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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 7

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

TW for this chapter: Suicide Attempt

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Panic in the Medicated Bath

Song Qingshi searched the warehouse all night and finally found old robes made of red ice silk. He dismantled the decorative formation above, handed it over to the valley servants, and asked them to modify them to look like inner robes overnight. Then, he quietly put them on the bedside of Yue Wuhuan along with the new cotton gown.

The next day, Yue Wuhuan was shocked when he saw this ice silk robe.

Song Qingshi has urged him up from outside the door: "Hurry up, let's go for a new treatment."

"Yes, Master." Yue Wuhuan knew that he had changed masters, so he didn't dare to think too much. He put on his clothes and went out in a hurry, feeling much more comfortable in this outfit.

Song Qingshi took him through the corridor and went to the alchemy room next door. This was originally a forbidden place in the Medicine King Valley. A place where the original body used animals and humans to experiment with various medicines. It was also the place where the valley servants were most afraid of entering. Song Qingshi complied with the "Declaration of Helsinki" and rejected any human experiment that violated ethics. Fortunately, when he took over being the Medicine Master, there were not many test items left by the original body. He immediately released what he could release and helped those that needed help, and then changed it to a treatment room. The remaining specimens and general teachers are placed in other rooms - these were the big treasures of medicine, and he would study slowly when he had some free time.

Yue Wuhuan was walking towards the alchemy room and found that more than one valley servants cast sympathetic glances his way, and he became a little nervous. After entering the alchemy room, when he saw Song Qing take out a medicine vat big enough to fit a person in, he became more paranoid.

Song Qingshi didn't notice his anxiety. He threw the various medicinal materials that had been counted ahead of time into the tank, then poured water and used the alchemical fire in his body to control the temperature. After the water in the tank turned red, he turned back and said: "Take off your clothes and get in."

Yue Wuhuan stood still, his eyes stiffened when he looked at him.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qingshi finally remembered that he had forgotten to explain. "The Prince’s Plume Expelling Decoction is a medicinal bath. It won't cause discomfort."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before stretching his hand to the belt and untying it.

Song Qingshi turned around, sat down with his back to him, not peeking at him entering the bath.

Yue Wuhuan breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly removed his clothes, and stepped into the bloody medicinal water. The hot liquid medicine penetrated into the skin, causing a slight tingling sensation, but there was indescribable comfort. He took a deep breath, relaxed completely, and suddenly sank his whole person into the water. He didn't expect that the water would overflow because it was too full. It splashed on Song Qingshi’s neck, ears and hair. A pale red flower blossomed on his white robe.

For most Daoists, the robe was a very important thing and any damage would cause heartache.

Yue Wuhuan realized his mistake and sneaked out of the water quietly. He hid in the tank and peeked out, worried that he would offend Xianzun.

Song Qingshi didn't care what happened. He stared at the bluestone on the ground in a daze. After a while, he discreetly shook the water droplets on his hair.

Yue Wuhuan picked his words carefully and asked cautiously: "Master, will you turn around so that this slave can clean you?"

Song Qingshi lowered his head and looked at the bluestone more attentively: "You are bathing, you can't peek." In his world view, it was reasonable for doctors to check the patient's physical condition during treatment, but if the doctor peeks at the patient trying to take a bath, it was morally corrupt and shameless.

Yue Wuhuan pondered these words for a long time, and guessed: "Does Master dislike that this slave's body is too dirty?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and whispered: "You don't like being watched."

"Master jokes." Yue Wuhuan's eyes hardened, and he was silent for a moment, peeking out of the water. His long hair wet sat on his shoulders, just like a mermaid who just came out of the sea. His body was otherworldly, and his muscles were perfectly proportioned with no hint of fat. His waist was slender enough to be held with one arm, but there was hidden power inside. He leaned against the edge of the bath, approached Song Qingshi’s ear, blowing lightly. His phoenix eyes were extremely charming, the red tear-shaped mole was so gorgeous that it could charm people’s hearts, and his voice was as tempting as the devil. "What is there not to see on this slave's body? The people who have seen it. . . there were too many to count. They all say that the slave's body is very beautiful and defined, and it can stop a man in his tracks. It was made to be adored. . ."

Song Qingshi quickly interrupted him, repeating: "You don't like being watched."

After Yue Wuhuan watched him for a long time, he said hoarsely: "This slave doesn't care anymore."

Song Qingshi didn't know how to explain, but insisted: "You don't like it."

Can he refuse just because he doesn't like it?

Yue Wuhuan thought this was ridiculous. In the years when he was just sent to accompany guests, he was coaxed to say that he didn't like it and didn't want it. The result was only meant to find his weaknesses for their amusement.

He didn't like to be seen, so that meant he was forced to show the most unbearable postures to everyone in the square and at banquets time and time again.

He doesn't like saying those lewd things, so he was tortured by various drugs and instruments of torture until he learned to use his voice to add to the excitement. . .

Until he abandoned his sense of shame, gave up his dignity, and pretended to enjoy these things.

He had known for a long time that in the eyes of these stupid cultivators, he was just a beautiful toy, without emotions, existing just to be moulded into whatever his master wanted. He often wished that he could go mad and be stupid, like most slaves, and lose his ability to think. He could mindlessly live a dog-like life and using his body to please his master.

It's a pity that there was always a trace of clarity in his heart, coldly examining his embarrassing self, and then cutting him to pieces. . .

Maybe he had already gone crazy. . .

He couldn’t tell when the fire rose slowly. The temperature of the potion was getting hotter and hotter. Yue Wuhuan’s face also became hotter and hotter, but he couldn’t feel the scorching heat and dipped his head into the bloody-red potion until water flooded up his nose and he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to get up, hoping to just stay submerged forever so that the hot water could clean the filth off his body, preferably right down to his bones.

Song Qingshi noticed something was wrong from the quietness behind him. He turned his head and found that he had been distracted when they were speaking and did not control the Red Lotus fire well. The water temperature rose several degrees and it was so hot that Yue Wuhuan had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Song Qingshi didn't move cautiously, got up and rushed over, reaching into the tank to get the person out.

The wet beauty was dragged into his arms. His eyes were closed and his limbs drooped feebly. His long curling hair clung to his fair skin, dripping onto the ground, making the Acacia Seal on his back shimmer. Song Qingshi's mind was clear. He quickly laid the person on the ground, confirmed he still had a pulse and started CPR.

Yue Wuhuan spit up water and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that Song Qingshi’s face was so close to his. He could even see his own reflection in his clear, black eyes. Because of the heat from the tank, Song Qingshi's eyes were heated and red, with water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. He looked like a naive and innocent boy, nothing like an ancestor of the Nascent Soul sect who had practiced for nearly a thousand years, deceiving and cheating death itself.

He hadn't recognized the other party's true identity by the river at the time. He had wanted to sympathize with a man who would never experience an unjust death.

Yue Wuhuan's thoughts became more and more chaotic. He curled up subconsciously, and all kinds of messy memories flashed in front of him. The tenderness in his chest and the remaining warmth on his lips made him a little confused between reality and his memories as if he had returned to when he was punished by his masters.

Scholar-Tyrant Song almost failed his class, so scared that his soul almost flew away. His movements were as fierce as a tiger, relying entirely on instinct. After Yue Wuhuan woke up, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that there were many ways to treat drowning in the world of cultivating immortals, and there was no need to use modern first aid at all.

He wouldn't be able to clearly explain this. . .

It was standard for medical students to perform CPR on a drowning victim. Regardless of whether it was someone beautiful or ugly, a child or an old man, he would do it without hesitation. Song Qingshi was a little embarrassed that he hadn't figured out the best first aid technique for the immortal world ahead of time, but he can worry about that later. He just had to figure out how to explain it.

Yue Wuhuan had lost the focus in his eyes. He slowly unfolded his body, no longer covering it up, like a fish that was forcibly dragged ashore to die, preparing to be slaughtered.

Song Qingshi quickly turned his face away, closed his eyes, and apologized honestly: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake with the temperature of the water."

"It's not Master's fault," Yue Wuhuan's eyes were open, but he couldn't make out anything around him. He was listening, but he couldn't understand what was being said. He repeated his standard answer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. . ."

This is the truth that he had paid a heavy price to learn and had been instilled in him over and over again, always reminding him how to live.

"Wuhuan, you are so beautiful, you were born to be played with."

"Wuhuan, it's your body that seduces men, so it must be abused."

"Wuhuan, it's because you are so aloof that it makes me not want to stop."

"Wuhuan, you are a monster born for sex."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

. . .

"My fault, my fault, my fault. . ." Yue Wuhuan kept repeating numbly, "It's all my fault."

Because he was the wrong that existed in the world.

Song Qingshi took off his robe and put it on Yue Wuhuan, and suddenly realized that the mental state of the person in front of him was very fragile, as though he were caught in a terrifying trap. He thought for a while and gritted his teeth. He stretched out his hand to slap him but hesitated, so he got up and brought a bucket of cold water next to him. He used the freezing technique and poured it down suddenly over his head. Yue Wuhuan was shocked by the cold, and his mind cleared somewhat. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to give him the Tranquil Mind Spirit Calming Pill to take.

"Master?" Yue Wuhuan came to his senses, a little confused.

"It's okay." Song Qingshi took the towels and clothes he had prepared earlier, wrapped him up layer and layer like a dumpling, and then gave a rational explanation, "You were hallucinating because you almost drowned."

Yue Wuhuan nodded blankly.

Song Qingshi determined that he had wrapped the dumpling tight enough. He stopped, satisfied, and ordered: "Wear more in the future."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him and asked anxiously: "This slave can wear more?"

Song Qingshi eagerly educated him: "Autumn is coming soon. It's going to be cold. You must wear more to avoid catching a cold."

"Thank you Master for your pity." Yue Wuhuan responded softly as soon as he was sure that he was not toying with him. He clutched his clothes tightly. For some reason, he suddenly remembered that when he first entered Golden Phoenix Manor, he was forced to take off all his clothes and was reduced to being a plaything.

Now, this seemingly deceptive man had personally helped him put on his clothes piece by piece, as though he were trying to convince him of something. . .

Because the medicated bath had been interrupted, the effect had not been fully achieved.

Song Qingshi busied himself adding water to the medicine tank and re-adjusting the temperature.

Yue Wuhuan sat quietly on the ground watching him work for his sake, lost in thought. Suddenly, he later realized that the never-ending burning sensation in his body had died down. He moved his body slightly and was surprised to find that the sensitivity caused by drugs had also greatly decreased, and the friction of the cloth was no longer causing him discomfort.

He tried to find an answer, but couldn't understand it. He finally plucked up the courage to ask, "Master, what is the purpose of the Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction. . .?"

"Huh?" Song Qingshi stopped and froze for a while. He found that he had again fallen into the scholar-tyrant's bad habit. His mind was moving too fast. He always felt that others would understand as long as he gave a name or an answer, regardless of whether others were following his thoughts or not.

Song Qingshi was a good academic who knew how to accept his mistakes and correct them. He reorganized his words several times in his mind and chose the simplest explanation, "Your body has been corroded by many drugs, so it causes great discomfort. The Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction can be used to remove the drug residues in your body. This medicinal bath needs to be taken five times, and the last two times will be taken with Muscle Generating Flower and Snow Toad Cake added to help repair the old wounds. When that happens, it might be itchy and uncomfortable but we can't use anesthetics. Don’t worry, you just need to endure that stage, and the body will return to its original state. . ."

Song Qingshi couldn’t bear to say it: Those people didn’t care about whether Yue Wuhuan lived or died. All kinds of aphrodisiacs were used uncontrollably on him, causing conflicts of various drug properties in his body and residual excess. If the drugs had continued to be used, he wouldn't have made it another few years.

"I was overdosed on drugs. . . Yes, they thought I was boring," Yue Wuhuan wrapped his clothes tightly around his frame, reluctant to let go. He hesitated for a long time but decided to control the unwillingness in his heart and explain clearly what Song Qingshi would figure out sooner or later. He was so confused that he once again forgot how he was supposed to address himself, "Master, without the medicine, my body will not respond to men. You won't be able to find pleasure in me. I-I'm not used to those things, only with the help of drugs. . ."

Song Qingshi interrupted his incoherent speech: "Don't do things that make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to be nice to me." The more Yue Wuhuan opened his heart, the more fear he felt. He was like a bewildered child, desperately saying, "I have nothing, the only thing I can give you is this body. . ."

Song Qingshi realized that he wasn't in a good emotional state right now and turned away. He knew he should do psychological intervention now, but the words in his heart that he had practiced thousands of times all disappeared the minute he opened his mouth. He couldn't say anything sweet and comforting. He was clearly extremely upset, but in the end, his thoughts could only be condensed into two words: "You have."

The Yue Wuhuan in his heart was the kid who had practiced his swordsmanship under the peach blossom tree, the boy who dreamt of becoming a cultivator with a mortal body.

The Yue Wuhuan he saw in his eyes was a soaring phoenix in the heavens, the brightest star in the night, but with its wings broken and covered in dust.

Song Qingshi walked step by step, firm in every step.

Yue Wuhuan tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling, and he wanted to retreat.

Song Qingshi squatted down on his knees and looked meaningfully into his eyes.

Yue Wuhuan felt that he couldn't retreat.

Song Qingshi promised word by word: "I will and return to you whatever you had before, and I will give you everything you want."

Yue Wuhuan's breathing became short. He still couldn't understand what this promise meant, but he understood the seriousness and determination in Song Qingshi's eyes. He asked carefully: "What do you need me to do?"

Song Qingshi asked: "Don't try to commit suicide again, okay?"

Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time and finally nodded.

#mistakenly saving the villain #mistakenly saving the villain translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

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missysvault · 3 years

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Playing with Food

Summary: “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” It’s Halloween and you want to watch your cheesy movie marathon in peace. Missy has other ideas.

Warnings: NSFW. Blood is mentioned, it’s present in a sexy way, but also serves a functional purpose on account of Missy being a blood-sucking creature, MIHOW

Word Count: 2970

A/N: Yes I know it’s mid-November.. Yes you’re still getting this vaguely October themed fic, I just wanted to write Missy as a vampire

The TARDIS should not be as dark as it was. Usually it was well-lit and easy to navigate, sympathetic to your poor sense of direction. Tonight though it wound endlessly and you were sure you were lost; you hoped someone would find you before you got in too deep. “Poppet, what are you up to all the way back here?” So this was her fault. The tone of Missy’s voice told you there was no way she’d just innocently come across you. Sometimes when she wanted a captive audience she’d get you so disoriented you had to rely on her to get back to a familiar area- it happened at least once a month.

“If you wanted to play hide and seek, I would’ve liked to be told first.” You turned to face her, but she was much closer than expected and you stumbled back against one of the many doors on the wall. She was on you in a second, arms boxing you in on either side; you were a little taller than her, but she was by far stronger. Missy had you in her grasp as soon as she’d laid eyes on you. Her teeth shone in the dark hallway, just barely reflected with the wall-mounted candlelight. Of course, she’d bother you on Halloween with her hunger, how appropriate. “Moreso, just ask if you want to bite me.”

Missy’s face dropping into an exaggerated frown, making a disappointed noise. “Oh you’re no fun. Fine, let me bite you.” She said it matter-of-factly, not even bothering to make it sound like a request. If she was quick with it, you wouldn’t have minded, but theatrical as she was, Missy was determined to always make a long show of it and tonight, for once, you had plans.

“No, Missy, I’m busy.” There was a movie marathon calling your name tonight and being late was not on the agenda. In a moment of boldness, you tried to escape her cage, but to no avail. One strong hand shoved you brutally back into the door, the heel of her palm digging into your abdomen with so much force you knew she was bruising you. “That hurts-“

“And being rejected hurts. We’re in the same boat.” She was being a child, most likely because she hadn’t eaten in a while. She did look a little bit more pale than normal, but her strength was clearly still present so it couldn’t be too bad, still enough to make her irritable. “I am letting you live here even though you’re no help to me,” Missy stepped forward, pressing her body to yours and sandwiching you between her and the door, “The least you could do is help me once in a while.” Her fingers ran over your neck, checking your pulse, all the while staring deep into your hesitant eyes. How dangerous she looked shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was and yet...

You sighed, trying to play off much cooler than you were. She’d never hurt you out of malice, but what she was capable of always stuck in your mind whenever the two of you butt heads. “We both know that’s untrue.” Missy wouldn’t let you touch anything critical without supervision if you’d tried, but she enjoyed your presence and so did the TARDIS. She was the one to ask you to stay. “Would you like to come watch cheesy 80’s Halloween movies with me, Missy?” Maybe you could distract her long enough to get through a film or two if you held out long enough. Your arms wound around her waist despite her hand still painfully pinning you to the closed door; sometimes a hug softened her for a short moment. The bared teeth grin on her face no longer scared you for things such as this; she had the complex of a small dog.

“What I would like is to mark up that pretty neck of yours.” Missy’s gaze fixed to your throat, seemingly entranced, slowly moving forward until her mouth was at the base of your neck. Her tongue marked out the exact spot she sought to feast on, she did bite, digging into your skin until you were whimpering, helplessly caught between her and the door, but you never felt the sharpest of her teeth. “I could've been done by now.”

“You wouldn’t unless I say you can,” you wheezed, clinging to whatever resolve you had left. Determined as she was, she’d bide her time until you gave into her willingly. It tastes infinitely sweeter that way, Missy always claimed. You didn’t know if that were true, but it certainly gave you some leeway in persuading her to wait.

Missy pulled away, her face still too close to be read properly, but the challenge was clear on her face, “Yes I would.” This back and forth game amused you; maybe you could have more fun than just your traditional movie night alone. It was Halloween after all, some new entertainment would be a treat. Missy faltered for a split second and you gave one good push back against her and thankfully, her hand eased long enough for you to move more freely.

“No, Miss, you wouldn’t.” Hand fully out of your stomach, you pushed off of the wall with Missy still in your grasp. With a small kiss pressed into her hair, you released her and took a few steps backwards down the hallway until you were a safe distance away, not daring to break eye contact with her. “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” You were being braver than usual and you didn’t know why, perhaps the late hour made you more ambivalent to Missy’s threats, but why she was letting you get away with it was a bigger mystery. One thing you loved about Missy is how plain emotions read on her face. It took awhile for her to open up to you in such a way, but now you could read her like a book and when her expression mellowed from irate to complacent, you knew you had her for at least a bit. “Is it a movie then?” She stalked past you without a word and you followed, knowing she’d find your room faster than you could.

You only expected to watch one movie with her; she wasn’t obligated to watch an entire marathon deep into the night, especially with how harshly she judged them. “Why is she running towards the lake?” You sighed and slumped down, resting your head on her chest. Missy was nice enough to insist you lay on her while you two binged the constant stream of cheesy 80s horror and you certainly weren’t one to ever protest that.

“Why are you still watching if you’re so upset?” It wasn’t that the movies were good, per se, but they were in season and you watched them every year, just for tradition. Usually it was a solo activity, free from criticism, but this year you’d spent more and more time with Missy and after your latest harrowing adventure, she’d convinced you to stay aboard the TARDIS with her a while longer and before you knew it, October was upon you. You’d missed out on a lot of things this year for her, but this was one event you could still enjoy and you thought sharing this with her might be nice. “No one’s forcing you here.”

Missy groaned, her head hitting the headboard as it fell backwards. “I can’t spend time with my little human? I didn’t know how badly you wanted me gone.” Her hurt voice made you wary, of course you wanted her around. Hardheaded as she could be, you did love her.

