#I mean they were fond of her da to be fair

[youcallyourselfafilmcritic]

It's just my headcanon now that the Doctor just like gets really animatedly excited to see Kate Stewart every time she pops up

The Doctor: IT'S KATE STEWART!!!

Kate: Doctor we....we last saw each other 47 minutes ago

The Doctor: Hey everyone-do you see this?! Kate Stewart in the house!!

[henneseyhoe]

Daddy’s Money.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader.

WARNINGS:lil bit of nasty smut, brief one sided relationship, lewis being pussy whipped, reader is heavily implied to be a gold digger(she is but shhhh! let her rock frl), daddy kink, money making reader hornayyy(me asf), not edited(idc rn i’m sleepy), there MIGHT be plot holes(again, i’m sleepy) and das it i think.

ps. also i’m ngl i wrote this halfway lazily, i just wanted to get back into writing sooo yeah.

✮✮✮✮

The arrangement was really an accident (at first). You were hired to fit and dress the man after practically begging for the job, needing the money to jump start your fashion career since your father had cut you off the month prior. It’d take nearly five years to do so, but with someone as easy going as lewis, time would fly fast.

Eventually he grew fond of you, and you of him..him a bit (a lot) more than you actually. Months after getting hired he began bringing you around for things that wasn’t about his style, things that someone would do for a budding romance. You didn’t mind either, it was working in your favor getting the extra hours to do nothing. You didn’t mean to snag a sugar daddy, a famous one at that, just like you didn’t mean to fuck him before the met gala, damn near making him late. It just…happened; Which is what you’d say to judgy bitches.

You also didn’t mean to point out that midnight black bag (and a few other things) you had been wanting when shopping for him the week after the met. Those things mysteriously showed up on your door step two days later to your surprise. You were beginning to think he was a little generous…so you tested something out.

“Ugh! Wouldn’t this look so good on me?”

You pout as you held the designer dress up to your body. It was originally intended to go to another woman they paired him with for an event, but seeing it up against you instead was all he had to see before he told his assistant to inform the woman she’d be wearing something else. In awe, you proceeded to wear that dress to the event that night, easily gaining eyes from guests and earning yourself a name as Lewis’s “sexy ass stylist” online when the pictures taken of you went viral.

Later on that night the dress was being ripped apart from the back and thrown to the floor by you know exactly who, him doing everything in his power to get to what was underneath.

You couldn’t tell if your pussy was good or if he was just that whipped for you after that night. Either way, you were having fun.

Before you could snap your fingers, whatever you were THINKING of wanting was at your fingertips. He had more money than he could spend, and you had no problem helping him find what to do with it! It was only fair, ya know, for his sake.

The first time you realized he was really wrapped around your little iced out finger was the last time you had wanted for anything for long.

“I could have anything I want? seriously??”

You looked to him in shock, the man shrugging as he debated on a pair of versace shoes. “Have at it, love” He responded simply with a quick endearing smile to you before waving over an assistant to help you. You felt like a kid in a candy store.

^Also the last time you referred to him as anything other than daddy when not in public, (or at least not noticeably to others in public).

He was liquid when you called him that. soft putty in your hands, ready for you to shape him into anything you desired.

“Come on, daddy. Don’t you wanna see your name in diamonds on me? Don’t you wanna mark me? claim me?”

You taunted him in a seductive tone as you rolled your hips onto him. You flipped your hair to one side of your shoulder so you could look back at the work you were putting in, Lewis staring back at you with hearts in his eyes and his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. Both of y’all’s jeans were halfway down with your pretty brown ass perched up for him to see the tip of his long dick teasingly slide between your lips and into your honey coated walls repeatedly. He was right there on the edge, you could feel it and you hadn’t even sat all the way down on him yet.

Really it was either say yes to the chain or be left to make himself cum, he understood that completely. As he nods eagerly in agreement, you plopped your plump self down into his lap and he came as fast as police in white neighborhoods.

By the seventh month of being together your closet was every woman with a fashion sense dream. Designer galore (and not the ugly shit neither). He got you designs that wasn’t on racks yet but straight off a runway, things that fit perfectly to YOUR body. (Seeing that he was getting to know it so well..He could probably draw a map of you with just his damn tongue.)

You began getting way more noticed by his fans and friends, not only for suddenly having a thing for wearing expensive clothes and jewels, but for also being close with Lewis. Dating rumors had started to run amuck. The first plan was to deny, deny, deny but it was hard to do that when you were wearing his name on your neck, hiding the chain under your shirts or wearing it backwards so no one would see the name plate.

But the chain wasn’t what caused the dam to break. It was when you posted bags and gifts with flowers, a card attached that had a heartfelt and flirty handwritten poem on it, forgetting to even scribble out his name. Fans and close friends were on the fence, some of his associates madder than an ant colony in the rain and some fans confused on where the hell you even came from and where you got off on gold digging. The clothes and jewelry were finally starting to make sense and you gave the saying “Look like money” a new meaning.

Lewis was quick to come to your defense in interviews, you had never seen anyone get so nice nasty or petty in your honor. He was witty and quick with comebacks, his polite tone masking rude comments at any interviewer that dared to have an opinion about you that he didn’t like. He made sure as everything went on online and your name trended for the second time that week that you didn’t lack reassurance ever.

“Look in the mirror and let daddy know who’s it is”

He pulls you by your braids up to the direction of the reflecting headboard, your back pressed against his chest as his hips met your ass with a hard smack. After hours of pleasurable “reassurance” there wasn’t a spot inside you that his dick didn’t hit, a place on you that his tongue didn’t lick. The chain you had asked for a bit ago clinked freely against your chest and a fucked out evil smile grew on your face as you look him in the eyes through the mirror. “It’s yours, daddy. you know it’s all yours” You would reply before your walls gushed around his dick.

✮✮✮✮

Fans who prayed on your downfall weren’t so happy when they got the news that you two married two years later in Greece. The wedding was private, but it was no secret that a fortune was spent and that didn’t make the gold digging comments better. (Even though your father paid)

Those comments followed you into your fashion brand era and though you chose to be mysterious about private life and yourself in general, (for obvious reasons) you felt it was only right to defend your honor at least once.

Like the great actress you were, you did what white women around him had been doing to you since the beginning and threw on the waterworks, crying in front of any watchful eye when the rumors were brought up with your amazing husband by your side comforting you immediately. How dare they say such things about THEE Lewis Hamilton’s wife?? THEE Y/N Hamilton???

Your newly grown fan base called it blasphemy. There wasn’t an online blog on beyoncé’s internet that went untouched when having something to say about you. Everything they said was untrue! You had your own money, your own brand, (funded by your husband) and your own name.

“They’re so mean to me”

You pout as Lewis carefully takes off your heels and kisses the top of your feet before standing and caressing your cheek. “You know how the media is, and I know nothing they say about you is true. I’ll have my team take care of it, okay?” He reassured and you smile, mentally noting to suck his dick before bed. As if you were rewarding a dog for jumping through a hoop, being soft and on your side at all times was Lewis’s hoop, and he had better jump through every. single. time.

To be fair, there may have been some superficial motives behind the building of this relationship (on your side at least) but he genuinely did grow on you, and that was before you knew he was a trick, that part just made it deeper.

You were in shock when he asked you to marry him originally, so much so that you refused the first time because it scared you. You avoided him for an entire week and refused to go to work until you realized you had grown so accustomed to being around him that you could barely function. Apart from the fact that you were opening doors by yourself and eating dinner alone, you hadn’t noticed how much you liked talking to him, being with him and simply in his presence.

Materials aside, you loved him, you were in love with him. Infatuated just as much as he was with you by now and you came too long of a way to be scared off.

In reality you telling him no wasn’t gonna stop him from perusing. He knew you were gonna be his wife for a long time now and nothing was gonna get in the way of him finding you (and he kinda duped you with the whole falling for him thing anyway because he knew what half of your motives were and played his role well), you just found him first and made him pop that question again, which that time you happily said yes to.

✮✮✮✮

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Unsealed Skies (4)

Warnings: mentions of family deaths, past infidelity, Thor spoilers, arguments, and insults.

“I’m not very fond of you mortals either.”

The activity in the squad room crashed to a standstill and you rose to your full height, “You are not welcome here Ares.”

“You have forgotten what it means to be a god.  These mortals do not deserve your help.”

Loki gnashed his teeth together, “Whatever my sister chooses to do is no concern of yours, kin killer.”

“You are as hypocritical as my family was.  You sought the destruction of Jotunheim and nearly destroyed the realm thereby plunging the Nine Realms into chaos.”

Loki started forwards but your arm snapped out and pulled him back, “What?” He hissed.  “I am to be judged by this weak excuse for a god?”

You shook your head, “Listen.”

Holding his tongue Loki did as you instructed and then his frown grew deeper, “The company that is approaching is not the pleasant type.  The girl you saved gave an interview.”

“She spoke to the press.”  Olivia confirmed, exiting her office in a rush.

“I’ll head ‘em off.”  John declared, striding out of the squad room.

“Thanks Munch.  That should buy you enough time to flee.”

“Flee?  Olivia, what?  Why?  If this is because I didn’t tell you-”

“It’s not.”  Olivia cut you off, “You did the right thing but with Thor and Loki and New York, the world can’t handle any more gods right now.  When it comes out that the Greek and Norse Gods were going to be connected because you two were to be united in marriage, all hell’s going to break loose.  Our past cases will be reopened and the DA’s office will be inundated with calls that you used your power to force people into admitting guilt.  That’ll be enough for several retrials and for judges to claim reasonable doubt.  Kim will do what she can but we can’t have any more fuel added to the fire.”

“This isn’t fair!  She did the right thing saving that girl.”  Sonny burst out.

“And look how she is treated because of it.”

“No one asked you!  If you hadn’t cheated on her, she wouldn’t have needed to hide for so long!”

“Hours ago, you told me to run to protect someone.  Now I’m telling you to run to protect yourself.” 

“Liv…I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.  Go!”

Loki and Ares reached for you but Ares was closer and quicker.  You were swept into the god’s embrace and the room around you blurred.

[neverhangd]

Headcanon Dump Because I Am Obsessed

Anne’s middle name is Grace. This means different things to her in a few different verses, including

A sense of closeness with her own pirate idol, Gráinne Ní Mháille, anglicized as Grace O’Malley. This really shaped Anne’s early perceptions of herself and piracy, and really shaped her life’s goal as well: she wants her name to go down in history, just like O’Malley.

It came from her father. Her mother had chosen her first name, her father her middle: that had been their agreement on learning Mary was pregnant. Grace was the name of an aunt William had been particularly fond of; Anne the name of a beloved sister-in-law.

In modern verses, her birth certificate was originally filed incorrectly under Grace Anne Cormac, a mistake that I sometimes leave legally unchanged for the fun of it. For example, in spy verses like the kinds I’ve been dreaming up behind the scenes, none of her legal documentation ends up following her into her profession, making her harder to properly trace. Grace Cormac is alive on paper and living on a small farm near a small town in South Carolina. Her shoddy teenaged wedding to James Bonny is the birth of her paper trail as Anne Bonny, with no legally recognized Anne Cormac having existed before that moment either.

Now for some unrelated shenanigans.

Anne wants to get her J tattooed over with an anchor. It’s fair to say both of those J’s weighed her down; maybe symbolizing it can help her drop it, now. Like an anchor to a ship, it’s an important part of her. Also like an anchor to a ship, it doesn’t define her. This is one of about four tattoos Anne’s ever seriously considered in any verse.

In most verses, especially pirate ones, Anne also wants a swallow tattoo as well. Swallows among historic sailors were symbols of the owner having sailed 5000 miles. You can see where earning that would be appealing to someone who feels like they’re only ever alive when at sea.

Anne would also consider getting a constellation tattooed on her right shoulder, to match the anchor. Probably Ursa Major, her preferred way to find the North Star.

For similar reasons, she’s considered a compass as a simplified design for the same motif: the pull of exploration, the surety of the path.

TW for dv and da.

Just before the end of their marriage, James got the idea to brand Anne with his initials. He only managed the J before she knocked him off of her and broke free. Later, when Jack met her, he insisted it was a sign of fate: his name starts with a J, too! Anne was less certain that was a good thing, and it turned out to be a good thing she was.

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

[nekrophoria]

Social Worker:  “Your name is Roland Lynch, born on the 12. of May 1965 in  Omsk ....Is that correct?”

Roland: “Yes.”

Social Worker: “ Did you grow up in Russia, Mr Lynch?”

Roland: “ No...my...my family moved to Ireland when I was quite young.”

Social Worker: “ Mhm...You're not married...no biological children...”

Roland: “ That is correct.”

Social Worker:  “Are you in a relationship?”

Roland: “ No.”

Social Worker: “ Employment status?”

Roland: “ Self employed. I run a pub.”

Social Worker:  “Okay...Maybe you can tell me a little bit about your relationship to Miss Holloway.”

Roland: “ Well I was  friends with her... and her boyfriend at the time. I was around quite often when Melvin was little-”

Social Worker: “ Sorry for chiming in....Miss Holloway’s boyfriend was not Melvin’s biological father, I presume?”

Roland: “ I don't know to be honest. I don't think he was...But it didn't seem to bother him. He was basically Melvin’s Da as far as he was concerned.”

Social Worker:  “Why do you think Miss Holloway didn't appoint him if he was so fond of Melvin?”

Roland: “ They weren't on good terms, had a pretty nasty breakup. He broke contact. Or maybe she did, I don't quite know. I didn't hear much from him after that.”

Social Worker:  “When was that roughly?”

Roland: “ Ufff...must have been a year or so after Melvin was born?”

Social Worker:  “And you haven't seen Melvin since then?”

Roland: “ I saw him once or twice after that, I think the last time when he was two or three...don't quote me on that. But...yeah that was basically it.”

Social Worker:  “Why is that?”

Roland: “ No particular reason. I just...wasn't around as much...i guess...”

Social Worker: “May I ask you, what exactly was the nature of your relationship with Miss Holloway?”

Roland: “We were coworkers. She worked for me for...almost 6 years. She quit shortly after...after the breakup. But we stayed in contact...more or less.”

Social Worker:  “Well she must have trusted you enough to appoint you as Melvin’s sole caretaker.”

Roland: “ I guess so.”

Social Worker:  ...Tell me about Melvin. How has he been fairing?

Roland: “I...I brought his medical report...from the hospital. Sums it up quite well.”

Social Worker:  “Thank you. I'd still like to hear your view on it, if that's alright with you.”

Roland: “ ...I don’t know what to tell you to be honest. He isn't talking. Apparently he can...he just doesn't want to. I don't know.  He understands me, he reacts...sometimes. Barely looks me in the eye. I don't think I've seen him crack a smile once. And I don't really know what to do about that. Everything's pretty...tense. I'm practically a stranger to him...and yeah...”

Social Worker: “Maybe you would like to tell me about your...well let's just call them concerns for now.”

Roland “...”

Social Worker: “Mr Lynch, I'm not trying to persecute you. It's not unusual that families, especially single parents are overchallenged and in need of support. I'm here to offer said support.”

Roland: “...This whole thing it...it just came outta nowhere.

It's...it's a lot to adjust to. I thought I might be able to handle it...at the start but... I'm honestly not sure if I can. I'm no good with kids, even you know...normal kids...fuck, what is normal, you know what I mean...I just...i can't get a bead on that boy. I don't know what the hell to say to him. I don't know what he likes to eat...or what makes him laugh, I don't know shit about him. And I don't know what to do to make him feel better. I've never been good at this kinda stuff. If I would get...you know, some reaction, some sign that I'm not completely fucking this up... I don't know what Marilyn was thinking, I was probably the worst person she could've picked for this.

I have to try at least. I can't fail her.

And I don't want the kid to think I'm giving up on him. First his Ma offs herself and then I throw in the towel, how do you think that's gonna make him feel?”

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[jungshookz]

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy! 

                                        »»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

hm

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-”  “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly 

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand 

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

hm

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!  

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions  

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”  

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

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(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”  

oh

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record… 

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? 

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

[megashadowdragon]

**1.**Punching Gilgamesh the moment you are summoned/enter a fight/enter a room is not reasonable and should not be done at any time -Gudao

1a. Not even when he barges into the Camelot Room and threatens to everyone, especially when he does it to make your female counterpart marry her -Gudao

1b. Apparently PTSD is not a viable excuse to punch someone when you see him harassing someone. Noted.

2. Just because I am a King, does not mean I can give people nicknames. Makes me wonder how Gareth felt about being called Best Boy by Merlin.

3. Eating contests are apparently not allowed, seems food shortages are common with my counterparts.

4. As it turns out, screaming "To Valhalla" is not the best idea when you step onto Iskandar's Chariot. Especially so when you are right in front of the enemy.

5. Frankenstein is not a doll, do not dress her up. No Arthur, not even if she tilts her head and makes cute growls -Gudao 5a. Okay! Only if its a sundress! -Gudao

6. Getting together four of my other counterparts and forming the Saber Rangers is not allowed, especially if we have Excalizords. Seems the other servants aren't fond of needlessly big robots that take too long to combine.

7. Motorbikes are not to be used at any point or time in Chaldea, no, not even when Iskandar decides to hold the "Chaldea Grand Prix" -Da Vinci

7a. THE SAME GOES FOR OTHER VEHICLES YOU MONGRELS, UNLIKE YOU FUCKS, SOME OF US NEED BEAUTY SLEEP AT 3 AM! -Gilgamesh

8. Just because I can use a sword, doesn't mean I am allowed to attack my Cu Chulainn with it. I swear, he walked into it.

9. Apparently I am not allowed to compliment people? Turns out after I left the beach where I hung out with a sweetie named Kiyohime, along with master, Kiyohime attempted to burn someone alive because I said that master looked like a dashing man. I highly doubt she did.

