I fucking hate it. Seeing you everyday but you not actually being there with me is worse than not seeing you at all. I’ve been thinking about it and-”

He stops as he sees the expression on your face. Tears streaming down your face at this point. The look he is giving you is saying more than his words could ever. You jerk away your hand that he has been holding. “Y/N....” He says as he tries to pull you in for a hug. You push him off of you. “Don’t fucking bother Karl.” You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks. You turn around and head for your front door. You grab your car keys and open the door. Karl tries to follow you. “Y/N don’t go, come on. Please just talk to me don’t-” Before he can finish his sentence you’ve slammed the door in his face.

You run through the driveway towards your car. It’s freezing, seeing as you’re only wearing a hoodie, but that’s not on your mind right now. Your breath becomes irregular as you try to control your sobs. As you stand by your car unlocking it, you turn around. He hasn’t even followed you.

You drive and you drive, with no where to go. You turn the radio on thinking it will distract you. Wrong.

In my head, I play a supercut of us All the magic we gave off All the love we had and lost And in my head The visions never stop These ribbons wrap me up But when I reach for you, there's just a supercut

She’s gone. That’s all he can think of. He never meant for it to go this way. Bringing it up was stupid. He didn’t think it through. He’d never break up with you. You where right, there’s always a way to fix things between you two. You’re his soulmate. But he fucked up. He slides down the wall while tears stream down his face. In the distance he hears the door of your car slam shut. She’s gone.

You stop at a random place you’ve never been before. You don’t feel safe enough to get out at this time of day. So instead, you just sit there in your car. The lyrics of the song keep ringing in your head.

When you call, I’ll forgive and not fight.

That’s all you want right now. You rest your head on your stirring wheel and let out another sob. You take out your phone and start writing a text to Karl.

In your car, the radio up We keep tryin' to talk about us You sigh and repeatedly press the backspace button. Fuck. There’s no way this is how it ends. It’s not right. Everything about this feels wrong. You start the engine of your car again. “Bullshit.” You mutter to yourself. “Get yourself together man. Fucking loser.” Karl is still sitting on the ground. He took out his phone and started looking at pictures of you two. A mistake. How did he manage to fuck everything up so bad? He kept beating himself up about it, drowning in guilt. Until he hears a car pull up in the driveway. He gets up so fast he gets a headrush. He looks out the window and recognizes your car. He had never opened a door faster. Adrenaline rushes through your body as you get out of your car. He was still there for you. You had been afraid he had already packed his things and left you behind. You almost trip because of the way you run towards him. You couldn’t get there fast enough. When you finally reach him, you jump in his arms. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, almost making him fall over. You feel him sob while burying his face in your neck. “Don’t cry baby. Don’t cry, I’m here.” You say while also feeling tears well up in your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. For saying that. I didn’t mean any of it. I love you so so much.” He says in between sobs. You pull away to meat his eyes. Letting out a sob and a smile at the same time. “I know baby, I love you. I’ll literally quit my fucking job if it means I get to spend more time with you. I hated that place anyway.” You say while wiping away his tears. He smiles back at you. He carries you inside and you both cuddle up in bed. You lay there, with your arms and legs wrapped around him, face buried in his neck. While he places tender kisses on your forehead and plays with your hair. “Are we good, my love?” He asks you. “We’re good.” You answer. More than good.

#karl jacobs #mcyt #karl jacobs x reader #mcyt x reader #karl jacobs imagine #mcyt imagine #angst #karl jacobs angst #mcyt angst #catb0ykarl writes

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miyanom · 3 years

Text

DEVILS PARADISE (part two)

MASTERLIST | JEAN KIRSTEIN X FEM!READER

synopsis: arriving in paradis, y/n slowly grows close to the devils she was taught to hate.

warnings: mentions of death, let me know if I need to add anything else!

notes: i feel like this chapter isn’t the best, but i wanted to write about y/n and jean a little and also write about y/n’s friendships with the people of Paradis before we head into trost arc.

word count: 2479

Shaky breaths fell from Y/N’s chapped lips as she held on tightly to Annie, keeping the unconscious girl from slipping off the Armoured Titan’s shoulder as he ran through the town beyond the wall.

Reiner had his hands raised to protect the others from the rubble of the gate as he crashed through, but as his hands moved to his sides once more, Y/N found her eyes widening.

Chaos. It was utter chaos.

Homes had been crushed from debris that went flying after the Colossal Titan kicked the gate, people had been crushed in attempts to escape, and mindless Titans were flooding into the city.

Y/N’s eyes continued to scan the area, only stopping as they fell onto a woman screaming for her husband who had been crushed beneath a Boulder.

With an arm still wrapped around Annie, Y/N used her other hand to pull them closer toward the armoured titan’s neck, fear coursing through her veins as the image of the crushed body weighed heavy in her mind.

The Marleyan’s words echoed through her head, reminding her of the sins of the Eldians; the sins that brought this destruction to them.

But Y/N couldn’t stop herself from questioning the things she had been taught as more screams filled the evening air.

Did they deserve it? Did they deserve it? Did they deserve it?

“Armin Arlert, from Shiganshina District, sir!” A blonde boy answered the training instructor.

If Y/N remembered correctly, it was Shiganshina that the warriors destroyed all those years ago. The day still weighed heavy on her heart, though she knew it was the only way.

What other choice did they have? If they were to go home to Marley without the Founding Titan, their terms would end prematurely.

“Yeah? That’s a stupid name. Your parents give you that?” Shadis questioned.

“My grandfather!”

“Arlert, what are you doing here?!”

“Trying to aid humanity’s victory!” Armin answered immediately.

When ordered to about face, Y/N’s eyes met Armin’s cerulean. Trying to aid humanity’s victory… humanity’s victory would only come when the devils were gone, that’s what Marley told them all.

The instructor passed by Y/N, barely sparing the girl even the smallest of glances as he moved down the row.

Jean Kirstein was the name Y/N heard as she tuned back into the initiation. His goal caused the girl to frown in distaste, and it took everything in her to not just roll her eyes.

To live a safe life in the interior, he had said.

The island devils truly were selfish, Y/N realised.

How could anyone hear about what happened in Shiganshina and choose to escape further into the walls? Do the devils not care about their own?

Would they rather save themselves than save the people they care for by ridding the world of Titans?

If Y/N were in their shoes, she knew what she would pick; the chance to save the people she cared about.

That’s why she was here, after all. It was why she went through the rigorous training of the warrior unit. All to make her family honorary Marleyans, to save them from the life of the Eldians.

She was here, pretending to be an island devil, pretending to be the thing she was taught to hate, all for her family.

The devils couldn’t say the same, they wanted to retreat further into the walls, into what they believed was safe.

If only they knew…

“Huh? You’re from Wall Maria, too?” Mina’s eyes widened slightly as she stared at Y/N, who sat across the table.

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly as she nodded. It was a cover story the warriors had come up with a while ago, it made it easier for them to blend in when the survivors of Wall Maria found refuge in Wall Rose.

A family had unexpectedly taken Y/N in just a few months after the attack. It wasn’t Y/N’s idea to take them up on their offer, they were devils, after all.

But Reiner had urged her, he told her it could help them with their mission, that perhaps this family could provide more insight into life inside the walls.

He had been right.

The family helped Y/N understand what life was like for the devils of Paradis, though she’d never tell Reiner and the others just how much she had come to pity these people.

The family had lost their son when the armoured Titan broke through the inner gate, apparently he was a soldier in the Garrison.

Y/N spent nights upon nights thinking about that. Each night giving her more and more reasons to think that maybe the devils didn’t deserve what the warriors had been brought here to do.

That family had shown her kindness, a kindness she never saw from own mother. So maybe-

No. This is the only way, Y/N repeated to herself. This is the only way…

“Y/N?” Mina spoke up again, staring at her with concern painted across her visage. “Are you alright?”

“Ye.. yeah.” Y/N nodded, averting her gaze nervously. “I just- it’s not easy to think about what happened.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Y/N hated thinking about the day she arrived inside the walls, whenever she remembered it, she remembered all those bodies she saw…

She remembered the screams and the blood, and the thought that maybe the Eldians were innocent and it was them who were the bad guys.

“That’s okay. I’m sorry for asking,” Mina let out a sigh, placing her hand over Y/N’s that rested on the table. “I’m-”

“It’s okay,” Y/N shook her head, quickly knocking Mina’s hand away as she stood up and grabbed her plate. “We should get going anyways, everyone’s cleaning up.”

As Y/N left the mess hall, she let out a frustrated sigh. No, that wasn’t suspicious at all…

Oddly enough, learning to use the odm gear the devils designed to kill Titans came fairly easy to Y/N. And before she knew it, they were moving onto hand-to-hand combat training.

When Y/N had been assigned to the mission to attack Paradis, she never expected she would join yet another military program. Not when the things they were learning for the first time here, were things she had known before she was even 10 years old.

“Go easy on the devils,” Reiner had warned them. “We don’t want suspicion to be drawn to us. Not now, we’re too close.”

Y/N hated to admit that he was right. Not about being close to the finish line, but about not wanting to draw suspicion to themselves.

But it was hard to remember his warning when she had been partnered with Jean Kirstein for training… She had known it on the day they met, and she knew it now, almost three years later.

Jean was a selfish, cocky bastard.

“Aw come on. You can do better than that.” His annoying laugh filled her ears as she quickly turned back to look at him, her eyes narrowing into a glare as her grip on the wooden knife tightened slightly. “By the time you take me down, I could’ve taken on at least eight people.”

“Yeah, why don’t you try testing that, Jean?” His name fell from her lips with venom as she chucked the knife in his direction, watching as he caught it with ease.

How much more annoying could he possibly get? Y/N asked herself.

Jean rolled his shoulders back in a stretch before getting into the correct stance, and within seconds, he was running at Y/N.

His eyes widened as the girl grabbed onto his arm, twisting herself around so her back was facing him as she kept pressure on his arm to keep the knife pointed away from her. This wasn’t a move they were taught by the trainers, he realised immediately.

He reached out for the knife with his other hand, though as soon as Y/N caught his movement, she kicked her left leg back, her foot slamming against his bottom calf causing his knee to buckle beneath him.

Putting all her strength into it, Y/N took advantage of Jean’s shaky footing, throwing him over her shoulder and watching as his back hit the dirt with a loud groan of pain falling from his lips.

With a smirk, she crouched down to pick up the knife, twirling it between her fingers as she glanced back at him.

He was still on the floor, staring up at her with wide eyes and a light blush painted across his cheeks. “Aw come on, Jean. You can do better than that,” she taunted.

Jean was ignoring her, Y/N realised as the trainees from the 104th settled down in the mess hall for dinner that night.

She didn’t blame him, she would be embarrassed too if she were in his shoes.

It wasn’t exactly his fault that she had been through this before, in a much harsher environment where the punishment for a failure like that was much worse than a simple comment made by their instructor.

Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her hand as her eyes scanned the dining hall, the sound of chatter filling the room. It wasn’t like this back in Marley, they would always eat in silence, in fear.

But in Paradis, those fears no longer weighed heavy on her shoulders. She no longer had to sleep with one eye open, terrified the Marleyans would decide to torch Liberio in the middle of the night.

She would never say it aloud, but maybe the devils were right to flee and hide here.

“-right, Y/N?” Christa’s voice snapped Y/N out of her thoughts, causing her to quickly turn around.

“Huh?”

“There she goes drifting off again,” Ymir commented, her arms crossed as she stared at Y/N. “With an attitude like that, you’ll become Titan chow the second you step outside these walls.”

Christa had quickly become Y/N’s friend within the first year of training, now that they were coming close to the end of the third and final year, Y/N realised that she had practically been inseparable from Ymir and Christa during training.

Maybe she had followed Reiner’s orders too quickly, he told them to blend in with the devils. Or maybe she had found peace within the unexpected kindness… it was wrong, that’s all she really knew.

She wasn’t supposed to be getting along with the island devils, she wasn’t supposed to call them her friends and wish they would be far away from Trost when the warriors plan comes to fruition.

But they were kind, they weren’t anything like how Marley described them to be.

A conflicted feeling settled in Y/N’s stomach once more as she averted her gaze, no longer able to look Christa and Ymir in the eyes without remembering what was to happen.

They didn’t deserve it, they didn’t deserve it.

Or did they? Their ancestors had committed atrocities against the entire world, after all.

But that was their ancestors, not them. Christa, Ymir, Mina, the family that had taken her in when they found out she was a so-called orphan from Wall Maria… they didn’t do what the Eldians of the past had done, they didn’t kill anyone, did they really deserve to pay for crimes they didn’t know about?

Y/N was snapped out of her thoughts once more as Ymir waved a hand in front of her face. “Sorry,” Y/N muttered, glancing at the girls who sat at the table with her.

Christa stared back with a look of concern, while Ymir seemed to not care that much at all.

“Anyways,” Ymir looked back at Christa. “I was just telling Christa here all about the tension between you and that cocky bastard when you knocked him on his ass in training today.” The girl seemed to smirk slightly as her eyes flickered back to Y/N. “I didn’t realise blockhead two had a crush on-”

“And I was telling Ymir that it’s not like that. You would’ve told me, right, Y/N?” Christa asked, looking back and forth between her and Ymir as she awaited an answer.

Y/N couldn’t tell how Ymir had come to the conclusion that she and Jean were crushing on each other, not when they had nothing but bicker constantly. Maybe almost as much as Eren and Jean did, and everyone knew how bad that was.

“It’s not like that,” Y/N confirmed, beginning to pick at her breadroll. “He was being his usual annoying self, and I put him in his place.”

“Yeah, well, looked like he enjoys being put in his place,” Ymir teased. “If you know what I-”

“Ymir!” Christa squeaked out, staring at the taller girl with wide eyes. “You’re going to embarrass them.”

I can’t like Jean, or anybody for that matter, Y/N wished she could tell them.

How could she let herself fall for an island devil? It would be enough to get her killed when she returns to Marley. Retrieving the Founding Titan wouldn’t make up for the sin of loving a devil.

No, befriending them for the sake of the mission was one thing, but loving them?

And Jean of all people? She would never love him. Even if he was from Marley and she was allowed to fall for him, she wouldn’t.

“An easy life, deep inside the walls?” Eren spoke up, his eyes narrowed in Jean’s direction.

The tone of his voice was enough to break Y/N out of her thoughts as she realised the boys would undoubtedly get into another fight.

Her eyes flickered toward Reiner, a frown tugging at her lips. It reminded her too much of how Porco was always fighting Reiner back in Marley.

“Until five years ago, this was considered deep inside the walls,” Eren continued.

“What’s your point, Eren?” Jean crossed his arms.

“You don’t need to go to the interior.” Eren placed his cup on the table. “You’ve gone soft enough in your own head, Jean.”

Y/N hid her smile by resting her head in the palm of her head, though her smile faltered for a moment when her eyes met Jean’s, who had turned to look in her direction.

As Jean turned back toward Eren, the boy began speaking again. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we’re training to fight Titans, just to end up farther away from them?”

“Who cares? For my own sake, I hope they keep this stupid system,” Jean told him.

Right, the island devils were selfish people.

And Y/N was definitely not going to fall for Jean Kirstein. Not in a million years.

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein imagine

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 5 -

- Ao3 link -

It was not a letter that came to the Cloud Recesses in response to his query, but rather Lao Nie’s two sons.

Lan Qiren was made aware of their arrival when Lan Wangji burst into his room at a run, without knocking, and it was such a strange and bizarre occurrence – it was simply unthinkable for Lan Wangji to do such a thing, when his love and respect for the Lan sect rules were equal to Lan Qiren’s own, a special interest they shared and bonded over – that Lan Qiren immediately knew that something must have gone very wrong.

“Nie Huaisang is scared,” he said, his own golden eyes wide and round as the moon, his voice trembling as if this news was the worst thing that could ever happen. Indeed, Lan Qiren could not think of any instances in which he had known Nie Huaisang to suffer the emotion of fear: laziness, impertinence, annoyance, any number of emotions, yes, but never fear. “Shufu…”

“Where is he?” Lan Qiren asked, already rising to his feet – Lan Xichen, with whom he had been having tea, had already leapt up.

“Is Mingjue-xiong here as well?” he asked anxiously. “Is he well?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes filled up with tears and he shook his head furiously, his voice failing him, and Lan Qiren held out a hand to him. Lan Wangji put his smaller hand in his and started tugging him out the door. When he met the Nie boys at the gate, it was already after dinner, late by Lan standards with the sun already mostly set, and Nie Mingjue was unexpectedly wearing one of his winter cloaks; perhaps it was that which deceived Lan Qiren’s eyes, hiding his appearance until they returned with him to his rooms, or else it was simply that he had difficulty believing the evidence of his own vision.

“What happened?” he demanded, his hands gentle but determined on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders as he guided the boy into his well-lit home, forcing him at once to sit when he saw the state of him. Nie Mingjue was a mess: a black eye and a split lip, bruises on his cheek and his collarbone; his fingers were trembling and it was unclear what other injuries there was under his clothing. “Where’s Lao Nie?”

Nie Mingjue flinched when he asked; Nie Huaisang, following in behind him, burst into tears. He, at least, looked more shaken than actually injured: his lips were chapped from what must have been a blisteringly fast flight and there was a bruise at his brow, but one that seemed more like the sort that one would get from knocking into something by accident, rather than a fight gone horribly wrong.

Lan Qiren felt something cold slither up his spine.

“Where’s Lao Nie?” he asked again, suddenly afraid of the answer. “Did you come here by yourselves..?”