“It’s not that, Miss, I just… watching these every year means a lot to me.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to the arm she’d draped over your chest hours ago, patting her soft skin lazily with a gentle hand. “I am enjoying watching them with you though, no matter how much you say you hate them.”

Missy huffed, but pulled you into her nonetheless, kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I don’t despise them��but they are taking your attention away from me.” She nuzzled her nose into your hair, calm and sweet as opposed to the young teens being slashed at on screen. Missy would never say it, but spending time with someone else was a big reason she’d asked you to stay; you’d heard her talking to the Doctor about how lonely travel could get, especially when gone for long stretches of time. You’d missed her when she set off for what was supposed to be quick, but ended up as five months and when she asked you to come with her again, you did, not wanting to chance losing her again. Watching dated horror movies wasn’t together wasn’t top on the list of things you’d expected to do while aboard, but you wouldn’t complain.

Once the third movie started though, it seemed all bets were off. It was innocent cuddling at first, giving you gentle squeezes every once in a while and whispering funny Jason Vorhees jokes into your ear whenever the film tried to be too dramatic, but she had ulterior motives. Once she judged your guard lowered enough, Missy slid her hand over your inner thigh, rubbing in small circles with her thumb in a way she knew all too well you had a weakness for. This was her game; she’d waited for hours until you were sleepy, effectively weakened from laying securely in her arms all evening, poised and ready for the perfect time to strike- and you’d fallen right into it. Asking her to sit through a movie she had no interest in, why would she ever agree. No, she was interested in you or really, what you could provide for her. The hand not poised for attack at your hips now held your upper body securely against her where it had once been a lazy, comforting hold and as you tried to push yourself up and wiggle away, you realized you were effectively caught. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a funeral, my darling.” Her mouth still rested behind the shell of your ear and you could feel her predatory grin as she slipped past the stretchy waistband of your loose sweatpants. “Now, I’ve indulged you in your little Halloween fun, I think it’s my turn now, don’t you?” Mostly you were mad at yourself for falling into yet another one of her traps; you thought you’d diverted her, maybe that she’d given in and that was your fault. It was all you could do to try and focus on the television, but even there teens were hiding away in a barn to make out despite the murderer still on the loose. “Maybe if I take you out to a secluded lake like them, I could have you all to myself. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You rolled your eyes noncommittally, much too distracted with how she was bunching your shirt into her hand, exposing your nipples to the cold air. “No, you only have me on a spaceship floating throughout the galaxy, too many other people to daydream about here.” Missy would drop you off in the middle of nowhere just to keep you to herself and the concept was way too appealing.

“And yet you wouldn’t give me what I wanted,” she tsked, grabbing at your breast and rolling the tight bud under the cool pad of her thumb. “How disappointing.” It was awful really, how quickly and efficiently Missy could manipulate you like you were her own treasured piano. Your friends, Bill especially, would laugh if they saw how easily you folded for someone you were so heavily warned about, but it was worth it. “And here I thought you’d be my good girl.”

“Missy-” She cut you off with a tug on the ear with her teeth, making you hiss. Movie all but forgotten, you wiggled under her, trying to shift your hips against her fingers to no avail, whimpering to an unsympathetic ear. She pinched hard at your flesh as a warning and you stopped squirming immediately. “Please? I’ll be good, promise.” You tilted your head to lock eyes with her, pleading silently for her to finally touch you properly and meeting only a borderline sadistic smile, you knew all was going according to her plan.

Her fingers went wandering down your abdomen, a gentle touch turned harsh as she scratched her blunt nails back up, leaving bright red lines and spotty drops of blood in their wake. “Pleasee, I’ll be good, promise.” Missy was mocking you, taunting your change of tune from earlier that evening; she did that when she was particularly unforgiving, mocked you for giving into her. “You, dear girl, are lucky that I’m so nice.” Not the word you’d use to describe being lured into a trap with short-term domestic bliss, but nevertheless, you shuddered when she grabbed you through your underwear and as hard as you thought about putting up a fight, the idea of just melting into Missy and letting her take you over for however long she wanted was so hard to resist. So you didn’t. “Open up for your mistress, dear.”

You did as she said, parting your legs to a sugar laced that’s a good pet that had you wetter than you’d ever admit and lithe finger slid past elastic fabric and over slick folds. “Don’t you ever get tired of getting exactly what you want?” It didn’t sound nearly as daring as you’d like, but it was all you could manage. A singular sure fingertip circled around your clit, teasing until your thighs twitched for her.

“Hmm..” Missy pondered, tapping her fingertips against you as you thought, “nope!” She slammed into you, two fingers deep, giggling at your surprised yelp as she stretched you with her curling digits. “Quite love it this way.” You bent your knees, planting your feet into the mattress for any kind of purchase against the sudden rapid assault below. There was no need for teasing tonight; Missy had you where she needed, now she wanted you riled and wanton, begging for her as soon as humanly possible and it wouldn’t take her long at all.

In a matter of moments you were breathless, on the verge of collapse, clinging to Missy’s legs on either side of you, aching for her presence to ground you even as she mercilessly thrust into you. “Missy, I am begging you, just please-“ She expertly wrenched every moan and cry you could offer her, reveling in the power she held over you, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Ooh, desperate now, are we?” Soft lips grazed over your neck, calm and cool where your blood pumped hot and fast, trying desperately to keep up. “Let me taste you and I’ll give you whatever you could possibly want.” You knew you were going to let her; it was a matter of when instead of if, especially as she held your orgasm in her hands. There was a pain that came with it, you knew from experience, but it was worth it for the thrill that came right after. Missy didn’t bite you often for your own good, she didn’t need to anyways, but when she wanted to, well, she always found a way. “I’ll clean up after, no mess this time.” Occasionally she left you bloody simply for the aesthetic of it all and you complained of ruined clothes and sheets, but honestly tonight you didn’t care either way.

Your nod was barely there, easily could’ve been mistaken for just a twitch, but she understood. With a reverent kiss over the hickey she’d made in the hallway hours before, sharp fangs pressed into the thin skin of your neck, piercing with the swift accuracy of a needle. It hurt just like you remembered, but Missy was shushing you before you could cry out, cupping your head with her free hand, thumb brushing over your flushed cheek as an implied I love you while she held you close against her mouth. You were coming before you realized, overwhelmed with the combined rush of endorphins from her bite and the orgasm she tore mercilessly from your body. It should be impossible to feel this blissful, possessed, and so deeply wanted at the same time and yet… You made a passing note to your future self that you didn’t know why you ever resisted this at all- but then you realized she was forever intent on taking every ounce she could from you before you passed out. “You’re going to kill me…”

She would never, not really. The first time you agreed, you were sure she’d quite literally bleed you dry, but she was careful, always in tune to when you’d given enough. Missy pulled away as you came down from your high, the dreaded sting on your neck promptly soothed over by her wet tongue. “Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. I could do a lot more.” And she could, but she loved you and you amused her so she wouldn’t. If you had more control you’d reach to kiss those blood red lips, but you felt akin to a pile of jelly and it was all you could do to hazily smile in her general direction. Thankfully, Missy was aware how ‘lovey’ you could be and pressed her lips to yours, granting you a purposely messy kiss. You could feel her grin before she pulled back, fingers also slipping from you and placing them on your lips. She tapped your wet, parted lips until you let her in, sucking on instinct. “Be a good girl and suck, maybe I’ll let you come again.”

#missy x reader #missy/reader #gomez!master x reader #doctor who imagine #the master x reader #yes hi hello I've written this and it's my first published reader fic #soooo #my fic.

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hiatus-for-forever · 4 years

Text

Hitoshi Shinsou x Neko?Reader

Summary: Shinsou’s crush is tricked into eating something that turns her into a half-cat half-human

A/N: If you know where I got this idea and picture, we have to talk. So I was supposed to post this 2 days ago and I thought I did but I found it on my drafts and checked my acc and it wasn’t posted

Qurik: Not specified

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, cursing, lack of Bakugou

WC: 1,346

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Wednesday when the group started scheming. The Bakusquad had been trying to help you and Shinsou get together, as pushy supportive friends do. You weren’t really part of their squad, you hung out with the casually and did so with the Dekusquad, and with everyone else. You were more of a social butterfly, spending time with anyone you felt like.

Which is why you befriended Shinsou. You lost your way one day looking for the teacher’s lounge to give papers to your advisor, Aizawa. You went to the first person seemingly heading to the same direction as you and asked them for help. He was the guy. He questioned you if you knew who he was, assuming you knew he had a brainwash quirk. You said no, you were to busy preparing for your battle to watch his and Deku’s.

You and he got close, everyone cheered him on but no one could lie that they were completely comfortable with him, and he could tell. You, on the other hand and quite a few people in Class A, were not afraid of him whatsoever.

Even so, you were the kindest person he met. You would actually go out of your way to find him to eat lunch together, you would invite him to hangouts, often you being the one he stays with a lot during those. You were also pretty. Very pretty. You had received confessions before from other guys but turned them down. You were holding out for someone, you didn’t know who, but it was fairly obvious to everyone all around.

Everyone could tell you were in love with Shinsou, except for you and him, obviously, and they made it their mission to get you two together. You didn’t know why you were in love with him, I mean, you didn’t know you were in love with him, but still. Maybe it was his kindness towards you, reflecting yours to him, or maybe it was the general way he treated you. His comfort when you’re going through a rough time, or how much he radiated safety, you loved to be around him. You also trusted him with your life, he has never used his quirk on you without permission and when he did it was always jokingly to steal your snacks. It was never a big deal.

He loved you for the same things. You were one of the first people he met who trusted them fully. You two got along really well, only having fights when t’s about each others health or grades. You two were protective of each other as well, he often got jealous of all the men confessing to you and you would scold him if he slept too late. He found it endearing because it showed how much you cared for him.

Anyway, this Wednesday your friends were plotting a scheme. There was a new product being sold in a bakery exclusive to Musutafu, it was a quirk-infused cookie that could temporarily make you part-human, part-animal. It came with a wavier that you have to sign and it would last 12 hours. There are cookies to make you part dog, cat, bunny, and even panda. It was also pretty expensive, it cost the same as a pack of cookies but instead it was only a small square cookie.

Yaoyorozu was the one who bought it as a favor to Ashido and she and Kirishima planned it and asked the group to go along with the plan. They explained that they would invite you on a hangout and you would obviously bring Shinsou with you and they would make an excuse for you to eat the cookie and you would turn into a cat.

“Wait why a cat?” Kaminari asked

“CUZ! Shinsou likes cats and we’ll force him to take care of Y/N” Ashido explained

“How do you know he likes cats?” Kaminari asked, not paying attention to anything

“Y/N talks about him all the time” Yaoyorozu sighed, “Anyway, this should be enough for a cookie” she said, handing them bills from her wallet

They all thanked her with a promise of telling her how it goes before leaving and perfecting their plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday eventually rolled around, you got Shinsou to join you and the group and you all were on a train to wherever the next stop is. You sat next to Shinsou, him not as familiar with this group of people as he is with Midoriya’s. He looked over your shoulder as you scrolled through Twitter, looking at the shit that was on your feed. You both snickered whenever you saw something funny, only fueling the determination your group had to set you two up.

The train stopped moving at one point and both of you had gotten up. You held his wrist, not to letting him stray away as he did once before, and guided him to the exit. You all left the train station and went to the closest cluster of food stalls and vendors, hoping to find food and stuff to look at or even waste money on.

You and Shinsou walked together ahead due to your constant pulling. You went to every stall, guided by the smell, and looked at other cute stuff to buy, dragging Shinsou along with you. The group behind you went to enact the scheme, knowing how Shinsou’s eyes were glued to you as you moved about, cheerful and full of energy contradicting the tired demeanor you held toward the end of the weekdays. He looked at you with so much adoration his eyes could turn into hearts.

When you had the idea to go look for a restaurant to have lunch in, you had lead the group to a space with less people, stopping at the front of a sushi place. Ashido had pulled the cookie wrapped in plastic out of her bag, before jogging lightly to catch up to you.

“Hey Y/N, I saw this as a free sample and I thought you missed it, do you want it?” she asked

She knew you loved getting free samples, because of course you do. You thanked her and unwrapped the cute cookie. It was a small square with a cute cat design on it. You immediately stuffed it in your mouth, wondering why the group was just standing around. The cookie tasted strange, it was sweet like a normal sugar cookie with the royal frosting on top but there was an underlying bitter and somewhat fishy taste.

Before you could ask you felt something weird, you felt your ears shift and you’re hearing had sharpened, your vision had changed too, it was weird. Some shadows had become lighter, as if they weren’t there, and reds looked more like greens as purples had dulled to blues. An unknown weight was felt in your lower back as you felt something on your body. Nothing was on your legs or arms so you didn’t know where your new limb was.

You were gonna ask what the hell they gave you before your hands started to tingle. Your wide eyes went to your hands, they had fur all over and contorted to be smaller and... cuter. They were paws. Oh shit. Finally you felt the same tingling sensation on each side above your lips, knowing that these were probably whiskers.

“THE FUCK” you exclaimed

Your group was all excited though, “Woah, it worked!” and “I haven’t seen that” was tossed around

Your eyes went to Shinsou’s, who was also as shocked as you were, “Did you know about this?”

“No, what the hell happened to you?”

“She turned into a cat!” Ashido said excitedly

“The fuck did you give me?” you said in a normal volume not liking the loud sound

“It was a cookie that made you into a cat-person! It lasts 12 hours!” Sero explained

“12 hours? I’m screwed” you said

“Oh yeah and you should start acting like a cat soon too” Kaminari added

You exhaled exasperatedly and looked at them with tired but mad eyes, “Ugh let’s just eat our lunch before any of that happens”

You walked inside and got a booth next to the window, you sat next to Shinsou a little closer than needed with a gap that separated you and Kaminari. Shinsou sat next to the window, the quietest option available, with Ashido in front of him, Sero, Kirishima and Bakugou next to her in that order.

Your sense of smell had actually gotten stronger and you could sniff out the scent of Shinsou’s cologne, which is probably why you sat so close to him. He didn’t complain though, he was enjoying the lack of space between you two, deciding to not let the opportunity slide, he just let it happen. He loved being this close to you anyway, he liked seeing the twitch of your nose and the small smile that played on your lips.

The moment was cut short by the waiter coming to take your order, Shinsou was too busy staring at you and you were too busy sniffing him (not in a weird way), so you had just fumbled and ordered the first item you saw on the menu. It was salmon sashimi, nothing you hadn’t tasted before so you wouldn’t have to worry about not liking it. Shinsou ordered the same thing, slightly panicked and unprepared.

You had turned to Shinsou, talking about the stupid things these guys do including turning you into a neko. He had, in turn, complimented the soft paws, admitting they were cure and pressing lightly on the soft pads that had triggered the claws and caused them to pop up. You did admit it was kinda cool, you could hear better and your senses were hightened. In exchange the color’s were a little weird and your pants had to be pushed down to let the tail out.

The light chatter continued until the food came and only then did you realize the problem. You tried to pick up your chopsticks but it took both of your paws to keep them from falling, and even so, you couldn’t manipulate it to pick up food. Everyone had noticed but no one wanted to help you, “Hey can someone help?” you asked, annoyed

Everyone just looked down at their food and at each other, making it known that they were ignoring you. You huffed, trying again to pick up the pair of chopsticks, but before one could fall from your paws Shinsou had gotten them from you, using their to bring a piece of salmon to you lips. You muttered a ‘thank you’ as someone finally decided to help and let him feed you, taking the piece into your mouth.

He placed your chopsticks down using his own to eat his food. It wasn’t until you had asked him to feed you again did he comply, putting a piece to your mouth, not noticing how Ashido had snapped a picture of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your group were back on the train, it was almost empty except for the seven of you. The time spent on the outing had been cut short due to your angered demand to go back to the dorms. You sat next to Shinsou, the rest of the group across from you because you were mad at them. You had latched onto his arm all day out of instinct and you enjoyed it, tail going side to side, despite being infuriated with you other friends.

He kept touching your whiskers curiously, coming back to tickle them even as you swatted his hands away. Your nose twitched in annoyance as his fingertips came in contact with the sensitive whiskers again, you sighed, “Stop” you whined.

“I thought you liked that,” he said, confused, “I’m tryng to cheer you up ‘cuz you’ve been grumpy”

“It tickles then it becomes itchy,” you explained, leaning your head on him and rubbing against it, both a comforting feeling and a slightly possessive one, as you felt the need to mark him with your scent

“Hmm,” he put a finger on hid chin, thinking of how to turn your upset mood around, “lie down”

You didn’t know why he would ask this off you, but still you complied. You lay your head on his lap, hyper aware of your friends’ eyes on you but paying no mind to it nonetheless. Shinsou held an obnoxiously long hoodie string over your head, you squinting for a second before getting the urge to disturb its still state.

You hit it with your paw making it swing. The momentum was too steady and slow for you so you hit it again, and again, and again, not letting it return to its resting form. Shinsou eyes you, pupils like thin slits as you glared at the string, toying with it adorably. The others watched bemusedly at your battle with the long hoodie string and this time, you couldn’t notice them at all.

It wasn’t until you heard Shinsou’s chuckle did your attention turn away from the dangling target. You looked at him, bewildered at your own actions. You then realized you were acting like a cat, your attitude and urges similar to theirs. You sat back up, glaring at the floor, “Damn, I am a cat now.” You looked back at your friends “How long did you say this lasts?”

“Twelve hours” Shinsou replied from beside you.

You groaned, “Is there something else I can eat to reverse this?”

Ashido looked slightly guilty, she thought you would enjoy this more and to think she made you upset made her upset. “Why do you hate t anyway? It’s not thta bad. It’s actually pretty cute” she chirped, “other than the fact you’re more territorial now”

“Am not!” you snapped

“Yes you are! You won’t let anyone get near Shinsou!” Kaminari objected

“That is not true!” you said back

Ashido sauntered over to you and Shinsou “If it’s not then you wouldn’t mind if I claim this, would you” she tilted Shinsou’s head up and leaned in close

“What are you doing?” Shinsou whispered, a scowl on his face

You looked at them, mortified. Ashido noticed the change in your expression and her eyes widened. With her reflexes, she instantly moved back to doge your claws, barely, as you were able to slice of a few strands of hair. Your growling had effectively made her back off as you straddled Shinsou’s lap, closing your eyes with a slight frown and crashed your lips onto his.

Ignoring his yelp as you pulled him closer, kissing him harder. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as you grinned at your new claim. Once you pulled away you buried your face in the crook of his neck, rubbing your scent glands around his, making a silent promise, ‘You’re mine’

#shinsou #hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinso #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #shinso fluff #shinsou fluff

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mythicalsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

A Very Special Trip (T)

This Gift is for: Cyrene (AKA @killthenaughtyboy) Summary: Rhett reflects on the past as he and Link travel and enjoy each other. Learning to be a couple is easy when you’re living the van life. Hi! I’m glad that I got to be your Secret Santa this year. I hope you enjoy this little gift fic that I wrote for you. I tried to incorporate several of the things on your Niceties list, including van life, fluff, a dash of angst, and a sprinkle of fancy panties. I tried really hard to write some smut for you because I know that that was at the top of your wishlist, but unfortunately, smut is not a strong spot for me, and it just didn’t work out in the end. Sorry for any tense errors. I usually write in past tense, but I decided to try something different for this fic. Wishing you a very happy holiday season and new year! From your Secret Santa, Kale (AKA @unsealingkale)

Link to AO3, or read below:

Link looks up into the early morning light, his chin tilted to the sky as he watches the fluffy white clouds drift by far overhead. Rhett has never seen anything quite so beautiful as the other man, and he makes a point to let himself focus on the thought and the feelings attached to it. There is no shame attached to those thoughts and feelings anymore. No guilt or fear. No need to immediately try to force the thought away. Instead, he lets the thought soak into his skin like the sun. Link is beautiful. He loves Link, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s good. It’s perfect. It’s right.