9a. The smell is still stuck to my trunks Arthur -Gudao

10. My liege... My OTHER liege, please don't ever get Red Saber to sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" again when I am about to utilize Galatine -Gawain

11. We know you are fascinated in other cultures, but please. Stop talking to the Servants of France about Sasaki Kojirou, we don't know if you made up his nickname, but he is not the "Savior of France" - Jeanne D'Arc

12. I would suggest that you stop entering the Camelot Room by screaming "Where is my love! Guinevere!", while it as funny once or twice, I can't stand to see either Lancelots' become depressed anymore -Arturia Altria

13. No offense... But please stop patting my head so much, I know you are basically my Uncle, but people are getting the wrong idea -Mashu

14. While Proto League is an acceptable nickname for the servants of your war, please don't ever enter a fight and scream it out again. We know you enjoy it, but it can get obnoxious after a while - Random Mob 1

15. Proving that I am male by either fighting or pantsing myself is no longer allowed after Heracles decided to do the same thing when a recently summoned Shakespeare made him question his own gender -Da Vinci

15a. Having the entire male team to pants themselves in front of the enemy is not a viable tactic against Archers, no matter what you watched beforehand and despite how fun it is -Robinhood

16. Just because Merlin suggested it, I shouldn't instantly do it. Its odd, almost like no one trusts Merlin, he seems just like my one.

17. "I saw a pest" is not a viable reason to drop a Corrupted Grail into the Babylon Room, we understand your dislike towards the King of Heroes, but Ishtar and Ereshkigal were caught up in the rage.

17a. "I was bored" is not a viable excuse to kiss a female servant while under the effects of Merlin's illusionary spell, Gudao has yet to leave his... specially enduced Coma.

17b. "I saw this scene-" is not a viable reason to go to a prior singularity and ask Muramasa to create a specific weapon, it is time wasting, no matter how strong the weapon is.

18. Suggesting to Rayshift to the point before someone dies is not a good idea, no matter how much fun it is for you to watch the "Crazy Murder Loli" die.

18a. Getting Fou'd is not a good reason to Rayshift back to your fight against Beast VI just so you can "Finish the Fucker Off".

19. Using a voice manipulator made by Merlin is not a good way to get people to be afraid when you shout a noble phantasm.

19a. Shouting "Stella" is not allowed, Arash prematurely shot off his Noble Phantasm while training and now we have to resummon him.

20. Just because we have a Simulation Room, does not mean I can alter the device to allow me to see someone from the past.

20a. We know you miss her, we do too. If you want to speak, you can come talk to us -Proto League

21. Trying to host an "Engry MIYA" talk between Nameless and Alter is not a good idea, just... Don't.

22. While having a Picnic is fun, please don't host them in the middle of a fight.

23. Just because a rabbit killed Gawain in a movie, does not mean you can threaten to cook Fou alive.

24. We know you love kids but come on, you can't just take Nursery Rhyme and Jack out to "Play Fetch" with the Dragons in France every after-noon.

25. Blaming someone that isn't even a servant isn't a viable way to shift blame.

26. I've been banned from the Kitchen, apparently forcing my way in and cooking the meals before Nameless is not a good idea. He looked ready to cry.

26a. Turns out mentioning the fact that Muramasa was far more willing to let me into his kitchen when I visited him was not a good idea. I don't think Nameless likes me much.

26b. "Just because I have the alcohol" is not a good excuse to get a few of the servants including Mashu drunk at dinner.

27. Just because you technically existed before Back to the Future 1 and 2, does not mean you can threaten to sue the creator, even if you can go back in time freely.

28. NO, NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, NOT EVEN IF KIYOHIME ASKS NICELY, WE SHALL NEVER REPEAT THE EVENTS OF YESTERDAY AGAIN.

29. "Look what I found" is a sentence that I am never allowed to speak when I am holding something bigger than my head or smaller than my hands.

30. Turns out that breaking my own arm is not the best way to get Nightingale to calm down. Never thought Merlin would be wrong.

31. "Sure you can touch my Excalibur" is not the best way to differentiate between Arturia's Excalibur and my own when someone asks to hold it.

31a. "But mine is bigger" is not a good response when Arturia talks about how easy her seals are to remove from her Noble Phantasm, nor is it alright to use when talking about when how she made Mordred.

32. Stealing Gilgamesh's potion of youth and putting it in the Soup that EVERYONE ended up eating is the easiest way to have myself barred from missions for a week.

33. Just because people are afraid of it, doesn't mean you should hug it. Not even if Merlin says to.

34. Just because someone stole your food, does not mean you should "Call in a favor" and have Elizabeth sing until someone gives up who stole it

34a. Update: The above applies to Nero as well.

35. Just because I have an innate fear of the Lancer version of my female counterpart, does not mean I can steal her horse and run away because of that fear.

36. Making King Hassan say "Omae wa mou shindeiru" is not allowed, especially if you reply with "I'm already dead" just to mess with him.

37. You are fond of Mordred, we understand. But please stop teasing her. Calling her cute will be her death - KotR

38. We understand that being locked in a single room with Nobunaga can be hard, but saying it was like prison is not fair.

38a. Quoting an abridged anime is not allowed, especially if it has "Sluts" and "Prison" in the same sentence, we still don't know where you got that swim team outfit.

38b. Making a mini Excalibur and saying "Blade of Promised Prison Riots! SHANKCALIBUR" is not allowed at all, Edmond almost had a heart attack.

38c. It is noted that the Arthur and Nobunaga were almost forced to kiss, but utilizing time manipulation to see Romani's death and threaten him with "Spoilers" is not allowed.

39. Just because Merlin asked, does not mean you should dress up as a "Cutesy Idol" and perform a song with a voice changer on in front of a camera for his "Magi*Mari" stream, Romani has yet to heal from that wound.

40. Looking Mordred in the eye and saying "Mordred, I am your father" is not allowed, especially when you have her surrounded by all the versions of her "Father", even the ones that just look like "Him".

41. "I solomly swear I am up to no good" is not what you say while standing behind the Director in the Lost Room, she died once already, we don't need her worrying about what you will do.

41a. "Remember that time you became a Loli" is not to be said around Olga Marie after what happened after she was... Killed.

42. Quoting Kamina from Gurren Lagann is banned, especially after everyone believed you were actually erased from the throne. Only to find you a month later taking off an invisibilty cloak and sneaking into the mens bathrooms to shave.

43. Anime is fun to watch, but please. Stop trying to explain why a certain character would be within the Throne of Heroes.

43a. Stop. Asking. When. I. Will. Summon. ISSEI HYOUDOU! -Gudao

43b. BOOSTED GEAR SCALE MAIL! -Arthur

43c. BOOSTO? -Siegfried

44. Valentines is a wonderful thing, we get it. But making everyone in Chaldea chocolate by going around and hunting in various areas is not needed, we have too much already.

45. Stop Rickrolling, that was so early 2000s, get with the golden times old man -Kintoki

45a. EX-

46. Commenting on the impractical armors of the female knights that walk around is not needed, we have gotten complaints about how they feel harassed -Staff Member

46a. I just wanted to help out... -Arthur

47. I am not to sing anything ever again, the reason isn't because I am bad, no. Everyone agrees I am quite good. But its the genre I sing coupled with my Charisma rank. Seems love songs should not be sung. How sad.

48. Just because I have cat ears, does not mean you should give me Catnip - Atalanta

48a. The same was repeated for Alter.

48b. Along with Tamamo Berserker.

49. "Merlin told me to do it" is no longer an excuse that is accepted, even if he did make you do it.

50. LITERALLY ALL THE THINGS ON THIS LIST ARE BECAUSE OF MERLIN, STOP LISTENING TO HIM.

51. I'm only responsible for a quarter of these, stop blaming me for your troubles, Normies -Merlin

Kiyohime asks Arthur what to do to catch Gudao's attention. Arthur tells her to turn into his most cherished person. She turns into Gudako and tries to force Gudao into sex.

[multisfabulis]

Wayfinder’s Voyage

Terrestrial (Chapter 2 | 2)

Word Count: 6427

Fun fact, the last part of this chapter was written and finished during Terraqua week on Twitter so this marks the second time I've written a fic for a ship and the ship week just happens to roll around when I get around to writing it. Maybe lightning will strike twice around this time next year!

While I was reading fics on AO3 over the past day, I noticed a couple things. One is that the two people I read the fics from put more thought into their works than I did and I spent a month and a half writing both these chapters. The other is that my interpretation of this ship is vastly different from others which isn't a bad thing! I think my years of writing my original ship of Verreth has gotten me to stay with the "slow" aspect of slowburn with plans of payoff being sometime in the future. I do plan on writing payoff for this ship someday, just at some point in the undetermind future!

One last thing is there's a timeline with this fic! It's not super necessary to know but for those wondering, there's 4 scenes in both chapters and it goes Aqua 1 > Terra 1 > T2 > A2 > A3 > T3 > A4 > T4. Hopefully, that's not confusing!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     Today had been a good day, thought Terra as he headed towards the library. He was coming from Aqua’s room after finding that she wasn’t there and figured she’d be at the library studying. They’d finished their daily training earlier so he wanted to spend some time with her before evening rolled around. Besides, he wanted to thank her for helping him out with his magic skills, or lack thereof. It was only because of her guidance he was able to do what he did today.

     He felt like he was in top form. He mastered new techniques for his Keyblade, learned to use some strong magic, and even earned Eraqus’ praise. This was honestly a great day and he wanted Aqua to partake in his revelry. She needed a break from studying anyway so this was as good a time as any.

     He stepped inside the library through the grand set of double doors. Tall bookcases lined the walls from top to bottom, left to right. Sunlight poured in from the great western window, causing the tables sitting in the center to cast large shadows all across the tiled floor. He looked at where she usually sat and, while there was a stack of books and some paper lying on the table, she wasn’t there. That struck him as odd since she normally put things back where they belonged. If she wasn’t in her room or here, something must’ve happened.

     He searched all over for her but he still couldn’t find her. There’s no way she left the Land of Departure so she had to be somewhere. The only place he hadn’t checked yet was the mountain, which he was unsure about. She never ventured far from the building and that was when she was outside but it was the best guess he had. He ran out the front door and down the stairs leading up.

     He didn’t need to look very far. He found her sitting on the edge of the Forecourt with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking off into the horizon. This had happened enough times for him to know she was deep in thought over something. Whatever she was thinking about, it was affecting her to the point she wasn’t acting like her usual self and he couldn’t just ignore her.

     She didn’t seem to acknowledge him when he sat down beside her. He decided to give her some time to see if she wanted to speak first. A moment or two of silence passed before it was made clear he had to be the one to break the ice. Starting off with a question looked to be the right way to go.

     “Everything okay?”

     He saw the corner of her mouth curve up into a tiny smile and she replied, “Yeah, I’m just…thinking.”

     “About what?” he asked.

     She leaned back and let her legs hang off the edge of the Forecourt. “The future, I guess.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Our future as Keyblade Masters, I mean.”

     That caught him off-guard. She wasn’t one to worry about the future, least of all them becoming Masters. She never thought of it as an if, instead an expectation to meet one day, so to hear her say those words concerned him somewhat. The only possible explanation he could think of was that she was starting to doubt herself and her abilities as a Keyblade wielder.

     Of course, that made no sense. Despite her modesty, she’s proven her strength and capabilities more times than he could remember to both him and their master, not to mention she had the heart to show for it. He had the confidence in believing she’d pass her exam with flying colors and become a pretty damn good Keyblade Master. Maybe she just needed to be reminded of that?

     “Hey, if you’re worried about not becoming a Master, I don’t think you have any reason to,” he said in an attempt to reassure her. “Me and Master know you’ll ace your Mark of Mastery exam and---”

     “You don’t understand, that’s exactly what I mean!” After shouting that, she leaned forwards and put her hands in her lap, keeping her eyes fixed on them. “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”

     So he was wrong, which left him even more confused on what was going on than before. “Then what are you worried about?”

     Breathing in deep, she answered with, “We said we’d become Masters together one day, right? But what happens if we don’t? What if only one of us passes and the other fails?”

     “You mean, if you were to pass and I were to fail?” Was that really what she was tearing herself up over? It’s a possibility that’s stuck with him for a while now and, though he’d prefer it not happen at all, it wouldn’t bother him too much if it came true. “Well, if it happens, it happens. It’s not up to us on whether we become Masters or not, you know that.”

     “But I don’t want to be the only one who passes.” She finally looked at him for the first time since this conversation began. “I don’t want to be a master without you, Terra.”

     Her earnest sincerity flustered him, causing him to avert his eyes away from her gaze as his heart fluttered wildly about. There was a part of him that, admittedly, was touched by her devotion to him. It was just like her to want that and share the enjoyment of hitting that milestone together. But what kind of friend would he be if he let her give up on her dream? It may have been theirs all this time but she stood a real chance at getting it and she deserved it.

     “Aqua, as much as I understand how you’re feeling, you shouldn’t pass up on being a Master for my sake,” he said, hoping that he was getting through to her. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

     “But I don’t want my title to come between us. I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want you to…” she trailed off. Looking her way revealed her hands to be clasped tightly together in her lap. Even without that little indicator, she didn’t need to finish for him to know what she meant.

     He slowly reached over, took her hand in his, and held it to ease her shaking. “I could never hate you, Aqua. You’re my friend and I just want you to be happy.”

     When she didn’t respond, he continued on, “That’s why I promise that, if you’re the only one of us who passes, I’ll support you 100% all the way.” He gave her hand a firm yet gentle squeeze. “I give you my word.”

     She stiffened beside him yet she didn’t try to take her hand away. The only sound that broke through the quiet was the ambient noise surrounding them. He watched as her shoulders shook and she wiped unshed tears from the corners of her eyes. Even so, he could see a small smile on her face. Sometimes, all she needed to hear were words of encouragement, which he was more than happy to provide.

     Eventually, she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Now it was his turn to act like he got hit with electricity. Before he could say or do anything more to react, she whispered:

     “Thank you.”

     He hoped she couldn’t see the defeated yet tender smile he had. There was a reason he felt something akin to fondness for her when she did something like this. He liked this part of her, even if it did leave him feeling like a fish out of water sometimes. He rested his cheek against her in an attempt to return her affection. Whether she’d realize that or not remained to be seen.

     “You’re welcome.”

     They stayed like that for as long as they could. From watching the sun set over the horizon to greeting the night sky together, they stayed. Their only witnesses were the stars above them as they twinkled in the darkness.

     Terra let out a yawn as he walked down the corridor leading to his room. He had just gotten back from doing some late night training outside and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. It was tiring yet rewarding, which gave him hope he’d get stronger the longer he kept at it. If he had any chance at becoming a Keyblade Master, he figured this was his best shot.

     It was when he was reaching the library he noticed it. A dull orange glow was emanating from the crack under the set of double doors, which he found to be strange because who could be in there at this late hour? Master would’ve already retired to his chambers earlier in the night so it had to be the only other person living here. Was she still studying, even with it being this late?

     He pushed open the doors and stepped inside, his voice breaking the silence with a single call of her name. He didn’t get an answer and soon realized why. At the furthest table on the east side of the room, with stacks of book piled all around her, was a soundly asleep Aqua. The orange glow he saw before came from the small lamp sitting beside her just within hand’s reach.

     A smile split across his face when he approached her. Her face was buried in an open book and she was holding a pencil in her hand, as if she was writing things down before falling asleep. He’d believe it too, what with all the papers scattered around the table that were full of extensive notes just from a cursory glance alone. It was honestly kinda adorable seeing her like this. He’d ponder on the question of what to do with her but asking himself that yet again would yield no answers.

     Well, there was only one thing left for him to do. He slowly pulled her chair out, tensing up when it seemed she was stirring before relaxing. He set the pencil down beside a stack of books and carefully picked her up so as to not jostle her awake. This had practically become a routine at this point. Then he began the long trek of carrying her back to her room.

     It wasn’t like this was his first time doing this sort of thing. If anything, he’s had to put her to bed more times than he could count lately. He didn’t mind helping her out every now and then but this was starting to turn into a problem. He hoped she wasn’t pushing herself too hard to the point of exhaustion. While her hardworking nature was a trait he greatly admired her for, it was a double-edged sword. He was worried that it’d lead her to an early grave if she didn’t slow down some.

     There was little doubt in his mind she was running herself ragged. She trained and studied hard on a daily basis and that wasn’t even taking into account all the cooking, cleaning, and management of him she decided to put on her shoulders. She seemed more like a mother than a girl two years his junior. Just because she was his fellow apprentice didn’t mean she needed to bear so much responsibility. If only she'd take his words to heart instead of shrugging them off like she usually did.

     They soon made it to her room. He opened the door and carefully maneuvered his way inside with her in his arms. There wasn’t much to remark on in here, aside from the organized tidiness of it all. It was something he always tried to strive for with his own room but he could never quite get on her level. He set her down on the bed, pulling the blanket up over her since it was around that time the weather cooled some. When it came time for him to leave, he left the room and shut the door but not before silently bidding her goodnight. If there was anything he wanted for her to have tonight, it was a restful night’s sleep.

     Now what? Maybe it was perhaps a good idea to clean up her improvised office so it’d save her some time tomorrow. He knew her well enough to know she’d rush over to the library to do the exact same thing the moment she realized she woke up in bed and not there in her chair. It was the least he could do. With a weary sigh, he trudged back to the library, feeling that this was going to be a long night.

     What if he became someone she wouldn’t need to look after anymore? Part of the reason why she didn’t put herself above others was because she was too busy taking care of everyone so it was up to him to lighten the load. If he could show her he’d be fine without her worrying, she might finally think of herself for once. The more he thought about it, the more right it felt. He was going to become a man who could be independent from her so she could get some well-needed rest. It was the best solution he had to this problem and he had to make it work.

     Eventually, he was inside the library again and at her table. His first order of business was to put all the books back in their place, which meant taking apart the stacks, reading their titles, and searching the empty spots in the vast bookcases. Then the papers strewn about had to be organized and put somewhere she could easily see tomorrow. Oh, tonight was going to be a long night, indeed.