Technically permissible, given that Nie Mingjue was probably fifteen, but Lao Nie would never have allowed such a thing – and yet Nie Mingjue nodded dully.

“You need a doctor!” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue started violently, then reached out and caught Lan Xichen’s wrist before he could go to fetch one.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t, no. I don’t want anyone to know. I only came here because – because Huaisang –”

“I’m not letting you go back alone!” Nie Huaisang shouted, and his voice was hoarse, too, almost squeaking with the effort needed to speak. “I’m not! You promised you’d stay with me!”

Nie Mingjue averted his eyes.

“Da-ge…!”

Lan Qiren swallowed down his fear. “Xichen, get the medical supplies from my travel bag,” he instructed, interrupting the imminent battle between brothers, and Lan Xichen moved at once. “Wangji, fetch them both some water; Huaisang, you will drink the water before you lose any more of your voice. Mingjue…tell me what happened.”

The story, when it came out, was worse than Lan Qiren could have imagined.

A night-hunt gone wrong, that was with the realm of his expectation – a night-hunt against an especially vicious yao, a wild boar gone mad with the season and having cultivated to great strength, near-human in its cunning and malice but purely bestial in its unending strength. Such things had been the end of many cultivators, no matter how talented or powerful; it would have been something not unlike that which had put an end to the life of the light-hearted Cangse Sanren and her valorous husband.

But the rest of the story…

“Jiwei shattered?” Lan Qiren asked, unable to believe it. “Jiwei? How could that happen?”

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said, wiping his streaming eyes. “I could feel it, just before it happened – I felt him. His cultivation. He did something to Jiwei, all those months ago, that stupid party…he patted her a few times, I don’t know what he did. A-die’s been complaining ever since then that something seemed wrong, but he couldn’t quite say what it was so he just disregarded it.”

Lan Qiren swallowed again, his throat abruptly very dry. “That’s an accusation of murder against another sect leader, Mingjue,” he said carefully. “To say such a thing could lead the whole cultivation world into war.”

Nie Mingjue – honest, straightforward Nie Mingjue – looked up at him with red eyes. “But it’s true, Teacher Lan. He did it. I’m sure of it.”

Lan Qiren didn’t doubt him. Nie Mingjue might be young, but he was an exceptional cultivator. He wouldn’t have made a mistake of this type, not with something like this. And given his earnest, serious, and righteous nature, he wouldn’t speak lightly, either – if he said it, it meant he believed it; if he believed it, it was more than likely true.

Wen Ruohan had shattered Jiwei.

Whatever his motives, whether they were political or personal, whether he was avenging some grudge or perhaps just irate that Lao Nie had decided against sharing his bed or what – he had destroyed a spiritual weapon, which would be an abominable move under any circumstances but which was so much worse when the blade and master were so closely connected and intertwined as Lao Nie and Jiwei were.

Had been.

“And – Lao Nie – he…” Lan Qiren’s heart shook in his chest. “Is he…”

“He’s not dead,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Qiren’s knees went soft in relief. “But he’s not – he doesn’t act right.”

“Not right?” Lan Xichen asked. He was sitting next to Nie Mingjue, dabbing warm water on the wounds on his face; he clearly would have preferred to summon a doctor at once, and was equally clearly itching to tear off Nie Mingjue’s robes to get at the untended wounds that doubtless lay hidden there. “What do you mean?”

“He keeps asking for her,” Nie Huaisang said. His voice was high-pitched with stress; his hand was clenched around Lan Wangji’s, knuckles white, grip so tight that it must have hurt, although Lan Wangji said nothing to indicate any discomfort, even if he noticed it. “He’s always asking for someone to bring him his saber, asking where Jiwei is – even when we showed him the pieces, he didn’t recognize them. And he doesn’t recognize us, either!”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t recognize you?” Lan Qiren asked, voice sharp. “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“He thinks we’re his enemies,” Nie Huaisang said. “He doesn’t – he doesn’t believe us when we say we’re his children, he thinks we’re other people – calls us names I don’t recognize – he thinks we’re keeping Jiwei from him on purpose, and he gets angry. Teacher Lan, he gets so angry…”

Lan Qiren’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. “Mingjue,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Mingjue, A-Jue…how did you get those injuries?”

He’d thought that it was left over from the fight with the boar yao. Nie Mingjue had said he was there, that he’d finished the job after everyone was frozen because of what happened to Jiwei, after Lao Nie had nearly gotten gored with a tusk, and it was plausible. And yet, Lan Qiren knew too well how fearsome Lao Nie was in the midst of his rage, how violent, how vicious, how callous.

It was rage he would never turn against those he loved. But if he didn’t recognize them –

“Some are from the boar,” Nie Mingjue finally whispered, his head bowed in silent admission that that was not the source of all of his wounds. An admission that some of them had come from Lao Nie’s hand, and oh – that hurt most of all, to think of how Lao Nie would hate what he’d done. Lao Nie despised those who raised their fists to their own kin the most; he called them cowards, pathetic, monsters in human flesh.

He would hate more than any other what he had become at Wen Ruohan’s hands.

“What do the doctors say?” he asked, voice sticking in his throat.

Nie Mingjue’s head lowered still further. “Wait.”

He did not mean – they did not mean – that time would heal this illness.

They meant for him to wait until Lao Nie died.

“I will return with you to the Unclean Realm,” Lan Qiren decided, and Nie Mingjue started crying in abrupt relief.

“I didn’t dare hope – I just needed someone to watch Huaisang,” he said, stuttering over his words, face in his hands as he wept. “A-die said we could always come to you –”

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Nie Huaisang shouted at once, although his face was pale. “Da-ge, he’s my father too -”

“Your cultivation isn’t anywhere near strong enough to stand up to him! You need to be safe, Huaisang –”

“And you don’t? Da-ge! Teacher Lan, tell him!”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, calling for silence. “Huaisang,” he said sternly. “You wish to return because you fear for your brother, which is admirable – ‘be loyal and filial’. Yet remember that you must also extend faith to others. Do you trust me to make sure Mingjue is safe?”

After a moment, Nie Huaisang jerked his head in a nod.

“You will stay here with Xichen and Wangji,” Lan Qiren said. “Mingjue and I will go, and I will do what I can. To the best of my ability, I will not permit him to be harmed.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, comforted, and Lan Wangji solemnly squeezed his hand. They were young and easily deceived; but Lan Xichen, who was older, had not yet lost the look of concern on his face – unlike the younger two, he knew the vast difference in strength between Lao Nie and Lan Qiren.

If Lan Qiren were the more meticulous, the more targeted, then Lao Nie was still the blazing sun in comparison to his dim candle. Lan Qiren had never been permitted to leave the Cloud Recesses in search of adventure, had barely even been allowed to go to night-hunts to try to win fame lest he die and leave the Lan sect with a power vacuum, and even before that, as a child, he had been promising but painfully slow; he had always relied on Lao Nie for matters that called for sheer power. No matter how much Lan Qiren had cultivated through meditation and music and orthodox swordsmanship, enough for a golden core that shone brightly with a clear and pure light, it was nowhere near enough to give him the strength to stop Lao Nie if he was in the midst of a rampage.

Lan Qiren was no match for Lao Nie.

Lan Xichen knew that. Equally so, he knew that Lan Qiren obeyed their Lan sect rules as if they were a heavenly mandate: he would not lie.

To the best of his ability, he would not permit Nie Mingjue to be harmed – even if it cost him his own life.

It very well might.

“What’s your condition? How long do you need to rest before you can fly again?” he asked Nie Mingjue. If he could, Lan Qiren would side with Nie Huaisang and force Nie Mingjue to stay in the Cloud Recesses as well, to heal from wounds both external and internal – he might be as tall as a grown man, but Nie Mingjue was the same age as most of Lan Qiren’s students, most of them less than a year or two into night-hunting and convinced of their own immortality, foolish with confidence and deeply vulnerable beneath that. Nie Mingjue himself was steadier, had been night-hunting for years since Lao Nie had no plausible basis to deny him the right to it, but the hunted, scared look in his tear-reddened eyes showed that he was still just as fragile.

And yet, without him, Lan Qiren would not be allowed into the Unclean Realm.

He knew the protocols of the Qinghe Nie sect like the back of his hand: in such a dire situation they would retreat inside their fortress, bar the doors and refuse guests, wait for the storm to pass. They were brave and exuberant, always willing to rush out to be the first to face down evil, but they were also intensely private, each one of them. When the hurt came from the inside, they would hide the truth of it more thoroughly than they would a treasure.

Lao Nie would not be able to counter-order them – so Nie Mingjue had to be the one.

He’ll be sect leader next if Lao Nie dies, Lan Qiren thought, and felt abruptly sick to his stomach.

The Nie sect valued martial strength much more than the Lan sect, prized their saber spirits above all else, even safety; Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be forced to give up saber training or night-hunting the way Lan Qiren had had to. But the demands of the position of sect leader were relentless, taxing beyond belief, and something would have to give – it would be everything else that would need to be sacrificed.

All of Nie Mingjue’s softness, the hobbies he enjoyed in his spare time, the books he liked to read; his time with friends, his inclination to play, to read, to learn, to do things for pleasure, his ability to act spontaneously without first thinking of what it might mean for his sect. Even the tears that flowed so easily down his face now would become a luxury he could not afford, a weakness he would need to hide away until only a few close friends could see it.

His sect elders would probably want him married off as soon as possible, too, and never mind that he was too young – Nie Huaisang was still young, too young, but he’d never been especially promising, not the way Nie Mingjue was, and the Nie sect elders knew very well how the saber spirit worked, how the most talented were often the earliest to die. Lan Qiren had a letter on his desk from Lao Nie, only a few months old, complaining that they were already pressing for him to find an engagement for his eldest.

If they had their way, they would put Nie Mingjue to stud at once, hoping for at least three strong sons to carry on the family name by the time he died, and in so doing would selfishly sacrifice any hope he might have of finding love…

“I can keep going at once,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Qiren leveled him with a stern look. “I can! Teacher Lan, trust me, I know myself. Let me meditate as you get ready; two incense sticks and I’ll be capable of the return journey.”

“Take a shichen,” Lan Qiren instructed, and glared Nie Mingjue into silence when he tried to protest. “The journey to Qinghe is long, and we will need to make stops along the way regardless to recover the strength to continue. Overexerting yourself could damage your cultivation, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Do you understand me?��

“Yes, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said. He was as headstrong as any Nie, but on everything but a matter of principle he generally erred in favor of obedience; a good, filial child. He would need to get rid of that trait, too, if he were to become sect leader…

“It will take that long for me to get matters in place for my departure,” Lan Qiren added, a comfort, and he had the pleasure of seeing Nie Mingjue’s shoulders inch down a little from his ears. “Xichen, go to the kitchens; tell them we require something warm – soup for sure, and preferably a meat dish, if there is any. Do not accept no as an answer.”

Lan Xichen barely took the time to nod before he was out the door. Nie Mingjue was already folding himself down into a sitting pose to meditate, drinking the water Lan Wangji had brought him, and Lan Qiren looked at his second nephew and his best friend’s second son.

“Wangji,” he said, and Lan Wangji looked at him at once, seriousness written into every line of him. “Take Huaisang back to your quarters and keep him there, hidden from notice. As few people as possible should know that he is here at all, and even fewer where he is being kept.”

There was a glimmer of fear in Lan Wangji’s eyes as he absorbed the implications of that – that there were those that might want to take advantage of the crisis to harm the Nie sect, even here in the Cloud Recesses, that Nie Huaisang was the most vulnerable of them all with his weak golden core and no defender by his side, that he could be subject to death or kidnapping or worse – but he nodded deeply, saluted as best as he could without releasing Nie Huaisang’s hand from his own, and tugged Nie Huaisang along with him.

“Da-ge…?” Nie Huaisang asked, twisting to look at Nie Mingjue, who nodded encouragement at him. With a sniff and a swipe of his nose on his sleeve, he finally went, trailing behind Lan Wangji.

Lan Qiren busied himself with the preparations he needed to make – he hated to plan a journey that did not have a set endpoint, but he’d gotten better at it and this was one in which it was clearly necessary. As far as he knew, he might never make it back to the Cloud Recesses, and Wen Ruohan would have struck down two sects in a single blow.

It was, in all truth, pure foolishness for him to go. All the sect elders would advise against it, marshaling any number of citations to the rules and arguments to support them.

Lan Qiren didn’t care.

He could think of dozens of rules to cite as rebuttals, his heart hurting in his chest all the while, but in the end he could only think about how taking the time to argue at all would delay him, how it would extend Lao Nie’s suffering if he dithered and debated instead of acting swiftly. Lan Qiren might die, yes, but he had to try to help. He owed it to Lao Nie to do anything he could.

He owed it to himself.

#mdzs #lan qiren #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #tedious joys #tw: child abuse #tw: domestic violence #but like #unintentional?

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

The villain series II

The hour of judgement

tw: imprisonment, isolation, obsessive behavior, psychological torture?, coercion, slight hint of future Stockholm syndrome

The time was going by slowly. So slowly you could hear every click of the golden arrow on the dusty old clock up on the white wall. A second, a minute, a whole entirnity. Here everything was white, empty, unnerving. It was so cold you could see your naked flesh turning thin and blue, shivers running down your spine. Your teeth were clenching tight, but there was nothing to chew on. Despite constantly running your tongue trough your chapped lips, your mouth was still painfully dry. How long have you been in this tiny suffocating closet? Perhaps it had been too long because your dreams were filled with sun, warmth and the soft caress of Mother nature. Yet you always woke up in this stuffed little space, never left with enough room to breathe or sob or beg to be released.

"Gambit, please." You called out from inside in a quiet broken tone, fighting the urge to scratch at the door for his attention. For one you actually wanted to save up your energy and for two, you knew what was the consequence for acting like a pest. You couldn't stand another day of being treated like a stray. "Please, I am so thirsty I may die." You pleaded softly, your face twisted in desperation. You knew that showing weakness would only give him more power to destroy and the satisfaction of doing so himself, just like a demon feeding off the weak, but you couldn't find enough willpower to do better. To be stronger or wiser. Not when the nausea had overcome you yet again and the muscles of your gut clenched tight, mouth watering, forcing you to gag on your own stomach juices before throwing up every last drop of the acid liquid on the ground, making it even filthier than it used to be. The strong smell burned your nostrils and you wished you could cry, but your dehydrated body just wouldn't produce tears anymore. You were so tired and you couldn't even relieve your aching soul.

"Don't worry, my sweet angel." The villain finally replied, the malicious smirk reflecting in his teasing voice. "It's mostly believed that people can survive only three days without water." He chuckled shortly after. "But you have no idea how much time has passed, do you?" There was a long moment of silence, when all you could hear was the rhythmic beat of his rotten heart. You wondered whether it actually existed or you were just imagining it to calm your stretched nerves down.

"What do I need to do for you to let me out?" You asked suddenly, clinging to your last hope like a dying child to the end of the ship. "I will do anything, just please let me out!" You added, banging on the wooden door with both of your fists until your wrists turned red and sore. And even then you kept going, maybe eventually you would break the hard surface, trapping you away from the freedom you desired.

"It's really simple, darling." The criminal answered, laughing cruelly at your pain. The man hated seeing you so miserable and lonely but he could already taste the sweet victory on his lips. He had won. "Love me." The villain whispered, new sense of tenderness filling his lungs as he pictured the bright future awaiting. He couldn't wait to hold you down and take you, sleep next to you, turn you into the perfect little lover he had always dreamed of. "If you give me your heart, I will spare your body." The madman mumbled yet you heard him so clearly you regretted ever opening your mouth. But you were so exhausted and hungry, so deprived of your basic human needs, your pride stripped away long time ago. It didn't matter if you bent now because you had been kneeling since the first time the man saw you and decided to have you by force. And then there was Cedric... The person you loved, the one who adored you with all your little flaws and imperfections, who never gave up on you despite all the hardships. He wasn't here now. He couldn't feel your breaking bones or make you forget the pain with a kiss. You couldn't hear his sweet voice ringing in your ear like a melody. You didn't have a choice. Neither your desires nor your past life mattered anymore. This wasn't a performance. It was survival.

"Okay." You uttered lastly, hugging your knees with your bare hands. Your fingers felt cold on your skin but you kept reminding yourself that the end of your suffering was near. "I will love you just the way you want to be loved."

Your words provoked a chain reaction - the key was pushed in and the door opened soon afterwards. You were met with opened arms and a stern gaze fixated on your quivering frame. You pushed yourself into your feet, stumbling along the way because of the dizziness in your head. You found the right path towards the impatient waiting man, wrapping your sore arms around him. In return he held you close, squeezing your soft bruised body. The criminal was so warm and his embrace felt so Iight and airy on your naked skin. He placed a small kiss on your burning forehead - such a innocent loving gesture, making your blood boil in fear, but you just couldn't help yourself. Your life depended on pleasing a villain.

"G-gambit..." You sobbed, resting your head on his shoulder. His big hand was stroking your back gently, reassuringly. It created the illusion of safety - like everything was fine now. Like the man wouldn't torture you again just to hear you say those three sweet words for him.

"Oh darling..." He almost growled in your ear with a husky voice, filled with pleasure and satisfaction. The villain resembled a tiger who had finally caught his pray, ready to devour it in one bite. Instead he was playing around, scratching and licking the poor lamb, feeling powerful and strong. "Please, just call me Nicholas."