“Look, it’s a lemon,” Link says, pointing up. Rhett turns his gaze to the sky and quickly finds the cloud in question. It does indeed look like a lemon, round with slightly tapered sides.

“Pretty sure that’s a lime,” Rhett says, just to tease Link. He gets the expected displeased hum and frown in response. It makes him smile.

“It’s way too big to be a lime,” Link insists.

“When is the last time you saw a lemon as big as that cloud?” Rhett counters.

“Okay, fine. It could be either.” Link lies down on the picnic blanket and sighs dramatically, but Rhett knows that he’s not really mad. The shade tree nearby casts shadows on his face. He’s beautiful like that too.

“Nah, you’re right. It’s definitely a lemon,” Rhett agrees. He spreads himself out on the blanket beside Link, careful to avoid the sticky spot where Link had knocked over the bottle of maple syrup half an hour ago. Sharing a pancake breakfast under the dawn sky had been a new experience for both of them, but that was kind of the point. Living the van life has brought them a lot of new experiences. Good ones, mostly, as they learn how to be a couple instead of just best friends.

Rhett digs both of his heels into the grass, far too tall for the blanket. He takes Link’s hand in one of his own, entwining their fingers and settling their hands between their hips. Link turns his face to smile fondly at Rhett. “Love you,” he whispers, and squeezes Rhett’s hand.

“Love you too.” It still doesn’t feel weird to say it like that, without qualifiers. It didn’t even feel weird the first time. It just feels right. Like something they should have been saying all along. He leans over and kisses Link’s cheek, belly warmed by the happy sound he makes in response.

They watch the clouds for a while longer, until Barbara starts barking to let them know that she’s awake and ready for her own breakfast. They go feed her and Jade, and then take them for a walk beside the river. Link suggests that they go for a swim. He bends down to touch the water and shrieks at how cold it is. “Like liquid ice,” he swears, tucking his hand into his pocket. He shoos Rhett and the dogs away from the riverbank like a worried mother hen.

They spend the rest of the morning exploring the wooded park, playing tag and hide and seek along the jogging trail like they are children again. Rhett has never been happier. He’s thankful that Link talked him into going along on this trip. Sharing the tiny bed isn’t even so bad because now he can give into his desire to pull Link into his arms at night instead of trying to maintain some modicum of personal space. The first morning of their trip, he had woken to find Link stretched out halfway on top of him like some kind of living security blanket, still sound asleep. He had lied there in the semi-darkness and cried because he finally got to hold Link like he had always wanted to hold him. This trip was healing them both, replacing bad memories of trading heated kisses in their college dorm room and then pulling away, Link crying and begging while Rhett swore that it was all just a big mistake and he didn’t really mean it. It had never been a mistake. Now, at long last, he could erase those images of Link’s tear-stained face from his mind and replace them with ones of Link smiling with pink, kiss-swollen lips, his eyes soft with love and warmth.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Link asks, as they begin to walk back to the van around noon, both shivering as a gust of wind suddenly drops the air temperature. Rhett looks up at the sky. The clouds have grown dark and heavy. How hadn’t they noticed sooner? He shakes himself out of his thoughts as Link bends over and picks Jade up, tucking her securely under his arm. She nuzzles into his chest. He gestures for Rhett to do the same with Barbara. “It’s going to rain. We’d better hurry.” There’s a pause. “Rhett? You’re being awfully quiet.”

“I was just thinking,” Rhett finally answers, as he settles Barbara against his chest. He picks up his speed back down the trail. It’s not too far back to the van, but he wants to stay dry if at all possible. He stops in his tracks when he realizes that Link isn’t beside him. He looks over his shoulder and finds Link frozen a few feet back down the trail. “What’s wrong?” Rhett calls, jogging back to him.

“You’re not thinking that you regret this again, are you?” Link asks in a tiny voice. The look of betrayal in his eyes makes Rhett’s heart plummet down into his stomach. “I mean, us? What- what we are now?”

Rhett can’t bear to do anything other than engulf Link in a one-armed hug as soon as he reaches him, careful not to jostle the dogs too much. “No! I was just thinking about how much I love you, and how stupid I was not to be honest about it sooner. I will never, ever regret this, Link. I never did.” They’ve talked it out several times, but the doubt is still there. Rhett knows it will take time for it to fade completely, and he’s more than willing to give Link all of the time he needs. He pulls Link even closer and smooches his forehead loudly. He sighs when Link giggles, and then the clouds burst and they are standing in the pelting rain.

It’s freezing, but Rhett bends down and gives Link a kiss anyway, soft and gentle, full of promises that he will keep. Link leans up into it, tasting like pancake syrup and sunshine, and Rhett barely feels the rain. His heated lips melt against Link’s, and he wonders again why he let so many years pass between them when he could have been kissing these lips every day. Link’s shivers bring him back to reality. He breaks the kiss and grabs Link’s hand, tugging him along. And they’re off, jogging back to the van as the rain falls and the dark clouds swirl above them.

After they climb back inside the van and dry off a little, Jade runs to her bed and curls up for a warm nap, while Barbara snuffles around the mini-fridge and whines. Link snorts and pulls a dog treat out from the bag on top of the fridge, tossing it to Barbara. “Like daughter, like father. Bet you’re hungry too, huh?” He looks at Rhett, smirking. He’s still shivering a little, his thin t-shirt clinging to his chest, but his eyes are bright again.

Rhett pats his rumbling stomach. “I could eat,” he admits. What can he say? He’s a big man with a big appetite to match. It’s well after noon, anyway. Past time for lunch.

“Let’s get changed and then we’ll see what we can do about that,” Link says, with a soft smile. Getting dressed in the van isn’t always easy, but they manage to change into dry clothes without too much trouble. Link slips on one of Rhett’s oversized sweaters and turns on the heater so that they don’t catch a chill. They have a nice air conditioning system in the van that lets them stay warm or cool, and makes sure the dogs are safe and comfortable when they have to stay inside while Rhett and Link are out. It’s one of the best features of the van, along with the decent gas mileage.

They eventually settle on driving a little farther to reach the next town when the rain dies down, where there is a famous fried chicken restaurant that they have heard a lot about but never had the chance to try. There is no wait thanks to the fading storm. They slide into the booth side-by-side, like they always do, knees touching, and look over the small menu. Link rests his head on Rhett’s shoulder while they wait for their food, and Rhett lets more good feelings wash over him as he takes comfort in the touch. Link is his boyfriend now. His boyfriend is pressed up against his side, breathing softly. His boyfriend. That fact is still new, but the love he feels isn’t. He wraps his arm around Link’s shoulders and hopes that Link knows how proud he feels to be his boyfriend out in public.

Rhett eats his own meal, two pieces of fried chicken and a pile of mashed potatoes and biscuits, and then he starts working on what’s left of Link’s chicken sandwich and fries. Link shakes his head but pushes his plate closer to Rhett. “Go oo. I’m full,” he encourages. “You know, I’m going to have to buy a lot more groceries when you move in. You’ll eat me out of house and home if I’m not careful. It’ll be like our dorm all over again.”

Rhett knows that he’s teasing, but he blushes anyway. Then he realizes what Link said and looks up at him. Link’s own cheeks are pink, making his eyes seem even brighter than usual. “You want to live together?” Rhett asks. He had suggested sharing a home to save on bills when they had first moved out to California, but Link had quickly shut the idea down. Rhett had tried hard not to think about why, but his gut knew all along. Link didn’t want to go through the torture of living with Rhett and still being just friends, like they had done in college.

“Well, yeah. I mean, if you want to. I think it would be nice.” Link shrugs like it doesn’t really matter, but Rhett knows that the gesture is anything but casual. Link is nervous, asking something important and special.

He drops his voice low and leans to whisper in Link’s ear. “I want to. Want to be close to you all the time. Want to kiss you whenever I want.” He kisses the soft spot below Link’s ear. “We can figure it out as soon as our trip is over. I’ll break my lease for you.”

Link grins bright enough to light up the whole restaurant. “Good.”

“Good,” Rhett echoes, and tosses the last two greasy fries into his mouth.

The meal settles on his stomach like lead bricks, so he insists on stopping at the next rest area for a nap while Link takes the dogs out for another short walk. It feels good not to be bogged down with any obligations for the time being. To be able to lie down in the middle of the day and close his eyes while he digests if he wants to. He dozes off and then wakes, briefly, when the bed dips and Link joins him, curling up next to him on the tiny bed. Rhett wraps his arms around Link’s middle and spoons close. Touching Link casually like this still feels like a small miracle. It’s something that he had wanted for so long, but always denied himself. He slips one hand up inside Link’s shirt just enough to feel the soft, smooth skin of his stomach, and dozes back off to sleep, surrounded by comfort and warmth.

The rest of the day passes slowly, spent driving to the next big destination on their list. Link has always wanted to go to stay at this little campsite they had passed while traveling before, and now seems as good a time as ever. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s nice and well-kept, and is surrounded by thick woods.

They pay for a spot for two nights and settle in for the afternoon. They watch a silly movie on Rhett’s laptop and laugh at how it reminds them of some of their own childhood antics. Link insists on salad for dinner, tired of the day’s rich meals. They walk the dogs again, and then they each take a long, warm shower at the camp’s public bathroom. Link does a couple loads of laundry as well. They make it back to the van just as night finally settles over the campsite.

“Feels good to be clean and have clean sheets,” Link says, as he sits down on their bed and pulls his legs up, crossing them in front of himself. Rhett sits down beside him. “I was getting pretty tired of bath wipes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Rhett agrees. The wipes were better than nothing, but it had been three days since they had last had access to a real shower, and they had both been feeling less than fresh.

“Hey, thanks for coming on this trip with me.” Link looks down and plays with a loose thread on his sweatpants. “I know you didn’t really like the idea. Especially with Christmas being so close and all. Can’t believe it’s tomorrow already.”

“I’m glad I came. You were right. We needed this time away to ourselves.” Rhett reaches over and squeezes Link’s shoulder. It’s hard to believe that their trip will be over in just a few days, after the weekend. “I wouldn’t have traded this time with you for anything. It’s been so much fun.”

“Yeah?” Link looks up, cheeks pink and eyes soft. Once again, Rhett thinks that he has never been more beautiful.

“Yeah. I’m so in love with you, and I’m going to tell you that every single day from now on. No more keeping secrets.” Rhett leans over and kisses Link’s cheek, feeling the flush of his skin through his lips. He nuzzles against Link’s cheek. “You’re so cute when you blush like that.”

“Hush.” Link shifts closer, his knee brushing against Rhett’s side. He brings one hand up to cup Rhett’s cheek. “I love you too. Never want you to doubt it.”

“I never have.” Rhett turns his head to press a kiss to Link’s hand.

Link smiles, showing his pointy bottom teeth. His blush grows even deeper, and he takes a deep breath before he speaks. Rhett waits patiently while he searches for the right words. “Hey, since it’s Christmas Eve, I have an idea,” he says, softly. “If you want.”

“What’s that?” Rhett asks. He’s up for anything, but the deepening blush on Link’s face makes him suspicious. He touches Link’s knee in support.

“I was thinking, maybe, we could do something a little special tonight. Since I’m dressed for the occasion and all.” Link looks away, down, anywhere but at Rhett’s face. He plays with the loose thread some more, twirling it around his finger.

“What special occasion needs a t-shirt and sweats?” Rhett teases.

“I don’t mean the sweats.” Link slowly unfolds himself and stands up, moving to face Rhett. He slips into the space between Rhett’s legs and takes his hands, guiding them to his narrow hips. He makes fleeting eye contact, nervous. “I mean what’s underneath. Go on. Look.”

Rhett slowly pulls down Link’s sweatpants, revealing a pair of red and white lacy underwear. He looks up at Link and smiles. “I see. This is very special indeed.” He tries to sound confident, but his voice almost breaks. They haven’t done anything beyond kissing yet, but here Link is, presenting himself, ready and willing, and Rhett will never turn him down. Not for anything.

“It can be an early Christmas present, if you want.” Link swirls his hips in a small circle between Rhett’s legs, showing off his fancy panties, as the sweatpants slip even lower down his thighs. It’s dangerously sexy, and Rhett finds himself growing aroused at the mere sight.

Rhett puts his hands on Link’s hips again, stilling him. “I want,” he breathes. “I definitely want.” He pulls Link closer, down into his lap. This present is very special, and he wants to savor it. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Can hardly believe this is real.”

“Me neither. Now go on. Aren’t you going to unwrap me?” Link giggles, and Rhett nods, and everything is perfect and as it should be.

They both enjoy the night, and the long life together that follows.

#mythical secret santa 2020 #rhink #rating: T #type: fic #submission

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oristromboli · 3 years

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 3

Chapter 3: Straw Dogs

Childe cocks an eyebrow, smirk barely melting into a snarl. “And what would you know? You stay behind the scenes while the rest of us do real work.”

Scaramouche's slow smile is poisonous and laced with contempt as he hisses, “You should know there is a Liyue saying that goes ‘Heaven and Earth are impartial, treating all creatures like straw dogs.’ When the sacrifices have fulfilled their purpose, they are discarded because there is no more use and care for such worthless objects. Didn’t dear Morax tell you of this philosophy himself, Childe?”

(Smut this chapter: Zhongli/Childe)

In your dreams, you hear maniacal laughter ring around you. Somehow the emptiness begins to oscillate, reaching towards you with endless gnarled limbs and bloodshot eyes that won’t stop watching. You back into a wall that wasn’t there before, unforgiving edges all but flaying the skin on your back as you try to escape.

They’re coming.

You turn and run. There’s a golden light beckoning you, so you urge your legs to go faster, but the light never gets closer. If anything, it grows more distant. This path will end in madness.

They’re coming.

You decide a new route to traverse before those twisted hands seize you. When was there water? Is it water? It grows thicker, warmer, rises to your knees, your chest, your throat. You can’t breath. You’re drowning.

They’re coming. And you’re alone.

---

You feel a hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake, fear seizing your throat in a silent gasp as you try to orient yourself. You’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe, you’re okay. When you look to your right, Aether’s golden eyes meet your own as he stands near your bed with the Seelie fastidiously hanging by his side. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his pupils are blown too.

Neither of you say anything as you open your blanket and he crawls in to join you, tucking against your side to hide his face. Each night spent chained to this world you witness a new side to Aether as he comes undone at the seams.

He and Lumine were inseparable. She shouldered all his secrets, as he did hers. When they rescued you that night so many centuries ago, you promised to safeguard the two of them while they covered each other. You did not need to know everything that happened between them and before your arrival, just as they did not ask for you to fill all the holes in their understanding of you.

This night – the night immediately after facing a fallen god’s wrath – you both hug each other tightly. Is this how it felt to be on the other end of the heavens’ sword? Though Zhongli left Liyue to fend for themselves as a test, you still cannot help but feel angry with the silence of your own people as you were both abandoned without care.

Realization dawns through that cracked armor about how broken you both feel without your divine powers. How cold without that eternal light, Lumine. What did she feel in her last moments, what hatred for the skies?

Still, this is enough. Sorrow needs a place to sleep, needs hands to hold its delicate shape and say it is alright. It is not always loud, nor sharp, nor clean. Sometimes, it just needs a place to rest until morning.

“I miss her,” he mumbles, barely audible above your own heartbeat.

“Me too.”

This is enough.

---

Xiao turns his head, heeds the all too familiar calls of a nightmare. Just call his name Aether, just utter it once and he’ll be there. When silence is all that greets him, Xiao instead follows that smokey trail until he comes upon the inn’s room. The fight with Osial is fresh in his mind, so he imagines the same must be said of Aether and yourself. Both of you hold the other tightly, blissfully unaware of the vigilante keeping watch.

Xiao wants to lean forward, to brush Aether’s hair out of his face and say it’s alright, but he refrains from encroaching more than he already is. Instead, the adeptus leaves an offering of herbs that relax the mind on the windowsill for their discovery.

When the morning arrives, Aether is the first to wake and finds the gift left behind. Even if there’s no name attached, he knows precisely who left it. A boyish smile breaks on his face as he leans out the window to smell the fresh air and, admittedly, try to catch sight of the adeptus. “Thank you, Xiao,” Aether murmurs with the full force of his sincerity, pure and golden. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but come to me whenever you can’t sleep either. Maybe I can sing you a lullaby.”

Do adepti even sleep? Aether shakes his head at himself, but he doesn’t stop smiling. He hopes that one day, the yaksha will take him up on his offer.

On the inn’s rooftop overlooking Liyue Harbor, Xiao’s heart flickers with hope.

---

Childe flexes his arm, raising his fist back and forth to test the ligaments and muscles. They work fine, but he still feels that dark electricity pulsing; in some ways, he feels as though he’s the marionette being strung along. The Foul Legacy Transformation always collects its toll, and each day Tartaglia fights, he fights to gain the strength to beat back that beast that lingers in his peripheral.

He wonders if each time he transforms, a bit more of his soul returns to the abyss, how soon the day will come that the Harbinger is dragged back. Though, if the Tsaritsa ever catches wind, he’s sure the ever-curious and macabre Dottore would become his new best friend. How nice. If that’s not depressing, he’s not sure what is.

“Childe,” Zhongli calls. He snaps out of his reverie and an easy smile slides back into place, fitting perfectly with his wayward good looks. The ex-god is staring at him, gripping his bowl of noodles and wielding his chopsticks with a deft precision Childe knows he’ll never achieve.

He wonders how many people have been killed by those hands.

“You appear lost in thought once more,” Zhongli rumbles, stare becoming more intense.

“Ah! Forgive me, I am just reflecting on my trip with Teucer. Took a bit out of me, ya know,” he replies, shrugging genially. Best not to dwell on the negatives. Though it took many long hours of meditation – he still remembers his frustration at just trying to sit still because who the fuck does that willingly – at Zhongli’s suggestion, no less, Tartaglia finds it easier to manage his impulsive thoughts before they follow the most practical (cynical) route. After all, he’s trained warrior and follows one rule: ‘Don’t let the enemy see you bleed.’

“I see.”

Well shit. Broke rule number one.

The pair are sitting at one of the tables at Liuli Pavilion at the god’s behest; it’s been a handful of weeks since the… incident, and barely one since Teucer decided to surprise him. They’ve met more often than perhaps the last months leading up to the fateful encounter at the Golden House, especially with Childe’s time in Liyue coming to a close within the week. Each spare moment is split between the Travelers and Zhongli. At first, Childe admits, he dragged the former Archon along to properly size him up, try to understand where exactly he fucked up his estimations of his character. Though he’s been called back to Zapolyarny Palace, Childe notes that the order recalling him does not say to stop observing Zhongli.

So he does just that. It’s for the Tsaritsa, he tries justifying to himself, nothing more than selfish curiosity. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Not for the first time, Tartaglia ignores this… intensity in his chest, burning traitorously bright and intense and passionate when he sees the god. Childe thinks back to his journey of how this came about: orders turned to curiosity, turned to attempted manipulations, turned to genuine fondness and betrayal and – and –

As though reading his thoughts, Zhongli puts down the bowl, his full attention on Tartaglia now. Great. “It is more than Teucer and your injuries. Did you truly recover?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m always getting stronger, remember?” Right?

Amber eyes narrow. “Did you recover?”

Ah.

“Mm, yeah, still trying to figure out how you managed to guess so easily that I would resort to summoning Osial to get to you.” They both know he’s lying through his teeth, but Zhongli thankfully plays along this time.