     The first few books were easy to find and return. It was when he got to the more complicated ones he had to do a double-take because these were advanced. These were books he was absolutely positive they didn’t need to learn from but she certainly was, if her notes were anything to go by. Just flipping through the pages let him see how complex and intricate everything was for an apprentice to learn yet she made it seem so simple, so straightforward. He had to give Aqua major props for understanding all this since he sure as hell couldn’t.

     Her intelligence was just one of her many amazing qualities. There was her strength, her kindness, her selflessness, her ambition, her determination, even her modesty, although he wished she’d realize the praise heaped upon her by both him and their master was rightfully earned instead of it being said for niceties’ sake. She was a person he was proud to call his friend and he had all the confidence to believe she’d be a superb Keyblade Master. Admiration didn’t come close to how he felt towards her yet it was a small step before falling into adoration.

     He’s known for a while he’d developed feelings for her. It was hard to pinpoint when he became so enamored with her but the way he’s viewed her definitely changed the more they aged. She stopped being a friend a long time ago and was turning into a girl he may or may not have been falling in love with. Everything on that front was a mess of jumbled up knots that would take forever to unravel. His method of dealing with these was to express them quietly, convey them in a way she wouldn’t suspect there being something deeper. He had no idea of when or even if he’d confess because he wasn’t sure there’d ever be a right time.

     Now definitely wasn’t the best time. They needed to focus on their exam and romance should be the last thing on either of their minds. Even the future didn’t seem certain, what with the choice they were supposed to make when they did surpass the rank of apprentice. One would stay and succeed their master while the other would travel to other worlds to protect them from invading Heartless. He didn’t go further down that depressing train of thought. He had plenty of time to decide on when would be good so he didn’t need to worry too much on it.

     Maybe he could tell her when he became independent from her. The day she realized she wouldn’t have to look after him anymore, he’d tell her. That sounded right. It was still a far off dream but it was a dream he could see now.

     He’d wait for that day, no matter how long it took. A part of him almost wanted to believe he was looking forward to it.

     Terra ran inside the ravine, looking behind him to see if the Unversed would dare follow him in. The twisters carrying them still raged on outside and he hoped they’d stay out there. He kept his Keyblade trained at the entrance, ready to defend himself at a moment’s notice. He waited and waited till it became clear they weren’t in hot pursuit of him for him to dismiss his Keyblade, thanking whatever higher power there was for the brief respite.

     The only relatively safe place he had was further inside the ravine. He began walking, running a hand alongside the wall to help keep himself steady as the world spun around him and his body ached. It was about halfway through he collapsed from the exhaustion, falling to his knees while struggling to breathe. He needed to take a break. If he went into battle like this, he would surely lose. He shifted himself into a sitting position and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes.

     How did it all end up like this? The dream he worked so hard to achieve, his lifelong dream of becoming a Keyblade Master, slipped from his grasp just when he thought he could reach it. Ven, the boy he saw as a little brother, the friend he swore to protect, was being hunted down by an entity who meant him harm and would stop at nothing to ensure his demise. Aqua would want nothing to do with him after she found out what had happened and he wouldn’t blame her for washing her hands of him. That was if she hadn’t done so already. Then their master, the man they all saw and looked up to as a father figure, he…

     His eyes burned with tears threatening to spill over. He never hated Eraqus, they may have argued at times but he never hated him. He took him, Aqua, and Ven in, raised them as if they were his own, and only wanted what was best for them. Sure, he wasn’t perfect but what parent was? He may have fought him and Ven earlier but he showed genuine regret and wanted to make amends to them both. Terra didn’t want to hurt him, he was just trying to protect his friend, so why? Why did he have to die? He didn’t deserve such a fate, especially one dealt to him by his apprentice and former friend’s hand. If only he could rewind time and try to reason with him, try to undo his death so they wouldn’t have the grief of losing him weighing on their minds. Yet he had no such power so it became another sin he put on his cross to bear.

     How was he going to explain what happened to Ven? The last time they saw each other was when he cast him out the portal before fighting with their master. He was still alive, that much Terra knew, but he didn’t know where he ended up at. The one thing he had to know, though, was why Ven was willing to die by Eraqus’ hand. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong so why? He didn’t understand what his friend’s death would accomplish, not like he wanted to if it did at any rate. When he eventually learned of the aftermath of that fight, Terra worried it might break him, if everything up to this point hadn’t already. A part of him almost believed Ven would revert back to the despondent boy he was when they first met and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from that. It was a miracle he did over the past four years but this time…

     Then there was Aqua. With how he managed to royally screw things up with her, he had no one but himself to blame. He treated her so awfully, from the hearing of their exam results to their short-lived reunion in Radiant Garden. His first mistake was breaking his promise to her, which was to support her in the event she was the only one to pass and become Master, and she must’ve felt so horrible about it. It wasn’t that he was angry at her for passing, he was just upset at the whole situation that it buried the happiness he felt for her at finally achieving her dream. Then he lashed out at her after it came out she was sent by their master to watch over him to make sure he didn’t succumb to the temptation of darkness. It hurt enough to think Eraqus didn’t trust him but to believe she didn’t, either? Yet they were right. He was led astray so easily and they were all suffering for the consequences of his actions now.

     Everything, all of it, was his fault. If he wasn’t so trusting, if he just asked the right questions, if he wasn’t so weak, none of this would’ve happened. Xehanort preyed on his insecurities, attempted to turn him against his friends, and used him to kill the man he considered his father. Now he was going to destroy what was left of his family, along with Vanitas, and he didn’t know what to do. He only knew how to fight but would it be enough to save them? Or would it lead them all to their deaths? All he wanted was to go back to the night he, Aqua, and Ven shared under the starry sky back home, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that would befall them. Was that too much to ask?

     Tears slid down his cheeks as he teetered on the edge of despair. Everything was just so twisted, so hopeless. What chance did the three of them have against a seasoned Keyblade Master and his loyal guard dogs? They might as well have been heading straight to their deaths with all the worlds falling into darkness as their consolation prize in this battle disguised as a cruel game. He was scared to die, scared of death and whether an afterlife really existed after passing on from one plane to the next. He didn’t want to die but it came for everyone at the end, regardless of their desires.

     Well, if he was going to die anyway, he’ll go out protecting his friends. This was his mess to clean up so he should be the one to fix it. Besides, this might be the only way for him to atone for his sins, right the wrongs he made. If Aqua and Ven could live out the rest of their days free from any danger that would harm them, then he’d face his death with dignity.

     With his energy replenished, he stood up and looked towards the exit. He hadn’t been this far into the Badlands so he had no idea of what awaited him at the other end of the ravine. He walked on and on till he came out and stopped. The sight that laid before him rendered him speechless.

     Hundreds upon hundreds of Keyblades stuck up out of the ground like markers and something resembling a crossroads cut through all of them. It was then he realized what this place truly was. This was where thousands of Keyblade wielders fought against each other in order to summon Kingdom Hearts, the conflict better known as the Great Keyblade War. These Keyblades represented, or what was left of, the people that fell in the battle, where they would rest for all eternity. How fitting then it was to die here at this scarred wasteland of a graveyard among the warriors of old. Would he meet the same fate as his predecessors did all those years ago?

     At the eastern end of the crossroads was Aqua. Their eyes met and hers held a quiet fury in them he had never seen before. They both walked down the paths ahead of them till they reached the intersection, where he could see her clearly now. There were healing cuts and bruises all across her body, no doubt from the countless battles she faced while on her journey, and there was a hidden sadness behind the anger. She knew and nothing he could say or do would make it all right. He was fully prepared for the emotional lashing her words would deliver unto him.

     She didn’t disappoint, laying into him all the pain and misery he brought to her, culminating in her placing blame of their master’s death onto his shoulders. She was particularly close to him so the news had to have hit her hard. Her eyes glistened with tears as he stayed silent and she demanded answers from him, almost begging him to say anything to defend himself. It hurt to hear her voice waver, knowing she was trying and failing to hold back the emotion. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved so much better than this. What kind of man was he, to cause the woman he loved so much pain and not be able to fix it?

     Ven appeared at the southern end of the crossroads. Soon as they both saw him, they exchanged a look and approached him. It was like an unspoken rule that, whatever was happening between them, it came second to Ven. He was their top priority and nothing could be any more important than him. That was the one thing they could agree on unanimously. He seemed just as tired as they were, though it was clear something was weighing heavily on him, evident by how he couldn’t look at them at all. Concern gave way to dread when he told them the reason behind his woe.

     He and Vanitas were to fuse together and create the X-blade so that Xehanort could use it to summon Kingdom Hearts and reset the universe. He wanted there to be a balance between Light and Dark, which this supposed reset would bring. That’s why Ven was willing to die by Eraqus’ hand. His death would foil Xehanort’s plan and potentially take out Vanitas along with him. Terra felt time stop when Ven asked him and Aqua to end him. How could he ask such a thing from him? He already lost their master, he couldn’t bear to lose what was left of his family.

     Before any more could be said, they were at the northern end. Xehanort, Vanitas, and that man he fought back in Radiant Garden. It seemed like an evenly numbered match but power had to be wildly scaled between the six of them. The final battle was here, Light vs Dark, the victor left up to chance. He, Aqua, and Ven all summoned their Keyblades and rushed in.

     His target was Xehanort, the mastermind behind everything. There was no way in hell he was going to let him get away with his crimes. He manipulated him to do his bidding, killed the man that was once a former friend to him, and would kill his loved ones if he didn’t stop him here. He swore he’d protect them till the very end, to his last breath, and he planned on upholding that vow.

     He would set things right.

     Terra’s eyes fluttered open to rays of light filtering through the curtains of the window, telling him it was early morning. He was on a bed, soft one at that, in a room he didn’t recognize slowly becoming bathed in sunlight. The room was like any others he’d been in before. Where was he?

     Only once it sank in did he begin to panic. He was in an unfamiliar room and he was out for what felt like an eternity. He couldn’t let this rare opportunity go to waste, he needed to reach out to someone for help before Xehanort attempted to shut him inside that place again. It didn’t matter who, it just had to be someone who’d listen to him and not think he was crazy. He tried to sit up but found he couldn’t. There were two weights on either side of him keeping him trapped there on the bed. Did Xehanort count for something like this happening and put measures in place so he couldn’t wander around freely? Whatever the case may be, he had to break out while he still had the chance and find help.

     It was then the memories of yesterday started to come to him. There was a big battle between Darkness and Light and those on the side of Light won. His heart was freed, the man possessing his body had been driven out, and he was reunited with his two dear friends. He looked down, as if to confirm that what happened did happen, and saw Aqua and Ven soundly asleep beside him. The anxiety that had seized him vanished, becoming replaced with relief and an exhausted sort of happiness he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

     It was liberating to be back in control of his body and his life. No voice in his head, no feeling like a passenger as someone else piloted him, he was himself again for the first time in forever. No longer would he worry if he was allowed to be out or if it was another one of Xehanort’s psychological games of war. No more losing fights for control as more and more of his identity was stripped away. He was Terra, he reclaimed himself, and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him again.

     A soft smile spread across his face as he watched them sleep. His grip on them tightened ever so slightly, thankful to be able to bask in this moment. They saved him, even when they were knocked down over and over, almost dying in the process. They all fought so hard to reach each other and their efforts were rewarded with a tearful yet happy reunion. He’d cherish that memory till the end of time. He almost lost them once and he’ll be damned if anything ever came between them again.

     They had lots of work ahead of them. An entire decade passed them by in ways no one should ever have to experience. While he was vaguely aware of the passage of time during his drifts in and out of consciousness, it still felt like only days since everything in their journeys happened. All they had were fragments of the lives they led, of worlds left forgotten, to help them start anew.

     Ven might have the easiest time adjusting to the changes. He spent those eleven years sleeping in the Land of Departure, though that wasn’t quite right. His body stayed safe at home while his heart slumbered within another. He was never in the line of danger, Aqua made sure of that. He befriended lots of people during his trip around the worlds so they were certain to be of big help to him. It’d be hard but he’d adapt quickly, Terra just knew it.

     Speaking of which, he might have a more difficult time. Pieces of him were scattered across different forms throughout the years so he needed to relearn what being himself was like again. Parts of what made him Terra had changed so much from how they were before, they could no longer apply to him now. He was, in some ways, a new person and he would never be the same man he was. He was going to be doing lots of soul-searching in the foreseeable future. His only hope was that he would like the person at the end of the tunnel.

     Then there was Aqua. She definitely had it the roughest out of them all and for very good reason. She traversed through the Realm of Darkness, fighting for her life while struggling to keep her inner demons at bay. She was only there in the first place because she sacrificed herself for him, which he planned on speaking to her about at some point in the near future. They met only the one time last year and their reunion was cut short by Xehanort seizing his chance to continue on with the creation of the X-blade. She needed to learn she’d be safe, that nothing would come and kill her if she wasn’t vigilant enough and whatnot. Her time in that hellish wasteland left her with deep-seated scars she may never fully heal from. He and Ven would help her with whatever she needed, whether it be supporting her at every step of the way or by simply listening to her. She wouldn’t go through this alone.

     None of them came out unscathed by their ordeals. Although it would take them some time to truly recover, both physically and mentally, it really helped to know they weren’t alone in this. They still did and always would have each other but they now had their newly-found friends to lean on for support whenever they needed it. It was kinda hard for him to wrap his head around just how many people would be there for them, especially him. Their master was gone now but there was no doubt in his mind he’d still watch over his apprentices from wherever he went. Their new life might be scary yet it already looked so bright.

     His eyes wandered over to Aqua again. He wanted to set things right with her, especially after all the pain he caused her. An apology for breaking his promise was the first step in the right direction. Then he was going to become someone she wouldn’t feel the need to look after anymore. It was because of him she ended up in the Realm of Darkness so he thought it’d be only fair to help her focus on herself for a change. She was a Master now and he was planning on catching up to her as soon as he could. That was a promise he intended to keep.

     When was he going to tell her? He originally wanted to do it when he became independent from her but his time away from people had taught him some important life lessons to remember. Loved ones were here only as long as they needed to be and time spent with them should never be taken for granted, like he had with Eraqus. He didn’t want to leave things unsaid between them, in the event that something happened and he was left unable to say what he wanted. They weren’t ready for that sort of relationship yet so he’d keep his cards close to his chest for just a little longer. Once they were in a better place and had worked through some of their issues, then he’d confess. Who knows if she’d return them?

     He couldn’t quite pin down when his feelings for her deepened into what they were now. He only really realized it when they were in the Keyblade Graveyard before their paths split apart so it was hard to say. What he did know, however, was that she became such an irreplaceable constant in his life. She was someone he confided in, someone who always thought the better of him, a light in the darkness that plagued him. She was his anchor, his dearly beloved. She became his Wayfinder, guiding him until he was back home to her and Ven.

     The whisper of three little words broke through the silence. He wasn’t able to admit it to himself back then but he now had a voice to vocalize them with. He hoped his feelings would reach her heart.

     “I love you.”

[desperationandgin]

The Dreams We're Holding (Market Price)

Rating: G

Also Read On: AO3

Read all of Market Price in Order

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Summary: Jamie gives Claire a present for the baby, a conversation ensues.

A/N: Thank you so much to my beta crew. The true MVPs. And MANY thanks to Danielle for the nugget of an idea that blossomed into what you’re about to read! Now with a moodboard by the incredible @veryfaintveryhuman​. Thank you SO MUCH!!!

“Now can you feel anything?”

For days, Claire has been able to catch flutters of life in her womb, and when she thinks it might be strong enough for Jamie to feel - and if he’s in the same room - there are mad grabs for his hands, trying to guide him toward the movement. It never happens in time, though, and she’s starting to feel a little guilty each time his eyes light up.

There’s hope now, with his hand resting flat on the spot where she planted him, but as soon as he grins, it fades. “I cannae be sure...I thought, mebbe…” If there was a kick, it was too fleeting, and he doesn’t feel anything else.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” she sighs, reaching out to let her thumb lightly graze the dashed scar on his cheek. “Maybe I should stop saying anything.”

“No, I dinna want to miss it,” Jamie counters stubbornly, though he does lean down to speak against her delicately-rounded belly. “Ye could make yerself known to me any day, a leannan,” he murmurs, then looks up at Claire, eyeing her also-round (and larger) breasts. “I suppose I can just appreciate the visible evidence for now.”

“Don’t be filthy in front of the baby,” she admonishes, lightly smacking his shoulder.

“Sassenach, if the baby can hear us, then I dinna want to think about what filthy things it’s heard already.”

Their peals of laughter drown out the television, but he reaches for the remote and turns it off anyway before standing.

“Speakin’ of the bairn, I have somethin’ for ye. For both of ye,” he amends as he hesitates for a moment, then simply disappears down the hall to their bedroom.

Curious, Claire shifts so that she’s sitting upright on the couch, quietly pleading with the already-stubborn life inside of her to throw Jamie a bone. When he reappears, he’s carrying a small, darkly-stained wooden box with a fleur-de-lis pattern carved into the top.

“Jamie, that’s beautiful.” As soon as she says it, her forehead creases in confusion. “Have I seen it before?”

He smiles and sits beside her, holding out his gift. “Aye. It sat in the study at Lallybroch, tucked away on a shelf. ‘T’was only waiting on me to fetch it.”

“Why now?” she asks, taking it from him and running her fingers along the smooth wood.

“Ye’ll see,” he encourages, eyes on her face as she lifts the lid.

Inside is the christening gown his grandfather wore, then his own father, then Willie, Jenny, and finally Jamie himself. He watches as Claire picks up the soft white garment, heart giving a tight pull at how reverently she handles it before he’s even told her the importance of the gown. She simply knows, and he explains quietly, eyes never leaving her face.

Pressing her lips together, she tries to find her words and battle the urge to cry at the same time. She’s touched and means to say so, but instead, her voice cracks when she speaks.