#male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere villian x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #male yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere prompt #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagine #yancore

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papellie · 3 years

Text

JUJUTSU KAISEN Y/N CHARACTER IDEAS FOR THE FANFIC WRITERS OUT THERE!!!

1. Y/N is the eldest child of the head of one of the most powerful families of jujutsu sorcerers making her next in line for the seat. But she cannot control her curse energy and technique. Given this situations she was constantly discriminated in the household. Even if things were like this, her father loved her and did not take the position from her.

To remove her from the lineage, the elders conspired against her giving her a special grade rank. With the fact that she has no control over her powers they thought she'll eventually die from taking on special grade missions and her father cannot do anything about this.

Little did they know, because she was on death's door they made a monster that will wreak havoc and will destroy everything on its path.

2. Y/N is a curse spirit/cursed doll who—at first—had no free will. She acted only what her creator wishes.

3. Y/N can see curses.

When she was younger she lived in the country side with her grandparents. But she started seeing curses specially in school and it affected her so much that she doesn't leave her grandmother's side. Her parents were working in Tokyo and decided to bring her there too, thinking that she won't be scared anymore because the city is always busy. But little do they know that there are more hideous and frightening curses out there.

She doesn't want to burden her family anymore so she stayed quiet while shaking in fear everytime she encounters one.

4. MC is one of Choso's younger siblings (Preferably female)

Same parents with Yuji. Her mother (when inhibited by Kenjaku [the ancient sorcerer {mentioned in chapter 145}]) had kept her a secret. The body was alive but it has no soul making her just bedridden for her whole life. Her cursed technique is that whoever and whatever touches her with cursed energy, she instantly nullifies it. Kenjaku had been experimenting on the body for years taking her on the verge of death everytime. That's where Choso see's visions of an unfamiliar girl(MC) just like when his other sibling are on death's door. Kenjaku planned to take the body as his after possessing Suguru Geto's.

Soul inhibitants options:

• MC is Isekai-ed and transported to jjk world. (I've been reading way too much historical reincarnation manhwa for this on lmao)

• Heaven blessed the body with the soul probably by the time kf Shibuya arc. Personality is like a child because it's the first time waking up to the world and she is just learning. Relationships: has a strong connection to Choso and Yuji because they're siblings. (Getting a overprotective older brother Choso yeyy!!!)

5. MC is part of the Gojo Clan

She was strong as a jujutsu sorcerer but she does not exceed their family's standards, specially being one of the strongest clan. Y/N admired Satoru so much as a kid. He was her idol and the only one who cared for her in the suffocating household. But when he started to go to Jujutsu Technical College he had made friends the same age as him and gave his all to them. Y/N had felt left out but deep inside she knew he'll have to live a life that didn't circulate on just protecting her.

The little attention she gets whenever he returned to the household during his school breaks was okay. But then some time after when she heard he had killed one member of the Zenin clan he had became cold and distant. Not long, he had permanently left the household and never visited, he had left her all alone.

In rare times when they talked he was cheerful, yes, but Y/N had became more sensitive to so many things because of the pressure of their family and Satoru didn't know her anymore.

She no longer enjoyed the time she had with him. All he does was lecture her or only talk about his students and her jealousy eats her up whenever he mentions and boast about the black-haired kid who had the shadow technique that he practically raises.

When she entered high school she had pleaded to Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College just because he hated that white-haired jerk so much. But Satoru always gets what he wants. Now she lives in constant anxiety that she thought she would've scaped from her household but now she's getting the treatment from the person who had saved from from at first.

I don't know what's the ship here lmao. But for me it's no Y/NxGojo Satoru. They're cousins here(emphasis on that).

You can use her hatred to Megumi though. Make an angsty Megumi x Y/N where they're rivals.

6. Y/N is one of Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College third year student(s).

(We got some info on one of the third years in the lastest chap so MANGA SPOILER) (Noritoshi Kamo x Y/N rivalry & secret feelings)

She's a first grade sorcerer that was suspended with her other classmate(s) and she actually liked being suspended. She hated being a sorcerer. Coming from a powerful jujustu clan she was forced to be one. She has been making all sorts of delinquent acts but her family won't let her go because she was wielding the family's powerful curse technique. But as a woman, her clan fully denies of her being the head of the family. So they are tying her down to the heir of the Kamo Clan.

She hated the boy, how he was prim and proper while she dyed her hair for several times this year. She hated him because of how he was dumb for letting his family control him. But the truth is she hated his clan for changing him to a person that has no freedom. He broke the promise that they made when they were children. That they will only marry the person they loved because their parents never did that's why they didn't loved their children(them) too.

In her eyes, she knew he didn't love her but she did. She will never admit to that fact because she knows he will just be suffocate by it. But little did she know that they have the same thoughts—and probably feelings—of each other.

(Lmao I'm going to separate this cause y'all gonna know when you read)

As a past time for being suspended she goes to best friend Takada-chan's concerts and sometime she gets invited to go to stage to perform. (Forgive me. I've been watching way too much kpop performances lately)

will add more ideas when I get more. So make sure to come back! and if you guys have some don't be afraid to comment!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fanfic #fanfic ideas #jujutsu kaisen fandom #jjk anime #jjk imagines #character ideas #character idea #gojo imagine #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #x reader #angst #fluff #jjk noritoshi #jjk

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sokkascroptop · 3 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 21

part 1 | part 20 | part 22

a/n: annnnnnd another Day of the Black Sun chapter!! I promise this is the last one. I’m really just putting Y/N through it in these last few chapters aren’t I? writing the chapter like this was not the original plan but i had a dream about it and then a very timely anon asked me if y/n was going to be in a Fire Nation prison and I figured... hey why the fuck not you know?

Also! Haruki is Y/N second oldest brother, and again, Ren is her oldest.

tw: verbal/physical abuse, fighting. Yes, her dad was always going to be this bad of a guy, I just never planned on them meeting up again.

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Katara as the Fire Nation army dropped bombs over where they hid. Aang and Toph had resurrected a small cliff jutting out of the mountainside to protect them, but even that was cracking under the pressure.

When the bombing stopped, Katara crawled out first. She pointed out towards the water. “Why aren’t they turning around and attacking? They’re headed towards the beach.”

Aang joined Katara, Sokka and Y/N at the edge of the path. The four of them watched as the airships seemingly retreated from them, headed in the completely opposite direction.

“They’re going to destroy the submarines!” Aang shouted suddenly.

As Y/N watched the Fire Nation balloons fly towards the beach, hurrying to destroy their only way out, the pit in her stomach grew larger. After the rest of the failures of today, Y/N wasn’t even surprised.

“We’re trapped,” she muttered.

“How are we going to get out of here now?” Sokka asked no one in particular. He was voicing the same question they all had.

“We aren’t,” Hakoda said from just under the cliff. He leaned on Bato heavily, still holding his injured side.

“Then we have to stand and fight,” Sokka furrowed his brow in determination. “We have Aang, we can still win.”

“With the Avatar we could still win, but on another day.” Hakoda, with effort, took his arm from around Bato and pulled himself to his full, brawny height. “You kids have to leave.”

Leave? Y/N’s eyes widened at the thought. Was Hakoda possibly suggesting that they leave the rest of his fleet here to fend for themselves?

“What?!” Katara rushed forward to grab her father’s arms. “We can’t leave you behind. We’re not leaving anyone behind.”

Hakoda bent down to look his daughter in the eyes. “You’re our only chance in the long run. You have to take Aang somewhere safe. You have to keep hope alive.”

Katara looked away from her father, back to her friends. Y/N could see the tears flooding her eyes at the thought of leaving her father behind–losing him–once again. Y/N’s heart ached for Katara. It ached for Sokka too. He was about to take on so much responsibility. He was also about to shove the full brunt of the blame for the invasion plan not working onto his own shoulders; Y/N could already see the guilt wearing on him with the way he looked at his father.

“The adults will stay behind and surrender. We will be prisoners, but we’ll all survive this battle,” Bato said, his voice morose.

Y/N felt a rush of urgency roll through her body. As much as she could see that Katara and Sokka didn’t like the idea, they weren’t speaking up against it. No one had an idea that was better. Except for maybe Y/N. She couldn’t let the rest of them stay behind like sitting turtle-ducks, waiting to be picked up and imprisoned. She had to do something.

“No way. I’m not going to let that happen.” Y/N’s voice rang through the troops. She didn’t stop there, not after stunning everyone into silence. She approached Hakoda and Katara stepped away to stand next to him. “I can get you out of here.”

Sokka erupted. “You can’t stay behind! You’ll get thrown into prison. You can’t!” He grabbed her hand like he wanted to plead with her but Y/N was already twisting out of his grip. She didn’t need him to make this harder than it already was.

“No! I can’t just leave knowing I could have done something,” She shouted at Sokka. Y/N turned back to Hakoda. “I know this island. There are forests and mountains and there are thousands of caves to hide in. I can take us there and then no one needs to get caught!” She stared into Hakoda’s eyes with each word she spoke.

As much as she wished Hakoda would jump at the chance to save himself, he didn’t look convinced that it was worth risking Y/N’s freedom as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt turn Y/N’s offer down and send her on her way with her friends on Appa, with the adults left behind in the dust to suffer the consequences.

But Y/N was faster. She spoke around the lump in her throat. “If you stay behind, you won’t live to see the end of this war. And I know that too.” Her voice was low enough that only those around her could hear her words; Katara gasped at her bluntness.

Even then, Y/N was surprised when Hakoda gave a curt nod to her, much to Sokka’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to give Y/N the lecture he so badly wanted to because just then, The Duke hollered, “They’re at the beaches!”

Y/N turned around to watch in horror as the Fire Nation airships dropped bombs onto the submarines that they had ridden in not 30 minutes ago. They were completely and utterly decimated with so much excessive firepower that Y/N could smell the burning from where they were. With their only escape officially cut off, a nervous murmuring broke out among the troops, and suddenly Y/N was extremely anxious for herself.

How was she supposed to get a group as large as theirs around in the jungle silently, looking for a hiding place? What had she just gotten herself into?

---

Their goodbyes were quick. They had to be. Katara hugged her first, squeezing her so tight that Y/N thought she would stop breathing. It was a welcome comfort.

“I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Katara bit her lip. “As much as I hate the idea.”

“This is our only chance,” Y/N replied. Because what else was she supposed to say? How could she comfort someone else and when she couldn’t even do that for herself.

Katara squeezed her arm. “I know.”

She left only to be quickly replaced by Toph who gave Y/N a very uncharacteristic hug. “You better come back soon. I can’t deal with all of Sokka’s whining while you’re gone.”

It was meant to be lighthearted; something that would make Y/N giggle, but there was a seriousness to it as well. Did Sokka really rely on her company so much? They hadn’t been separated for more than a few hours since she had joined them. She didn’t want to think what a few days would do to either of them.

“You got it, Toph. Keep everyone safe for me, alright?”

The younger girl nodded and earthbent herself up to Appa’s saddle.

---

Aang was still staring off at the burning submarines when Y/N approached him from behind, laying a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. I told you, you’re going to have another chance at taking down the Firelord.”

Aang turned to look at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Only because I have people sacrificing everything for me.”

Y/N nodded. “Sometimes–” she sighed and chewed on her chapped lips. She didn’t need to give the boy a lecture on the hardships of war. He knew far too much of that already. “We know what we’re doing. We want to do this for you. You’re the most important tile on the pai sho board, Aang.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe her. “I’m taking everyone to the–”

“No.” Y/N broke in and looked away. “Don’t tell me where you’ll be. Just in case.”

Aang looked at her with sad, grey eyes, knowing exactly why she didn’t want to know the location of where he would be hiding out. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her before airbending himself to Appa. Y/N watched as he hid his head in a way so that he didn’t have to look at anyone that he was leaving behind; his shoulders shook with sobs.

---

When Sokka approached her, Y/N unstrapped her sword from her back and held it out to him.

“What are you doing? You might need this.” He said, surprised. His voice was thick with unshed tears. Y/N could tell he was trying to stay strong at the thought of leaving behind so many. His jaw was set and he couldn’t quite look at her directly.

Y/N did the same, looking everywhere but Sokka’s eyes, after realizing that was the only thing that was going to stop her from crying in the moment. “I have my knife. Besides, this is assurance that I’ll come back to you. I wouldn’t let you keep it forever.” Y/N let out a watery laugh.

She wrapped her arms around Sokka and hugged him like she’d never hugged anyone before. She felt so much more grounded when she was around him. She felt like she was finally accepted. It was so hard to let go of that feeling that she had been searching for her whole life. She wanted to remain there, bathed in warmth forever, but she knew she would have to let him go sooner than she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” She whispered the words into his shoulder, because saying goodbye made it too real.

A quick kiss to the lips and then Appa was gone, carrying her friends and disappearing in the smoke like they had never been there in the first place. Which is exactly what she wanted.

Y/N allowed herself to take a shuddering breath in and out. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face the troop of warriors she was meant to lead to safety.

“Let’s go.”

---

They moved as quickly as they could for a group of 20-some-odd warriors and a young girl at their helm.

In those early years, before she lived at the palace, she would explore her new home in the Fire Nation with her brothers; before Ren joined the army and before Haruki got mean. That meant she knew the terrain well enough to get them around, but keeping them hidden, well that was a whole other story.

Every time that Y/N heard a branch snap, her head would turn back expecting to see them overrun with Fire Nation soldiers, but it hadn’t happened. And the farther they got from the Royal Caldera City, the easier she began to breathe. That was until she heard shouting in the distance.

Their words weren’t discernible from where she was at, the wind was whipping too hard in the tops of the trees above her, but it was clear that they weren’t safe yet. She had the men pause and crouch down as she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet. It was a pointless motion, no one had said a word since they’d left the cliffs behind.

“There’s some large caves about 100 yards ahead through the trees,” Y/N whispered to Hakoda. She clamped her lips together as she heard another yell, off in the trees. Much closer this time.

“Why are you telling me?” Hakoda shook his head.

“Because I’m going to go draw those soldiers away so you can take everyone there?” Y/N stood up and drew her knife.

“That’s not a good idea, Y/N.” Hakoda warned.

Y/N wasn’t sure it was either, but she’d made it her duty to get these warriors to somewhere where they could hide. She made a promise to herself that she would do it. “I’m fast. I’ll meet you back there.”

Y/N took off before Hakoda could say anything else to her.

---

Y/N found the soldiers. She hid between a fork of trees watching them traipse around making far too much noise to be any good at tracking. It didn’t matter though, if they saw them they’d capture them. Y/N chewed on a nail as she thought of a plan to lure them in the opposite direction just to give Hakoda and Bato extra time to lead their group to somewhere safe.

Y/N flinched as she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She ducked further down into the brush, hoping that the black of her armor and the setting sun would hide her.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Y/N whipped around with her knife ready to embed it in the poor soldier who decided to mess with her.

She pulled back just in time to save Hakoda’s face from a fresh wound.

She dragged him down next to her in the brush quickly to avoid being seen. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why didn’t you go with the other kids?” He retorted.

Y/N looked away ashamed. She didn’t know how to answer him. How was she supposed to admit that if she had left she would have felt like she was running away. Even though she didn’t think that of Sokka or Aang, she felt it about herself. She never would have been able to justify leaving people behind for her own sake. She deserved it. It was her punishment to stay behind and risk her life. Punishment for leaving Azula, punishment for even thinking like that still, punishment for asking Azula to come with her, punishment for getting Suki thrown in prison. Y/N couldn’t stop the sins she had committed from filling her brain and swirling around until her ears rang.

“So what’s your plan?” Hakoda asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

Y/N hadn’t gotten as far as already having a plan made but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re still hurt.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“You should,” Y/N muttered.

“Come on,” Hakoda bumped her elbow. “I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll split up and lure them off in that direction.” Hakoda nodded his head in the direction of Capital City. “Then, we’ll double back and head to the cave.”

Y/N nodded and waited for Hakoda to get in position, then she took off running, cutting directly through the group of Fire Nation soldiers in front of her.

Y/N made as much noise as she possibly could as she ran away from the soldiers, snapping branches and kicking bushes to make sure they were following her. She could hear the pounding of their boots as they chased her through the thicket and distant yelling as they ordered her to stop. Y/N’s heart raced everytime she slipped in the mud or stumbled over roots, thinking that every second would be the one where she was caught.

What eventually caught her attention was the sound of silence in the forest. Well, as silent as a forest could get. Sure, she could still hear birds in the trees and the wind blowing, but the only sound of footsteps were her own.

She spared a glance behind her and didn’t see anyone either and so Y/N began to slow to a jog. She was very suddenly aware that if no one was chasing her anymore, the only other person there was to chase was Hakoda.

But then Y/N ran into a wall.

Except that wall was a person in Fire Nation armor.

And he was grinning like he had just won the lottery.

---

Y/N pulled her knife but before she could take a stab at him, he grabbed and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop it. She shrieked as her wrist popped; any more force and it would have broken. Y/N kicked the soldier in the shin and the man grunted, but never let go of her hand. She pulled and pulled against him, but he was easily twice her weight and it was no use.

Y/N grabbed at his fingers and began pulling them off of her wrist. “Let go!!”

“Stop!” The soldier made a grab for her other hand and Y/N kicked out at him again, trying to keep him as far away as possible. “Stop kicking me!” He yelled.

“Then let go!!” Y/N growled as she grabbed his pinky finger and bent it backwards.

He did at that, yanking his hand away from Y/N’s fingers hastily.