“To be fair, your character is straight forward.”

Childe laughs, bright and genuine for the first time this conversation. “I, Tartaglia, am the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui! The Vanguard of the Harbingers. How dare you say that I am so easy to read, when I have always been the first sent to initiate bloodshed, as according to our many long and boring schemes.” The last parts of his sentence fizzles out as his nose curls in distaste. Show no weakness. “Well, in any case, you know I never enjoyed that stuff anyway. Take it head on or don’t at all.”

Zhongli nods, understanding his meaning. Childe maneuvers his head to find amber eyes and raises his eyebrows, suggestive and giddy; he saw in Zhongli an intelligent man before, but now? Oh, oh! A battleworthy opponent. Maybe the god picked up on his not-so-subtle hints for a fight?

“I am still not going to spar you.”

Worth a shot.

“Ah, well, I tried.” Childe reaches for a pair of chopsticks and tries again. When both men watch as the Fatui manages to pick up a piece of meat without trouble, there’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, warm and nostalgic. It settles deep between them.

“You know…” Childe starts, looking at Zhongli, really looking at him, soft eyes reflecting something foreign in those ocean blues. “I appreciate your consideration for me. Really. You won, fair and square, checkmate and all. I hope to one day be able to manipulate the battlefield as excellently.”

Zhongli returns his smile, and Childe ignores the something that falls in his heart. “Understanding your opponents is half the battle, both literally and figuratively,” the god laughs, clearly amused at his own play on words. He joins in, if only to indulge the silly man.

Another silence. He looks around them and releases a deep sigh. Yeah, okay, he can admit privately that this is nice.

“Do you ever feel bad about it?” he asks suddenly, surprising them both. Now, where the fuck did that come from?

When he thinks of you, Childe feels something else, something cold settle beside his confusion, a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time. Guilt. Of course, his companion understands the unspoken implications, eyes falling to the ring Childe wears. Both men still remember vividly how violently you three reacted, all teeth and pain and fury bared. He has long since made peace with you, but…

He looks to the boats on the ocean, swaying back and forth, back and forth. His heart moves with them. Something feels unsettled, unsaid… A loose thread. Childe’s heart squeezes at that thought. Fantastic.

“I have no regrets,” Zhongli replies, tone firm and final, clearly choosing his words carefully and mindful for any straining ears. “I did what was best. Moves and countermoves. All things can be bargained in the end, and Liyue won its right to be independent that day.”

Blue eyes narrow. “Bargained? You mean bought?” He rolls the word around his tongue, tasting it. Yeah, no. Tastes like shit. “You think people can be treated like that so easily?”

Neither of them needs to say it, but both know of the lingering bitterness towards the Tsaritsa. Childe adores her attitude of achieving harmony at any cost, including war, but the underhanded nature of being used himself makes him feel less like a general and more like a pawn. Even there, in Liyue’s hot climate, is her frozen heart felt. However, Zhongli narrows his own eyes. “Are you not the leader of the Northland Bank?”

Childe scoffs and is the first to break the impromptu staring contest. “That’s different, people knew what they were getting into. They didn’t. I… I made a mistake and apologized, but still. It feels… Wrong. I feel wrong.”

“Because you feel as though you sunk to the Tsaritsa’s level?” Zhongli’s soft voice tugs Childe back into looking at him, and he immediately regrets it. Oh. Oh man. He’s very… intensely feeling something for this man. What is it? Everything and nothing. Fondness, yes, warmth, yes, but nothing of that garbage in those cheap romance novels his sisters love to read. Nothing… fuzzy, because truly no, that’s not right either, doesn’t feel right. Childe swallows and nods.

“Yeah,” he croaks. Wow. Really pathetic, but whatever, all pretenses are gone now between them. Right? “We’re good now, yeah? We’re being honest with each other? Have been? Will be?” Childe winces lightly at how quickly he rattled those off like he’s trying to reassure himself more than Zhongli. In a way, he is.

“We are, have been, will be,” the consultant responds, voice lighter and taking Childe’s heart with him.

“Cool.”

A beat.

“But you still didn’t answer my question. Do you really think of us mort- people so low?”

Something else emerges, not unfamiliar when he thinks of the god. Frustration, irritation. Nothing new, but again, not right either.

Zhongli tilts his head, not unlike a cat with golden pupils in slits. Ah, he’s cute, cute in the same way the furry little creatures are before they leap at their prey. The god rolls his head briefly like he’s trying to shake his own thoughts out, untangle them.

From what?

“Do you wish for my response as a mortal, or as my… previous station?”

Ah. Choosing between which face to use. Tartaglia understands this intimately and finds another piece of common ground to stand with the old god.

“Both.”

“Mortals fascinate me, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I am afforded the luxury of… Walking as one. Experiencing life as they do.”

“Wait wait wait wait – “ Childe is shaking his head and holds up his hands. “You say that as if being… you is so different. Is it?”

“In a way, it is,” Zhongli nods. “As someone of my age, knowing of the limitless future, there is no need to attempt to comprehend anything beyond the next battle, the next project for my people. What time wounds will be mended by time once more. If we are being honest –“

“We are.”

“I never cared for understanding the inner workings to life. I could not during those days, I stood as the stone shield to protect my companions. Instead, I faced my problems head on, relentless and straightforward and precise. Actions and emotions were separated; one could not reflect upon the other during times of conflict.”

Childe huffs in a half-hearted laugh. He always pitied the unfortunate souls caught in Zhongli’s spear. “I think I’m starting to see your point Zhongli. Our once-gentle Tsaritsa understands this reality intimately, especially now that she declared the world her enemy to achieve peace.”

“In essence, for the Cryo Archon believes gentleness and humanity to be weaknesses these days.”

“I hear a ‘but’ somewhere in there, though.”

“My friend… Guizhong, she… She understood mortals, encouraged me to watch them and learn, sought for me to unlock what she claimed was true strength. Many weaker gods have passed, their spirits barely a whisper and their memories all but forgotten. Stronger deities, such as Osial, will never truly depart but just slumber for the opportunity to rise again. Even some Adepti linger if they do not choose reincarnation. So then, what did she mean by ‘true strength’? I did not understand.” Zhongli’s voice cracks briefly, so Childe’s hand reaches across the table to grasp the other’s. He offers a comforting smile, a rare sight on a Harbinger’s face, but he regards Zhongli as a truly rare companion worthy of his undying loyalty.

Zhongli returns it and Childe’s heart flutters. He knows that he’s just a mortal, what can he do to protect the God of War? Still, if he can at least stave off some of those bad memories, then it’s worth it. The man rubs slow circles on the god’s hand to ground him to the present.

“As the years passed, I observed. In the end, we are all the same. I have found that a singular purpose guides each individual and drives their spirit to fight, to linger, to be born anew and try again. Understanding that guiding desire is the key to establishing proper contracts.”

“Mm, so, basically, there’s an order to life?” he responds, poking fun at Zhongli’s motto to lighten the atmosphere. Childe’s shit-eating grin grows wide at Zhongli’s dry, unimpressed look that crosses his face. Still, there’s a hint of fondness and gratitude, if Childe squints hard enough. Hey now, he can’t be disappointed in the Fatui’s little jab considering the absolutely dad-styled joke he made earlier.

“Indeed. Gods, adepti, and people can therefore be bought. All things can, even an Archon’s gnosis. We are all equal in that respect.”

Childe nods and retracts his hand to stab a piece of meat with his chopsticks. Nothing threatening, he just needs a way to guide his thoughts. There must be some dubious psychology, though, in deciding his brain is the piece of meat he just committed casual violence against.

The Fatui can’t help but wonder if Zhongli is still missing the big picture in deciding that life can be simplified to a series of contractual choices, even if it eases the immortal’s pain of losing the things he values most over and over again. Then again, does Childe even know what that picture looks like himself? “I get debts, but this feels different, y’know? I understand the value of connections and people more intimately than most, but… People aren’t things. You can’t completely own them for the sake of having them.”

(Morax, the glaze lilies around him whisper, you cannot hoard people.)

“Then,” Zhongli says, ignoring the voices of times past, “What do you call your collection of these valuable people?”

Childe laughs, full and bright and roguish. “Give and take, my friend! Give and take. All things must be equal in the end as you said yourself, no?”

---

“Why him?”

The Tsaritsa’s icy gaze pierces his own, and Zhongli’s lips quirk up, the only indication of any betraying thoughts lurking behind that stony visage.

They both know he allowed her to the courtesy of witnessing it.

“Your other Harbingers all lurk within the shadows, but from what you describe, Tartaglia wields them like a weapon. He is a refined tool for chaos. No one else is mad enough to summon a long-dead deity.”

“Whatever I ask of my Harbingers, they will bring. Signora can summon Osial all the same. So, I ask again, why him?” Her eyes challenge him, demonstrating her confidence in front of the oldest of the Seven.

How arrogant of her.

“Two Archons already lay their claim on him, do they not? Vision and Delusion,” he replies.

“Moves and countermoves.”

“So why not him, Tsaritsa?”

Her biting laugh suddenly rings out, bouncing against the ice around them. “Morax, you are indeed cruel for nothing to escape you. Perhaps he is perfect for your plans, then, as malleable as that boy is. Very well. I will assign him to Liyue.”

Zhongli’s fists curl behind his back. So little regard for the mortals under her charge, so little care.

The Tsaritsa waves her hand dismissively. “It is merely coincidence that the boy is favored. He just embodies the valued qualities of our nations, I assure you. You will find him most agreeable.”

One eyebrow arches. “Whether I find him agreeable is irrelevant. As long as he fulfills his designated purpose, I am content.”

She looks at him, studies him. “Indeed.”

---

“Why him?”

Zhongli looks to Ganyu, curious and gentle eyes flickering between his. They stand on Mt. Tianheng, watching the harbor rebuild. It’s been a few hours since his lunch with Childe, and he agreed to meet with one of his most loyal – and oldest – friends afterwards. Ganyu is one of the few adepti who have, presently, seen him physically outside of gifted visions and dreams. He was always fond of her company, even if the young qilin has an unwavering habit of napping precisely when it was most inconvenient.

“You have taken many lovers over the years, participated in contractual commitment, as per customary of your gifts. Never with someone so impish, though. Why him?” Her questions are not frigid, imperial, challenging; no, she asks out of genuine concern and care for his wellbeing. Always the soothing soul.

He smiles at her. “It is because of his impish behaviors I find him so interesting.” Turning back towards the harbor, he pauses for a beat before continuing. “This is not the first time I have courted and taken lovers, and eventually, he too discovered my real identity. All of my lovers understood precisely who they were engaging themselves with.”

Her eyes follow his to the harbor, lost in thought. Idly, she reaches for some leaves in a silk flower shrub to her right, tempted to pluck its leaves to eat. A nervous habit. “Yes. But none were so disrespectful.”

Zhongli chuckles, rich and true, no longer burdened with maintaining appearances. “You are correct. His treatment of me did not change after learning of my identity, the first mortal to dare such behavior. No, he still treats me as his equal, not as a god. He cared for me at first as an enemy, but now, his heart pours generosity regardless of old wounds and without expectation of anything in return.”

Give and take. Childe is breaking his own rules once again.

Soft lips curl around your name, Ganyu’s questions endless now that it has been unleashed. “What of her? Why? She is the first immortal you have been enamored with since the glaze lilies wilted.”

Zhongli crosses his arms and closes his eyes, contemplating his answer. A distant and wistful expression breaks, though Ganyu cannot see it. “Because the Travelers are most curious beings. They have shared in burdens similar to my own, and I find it comforting to know that there are others who understand deeply what I feared to be alone in ever since she left.”

The waters of time have worn away his stone heart, and yet… He feels renewed, like spring has finally arrived after leaving him so many lifetimes ago.

“Celestia’s burdens are now put to rest, Ganyu. Where before I did not end my duties for fear of a lack of purpose beyond that point, I realize now that I am free to pursue what I could never have. Serendipity would have it that I have found attractive companions to walk it with. Perhaps this is her final trial for me.”

“But, Zhongli… She is not Guizhong.” The unspoken warning lingers in the air.

(Do not dishonor living company with the memories of those long dead.)

“I know.” Soft leather creaks as his fingers tighten.

(I won’t.)

She fears for her master’s softened soul, though she remains too loyal to speak.

Ganyu’s lips purse and she thinks once again of those reflective blue eyes, of Tartaglia’s fierce dedication to duty and love of battle, of how he cares only for the satisfaction of the next victory. She thinks of a younger Morax, tall and proud as he led their people to glory with jade shields and obsidian spears.

What, then, is Tartaglia trying to protect?

How interesting that this mortal mirrors so much of the deity before her; the birth of one, the death of another.

“The timing is interesting for your mortal paramour as well; do you not agree?” She hesitates, attempting to choose her next words with, perhaps, greater care than she does for the Qixing. “How she falls from the heavens, how he walks into your life now that you are free to explore it.”

Zhongli waves his hand dismissively before he catches himself. “Merely coincidence.”

Ganyu narrows her eyes this time. “You do not believe in coincidence.”

He doesn’t respond.

---

Ajax sits in his bed, flipping his dagger around and around, vulnerable and alone in his thoughts. The new moon gives way to a blanket of stars, distant but lingering nonetheless. When the man looks to his left, the chopsticks Zhongli gave him those many months ago rest undisturbed.

He grins then, uninhibited delight gleaming. “Well well well, anything can be mastered, right?” It’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep anytime soon with the way his mind races. Ajax groans as he reaches over to grasp the utensils and stands, stretching out the day’s stress.

He has time to prove Zhongli wrong, he can master these infernal sticks or he doesn’t deserve the title of Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. At the very least, he wants to eat a full meal with the man without resorting to just stabbing his food because that’s just downright pathetic. The Harbinger looks out his window again to the sky, a twinkle in his eye, before turning around, set on finding some leftovers to practice on.

The stars certainly appreciate the ensuing clumsy entertainment.

---

Another day, another meal. Come on, Childe tells himself, this is it, this will be the one-

The noodles slide out of his chopsticks’ grip, and he sighs, tossing his head back and running his left hand through his orange locks. “Pretty sure I’m just cursed at this point…”

He smiles when he hears Zhongli snickering with at least some decency to try to cover his mouth.

“You know, the Travelers have no issue applying themselves to those tools, so why do you?” Childe snorts, but only kicks the other under the table.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, you know,” he starts casually. Zhongli looks at him, eyebrow quirked, but a smirk emerges nonetheless.

“Oh? Is this another one of your jokes, Childe?”

He laughs, shaking his head with a mischievous expression to match. “Nah. It’s okay, you know, I don’t mind. Our little… Stress relief is not exclusive.” At that, Zhongli’s eyes narrow. He slowly leans forward and steeples his gloved fingers, resting his chin on them, deep in thought. Was it… Did Zhongli not believe him? “ ‘m being honest,” he says as he raises his hands in a show of peace.

“I know you are. Which is why I’m curious.”

Childe gulps, suddenly very aware of the scrutiny he’s put under. He has nothing to hide, but Zhongli’s boring into him like the man grew a second head. “About what?”

The god leans back and picks up his chopsticks, apparently having decided on whatever it is that Childe just blurted. He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders shake with contained laughter like he’s in on some inside joke, and oh, the asshole. “Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. About what?”

Amber eyes flick up at him, amusement just rolling off of him in waves. “About why you did not pursue her yourself. You are not the only observant one here.”

Whatever happened to don’t let them see you bleed? He winces and starts a plastic laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Why does the old man never pull any punches? “Ah, well, y’know…” A gloved hand waves around pathetically, trying to somehow grab the words out of thin air to explain for him. “She’s just so distant. And angry. And strong.”

“Like that ever stopped you. As a matter of fact,” Zhongli purrs, “I recall that exciting you.”

“Har har, just don’t go around telling everyone about my kinks, alright? Besides, we started this little thing of ours before that whole fiasco, but don’t get me wrong, this is just all pent-up tension. She isn’t afraid to fight me, like you. Gotta get my sick kicks somewhere else,” Childe grins, eyes daring the other to take the bait.

“Mm, I am not fighting you, comrade.”

“Damn it.”

“But you are simply proving my point, you never back down from a challenge. So why then?” Shit, he has a point. Why didn’t he? Childe only grunts and reaches for a dumpling, intent on trying again and thoroughly exasperated that Zhongli is just deflecting his own curiosity.

“You tell me,” Childe drawls, long and sarcastic. “I thought dear Morax always got what he wanted?” Zhongli sighs and closes his eyes, frustration bubbling forth. Yeah, okay, Childe was being immature, he’ll admit it. Zhongli can go screw himself though, the guy was being annoyingly spot-on.

“Funny how an equally possessive man accuses me as such. I suppose… it did not feel right to start something that is – as you describe it – ‘stress relief’ after the incident. Not with her,” Zhongli’s jaw tightens before he resumes eating, adamant at leaving it like that. Still, Childe nods sagely and without irony this time around. Yeah, that’s a good way to describe it. His feelings for you were no different than his own towards Zhongli, but it was also… Not the same. Your name tastes different in his mouth, left his heart twisting differently, tensing differently.

Otherworldly.

“Gonna have to wait for the bird to want to fly back into the nest this time around after we angered the Travelers, huh?” Yeah, ‘pretty bird’ is probably Childe’s greatest stroke of playful genius, the name seems to suit you in every way he can think of.

His companion grumbles something under his breath before gracing him with an indignant response. “Do you best understand these delicate matters only in terms of the bloody hunter and frightful hunted?”

“You got me there, Zhongli.” With a wolfish grin, he grabs the bottle of baijiu and pours a drink for himself. Oh, how he misses Fire-Water… Soon, Childe reminds himself, soon. “You were right that day, you know. I don’t like losing control over what’s mine. We always tried to win some battle with each other, and we knew what we were doing, even when it was playing the Tsaritsa’s game. The amazing sex was just another aspect to our business relationship in finding the enemy’s weakness.”

Zhongli snorts into his cup. “Do you sleep with all of your business associates?”

“Fuck off, you know you wanted it too. But her? Not all the bargaining chips are on the table. She keeps it pretty close to the chest, and I try not to walk into enemy territory blind. Not always successful though, obviously.”

Zhongli hums along. “You can guess what my next moves are now that you understand who and what I am.”

“Yeah, and at least Aether and the stir-fry have the decency of telling me what’s going on in their head by being obnoxiously loud about it,” Childe grunts. “Not her, though. Not really. I don’t trust her ‘openness,’ nobody shows their emotions that easily. Even blondie and his pet gremlin try to hide some things, but I recognize the way she looks at them when they do a poor job. It’s how she looked at me when I tried to lie to Teucer.” Childe’s nose crinkles fondly at the memory of the loyal knight’s desperate attempts to protect his brother. “I’d say it’s a fair bet whether she would kiss me or kill me first and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. But hey, adds to the thrill of it all.”

“Your masochism will be the death of you one day. Do you have a single care for your well-being? Truly?” Zhongli’s deadpan words are purely rhetorical because they both know the answer.

“Hey! I listen to the doctor when I need to.”

“Mm, and do you pull rank on this Fatui doctor as well?”

“Well, who’s keeping track anyway?”

The god only smiles, affection radiating from his being. “My friend, I treasure our conversations. I will surely miss them.” Childe smiles and laughs with him. He feels good. Yeah. Zhongli makes him feel good. What he feels is thrilled, excited, electrified, but most importantly, genuinely welcomed.

(Welcomed, accepted, cared for. His heart lurches. No right word can describe this, describe how the strange not-humans from Teyvat and beyond took him in without question.)

He’ll miss this too, he concedes without a shred of shame, even if it’s a bittersweet feeling.