“I don’t have anything like this to give to our baby.”

Frowning in confusion and concern, Jamie moves the box so that it’s out of the way and he can take her hands. “What do ye mean? Ye’re giving our bairn life, that’s no’ small thing, mo chridhe.”

“I only mean...I don’t have family heirlooms, or stories to pass on,” she manages to say even as her voice wavers. “No one from my family left anything behind.”

His heart feels as though it might break into pieces at her words, and he gathers her up right there on the couch, pulling her to his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“We’re building our family, a nighean. This gown is ours now. Our bairn’s. And one day, one of the children will have this for their own. Ye’ll give it to them,” he decides, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “And ye’ll give our eldest daughter the pearls ye wore on our wedding day.” Jamie’s lips press to the side of her neck now, a comforting gesture to infuse peacefulness back into his wife. “Ye have all the love in yer heart to give. That’s no small thing, Claire,” he finishes softly.

Her arms are looped around him, mindful of her belly, and she closes her eyes, letting her thoughts drift and coalesce. Previous worry soothed, she offers him a new one.

“Both of my parents died when I was so young...I-I can’t remember them. My uncle loved me, dearly, but it was so unconventional, Jamie. What if I don’t know what to do?”

It boggles him, that the same woman he’s watched spend entire weekends playing with his nieces and nephews, taking care of them, doting on them, is now worried she doesn’t know how to be a mother. One hand moves to her belly, still able to cup a large span of it.

“I suspect there will be a fair amount we dinna ken, Sassenach. But we’ve learned quite a bit from Jenny over the years, aye?”

Claire nods, but she still looks doubtful. “It’s different when I’m only ‘Auntie Claire’ for as long as we’re at Lallybroch, or they’re here. I don’t have to worry if I’ve done something that will shape who they become as an adult.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Jamie chuckles, then reaches out to stroke her cheek softly with the pad of his thumb.

“Ye ken what I think?”

“No, but I need you to tell me,” she confesses quietly. They rearrange themselves first, so that he’s sitting at one end of the couch and her head is on his lap with her legs stretched out. One of his hands rests protectively (possessively) on her stomach, and her fingers drag lightly up and down his forearm.

“I think bein’ a parent is terrifying. I didna ken what to do for yer morning sickness when ye couldna keep anythin’ down. I was worrit out of my mind, but ye taught me how to make the ginger tea. From then on, I always had it ready for ye. And I didna ken how to change a nappy ‘til Jen showed me how.” His free hand rests on top of her head, gently massaging.

“What we dinna ken, we’ll learn together,” he promises her. “And ye have a sister-in-law who will be more than happy tae tell ye what to do,” he adds with a fond roll of his eyes.

That pulls a laugh from her, and Claire reaches up to cradle the side of his face, her thumb sweeping across his bottom lip. “Together, Jamie,” she repeats. Tugging him down to meet her, she nuzzles against the side of his nose. “I love you.”

Jamie’s mouth drifts down to meet hers, kissing her thoroughly before dropping softer, gentler kisses against her cheek. “I love ye, Sassenach.” His hand rests lightly over her breast and drifts until he can feel the beating of her heart. “I’ve been watching yer body change as ye grow our bairn. Ye give yerself to our child every day,” he murmurs.

“Giving life isn’t the same as knowing how to sustain it. Nurture it.” She knows, somewhere in the back of her hormone-addled mind that she isn’t lacking in warmth, but the words make it out anyway.

Jamie’s look of admonishment confirms it. “Ye’re the most nurturing person I know.”

Tugging at his hand, she kisses his knuckles in silent gratitude for his words. “But what did my mother do when I fell down? Did she sing silly songs when I was upset? Did she soothe me at night by rocking me or…” She isn’t sure what the other options are, and she trails off, looking at her husband helplessly.

Moving his hand from her chest to the side of her face, Jamie lets the back of his fingers glide across her skin. “In the moment, ye’ll ken what to do, or we’ll work it out, the two of us. Aye?”

Claire closes her eyes, pressing her cheek into his hand. “Aye,” she agrees with a small smile. He’s never failed to find the right thing to say, and every now and then, she wonders how he does it. “Thank you, Jamie.”

He hums, helping her sit up. “I’m only speaking true.”

“And you gave me a wonderful gift,” she adds, holding onto his hand as he stands and helps her once more. “Something for all of our children.”

“First present for our bairn.” He pulls her close to kiss her forehead, smiling when he feels her hands rest against his lower back.

“It’s only fitting that it’s come from you.” With a tender kiss to his neck, they hold one another in the living room until he simply lifts her off her feet, carrying her to their room. It makes her laugh, and she rests her head against his shoulder. “I can still walk, you know.”

“Aye, but why bother when ye have me?”

She laughs again as he places her gently on the bed, then sighs contentedly as he joins her, curling up in his new sleeping position - head by her belly, as if in his sleep he’ll be the first to know if anything’s amiss.

She enjoys it; the first time he slept there it broke her heart wide open, and she’d somehow loved him more than she had the moment before. Now, her fingers reach down to tug at his curls affectionately.

“You spoil me, you know,” Claire hums, closing her eyes.

“‘Tis my job,” Jamie replies seriously, though he kisses her stomach as he does. “I’ll always take care of ye.”

Their eyes meet, and she smiles warmly at him. “I’ve never doubted it.”

Before he can say anything else, Jamie glances at her stomach sharply - she felt it too, an insistent little kick. Both of them pause, his hand not moving from that spot as they wait. The five seconds between moments feel like hours before finally, there’s another movement, like something rolling under her skin, and Jamie’s eyes widen in awe.

“There’s our bairn,” he breathes out, eyes focused on the spot his hand is covering, even as his head drops to press kisses all around the immediate area. “A leannan, can ye hear me?” he murmurs. “‘Tis yer da.” When another kick comes, he laughs and looks up at his wife in sheer joy. “What a braw little wean.”

The tears that were threatening retreat as Claire laughs in delight, covering his hand with her own. “Now that you’ve felt movement, what do you think, Da?”

He smiles, pressing the curve of his lips to her stomach for a moment before responding. “I think ye’ve given me the best gift ye ever could, Sassenach. I’ve wanted to be a father for most of my adult life. Feeling our bairn inside of ye, Claire…”

It makes it real, makes everything he’s working for hold more weight

“Ye gave me a purpose when ye found me, a nighean. A reason to work harder. And now…” He’s just as emotional as she is this time, a tear dropping to the apple of her cheek. “Ye gave my life meaning, aye? Everything I am is for you.”

She doesn’t know what to say, a lump in her throat making it impossible anyway. They breathe one another in, both on their sides and holding onto one another. After a soft brush of her lips across his cheek, she guides his hand to her chest, over her heart.

“Come love me, Jamie,” she whispers quietly, sighing as he cups her breast and rises just enough to envelop her against his body.

When they’re still together in the quiet after, he returns to his new sleeping position and traces his fingers lightly over her skin.

“Sleep now, mo nighean donn. Dream of our bairn.”

By the time he says it, she’s already half-way there.

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 19

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / ... HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 19 Earlier

They may have been technically in an armistice, but it did not escape Xichen’s notice that the scouts still patrolled, and groups of Ikarahu soldiers still rode out in the evenings. Trust, Xichen thought, but not without contingency.

Still, it meant that Xichen had less to do during his days. He still spent mornings with the healers and time working with Mingjue, but there were fewer injuries to heal and fewer decisions to make. It had been too cold to sword fight, sometimes even too cold to ride. It hadn’t taken long for him to grow bored with so many idle afternoons.

Fortunately, Guangyao had expressed interest in deepening his knowledge of the guqin, and it became a welcome distraction in Xichen’s day. Xichen had been uncertain of the wisdom of befriending him at first, but Guangyao made no demands of him and kept a respectful distance, letting Xichen guide their conversations, and eventually, Xichen found that he liked the man’s quiet, thoughtful company.

Sometimes they spoke of poetry, as they had discovered a mutual appreciation for the poetry of Mu Bai, one of the greatest pastoral poets in their country’s history. Sometimes they shared tea and talked about the strange world they had found themselves in and the peculiarities of living in an army camp.

And sometimes, they spoke of home.

Obliquely, of course. Xichen preferred not to share details of his family, and Guangyao was, if anything, more reticent about his life in Jinlin Tai. But they could speak of their cities, the infrastructure, the people, their day-to-day tasks. As much as Xichen valued Qingyang and Huaisang, it wasn’t the same as having a friend who understood the position and life he’d left. Guangyao could laugh with Xichen about the famously disastrous contract between the Wen and the Zhao two decades ago that ended with the dissolution of two marriages, the return of the silk dowry that had already been made into dresses, and a vow that the Wen would never drink Zhao tea again. He sympathized with the failed compact between Xichen’s uncle and Yunmeng, although in the end, that alliance had been made stronger through a triad of exchanges that cost the Cloud Recesses fewer concessions. He told funny stories of bickering merchants in Jinlin Tai and Xichen told stories of escaped goats. It made him miss his home both less and more to talk about it, and he thought he saw the same wistfulness in Guangyao.

Today, however, at the time they usually sat to play, he was surprised to find Guangyao’s tent occupied with other people.

Mingjue was sitting in a chair, leaning over a map on the table. Qingyang was holding a brush over a map she seemed to be guarding, never fond of anyone touching her maps, and especially not fond of Guangyao around them. He had, only once, debated the placement of a territory border, and she clearly had not forgiven him. Guangyao and Huaisang were having an animated discussion about...something Xichen didn’t catch because as soon as Mingjue saw him, he grinned, mouth tipping up at one corner, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Xichen’s focus narrowed to the beloved shape of his face.

“Aitapaho, come. Sit,” Mingjue beckoned.

Xichen set down his guqin and sat in the chair next to Mingjue, which Mingjue moved closer, cupping the nape of Xichen’s neck to kiss his forehead and nose, the warmth of his mouth spreading slowly across Xichen’s skin. Always so demonstrative, Xichen thought, but he couldn’t help smiling.

“Are you finished?” Huaisang asked, with a disgruntled huff. “Guangyao was just explaining the route the Jin supply chain takes from Ganyu, and I would very much like to discuss how we can remove it.”

“No no, please continue. I am taking note of the different shades of red Huaisang has turned for mixing colors later,” Qingyang interrupted, laughing when Huaisang flicked a map weight in her direction.

Xichen folded his hands in his lap serenely. “I would not interrupt your work. I can not speak for your brother.”

Mingjue’s hands closed around Xichen’s, and he pulled them to his mouth, blowing hot air on Xichen’s chilled fingers, grazing the knuckles with his lips and looking at Xichen in a way that made his stomach flop agreeably. “I do not interrupt you either,” he said, and Huaisang snorted.

Xichen tilted a smile in his direction, and Mingjue sat back, pleased with himself, still holding Xichen’s hands. “Go on, Guangyao,” he encouraged magnanimously. “We are all here.”

Guangyao appeared as annoyed by the interruption as Huaisang, but he only let out a small, aggravated sigh and began pointing to spots on the map again. Qingyang marked the path he indicated with swift, light touches. Xichen could see that they were marking a route leading north from Jinlin Tai and skirting the coast to a tiny harbor on the sea.

“Will destroying it not violate the armistice, anati?” Xichen asked Huaisang.

He reached out to Kitingi, standing on the padded leather perch Guangyao had made for her, feathers fluffed around her. She closed her eyes in avian rapture as Xichen scratched the back of her neck, and Xichen peeked at Guangyao out of the corner of his eye.

His face was perfectly relaxed, and he seemed entirely unconcerned that he was giving the enemy of his father valuable military intelligence. Was it genuine? A dangerous ruse? Xichen couldn’t read the small expressions of his face easily. Or rather, he didn’t always understand what he saw on Guangyao’s face. They sometimes twinged against the back of his mind like an untuned guqin string, and he couldn’t be sure if what he saw was true or calculated.

It was Guangyao who answered. “No, not if the disruption is a natural disaster. There is allowance in the agreement for the inherent unpredictability of nature. The caravan travels over this bridge.” He pointed to a river on the map. “It is guarded well, but if there was a sudden flood and the river overran its banks, who would be to blame? The next time it rains, the bridge could very well be washed away, and it would be an insurmountable setback. If the timing was right, someone enterprising might even find the supplies from the next caravan washed downstream.”

Qingyang turned what looked like the start of a laugh into a grimace, and Huaisang’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Guangyao, do you think the Ikarahu can create rain?"

It wasn’t quite fair to say they could create rain, nor could they stop it, as Xichen had found. But they could make the air fill with water from one part of the river and move it to another, and it would, Xichen thought, look a lot like rain. Especially to the Jin.

Guangyao flushed and shrugged, and Huaisang laughed, a quick chuckle. “That clever bit of advice comes very close to admitting you know more about our magic than you have previously acknowledged.”

To Xichen, he sounded admiring, but Guangyao dipped his head and hunched his shoulders away from Huaisang as though he expected a reprimand. “You cannot fault me for being observant.”

Huaisang bumped his arm against Guangyao’s, and the man looked up in surprise. “It wasn’t an insult, it was a compliment. I’ll be more clear in the future. This has...you have been a great help.”

The expression on Guangyao’s face was, for a moment, so unguarded, so stunned, Xichen wondered if it was the first compliment he’d ever received.

“Yes, Yao-ti, thank you,” Mingjue agreed, and he leaned forward, catching Guangyao’s attention and waiting until he nodded acknowledgement with a tentative smile before sitting back and folding his arms thoughtfully.

“Whatever magic you use, if it is possible, aim for subtlety, Oringa’anhu Ikira,” Guangyao added. “My father is not an idiot.”

“Are you sure?” Huaisang asked, and Qingyang looked away, eyes dancing with mirth. “But I find subtlety so overrated.”

“I am.” Guangyao‘s words were tight and clipped. “You would be an idiot if you underestimate him.”

“Ah, Yao-ti,” Mingjue smiled indulgently. “Aurakat is often an idiot, but he is not a fool. Da ati eko anha, Aurakat? Roka et kindio di amau daku?” he asked, glancing back at Guangyao. “Heti pia amau daku.”

Huaisang clicked his tongue and grumbled, “Em ekos auha kindio eta iraminga, anakau.”

He didn’t seem truly offended by Mingjue’s question, and Xichen glanced at Guangyao to see if understood Mingjue’s meaning. Guangyao’s face seemed relaxed, but for one fleeting moment, his fingers flexed and his jaw tightened, long enough for Xichen to be certain. He did realize that Mingjue was including him as one of their people to protect. Strangely, though, he did not seem pleased and Xichen wondered why.

“Is this a good idea?” he asked, and Huaisang tipped his head curiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be, Xichen? It’s such minor magic, anakau could do it himself, but if it makes you feel better, I will order him to take a squad.” He grinned impishly and Mingjue shook his head.

“He teases. We will be careful, aitapaho.” He looked smug, and Xichen sighed but didn’t argue. They were a formidable team, and he trusted that they knew what they were doing. And yet, he couldn’t help thinking they were taking such a risk based on the word of a man they barely knew.

A few days later, though, Xichen had a different reason to be displeased.

He should not have intruded. It was ill-bred of him to enter Guangyao’s tent without permission, but he thought of him as a friend he could share worry with, and Mingjue had been gone for several days, longer than he had expected.

Evidently, he had returned.

Mingjue was sprawled on the wood floor of the tent in only his tunic and pants, his armor in a heap next to him. Huaisang was perched on a pillow, back to the door, but he turned to acknowledge Xichen with a brisk nod. Guangyao was standing barefoot on Mingjue’s back, as graceful as a dancer, walking in tiny, careful steps next to his spine. He stopped and shifted, bending at the knees to press his weight down, and Mingjue let out a heartfelt groan that pierced Xichen with an icy dagger.

Guangyao looked up and tipped his head, noticing Xichen watching.

“You will have to teach this…” Mingjue groaned again and Xichen’s lips tightened. “...massage to our healers, Yao-ti.”

Without looking away, Guangyao smiled, toothy and inviting, his dimples like punctures in his cheeks. “I am yours to command, Ipira’orhew Ikira.”

Xichen’s eyes widened, unable to comprehend why Guangyao was looking at him like that, and yet speaking to Mingjue the way he was. It was unsettling, and he let his glance slide away, down at Huaisang, who was looking up at Guangyao, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive frown.

Mingjue chuckled, a flat and pained sound. “I command you...to teach…this...” he said between grunts as Guangyao dug his toes into the muscle on Mingjue’s lower back.

“Then I will do whatever you want,” Guangyao answered, lifting on the balls of his feet at the curve of Mingjue’s buttocks, like he was about to jump, before settling back on his heels. He lightly stepped back to the floor and Mingjue rolled over, twisting his neck and back on the floor like a wriggling puppy.

“What do you think I want, Yao-ti?” he asked softly, stretching his head to the side and raising his eyebrows.

Huaisang stood so quickly he knocked the pillow across the room. “I want dinner,” he huffed and stormed out.

Perhaps “storm” was too dramatic of a word. He walked the way he always did, with a lilting step and a smirk at Xichen, but there was something tight in his jaw Xichen did not like. He felt the same tension on his own face. Guangyao didn’t look at Huaisang, not even when he slapped open the tent flap, instead, fixing his gaze on the ground just beyond Mingjue’s shoulder. Mingjue met Xichen’s eyes, though, like he had just noticed him, like he wanted to ask something, like he would say something that mattered. Xichen didn’t wait for him to collect the words.

“My apologies for interrupting, Ipira’orhew Ikira, Jin-gongzi.”

Xichen found it depressingly simple to hide the chill in his voice and the hurt in his eyes behind the half smile of ingrained civility that had always protected him. The ingrained civility also thought he should explain himself. It told him he should offer plausible excuses for leaving. But he didn’t. He just followed Huaisang out into the cold.