Someone grabbed her from behind and spun her around to face them. An orange flame danced much too close in her peripheral. Y/N froze in fear as a voice muttered, “If you keep that up, you’ll lose those fingers.”

---

Y/N didn’t have much to say after that. She allowed the two soldiers to tie her hands behind her back and lead her to a small clearing where the rest of the soldiers waited. Kneeling in the middle, was Hakoda.

He looked rough. There was a fresh bruise above his eye and there was fresh blood on his shirt; Y/N thought he might have reopened his previous wound on his side.

Y/N was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet his eyes when she was shoved to the ground next to him. Instead, she focused on what was being said around them. Behind her, she could hear the soldier’s whispering about them. They knew who Hakoda was; that one was apparently pretty obvious with his Water Tribe armor, but her, she was an anomaly to them.

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the soldiers who had captured her said. “They’re both going to the same place. The commander is going to want to talk to anyone who was possibly involved in the invasion. Then he’ll send them off.”

---

Y/N wasn’t sure if she recognized the compound or not. She’d visited so many when her father was first moved to the Capital City and all of them looked the same. Large stone walls, look-out towers where guards were stationed, gates with metal bars as thick as Y/N’s arms at every entrance and exit.

The sun was gone and it was pitch black, save for the lanterns lit around the grounds. The cool air had settled and Y/N shivered as her metal armor did nothing to keep her warm. Her hands were still tied behind her back so she couldn’t even wrap her arms around her torso to provide some windbreak. But then again, she also could have been shivering at the anticipation of what was going to come next.

They were met outside a set of large doors by someone who was high ranking; Y/N could tell by the way the soldier at her side stiffened up at his arrival. He stood just outside of the lamp light and Y/N’s eyes strained to get a look at him.

“Sir, we found these two running through the woods near where the invasion force was sighted.”

“And the others?” his voice was gravelly and familiar. Y/N held her breath awaiting the answer.

The soldier shook his head shamefully. “No sign of them.”

Y/N was able to relax for a second. Okay, the rest of them were still safely hidden.

The man took that moment to step out of the shadows and Y/N gasped. She knew him, and he knew her by the smile on his face. She flashed back to stuffy dinners at her house where they entertained army officers almost weekly. This was one of her father’s best friends, and if this man was here, he would be too.

“No matter.” He unfolded his hands from behind his back and grabbed Y/N’s chin gruffly. “Look who we caught.”

Y/N jerked her head out of his hand and glared. He pretended to not be perturbed and motioned for the other soldiers to take Hakoda away.

Y/N freaked out. She thrashed around and did everything in her power to block the soldiers from even touching him.

“You can’t take him!” she screamed. “Leave him alone! He wasn’t a part of this!”

It took two of them to hold her back.

“Y/N,” Hakoda said. His voice made her grow quiet, her legs felt like jelly underneath her. The look he gave her was grave and it made her heart thud with uncontrollable worry. “It’s okay. Don’t—“

They were already pulling him in the opposite direction they were taking her.

“I know!” She yelled back. He had to know that she would follow his instructions, he had to know that she would do everything in her power to keep quiet. She wasn’t going to turn on them at the first sign of trouble. Never.

She chanted the words in her head like a psalm: Don’t say anything about Aang. Don’t say anything about the invasion. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

---

Y/N was led gruffly through one set of doors and then another and shoved onto her knees in an office. She was left alone, which wasn’t at all surprising. She was about to get interrogated by the only man she’d never been able to fool. And he wouldn’t want anyone around to witness his disgrace of seeing his own daughter being the enemy.

The door behind her was opened so forcefully it nearly fell off the hinges and Y/N flinched. He took no time walking around her and leaning on the front edge of the desk in the corner.

Y/N couldn’t see him though, she’d only heard the stomp of his boots on the floor. She had turned her face into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the yelling.

She could feel his eyes travel over her short hair, her black armor, the red clothes that she still wore; as if she couldn’t choose between familiarity or blatant treason.

With a stroke of bravery that came from within, Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “Hi Dad.”

---

Y/N was sure flames were going to leap out of his eyes. He was dressed in all his Fire Nation armor as if he had just stepped onto the base from his ship. Y/N used to think it made him look important and regal, the high points on the shoulders of his chest-piece and the arm guards that had had the Fire Nation symbol up the sides in gold. All of that coupled with his build and height made him an intimidating man. Y/N wanted to be like him for so long; now it just looked like he was compensating for his own inadequacies.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father’s voice shook with anger. Each word he said was clipped like a punch to the gut.

“I’m saving the world.”

He scoffed. “You’ve always thought that you were more important than you ever were.”

“I’m finally doing something for myself.” For some reason Y/N felt like she needed her father to see the reasoning behind her actions, as if he could understand them, he would be more sympathetic. But he’d never been sympathetic towards her.

“This is the opposite of for yourself!! You’re working against us! Against your family! You’ve betrayed us all, worst of all you’ve betrayed me.” Y/N’s father began to pace in front of her.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever disappointed you,” Y/N muttered.

“I always knew there was something wrong with you. I thought when you became friends with the Fire Princess, you’d finally found a purpose, but you’ve always been weak-minded. You’re so easily swayed one way or another by the words of others.”

“No one said a word to sway me in any direction! I made this choice for myself!” Y/N shouted defensively.

“It’s why you can’t firebend,” He continued, not listening to a word that came out of her mouth. “You’ve never been strong enough, you don’t have an inner fire.”

Y/N sighed as the same song and dance of her childhood circled around her. Her father had always believed that the only reason she was a non-bender was because she simply wasn’t powerful enough to produce flames, not that it was possible she just wasn’t a bender.

“Why does the conversation always lead back to–”

“Silence!” Y/N’s cheek stung as the back of his hand collided with it.

Her father stood in front of her and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always make me so mad, Y/N.” he said, almost sadly. “I tried to take care of this weeks ago, the second I learned of your rebellion–”

“What?” Y/N whimpered, she looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “What do you mean take care of this? Did–did you send those men after me? To kill me?!”

“You think I wanted to?!” Her father shouted. “You’re a traitor. You turned your back on your nation. You’ve embarrassed me enough. What are they going to think of a commander who’s 15 year old daughter attempted to stage a coup with the Avatar and the Water Tribe savages?”

Y/N felt lightheaded. She wasn’t even listening to his words anymore. Azula didn’t try and kill her, her own father did. She had blamed Azula for so many things and this was one thing that she was completely innocent of.

Finally, he turned his back on Y/N. The action was terminal and unwavering. “No one can know you were involved. It will ruin my reputation and I’ll be damned if you do anything more to tarnish the family name.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest and let her tears flow freely, now that his eyes were off of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that her father would do anything as drastic as this. She wouldn’t expect forgiveness from him, that just wasn’t his way, but he was still her father.

What would he have done if Kaito had been successful in his attempt on her life? How could her father have gone home to Y/N’s mother and acted like he didn’t have a part in her death? Would it roll off like water on a duck’s back, or would he have regrets?

The worst part was the waves of disappointment that rolled through Y/N’s body. She wrestled with anger and embarrassment for her part in it all. She fought her whole life to gain the approval of the man standing in front of her and with one fell swoop she had knocked down everything she had already built up as if it was nothing, not the blood, sweat and tears she had put into it for so long.

Nothing could ever remedy the choices she had made in her father’s mind. Once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t one to change it. And while Y/N still stood by them for being the right decisions, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could be, had everything been different. The outcomes were endless, but one thing was always certain; her father couldn’t have ever really loved her if he was so easily able to dispose of her.

----

A/N: so where do you think she’s going? lmao, y’all get One Guess. sorry not sorry for the angst.

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doctoranon · 3 years

Text

No Magic In The World.

Written for the Maribat? Get In! Civil war.

This is a direct sequel to I Must Be Dreaming so it would be best to read that. Though it works easily enough by itself.

TW: Mentions of sex, alcohol, driving under the influence and vague suicidal thoughts.

Waking up in another unfamiliar bed, Jason's head was banging with a raging hangover. Rolling over and out the bed he stumbled to the sink in the hotel bathroom to retch. This was becoming a bit of a regular occurrence. But the welcome oblivion of no dreams kept his heart from breaking over and over again every time he woke up and realised Marinette wasn’t going to be laying in the bed next to him. Dreams of her were a sweet torture, and he’d quickly decided no dreams of her were worth the moment of bliss he felt before reality intruded upon his waking mind.

Leaning over the sink he felt rather than saw as two slender arms held him from behind, and for a moment he dreamed of familiar arms and the smell of apple blossoms, before roughly pushing the woman away.

“What the fuck are you still doing here for?” he sneered, looking at her over his shoulder in the mirror. He took the woman in, icy blue eyes and a dark brunette. Looks like his drunken ass couldn’t even get that right. Then again, no one would ever come close to Marinette's fierce beauty.

The woman stuttered in confusion at him. Bless. She thought this was more than a drunken tumble and a subpar substitute. Holding a hand to his banging head he scoffed at ther, pointing at the door. “I don’t give a shit. Fuck. Off.”

He knew, somewhere in his mind, that he was treating the poor woman awfully. Unfortunately his self disgust at touching another woman but her had him taking it out on her. Flashes of the night before came to mind, and mixed with his already nauseous stomach he threw up what little he had left in his system.

Hearing sobs from the other room and a slam of the door he grimaced. Not his most shining hour but he didn’t give a fuck right now. He’d cheated on Mari, fuck the fact she was- shaking the word from his head he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He was in a sorry state. Pale skin, dark red rimmed eyes. He’d even lost some muscle mass and weight. He was a shadow of his former self. Splashing some cold water on his face, he moved to the other room, dressing as he found articles of his clothing.

Sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, one which he refused to look at, he took out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten hammered and fucked his feelings away with a poor substitute and it disgusted him. How could he ever take someone else into his bed, drunk or not? He physically shuddered as another bout of nausea rolled through his stomach. It always left him feeling unclean. Unworthy.

He groaned when the silence of the hotel room was broken by the ringing of his phone. He took it in his free hand and scoffed at the displayed name.

Incoming call. Dickhead.

Rejecting the call and throwing it back on the bedside table, he finished his cigarette before lighting a second one straight away. Seeing a mostly empty bottle of whiskey on the dresser he staggered over and picked up a packet of painkillers and proceeded to wash a few down with what was left, relishing the burn at the back of his throat.

Looking around for another bottle he scoffed at the litter of empty ones. Not one had any left in it. Looked like he was making a trip to the liquor store very soon in his future.

In the background his phone had started ringing again, be he wasn’t up for his sympathetic older brother to offer a shoulder to cry on. He was fucking done sitting on his ass and crying about it. There was nothing he could do to change it.

He had begged Tikki and Plagg. Gotten down on his fucking knees and begged them. He would never force them- no, Marinette would never forgive him if he forced her beloved Kwamii to act against their will. But it had hurt that they weren’t willing to save her.

He had accused them of all sorts, that they didn’t actually care about her. That they had never loved her. At one point he had even pointed his gun at Plagg before he had destroyed it. He had broken down again in that moment, curing fetal on the floor as he wept for his love to come back. The kwamii had joined him, sharing his grief. But still, ultimately, swore off letting him make the wish. The had told him there was no magic in the world that could bring her back. He had replied she was all the magic in his world.

Now he was travelling, looking for someone, for something, that could bring her back. He wouldn’t believe the Kwamii until he had exhausted every option available to him. Except the pits. He refused to use the pits; to owe Talia something. He would never taint Marinette like that anyway. She was all things good and beautiful and pure in his life, he would never make her like him.

Hearing his phone start ringing again for the umpteenth time, he picked it up and answered.

“What the fuck is so important? Huh?” he answered, face twisting in a rage that was aimed at himself for his actions both last night and this morning. “Six missed calls, Dick. Didn’t you get the memo? I didn't want to fucking talk to you when I rejected the first fucking one!”

The silence that greeted him down the line had his stomach twist in guilt. He knew Dick was only worried for him. Heck even the Demon Spawn had shown worry for him and treated him like fucking glass. It was one of the reasons he had to get the fuck out of the manor. But even then, he couldn’t return to his and Maris' apartment. She was everywhere, in the fabric swatches on the table to the post it notes on the fridge. Their bedding smelled like her and her perfume lingered in the air. It repulsed him.

Everything about the place repulsed him. It was a home made for two. One set of his and another set of hers. Other things that were theirs. Except there was no theirs anymore. It had taken one look in her office room, to the zipped up garment bag he knew held her wedding dress for him to grab his bikes keys and get the fuck out of dodge. At the time he’d simply not wanted to be in that apartment. Ten minutes later he was on the road out of Gotham and no plans of returning any time soon.

“Jay-” he could practically hear his brother trying to figure out what to say to him, could easily imagine his shoulders would be hunched and tense as he deliberated. It was something he did when planning his next move in the field. Mentally he snorted. Did that equate him with a battle or an enemy? Either sounded right to him to be fair.

“Are you going to tell me where you are today?”

“I couldn’t tell you even if I felt like it.”

“Jay please.” he could hear the frustration in the acrobats voice, but he couldn’t really give a damn. “Come home.”

“Home, Dick?” he questioned, licking his chapped lips and picking up his bikes keys. He didn’t give a shit if he was over the limit. Death would reunite him with Marinette, and if he made it to his destination the liquor would help with that too. “I have no home anymore. She was home.”

“Then tell me where you are, Little wing! Please!” he closed his eyes shut tightly, gritting his teeth together. He hated that his family was hurting. But he couldn’t give up. He had to find a way to bring her back.

There had to be some magic somewhere that would give her back to him. He’d seen it happen for everyone else, so why couldn’t it happen for him? For them? Why couldn’t they have this one piece of happiness? Just this once?

“I can’t do that, Dick. You’ll try and stop me, bring me back to Gotham.” He paused as he opened his eyes and swung his leg over the bike. “I won't stop looking for a way to bring her back to me until I know I’ve exhausted all possibilities. Because I owe her that much. And if I die trying, well I owe her that too.” he told him, smirking sardonically.

“That’s not true, Jay! Marinette wouldn’t ever want you to do this. Please, Jason, this is killing you.” Dick begged him down the phone. “Come home. We can still search from here, but please, come back, be with your family.”

Putting his keys into the bike and revving the engine he grinned dryly. “Sorry, Dickie bird. Not today.” he hung up then, turning the phone off and pocketing it. Kicking up the bike stand he took off, he was sure he remembered the nearest booze shop was only 5 minutes away, and even that was five minutes too long.

The conversation had flared up the pain in his chest and it needed numbing again. Sweet oblivion here he came.

#Maribat #mgi civil war #maribat fic #jasonette

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Underland: Izzy

CW: Panic attack, child of recovering adult whumpee, anger as trauma response, referenced noncon kissing and touching (nonsexual), childhood bullying, referenced past domestic and child abuse, some gendered and ableist insults (kid to kid and nothing too intense - just fair warning)

Izzy, at nine years old, has been free with her family for almost five years now, and her mother has been in prison on a life sentence for two. With attention, affection, and therapy, she has blossomed into a quiet kid who nearly always has her nose in a book.

When two classmates try to put her in the center of a storm, Izzy finds something inside herself that she has pushed down for so long she had nearly forgotten she ever had it.

Izzy finds her father’s anger.

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

Izzy sits at her desk, perfectly still, reading a book while the teacher’s out of the room speaking with another teacher in low voices, just in the hallway. The sun shines in the windows that line the wall, lighting the pages of her book, and one of Izzy’s hands rubs repeatedly over the seam down the side of her uniform skirt, the only movement she makes beyond her eyes.

Around her, the others are whispering, passing notes and giggling (except for Noah, who has his own book open, and Jack, who is drawing his story about giant killer robots in a notebook, and Sarah, Jack’s twin sister who is trying to build a tower of pencils and paper), but Izzy barely notices them.

When the teacher comes back in, Izzy will not be whispering, or giggling, or doing anything that might bother her. When the teacher comes back, Izzy will be quiet, and good, and put her book back into her desk and look up with her hands in her lap. She’s the quietest kid in class, she heard the teacher say so.

At home, she’s not always quiet anymore, but at school she still holds a balance, protecting herself and keeping herself safe in the best and truest way she knows - by simply being exactly what the adults need her to be, and keeping all her real feelings and thoughts inside her head.

Still, while the teacher’s out of the room, she takes a few minutes to read while she has the chance. Her heart beats cold and heavy in her chest as she scans over the words on the page, biting down on her lower lip, worrying at a bit of chapped skin. Her left hand settles over the soft texture of pages nearly yellowed with time spent in the school library being held by hundreds of small hands. The fingers on her right hand feel over the seam of her skirt, right along the outside of her leg, again and again.

Fierce anxiety, and a little fear, swirl inside her for the characters that exist only in ink and her imagination.

Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation—the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

“I think I like Karissa,” Henry Fitzgerald, who sits at her left, says to his best friend Kevin Magden - not to be confused with Kevin Michaelson, and didn’t the teacher sigh over that sometimes. He has to speak over and around Izzy’s head.

“Like, like like her?” Kevin Magden asks, sounding half-horrified, half-fascinated. Izzy fights not to roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on her book, on the entrance of the Queen, on the Prince freed but faced with great danger.

The Queen of the Underland, the lady who held the Prince in the dark for ten whole years, that’s older than Izzy even is. Coming into the room to find the children and the Prince, and her having no control any longer.

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

“Run,” Izzy whispers, to the children, to Puddleglum the strange marsh creature, to the freed Prince. “Don’t talk to her, just run. Don’t listen to whatever she says, don’t.”

“What are you even saying, Izzy?” Kevin Magden says.