“Now then,” Zhongli coughs, before looking back up with the gall to appear sheepish. “About paying for our meal…”

“Oh, fuck you.”

---

Childe’s knuckles rap against Zhongli’s door before pushing it open, pleased but not surprised as the door gives way without protest. He steps inside and removes his shoes by the doorway before padding down the hall, the smell of bamboo shoot soup permeating the hallways. When he enters the kitchen, he finds Zhongli sitting at the table with a bowl already in hand.

“Aw, you started without me?” Childe pouts but steps up to the table nonetheless. Zhongli huffs in amusement.

“I heard you walking up the steps and took the liberty of beginning.”

“Of course you did,” the other replies while rolling his eyes. They finish their meals in peace with little banter flowing between them. After all, both felt the weight of this last night together. As Childe gathers the dishes to place in the sink, he mulls over his own decision for coming over to the ex-Archon’s den. Lust pools in his gut and his selfish body wants to taste Zhongli’s skin one more time. That’s all it is. Pure lust.

As gloved hands slide around his waist, slow and easy, Zhongli perches his head on Childe’s shoulder and rumbles deeply, “Lost in thought, are we?”

He snorts and turns around, tugging the other closer so their hips are flush against each other. When he adjusts himself to a better position, innocent eyes blinking, Zhongli gasps as his own body bucks forward, looking for more friction. “Mm, just wondering what I’ll have to do to get you to show me your hoard, comrade.”

The other man grumbles, but it’s half-hearted and disguises the increases sounds of pleasure threatening to claw out of his throat. “O-Oh? And what makes you think this will aid your investigations?”

Childe flashes his teeth wickedly as he leans down to nip at the other’s ear, all gentle foreplay gone as he immediately bites hard enough to draw blood with his canines. Zhongli groans as he grabs the other’s shoulders, squeezing with force shy enough to break bone. “Don’t underestimate my tactics, comrade,” he purrs. Zhongli looks at him, eyes hooded and panting before he keens when Childe’s hand slides down to cup his half-hard bulge.

At the insistent whining, Childe leans forward and captures his lips, shoving the other forward and off of him. Zhongli grunts but follows his orders obediently as Childe maneuvers them to the bedroom before he sits down on the bed, yanking the former Archon by the tie to his knees. He falls and leans forward, begging for another kiss as his eyes keep staring at Childe’s plump lips. The man obliges and delights at the speed he’s given permission to explore. Fuck, who would’ve thought that Rex Lapis would be such a bitch when you kiss him right?

He pulls back and smirks at the shivering mess before him that shuffles forward to nudge Childe’s straining bulge and lick along the clothess concealing it. “Look at you,” Childe coos, “you’re so pathetic, you want my cock that badly, huh?”

“Y-yes,” Zhongli rasps and moans brokenly when Childe’s hands snake into his hair to pull him up off his knees slightly, his own hands grasping Childe’s thighs for purchase. When the Harbinger ups the ante by reaching his right hand down the other’s pants to grab his leaking cock, hard, Zhongli nearly shouts as his face twists in pleasure. “Please, Childe, more. I want more – “ His voice cuts off into another broken moan when Childe gives a few leisurely pumps, blue eyes watching the other wickedly.

“You want? Comrade, just what do you think an interrogation is? You don’t get to want anything,” he growls and retreats, suddenly letting go of the other. Zhongli’s eyes shoot open as he falls down again. Fuck, the way his chest heaves as his face is flushed with blatant desire threatens Childe’s composure. No, no, that won’t do, Zhongli doesn’t get to command him like this.

He curls his lips as his boot moves forward, gently rubbing at Zhongli’s erection. The sob that erupts is thrilling, and Childe’s lust-addled ego rears its ugly head when he notices the other gasping incoherent praises between breaths. “Please, please, please, do not tease me like this on your final night Childe, please. Forgive me, but I want your cock, I need it.”

Childe’s characteristic laugh bubbles forth as he clutches the other’s throat to silence him. “My, you’re agreeable like this. Did anybody ever tell you that you get to be so chatty when you want to be fucked? Pathetic,” he whispers, but a cruel pleasure unfurls as he watches Zhongli come undone with each degrading word. “You really like that, huh? Who else has talked down to the great Rex Lapis like this, hm? Answer me.”

“O-only you,” Zhongli gasps. “Only you.”

“Good.” Childe’s smile grows affectionate and he releases his grip before kissing the other again. It would be chaste if not for the insistent pawing at Zhongli’s clothes. “Strip for me.”

The god obeys, immediately tugging his own clothes off. Still, even in the throes of pleasure does he perform every action so meticulously, so carefully; he folds his clothes and places them on a nearby chair, and Childe’s heart flutters with fondness. Of course this stupid man would be so fussy during sex, of course. But that thought only sparks another – oh, by the Archons, he’s going to ruin this man and mark him for weeks after. Let’s see Zhongli deal with that problem.

Who even cares that the god can probably heal his wounds in minutes? If anything, that drives the warrior further in his madness to make the other bleed.

Zhongli stands before him, bare and glorious, his throbbing cock pink and leaking driblets of shimmering precum. He’ll never stop being hypnotizing with how the Geo energy refuses to be contained, permanently staining Zhongli’s arms with bronze and gold. All that power lurking beneath the surface…

Childe smirks and tugs off his gloves, tossing them to the side before he taps his thighs. “C’mere.” Zhongli submits – a little too eagerly, Childe thinks, where’s the fun in that – and straddles him again. When Childe’s right hand takes the other’s cock while he leans forward to begin teasing his nipples, Zhongli’s curls in on Childe and settles his head on the other’s shoulder, shivering with pleasure.

Childe nearly laughs when he realizes the image is not unlike a dragon coiling around its prey. Oh, but this one bites; the Harbinger’s teeth sink into Zhongli, drawing blood again. The wanton moan in response just sounds so delicious, and Childe matches his noises as he begins pumping in earnest. Zhongli’s begins grinding his ass into Childe’s bulge, and hey, that’s cheating. Childe is the one who’s doing the torturing here, damn it.

“Oh fuck,” Childe heaves, “I can’t take this anymore, fuck, where’s your oil Zhongli?”

Or not.

Yeah, okay, the man would be hot with embarrassment at how quickly he broke, but the way Zhongli croons and obeys just for him leaves him as desperate. When he rises to look for the oil, Childe stands quickly and begins stripping with the speed of a virgin teen about to get laid for the first time. A string of Snezhnayan curses is grumbled when his pants get caught on his ankles, but he when glances up at Zhongli’s chuckling with a fist curled in front of his grin, Childe only flushes further.

“Shut up,” he mumbles but grins along. Now free from his clothes, he grabs Zhongli’s wrist and tugs him back into the bed, kissing him all the while. The action is… Kind. Sweet, if Childe was being honest with himself.

But he hasn’t been truthful before, why start now?

When he leans back against the headboard and spreads his legs, Zhongli takes the cue to once again perch in his lap holding the bottle of oil in his hand. “Look at you,” Childe murmurs, pitch lowered but still rough around the edges, betraying a deeper hunger. “You look so good for me, presenting yourself like this.”

“What happened to the fearsome Harbinger just now?” Zhongli questions, mischief dancing on his face.

“Mm, good cop bad cop. Obviously being rough with the God of War wasn’t doing much ‘cept making me realize how badly I want to be inside you,” he states matter-of-factly before tugging Zhongli down for another kiss. When he takes the bottle and gently pries it open, he pours some on his fingers before placing the rest on the nightstand. Amber eyes watch Childe biting his lips, boyish eagerness shining forth.

Ah. Still so young, Zhongli thinks, and so cute.

That thought is interrupted when Childe leans forward and begins kissing along his abdomen, but characteristic of the Harbinger’s bloodlust, also peppers his skin with bruises and bite marks sharp enough to pierce the pleasurable haze in Zhongli’s mind. Cool fingers begin to gently prod between his cheeks, a silent question for permission which is quickly granted when his hands reach back to pull them apart for easier access. He feels Childe’s pleased groan beneath him as a single finger massages the muscle open before sliding in, and oh fuck, he missed this.

“H-haah, h-how are you always so tight?” Childe asks, taking his unoccupied hand to once again stroke Zhongli. He’s not entirely cruel, he’ll ease the other’s tension where he can. Whether or not it’s also out of selfish desire to see Zhongli unfurl around him, shoving his ass further on his fingers and into his palm is glaringly obvious when Childe bucks his erection up to graze briefly and intermittently between his toned cheeks.

“Are you complaining?” Zhongli moans.

“You kidding me?” Childe laughs and eases a second finger in, then a third. Now then, where is it…?

Zhongli suddenly cries out, vulgar sounds tapering off into quiet whimpers. There it is.

He begins massaging the spot and watches how Zhongli rolls his hips, the slight trail of drool and messy hair downright pornographic and mesmerizing. When his ass brushes against Childe’s cock again, he moves forward to nip at the god’s hip. “Z-zhongli, be careful there or I’m not gonna last.”

“I would ra-aahh-ther you finish in me, Childe,” the other rumbles, “before you ruin my bedsheets again.”

“Gods damn it, that was one time, you will not let that shit go,” Childe complains, completely uncouth and disrespectful, before withdrawing his fingers. “You’re lucky you’re good at sex.”

When his grabs the bottle again to pour it on his own straining member, the cool sensation welcome against his throbbing heat, he hears Zhongli chuckle above him. “Is that all I am to you? A nighttime tryst?”

“Don’t say that like you don’t enjoy it,” he mumbles, grabbing himself to line it up with Zhongli’s entrance. When the other slowly lower his hips, they both groan as the head begins to breach. It’s not fair, it’s not fair at all that Childe can’t stay mad at Zhongli like this. Not when the other swallows his dick like an animal in heat.

He moans openly when Zhongli finally meets him at his base, and he gives an experimental hip-roll to the god’s delight. Zhongli’s breath shudders before he starts a steady pace, switching between rolling his hips and lifting them to slam back down. Childe chokes on his breath and digs his head into the pillows beneath him at the sensation of being used like a fuck-toy for the ancient god. When blue eyes watch the Archon, muscles flexing in a downright filthy display of power, he’s awestruck. Zhongli is almost, almost treating his cock as another thing to conquer with the way he’s being manhandled like all attempts at domination earlier were just jokes.

He’s not giving up that easily. Childe’s fingers dig into the other’s hips to urge him to stop, bruising grip going nearly unnoticed. “Z-zhongli,” his strangled voice calls, “Flip over.”

When he slides his hands higher on the god’s hips and begins lifting his own body, Zhongli follows his lead. Before long, he’s flipped on his back with Childe looming over him, immediately catching his lips in another kiss as the Harbinger slowly pulls back before putting all his honed power in the movement back in. Zhongli breaks the kiss to groan and bares his throat in a show of submission, allowing the mortal to mark the god with fervor. Childe laps up the salt pooling along his skin with due diligence, nipping haphazardly along the way.

His thrusts begin to angle, looking for that tender spot once again. It’s no surprise how the ruthless Harbinger finds it with lethal precision and begins slamming into him earnestly. Fuck, his hips stutter and grow frantic when he’s rewarded with Zhongli’s increasingly loud cries, how does someone so composed sound downright filthy like that? Zhongli has no right, no right at all. When he feels nails drag down his back to draw forth sticky warmth, he retaliates by leaning forward and fiercely biting. His moans mingle with Zhongli’s as blood pours into his mouth, lust tearing through him, urging him to lacerate and mutilate this god further. Is it possible for a god’s body to be such an aphrodisiac?

Electric pleasure begins creeping forward; he’s losing his mind, Zhongli is coaxing out atrocious amounts of gratification and raw, unapologetic gluttony. More, he wants more.

Childe’s nose is flooded with warm mountain air, the musk inhuman but comforting, nonetheless. It’s enough to ease the abyssal beast inside of him but leaves the man in him wanting as he looks for any skin left unmarked to ruin. Much to his satisfaction, there is little left.

He releases his jaws when he feels a slight tugging on his hair, so he pulls back and – oh no. Oh, no no, that something grows in his heart again when he sees amber eyes gazing at him lovingly. “Childe,” Zhongli murmurs softly, “Let me see you, let me see your eyes.”

His responding laugh sound fake, even to him, as the sudden anxiety pushes aside the passion. If Zhongli notices how his thrusts begin speeding up, chasing that elusive and traitorous pleasure to mask it, he doesn’t comment. Instead, callous hands cup Childe’s cheeks and urge him to look deeply. “Please, a-allow – haah - me to commit you to… to memory.”

“W-what the fuck are you talking about?” he stutters, swallowing thickly around a sudden lump. Stop it. Stop being so sensual, stop it, stop being so sentimental you naïve and old creature, stop it –

Zhongli only smiles, lips wrapping around the soft sounds and purrs coming from deep within his chest. Luminous eyes are watching him, studying him, and he grows hateful at how Zhongli seems to just know. “I y-yearn to remember, please, allow me this. You are beautiful like this.”

“Shut up,” Childe suddenly snarls, leaning forward to hide his face in Zhongli’s shoulder. The other’s noises intensify in response, seemingly in an attempt to soothe him, and he hates it. “S-shut the fuck up, don’t make this something it isn’t, d-don’t do this to me Zhongli. Stop be-iiihng, ah, so cruel, you liar, we agr-eed to stop fucking lying to each other.”

Zhongli turns his head to kiss along Childe’s jaw, each one leaving behind hidden messages of longing and affection. “We did.”

Damn him, Ajax thinks as he desperately turns his head to meet Zhongli’s to kiss again, and again, and again.

It’s no surprise that soon, his hips’ rhythm falters before he slams one more time into Zhongli, that familiar heat in his core spilling deep in the other. Zhongli moans and flutters his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling pooling in his gut.

Ajax is not cruel. He rolls his hips and reaches one hand down to grab Zhongli’s still-aching cock, drawing forth more pleasure from the former Archon with an unforgiving speed. Soon, his breath is drawn, and he shudders as his cum shoots across his belly and into the Harbinger’s hand. Ajax is not cruel.

Damn him, he thinks again as he kisses Zhongli, but there’s no more malice, no more pretenses or attempts to hide his endearment for the older man. When he pulls back, Zhongli’s eyes glow softly in time with the markings along his arms. It’s indescribable, Childe thinks, how the light dances across the obsidian bedsheets and shimmers back, reflecting the riches of Teyvat in his blood. Before he can stop it, a single word tumbles out: “Beautiful.”

Zhongli smiles and pulls him down for another kiss.

And another, again and again and again.

---

(Don’t let them see you bleed, don’t let them see you bleed, don’t let - )

---

The two men hold each other, and though neither say a word, the silence before them is comfortable. How many rounds did they go for? Childe is twirling Zhongli’s hair around his fingers while the latter’s eyes are closed, but his breathing is too shallow to be asleep. Exhaustion clearly is not an issue for immortals.

Hm. His dark hair is silky and fine, maybe he can…? Childe glances at the not-sleeping man in front of him and a mischievous smile twists his lips, all attempts to suppress it gone. Not like he’s going to get another shot at this anytime soon. Deftly, his fingers begin to braid Zhongli’s hair in patterns he remembers the women in Snezhnaya wearing.

Only, when he looks at Zhongli again, golden eyes stare back, torn between being unimpressed and blatantly amused. Childe laughs and grabs the other’s chin to give a quick peck. “Aw, don’t look at me like that comrade, I just think you would enjoy this more than bed head.” It’s an excuse because Zhongli always looks perfect, but let him just have this.

“Mm.” A deep exhale breezes across Childe’s chest, and lust sparks in his gut once again at the cool sensation tickling his open wounds from when Zhongli took his turn hammering into Childe, spearing him open unforgivingly. Some minutes pass, and – yeah, no, braiding isn’t his thing Childe decides. The braid is unorganized, hair falls out, and he’s pretty sure he accidentally tangled it somewhere. Zhongli chuckles and buries his head further against Childe’s neck. “You would make a fine weaver.”

“Asshole.”

They both smile, but when Zhongli looks to the other again, he knows there’s a question forming. He just knows it, but seeing those swollen and kissable lips bruised and knowing that he did that? Childe’s dick twitches traitorously, ready to go again.

“Childe, are you listening?” Zhongli frowns and Childe blinks, attempting to be coquettish. The other’s frown deepens.

“Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “What was that?”

“I asked if you believe in the red thread?”

Childe’s hands stop, and not for the first time, he wonders why the hell Liyue is so obsessed with the concept of destiny. He scoffs, mouth twisting and nose curling up. “Nah, I don’t. It’s a cute gesture ‘n all, but if you look closely, there’s a reason for everything, and it isn’t because Celestia or whatever decided it.”

“Do you say this because you did not have control over what happened to Liyue?”

At Zhongli’s inquisitive look, he holds up the mess of a braid he was trying to rectify. “You see this? This is the red thread. It’s messy. It’s artificial. There’s no such thing as destiny, Zhongli, everything happens deliberately, by us,” he huffs, irritated by the question. Childe was just trying to have a relaxing time, why did he have to bring that up now? The former Archon’s radiant eyes glow brighter, an impassive wall for the other to beat against. Somehow, though, that placid expression irks Tartaglia further and the words fall out before he can stop them.

“You think it’s destiny that I was maneuvered like that? That I began serving Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa? That I fe-“ Tartaglia, thankfully, has enough wherewithal to pause that statement before too much is revealed and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to center himself. “No, Zhongli, I do everything for a reason. Everything. My path is my own, all the titles and reputations and connections I possess were bargained for fairly. I dragged myself out of that cold and dark land by my own will.”

Zhongli knows he isn’t speaking of Snezhnaya, but says nothing regardless.

“I thought you of all people would understand that,” he spits, sudden cynicism surging through him like a tidal wave. “How many people have you controlled over the years? Pawns moved, strategic opportunities seized? You should know that nothing happens by coincidence, someone as old as you.”

A roaring tempest, changing and harsh and untamable, crashes against the rocky mountain that stands tall and firm at the center of the chaos.

Zhongli’s lips curve as he admits, “I do. Perhaps you and I have a different understanding of the concept of coincidence, then, though I do not disagree with what you say.”

“Did you not say that actions and emotions must be separate?” he replies, wry smirk back in place. He doesn’t miss the flicker of sentiment, and if he didn’t know the stone-cold god any better, he would be tempted to label it as almost melancholic. What was Zhongli thinking?

Childe sighs, all fight in him about this topic abruptly gone. Truly unpredictable. “Two sides of the same coin, huh?” he murmurs. “Let’s just… Not talk about that. Not on my last night.” He instead descends to capture the other’s lips in a vicious kiss, clearly an attempt to redirect his frustrations elsewhere.

Zhongli returns it with equal fervor and two pairs of hands grapple each other in possessive movements. They’ve long ago decided to be truthful with each other, and this is the most open they can be, unspoken words and feelings conveyed through touch.

When they break apart, Tartaglia’s ocean eyes hide how far below the boy in him is confined to the murky depths. As he nips at Zhongli’s throat, the god can’t help but wonder of their varying approaches to this concept of control. Tartaglia moves with aggression, uses his body as a weapon to get what he needs, to distance his emotions and thoughts further from the surface; Zhongli attempts to convey his desires and willingness to plunge into those watery depths, to drag him back through his own.

Zhongli won’t deny that their arrangement started as him humoring Childe’s lust, of allowing the other to believe in the lie that he had the upper hand all along, but the god has since grown genuinely fond of the tempestuous being.

However, Tartaglia only sees their passions as another battle to be won and the old God of War indulges him. If Tartaglia chooses to classify their relationship and letters as platonic, then so be it.