Notes: Da ati eko anha, Aurakat? Roka et kindio di amau daku. Heti pia amau daku? = Can you do it, Aurakat? Without endangering our people? Any of our people? Em ekos auha kindio eta iraminga, anakau. = I would not endanger the armistice, elder brother.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

[spaceskam]

A Boy Like That

Summary: In which teenage Lan Xichen dotes on Nie Huaisang to flirt with Nie Mingjue. 

Word Count: 4,016

Warnings: implied separation anxiety

ao3

Nie Huaisang quite liked Gusu.

There were many more things to see with many more colors than in the Unclean Realm. That was all gray and boring, but the Cloud Recesses were all pretty blues and pure whites and tons of plants. The men inside were all stunning and, although he couldn’t see them, he had to assume the women were as well. Everything was endlessly beautiful. 

Including the very important person Da-ge was speaking to.

Lan Xichen stood tall and thin, his hands behind his back and his smile easy. He looked at Da-ge in the exact opposite way that he was looking at him with his shoulders back and his face permanently angry. It always was when there were others around to see. The only thing that made Nie Huaisang sure his brother wasn’t all stone was the fact he didn’t let go of his hand even when clutched his saber in the other.

“I can help you study,” Lan Xichen offered, voice just as pretty as he was, “I understand not everyone can learn by reading.”

“I learn just fine,” Da-ge said, but even he couldn’t keep his angry voice around Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop staring at him. Nothing in the Unclean Realm was like him; he was a character in a storybook who was the definition of elegance. 

“I don’t mean to insult you, Nie-gongzi,” he said, “One future sect leader to another, I think we need to work together if we want to be better than our predecessors, don’t you? Especially if it means surviving the elder sect leaders we’ll inevitably have to work with. Sect Leader Yao is going to outlive us all out of spite, I’m sure of it.”

 Da-ge let out a slow breath and looked to the side for a moment. Lan Xichen never once looked bothered. He was all patience. Nie Huaisang studied his face anyway, the smile that gave away nothing. Every single time he saw him, he had that smile. Nie Huaisang tucked it in the back of his mind for later.

“It isn’t that I can’t study, it’s that I can’t focus with my secret weapon,” Da-ge said, lifting his arm and lifting Nie Huaisang off the ground with ease. He giggled quietly and smiled at his brother. Lan Xichen’s expression changed just enough to show his complete fondness.

“Ah, I’d say he could play with A-Zhan, but A-Zhan doesn’t really play,” he said, crouching down just a little to get on eye level with Nie Huaisang, “But you’re in luck because I do.”

Nie Huaisang smiled shyly and pressed into his brother’s side.

“Xichen, you don’t need to‒”

“Let me help you, Da-ge,” Lan Xichen said, raising to his full height again. Nie Huaisang noticed the way his smile changed with his voice into something teasing. When he looked up to his brother, he saw him softening up just a little.

“If he gets to be too much, bring him back,” Da-ge said, “And he will get too much.”

“Nonsense,” Lan Xichen said, holding out his hand, “Come, A-Sang, let Da-ge study.” 

Nie Huaisang checked with Da-ge first before reluctantly grabbing Lan Xichen’s hand, but he kept a hold on his brother. He wanted to make sure this was actually what they were going to do. He didn’t really like leaving Da-ge’s side. It was always a bad idea. But Da-ge nodded and released his hand.

“Don’t cause trouble, do you understand?”

“A-Sang is not trouble, Da-ge is trouble,” he said. Da-ge glared at him until Nie Huaisang’s laughter made it go away. Lan Xichen chuckled.

“We’ll be just fine,” he promised.

Da-ge gave Nie Huaisang a once over before he reluctantly headed towards the library. He looked over his shoulder to him just once before he disappeared into the room that was full of things that Nie Huaisang could make a mess with. He felt a little nervous when he could no longer see his brother and he really thought about running after him and promising to be quiet. Lan Xichen was pretty and nice, but it wasn’t the same. What if something bad happened? 

“Don’t worry, A-Sang, we’ll have a lot of fun,” Lan Xichen said, his voice calm and reassuring. Nie Huaisang nodded and leaned into Lan Xichen’s leg. He was taller than Da-ge by just a little.

He led the way as they headed away from the buildings and into some of the pretty trees. Nie Huaisang reached out to touch the grass and leaves as he passed them, careful not to pull on any of them even when he really wanted to. Lan Xichen, oddly enough, had a much firmer grip on his hand than Da-ge. He was pretty and elegant like in storybooks, but he was strong. Maybe that’s why he’s the only one Da-ge didn’t hate.

They eventually came to a stop when they got to a small clearing with a stream nearby. Bunnies hopped around freely and Nie Huaisang watched them with wide, intrigued eyes. Lan Xichen loosened his grip on his hand.

“Now, you can play, but this is still a quiet place, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen said softly, couching down to look at him in the eye so he would understand, “This is A-Zhan’s favorite space, but I don’t think he’ll mind us playing here as long as we take care of it.”

“Yes, Lan-gongzi.”

Lan Xichen laughed softly, “That’s too formal, call me Er-ge.”

Nie Huaisang thought about telling him that was too informal, but if he told him it was okay then it must be. He nodded. 

Lan Xichen let him to the middle of the small clearing and gestured for him to sit down. Nie Huaisang watched all the bunnies hop around and he just wanted to chase them and grab them and hug them, but he knew that was wrong. So he sat and watched Lan Xichen intently, watching for what to do next. 

“If you’re very nice, they’ll be your friend,” Lan Xichen said softly, reaching out to pick up one of the braver bunnies. He put it on Nie Huaisang’s lap. “Be very gentle.”

He nodded, petting the bunny as softly as possible. It took a lot of self-control, but he tried really hard. He didn’t want to scare the bunny away.

“A-Zhan loves these rabbits. One time, I couldn’t find him anywhere I went, even here, but then it turns out he’d just been so still they’d all piled on him while he took a nap,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang looked up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t imagine staying that still for so long. Da-ge said he kicked in his sleep, too.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled, reaching his hand out to some of the shy bunnies. They sniffed his fingertips before hopping a little closer. “I can’t do that.”

“It’s alright. Everyone is different and they like different things,” he said, tilting his head, “What do you like?”

“I like…” Nie Huaisang said, watching Lan Xichen for a moment. He knew that he was supposed to say swordplay. He had gotten in trouble because he didn’t like swords. But Lan Xichen seemed like he might not get mad at him for that. “I like stories.”

“Stories? What kind of stories?”

“Like… Like the one where the big strong warrior saves the fair maiden and they, they fall in love and, and they get married. Or the one where the Sect Leader who was the strongest cultivator ever reached immortality and, and he fell in love with a lesser cultivator, but he spent years helping her so they could be immortal together and, and then he left his Sect to be a rogue cultivator with her forever!” Nie Huaisong said, getting a little too excited that the bunnies ran off. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered by it as he smiled. “Da-ge read me that one, he said it was his favorite.”

“Da-ge has a favorite love story?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened and he gasped, switching to his knees as he shushed him.

“Shhh, Da-ge said it’s a secret,” he said. It took him a few seconds before he realized he’d just shushed the heir to the Lan Sect. He was about to apologize, but Lan Xichen was smiling so maybe it was okay.

 “So Da-ge’s favorite story is of a Sect Leader and his love becoming immortal and running away together?” Lan Xichen said, smiling, “That’s very romantic.”

“Romantic,” Nie Huaisang repeated, dropping his shoulder and nodded insistently.

“I read one about a female cultivator who was so strong and wise, but she fell in love with a common man and gave up everything for him. I’ll have to find the book for you,” Lan Xichen offered. Nie Huaisang smiled wide and nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen smiled to the point his eyes got all crinkly. Da-ge never did that. It made him look even more handsome, Nie Huaisang thought. He wondered how many female cultivators pictured him when they dreamed of their future husband. Probably too many to count.

“What else does A-Sang like? Poetry? Music? Drawing?” Lan Xichen. He didn’t even once mention swordplay. Nie Huaisang really liked him.

“Yes! Da-ge lets me skip calligraphy practice to draw sometimes,” Nie Huaisang said, but he soon realized what he said and his eyes went wide, “But, but don’t say anything because Da-ge got in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Lan Xichen said, still smiling, “Da-ge is a very good big brother to you.”

“He’s the best,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled and looked down for a moment. He almost looked a little sad. Before Nie Huaisang could say anything to make him feel better, though, he looked back up.

“Would you like to see something?” he asked. Nie Huaisang nodded instantly. Lan Xichen reached into his sleeve and pulled out a xiao. “Its name is Liebing.”

Nie Huaisang leaned perhaps a bit too close, eyes wide with intrigue. There weren’t really instruments in the Unclean Realm. They weren’t valued unless they were used in battle, which was a skill typically only used in the Lan Sect‒anything that wasn’t useful in battle wasn’t valued. He only got to see them when he ventured outside which wasn’t often. He’d never seen one so up close.

“And you use it to fight?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“I could, but the Lan Sect has many other uses for their instruments. We have songs to communicate with ghosts and songs to purify someone’s golden core and songs to help heal someone‒almost anything you can think of,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang nodded easily. Then Lan Xichen smiled and leaned a little closer. “But, if you can keep a secret, I quite like playing for fun.”

“A-Sang can keep a secret,” he promised. Lan Xichen nodded.

“I bet you can.”

He brought Liebing to his lips and played a couple of notes. Nie Huaisang was entranced. He scooted close and tried to see all the things Lan Xichen was doing. It sounded so pretty and it was so cool. Lan Xichen laughed.

“Here, look,” he said. He handed Liebing to Nie Huaisang and it felt like the biggest privilege in the world. He held it very carefully as Lan Xichen showed him where to hold it near his mouth and adjusted his fingers over the holes. “Now blow just a little bit. Not too hard. Gentle, like you were with the bunnies.”

Nie Huaisang nodded and a soft, pretty sound came from it. He nearly jumped out of his body with joy. He wanted to run around and make as much noise with it as he could, but he couldn’t because that was against the rules. So, instead, he smiled and tried to keep calm even though he was already moving. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered as he moved his fingers to show him another note.

They did that for a while until Nie Huaisang was struggling to stay still and Lan Xichen indulged him just a little, letting him chase around the bunnies for a few minutes. He knew it was against the rules to run inside the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Xichen urged him to get it out of his system. A-Zhan never felt the need, he’d said, but he understood wanting to.

“A-Sang should find things to entertain his hands when his body can’t run around or draw,” Lan Xichen said, “It will help.”

Nie Huaisang eyed him for a moment. It seemed like he was slowly leading in to tell him to practice swordplay, to keep him entertained. He wouldn’t know what to say to that. Lan Xichen didn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy swordplay in the same way most disciples were expected to. He played music and read romantic stories. Was he really going to suggest swordplay?

“Does A-Sang know how to braid?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang stared at him. 

“No.”

“It keeps your hands busy. Perhaps it will help you allow Da-ge to focus a bit more when he’s studying, it’s a very important skill,” Lan Xichen suggested. Nie Huaisang nodded and walked a bit closer to him. He sat down beside him again and stared up at him.

“Okay.”

Lan Xichen smiled and pulled some of his own hair over his shoulder, separating it into three separate strands. He showed him the proper way to cross them slowly and didn’t say a word when Nie Huaisang leaned in super close to get a better look. When Nie Huaisang took his own hair and tried to copy him, Lan Xichen offered him ample amounts of patience even as he messed up over and over. He never once got frustrated when he was playing his xiao or chasing rabbits or braiding hair. Nie Huaisang considered asking to stay here with him forever.

“In a few years, you’ll come to study at the Cloud Recesses with other disciples your age,” Lan Xichen said softly, smiling and nodding in approval as Nie Huaisang finally got the hang of the braids, “It will be very beneficial if A-Sang finds tasks that keep his hands occupied and his mind free. You have all the makings of a very strong cultivator. You learn very quickly.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t have the right words for that. He had no real interest in being a strong cultivator. He’d much rather live a life full of stories and spending time with pretty people like Lan Xichen who played music for him and helped him break the rules. But he couldn’t say that.

He had to follow the rules and he had to do as he was told.

Nie Huaisang smiled, doing his best to copy the way that he’d seen Lan Xichen smile. “Thank you, Er-ge.”

“Nie Mingjue, your Da-ge, is a very strong cultivator,” Lan Xichen went on, “One of the strongest of all the junior disciples here, but he has a bit of a temper. If A-Sang studies and practices and keeps his smile and his wits, I think the two of you could make a rather unstoppable team.”

“Like the brothers in that story Da-ge read where they fought all the bad guys all by themselves?” Nie Huaisang asked. Lan Xichen nodded firmly and smiled.

“Brotherhood is very important and so is balance. A-Sang balances Da-ge very well. The Nie Sect has had many fearsome and angry warriors‒it seems all of the light has been saved for you,” Lan Xichen said fondly. Nie Huaisang felt his cheeks grow a bit warm at the praise. “And you bring out the light in your Da-ge. One day, the two of you could be legendary leaders together. A-Sang must take care of Da-ge the way Da-ge takes care of A-Sang.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, never breaking eye contact. It seemed important not to. He never saw Da-ge as someone that needed to be taken care of, but Lan Xichen maybe knew more than him. Maybe they could.

As fun and smart as Lan Xichen was, Nie Huaisang felt infinitely more at ease when they got to the room he and Da-ge shared. He immediately barrelled into his brother for a hug and clutched him tight. Da-ge, for all his angry stares, pet his head and put a hand on his back to hold him in place.

“Did A-Sang have fun with Xichen?” Da-ge asked. Nie Huaisang nodded against his stomach.

“He taught me his xiao,” he said, “And he taught me how to braid. He said it was a very important skill.”

“Important?”

“Yes, he said so,” Nie Huaisang argued.

“I did say so,” Lan Xichen’s soft voice said. Nie Huaisang twisted his head just enough to see him politely standing in the doorway.

“Thank you, Xichen,” Da-ge said, taking his hands off Nie Huaisang just long enough to bow. They went back to his hair and his back once he was done.

“My pleasure,” Lan Xichen said, “I take great pride in being entrusted with Nie-gongzi’s most sacred of weapons.”

Da-ge hummed in a noncommittal fashion, petting Nie Huaisang’s head perhaps a little too rough. He didn’t mind as he hugged his brother a little tighter in retaliation. Da-ge never asked for hugs, but when he did things like that it usually meant he wanted one. Or, at least, wouldn’t reject one.

“Both Nie-gongzi and A-Sang should attend dinner with Grandmaster tomorrow evening,” Lan Xichen suggested, “It would be good for Grandmaster to meet you both.”

“Would it?” Da-ge asked, his tone of voice suggesting a little more than Nie Huaisang could put together. He tilted his head up to see if there was anything on his face giving it away.

Then, he remembered the way their father screamed and sent them both to punishment for little things and instilled fear in so many and yet still got praised with ‘at least he’s nicer than the previous Sect Leader’. That and Lan Xichen’s mention of Da-ge having a bad temper. Maybe that’s what it was.

“It would,” Lan Xichen said calmly, “Because then this disciple would not have to explain when I ask to attend with Nie-gongzi on my own.”

Da-ge was quiet for a very, very long time. So Nie Huaisang spoke for him.

“A-Sang thinks that’s very important,” he said, echoing the way Lan Xichen had spoken earlier in the day. The smile he got in return from the storybook-like man made it worth every effort. 

“Okay,” Da-ge said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Lan Xichen replied, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Er-ge!”

“A-Sang.”

“Goodnight, Nie-er-gongzi,” Lan Xichen said, amusement in his voice even though he gave him a stern face and bowed deeply for Nie Huaisang to earn a laugh. He stood up straight with a smile and looked over his head to Da-ge. “Goodnight, Mingjue.”

“Goodnight, Xichen.”

Lan Xichen exited with that same ease he always carried. He seemed to float. Had A-Sang not felt his strength with his own hand, he might’ve thought he was simply air itself. The moment he was gone out of sight, though, Da-ge grabbed Nie Huaisang’s wrists and pulled him off his feet. Nie Huaisang laughed as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and got a proper hug.

Da-ge breathed in deep as he squeezed him tight and breathed out. Nie Huaisang suddenly understood what Lan Xichen meant about taking care of his brother a little bit better.

“A-Sang missed Da-ge,” he said. Da-ge didn’t respond as he just held him for a little while. He wondered just how big he would have to get before he stopped lifting him in the air liked that.

He hoped he never got too big.

After they retrieved their dinner for the night and brought it back to their room, Nie Huaisang was finally allowed a bit of freedom. He ate while he talked and ate while he wandered around the room, looking at all the little things the Lan Sect put in their dormitories. He’d already looked at most of them, but they were usually too interested to ignore.

Eventually, Da-ge let him get a hold of his hair and he started adding braids everywhere he could. He didn’t fight him about or even look at him like he was angry, he just let him do whatever he wanted. He was his favorite person in the world.

“Did Da-ge study?” Nie Huaisang asked, again remembering what Lan Xichen had said as he took a bite off the spoon that Da-ge held out to him. 

“I did,” Da-ge said, “There’s too many rules and logistics here and not enough real-world application. I think I would’ve gotten as much knowledge with you asking what everything was the whole time.”

“A-Sang can do that tomorrow.”

Da-ge nodded in agreement.

After a bath and getting into their Lan-white night robes, Nie Huaisang lingered by the cot that had been set up for him when Da-ge had shown up with him attached to his side. It wasn’t usual for disciples to bring siblings too young to study inside the Cloud Recesses, but they’d made an exception after he promised to be on his best behavior. It usually meant sleeping in past Da-ge’s classes and then hanging onto his side after that.

“Sleep, A-Sang,” Da-ge said, lifting him onto the cot. He draped the blanket over him and pet his head.

Da-ge made it all the way to his bed and laid all the way down and extinguished all of the candles before Nie Huaisang slid off of the cot. He tip-toed over and crawled under the blanket, his head popping out of the top beside his brother’s. He didn’t yell at him or tell him to go back to bed, he just gave a tiny little smile and nodded.