“She’s all in her book like always,” Henry Fitzgerald says, shrugging. He makes some sort of gesture - Izzy doesn’t look up to see it - and the two of them laugh. She doesn’t care about that. The story is far, far more important than they are anyway. “Anyway, Kev, I like-... yeah, I think I like like her. I’m gonna tell her at break.”

“Gross,” Kevin says, but he sounds fascinated. “What if she says she doesn’t like-like you back?”

Henry shrugs again - Izzy can see the movement from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Maybe kiss her.”

“Gross,” Kevin repeats, much more emphatically.

Izzy tries to keep her mind on the page, but shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking of the Queen of the Underland, standing in the doorway. She imagines her with very white skin and dark, long fingernails, wearing a long dress that brushes the earthen floor, making a soft swish-swish sound as she walks. In her mind, the Queen of the Underland has very bright blue eyes and lots of curly, dark brown hair that is threaded with silver down her back, wild and uncontrolled, like it can reach out and grab you and drag you into the dark with her.

She feels like the Queen is not a stranger to her, and not hard to picture at all. Try as she might, she can’t make the Queen in her imagination look like the description of the Queen in the book. She only ever looks one way - beautiful and wicked, deceptively soft, eyes brilliant and shining too bright when the Prince is in pain.

Will she hurt him, while the children have to stand and watch and can’t save him at all?

"Leave us," she said to the two Earthmen. "And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death." The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

"How now, my lord Prince," she said. "Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety?"

Izzy can hear the Queen’s voice, musical lilt, simpering sweet and dangerous. Why are you leaving me? How dare you. Come back here, Jax, you can’t leave, you’re mine.

Kevin and Henry are still talking, but Izzy doesn’t hear them any longer. She’s lost in the panic rising inside of her. Run, she thinks, in a scream, a shout in her mind. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand it’s just a book, but that she is still scared, frightened for the prince whose father had grown older while he was gone, whose family must have missed him so much. She is frightened for the children who do not understand the witch or how to fight her. She’s frightened even for Puddleglum, who only wants to help, to do the right thing. Don’t talk to her, don’t give her the chance, just run. She’ll make you hers again. She swallows - it feels like her heart beats itself right up into her throat, like she is swallowing around it - and keeps reading.

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

“I’ll kiss her even if she doesn’t like me back, anyway.”

Izzy’s breath catches, and she blinks, feeling like she has been pulled out of a spell herself. She looks up, glancing sidelong at Henry, who isn’t looking at her at all, just talking to Kevin. “Hen-... Henry-... what did you say?”

“None of your business,” Henry replies, voice harsh and loud enough to get some of the others to look over at them, and Izzy’s shoulders creep up towards her chin, face burning red. She hates when everyone looks at her, hates it more than anything. Henry looks back at Kevin. “At break, I will. I’ll tell her, and I’ll kiss her, whether she wants to or not.”

Izzy looks back down, but the words on the page run together, she can’t see them any longer, they’re just squiggles, meaningless little lines. What I want just matters more, whispers a nightmare she can never quite feel woken up from. She tries, she really does, to focus again on the book but she sees secondly, she took out a musical instrument-

Izzy slams the little paperback shut, sticks it back in her desk, and says in a thin voice, “You can’t do that if someone doesn’t want you to, it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Izzy, geez.” Kevin on her other side speaks up now, and between them she feels like she’s being battered, tossed on a sea, shoved down, locked in the dark. Izzy stares down at her desk, then, letting her eyes lose focus on the wavy colors in the polished wood. Light brown, almost auburn, and darker brown, almost a chocolate color, very like the hair on Izzy’s own head, clipped short and spiky.

Very very like the wavy, thick curls that ran down her mother’s back, that smothered Izzy in the smell of her shampoo and perfume.

“It is a big deal,” Izzy whispers. “It’s wrong, to make someone kiss you. It’s wrong. It-... it hurts them. It matters what they want, too.”

“Ugh. It's just a kiss. You’re bonkers, you know that?" Henry leans over, almost in her space, and Izzy sits back as far as she can until she presses her back hard into her chair, enough to hurt. “Absolutely mad.”

“No, I’m not,” Izzy mumbles, but panic twists even worse inside her. Is she? Her mom is. Isn’t she? Don’t you have to be, to be evil? Dr. Marty says no, that those two things are totally separate and people are just bad at understanding that people can be really, really, really bad and still be sane - that bad people almost always are - and Dr. Marty knows everything about crazy and not-crazy, that’s his whole job, and she’s not like her mother anyway, she’s not.

“Are so,” Henry taunts, falling easily into the familiar cadence of mockery, and Izzy’s face burns brighter and hotter as the room begins to fall quiet, other conversations falling away as the others realize there might be some entertainment now. Her breath comes faster, and she closes her hands into fists at her side, fighting to control the way the fear and a new rise of anger start to twist around inside her stomach, making it flip, making her feel sick. “You’re bonkers for sure, Izzy Gallagher.”

“I-I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not! It’s not right to kiss people who you don’t know if they want to or not! It’s not!”

The room feels suddenly too small, and too big - she can’t escape Henry’s bean-breath and she can’t run far enough to get to the door, she can’t run at all. Some small voice inside her demands she stay still, shut her mouth, never talk again. She should have just finished her book, seen how the Prince would escape the Queen of the Underland, seen if the children help him or just weigh him down, one more bit of stone tying him to Underland and maybe he wishes he could just leave them behind, if they bother him, if they’re no good-

“Ewwwww, who would want to kiss Izzy?” A girl near her wrinkles her nose - Lindsey Smith, Izzy’s brain supplies, in an airless dizzy spin of details that aren’t important but she can’t stop circling around. “She looks like a boy.”

“Hey, back off.” Izzy, surprised, glances over her shoulder to find Noah Hawkins looking up from his own book, eyes narrowed. “Izzy’s hair is cool, and it’s cooler than yours anyway, Lindsey-kins. You just wish you looked as good as she does.”

“Shut up! You just say that because you’re a boy, of course you think boy hair looks cool.” Lindsey sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in front of herself. She has big poofy hair like Izzy’s would be if she didn’t have her dad cut it so short, held back with a clip. Hers is red, though.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah says from over by the window. “As boy or girl hair, I mean. There’s no such thing. It’s all just hair. Izzy’s hair does look cool. You all should leave it alone, Mrs. Brent is going to be back inside any second and we’ll all get in trouble if there’s fighting.”

“Yeah, Izzy,” Henry hisses at her, leaning in close. Too close. She forgets how to breathe. “Stop causing trouble, Izzy.”

“I’m not,” Izzy whispers. Her face feels like it might light on fire. Her fingernails dig into her palms, until she feels flashes of pain, creating crescents that could take hours to fully fade if she did it hard enough. “I was-... I was just-”

“Just butting in where you don’t belong,” Henry finishes for her. “It’s not your business.”

“It’s-... but, but I just-” Her voice is fading fast, airy and breathless, barely a whisper. Quiet little Izzy Gallagher, who never stands up for herself, who lets everyone talk to her like this, who never says a word she isn’t asked to say. Her fear batters her with wings inside her chest, but beneath it is something else entirely, trying to rise up and take over her mind and mouth. Anger. She and Dr. Marty had talked about it, about how it was a normal feeling to feel, but every swell of it within her was met by the rising tide of fear in response.

She never lets herself be angry. That would make her like her mother, who was angry so much, and she’s not like that, she’s not.

She doesn’t think, in the moment, that her mother isn’t the only parent who knows how to be angry.

The thoughts are not conscious. They aren’t driven by any kind of logic, they loop and swirl around each other. They flash bright like light in the back of her mind. She thinks about the story, the book inside her desk, the way the Prince fell upon the silver chair, how he swung his sword in dim light.

She thinks about the prince walking out the hotel doors with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his hip, a backpack heavy against his back, into the sunlight outside. She can remember the way he breathed quick and shallow against her hair, the racing of his heart as he asked her to be very quiet, and very brave. She didn’t know he was scared, he didn’t say it, he was just the Prince, shining in the sunlight, asking for directions to the train station and going in a suit to court later and the silver gave way before the sword’s edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left of the chair.

“But-but-but-but, I just-” Henry is still going, and Izzy’s eyes burn as hot as her face, lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace like a snarl. “Just shut up, Izzy Gallagher, nobody cares what you think.”

“Don’t be a dick, I care,” Noah says, from the back of the room, his voice getting louder, now. Other students whoop and go ooooh, Noah likes Izzy, but Noah ignores them, and he doesn’t turn even a little bit red. “Izzy hasn’t done anything wrong to you.” She barely knows Noah, he’s in her class but they don’t talk or anything. This is the first time he’s done more than help her with a math problem, this is the first time she’s heard him even talk in class without the teacher calling on him.

But it feels good to have somebody else stand up for her.

“She’s butting in!” Henry protests, hands up like he’s the innocent one. “Kevin and I were just talking-”

“About kissing Karissa Bellweather!” Izzy half-shouts. “From the other class! You were talking about kissing someone even if she doesn’t want to! You said you would even if she said no! That’s not right!”

“Ew,” Someone says, Izzy doesn’t know who. Her blood is rushing in her ears almost too loud to hear. “Do you like-like Karissa Bellweather, Henry?”

“No! I don’t!” Henry looks stricken. He hadn’t expected her to just say it out loud like that to everybody. “Gallagher’s lying! She’s a liar!”

“I’m not! I’m not a fucking liar!” Her voice is too loud and she claps her hands over her mouth. Don’t cry, she thinks to herself, and her own thought-voice twists into her mother’s sharper edges. Her palms ache and she wonders if her nails have broken skin, but the wonder is faint, and faded. She feels a hand pressed against the back of her neck, the Queen of the Underland’s voice beside her ear. Don’t cry, Bella. You’re so ugly when you cry. Jax, get her out of my sight.

“Fuck off,” Izzy says, voice trembling. She isn’t really talking to Henry, not anymore. “Leave-... leave me alone.”

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, huh? Gonna throw some punches?” Kevin is too close on the other side, now. They’re both too close. Izzy’s heart beats all out of time, and when she goes to breathe, it… it doesn’t work. Her breath is stuck in her throat, halfway down. The air just… sits there, and she can’t hitch it in or exhale it. It feels like her throat is closing up, she’ll choke on nothing, black out and fall down. “Bonkers Izzy Gallagher, gonna fight us, are you?”

“I-I could-” Her voice is a whimper, and Izzy closes her eyes.

“Could not,” Henry mocks, from his side of her. “You’re weak as a puppy. What are you gonna do?”

“Stop-... stop you from talking anymore,” Izzy says, and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, getting to her feet. She should tell Dr. Marty about the book, she thinks, about the Queen of the Underland. She should tell her father about the Prince tied to the chair, and how he chopped the chair to bits, and she should tell them all about it, nice and safe and quiet at home, and not do what she’s afraid she’s going to do instead.

“How, gonna use something you learned from your mam in prison?” Henry asks, and Izzy remembers, all at once, how to breathe - but it’s all poison. She gulps in air, fear sparking up, her nerves feel like a hundred thousand tiny lightning strikes. She wants to run but she’s at school and there isn’t anywhere to go.

“Wh-what?”

“My dad says your mam’s famous in the States for being in prison,” Henry says, leaping on this new tactic as the blood drains from Izzy’s face. He’s like animals on the nature shows that James likes to watch at home with their snack, circling a calf all alone. She’s a wounded baby calf, she’s weighing the herd down, she’s not strong or brave enough, she never was. “Did she teach you how to prison-fight? Ooooh, did she show you how to make a-” He jabs at the air, fist closed empty around an imaginary knife. “A prison-blade?”

“Shiv,” Kevin supplies helpfully.

“Right, that. Did your mam show you how to shank someone?”

“I don’t-... I don’t talk to my mom,” Izzy says, half-strangled by her own words. Her head is spinning. Her backpack is so far away. “We don’t-... we don’t have contact-... she doesn’t talk to me, isn’t allowed-”

“Oh, ew.” Henry sits back, and his face lights up with the simple cruelty of wounding someone who looks unable to fight back, of regaining his own stability and distracting everyone from his embarrassment by bringing up Izzy’s shame instead. “Are you so awful even your mam doesn’t want to talk to you?”

No. She doesn’t. Izzy’s lip trembles. She can’t bring herself to try and respond. She doesn’t, she doesn’t want to know anything about me at all. The last thing my mom ever said to me was yelling at me not to look so scared all the time and Dad said she never asked about me when he talked to her during the trial she never asked she never-

“Hey, Henry,” Someone says. “This is super gross stuff to say, isn’t it?” Izzy can’t see anything but Henry’s face, everything else is white noise and his words ringing through her, settling too deeply inside, meeting her own thoughts that match them, sometimes, on hard days. She never asked about me, she doesn’t even care that I hate her. Your mam is supposed to care if you hate her. You’re so awful your mom doesn’t even care about you. Your mam is supposed to-

“Yeah, Henry. That’s too far, that’s really mean.”

“She can’t help who her mam is, Hen.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she went to the mam shop and picked a rubbish one.”

“My dad was away for a while, Iz, I get it. My mam says it doesn’t say anything about us. People make bad choices is all.”

“I haven’t even seen my dad since I was five, Izzy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Izzy, don’t be sad, Henry’s just being awful.”

“Hey, she was awful first!”

“Go run up a pole, Henry. I like you, Izzy,” Sarah says, from the window, and moves in her direction. “Henry’s being a jerk, don’t listen to him. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

“I like you, too, you’re fun at break, you always have good ideas for games.” That’s Amira, using that certain kind of tone you use when you are trying to comfort an upset person, and Izzy feels some of the ice closing around her heart starting to warm up, to melt, to crack apart.

Even Lindsey says, almost grudging, “Don’t be sad because of Henry, Izzy. He’s really mean sometimes.”

“I think you’re really cool,” Noah says, in a quieter voice. “Please don’t be sad. Want to play monsters at break?”

They don’t all hate her, they don’t. Someone puts a hand at her back, and she flinches, and they pull the hand away, but they don’t hate her for pulling away, they don’t hate her voice or her hair and they don’t hate her for speaking up, they don’t.

Henry hasn’t given up, not yet. “Your mam’s in prison for being a shit to your dad, isn’t she?”

Izzy doesn’t look at him, leaning down to pull the book out of her desk, trying to think. She can pull her backpack out and go the nurse, say she’s feeling sick, and maybe her dad will come get her and take her home. They can call Dr. Marty and she can tell him what happened and Dr. Marty will know what to tell her and her dad to work on for the next time. She can tell him that there were good things, too, like that Noah said he thinks she’s cool, and Amira likes her game ideas, and not everybody hates her because she has the wrong mom, and it’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be okay.

“Henry, stop it,” She says, in a half-whisper. “Please stop.”

She can go to the nurse. Say she’s sick, it’s not a lie, her stomach is all twisted up in knots. It’ll be true, she’s not going to feel better. She has sweat on her forehead drying cold, making her shiver a little. It’s not a lie, being scared makes her sick, it’s a real sick, it’s not a lie. She gets sick a lot from being scared, Dr. Marty says it’s normal for kids who have anxiety, she has exercises to do, she can picture all her hurting thoughts and move them away, and…

“That’s what my dad said.” Henry’s voice cuts in. “He said your mam’s a piece of fucking work and probably made your dad one, too-”

“Don’t talk about my dad!” She rounds on him, then, book clutched to her chest. “Don’t you dare, you don’t-... you don’t have any right! You don’t know what happened, you don’t know us, you don’t know anything! My dad is better than yours ever could be! And, and stronger, and braver, too!”

Izzy Gallagher, quiet as a mouse, teacher’s pet from sheer terrified inaction, who always sits still and listens carefully and takes direction so well and is just an absolute pleasure to have in class, Mr. Gallagher, an absolute pleasure, is shouting and doesn’t realize it until the words have left her mouth.

She should stop, some part of her brain begs her to stop, but the anger is suddenly larger than the fear and she is a little girl with a sword. Where they came from, and what she and her father and her little brother have survived, is a silver chair she will hack to bits until all that’s left shines like jewelry when held up to the light.

Henry’s eyes widen, they are big saucers, and they are very bright and very blue.

“My dad is amazing.” She can’t stop shouting. She’s not even trying to stop any longer. “He lived through really bad stuff and he still got us away from it! Even though it would have been easier to go by himself and leave us, he didn’t, and my mom is evil, and I’m not, because you don’t have to be what your mom is and I’m not ever going to be like that, but you are evil, Henry Fitzgerald, and you don’t even have an excuse! You’re-... you’re mean for no reason, and I hope Karissa spits in your face and kicks you between your legs as hard as she fucking can! You are an asshole, Henry Fitzgerald, and you can go fuck yourself all the way home!”

“Isabella Gallagher!” Mrs. Brent’s voice is shocked, and the words die in Izzy’s throat, as she slowly turns to see the teacher standing in the doorway, staring at her like she’d grown three heads and all of them have fangs.

Izzy feels like she has fangs, too. And claws, like she is a monster herself. She should be scared, or sad, or ashamed of herself, but all she feels is anger burning bright and hot and good in her veins, louder than fear. Angry feels safer than scared. She feels proud of herself, a feeling so unfamiliar it seems like it must be someone else’s. Sarah, close to her now, whispers, go Izzy, in a soft impressed voice, and Izzy feels her eyes burn again, more than before, but for a different reason.

They don’t hate her, and Henry isn’t saying bad things about her dad any longer, because of her. They don’t hate her.