But… Is the Harbinger truly so far gone that he does not understand Zhongli’s blatant desire for him? How quickly did the young man latch onto this desperate understanding that their passionate actions are separate from the relationship they have built? What war is he fighting?

What happened to him to make him believe he could only rely on himself?

Zhongli hums. No matter.

The dragon already decided long ago that Childe is a treasure worth coveting, and hopes that one day, he will understand that Zhongli’s desires are not superficial. He has all the time in the world to find a love language that Childe will understand.

In due time, he intends to help raise the man above the Archons who dared to use him, dared to take away control over his hard-won destiny, dared to treat his mortal kin as worthless compared to the boy they raised.

In due time.

---

Ajax did not want to think about his carefully guarded feelings nor talk about it that night, lest Morax see him for how selfish and hungry his heart is. It is no secret how he lusts after power, and that night in the Golden House sparked a ravenous flame. Even if he could only convince one of the immortals to join him, it would be enough to challenge the rest of the Harbingers and begin his own conquest.

However, during his stay in Liyue, he could only ease his treacherous heart with one who surely saw mortal hearts as tradeable as gold. His own aches in resignation.

Is it because he is afraid of his own weakness? Or because he knows that when destiny pushes him back into that abyss a second time, it will be final and alone?

Don’t let them see you bleed.

Ajax trusts Morax with his life (strangely enough), but not with his soul. Not now. He wonders if you would be gentler. Kinder.

But a bird cannot survive a hurricane.

---

(The stars whisper fearful warnings that night - incessant in their dulcet tunes – hoping to shepherd these souls once more.

Nobody hears them. They have been absent from their duty too long. Nobody remembers.)

---

On the boat back to Snezhnaya, the Harbinger is leaning over the railing, twisting the ring around his finger in thought. A small smile graces his lips as he thinks of the last conversation he shared with you, of the promises of a rematch.

Cute. That’s all he thinks – fluffy, unreasonably angry, cute, so insistent on chirping and proving yourself a fierce opponent. No, you are formidable as he remembers his ass being beaten to the ground without mercy. A thrill shoots up his spine at the memory and his tender smile turns wicked. Formidable and sexy he declares with Her Imperial Majesty as his witness.

Maybe Zhongli was right, there must be something fucked up in his head for him to still think you’re cute as he nurses his wounds from the Golden House and the Teucer fiasco.

Chlide beams, completely enamored with the open ocean and its bare surface; the bright and open sun shimmers across the waves as tempting as jewels for the taking. One day, he wants to take his siblings out to the coasts beyond Snezhnaya’s eternally frozen waters where icebergs leave few paths for the boats to navigate. Though he’ll never admit it to the other Fatui, he always preferred the freedom to go wherever and do whatever he pleased.

Well, let’s be more honest here, it’s more or less already an open secret. After all, that’s why he’s the Vanguard of the Harbingers. Tartaglia is sent to be the first storm that wreaks havoc and flood enemy defenses while the others clean it up and claim credit.

Childe sneers because fuck Signora, that glory was supposed to be his.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but pauses midway before lowering it and clenching the railing harder. Memories flood his vision as he remembers watching how you would rub your head whenever you were nervous, would brush Paimon’s hair and coo at its ephemeral patterns, would help Aether re-braid his after a particularly messy fight. During his stay at Liyue, he somehow picked up the tick himself after spending so much time watching you to try and find your own quirks in character. Chlide never intended to punch a hole in his own carefully guarded defenses.

So… Why did you reveal yourself like that? Childe mulls his options over. Either you weren’t aware of your actions - which is not possible, not with the way you move during battle – or you let him see to throw him off your trail, letting him think he figured you out. Hm. But that’s something Zhongli would do. Did.

Asshole, he thinks fondly.

Maybe you just… Maybe you’re just that open? Let your guard down around him because of – because of –

He closes his eyes, stifling that inkling of something again from creeping its way into his traitorous heart. Childe snorts, sardonic nature taking over because yeah right, like you would really let him in so easily. But then he sees it, sees how the blue glimmers with the light like stars.

If you trusted him because of a starconch, then you really were as stupid as he was afraid of.

And, well, maybe he is too.

How many stories did you exchange over warms meals and long nights? In all those little tales he shared, he showed a bit more of himself. After all, the best lies have truth in them; Zhongli knew this and reciprocated the efforts. In a way, that’s why he trusts Zhongli more – the former Archon already manipulated him and proved his suspicions right. Now that the betrayal has been seared into his memoirs, he understands all the more the man’s motivations, making him an easy target for Childe to predict next they meet.

His heart remembers the unexpected connection he made with Aether – the sacrifices for one’s family rings universal. It’s only when Teucer found his way into Liyue – the little devil – that he realized that somehow, along the way, it was Ajax that was laughing, Ajax that was helping Aether find Lumine, Ajax paying for Paimon’s egregious eating habits.

Childe’s thoughts loop endlessly as he tries convincing himself his mind is only consumed by you three (or one) because he can’t figure you out. You’re an eternal mystery and challenge, how could he resist?

He’s stirred when he hears the Fatui recruits call for him below deck and Childe’s easy nature slides back in. He promised them a proper Sneznhayan drinking game; it’s time to show these fresh-faced bumpkins what being a Harbinger is all about.

---

(Ajax did not see how Morax gazes at him, ferocious and protective. Only one mortal’s heart will remain immeasurable and incomparable to Teyvat’s riches, the scales will never be balanced.

Nor did Ajax witness the stars streak across the sky for him, incandescent and besotted, a promise of other immortals who would faithfully carry him to the heavens if he but asked.

A mountain of bodies filles his vision as he seeks to build a paradise above the carnage for his family’s dreams to be safe, so that they may never know what nightmare lies beneath the world.

He made a promise, after all.)

---

My dear Childe,

I suppose I am able to write the first of our agreed upon letters, as I am the one left behind with the luxury of free time while you journey to your own homeland.

Please note that, attached to the letter, are packages of various Liyue sweets that I am sure youth enjoy. Hu Tao has at least assured me of its quality. If your kin are anything like you, these will serve in sufficiently whetting their voracious appetites.

Also included are some artifacts that, I pray, will find a new home in Snezhnaya. Hopefully your siblings are as curious as you. Certainly, you can tickle Teucer’s desires for grand anecdotes with the enclosed miniature terracotta warrior. They once stood as guardians to tombs of emperors long past. Perhaps he can become a paragon of honor once more as sentinel to Mr. Cyclops.

Just be sure to not allow the statue to break. I must warn you that it contains a very real spirit. Children enjoy this sort of thing, yes?

I am glad we can remain in contact. I cannot begin to repay your kindness and generosity in this lifetime for treating me as a mortal; I never sought the continuation of Rex Lapis’ legacy in my assessments of Liyue. Instead, I find that having good company to walk with is enough.

I pray that your duty does not come into conflict with the Travelers. They have asked me to inform you that they will not attempt to establish contact, for they fear their own journeys will eventually threaten Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. They do not wish to endanger you or your family.

No one is at fault for attempting to complete their mission, but let it not distract you from why – and for who - you fight. As you described to me, baseless glory for the sake of it is no way to conduct oneself as a true warrior.

Do not be afraid to be the first to step on the path into unknown territory. Believe me, time waits for no one.

Your dutiful friend,

Zhongli

---

My dearest and most lively funeral consultant,

Don’t worry about my wellbeing; as I have said on our last night together, my destiny is my own. Her Majesty the Tsaritsa will have her seven stars, as I’ve promised, but they are not my stars nor my true goals. I believe you are right – I will have to venture into that dark night if I am to find what I truly seek.

I am pleased to report that Teucer is now sleeping with your protective clay warrior after naming him, aptly, ‘Mr. Dirty’ for the incessant mess that the dusty old thing seems to leave. My mother has certainly thrown a fit more than once for the dirt it leaves in his bed. Whether you have blessed this little thing with one of your tricks to always produce earth is a cheeky mystery I am sure you will never answer.

Zhongli, my friend, we must really educate you on what is and is not appropriate to gift a young child. I did not explain to him – nor my family, for that matter – why I insisted on wrapping Mr. Dirty in a very cushioned blanket.

Furthermore, Hu Tao was right, the candies were a roaring success. Quite literally, I might add, as my siblings tore at them with the ferocity of Snezhnayan wolves and howling battle cries.

I wonder who would win in a fight for the last sticky honey roast: my siblings or Paimon.

I understand fully their reasons and don’t fault them for it. If anything, they conduct themselves with greater care than I ever did in Liyue. Regardless, I will miss them dearly and hope that when we meet again in Snezhnaya, it is not for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, but for myself. I did promise my honor as Harbinger to be the prize won.

With the letter is a package of a hand-crafted Matryoshka doll. I had asked for the crafter to paint each layer as different armor from Liyue’s history. However, at the center, you will find a doll with intimately familiar amber eyes.

This is, I hope, a suitable gift. To me, you will always be Zhongli first and foremost at your core.

You still owe me a fight for the right to reassert your divine status to me and rectify the slight against my character. Otherwise, you will find my insolence to become tenfold. I just hope you defend your honor before your short guard dog, Xiao, does it for you.

Your loyal companion,

Childe

---

Ajax walks along the beaches outside of his village. He’s been home for a few weeks on leave, much to the delight of his family; he welcomes their affection and returns in kind, even if when he embraces his father, he feels emptier after he pulls away. It’s funny. Growing up, Ajax adored his father’s stories of adventures. They seemed so thrilling and freeing, especially to travel the world outside of Morepesok.

Only, whenever he comes home, a bit more of his father’s image is broken away like ice. That’s all they were: stories. The Harbinger has massacred battlefields, left just enough in his wake that would churn most men’s stomachs as a brutal reminder for defying the Fatui. No, those stories are nothing to him now.

He keeps walking, stopping only to kick away some snow from his path. Ajax missed this; he’ll admit it. Too many times has he spent an extended period on Dragonspine to let the cold freeze him just to the brink of death, reminding him of Snezhnaya. Such a ruthless landscape to birth a ruthless warrior. As much as he adores travelling, home is where he’ll always return to, where he misses most when he reads each letter gracing his desk.

Ajax spots a shining object and immediately bends to reach it, but pulls away with only a blue stone and faint silver markings.

Not a starconch. Huh. His instincts must be slow for him to make such a rookie mistake.

As he tosses the rock over his shoulder, Ajax’s lips pull into a frown. Home is where the heart is.

So why does he feel empty?

---

Ajax looks out the window of his home as Tonia, Anthon and Teucer snore peacefully in his lap. They’re in front of the roaring fireplace and a thick blanket is wrapped around them all.

He very pointedly ignores the sharp Mr. Dirty digging into his side, and just… Why, Zhongli, why are you so stupid sometimes. Ah well, it made Teucer happy, so Ajax relents in his complaints for the time being.

Outside his window, he watches a family of snowy owls as they emerge from their nest. Some time passes before the youngest brave the howling winds, opening their wings to test the currents.

In a heart-stopping moment, all the children leap and exit his field of vision before quickly rising again, thriving in the winds of change. He watches as they flap their wings experimentally, fluttering around the tree before the family gathers itself. They eventually leave, heading to horizons unknown to explore as they flee the coming darkness of winter for their own safety. Despite this, the owls will return home when the chaos settles, they always do.

A stray thought springs into Ajax’s head as he looks down at his siblings.

---

When Tartaglia saunters up the alabaster steps to Zaplorny Palace, he remembers how awe-struck he was as a child listening to his father’s speak about the Tsaritsa residing within. Frost paints ethereal patterns into the decorations, constantly changing as it’s melted and regrown. The shimmering patterns no doubt rival the beauty of the skies, but also mirror them in the way that the stars are so far and cold themselves. No matter how many flames are lit, Zapolyarny Palace will always remain cold.

He wonders if the Tsasritsa’s frozen heart still has a flicker of warmth.

Before he turns down the next hallway, he is met with the sight of three other Harbingers. Oh boy, what a fucking party. “Ah! Forgive me comrade!” Childe chuckles as he shoves past Scaramouche’s shoulders to join them. “I didn’t see you down there,” he sneers, relishing in the murderous glance tossed his way.

“Childe. For how long you spent in Liyue, one would expect you to have learned some respect by now. I suppose it’s too much to ask for from someone of your limited faculties,” Scaramouche responds, tone light and casual but eyes burning regardless.

“Was your leave rejuvenating?” Pulcinella interjects, hoping to steer the conversation away from a brawl starting in the palace. Not that they have any doubts over Scaramouche’s self-discipline, but Childe’s was another matter entirely. “Signora here has informed me of your recent success in heralding the Gnosis from Morax. Congratulations.”

Childe raises one eyebrow, eyes dull and heavily guarded. He’s familiar with these political tactics and with how the Harbingers lace their words with patronizing intent. It’s all some bid to try to put others down, remind them of their place. What a bunch of idiots, don’t they know he only cares about what the Tsaritsa thinks?

As if reading his mind, Signora’s lips quirk upwards as she slithers in to join Pulcinella’s compliments. “Indeed. I have informed Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of your valiant efforts. This couldn’t have been done without you.”

Without your brash and impulsive tendencies.

“You know…” Scaramouche starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head back in a show of friendly submission. What the fuck is he up to now? “Some time ago, when I was in Mondstadt investigating the Jester’s little mission for me, I saw the Travelers again. They certainly grew more adept in commanding the elements, wouldn’t you say, Childe?”

The ginger-haired man’s airy laugh rings off the walls around them, the easy-going nature of Childe stepping forth before Tartaglia has a chance to strangle him. “Oh yes, I would certainly agree. Makes it all the more exciting to see what they’ll be up to next. Let me guess, you had a hard time dealing with them? I too heard the reports, dear Balladeer, of how they kept dancing just outside of your short reach.”

Pulcinella bites the inside of their cheek to keep the amusement from showing. Somehow, their favored recruit always finds a way to piss off the other Harbingers like it’s all some game. Really gives a good show too.

Scaramouche scoffs, allowing the jab to slide this time. “I let the fools go. My research was complete, I didn’t linger. But I did notice something… Interesting.” He raises his left hand casually, motioning his fingers in a light pinching motion as if he held something small and precious. “A single starconch hung from one of the Traveler’s journals. A rather curious sight.”

Childe’s smile grows wider, more placid. The lack of an aggressive reaction is, in itself, a threat. “Curious indeed.”

“Scaramouche, wouldn’t you say that was a stroke of genius on Childe’s part? He’s keeping them close and relaxed. I’m rather proud of you for employing our more covert tactics for once. That is, after all, your intent, is it not?” Signora smirks when she sees how Childe’s eyes flick to hers. Still no change in his expression, but he laughs and holds up both hands in a placating gesture. As much as she plays at knowing his tactics, it’s not very hard to guess where his chaotic actions will lead him. However, the motivations behind his more subtle behaviors remain elusive wherein only two can guess it correctly at any given moment: Pulcinella and Her Majesty the Tsaritsa herself.

“You got me. They’re just so eager to help others, how could I resist that temptation of fucking with them?” Childe’s whimsical tone never wavers, not once. Pulcinella frowns. This is a dangerous game; they always caution against becoming attached to the unhinged Harbinger, but if the Travelers became strung along too much, then…

“Careful, Tartaglia,” Pulcinella murmurs, drawing all eyes on them. “Since your little betrayal of their trust, the Liyue agents report that our Fatui strongholds in the wild have steadily lost their footing. For every inch we gain, we lose two more.”

Childe pretends to look shocked, but he has his own ears inside the palace, he’s been aware of it the whole time. Little birds, he thinks affectionately, I’m nearly proud.

“Hmph, of course the idiots keep losing ground, they have no Harbinger guiding them,” Scaramouche says, frown deepening. “Even with Signora in Mondstadt, the diplomats were frankly imbeciles.” She tsks in irritation, but nothing more.

“Aw, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were complimenting me, comrade!” Childe says cheerfully. The Inazuma native’s face flashes with fury before quickly recovering.

“All I’m saying is that maybe we need someone to keep an eye on them,” he replies. “Since Mondstadt… They’re not what you think, Childe. The stars are a lie; none of it is real. I’ll bet you the Travelers know more about it than they’re letting on. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

Childe cocks an eyebrow, smirk barely melting into a snarl. “And what would you know? You stay behind the scenes while the rest of us do real work.”

Scaramouche’s slow smile is poisonous and laced with contempt as he hisses, “You should know there is a Liyue saying that goes ‘Heaven and Earth are impartial, treating all creatures like straw dogs.’ When the sacrifices have fulfilled their purpose, they are discarded because there is no more use and care for such worthless objects. Didn’t dear Morax tell you of this philosophy himself, Childe?”

Tartaglia tastes blood as he bites his tongue to keep from summoning a blade then and there.

Pulcinella not-so-subtly coughs. “I believe our meeting is starting soon. Let us take this discussion there, for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa is currently informed of all developments. We will receive our next assignments there.”

As all four Harbingers walk in silence down the halls, Childe lingers in the back so that the other three don’t catch sight of his eyes darkening. He was right, damn it, the Travelers are hiding something.

However, a sadistic smile curls on his face. Though he’s sure that the others allowed Scaramouche to hint at what is surely classified information that currently only he, the Jester, and the Tsaritsa know the full scope of just to allow the shorter Harbinger to insult Childe, he enjoys the fact that the others once again underestimate him. They were likely not informed of Scaramouche’s findings either and this provided an apt opportunity for them to update their intel if their unashamedly curious expressions were anything to go by. Scaramouche’s lightning temper strikes again and illuminates the path forward, even if Childe had to bleed first to see it.

Oh what fun, fun, fun!

---

The Tsaritsa’s cold gaze peers down at Tartaglia as he kneels before her, not even daring to gaze at her feet. With the other Harbingers long-departed after the meeting, the only two remaining souls in her throne room are himself and the Cryo Archon; for anyone else, this would strike fear in their heart, but Tartaglia only croons at the thought. Finally, finally, she trusts him with a classified mission, one that she fears the other Harbingers might impede on should they discover the true intention.

He buries Scaramouche’s words deep below the surface, unwilling to allow his goddess to witness his burning desire to prove himself. For now, Childe will serve dutifully until the opportunity for him to topple the Archons’ thrones presents itself.

Littered around them are the eternally frozen bodies of all who made the mistake of striking too soon, their faces warped in perpetual agony as sick trophies. Are they still alive beneath that ice, like the creatures trapped atop Dragonspine?

“Tartaglia,” she starts, regal voice cutting clear through the air, “the Travelers defy the laws of this world and harness its ancient secrets with ease, something the other Harbingers have failed to provide me concrete information on. However, I understand that you have observed these phenomena yourself. Am I correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” comes the smooth reply, steady and betraying no weakness.

“Good,” he hears the pleased smile in her voice. “I have a new task for you.”

---

Dreams do not normally come, smothered by the abyss. But something is different this time. Ajax hears it.

A voice calls to him in a language that sounds of silvery bells. Another speaks in a tongue long forgotten by mortals.

notes:

childe’s pov has a lot of swearing (and will in future chapter) bc lets be honest, he probably would if mihoyo would let him

1) Childe flips masks depending on who he's with according to mihoyo's official forum thread on him. Pulcinella is quoted as stating that Childe is completely trustworthy for any job, but cautions against getting too attached/close (for unknown reasons)

2) One of Childe's voice lines expresses admiration for the Tsaritsa's warrior methods, but in another line, has massive disdain for the underhanded tactics of others. He also blatantly admits to being willing to take on the other Harbingers and overthrow the world with the Traveler if the opportunity presents itself, and doesn't care at all for their opinions on him

3) The terracotta soldier is referencing the Terracotta Army guarding the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China and Matryoshka dolls have multiple dolls inside one.