“Er-ge looks like the cultivator from the love stories,” Nie Huaisang told him softly. Da-ge breathed in slowly.

“Does he?”

“Er-ge is pretty like them,” he explained. Da-ge didn’t answer, but Nie Huaisang reached out to put his palm on his cheek. He felt warm. “Da-ge thinks Er-ge is pretty.”

“I don’t think anyone is pretty.”

“A-Sang is pretty,” he refuted. Da-ge turned his head to look at him, smiling in that way he only did when there was no one around to say anything. Nie Huaisang smiled wide enough to make up for them both.

“You’re right, A-Sang is very pretty.”

The next morning, it only took a little persuasion to get Da-ge to keep the braids that hung around to frame his face. Nie Huaisang put a handful of random ones in his hair as well so he wouldn’t be embarrassed. It felt fair and Da-ge looked pretty.

By the time they ran into Lan Xichen, it was nearing midday. His eyes lit up and he stepped close, touching one of the braids in Da-ge’s hair.

“Da-ge, your braids! They’re so pretty!” It was the most vibrant Nie Huaisang had ever heard from any Lan disciple, even if it was teasing, and he felt the excitement grow in his chest in response.

“I blame you for this,” Da-ge grumbled, still managing that angry stare even when someone who looked like Lan Xichen was being so friendly. Nie Huaisang bounced onto his toes, laughing slightly.

“This disciple accepts responsibility,” Lan Xichen said, bowing slightly. His playful expression didn’t fade as he looked to Nie Huaisang. “A-Sang did such a good job.”

“Thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen nodded and stood up a bit straighter. He looked at Da-ge and Da-ge looked at him and they seemed to have a whole conversation without saying a word of it. It ended with Da-ge nodding twice.

“Would A-Sang like to draw while Da-ge studies?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened with excitement and he nodded, accepting Lan Xichen’s hand when he held it out.

The three of them walked to the library together and if he deliberately stayed on his best behavior when Lan Xichen leaned a bit closer to help Da-ge with his calligraphy, they would be none the wiser.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

I found this character info template floating around (can't find a link to the OP, if someone knows please let me know!) and it looks p neat so I thought I'd give it a shot with my first DA trio ~ I put it under the cut though since it's so much x'D What no of course this isn't an excuse to ramble about my kiddos, I have no idea what you mean

Name: Neira Surana (yes Neira, not Neria; I was stupid and misread her name at first but then it stuck, so that's what she's called now lol)

Alias: Commander, Chancellor, Kadan, Magic Elf

Gender: Female

Age: 30 in 9:40

Species: Elf

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Spirit Healer; she has a knack for healing and specialises in Creation spells, but is confident enough in Arcane and Primal magic to be able to defend herself

{𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good/ neutral / evil / true

Religion: Andrastian; growing up in the Circle it’s the only religion she’s come in contact with before leaving, and she does identify as Andrastian even if she isn’t overly devout

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth (not so much as in being lazy, but as in being passive)/ wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence/ humility/ justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common Tongue; picks up a few words of Qunlat from Sten and Antivan from Zevran, but not much

Family: She can't remember her family well as she was brought to the Circle at a very young age, but she knows that her parents were in the service of some minor noble family

Friends: Is closest to Alistair and very good friends with Leliana, but considers Morrigan a good friend and gets closer to Zevran post-game too. She respects Wynne and Sten a great deal, and over time comes to be fond of Shale and Oghren as well.

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bi-/pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating/ IT’S COMPLICATED

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony (gains some more muscle post-game but not much)/ slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette (very dark auburn-ish colour) / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: average

Weight: slightly below average

Scars: A burn mark on the right side of her torso and part of her right arm, as well as a scar across the bridge of her nose and her left brow and a few minor scars (mostly from arrows)

Facial Features: triangular; pointed chin; narrow & straight nose bridge; prominent jawline; eyes slanted slightly down

Tattoos: none; Zevran's been trying to talk her into getting one, but to no avail

{𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒}

Dogs or Cats?

Birds or Hamsters?

Snakes or Spiders?

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future? _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________

Name: Liam Hawke

Alias: Hawke (I kinda hc Hawke to be a nickname rather than their real last name cos everyone calls them that, and bc Varric wants to protect them so using an alias in his story wouldn't be far fetched imo), Champ, Dog Lord (in an affectionate way, cos he keeps attracting dogs smh), Hektor (Isabela called him that once while drunk and then it stuck as a joke), (Chuckles)

Gender: Male

Age: 34 in 9:40

Species: Human

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Dual wielding rogue, knows some assassin talents but doesn’t specialise in it; doesn’t really have any outstanding talents, is more a jack-of-all-trages type of guy – he does have lightning reflexes though

{𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good (kinda on the verge of neutral good and chaotic good) / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Was raised Andrastian but is very casual about his religion

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common tongue; learns some foreign words from his friends but only makes a conscious effort to learn basic Tevene (with moderate success)

Family: Apart from his canon family, Fenris (husband) and their accidentally-adopted daughter who still doesn't have a name oops, but only in his alt. timeline

Friends: Best friends with Varric and obviously very close to Fenris too; considers Aveline a big sister/aunt sort of figure and treats Merrill a lot like a younger sister. He gets on well with Isabela, and he considers Anders and Sebastian friends but isn’t as close with them as with the others

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bi-/pansexual (no notable preference either way)/ homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship status: single / dating (depending on which timeline :’)) / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating/ IT’S COMPLICATED

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic (not overly broad or beefy, but generally well built; a lot more agile than he looks) / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black (dark brown/warm black)/ other

Eyes: brown / blue / green (forest green, almost blue-green) / black / other (gold)

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: About average, maybe a tad shorter

Weight: Average

Scars: A large scar across his back from the Arishok fight, as well as some stab marks across his limbs which he acquires over the years

Facial Features: square-ish, but not sharp; somewhat large nose; crow’s feet when laughing/smiling; thick eyebrows; lets his beard grow out more after Act 1 but always maintains some stubble out of habit (and cos he likes how it looks on him; just the chinstrap looks way too posh in his opinion)

Tattoos: Maybe a similar Mabari tattoo as Carver? Haven't really settled on it though; not sure where it'd be or how it’d look exactly

{𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒}

Dogs or Cats?

Birds or Hamsters?

Snakes or Spiders? (he hates spiders with all his being)

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future? (He initially tries not to dwell on the past and focus on the present, but the more he loses the harder it gets for him to let go of it) _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________

Name: Juniper "June" Veronica Trevelyan (don’t ever call her that if you value your life)

Alias: June, Herald (she will protest if called that tho), Boss, Inky, Junior, Flintfingers, Sparky Sparky Boom Girl

Gender: Female

Age: 26-ish in 9:40

Species: Human

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Rift Mage; specialises in fire spells and enjoys experimenting with magic a lot

{𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: questioning Andrastian/ agnostic (?); kind of conflicted and not sure what to think/feel, but does believe that the Maker exists maybe? The Elven gods were fake though so who is to say the Maker isn't too

Sins: envy/ greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common tongue, but learns a bit of Tevene from Dorian and Krem (mostly swear words). Insists on Bull teaching her cusses in Qunlat as well

Family: Haven’t given it too much thought yet tbh but she’s got at least one older sibling, probably a sister. She’s not on best terms with them but reconciles sometime between the end of the base game and Trespasser; marries Cullen a few years after Trespasser

Friends: Is absolute best friends with Dorian, and very close to Krem and Sera too. Feels right at home with Bull and the Chargers and spends a lot of time with basically everyone who hangs out at the Herald's Rest, including Harding, Cole and Varric. Has a lot of respect for Cassandra, Solas and Josephine, and reluctantly respects Vivienne too although she doesn't get on well with her. Respects Leliana too but is lowkey intimidated by her, and gets on well enough with Blackwall although they aren't very close

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bi-/pansexual (heteroromantic and heteroflexible/ bisexual with a strong preference for guys)/ homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating/ IT’S COMPLICATED

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white (off-white/ light beige) / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue (sky blue) / green / black / other

Skin: pale (very pale; freckles easily)/ fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: Shorter than average

Weight: Average, but definitely not light

Scars: No significant scars (except for her arm obviously); she does get scrapes and bruises frequently but almost all the bigger injuries she netted were internal

Facial Features: round face; soft jawline; very boop-able button nose; thick eyebrows

Tattoos: Around her left eye; was part of a dare from her time in the Circle

{𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒}

Dogs or Cats?

Birds or Hamsters?

Snakes or Spiders?

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future? (she is not one who wastes a lot of thought on the past or the future, she is very much someone who lives in the present first and foremost)

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 23: Smoke - Sinners Are We Chap. 5: Blow It All To Hell

So everything went wrong and everyone makes their moves

It happened early one morning, with a thick coating of smoky haze from one of the lava pits coating the city. The Poisoned Thorn Prince was spotted on the outskirts of the city and had promptly blown up a few factories seemingly for nothing more than his own twisted amusement. But if people didn’t know better that would have said he seemed to be looking for something past the smoke and haze.

There had been plenty of rumours over the sudden vanishing of the younger prince and princess from the public eye. So maybe that played into this, regardless some thought that maybe the elder prince was distracted. A target. And some members of the local resistance were a little... eager.

Orrin sighs yet smirks into his cup at the ever-familiar sound of an explosion and the smell of burning wood. Side-eyeing Dove as she hums contentedly, obviously considering it something familiar from home too. He sighs more genuinely at the loud aggressive knocking at his door.

Opening the door and leaning against the frame, “yes?”, and eyeing the dishevelled looking Rio. She looked fairly ticked off which tells him that someone went and did something they shouldn’t have and probably blew something up. How nice to know his family isn’t the only one with aggressive explosive idiots.

“That fu-darn moron”. He can’t help chuckling slightly over her ‘correcting’ herself at spotting Dove. Ahh the living were so sensitive about ‘protecting innocence’. Not that that wasn’t part of what he was attempting to do with her himself. “Jasper went and unloaded the entire artillery on that stupid poison prince”, shouldering her way in which he lets her do purely to see what might happen, “that idiot doesn’t get that it doesn’t matter what happens with that monster if we can’t take out the king”.

Orrin rolls his eyes slightly, it absolutely did matter. This little rebellion was as good as dead if his brother went down. “‘Idiot’ might be being nice I dare say”. She nods at him absently and keeps on ranting, which he doesn’t pay much mind to. Arguably this could both be in and against his interests. Dove had made quite a few friends, she seemed quite fond of them. Now the question was, would she defend them? Clearly she hardly cared for self-defence, but defence of another? If he put her in that kind of situation, what would she do? He is rather curious, but he would have rather gotten her more attached first but oh well. Brother always had to be some form of an inconvenience, didn’t he.

All three turn to the side as the window gets blown in, neither Orrin nor Dove moving or seeming all that surprised; having become rather used to sudden and largely needless destruction. Rio, however, immediately moves into a battle-ready stance and scowls deeply. Then relaxing slightly after a beat, it’s subtle but it’s there. The slight shift in stance from defending from an incoming attack to simply on high alert, “what did those boys do?! Drive that thing closer into town?!?”. She grabs Orrin with little care for his personal space and drags him off, also with little care for his personal opinions on being manhandled and shoved around like some mutt. He almost has half the mind to bash her head into the wall just a little bit. Dove hardly seems to mind it though.

“Personally, I would prefer you unhand me. I’m perfectly capable of walking away from explosions myself. In fact, I would say I am fairly adept at it”.

“Suck it up. You established you’re hard as nails a long time ago. Save all that cool calm composure for when freaking Russet isn’t here”, her scowling more, “darn demon prince”.

-

Dove tilts her head, bigger bro was here? If he found them did that mean the game was over? There was lots of bang boom and loudness. Frowning a little, but she wanted to keep playing. She liked the mortals here. She really did. None of them liked littler bro, which makes her sad. Her bro should be liked. He was very likeable. He was okay though. ‘Don’t mind’ like he always said. Maybe bigger people only liked bigger people and littler people liked littler people. And littler brother was still a big kid, a big person. Like bigger bro, not bigger like pa. No. No one was big like pa. Pa was the biggest of the bigs.

Big lady Rio makes them stop by holding out her arm in front of them as they get out of the home building. Dove hums at the destruction around, yup! Bigger bro surrounded by smoke and ash. She don’t know why Rio makes a mad face, did she not like Rusty? He did make people disappear a lot. That wasn’t very nice. She didn’t like that. He was bigger bro but littler bro was more likeable. Older not better.

Rio lady says some words Remi and Olive say are bad mean words that you shouldn’t say. Family says them a lot, so can’t be that bad right? Maybe living just no like them.

Suddenly bigger bro and someone else fly by having a boom match. The not bro man doesn’t look like he’s having fun though. Neither does the on-the-ground-man bro hits when he makes a red mess and doesn’t get up.

-

Orrin makes a point to ‘shield’ Dove, not that he truly needs to but he had an act to play. Plus, he couldn’t have her running off to that moron of a man. He is slightly thrown off by her grasping his arm tightly though. Maybe she did need to be shielded, was she truly this fragile?

Rio eyes her then whispers at him while dragging them off, “she’s never seen someone die before, has she?”. Orrin simply shakes his head, “she knows sometimes people disappear, but that is all. She has seen people get hurt, however”, Rio sends a sad sigh Dove’s way. He will never understand the living.

But... he absolutely enjoys the tenacity. Oh yes he does. Watching multiple ghost hunters and rebels blasting the high Hell out of brother dearest. Even spotting one of the secret turrets pop out. This really was a plan that would work but surely they are well aware that father will show up at this point. So what will they do? Will they launch every possible plan immediately? Take the opportunity? Or admit that they simply can not win? Quirking an eyebrow when one of the turret shots is an arrow and string, huh, so they were attempting to trap instead of only assault. Arguably smart. Father would obliterate that in less than even a fully livings heartbeat.

“I’m to guess there’s some form of a plan to deal with the big dog?”.

Rio rolls her eyes but grins almost impressively meanly, “obviously. I would have thought by now you would know we’re no joke. Besides, we got some of those freaking spooks off distracting that monster, hopefully both of them. So maybe this brat will be alone for long enough”.

Orrin blinks, well, he did not quite expect that. Particularly not on rather short knowledge. But, spotting a little black and white dot, he can’t help the sly cruel grin. Shit was about to hit the fan, so to speak, “so where are we off to?”.

She looks back at him, glancing to Dove, “getting her to the safe house, then the barax”. Ah, see that doesn’t really work well for him. In fact, it doesn’t work at all. Now that just simply won’t do.

So he grins a little more, Dove huffing at him like she does when she thinks he’s planning unpleasant things for someone. Which was fair. After all, he usually was. He certainly was now. “Ah, well then, ‘fraid that’s not something that’s gonna happen hon”, he jerks them to a stop, her whirling around on him, suspicious and confused, “I have a far better idea”, tightening his grip and yanking her towards him, “how about you-”, then spinning around and shoving her into the road, “-go play in traffic for a little while”. Orrin turns to Dove quickly, “wanna play pass?”, she gives him an unsure hum but seems interested enough. So Orrin grabs her up and turns back to the surprised and starting to look pissed off Rio, “and take the little lady with you!”, promptly throwing her at the mortal woman.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!!”.

Orrin simply points up with a grin.

-

The city goes into absolute panic emergency mode as Phantom slams down into the ground, blue flames erupting from around him and a loud snarl ringing out over the buildings. When the dust and smoke settles enough the powerful monster of a ghost looked both pissed and incredibly giddy, which was nothing short of terrifying for the town’s folk.

The entire area transforms into a battleground in an instant, the members of the resistance and ghost hunters all effectively identifying themselves to each other. This was a situation where they either died or won, staying in the shadows wasn’t an option with Phantom here. Here in a town that had genuinely attacked one of the princes. They were as good as dead already.

But amongst all that chaos one rebel was running practically threw the centre of the battlegrounds with a wide-eyed child, wondering what the goddamn fuck the girls ‘caretaker’ was thinking; or if he even was. Regardless, not even seconds pass before Phantom is floating in the air shooting massive blasts into the city.

Nearly everyone stops as there’s a shout of, “OH RUSTY!”, in a singsong mocking voice. Giving one hunter the chance to run a distracted Russet through with a crystallised blood blossom extract spear, just as one of Phantom’s blasts destroys the turrets.

-

Dove is looking around everywhere, there are parts of mortals flying around, red everywhere, they’re making loud noises, pa is there laughing and making things go boom, bigger bro’s on the ground, lady Rio is running and whipping her face around like crazy while saying lots of mean words she thinks are about bro, when both of them and almost everyone look to her littler bro. Ori was standing on a sidewalk, against a wall, grinning wild. People always disappeared, died, when he looked like that. So she makes a sad huff when he yells bigger bro’s name but like he’s singing a lullaby.

Then Rusty’s making hurty loud noises and suddenly her and lady Rio are looking at him and there’s green and red everywhere and he doesn’t look like he likes it and pa looks mad. She tries to leans towards him so he won’t hurt no more but lady Rio turns away and holds her real tight.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU CALL HIM!?!?!?”.

Ori laughs, “I’m more like my grand uncle than father would like!”. Dove just sees him hold out his arms in a shrug from the corner of her eyes. “In that, I prefer to play the long game. Or entertain myself with chess and all the little pieces of it I can find, as that dead old coot would say!”. Dove can hear the grin in littler brother's voice but that doesn’t matter right now, Rusty needs help! He’s hurting!

Chunks of the road and buildings are getting blown to bits as pa stops anyone from getting near bro, protects bro. She has to get to him. Has to help him. Bro isn’t strong. She knows this. She’ll help him just like pa. She’ll be a good little girl. She knows littler bro told her not to but she hopes he won’t be mad or sad as she phases through lady Rio’s arms.