“You might be even cooler now,” Amira says, and the teacher shushes all of them and points Izzy out, telling her to go see the Head Teacher. Any other Izzy would slink out with her shoulders hunched, full of fear, but this Izzy feels the buzz of standing up for herself running through her and warming all the cold, chasing the heavy hand on her neck away. This Izzy walks with her chin up and her shoulders back.

Some of the warm feeling goes away when the Head Teacher calls her dad to come get her, and says in her stern hard voice that Izzy was yelling and cursing at another student. The Head Teacher doesn’t say that she had a reason, and makes it sound like Izzy just stood up and started cursing for no reason at all. That’s… that’s not fair. Grown-ups always do that, make it seem like kids just go off for no reason, and Izzy can’t hear what her dad says back to the Head Teacher, but a lot of the warm feeling goes away, then. Her heart feels cold and scared again.

What if he’s mad at her?

What if she can’t be sorry enough to fix it?

Izzy sits in a hard wooden chair that is shaped all wrong for kids and makes her legs hurt after a while, waiting for him to come get her with a racing heart, her book open in her lap.

There’s some brown-y red smeared on the cover, drying. She made her palms bleed when she was scared and didn’t even notice. She’ll ask her dad to buy the school library a new one. She wants to keep this one for herself.

"I have come," said a deep voice behind them. They turned and saw the Lion himself, so bright and real and strong that everything else began at once to look pale and shadowy compared with him. And in less time than it takes to breathe Jill forgot about the dead King of Narnia and remembered only how she had made Eustace fall over the cliff, and how she had helped to muff nearly all the signs, and about all the snappings and quarrellings. And she wanted to say "I'm sorry" but she could not speak. Then the Lion drew them towards him with his eyes, and bent down and touched their pale faces with his tongue, and said:

"Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia."

"Please, Aslan," said Jill, "may we go home now?"

"Yes. I have come to bring you Home," said Aslan.

A flash of gray, worn jeans in her vision brings her slowly into awareness of the world around her, but it’s the voice that breaks her completely from the story’s spell.

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

Izzy looks up to meet her father’s eyes, surprised - she hadn’t even heard him come up. But they’re quiet movers, the Gallaghers - except for Jamie, who never had to learn to move so quiet she couldn’t hear him, who never had to push down all his sounds so deep inside himself he could go whole days without making any at all.

Her dad drops into a crouch in front of her, and his knees crack a little, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it. He looks up at her, from this angle, and he doesn’t look mad.

He almost never looks mad at her.

“I got a call that you were fighting in class.” He looks like he’s trying not to twitch a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And using some pretty creative language.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned to curse,” Izzy says gravely, and there - that was definitely a smile on his face that he has to hide as fast as it shows. She lives for her father’s smile. Still, she closes her book, and folds her hands on top of the stain on the cover so he won’t see it. “I only yelled a little. Henry Fitzgerald was mean to me, and he was going to-... he was going to kiss a girl who didn’t want him to kiss her, even if she didn’t want him to. He said it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not.”

“Ah.” It’s all he says, at first. His face doesn’t show much, now. Her nervous heart starts to beat fast again.

“It’s, that was, um, that was before he got mean. He got mean when I told him that it’s wrong to do that and… I kind of… told everybody in class he was going to.”

Her father’s eyebrows raise, a little. “You did, did you?”

“Yes. Then he said his dad told him my mom’s in prison and that-” She stops herself, closing her hands tightly over the book, before her voice can start to shake again. She takes deep breaths, strong ones, fills her whole lungs up. Her dad waits for her, he always waits for Izzy when she needs him to. “He said, it was just, it was a stupid thing, but it made me really angry.”

Her dad’s face hasn’t changed, but Izzy knows when emotions change in a room, even without anyone’s face moving at all. She can feel that something has shifted inside him, something he’s not showing her. “What did he say?”

“That I must be awful if my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.” She says it flat, like it doesn’t bother her at all to hear it. No big deal, it’s normal to have a mother who hates you for stealing your father even though it didn’t happen that way. “Then he said mean stuff about you, and… I was already upset, so… I kind of went off on him. I’m sorry you got called and had to come get me.”

“But you’re not sorry you did it,” He says, and it’s not a question.

She presses her lips tightly together, and shakes her head. “I’m… I’m not. He needed to be yelled at. I’m not sorry, Dad. I mean, I am sorry that you have to do anything, but, I’m not-... sorry for calling him all those names and I will put my money from my birthday in the swear jar if you want, I’ll skip tea for a week and put all my chocolates in there, but I still won’t be sorry for yelling when he was mean about you.”

He huffs a sound like quiet laughter and offers her his hands. “Izzy… I don’t care what a year three kid - or his dad - says about me. But clearly it was important to you. Let me go in there and talk to the Head Teacher about it, and we’ll talk out what happens next on our way home. Okay?”

No anger, or threatening punishments, no mention of discipline ever leaves his slightly smiling lips. Izzy is never taught through making her afraid, not anymore. But he waits, seriously, for her to acknowledge what he’s said.

“Okay, Dad. We’ll talk about what I need to do. And-... can we call Dr. Marty when we get home? I-... want to talk to Dr. Marty about what happened.”

He looks surprised, but not unhappy about it, and nods. “Yeah, kiddo. Good plan. I’ll be back out in just a bit.” When he turns to walk into the Head Teacher’s office, she thinks that even with everything, he looks very like a grown-up prince, and the rings in his ears look like shredded silver.

She lifts a hand to touch the shell of her own ear, on her left side.

Izzy opens her book, to the murmur of their voices as they talk about her. She decides to finish it later, and instead she flips back to read again the bit where the prince takes his sword to the chair that kept him under the spell and tells the evil Queen of Underland that he isn’t hers any longer.

He will go home, to his family, to be freed of her entirely, even if she still shows up in bad dreams… bad dreams are the only place she can come to, now. He’ll wake up and someone will tell him that she’s gone and she can’t come back, and it will be true. They’ll tell him, again and again, until he believes it.

Izzy will tell her dad, until he believes it.

Jax will tell her, until she believes it, too.

But first…

"Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Izzy whispers with a smile on her face and the thrill of forbidden words up her spine. She isn’t talking to Henry Fitzgerald this time, either. She never really was. “And I’m not sorry you’re not Queen anymore at all.”

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years

Text

pretty eyes.

you love diego hargreeves pretty eyes, sober and drunk off your rocker. only, when its the latter, it’s a little harder to hold back your eager compliments.

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WARNINGS & DETAILS: gender!neutral reader. mention of alcohol & drinking, some fighting later on in the chapter (it’ll make sense when it comes), idiots being idiots, mutual pining, a tad bit of angst. WORD COUNT: 6.5k NOTES: at the end (read please).

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“DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKY’S BLUE?”

Diego didn’t look back, but from the sounds of tiny pants and dull clunks of shoes hitting the ground, he knew enough to paint a picture. You, struggling to rid yourself of the coat he forced you to put on, dropping the heels you claimed you hated so vehemently, all the while probably grinning from ear to ear like he imagined little kids looked on Christmas Day. He knew you’d be waiting for his answer, just as you always did, expecting something greater than he could give you in his own flustered state.

Sometimes you were predictable. But he liked that about you.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No, silly! I’m asking you!”

“Oh.” His tongue danced across his bottom lip, wetting the chapped skin before responding. “I dunno. Sorry.”

Only a sparkling laugh and a thump answered him. He whirled around to see you flat on your butt on the ground, staring up at him with drooping doe eyes. It would be an irresistibly pretty sight, if he knew it wasn’t from extreme inebriation and you were completely off your rocker at the moment.

Still, pretty.

“Help me up?” You laughed, waving your hands aimlessly towards him. “Puh-lease?”

Diego grimaced slightly but moved anyways. He grabbed at your hands (clammy, another symptom of your heavy drinking choices) and yanked you towards him. Only he overestimated you and greatly underestimated his own strength it seemed -- instead of lifting to your feet like any normal person, you practically flew towards him, landing just under his chin and flopping against his chest.

And Diego froze.

Normally he would have pulled away and shrugged it off as a mistake. Neither of you would mention it again and would move on with your lives, forgetting how close your bodies had been and the way your gaze was intoxicating upon itself. He had rules for those things; never getting too close to a friend who made his heart beat in a rather unfriendly way was one of them.

But as you looked up at him, still smiling dopily and eyes almost crossed, he couldn’t remember a single thing about rules or precautions or anything of the sort. All that was on Diego’s mind, was you.

Your smile softened a tad, painted lips closing over your teeth and only hinting at the dimples he had stared at many-a-time before. Up close, he could see flecks of black under your eyes, staining flushed skin with ebony freckles that no one could believe was natural. He didn’t know the word for it, but guessed it was from you rubbing at your eyes and forgetting you had painted them hours before. Despite it, you still looked absolutely radiant.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Diego blinked, startled by your giggled statement. “W-what?”

“Sooo pretty,” you gushed. One of your hands left his chest -- he hadn’t even realised they had been pressed there, but he suddenly missed the warm sensation -- and caressed his cheek. He shuddered at the touch. “Maybe the pre...prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

If merely standing near you was heart-attack inducing, Diego was certain that all this was going to explode the vessel. Any second at that point, it would just burst and coat your grinning face with its guts--

-- he shook his head, ridding himself of both that image and the foolish thoughts flooding around it. You were drunk. Everyone said and did stupid stuff when they were drunk. Right? Like the time he lost a fight with a lamp post -- he wouldn’t do that sober, but alcohol made everyone a fool. You just chose compliments over actions, maybe.

The saying ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ lingered in his mind for half a second, but he pushed it away. That only worked in late night television or shitty rom-coms, not reality. Not with them.

“You should get to bed,” Diego said gruffly, pulling away from your fingers. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on your face, but tried to push it away for his own emotions’ sake. “You’re gonna want to, ‘fore all this hits.”

“You should smile more.”

Diego froze. He didn’t turn back to her that time, knowing it would only hurt him more, but he couldn’t bring himself to move another inch.

“Your eyes are fu...cking beautiful, but your smile?” Clapping echoed paces behind him; his jaw clenched with every smack. “Diego, you’re so pretty!”

He reached behind him blindly, scrambling and feeling stupid before finally launching onto you. Still avoiding your charming smile, he pulled you along, leading you out and into your bedroom. “I’ll be back to get you some Advil. Sit down.”

“I wish you’d smile more,” you said, completely ignoring every word he said. You fell down to your bed with a plop. “It lights up those pretty pretty, pretty eyes so much...so fucking pretty, Diego! I can’t even think of any other words, that’s how be-yew-tiful you are.”

“Okay, I--”

“-- and you always look so grumpy. It’s so funny!”

Diego should have been long gone, at that point. For his own sake and for yours, because you would hate that you rambled on so much, and he was going to pay for the emotional turmoil you were putting him through. But he couldn’t. He simply stood, still and awkward in your bedroom doorway, watching as you tried to twist your face to look like his own.

It didn’t work at all. Your lips fought angrily to smile again, and your eyelids just drooped, so far you looked stoned, or maybe like a zombie ready to bite. But even if you looked beyond ridiculous, his mind still screamed at how adorable it was, and despite himself, Diego smiled.

“See! See, there - there it is!” You pointed frantically at his own face, like he didn’t know it was there. “God, I wish I had a mirror to show you how pretty you are! Lil...lil sunshine boy!”

Okay, ‘sunshine boy’ was new. It took a little bit of the piss out of everything, and he was able to grumble and walk away finally from your singing self. Calls of his name paired with nonsensical titles followed. Diego tried his best to ignore them, but he knew the coos would haunt him later. Even as he searched for a glass, the sounds bounced through his head like injured bats in a cave; no way out and too blind to escape, forced to flit around endlessly until someone ended their suffering.

But Diego, unfortunately, did not know how to do that. So he simply bore the weight of your compliments knowing that they were nothing but sounds and syllables made up by a confused mind, trying to push through the night with as little baggage as possible.

As he walked back to your room, he sighed. This wasn’t how he planned things to go. It had been a good night -- sure, he might not have had as much fun as you looked like you were having, dancing and drinking and laughing, but at least he was with you. And he liked that, and the lax nature you took on when you drank, making him feel less pressure about constantly being the best version of himself. He hadn’t felt like he needed to put on a show, he was just Diego, for better or for worse. And somehow, you didn’t mind that.

He only wished that he could have more than that and all the time.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat after the word came out garbled. “Uh - got you this, you’re gonna want to drink it and take these now. Okay? And I’m putting these here for tomorrow morning, so you can take that as soon as you’re up. You got that?”

Your head bobbed up and down excitedly, but he knew you didn’t take in a word he said. So as you swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, he scribbled out a note to remind you of what definitely went right over your head.

Diego paused, pen slightly trembling in his hand, before jotting down two more sentences. Thanks for last night. Had a good time being with you, as always. He hesitated, hovering over the slip of paper before cursing and scribbling out the lines with added violence. He tried again, being a little bit more poetic (which wasn’t much, but words really were not his thing) only to be disappointed again, pushing down on the pen so hard he was sure it would burst. Once he was sure nothing but scribbles could be made of the mess, he put the note under the Advil bottle and stepped away.

“You wanna change out of that?” He asked, gesturing to your clothes. “Doubt that’s comfortable.”

“Nah,” you drawled. You smiled up at him and even dared to wink (it was more of a sloppy, half-assed blink, but it still made his head swim). “I’m just comfortable. Do...you…’re you comfortable?”

Diego chose not to answer that. He pushed you back gently, deciding not to fight with you on changing and instead just going with sleep. You didn’t fight him much. If anything you leaned into it, holding onto his hands for seconds longer than you should and mumbling sweet nonsense up at him.

“You know,” you sang, “you know what, Di...Diego?”

He didn’t pause. “What?”

“I would do anything...and everything...in order to make you smile forever. You know? Anything.”

Those were the words that weighed heaviest on Diego’s conscience as he drove back to his place. It was as though they had erased everything else, anything that had happened that day or any time before and just left that in its place. He didn’t know why, but they stuck, and as he wove through the dimly lit streets, your voice floated about like a bodiless apparition, set to destroy his mind and drive him mad.

Diego had had his heart broken several times before. It happened almost easily in his childhood, normally by the hands of his vindictive father. He had learned how to patch it up, sew up the cracks and try to make it so it wouldn’t happen again, and eventually he got better at that. But it shattered again when Ben died, and he realised that they were just kids, forced to play heroes in a horrifically gruesome world they didn’t belong in. That took a while to mend, but he did, until he screwed up at the police academy and Patch left him too. After that he had let the fragments just sit in piles in his chest, digging at his ribs and leaving him winded after long nights in the cold darkness. He hadn’t cared; he thought that was what was expected of him. Nothing but a broken heart to hold him when the nightmares got too bad.

But when you came along, he didn’t have to stitch himself back together. You did it for him. Somehow without him noticing you had snuck into his chest and unravelled the poor stitchwork and blotted out the stains left that he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Over time, you had managed to make it almost brand new again, and it was a whole new experience of smiling and watching as you failed to finish your joke again, only because you were already laughing too hard. Of getting wasted on Wednesday’s when your job sucked more and dancing down the streets up to your apartment, uncaring of those who watched. Of you chiding him for the cuts and bruises collected from his vigilante expeditions, but always being there to wash them out and make a fresh pot of tea. Of you, merely existing, and allowing him to bask in your sunshine a while longer.

But hearing those soft words leave your drunken lips, spilling out like tar from someone so angelic, hurt. Diego didn’t think that was possible with you.

He sighed, turning down the street towards the gym. It would be a sleepless night again.

YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING CONFUSED AND ACHING.

Not as much as you normally would be, which was a nice change of pace -- you assumed you had enough common sense to take premature headache meds, knowing how bad the hangover got for them. But your drunken self did not have the thought of changing out of your stiff, uncomfortable going-out clothes, instead draping yourself across the mattress smelling like the shitty bar you had careened in and leaving every part of your body pissed off. Sweaty fabric clung to your skin, leaving you feeling soggy and misworn and eagerly wishing you could have made better choices earlier.

You groaned and slipped out of the comforter, already missing its heavy warmth. Slowly you staggered over to your desk where you must have left the Advil for that morning. “Thank you, past me,” you sighed, twisting open the cap with a grimace.

A paper caught your eye, small amongst the stacks of work files you had yet to comb through. Downing one pill, you grabbed it, taking in the scribbled letters through tired, squinting eyes.

Leaving this for you because you’re too drunk to remember what I said. Take these and drink water before you die of a hangover. I’d hate to find your body that way. Also left your things on your kitchen counter, they’re not stolen. Also left your burrito in your microwave -- you insisted on buying one last night, so don’t forget about it. Take care.

Underneath were two lines of thick black scribbles, covering up whatever was written under that and leaving only a scrawled ‘Diego’ as your final clue. But, despite whatever mystery the pen covered up, you smiled and pinned the note to your bulletin board.

“Thanks, bud,” you grinned, speaking like he was there to hear. “Hope I wasn’t too annoying last night.”

You went about your morning with a smile despite the pounding pulverising your muscles, and enjoying the lazy Sunday hours spent cleaning up. You even spoiled yourself with a long shower, eating up your hot water minutes with joy, knowing you’d hate yourself for it two weeks later. After an hour of cleaning up, washing your face free of the makeup smudged across your cheeks and devouring that burrito left for you, you finally felt refreshed and better about things.