4) The Liyue philosophy quoted is a sentiment expressed in Chapter 5 of the Tao Te Ching that basically translates as Heaven treating all the people equally, neither with love nor hate aka nobody is special. It is what it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5) Childe 100% spent so much time on Dragonspine with the video from yesterday (April 4th) from mihoyo featuring him walking around missing Snezhnaya

6) The multiple frozen statues are a ref to the White Witch from the Narnia series where she froze all her enemies and kept them in a room to look at. Yeesh.

7) and FINALLY (TL;DR at the bottom of this bullet point) (I wrote this chapter before “We Will Be Reunited” quest)

Scaramouche's line of "the stars are a lie" are a direct quote from the Unreconciled Stars event. A lot of veterans of mihoyo games think this references the theory that Teyvat is actually a bubble world either as a part of the Seeds of Sumeru (name also one of the regions in Teyvat) universe from Honkai Impact 3, a sci-fi game, or is just another world in the Imaginary Tree of mihoyo's overarching lore (aka multiverse). The symbol for the abyss and celestia being a tree support this too, plus the mythos of Gnosticism says that a rival divine made a false world to mirror the "true" divine (abyss/celestia?) with Archons ruling over 7 planets.

This is further confirmed in a dev video where one of the characters from HI3 is seen watching Dvalin on a computer screen, stating that Genshin exists parallel to HI3 and has the same rules where if mankind progresses too fast or too far, these beings called Honkai come and wipe them out to restart. Since I PERSONALLY would feel extremely discouraged if Genshin turns into something too sci-fi (takes away from the fantasy appeal imo), I'm taking this to mean that the MC travels multiple worlds exploring while the unknown god is stopping mankind from being too arrogant. The Archons know things about Celestia most don't (maybe why the Tsaritsa wants to rebel), and the MC's twin joined the abyss separately after seeing the cataclysm 500 years ago to probably help the abyss.

The abyss order are all but explicitly confirmed to be the fallen Khaenri'ah turned monsters and the advanced technology we see everywhere with the power to end civilization also belonged to them, if Kaeya's voice lines and item descriptions anything to go by. They used the abyss as a power source "away from the eyes of the gods" that is parallel to Celestia's power. Celestia is preventing any more disruptions to the great cycle by controlling mortals (one piece of lore on the wiki's timeline page directly describes how they used to walk among the earliest human ancestors in Tevyat long before even the gods we know today were born, but mortals are not meant to know that Teyvat's history is cyclical, starting and ending multiple times). I don't think the MC is aware of the fake stars because they're canonically just as confused as Paimon when Scaramouche says that the sky is a hoax. I'm taking my own twist on this for the fanfic with stars being "sentient" or artificially placed (maybe by Celestia?) since the meteorites that fell were someone's old constellation. There are separate stars that follow and affect the Travelers/worlds.

TL;DR: The stars in Teyvat are artificial but the MC canonically didn't know this, the unknown god is trying to prevent uprisings, mortals want to control the heavens instead, the abyss and celestia mirror Gnostic mythos about two divines and 7 Archons, and for the purposes of this fanfic the stars are both separate from and connected to the Travelers.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #childe #childe x reader #childe fanfic #aether #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #genshin aether

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thebadchoicemachine · 3 years

Text

PROMPT: I turned around to get some jam as my toast was ready, only to find when I turned back it was gone. I live alone and don’t have pets. @everblue22

[Recording Begins]

So, I just start talking into this thing? Okay. Oh! I see it writing everything down here, that is... HEY! Awesome! It even knows WHEN to capitalize! PORCUPINE! Okay, okay, I’m done messing around. What? I just think it’s neat! Uh... okay, here it goes. Huh, where do I even start? I guess just with whatever I want?

Well, I want to say I could tell you I found my fridge, but I can’t. It’s gone. I don’t know where and I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna tell Jan. Maybe I should just not tell him. No, I have to, he’s gonna find out sooner or later. Why though? He checks in every now and then of course but why should I even care? Am I scared or something? I think so.

Yes.

Jan the... leviathan, Jan fear lord, Jan the landlord. Jan, my landlord. He owns my house. (I have a house, right? I must... where else would I keep my fridge that I don’t have? Or... is it an apartment?) Anyway, Jan in charge of my home where my fridge has disappeared, possibly down some... some semi-indescribable thing. Something that my landlord with definitely notice. Ugh, that’s a conversation I am not looking forward to. I’m not sure how mad he’s going to be able to be, though.

I mean, yeah, the fridge is gone and there’s The Trench pit-stairs-thing there now, but none of that is my fault! I’m usually a very good tenant; I’ve always paid my rent on time, I never have parties, everything is entirely as intact as when I first moved in, sometimes more so! Well, except for the fridge that is...

I’m sorry, you probably don’t understand this. Let me start over. I’m a- I’m a... hmm, I- you know, I can’t remember. I had a... job at some point, didn’t I? Yes. I never got fired or anything, I would remember something like that. Probably. Anyway, I have a job where I usually am when I’m not home.

I’m not quite sure what I did but we had ridiculously short lunch breaks. That combined with the fact everything nearby was expensive as balls meant I ended up skipping lunch a lot. I also had to be there early so forgot about breakfast most days too. By the time dinner came around I was too exhausted to cook anything big, plus groceries were expensive, so I’d just microwave a tin, force down a few bites, and go to bed. Some days I don’t think I stepped foot in the kitchen at all. Yeah... turns out those are all really bad habits to be in, especially at once.

It kind of clicked one day while I was driving to work and feeling miserable that it is not normal to feel that way all the time. I thought down a checklist of reasons I might feel like crap (water, sleep, breathing, etc.) and nearly crashed when I got to food. I had a quiet “oh” moment realizing I hadn’t eaten that day. I also couldn’t remember if I’d eaten yesterday or the day before that. I knew I had eaten, just not when or how often or how much. Yeah. That was pretty crap.

That night I sat down and decided I wanted to exist again and to do that I had to start eating again, regularly. I at least needed to get something in my body every day. Breakfast was still hard and dinner still felt complicated so I settled for focusing on lunch, starting small and all that. That way was I was trapped, at home I could just do something else but at work? There was nothing to do but work or eat and I was hoping the time limit would help me force down some food even if I didn’t feel like eating.

I- oh damn, I’ve been rambling this whole time, haven’t I? I’ll skip to the important part, I made a lot of sandwiches. I’ve never cared for peanut butter, I didn’t hate it but I wouldn’t be able to eat it so continuously. In fact, I couldn’t stomach many things over and over again for too long. Stimulation is very important to me, I need routine but can’t stand stagnation. (That’s probably another reason I was so miserable.) Because of this, I opted to get an array of spreads and switch between toasted and plain slices of bread. t worked out pretty well, after a while wasn’t even an inconvenience to make and eat food at home.

Now, here’s where my troubles really started. One day, I didn’t have work, I was making some toast. I think it was breakfast which was rare for me but again I didn’t have work. I had set the bread in the toaster and turned to pick out a jam from my fridge (which at this point was still there) but when I turned around the toaster was empty! I know I heard the sound of it popping up but there was no toast, there wasn’t even bread.

I feel a little silly to admit this but I actually checked around to make sure the toast hadn’t been flung out of the toaster. Then I searched my whole home for some kind of animal. I don’t have any pets but the idea of one breaking in seemed a semi-plausible explanation. In some ways I guess I was right on the money.

Obviously, I was perplexed by this disappearing act but I shrugged it off and made some more toast. I stayed watching the toaster the whole time and everything worked normally. That is until I turned to get the jam and found it wasn’t there. Expect, then it was. I know that makes no sense but that’s simply what happened. I just ate my toast with butter at that point. A few days later the same thing happened again, beat for beat, only this time the disappearing never stopped. My bread would keep disappearing if I turned my back on it even for a split second, at least, that’s what I thought.

At some point, I realized it had nothing to do with me watching. Bread would disappear right before my eyes and never come back unless I had a thing of jam out. If I had jam out then the jam would disappear for a moment and repaper. I got in the habit of leaving out a certain jar whenever I cooked. At first, that was it. That’s probably all it would have been, just another odd habit to add to my routine, if it weren’t for the fact I noticed the jar was beginning to empty. I could have just let it be, written it off as me forgetting I used it, and moved on, except it was grape. I despise grape flavored things, the only reason I had that one was it came in a pack with the rest of the flavors. I had not and would never use the grape jam.

That was too weird for me. I became curious. I don’t know how I jumped to the conclusion something was eating the jam, the disappearing could have been a million other things, but that’s what I immediately assumed. Since it didn’t matter if I was watching or not I decided a camera wouldn’t affect too much and set up my phone to record it. If it failed, I would have a video of me making toast. If it succeed... well, I’m here, aren’t I?

I went through the process just fine, setting out the now half-empty decoy jam right in view of the camera. It happened like normal, normal as it was for me anyway. The jam disappeared for a second then returned right where it was. I calmly ate my snack, not wanting to do anything hastily lest I became suspicious, before casually reaching out to check my phone. The video was not as helpful as I liked. Even slowing it down and running it through some filters I couldn’t notice too much except for some faint, invisible, shape only there for a split second. That sounds impressive but already knew something was stealing my jam, I wanted to know what.

The rest happened almost entirely by accident. I got up in the middle of the night, barely remember it, just stumbled to the kitchen for water. It took me a few minutes to notice I was hearing something and not dreaming. It was a soft, tinkly, pattering sound. Like a dog’s paws scrambling across a floor made of glass. Still half-dreaming, I opened up my phone to fumble for a flashlight. This, of course, blinded me as looking at your phone when used to the dark is never a good idea and I had mine on full brightness for some forsaken reason. I yelped, grabbing my eyes. The sound stopped.

I opened my eyes, blinking away blind spots, or trying. Some just wouldn’t leave. It took me far too long to realize that they weren’t blind spots, they were creatures right in front of my face. I wish I could blame it on sleep but honestly, I think I’m just stupid.

Anyway, these things were borderline indescribable at first but as my eyes readjusted to the dark I could understand them quite clearly, visually, anyway. They had bodies like... well, you know when you stare at the sun too long and you get that dark/light green-ish/blue-ish blob in your vision? They had bodies like an inverted form of that. Their forms were inside a bubble, as in a soapy blowing bubble sheen wrapped around their serpentine bodies. They sat hunched on their back legs. they’d clearly been scrabbling against the door of the fridge with their little paws but now sat frozen, staring at me with dopey faces.

I, for some reason, did not freeze in return. Instead, I just stared at them, holding out my hand like I was giving treats. Two of them cowered while one tilted its head. Its head shape was odd, when I saw it from the side it appeared to have a snout but when it looked directly at me it just seemed perfectly round. It had what I could only assume was two reflective oblong eyes in the center of its face. They were the color of a blank tv screen and remained exactly where they were like a Hawk’s head in flight. The only reason I could tell its head was tilted at all was two (Three? One?) smoky wisps flowing down its top. We stared at each other for a moment until I tried to gently take a step forward and all three dived under my fridge.

I was shocked, of course, but not for the reasons you’d think. More because they left than because they were there. I handled the situation fantastically all things considered but I wanted more. I couldn’t just them go like that! So, I did the only thing I could think of. I made some toast and jam.

It didn’t work.

I felt defeated, dejected, and sad. Mournful, even. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d missed something incredible. This is the part that was really on accident, I began tapping the glass jam jar. The tinkling little noise was the only sound throughout the entire bitch black of the night. I don’t know how long I sat tapping, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour, but at some point, I noticed there was an echo. Then, of course, I realized it wasn’t an echo at all! It was the glass sounds the creatures made. I whipped around and saw- well, to be perfectly honest I saw nothing. Not at first.

Then, under the fridge, I noticed some darkness was... different. It was flatter, shinier, there were two oblong blanks in the shade under the fridge. Eyes. My heart leaped and I desperately kept tapping the jar, holding it out for the creature to see. I assume it worked as in a millisecond the jar was gone from my hand and on the floor, opened, then closed again. I opened the fridge and got out all the jam jars I had, lining them around the fridge like some kind of summoning circle. It took hours, maybe even minutes, for them to come out again. They were just as fast as always, I didn’t see them and I barely saw the jars move.

Now, I know this is going to sound stupid. It probably was a stupid idea but I was getting desperate, this whole thing was beginning to dishearten me. I raked over everything that had happened trying to figure out what let me see them and... listen, I did the only thing that made sense, at least at the time. I flashed my phone’s flashlight into my eyes a couple of times. It’s not that bad, okay! Stupid? Maybe, but it worked! I saw them!

Oh, they were beautiful. There was more of them this time, completely crowding the space around my fridge. I could see them so clearly. I noticed they had six limbs, rabbit-like hind legs with two sets of arms. The way they used them to open the jars reminded me of a raccoon. The wisps on their heads were like antenna, varying from four to two on each one’s head and flowing down past their bodies like tails. The size seemed to vary drastically based on each one. Their bodies’ still impossible and gorgeous.

They paid me no mind, swiftly swiping snack after snack from the jars lighting fast. I feel like the night should have been well over by this point but it was still dark and quiet. I couldn’t even hear the wind outside, although, it’s not like I was trying. My focus was on these creatures. These beings with their gorgeous bodies and musical tinkling calls... I couldn’t look away. Soon, looking wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t so enthralled as to try and touch one, not yet. No, I only grabbed a jar and opened it, holding it in my hand. It took a moment but it worked. One of the little guys came up to eat out of it. As it got close my senses, except sight, went all fizzy. Yes, I mean fizzy and not fuzzy. It wasn’t dull, quite the opposite, like eating pop rocks. I felt like I’d just been submerged in and inhaled some physical form of static. You’d think that would be unpleasant and let me tell you it was... wasn’t. No, of course not. I- I didn’t dislike it. I didn’t dislike a single moment of it. It- it was- it was all so... euphoric. All of it...

All of it.

Um, what- oh! Oh yes, the fridge. Well... I- I’m not sure I can tell you what happened. One minute I was having the time of my life laughing, petting, and playing with all of my radiant little friends... oh, they’re just lovely. I haven’t named any of them yet because I can’t really tell them apart and I’m pretty sure they change form. Ugh, I just love them so much. Yes, I do! Yes, I do, my dizzy little...

What? Hello? What was I... oh yeah, the fridge. So, I love these guys. So... just SO damn much. Am I tearing up? Ha! A funny thing about these guys is that static thing I was talking about earlier. Yeah. It’s constant but it usually very faint unless they’re right up close, then it just absolutely drowns you. I was hugging and petting them so I was completely lost in the static. It was fantastic but I don’t really remember much. I don’t even know how long I was there just that I was suddenly cut off. An- um... a car had driven by. I- I think that’s what happened at least, I don’t know. Something must have happened because suddenly they all dove back beneath the fridge.

Oh, I can’t describe the emptiness I was left with. It was so dreadful it- I... oh, I can’t. I can’t. I was desperate. It was only for a moment but I was so desperate, I- I lost my mind! I must’ve! I don’t know how what happened next could have happened. I ripped my refrigerator off the wall. I’ve heard of people getting super strength in life-or-death situations for loved ones, maybe it was something like that. Whatever the reason I had the whole refrigerator tossed clean to the other side of the room. What did I even have to show for it? Nothing. It was just a dusty area where the wall met the floor and some outlet things were placed.

I couldn’t stand for it. I know the precocious little beings had come from and gone somewhere. I was going to find it. I needed to find it. I reached out my hand so hard and fast I’m certain I would’ve snapped my wrist if the floor hadn’t given way. No, that’s not quite it. It didn’t “give way” it-

Whoah! This thing can do those “line things?” That’s “dope.” How can “it” even tell- wait, no, I’m not going to get off track again. The floor didn’t break or crumble into a trench that was beneath it, nor did I punch a giant hole into the floor. I do not believe it even existed before I touched it but I also don’t believe I created it at all.

I fell... ugh, how do I put this... I fell into it and out of it simultaneously. I can’t be any more clear than that, sorry. I was falling (Phasing?) down and up at the same time and then I landed on my kitchen floor. I- oh, yes, I know I said the fridge wasn’t my fault. It’s not. I have no idea where it is. If I did I could just put it back- well, I guess not because there’s the giant trench where it plugs in now, but I could have someone else do it! Actually... maybe it fell in somehow? I don’t know. I really don’t...

About the pit itself, it’s really more like a ravine. I couldn’t see the bottom but not because it was dark, because of the opposite! It has this soft yellow glow at its bottom, or as far down as I could see anyway. The sides look like rocks, some gradient of turquoise and bismuth. It’s pretty thin, only about a meter across, but stretches out for an unreasonable length into the wall. I don’t know how, it looks like one of those optical illusions people paint onto the sides of buildings that make it seem like there’s a tunnel even though you can clearly see it’s a wall. It wasn’t an illusion though, oh no. I threw several things against my wall, or what used to be my wall, and they flew right past where it should have hit and down into the trench. Lost a lot of spoons... When I walked around to my bedroom (the room on the other side of the wall) there was nothing. It was completely normal, you’d never think there was some hole with impossible dimensions cutting through on the other side.

Well... that’s all I have to say I guess. After a while, the sun came up and I marched over to the first place that looked like it could help. You... you can help, yes? I really don’t want to deal with Jan. Ugh, I’m gonna have to call him, aren’t I? Oh, I hate having to deal with bull like this. So you can... close... no no no, I don’t want you to CLOSE the hole. That’s where- it’s so nice and pretty. I just want... wait, why DID I come here? I don’t... no. NO. I do NOT want you to undo anything that has happened! I don’t care what I said when I came in here, nothing needs to change. I won’t let anything change.

What’s what? What do you mean? Oh, I’m just getting out some jam. Yeah, I took all the jam with me. Well, all the ones that didn’t fall in anyway. Yes, I’m absolutely certain. You cannot quote-unquote “fix” anything. You know what? I won’t even let you onto my home. You’re too insistent. That pit... I- I don’t much about it but I know it’s where the creatures came from and I one hundred percent can’t risk losing my little friends here. Yes, here. Right here. Of course, they’re here! You just can’t see them. I can’t either, not right now at least. Oh, it’s no big deal, they just follow me everywhere. Calm down. Not much I could do about it and if I could why would I even want to? You have my statement, I’ll be on my way now.

I said... I’ll be... on my way...

No. You can’t touch them, they don’t like you. No. NO! Get away from them! I WON’T LET Y-

[Recording End]

---

[Recording Begins]

Follow up:

All digital follow up has been redacted.

The reason is listed as confidential, however, that is only a routine precaution. There will be no reprimand for any violations. It is not recommended you try, though.

Anyone who has attempted to review digital information about this case has reported suffering migraines and difficulty recalling the information to the point of uselessness. Several attempts were made to make physical copies but the pages printed out incomplete or blank. Attempts at writing it by hand proved to have even more disastrous strain on the mind. With no idea how to prevent this, or how dangerous it could become, we were forced to simply stop the work.

As for evidence that IS accessible, besides this recording, we have a few polaroids of the so called “Trench” as well as the attempts to un-digitalize the information. Within all attempts any personal information is absent. We have no name, no age, no phone number, no address, nothing. We DID manage to track down this “Jan” that was spoken of.

Jan Preswer is indeed a landlord but had no information we weren’t already able to salvage from the records. In fact, he didn’t have a lot of information in general. He was rather standoffish on the matter in a way we later realized stemmed from fear. When we pressed he eventually relented and gave us access to an apartment he claimed was “dangerous to think about” which is where we were able to take the pictures. There was nothing in the place that could identify the speaker. There was nothing there at all, not even interior walls, except the hole. It was exactly as described except smaller, only about a fourth a meter wide. When we returned the next day it was completely gone.