To focused on flying at her Rusty to stop at lady Rio getting blasted at the ground towards Ori. Or Olive laying missing her little legs. Or the mortals laying around without their beating sounds, in circles of red. Or noticing how the battleground paused for a split second over the floating child going at the Poisoned Thorn Prince.

-

Orrin chuckles faintly down at Rio as she struggles to stand up, a scowl on her face, “you”, coughing, “you bastard”. He just grins, flashes his glowing blue eyes, and winks cheekily. She immediately body slams him into the wall, “ah ah. I would do that if I were you”.

She practically growls at him, “and why the Hell not”.

Orrin chuckles, “don’t you have a little girl to protect? And you just let her slip through your grasp. Now what kind of mother does that I wonder”, he continues as she just snarls at him and presses him into the wall more, “besides, I can see two ways this can go. I’m equally interested in either or, frankly. Because tell me, what made those two wonderful little monsters that are mother and father dearest, the monsters they are today? Why all they had to do was watch the people they cared about die and betray them”, he grins very meanly at her paling. So he leans his head towards her face, “or perhaps, she could defend those bonds. With the living she’s met. After all, that idiot of a brother has shot her point-blank and left not even a singe to be seen”.

That gets her to step back, understanding flashing across her face. Good. Looks likes this was a good time to places the cookie crumbs. Not that he was anything close to subtle there. But then again, wars and battlegrounds hardly called for subtleties. “You- you planned this”.

Orrin shrugs, “oh hardly. Russet showed of his own accord. Simply doing what is in his nature to do. And frankly, you lot really do seriously underestimate how protective father is”, chuckling, “to think he would be distracted and not come immediately”.

She scowls at him but moves to pin him again, but against the ground, as the wall near them explodes. Her looking around wildly, both of them watching one of the hunters intercept Dove and try moving her away from the area. Dove squirming and trying to phase away, though unable due to the hunters' suit. Rio muttering, “if that’s- then why isn’t she attacking Jestine?”, sounding genuinely befuddled.

Orrin rolls his eyes, “she’s a pacifist”.

Rio snaps her head to him, “what?”. Which he simply rolls his eyes at again and gives her a look that says that should have been obvious. Dove didn’t have a violent bone in her body, that was more apparent every day. He decides to be truly and genuinely honest, curious what she’ll make of it, “our family would destroy her”.

Rio blinks at him, “you didn’t plan this”, standing up, “you were running away”. He doesn’t bother arguing that beyond huffing slightly indignantly, as she points at a couple of guys, “hold him, with ecto-weapons”, and runs off after Dove. Orrin simply chuckles at the two men that scowl at him.

He’ll stay put for now. He’s got a show to watch.

-

“HOLD ON! I KNOW HER!”.

“JACKET NOW! KID’S TRYING TO PHASE LIKE CRAZY! WHAT IS SHE THINKING!”.

“YOU DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW”.

Dove whips her head around at arms she knows wrapping around her, seeing lady Rio holding her again. But she still couldn’t get past the purple jacket! And bro was still hurting! And they were trying to make him hurt! Didn’t they know when playtime was over?!? She knows her eyes are wet as she points at bro, maybe lady Rio will understand her. But her saying, “Dove honey”, makes her stop. Lady Rio never said her name? Why?

Lady Rio swallows, the two of them huddling on the ground as chaos and loudness is everywhere around them, “or Robin if you like that. Russet, or... Rusty, has done a lot of bad and, and sometimes people who do bad things have to be punished or they’ll hurt people. Make more people disappear”. Dove doesn’t get to think on that as the ground next to them gets smashed apart and they go flying. Lady Rio rolling across the ground and not moving.

Dove doesn’t know where to look. Lady Rio is hurt, Rusty is hurt, pa got hit by something and looks not happy, Olive, and Remi, and Jasper, and Maseti, and Shilenta, and so many people. There’s too much. Too many. Where does she look? Where does she go? Mortals so easily to hurt but bro...

Was he bad? Did he ‘deserve this’? But, watching them hit him with another glowy pole thing, he couldn’t take much more. They were going to make him go away! That- no.

“YOU CAN EITHER FIGHT BACK OR WATCH ALL THE FRIENDS YOU'VE MADE HERE DIE!”. Dove snaps her head to littler bro, tears on her cheeks. “WHAT'LL IT BE! DOVE!”. Everyone snaps their heads to her then, even Rusty and pa. She almost doesn’t catch, “and what will you do to or for her, mortals? To the little Golden Princess? The youngest of the monsters you so hate?”.

Hate? Ma... and pa... and bro’s. Are they not liked? Hated? But why- snapping her head around as another purple suit grabs her arm and pulls to the side, the ground exploding again. So many were hurt. Were hurting. Because... because family was here.

“EVERYONE’S GOING TO DIE BECAUSE YOU DID NOTHING! THEY'LL ALL BE GONE!”.

No.

She doesn’t want this.

Dove tilts her head back and screams.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

day four - some other beginning's end

MEETING AGAIN AFTER HIGH SCHOOL

A/N: DAY FOUR!! GIVE IT UP FOR DAY FOUR!! WOOOO ! This fic is set in a college AU. Peter is a bartender, MJ’s a DD for her friend group. Ba da bing. Ba da boom. Enjoy!!

Thanks @spideychelleweek​ for giving us this fun week of amazing content!!

So, here’s about 6k of a few Brad Davis references, Peter being a hot bartender, MJ being MJ, a splash of grenadine, and too much nostalgic music. 

Read here or on AO3

-

MJ’s not sure what it is—it could be her friends tipsily singing (if one could even call it that) along to Take Me Home Tonight on spotify after some pre-bar drinks at Cindy’s place, or it could be the jagweed in the car behind her currently riding up her ass, or it could be the constant texts from her newly made ex-flame lighting up her phone—but something about tonight is making her regret agreeing to be the designated driver on Girl’s Night With Three Exclamation Points. 

Of course, she’s always happy—no, willing—to drive her friends to and from home on a night of drinking. She’d much rather know they were safe with her or the occasional Uber instead of just going about it themselves. But she honestly doesn’t feel like going out tonight. Normally, she’d be fine going with them, but after the emotional labor of having to end it—whatever “it” was—with a guy who she really just wasn’t feeling “it” with, she would have been happy to stay at home reading all night. 

And yet, both of them, Cindy and Felicia, endlessly insisted that she get herself out there again. That she needed to keep meeting new people. That she should play the field now that Brad’s officially out of the picture. And it would be so fun, they said. Even if she’s the sober, they said.

It’s not like she doesn’t think she’ll have a good time; going out with two of her best friends almost always brings about some interesting, funny stories. That’s not to say it’s ever unpleasant when the three of them hit the town. Sure, there are times when MJ would rather spend a quiet evening in, and times when MJ ends up wanting to turn in early, but she’s never actively disliked going out.

But...

She isn’t exactly feeling it tonight. 

Felicia sits in the front with her, faking a cough as she starts the song over. “Oh—Oh shit. How’d that happen?” She asks innocently as Eddie Money starts to sing again. 

Cindy laughs from the backseat. “Felicia, oh my God,” She groans, drawing out the ‘a’ in her friend’s name. “You’ve played that song four times already!” 

“Five times, actually,” MJ pipes in, not moving her gaze from the traffic ahead. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Felicia says with a not-so-innocent smirk. She squints her eyes, pretend-examining Michelle’s phone. “Something’s wrong with your Spotify or something, MJ. I dunno what to tell you. It just keeps playing the greatest song ever composed over and over again.”

“Uh-huh.” MJ passes her friend a doubtful side-eye glance. “Tragic.”

“You should get that fixed,” Cindy says while unsuccessfully suppressing a snort.

And despite all the surrounding factors stomping on every last of her nerves, a fond smile pulls at the corner of MJ’s mouth. 

“Okay, Cindy, remember the mission.” Felicia pulls down her mirror, reapplying her dark purple lipstick. “Get MJ some ass.”

Michelle’s exceedingly glad that she has such control driving, otherwise she might have crashed at that comment. “I don’t need any ass.”

“Some dick?” Cindy asks from her place in the backseat. 

Felicia reaches her hand back for a high-five.

“I especially don’t need any dick tonight. Not looking for any one night stands.” MJ’s hands flex on the steering wheel. “Besides, why—why are you even trying to hook me up with someone tonight? I’m literally your only ride.”

“We can call an Uber,” Felicia says without even looking up from her own phone. 

Cindy nods. 

“Guys, I’m really not looking for anything,” MJ says. “I tried the whole hook-up thing already. It sucked.”

“That’s because Brad sucked,” Felicia says with an almost playful roll of her eyes. 

MJ does laugh at that. “I mean, you’re not wrong there, but I don’t think it was exclusively his fault.” After a pause, she continues. “I don’t know, I just don’t think I’m a hook-up person. I have to actually enjoy spending more than five minutes with someone at a time before I can have sex with them.”

Cindy sits back in her seat. “That’s fair.”

“And Brad was at a solid four minutes fifty-seven seconds,” she jokes.

“That’s generous,” Felicia mutters under her breath. 

Snorting, MJ clicks her turn signal, pulling them into a parking spot about two blocks from the dive bar Cindy had picked for their evening. 

She loves her friends, she really, truly does. 

But right now? She’s tired. She doesn’t want to go into a crowded, loud bar, and be hit on by weirdos. She doesn’t think she even has the energy to come up with clever retorts to any creepy one-liners. 

They exit the car, the two other girls still snickering to themselves, clearly not holding their pre-bar tequila shots well. 

It’s crowded, that’s for sure, but not nearly as horrible as MJ thought it might be. There are only a few people at the bar, a majority of the patrons scattered throughout the place. Felicia points out the three bartenders working, and though MJ can’t hear her over the chatter and music, she’s pretty sure whatever she said was along the lines of how hot they all were. 

The three girls move to stand at the bar, MJ resting her elbow on the counter, waiting patiently. 

Almost immediately, one of the bartenders takes notice. He grins a bright, friendly grin as he starts to make his way over. 

“Ooooh, jackpot,” Felicia mutters under her breath as she leans forward on the bar. 

MJ will give Felicia credit where credit is due. This one is cute; brown curls, nice, warm smile and kind eyes, etc. He’s shorter than the other guy and not really as modelesque as the girl, but there’s this undeniable charm about him. 

And at the same time, something undeniably familiar that MJ can’t quite place. 

“What’s up, guys?” The bartender asks, throwing his white towel over his shoulder. “What can I get ya?”

“I’ll have a screwdriver,” Cindy says.

Felicia flashes a flirty smirk, smokey eyes squinting. “Dark and stormy.”

The cute bartender stops at MJ, seemingly oblivious to Felicia’s flirting.

“Just a water, thanks,” MJ says, pressing her lips together into a thin, yet polite smile. 

“Designated driver. Respect,” he replies with a firm nod, though he seems to do a double take when he really looks at her. For a second, his smile grows as a look of recognition falls over his face. Almost as quickly, however, he finds his composure. 

But his smile—the one that’s seemingly directed right at her—stays, and it makes her feel like she just did a shot of Everclear. Everything in her turns to jelly, and she’s suddenly mad at herself for swooning over this random white boy. 

And again—it’s way too familiar.

“Thanks,” she finally forces herself to respond with a shy smile after a too-long silence. 

He seems to have gotten a little lost as well before clearing his throat, excusing himself as he starts to make the drinks. 

When he leaves to go grab some ingredients, as soon as he’s out of earshot, both friends spin to face her. 

“Okay, what was that?” Cindy demands. 

MJ jerks her head back in confusion. “What was what?” 

“Did you know him?” Felicia cuts in, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“No,” MJ finds herself answering quickly, finding herself getting defensive for no reason. “I don’t… think so? I mean, maybe he was in one of my classes freshman year. I don’t know.”

Something tells her that’s not it, but for the life of her she can’t figure out what it is.

Where the hell did she know this guy?

“Well, if you don’t know him already, you should,” Felicia gives her a playful nudge. “He’s cute. And he seems into you.”

Said Cute Bartender Boy passes by again, holding up his index finger and announcing that he’d be back in “just a second,” but not before throwing another wayward glance back at Michelle.

Felicia and Cindy turn to stare pointedly at her.

MJ can’t help the warmth creeping up her neck. She rolls her eyes, both at her friends and the fact that it’s all so very high school. “Shut up.”

Cute Bartender Boy comes back, Cindy’s and Felicia’s drinks in hand, both girls thanking him. “Yeah, sorry about the wait. Apparently, there’s a bachelorette party coming in later, so we’re getting ready for that.”

“You’re good,” MJ reassures him. 

Again, her two friends watch her. 

CBB (Cute Bartender Boy) smiles easily at her, before pressing his lips together, snapping his fingers against his palm lamely. “Water, right?” He asks again, clearing his throat.

She only nods, finding herself unable to keep a steady amount of eye contact before having to look down at her hands. 

He leans a little on the bar, putting one hand on his hip as he shakes his head. “Well, ma’am, I’m gonna need to see some ID for that.” 

She scoffs, glancing away again to hide the fact that she thought the dumb joke was funny at all. 

He smiles again—and it gives that same stupid, intoxicating feeling as it did before—turning around to grab a glass from behind him. 

The minuscule tilt of her head as she looks at him is unconscious. Truly, she feels as if she’s already met this guy, but she can’t figure out where. Everything about him is utterly familiar. 

“Mmhmm,” Felicia hums, quietly taking a sip of her drink, Cindy raising her brows and looking away. 

MJ’s startled out of her thoughts. She turns to glare at her friends. “What?”

“You do realize we’re still here, right?” Felicia teases. 

If MJ were an immature person, she might smack the drink right out of her smug friend’s hands, but she holds herself back, only considering the idea for a split-second. The image that flashes through her mind almost makes her smile. 

“Do we need to leave you two alone?” Cindy offers, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, the humored tint in her eyes sending an itch in MJ’s chest. “‘Cause we can go. It’s fine.”

“Will you guys calm down?” MJ shoots another warning glare as she turns to completely rest her arms on the bar. “We’re literally just talking.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” Felicia nods, giving a sly wink before taking another sip of her drink. “I gotcha.”

Before Michelle can get the last word, CBB is back again, this time with her drink. “One water. On the rocks,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Enjoy.”

“Oh—” MJ wracks her brain for a comeback, her usual quick wit and dry sarcasm failing her at the last second. It takes an almost embarrassingly long amount of time for her to stammer out, “I wanted it neat, though.” 

But when he lets out a genuine laugh, a little of that embarrassment gives way to this dumb fluttering in her chest cavity. It’s then, as she glances around, she notices that both of her friends have disappeared into the bar, abandoning her entirely. 

And normally, she might be annoyed at that. She should be annoyed. But right now, as she’s trying to find a way to be mad, she’s coming up completely empty. She can’t find it in herself to care. 

“I can remake that water for you—” the bartender’s joking voice pulls her back. “If you want.”

The corners of her lips turn downward into a nonchalant frown as she waves him off. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll live.” 

He lets out another quiet chuckle, but he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he lingers, toying with the white towel in his hands, opening his mouth and closing it again as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. 

“Uh—Um…” He rubs the back of his neck with a free hand. “Sorry if this is a weird question—and I don’t mean it in a weird way—but… Do I…? Know you…? From somewhere?”

He asks the question as if he already knows the answer. 

MJ pauses mid-sip, pulling away from her water. 

“‘Cause… You seem really… uh… Familiar.”

Again, it’s as if he’s only asking out of politeness.

“Not a weird question,” MJ finally says. “I was kinda getting that, too,” she adds quietly, almost too quiet to where he has to lean over the bar counter to hear her.

He seems to get a sense of confidence. “Did you by any chance go to Midtown Tech?”

Michelle nods slowly, taking another long sip of her water. “Yeah, I did. How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty sure we were in the same graduating class,” he says, squinting a little as he continues to look right at her, a thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

And then it hits her. 

Of course. 

High school.

It’s only been three years since she graduated. How could she have missed something so obvious?

And suddenly, the memories come flooding back. She knows exactly who this guy is. 

He was only the star of her thoughts, dreams, wishes, and doodles for a solid four years of her god damn life.

“Peter?” She asks, her head tilting to the side, her gaze almost calculating now. 

“That’s me,” he grins with a shrug, before pointing at her. “Michelle?” He breathes out, almost a sigh of relief, when she nods again. “I’m surprised you remember me!”

Remembers him? HA.

Oh, she remembers Peter Parker; she only had a crush the size of the sun on him throughout her entire four years in that hellhole. He was always so stupidly nice to people, no matter what, always wanting to do the right thing, to stand up for the little guy. Back then, he was a skinny, shrimpy guy with a wild mop of floppy dark curls that always seemed to get in his eyes. But now… his hair is shorter, still curly, but more styled. He’s less scrawny, more bulky, like the only other place he goes besides working at the bar is the gym. 

“I—I just didn’t recognize you at first!” MJ’s finally able to get out, finding herself stunned at how blind she had been. “You look… different.” She smiles fondly.

In the dimly lit bar, MJ can still see Peter blush. “Yeah…” He trails off, glancing around briefly. “Just uh—hittin’ the gym. Mostly. But I do a lot of… Free running. In my spare time. All the time. Every day. Yep.” His voice gets a little tight, and he clears his throat, glancing around the bar. “And—and you look great, too. Still. As usual!” He huffs out a nervous laugh. 

MJ’s brow scrunches slightly, not sure what exactly he means, but she still takes the compliment. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He grins. “I like your shirt,” He offers after a beat, his hands once again wringing the towel between them.

Michelle quickly glances down, suddenly forgetting what she was even wearing that night. She smiles briefly, seeing Joan of Arc staring back up at her. “Oh—” She breathes out. “Thanks. Again.”

“You’re welcome. Again.”

A beat of shared eye contact passes between them. 

Peter’s the first to look away this time; a group of older men are now standing at the bar, their boisterous laughter grabbing his attention. He turns to her again, mouth pulling into an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, his hand giving the counter a single, firm pat. 