You glanced up at the time. Diego would be up, probably manning the desk for Al as he did most Sunday’s (the facet of his job he hated most). But, at least that meant he would be available to take your call. You missed him, even after seeing him just the night before, and selfishly craved the distraction of his low rasp. Maybe you could even make him laugh, cheer him up during his boring shift.

But five minutes later, you were left disappointed when none of the three calls went through. You tried not to think too hard on it -- he was a busy guy, and was either working or doing his other line of work, and ignoring your call meant nothing. Course, it probably didn’t look good for a boxing gym, but...you’d settle.

You would just call back later. He would definitely be available to talk then.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU LAST TALKED TO DIEGO, which was the longest either of you had gone without even speaking to one another in the history of your friendship.

On its own, the fact wasn’t so troubling. You were both working adults who had their own lives to sort through, jobs and bills and other friends that you didn’t like half as much as each other, grocery shopping and patrolling the streets alike, filling up both schedules easily. But the two of you were closer than that, and definitely more than just friends that saw each other every other week. You didn’t care about those friends like you cared about Diego.

And it hurt, that he was going to such lengths to avoid you.

Every time you stopped by his gym, Diego was gone. Al simply shrugged off your questions with a non-committal ‘I don’t keep track of the shithead’ and even when you went to knock on his door to check if he was lying, you got nothing. No regulars knew either, which was strange; he always liked to spend his afternoons training with a couple people, sometimes you if you showed up at the right time. You considered doing just that and waiting for him to show -- but even after hours of sparring, the man was nowhere to be seen.

You had tried everything, to the point where Al was annoyed and you felt like you were losing your mind. Surely Diego hadn’t just disappeared off the face of the earth. That didn’t seem right or possible and you knew you hadn’t made him up, because you had the pictures and notes to prove it. You could see his face, disgruntled and sometimes smiling in the photos you had snapped of him -- so why couldn’t you find it anywhere else?

With all options exhausted, you gave up for a few days, allowing yourself the chance to catch your breath. However, with that came the exhaustive process of trying to figure out why on earth Diego was avoiding you. And unfortunately, all that linked back to your last night spent together, and the bitter realisation that you must have fucked up the night somehow and left him not wanting to see you again.

And that thought broke you.

Thursday night was spent crying alone on your couch, trying to push past the depressing thoughts and failing miserably. You couldn’t remember half of what you did that night, but you knew he hadn’t been drinking as much as you, and alcohol always rendered you a ranting, rambling fool that he must have had to deal with. He had got you home, but for what? And what if it was all in that stupid note he had left you, scribbling out the real reason he was leaving you high and dry?

You threw the note out that night, staring down at it in the trash with tears pooling in your eyes. If only you could know why.

The issue was, Diego was more than just a friend to you. Sure your relationship had been built on totally platonic foundations, but it soon blossomed into so much more. He was a companion, your partner, the man who made you feel comfortable enough to wheeze into laughter-induced tears with, or just sob against his shoulder without feeling judged. He was the guy who brought you fast food when you forgot about dinner when work ran late, and the one who let you sleep over when you didn’t want to be alone. He made you smile by just being there -- like, you would open your door (or window, usually) and just grin like an idiot at the mere sight of his face. He was just Diego, but that meant more to you than you had ever been able to say.

Maybe, hell, you loved him. Was that so bad? It hadn’t been intentional to fall -- one day you had just been eating pizza on your countertop way too late in the night, and you looked over and realised your heart had only ever fluttered so violently for him. That he was the guy you could imagine spending the rest of your days with and never getting bored. Of course, you didn’t act on it, knowing that it was a platonic relationship and admitting such would destroy it completely -- but that didn’t mean your official break-up didn’t hurt any less.

You skipped work Friday, something you never did.

When your coworkers called, you wrote it off as illness related, while still drowning in the sorrow of being left high and dry.

Friends hit you up to make some ‘end of the week’ plans, but you ignored them.

You fell asleep at nine that night -- the earliest you had in aeons.

You stayed in bed for most of Saturday, staring at the ceiling or the photos pinned to your walls of the two of you, wondering if this was all just a weird dream you were going to wake up from.

Six hours later, you hadn’t woken up from your dream, but you had made up your mind.

One hour after that, at almost ten o’clock at night, you were rolling up to that same boxing gym you had haunted for that week, dressed in dark activewear and parked a ways away from the actual space. Steely-eyed and with your jaw clenched, you marched out the vehicle and into the building, knowing full well what you were going to find. You had a plan, and whatever it took, you were going to put it into motion.

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest plan, and maybe you had only just come up with it, with barely any time to consider it’s workability and whether or not you were just throwing words together, but nevertheless, you persisted.

You were going to get Diego back.

“DIEGO FUCKING HARGREEVES,”

The man, back turned away, stiffened and immediately went to move,

“run and I will end you, boy,” you growled, stomping towards him with force; he could practically feel each stomp echoing in his chest, cracking him down to the size of a pea. Somehow, he couldn’t move, frozen in place by your command. “Okay?!”

“H-hey, I--”

“--why the hell have you been avoiding me?!”

His eyes were wide and panicked and frantically, he searched all around for a way out. Unfortunately, your body in front of him blocked his only exit, leaving him stammering for answers you knew he didn’t easily have. “Look, I--”

“--I have been worried and scared and sad and out of my mind this entire week,” you snapped, jabbing a finger into his tank top, pushing him back in his steps. Your anger dug deep into him, thorns grabbing onto every bit of vulnerable flesh -- and the worst part was, you were absolutely right. “You know that? I have called everywhere I could -- I even called the police, wondering if you were in custody and I just missed that news drop. But no, you were just gone, avoiding me for who knows what reason!”

“I didn’t--”

“--what did I do, Diego? What happened, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

“Then why won’t you even look me in the eyes?” you hissed back, staring up at him in hopes he would catch your gaze. But he didn’t; his eyes still looked far away from yours, searching for something to give him a way out with. “You won’t even look at me, that’s how pissed off you are at me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get if I did something wrong, but you can’t just pull away from me like that -- this friendship isn’t built on shit like that. I can’t cope with this void left by you deciding you don’t like me anymore!”

“That’s not what happened,” he insisted, his own voice raising in volume. “I swear!”

“Then what, Diego? What possible reason could you have that isn’t related to me doing something wrong? Because that’s all the evidence I got out of this and unlike you, I have zero detective skills so I’m working on one freakin’ theory here!”

His eyes averted to the ground, staring down at the both of your feet, one pair tapping angrily and the other shuffling in hopes of escape. He felt himself folding in, a habit he had broken a long time ago with you, one he thought he had killed off forever. But apparently it hadn’t.

“You can’t even answer me,” you shuddered. Your sneakers squeaked against the shiny linoleum, leading you back a step. “You - I don’t understand this. At all. And you can’t even give me an answer why? D-don’t I deserve a reason for why I hurt you, Diego?”

“No, c’mon. I…” he hesitated once more as expected. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his mouth and thickened his tongue, leaving him once again stumbling for an excuse. He felt your eyes on him as well as his father, reproachfully clicking his tongue at once again, his stuttering, bumbling fool of a son. “I did...I didn’t…”

“Forget it. Screw this.”

“W-wait, don’t leave--”

“--I’m not leaving!”

He froze, holding onto your bicep in an attempt to stop you. Slowly, his hand fell away, “w-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, and slowly he watched as a devilish smile stained your cheeks, pulling away the angry lines of before. “I didn’t come here to leave, I came here for answers. And I guess I just have to fight you for ‘em.”

At that point, Diego’s head had been through the wringer so much, he felt like it could just pop off if he wasn’t careful. And yet still, his eyes bugged out and he stared at you in complete shock, unsure just how he was supposed to process that last sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing at all, “c’mon. I know you’re better with the physical stuff and I wanna catch you off guard, finally get an answer out of you. I’m gonna, like, fight you for the truth.”

He watched as you toed off your shoes and shrugged off your thin jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with little care. You seemed ready, like you had planned this all along -- and had you? What was the reason behind all this? Was there something that he just wasn’t getting, in his state of emotional disarray? Or were you just losing your mind because of him?

“L-look, I’m s-sorry, but I,” he paused, trying to form the syllables in his mouth so they weren’t so thick and jumbled. “I can’t just fight you.”

“Sure you can. We spar all the time.”

“But w-w-why?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted and fell; ever the nonchalant dramatic. “Call it a bet. I win, you tell me why you avoided me for so long. And if you win, which you probably won’t but if you do…” you grimaced. “I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

Diego baulked. “I don’t want that.”

“Clearly you do,” you jabbed back. “Right?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

You huffed; clearly you didn’t believe him, but you also seemed set on the idea that you were definitely going to win, so he wasn’t sure where he stood in that. “Fine, pick your prize and keep it to yourself. I don’t care.”

Diego still hesitated, hovering to the side as you wrapped your hands. There seemed no way out of the situation, but surely there had to be - surely you weren’t just going to hop into the ring for an explanation.

Was this some ill-fated revenge?

You must have noticed his expression, because he heard you laughing from a whiles away. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Diego. Trust me, no matter what you do, I’d never want to do that.”

His heart fluttered.

“It’s just,” you cocked your head, thinking over your words before smiling again, “like you said when you first started training me. Freestyle, baby.”

You had deepened your voice tremendously to mock his own -- and while it was a horrible impression, it did call back to the one you did before of him. Not that you seemed to remember that, you had been piss drunk, but the thought still made him cringe.

All this, because of him. He screwed it all up and for what?

“Rules are the same as always. First person to pin the other down for more than five beats wins. No serious hits, so like, don’t break my nose or anything.”

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, even as he stepped into the ring. “We don’t need to do this. We can just talk.”

You sighed and looked back at him. There was a fierceness in your eyes, a determination for something he wasn’t quite sure of -- like there was a plan in motion, only he couldn’t figure out where the steps lead. “I didn’t come here to walk away, Diego. I’m here to win a bet and get my friend back, and also kick his ass if I have to because I’m desperate. You can’t convince me to leave, so wrap your hands and let’s get this going!”

“But-”

“-it’s either this or I just stare at you until you crack,” you said, no longer smiling. “And I doubt you want that typ’a torture, do you?”

He stared at you askance. “Really?”

You didn’t answer him with words that time.

The fight was fast, and almost evenly matched -- you had a slight advantage with your eye on your prize, and he was faltering with every other blow knowing he couldn’t bear to hurt you. But the pace picked up and soon it was like you were one fluid being, predators locked on and desperate to claw the other away from them while simultaneously, drawing them back in. Fists flew and every so often he saw the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes, catching on everything he turned from and leaving him surrounded by the flames you spilled.

For a moment, Diego thought he had it. He had managed to pivot away from your last onslaught and pulled you away from the centre, edging into the corner where he could finally pin you down. His arms outstretched and for a moment he was actually smiling because it felt like the good old days -- sparring way too late into the night when he should have been working with the girl he secretly loved and the stars watching from way above, admiring the gruesomely pretty sight.

But in a flash, everything switched.

He lunged, you slid.

When he fumbled, your legs wrapped around his own, pulling him back and flipping over one another like beetles rolling in the hot sun.

You were everywhere, smothering his smoke with your body, forcing him down before he even realised what was happening.

Diego blinked, and suddenly you were on top of him, legs on either side of his waist and your hands holding his own up above his head. Your expression edged on feral as you grinned down at him, straddling him and fighting everything he pushed back with.

But he couldn’t fight back. Not when you were on him and everywhere and he could smell your shampoo as your hand dangled around him, dripping your scent around him like he was in that poppy field from Wizard of Oz, ready to give into the toxin and be one with the flowers. Your hands held his own and he wished he could slide his fingers into the clasp, holding them to him and kiss each bruised knuckle with tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your hips, legs, chest pressed against his own, both heaving and waiting for the other to move and interrupt the tension rising with every passing second.

“One,” you began, voice low and teasing. Did you know what you did to him? “Two…”

Diego writhed in your hold, but it was no use. You had him. He was yours and he would be satisfied to be so for the rest of your days, if only you never let him go. His gaze flitted across your face, tracing the way your eyebrows furrowed and relaxed with the numbers, eyes still wide and filled with emotions he didn’t quite know how to read. Sweat beaded on your brow and stained your cheeks and yet still, he thought you were as perfect as you could be, mere inches from his own darting eyes.

“Four...four and a half…” your smile grew and you got a little closer, almost touching his face with your own. “Five…”

He didn’t dare to breathe.

“I win, Hargreeves.”

But despite the hushed declaration, you did not move. Your body stayed over his, hands pushing his own down with gentle force but keeping him locked under you. Your eyes remained on his own, locking them in place as your face grew nearer. Soon enough your nose was just touching his own, nudging softly and turning so it fit better against his lips, which were parted and so close to pressing against your own-

-but you pulled away.

Just as Diego’s eyes had shut, your weight left his and he was left to sit up confused and watch you stomp away. You slipped out of the ring and down to the ground with a soft thump. He watched you unwrap your knuckles and to his surprise, he saw your hands shake with the movement.

“This was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “This was stupid, I have to-”

“-don’t go,” he mumbled. In one swift movement Diego had jumped back to his feet and pulled after you. You stumbled back a few paces; he raced after, hurrying to your side with an aggression he didn’t know he possessed. “Don’t go.”

“Diego, I-”

“-I pushed you away because I screwed up,” he said, all in one breath and so fast he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. “I messed this up. We’re only supposed to be friends, I know that, but I-I can’t not be in love with you, not when you’re that perfect and so beautiful and you make me smile e-even when I feel like the shittiest sh-sh-shit and-”

“-kiss me.”

“What?”

You stepped forward, angling yourself just under his chin. Your chest heaved. “Kiss me, asshole.”

And slowly his hands moved on their own accord, cupping your cheeks and holding you to him. His eyes darted down once, staring at the pink lips before reaching your own again for a silent affirmation. When you nodded in his hands he acted, pulling you to him quickly and pressing his lips against his own, finally.

It was fast and passionate, both beings pulling at the other, urging the other closer than the skin they already pressed against. His one hand left your jaw to hold your neck, angling your face so he could better caress it, smudging himself across your lips with little care. He felt your own touch against his back, sliding down to his hips and pulling -- without even thinking, he moaned, feeling your lower body roll up against him and leave his mind in overdrive.

You pulled away for air finally, gasping only to be pulled in again for a softer, gentler kiss. He pecked the corners of your mouth before finally taking your lower in between his teeth, biting softly before sucking on the tender swollen skin. He pulled away then, dropping his forehead to your own as you both took another breath.

“If…” you paused to inhale, grinning through the gasp of oxygen, “if I knew you were holding all that back, Diego, I would have kissed your ass a lot sooner.”

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured. He felt your hands leave his waist, pulling up to the one he still had cradled against your cheek. Your head leaned into the gentle touch. Even as your fingers held his. “I just...is this why you stopped talking to me?”

Diego shook his head softly against your own. Once more his heart faltered and threatened to burst, but he ignored it. “No, I just...I realised that I was-”

“-sorry, I don’t - you have an eyelash.” He froze as your fingers stroked his cheek, pulling away the evidence that had caught your attention. Your eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he watched as they widened and brightened under his perplexed gaze. “Your eyes really are pretty.”

His heart stopped for a beat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s why I stopped!” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you then, gesticulating wildly around like the air was going to supply you with answers. “That’s why!”

You frowned, cocking your head like a lost puppy. “You...because of your pretty eyes?!”

“What? Wait, no, that’s not why.”

“I’m so confused right now, bud, and I just--”

“--last week,” he rushed, cutting you off before he could lose momentum again. “I took you home. You were wasted, and you kept talking and - and you told me I had pretty eyes.”

Still, you looked bewildered.

“I-I have been obsessed with you since the day I met you,” he said, soft and unsure if any of the words would come out right. Or if they themselves were the right ones to say. “I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t let myself act on it because I knew that it wouldn’t wo-wo-work out, you’d get mad and I’d lose you. I rathered having you as a friend, then losing you cause I was in love with you.”

“Love?” you questioned, barely a breath of a sound lingering between them.

“But that night, you went on and on and I realised then that I was too gone to keep it in. And I realised that you wouldn’t feel the same...and I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left. And…”

“Diego Hargreeves, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

His brow furrowed low, anger mingling with befuddlement on his flushed skin. “Hey, I-”

“-first of all, you really think I would just hate you because you thought of me as more than a friend?! Even if I didn’t like you - which I do, by the way - I wouldn’t do that, I value you too much. But second of all, you’re telling me that you never noticed how much I liked you back?!”

“I-”

“-I have felt like an idiot for the past year, holding in my feelings for you and wishing you could feel the same way. And when you left, I thought - I thought that was it, and that I screwed things up when I was drunk, which I guess I did but-”

“-you didn’t screw anything up, I did!”

“No you didn’t, I did! I’m the drunken initiator!”

“I shouldn’t have just left!”

“Okay, so we both screwed up!” you shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. “But dammit, Diego, I have loved you for ages, and you - we - this is what it came to?!”

“Well, I-”

“-I can’t believe this!” you chortled. “All this time?!”

“I guess so,” he said, voice catching on the ‘so’. “I guess, yeah.”

“Holy crap.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“I love you,” you giggled, breathless and still flushed, messy and beautiful in the shitty gym lighting. “I love you, Diego Hargreeves.”

His heart didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. Diego instead felt the slight twinge as the organ settled in his chest, content and buzzing with the panted cry. The breaklines of before didn’t feel so harsh, mended by your shiny eyes and swollen lips that he wanted to stare at until the end of his days. For once, his heart actually felt whole.

“I love you too,” Diego mumbled, smiling like a little kid. The muscles in his face, rusted over with age and disuse, groaned at the extreme grin but he kept it on anyways, smiling down at you with the strangest feeling of happiness coursing through his body. “A lot.”

And you beamed. “Have I ever told you, your eyes look like, a thousand times prettier when you smile?”

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ALCOHOL BASED IDIOTS TO LOVERS FICS?? Have I any other creative thoughts?? Does this make me seem like that’s all I think about?? These are the thoughts that now run through my mind as I rush to post this...and truthfully, I don’t have an answer. I swear I’m a little more creative! I just...have a hankering for these things. Oops.

I wrote this weirdly super super fast and it’s super nonsensical, especially the middle bits? But I weirdly like it. I’m not sure. The plot is a ~little~ wonky but I’m rolling with it!

I’m open to make more stuff on here, I’ve gotten quite bad at it but I like writing these things as practice pieces. So, if you want to read more, requests are open and you can find a list of prompts (if you want them) in my masterlist. I’m putting out an updated list later on in the month, but I also am just open to have any sorts of requests. xx

(also as always - if you enjoyed and you want more, follow, reblog, and consider buying me a kofi! linked in my bio bc tumblr doesn’t like direct links on posts, please check it out if you’re feeling generous because I’m recently unemployed and any bit helps. but sharing this post and showing others the work is appreciated a great deal and i love you if you do!)

#diego hargreeves x reader #mine #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

chap 4 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Meng Yao faces his past and his future

Meng Yao screams upon seeing the face of those two intruders, and nearly stabs himself in the cheek with his tiny knife as he brings up his hands to cover his mouth.

He knows these men.

They killed him, once.

The one in blue chopped off his arm.

That one in red destroyed his reputation, exposed the darker sides of him for all to see, leaving him no choice but to die.

And Lan Xichen, of course, dealt the fatal blow.

Three men in this desolate house with him. Three murderers. Or is it really three? After all, none of this would have happened without…

Meng Yao, who refuses to fall to his knees like Lan Xichen out of sheer pride, sobs. He doesn’t know when, exactly, he started crying. But his face is now wet with tears and snot under his hands and his breath fogs up the blade of his knife. He hasn’t cried like this since his mother died.

In every life he’s lived, she has died too early.

A curse bound to repeat itself, a punishment for everything Meng Yao ended up doing after she died in that first life, and the second, and the third, and…

Somewhere a thousand miles away, heavy footsteps climb up stairs two, three at a times, rushed and loud as they never are usually. Meng Yao can’t see through his tears, but he still knows it must be mister Shanzi. A suspicion confirmed when a moment later his employer speaks up, breathless from running up those stairs.

He never was an athletic man, mister Shanzi, not if he could avoid it.

“Don’t hurt him!” Mister Shanzi cries out, trying to run again, only to settle for stumbling along until he’s in front of Meng Yao.

It’s a surprise, and it’s not. Either way, it startles Meng Yao out of his tears. He blinks a few times, until his vision clears. Mister Shanzi is there, shielding him from the other three, arms spread wide as if to better protect him. Meng Yao can’t see his face, but he can imagine the fierce, determined expression on his employer’s face.

His fourth murderer, and yet now Meng Yao feels less scared at last.

The newcomers aren’t impressed with mister Shanzi. The man in white and blue, kneeling next to Lan Xichen, glares up at mister Shanzi. Meng Yao feels he should know his name. He knew it, once, but they haven’t met in many lifetimes.

“You didn’t say,” the man says coldly, eyes darting toward Lan Xichen, still prostrated on the floor, as if he’s remembering as much as Meng Yao does, and enjoys it as little. “You know how much I’ve tried to find…”

“I’ll buy you lunch, Wangji,” mister Shanzi cuts him. “Deal with your brother, I’m taking care of Meng Yao.”

Lan Wangji frowns at this answer.

That’s his name, Meng Yao recalls. Lan Wangji, the one who goes where the chaos is. And the other, then, is Wei Wuxian. Two parts of a whole. Meng Yao thinks he hated them, once. Even before they destroyed him, he hated them for their freedom, for their right to be careless, when he had to measure his every word, his every action. Or perhaps it is just that a part of him always knew they would kill him.

As Meng Yao tries to remember which came first between hatred and murder, he feels mister Shanzi reach for his hands. The knife is taken from him and put away on the nearest surface, which ought to scare him. He knows, though, that no weapon he might yield could protect him, should mister Shanzi have it in mind to murder him again. Meng Yao has never once been successful in defending himself against him.

With this certainty in mind, Meng Yao doesn’t resist as mister Shanzi pulls him away, back to the basement. This, too, reassures him. Mister Shanzi loves his paintings more than anything in the world, more than scamming powerful assholes and overconfident idiots. If he had to kill Meng Yao, mister Shanzi wouldn't do it somewhere that would taint his precious art.

Once they reach the workshop, mister Shanzi gently brings Meng Yao inside and invites him to take the chair while he closes the door, locking it behind them. This too should scare Meng Yao. It doesn’t.

“How are you feeling?” mister Shanzi asks, coming closer but stopping at few steps away from Meng Yao. Giving him space, so he can feel safe. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember dying because of you,” Meng Yao says, falling onto the chair which rolls away from his employer.

Mister Shanzi is unphased, his face showing only polite interest, the way he does when meeting sellers and buyers. With him dressed like this, the neutral expression feels wrong. Funny, almost. Meng Yao would laugh, if he remembered how.

“You killed me several times,” Meng Yao says. It should make him angry. When he looked at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, he felt unfathomable rage over what they did to him even if he doesn’t understand what, exactly, it is that they did. They only killed him once, though. But mister Shanzi, who he can remember towering over him, holding a blade wet with his blood… “You also saved me, didn’t you?”

Mister Shanzi smiles, if you can call it that.

“I had to find a new way of dealing with you,” he casually admits. “After the first few times, killing you wasn’t as fun anymore.”

“I was a child the last time you killed me,” Meng Yao protests, and maybe there is some anger to be felt over that. He was just a child that one time.

A toddler really, playing in the street with other kids, Meng Yao suddenly remembers. His mother hadn’t quite died yet in that life, but her health had been declining, so he’d been left to his own devices too often. Someone had offered him sweets and he’d been too young to know he should refuse.

He hadn't even gotten those candies before getting his throat slit.

“It was a low point for me,” mister Shanzi admits with a shiver. “At that time, I was... You see, you had killed my brother in the first life in which we met, and in a truly horrible manner too,” he explains, and Meng Yao nods. It rings a bell. A corpse butchered, a melody... “and since he had never reincarnated, I didn’t see why you should get to. I’d always found you as an adult before that, and it was easy to find some failings of yours to excuse killing you. A child though…” He grimaces in disgust, looks down as his hands as if they're still stained with the warm blood of a three years old. “After that, I started reconsidering the way I was doing things. My brother had believed you were worth giving several chances, once, so I thought I’d honour his memory and do the same.”

“I suppose I should be grateful?” Meng Yao asks. “Just as I was supposed to be grateful toward Mingjue.”

Hearing his brother’s name makes mister Shanzi jump. But he’s not mister Shanzi, Meng Yao realises. That was never his true name.

“You’re Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, mostly to himself. “You’re… after so long, and you’re still doing all this for him. I’d murdered the wrong brother, back then.”

Realising what he just said, Meng Yao tenses and throws Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, terrified that he might lash out at the reminder of that crime which has entangled their fates through centuries.

Nie Huaisang turns away, curling up on himself, shoulders shaking. Meng Yao braces himself for an attack, verbal or physical, but instead after a moment Nie Huaisang bursts out laughing, loud and unrestrained.

“Every time!” Nie Huaisang giggles. “Every damn time, you end up saying that! And every time I say that…”

“Da-ge would have been just as fierce in avenging you, so there was no right brother to kill, no right brother to spare,” Meng Yao finishes in a whisper. “I’m not saying that I want to kill you now,” he quickly adds. “I don’t. Not after what I owe you.”

Of course in that very first life, he owed Nie Mingjue, and that hadn’t stopped him. Meng Yao can feel the reek of the terror he’d felt then, stuck between a rock and a hard place, certain he didn’t have a choice. Perhaps he didn’t. Those were different times, and he had promised his mother to be a good son so his father would give him the status he deserved. So she hadn't suffered in vain when raising him.

Meng Yao had tried to be a good son, which had turned him into a poor friend. Not to Nie Mingjue exactly. They weren’t friends anymore by then. But to Lan Xichen, who had suffered first the loss of Nie Mingjue, and then years later the horror of having helped it happen.

And then Lan Xichen had killed him.

Maybe he hadn't been a very good friend either.

“I’m really sorry for this,” Nie Huaisang says. “You’ve always remembered, whenever I’ve taken you in, but it’s never been quite so fast and brutally. And it’s the first time that…”

He trails off, looking over his shoulder toward the door with a mix of dread and longing.

“Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao guesses.

“Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang agrees, before chuckling sadly. “Did you… does he… did he know before coming here, or…”

Meng Yao thinks on it, and shakes his head. He might be deluding himself, but he doesn’t believe Lan Xichen knew, not until they arrived to the Hanshi, not until he saw Nie Huaisang, not until he was confronted by his own brother. It took both of them by surprise.

Meng Yao wants to ask about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, but doesn’t. It’s not necessary, he realises. Having been in their presence, he can guess that they are more like Nie Huaisang than like him or Lan Xichen. There is just something about those people who no longer die that sets them apart from ordinary humans, even at first glance.

“He was just here about the painting,” Meng Yao explains. “He’s writing a book on… well, on you, I guess.”

The expression on Nie Huaisang’s face is a complicated one, equal part regret and relief.

“Wangji had been looking for him,” he says. “Quite desperately. Well, he found him now, good for him. As for myself, I don’t think I should… well. Well. It doesn’t matter. Lan Xichen made it clear once how he thinks of me, and I know better than to impose myself where I am unwanted. I’ll just disappear for a while, make sure we don’t run into each other. The antics scene was getting a little bothersome anyway. Damn technology, ruining my life. I’ll have to find something else to keep me busy. I guess I’ll have to leave this house, too.”

As he speaks of abandoning the Hanshi, Nie Huaisang looks truly sad. Almost in spite of himself he raises a hand to touch the nearest wall, brushing his fingertips against it as one would a lover.

He's owned this house most of his life, he once told Meng Yao. At the time, Meng Yao had thought his employer had bought it young, or inherited it somehow, meaning he’d lived there for maybe twenty years.

He wonders how long “most of his life” really means.

“Am I fired?” Meng Yao asks instead. A more practical question, and one to which he’s more likely to get an answer.

“Fired?”

“I… I betrayed you. I took someone here without your knowledge.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, then laughs softly and comes to kneel before the chair, taking Meng Yao's hand. His skin his warm, his touch grounding, and Meng Yao, stupidly, wants him to never let go.

“Oh, A-Yao,” Ni Huaisang sighs, squeezing his hand. “Neither of us would ever know how to refuse Lan Xichen anything that he asks. How could I blame you for this? No, you’re not fired.”

Meng Yao lets out a deep exhale.

“I still can’t keep you around anymore,” Nie Huaisang adds, tilting his head slightly. It makes him look like a curious bird. He’d like the comparison, Meng Yao thinks in a panicked effort to not delve on what his former employer just said.

“I won’t betray you again,” he promises, grasping Nie Huaisang's hand tightly, as if that could keep him here.

“If Lan Xichen asks, you will. I don’t think he’ll ask, mind you,” Nie Huaisang says with a smile. “I haven’t seen him since that first life we all shared, and we didn’t part on good terms. You wouldn’t know, you were dead already, but I… well. He did not take kindly to being used as my weapon to kill you, to put it mildly. And now you’re in love with him again, in a world where… well, it’s easier to love him these days, isn’t it?”

“I’m not in love,” Meng Yao says, but the protest sounds hollow as it leaves his lips.

If he’s not in love with Lan Xichen, he’s more than halfway there already. Why else would he have betrayed Nie Huaisang, whom he does love, in spite of how stupid it is? Even without realising exactly what 'mister Shanzi' was, Meng Yao could tell there was something off about the man, something unnatural and dangerous. He's an idiot, though, and loved him all the more for it.

“I’m not in love just with him,” Meng Yao corrects, which startles Nie Huaisang. Good. Meng Yao isn’t quite as cruel as he was in that first life or some of the following ones, but he wouldn’t call himself kind either. If he must suffer, why shouldn’t others do too? “Take me with you. Wherever you’re going, take me with you.”

“No.”

“Do you really think Lan Xichen would still have anything to do with me, now that he remembers?” Meng Yao insists, rising from the chair. Nie Huaisang lets go of his hand and stands up as well, takes a few steps back as if putting distance between them will do anything. “It’s pointless to leave me behind. Take me with you.”

“No. You’re mortal,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… I’m not doing that. I’m not involving myself with a mortal. I’ve seen what it does to people like me. I won’t… I can’t allow anything to destroy me like that. Not until I’ve found da-ge again, not until I’ve seen him safe and happy.”

Meng Yao nods, because he understands, because he’d give everything for a chance to see his mother again, would sacrifice anything just to make sure she’s happy. And still, he says again: “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“You’ll need an assistant. You need one. You're useless on your own. You suck at keeping track of appointments, and you still haven’t figured out social media, and… just that, just your assistant.”

“No.”

“I can keep things compartmentalised.”

“I can’t,” Nie Huaisang snaps. “I… I would have let you go soon, anyway,” he adds, more quietly, as if confessing a terrible secret. “You are… I got attached, more than planned. You’re good, in this life. I think the world is finally changing enough to allow you to exist and you’re… but it doesn’t matter. I was always going to let you go, it’s just happening sooner than I’d planned.”

“So I am fired.”

Nie Huaisang grimaces. For a moment, just a second, he looks exactly as old as he is. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, so deep and ancient it is almost frightening to behold. Centuries after centuries of looking for the same person, of never finding him, of meeting instead his brother's murderer over and over and over again.

“You’re not fired,” Nie Huaisang tiredly insist. “I’m going to continue paying you until you find another job, and I’ll make sure the right people know you’re on the market again, if you want to stay in that line of work. I also don’t mind paying for any school you like. I’ll write you letters of recommendation, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re good even without me, but… but after today you won’t see me again. I just can’t risk it.”

“And if you found your brother again,” Meng Yao suggests, because unlike Nie Huaisang he’s good with new technology. If Nie Mingjue is alive somewhere, he can find him. He will find him. It can’t be a coincidence that Lan Xichen and him met like that, so maybe…

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and shakes his head.

“I’ll never stop looking for him. But I don’t think he’s coming back. I think the damage to his soul was too great, and it was just the end for him. I’ve got to keep looking, but I think there’s nothing to find. So I won’t make promises to you, Meng Yao. I’ll have that decency, at least.”

It’s funny, Meng Yao thinks, how little Nie Huaisang has changed since that first life.

By which he means, Nie Huaisang is still the same dramatic asshole as he used to be, still so wrapped in his own problems that he doesn’t really care about the effect his decisions have on others, because he’s a Nie so of course he’s always right.

It used to drive Meng Yao grazy, in that first life, when he thought all Nie Huaisang had going for him was a good inheritance and a pretty face.

It still drives him crazy right now, when he knows Nie Huaisang is perfectly capable of being more than this, should he feel like it.

Before Meng Yao can insist, there is a knock on the door. They both startle, having half forgotten there are others with them in that house. Nie Huaisang looks panicked for a moment, but quickly gets himself under control. He probably guesses, as Meng Yao does, that it cannot be Lan Xichen, who surely would never reach out to either of them.

That guess turns out to be right. When Nie Huaisang goes to open the door, he finds Wei Wuxian there, who looks… not quite angry as such, but ready to be pushed there if anyone says the wrong thing.

“You still want us to take you away?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Nie Huaisang nods quickly, than shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“Zewu-Jun can’t… If he's coming too...”

“He needs time to digest, and he says that one…” Wei Wuxian nods toward Meng Yao, who flinches on instinct “...called him a taxi, so he’ll make his own way home. Lots to think about. Did you fucking know, Huaisang?”

“Not until today, and I called you right away. You think I wouldn’t have told you, if I’d known? You think I’d have gone anywhere near him by choice?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, in a manner that seems to imply he doesn’t really know what Nie Huaisang might do about anything.

“What about that one?” Wei Wuxian asks, nodding again toward Meng Yao.

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “He has his car. Wei-xiong, I just want to leave now. Please.”

They do leave. Wei Wuxian glances one last time at Meng Yao, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t look back as he exits the room.

Just like that, Meng Yao finds himself alone, with only paintings and a broken game console for company.

He allows himself a moment of sorrow because, and he can admit this to himself now that it no longer matters, he’d been hoping to spend the rest of his life with either Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang. Both, if fate chose to be kind to him.

Fate has never chosen kindness, when it comes to him.

So Meng Yao dries his tears, and picks up that shattered console on the floor.

The paintings in this room are worthless to him. Over half are fakes, and even Nie Huaisang, who painted them, doesn’t always recognises just from looking what’s real and what’s not. But the console… well, there’s a guy who lives in Meng Yao’s building who’s made a business of buying broken electronics and either repairing them or scavenging them for parts.

Maybe Nie Huaisang really will continue paying him, or maybe he won’t, but Meng Yao hasn’t gotten where he is in life by counting on the kindness of others.

He’ll sell the console when he gets home.

#xisangyao #sangyao #xisang #xiyao #mdzs #counterfeit au #everyone is a mess with a crush oops #jau writes

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