He doesn’t need to come back, that much is obvious, but the way he throws one last glance over his shoulder at her makes her care less and less. 

It’s weird, though. Not necessarily bad, though. He looks different, now, that’s for sure, but she can tell he’s still that same goofy, kind nerd she fantasized dreamed about throughout all of her awkward teenage. And it’s funny, MJ’s never been one of those people who treats muscles, abs and whatever else has been deemed attractive by society as some sort of dealbreaker in a partner, and she hasn’t changed her tune at all, even presented with such a prime example in the past twenty minutes... but—

Maybe it’s the warm, glowing lights of the crowded bar, or the nostalgic music, she’s not sure. There’s just something about watching Peter make drinks, the way he smiles so warmly when talking, the way his eyes light up when he hears a funny jokes, the way he dances goofily as he enthusiastically sings along to the blaring sound of Smash Mouth, the way his jawline looks as if it could cut the very glasses that he pours drinks into, just... something about the way his biceps flex in that ridiculously tight, black t-shirt as he tosses the shaker over his shoulder—

“Told you I’d be right back.”

Michelle startles, catching herself before she falls forward, her hand coming out from holding her chin and onto the counter. “Oh, hey.”

“You good? Need to slow down on that water?” Peter asks with a teasing smirk, tilting his head down. “Do I need to cut you off?”

“Ha ha,” she retorts with a dry laugh. 

“Seriously, though; can I get you anything else?” He asks, though despite his words, his mischievous expression remains very much the same. “Anything besides water?”

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“You sure? I can get you a soda? Virgin margarita? I can make it look like you’re drinking.” He looks at her expectantly, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly. “Ooh! I make a great Shirley Temple.”

“Aren’t those super easy to make?” 

He snorts. “I mean. Not for… Not for everyone.”

Michelle watches him back for a moment, her own gaze challenging his. “Okay,” she sits forward, leaning onto the bar. “Bring it on.” As he starts to turn away, she speaks again. “Shirley Temple, first, please.”

He gives her two solid thumbs up, and she swears he winks at her before spinning around again. 

It’s strange, how the same fluttery, gooey, youthful feelings can come back so easily; that she can time travel instantly with just a single smile and a silly crack of a joke. It’s not as if she hasn’t thought about Peter at all throughout her years at college; there’s been plenty of times where she’d accidentally reminisce about the old days and cringe about how obvious she always thought she was, and how he never really seemed to notice her. She doesn’t blame him for that, of course. As obvious as she had been, she’d never actually made any sort of move, forever watching from the sidelines as one of the background characters of his life. 

It’s never been a sad feeling, per se. It’s been one that makes her face and neck unbearably hot; makes her want to cover herself with a blanket and never come out again when she thinks about it in the minutes before she’s about to fall asleep. 

He returns moments later, a pretty red drink—with a cherry on top—in hand. He presents it to her with a dramatic flourish—though he’s careful not to let it spill. 

She stares blankly at him, raising a single brow. 

He cracks a half-smile. “Alright, madam. Here is your Sprite and grenadine.” He finishes it off by placing a grossly cute red and white striped straw in it. 

Michelle’s lips press into a fleeting smile. “Thank you very much.” She takes her drink, tipping it at him before taking a long, contemplative sip. Her brows furrow as she tastes the saccharine sweet grenadine. 

“Well?” Peter asks, leaning on the bar with one hand, the other tucked into his pocket. 

She sits back, cocking her head to the side as if in deep thought, smacking her lips for dramatic effect. She shrugs with a slight frown. “It’s alright.”

“Alright?” Peter lets out an almost offended, but good-humored, scoff. 

“Alright.”

“Damn.” Peter shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have talked it up so much, huh?”

“Yeah, my expectations were too high.”

Another moment passes, the sounds of lively chatter and Blink-182 becoming almost nonexistent in their little corner of the bar. Peter’s face twists into one of faux-disappointment, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Michelle only just able to prevent the smirk threatening to form on her own. 

Then, like a drunken tidal wave, that bachelorette party Peter had mentioned earlier comes screaming into the bar. 

Michelle can see the way the light in Peter’s eyes dies in that moment. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, baring an already tired smile. She covers her mouth, hiding the way the corners of her lips are violently twitching upward. 

Peter turns his attention back to her again. “I mean, at least they called ahead,” he says, trying to look on the bright side. “Most don’t.”

A piercing shriek of joy and laughter cuts through the air. 

Michelle flinches before finishing her drink, mostly in an effort not to make eye contact with any of the girls wearing the bright pink sashes that say things like ‘wild thing,’ ‘maid of dishonor,’ ‘shot queen,’ and—her personal favorite—’miss behaving.’ Her eyes drift back to meet Peter’s; his are wide and she can see the hint of fear behind them. 

“Oh, God,” he mutters under his breath. 

MJ doesn’t say anything else, offering a quick smile before breaking her maraschino cherry off the stem and tossing it into her mouth. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, his lips pressing together to fight off a smile as she chews. 

Peter watches as the bridal party approaches the bar, and he braces himself, knowing he’s about to have to walk away from the conversation, but relaxes when one of his colleagues takes over. His shoulders drop as he lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Harry,” he mutters under his breath. 

MJ stops twisting the cherry stem between her fingers, eyes flitting up to meet his, not hearing what he said. “What?”

Peter’s eyes move down to her hands, his arms folded across his chest as he rocks back on his heels. “You ever… You ever hear that… that weird thing about tying a cherry stem in a knot in your mouth?”

Her movement stills, and again, she looks up at him. That same, shot-taking warmth floods her system, and she wonders if somebody in the bar cranked the thermostat up. “I’ve heard of it,” she says, expression impassive.

“Ever tried it?” He asks, not-so-casually leaning on the bar. 

Is he… flirting?

Her jaw shifts, eyes narrowing as she stares carefully at him, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep any sort of smirk from forming. “I haven’t.” 

Something flashes in his eyes, something challenging. Competitive. Something that makes her cheeks burn. “I can actually do it.” The nonchalance returns. “Pretty fast, too.”

She wonders if she should take the bait. 

Folding her arms as she leans toward him, she eyes him carefully. “Okay, let’s see it, Parker.”

Peter breathes out with a smile, pulling one of the many cherries out of the cherry jar. He eats the fruit quickly, swallowing before tossing the stem into his mouth. It’s (unsurprisingly) difficult to hold eye contact with him, but MJ holds her ground, eyebrows raised as he successfully knots the stem in approximately fifteen seconds. 

He pulls it out triumphantly, a proud, cheeky smile stretched across his features as he presents his masterpiece. “Boom,” he says, placing the knotted stem down on a folded napkin. 

“Wow,” MJ draws out sarcastically. 

“You think you can do better?”

She fixes him with a challenging stare.

Wordlessly, she pops her stem into her mouth, and almost instantly, she realizes just how difficult it actually is. She’s sure the faces she’s pulling right now can’t be the least bit attractive, but something in her doesn’t care. Her tongue wrestles with the stem for an embarrassingly long amount of time—she can feel the beginnings of a cramp starting to form—and she makes the mistake of looking up at Peter watching her, trying not to laugh. Without warning, a bubble of laughter comes out of her. She brings her hand up to cover her mouth as soon as the snort happens.

Michelle’s not one to give up easily, but she knows a fruitless endeavor when she’s in one. “Ah, damn,” she says, pulling the stem out of her mouth and folding it into a napkin. “That’s… really hard.”

The snicker from across the counter pulls her attention back, and she’s not surprised at all to find Peter snickering at her failure. 

“Oh, shut up.” She throws the stem at him. 

“Hey!” He jumps to the side, just barely dodging it.“I have to clean that up!”

She scrunches her nose. “My bad.” 

Breaking eye contact, he moves to pick up the stem with a napkin, throwing it away. When he looks back at her again, the air seems to be sucked out of the very room, and she wonders if there’s some kind of weird magic at play that makes him just able to have that effect on her. 

Before she can say anything else, Miss Behavior and Bride-To-Be come up to the bar where they’re at. 

“Um, excuse me!” Miss Behavior snaps her fingers, grabbing Peter’s attention. “Um, hi!” She smiles a smile so sickeningly sweet. Her voice is nasal and high pitched, her words slurred. “Can we get some free shots? My friend’s getting married to this guy soon, so a round of tequila shots would be amaaaaaazing.”

Bride-To-Be flashes a bright, if not a little crooked, smile.

Peter offers a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry. Can’t.”

“But—” Miss Behavior’s jaw drops, as if what Peter’s just said is the worst thing to happen to anyone on this planet. Ever. Michelle’s surprised she doesn’t immediately ask to speak to the manager. “She’s getting married!”

“Yeah! I’m getting married,” Bride-To-Be beams, pushing her hand forward to show off the rock on her finger. 

“Congratulations!” Peter cheers, matching their excitement, though he flinches at the end. “But, free bridal shots are only on every other Tuesday.” He throws a quick wink at Michelle.

“Oh my Gooooooood! That’s so rude!” Miss Behavior whines. 

Peter nods, lips pressed into a thin smile. “That’s right. Every other Tuesday.”

Miss Behavior’s about to open her mouth again when Bride-To-Be stops her, holding a hand out. “What’s today?” She shouts over the music. “Saturday?” She hiccups, dragging her friend away and into the flock of other party members, her drunken shouting fading away under the music. “C’mon, Taylor.”

“Can’t wait,” Peter flashes a tight grin as he waves. He sighs, relaxing when they’re finally gone. 

Michelle stares at her empty glass. “Why did her sash say ‘Miss Behavior’?”

“Huh?” Peter looks up at her, brow pinched together in confusion. 

“Her sash… It said ‘Miss Behavior.’”

“Yeah, so?”

“Based on what the other sashes say, hers is supposed to imply that she misbehaves—” MJ’s eyes narrow as she continues to think out loud. “But… if she’s Miss Behavior… then she’s actually implying that she behaves.”

A snort of laughter suddenly comes out of Peter. He shakes his head as he covers his face. It takes him a second, but he gathers himself enough to actually make human conversation. Michelle only watches calmly, the corners of her mouth just barely twitching upward. 

“Oh, God—” He wipes at his eye. “Can I—” Another laugh. “Can I get you another drink?”

Michelle’s not sure if her dumb commentary was actually all that funny, but she’ll certainly take it. “Sure,” she replies.

He throws another easy grin her way before disappearing again. But he’s not gone long, coming back with a cup of clear liquid. With the same showmanship as with the Shirley Temple, he presents the drink to her, placing it in front of her, dropping a green olive in as a final touch. “Ta da!” He beams. “Virgin Martini!”

Michelle nearly chokes on the laugh that wants to come out of her. “...How?”

“Oh, it’s just water. With an olive in it.”

This time, she lets that laugh—that comes as more of a sudden, slightly undignified snort—out of her. “You just wasted an olive, then. For a dumb joke.”

“Nuh uh. Do you like olives?”

“They’re alright.”

“See? Not wasted at all.” He pauses a moment, still laughing. “Hang on, I’ll get you a real drink.” He blanches. “Not—Not a real-real drink… A—It’s a… You know what I mean.” He scurries off, and for the nth time that night, she fights off a laugh.

It doesn’t take long, and he comes back with a brand new, golden drink, garnished with a fancy looking orange and cherry flag. With not as much flair as before, he places it on the spot in front of her. “Aaaaand here you go. Enjoy.”

“What’s this?” She asks, toying with the thin straw. 

His eyes look upward, as if they might find the answer on the ceiling. “Mango, peach, orange juice,” he counts on his fingers. “And… some sweet n’ sour.”

She gives a quiet nod, going in to take a slow sip. And it’s damn good. It’s hard not to show it on her face, too. 

A slow smile stretches across his face, reaching his eyes. 

“Don’t you have other customers?” MJ asks, eyeing him carefully. The question isn’t meant to be rude. 

Peter shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m helping them.”

MJ fixes him with a deadpan stare. 

“Did you forget about Bride-To-Be and Miss Behavior already?”

“They don’t count.”

“Technically I helped them.”

“—Realize they couldn’t just get free shots,” she finishes for him. 

Peter looks down, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Seriously, it’s fine. As long as I make sure I’m helping out when I’m needed, I’m fine—and happy—to stay here talking to you.”

At that, it’s MJ’s turn to look away, her insides now seeming to fully turn to goo at this point. 

They spend what seems like mere seconds—but in reality is another hour-and-a-half—just talking; catching up on each other’s lives, how everything’s changed in the past three years. She asks about his Aunt, finding out that she’s happy again with some guy named, well, Happy. Peter asks about her life and her family, then asking how her art’s been coming along. 

In all honesty, she’s surprised he even mentions it, much less remembers that about her. 

They joke back and forth, just as they had in the beginnings of the night. She watches as he tends to a group of Boomers, trying to suppress her laughter as he just nods quietly to what they complain to him about. He looks over at her, grinning from ear to ear, unable to tear his eyes away as he pours a beer for one of the men. 

The beer slips out of his hand half-a-second later. 

Although the warm jitters have never left, Michelle can’t help but feel a sense of ease sitting here, talking with Peter. Listening to his stories about all the different customers he’s had to deal with; him listening to her ramble on and on about the latest true crime documentary she’s been watching. 

It’s shortly after the last call for alcohol that he steers the conversation in a new direction. 

“You wanna know something crazy?” He asks, voice a little softer as he leans forward on the bar. 

By now, the bar has slowly been emptying out, the volume of conversation dying with it. Now, she feels as though speaking at a normal volume might invite eavesdroppers.

“What?” MJ subconsciously leans in as well. 

Peter glances left and right before moving the tiniest bit closer. “I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school. I really liked you.”

MJ’s brain nearly short circuits at the new information, and it takes her a moment to catch up with what she thinks she just heard. 

What??

But, surprised as she is, she has enough of her bearings to come back with a way to mess with him, keeping her composure to some degree. “And that’s crazy? That you could like me?”

Peter’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping as he rushes to correct himself. “What? No! No, Michelle, that’s not what I meant at all—”

“—I’m messing with you, dude.” She decides to take pity on him, pressing her lips together into a thin, timid smile. “And call me MJ.”

He breathes out in relief, nodding with her. “Oh, okay. Cool.”

Before she can respond, or perhaps investigate his new confession further, she feels a wobbly, leather-jacket clad arm wrap around her shoulder. “MJ!!” Felicia croons into her friend’s ear, Cindy popping up from behind her, just as drunk. “We just paid our tabs, let’s gooooooooo.”

“Goooooooooo!” Cindy chimes in.

MJ throws Peter a blank, tired stare, though there’s a fondness behind it. She shrugs her drunk friend off.  “Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Felicia pouts before glancing up, her face suddenly lighting up seeing Peter. “Oooooh you wanna talk to cute bartender some more. Okay. Okay. I see you.”

“I gotta pay my tab. God—shut up, Felicia!” MJ hastily spits out, face burning as she passes a side-eye glance to said cute bartender, who seems to be eating this up. 

“Nice, MJ,” Cindy not-so-subtly whispers in praise after giving Peter a glance. 

MJ wants to hide. “Guys—”

“—Come on, Cindy. Let’s leave these two alone,” Felicia snickers, dragging their friend to the door. 

“Fiiiiine.”

MJ slowly, ever so slowly, turns to Peter, not wanting to look him in the eye. She can feel his stupid grin on his stupid face without even seeing him as she pulls her wallet out. “Here, lemme just… pay my tab.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it.” Peter waves her off. 

Her gaze snaps up to his. It proves to still be a mistake, because that dumb, shit-eating grin is still there, but she holds her ground. “Uh, no, dude, I gotta pay.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” His smile softens as he waves a dismissive hand. “It’s kind of an unspoken rule that we don’t charge DDs for non-alcoholic drinks and what not. Especially if they’re DDs that are super cool. And funny. And interesting. And pretty.”

She fights away the eyeroll threatening to show, feeling the heat engulfing her entire body. “Well, I gotta pay for something. How about the olive?”

Peter stands there, staring at her, the corner of his lip pulling upward. “The olive?”

“The olive.” She stares back, challenging him. 

It’s a staring contest between the two of them, one that MJ is determined to win. She has a plan, and in order to execute that plan, she needs to pay for something. 

After another second of her unwavering stare, Peter relents. “Well… Okay. That’s... ten cents? I guess. But like… Just know that I’m overcharging you.”

MJ laughs, handing him her card. 

Peter shakes his head as he runs the numbers at the register. He comes back with a receipt in hand, dropping a pen on top of it with a sense of finality. “Alright, ma’am. That’ll be ten cents.”

She takes the paper from him, grabbing the pen and scribbling something down before folding it up. When she hands it back to him, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a single dime and handing it to him. “A tip for you,” she jokes as she gets up from her stool and makes her way to the exit. “One-hundred percent. Pretty good, huh?” 

With another shake of his head, he looks down as he pockets the coin, laughing. “Yes. Amazing. Thank you.”

His smile never leaves as the door closes behind her. 

--

“Well?” Felicia demands as they get back into the car. 

MJ stays quiet, pressing her lips together in an effort to hide the smirk starting to show. 

“Are you gonna tell us anything?” Cindy pleads as the engine starts. 

Without a word, Michelle pulls the car forward, finding herself slowly losing the neverending battle against that damn grin. She sighs, her hands relaxing at ten and two as she begins the drive home. 

“We’ll see,” is all she says. 

Her smile grows at the simultaneous, tired groan that comes from her friends. 

--

Peter wipes down the bar counter, the folded receipt burning a hole in his pocket as he finishes cleaning up as Closing Time blares around him. He quietly bops around to the music, glancing up every so often as the manager goes to lock the front door. 

He waits a moment, both of his hands hesitating mid-air before pulling the piece of paper out, unfolding it. 

His face warms, his heart thundering in his chest as he reads. 

A note.

On it, a phone number, and next to that, a neatly-written message that somehow makes his smile widen even more: 

I really like(d) you, too. 

  -  MJ