Because we have no real way to continue investing and because the issue seems to have resolved itself we are placing this entire case on hold. All we can do is wait and watch. I, personally, recommend keeping a close eye on the amount of stolen jam and bread.

Wherever this person went they seem to have taken all of the creatures with them. We have had no reports or sightings of any kind despite the panic from having them in the buidling.

They honestly didn’t seem so bad... the creatures, I mean. The way they were described they sounded... docile. Curious. Friendly, even. Granted, this is clearly not what anyone would call a “reliable source” but they must be coming from somewhere and this IS one of our most tame cases, possibly ever. They must be interesting to observe, at the very least. I wish I was able to see one of them if only to understand for a moment.

Maybe I should start setting out some jam, haha.

That... was a joke. Record it here, that was a joke. Don’t try that. It would be incredibly irresponsible to attempt to recreate a situation described in a statement no matter the possible discoveries, personal feelings, or… general lure… of the...

What… what was I doing? Uh… yeah this- this case is closed unless something else comes up. That’s not how I’m supposed to sign these things off but I’m… can’t… huh.

You know, I’m really hungry. That’s probably it. Goodness, I can’t remember that last time I ate. Gonna go get some… toast or something…

[Recording End]

#woah those are words I wrote #writing practice #writing prompt

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 27)

The sky was a watercolor backdrop of searing oranges and yellows and pastel pink. Against it, holding a surfboard was a petite silhouette. “She’s too small to be any good.” Chan remarked.

“I thought that it was the other way around, dude.” Ruon Jian shrugged.

“Maybe if you have the right size surfboard. That one’s too big for her.”

To this Ruon had nodded in agreement. It didn’t bother Jet like it bothered the rest of the team. Chan and his girlfriend were particularly annoyed by the mistake. They could tell that she was new to the sport, unlike themselves. They have been doing it since childhood.

Truth be told, they were afraid of her. Afraid that her mistakes would cost their team a victory that they hadn’t even had a chance to begin working towards. That first practice was a mess. Jet had watched her rather closely; every time she lost balance and every time she charged towards the wave too early or too late. She never seemed to have them timed right, could never seem to sense the water in the way a seasoned surfer would. She just didn’t have the connection.

She took a deep breath. It was an hour and a half into a three hour long practice and she had yet to pull off even the most basic maneuver. But more than anything, Azula wanted to make her father proud. Truthfully, she had come to decide, within the first twenty minutes, that she hated surfing. It didn’t come naturally to her as volleyball did. She was furious with herself for having missed volleyball tryouts in favor of trying something new.

She could have been on her way to becoming the star athlete of the middle school team. She could have been an hour and a half into praise and cheers. Instead her teammates were glaring at her. Even the coach’s formerly sympathetic eyes were clouding with impatience. She knew that he’d only let her on the team because of her father and his father’s legacy.

She also knew that it was becoming abundantly clear that she didn’t share the family talent. She cast one more forlorn and longing glance at the volleyball in her sports bag before closing her eyes, readying her surfboard, and dashing towards the water.

This time she was going to do it. She knew that she had timed the wave right. If only she had timed throwing her surfboard down correctly. Another wave took the board out from under her feet.

No one bothered to tell her that she was supposed to go belly down and paddle out to the wave.

Not even the coach.

She was never one to quit. The only thing more dishonorable than a failure was a quitter. She would ride the failure out and probably with more success than riding any wave. A week into her new sport and she was only just starting to catch onto paddling out.

Azula was certain that balance wouldn’t be a problem. Toph had been kind enough to let her borrow her skateboard. The way she and Toph saw it, skateboarding was basically surfboarding without water. She did just fine maintaining her balance on the skateboard and by the end of the night she was even doing some decent tricks.

So why the hell couldn’t she catch onto surfing?

She came to find that it was a simple as not being able to catch a wave. As simple as not knowing what to do when she finally did. She knew that once she figured out how to pop up that she would be able to stay standing and ride it out, but the waves were relentless and knocked her into the blue before she had a chance.

Three days into week two was when she finally broke down. She was crying on Sokka’s bed about how Zuzu was mad at her for trying to one up him and how it wasn’t worth it because she wasn’t even good. How she wished she would have just gone for volleyball.

He treated her to ice cream that she didn’t think she deserved, but Kya had insisted and Hakoda and Katara made it special.

Jet watched her cross the beach. “I’m surprised she’s even showing up still.” Chan’s girlfriend had commented.

“I wouldn’t if I was that awful.” Ruon noted.

“I wonder if her dad beats her for not being able to carry on the family legacy.” Jet didn’t know the girl’s name but even Chan looked at her and muttered, “too far.” Jet might have slapped her if he didn’t have a moral code.

Azula held her head as high as she could for how many times the waves pulled it under. She had enough grace, he could see it in the way she paddled, the way she cut seamlessly through the waves. He could tell that she was getting used to timing and catching the waves. But she never managed to fully stand up and the one time she did, she hadn’t known what to do next.

He watched her drag herself and her board back to shore. Long locks of hair hung down her back, shimmering in the setting sun. She wore a seashell bracelet around her slender wrist. Her skin was tanned nicely and her eyes reflected the sunlight so well.

The rest of the team called her the weak link but he called her beautiful.

The rest of the team called her the weak link but he called her untrained.

He spent his entire weekend doing what their coach should have done. And she caught on fast. Who would have thought that actually teaching her what to do would have made such a significant difference.

When Monday came around, she walked onto the beach with a surfboard fitted to her smaller stature and a more confident stride.

If she could have some success with a board that was not properly sized, she could do wonders with this board.

For the first time she’d managed to catch a wave. Albeit, not on her first or even fourth try. But ten minutes in, she caught one and rode it out. Practices went that much smoother, she was beginning to learn and perform the basics.

It wasn’t the remarkable and impressive transformation she had hoped for.

It was so ordinary.

But it was enough to bring her from dead last to third from the bottom--and on a good night, four away from it.

The season had ended and she vowed to do volleyball next year. But the next year rolled around and her teammates were disappointed to see her dragging her board up the beach.

A summer practicing with Jet and Sokka had done wonders.

Chan, his now ex-girlfriend, Ruon, and the rest of the team hadn’t been there to see her practice. It was just as well. It was more satisfying.

She went first. Her paddling was stronger, her carves smoother, her balance expectedly impeccable. She pulled off her first roundhouse cutback.

Azula was a thrill for Jet to watch, she always was. That determined and driven look and the victorious one that usually followed. They were stunning. She was stunning. Especially now that confidence was thrown into the mix. He more than admired her haughty stride back up the beach and past the rest of the team, “you’re up Chan.”

.oOo.

Azula takes Sokka’s hand and they slowly pad along the sand. He is so close to the sea that almost took him and yet he grins, wide and beaming. It is probably because he is with her. He stops to brush the hair out of her face.

He leans in for his kiss only to get a mouthful of hair courtesy of the wind throwing it back across her face. He sweeps it aside again and this time she holds it back.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head up, she looks serene and blissful.

It makes him want to hurl.

Jet turns away before their lips make contact. With more force than necessary, he takes another bite of his chili dog. He doesn’t even like chili! Yet the flavor is still more pleasant than the look of Sokka locking lips with his ex.

He feels bad for feeling so appalled considering how much less tense she is, but it hits him quite mercilessly that he could have never made her feel that way. If only he’d met her first. If only he had been the childhood friend.

If only he’d asked her for a date when he’d first had the urge. That day when he saw her silhouetted against the sunset with a surfboard in hand.

Maybe if he’d held her a little closer when teaching her to balance. Maybe if he’d cheered her on a little more, she would have asked him.

Maybe he would be walking down the beach with her. Instead he finds himself furious. After everything he’d done for her, she’d snub him like this? It was he who helped her work from no skill whatsoever to the surfer that the rest of the team strived to be.

He helped get her through the past few months of summer and now she was ignoring him more or less completely.

“Still brooding?” Katara asks.

He takes another angry munch of his chili dog.

“Why are you watching them make out if it makes you angry?”

He thinks that maybe he wants to be angry because that is better than feeling let down, used, and miserable. “Maybe if I watch hard enough, she’ll see my charm and makeout with me instead.” He mutters.

“Ew.” Zuko grumbles. Apparently the concept of it is enough to drive him right back to the smoothie bar. Granted, he makes a similar face when he gets within sound range of the couple. Jet swears that if Sokka had the strength, he would quite literally lift her off of her feet.

Thankfully he is still too weary for that and has to settle for a careful hug. “I’m going to go share a smoothie with Zuko, you want anything?” Katara offers.

He shakes his head.

“You sure? We’re going to be heading back tomorrow, so now’s your last chance to have one.”

“I’m sure.”

He hears that light and warm laugh and frowns deeper. He wants to be happy for Azula, he truly does. But he can’t force happiness. He hears the shifting of sand and a shadow falls over him.

“Exactly how long do you plan on staring at my daughter for?”

Jet tenses up. He gives his body enough slack to muster up a single shrug. “Until she stops being so annoyingly beautiful, I guess.” He, to Ozai’s dissatisfaction, slips up.

“If that is the only reason you are upset to have lost her, than you didn’t deserve her.”

He wonders how many times Sokka was told that he wasn’t good enough for Azula, if he had been told at all. “It isn’t. It’s just the easiest reason to explain.”

When the girl’s father doesn’t respond, he continues. “She’s talented and clever. She’s…” his mind wanders back to the stormy beach. “Strong and determined. I think that she might be unstoppable…”

Ozai nods. “Even so. You knew what this trip was about when you stepped aboard the ship. It is not her fault that you were not prepared for the outcome.” He pauses and clasps his hands behind his back, fixing Jet with a stern look. “If you trouble her over her decision, I assure you that there will be a free spot on your surf team.”

Jet suppresses a scowl. The old man did more to hurt his daughter than Jet himself could ever hope to do and he had half the mind to inform him of such. He curbs his tongue. “I don’t want to hurt her.” But he wishes that she wouldn’t hurt him. “Should I talk to her?”

Ozai shakes his head. “Unless it is about surfing or another mundane topic. She will speak to you about it when she is ready.”

Jet sighs and rests his chin in his hands as Ozai makes his way towards the smoothie bar. He feels as out of place as Azula must have while carrying a surfboard much too large for her. He doesn’t belong on this trip. With this family.

Azula leads Sokka back to their beach towel and, in the shade of their umbrella, begins unpacking lunch. It probably has all of Sokka’s favorites.

He hears the sand sift again and the clunk of a glass on the wooden table. “There’s a shot of rum in yours. Don’t you dare mention it to anyone on this beach.”

Jet takes his beverage and sipis it. “And yours.”

Ozai holds out his receipt. There is only one alcoholic drink and Jet can taste the rum on his.

“You could use a drink, boy.”

Azula settles into Sokka’s arms and Jet can’t disagree.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Jetzula #Jet #Zuko #Katara #Ozai #Fanfiction

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years

Text

Rule The World with Me-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Story Summary: Ivar travel's to Kiev to escape his brothers, where he meets you and hopes that you will be his queen.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Thora Comes To Kiev

Chapter Summary: Thora comes to Kiev and things get tense. Ivar feels the baby kick for the first time!

Word Count 1,793

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff

_____________________________________

2 weeks later….

Thora is coming to Kiev today. Ubbe sent us news of her leaving Kattegat and that she should be here soon. Hvitserk is so excited to see his beloved. He hasn't seen her in a while, not since Prince Dir's threat. That's when he pronounced that he was staying until the birth of your child. You and Ivar are walking around the town holding hands. It hasn't snowed in a few days, which makes you oh so happy.

Ivar "Thora is coming today."

"Oh yes, I read Ubbe's letter."

Ivar "She doesn't like me very much."

"Why is that?"

Ivar "Uhhh..I threatened to burn her alive when I was king of Kattegat.."

"IVAR!"

Ivar "I know, I know! I was a different man before I met you, Princess."

"Well, I'm sure if you apologize then she will forgive you."

Ivar "I hope so. I regret it, princess. I really do."

"I know."

Ivar "Please know that I would never hurt you, my love." You stop walking to grab your husband's face so that he would look at you.

"I know, baby. You were different back then. I don't fear you, Ivar. You are my husband and I love you." He smiles and leans down to put a soft kiss to your lips.

Ivar "Thank you for loving me. No one else did before you. But they had every right not to."

"What happened to not thinking about the past?"

Ivar "Well, having Thora stay with us until Hvitserk goes back home made me reflect back on who I used to be. What I did to her. It makes me sick to my stomach."

"Why don't you just tell her what you just told me? If you poor your heart out to her and tell her that you are sorry, she will forgive you..or at least try to."

Ivar "Yeah...you are right, my sweet. How is the baby today?"

"Still growin! I felt a little kick earlier this morning!"

Ivar "You did?! What great news!"

"Yes! It felt so strange."

Ivar "You are going to be an amazing mother, Y/n."

"And you are going to be an amazing father, Ivar."

Ivar "That's a promise I will always keep. I will always try to be the father that mine was not." You give him puppy dog eyes and he chuckles. He kisses your nose and you both start walking. Hvitserk comes outside a short while later and joins you both.

Hvitserk "Hey. How is my godchild doin' on this fine day?"

You chuckle at him grabbing your medium sized belly, "He is doing fine!"

Hvitserk "He??"

Ivar "I had a vision Hvitserk. It's a boy." Hvitserk picks you up and spins you around, making you laugh so hard that you almost peed yourself!

Ivar "EASY!"

Hvitserk "Oh Ivar! I'm not going to break her!" He places you down and kisses your forehead, "This is wonderful news Y/n."

"Yes. Ivar is going to have a son!" Ivar looks down at you and smiles with pure love. He caresses your cheek, making you blush.

Hvitserk "Is Thora-" He gets cut off by horses coming into the gates, "Never mind! She's already here!"

He runs towards the horse drawn carriage like a little kid runs to its parents.

Ivar "Look at him." You both start laughing.

"Don't make fun, I ran to you like that two weeks ago."

Ivar "I know you did, but you are my wife-"

"Oh so if we got separated for awhile, you wouldn't run to me?!"

Ivar "Well...I would try!" He looks down at his legs and I immediately feel bad.

"Oh baby I am so sorry-"

Ivar "No don't be, my love. I would run to you. So you are right, Hvitserk has every right to run to his beloved."

Hvitserk kisses his woman and walks her over to you and Ivar. Ivar tenses up and grabs your hand. You squeeze it reassuringly to tell him not to be so worried.

Hvitserk "Thora, this is Y/n, Y/n this is Thora."

"It is so nice to meet you!"

Thora "You as well! Hello Ivar."

Ivar nods, "Thora." You could cut the tension with a knife.

Thora "So! You are with child!"

"Oh yes, I am!"

Thora "With...Ivar's?"

"Yes of course! He is my husband…"

Thora "Oh I know, I just didn't think that it was possible for-"

Hvitserk "Thora...don't"

Ivar "Listen to him, Thora." You knew Ivar was starting to get upset.

"Would you like to come inside? I will have my maiden's show you where you will be sleeping." She smiles and walks with you while Hvitserk and Ivar stay back.

Hvitserk "Ivar I-"

Ivar "SHE JUST GOT HERE! And she is already belittling me!" He points in her direction and digs his crutch into the ground.

Hvitserk "I...She was just shocked, that's all. It is a miracle brother." Ivar clenches his jaw and stiffens his lips.

Ivar "I was going to apologize for threatening her..but not anymore."

Hvitserk "What?"

Ivar "I was going to apologize for threatening to burn her alive a while ago….but not anymore."

Hvitserk "Don't go back to your old ways now, Ivar."

Ivar "I won't. I love my wife too much for that. She doesn't need to be treated like she used too. Your girl on the other hand-"

Hvitserk "Don't you even-"

Ivar "Relax. It wasn't a threat. I was simply pointing out a fact." And just like that, Ivar walks away from his brother.

…

Once you are done showing Thora around the house, you meet back with Ivar. His face was in a scowl and his hands were clenched in fists. That is until he saw you. As soon as he sees you, he relaxes and a smile forms on his face.

"Hi, my love."

Ivar "Hello beautiful. Did you show Thora around?"

Thora walks up behind me, "Yes she did. It is very lovely here!"

Ivar "Thank you. This place is all Y/n. This is her kingdom, I am just ruling by her side."

Thora "Oh very nice. Maybe that is why everything is so nice-"

Hvitserk "Thora! Can I speak to you alone for a moment!" Hvitserk grabs Thora by the arm and drags her into their bedroom that they now share together.

Ivar "You FORGOT TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE CRIPPLE!"

You laugh at his snarky remark and lean into his side, "I don't like her very much...she is very pompous."

Ivar "Yes. I don't know what Hvitserk sees in her."

"Well he loves her and for that we have to try to love her, okay?"

Ivar "I won't love her, but I can try to like her. For you."

"Don't do it for me, do it for Hvitserk."

Ivar "Without you, I would've kicked her out by now.."

"Honestly, I don't blame you for feeling that way. This baby will be here soon and it'll just be me, you and the baby."

Ivar grabs your belly and smiles, "I can't wait, my sweet."

__________________________________

Thora and Hvitserk come out of the bedroom a half an hour later. You didn't know what took so long but I guess you were going to find out. Hvitserk sits down next to you in the formal room and Thora continues to stand.

Thora "Ivar..I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was still mad at you, for what you did. I lashed out...and I am sorry."

Ivar "Thank you Thora. I would like to apologize as well. I was a different man back then, I am now changed. I regret threatening you and I would take it back if I could. I don't want you to fear me any longer because I would never hurt you...unless you try to harm my wife-"

Thora "I would never-"

Ivar "I know..so you don't have to fear me, alright?"

Thora "Yes. And I will try to forgive you, just give me some time?"

Ivar "Of course."

Thora "If you don't mind me asking? What did change you?"

Ivar looks over to you, and pulls you into his side, "My wife. She did."

Thora simply nods and then takes a seat next to Hvitserk.

Hvitserk "Now that that is all out of the way, let's eat, huh?"

"That sounds like a lovely idea!"

….

The feast went well. No arguments occurred and it was quite pleasant. After Thora apologized she was like a whole different person! She was kind, sweet, loving even. She was laughing and kidding around with Hvitserk and just having a blast. That made you happy to see Hvitserk happy. Now you are starting to understand why he loves her so much.

Thora "You are very beautiful, Y/n."

"Awe thank you Thora, as are you!"

Thora "Ivar is a very lucky man!"

Ivar "And lucky I am."

Hvitserk "So am I!! I mean look at you!!"

Ivar "Brother...you are drunk."

Hvitserk "No I am not! I am simply complimenting my woman."

Thora "okay, okay let's get you to bed." He stumbles all the way to the bedroom, making you and Ivar laugh in your seats.

Ivar "Oh man, him being drunk is too much."

"He got very handsy!"

Ivar "Mmmm speaking of handsy, go to the bedroom.."

"Oooh.."

Ivar "Get ready for me, kitten. I'll be in soon." You do as you were told and got ready for your husband to come in the room. You can't get over how much he fancies you even though you are almost four months pregnant.

….

After you two are done making love, Ivar lays his head on your belly. He wants to feel a kick and he will stay like this all night if he has too. You play with his hair as he messages your belly.

"Mmm that feels nice."

Ivar "You are too perfect, my love." You smile and hum to yourself. You love your husband so much it hurts but in the best way. "I WANNA FEEL A KICK!"

"Hmm. Maybe if you tell him a story, he will move around. He could be sleeping." Ivar agrees and tells him a story about the gods. Telling him all of the names of all the gods and what their powers were. Towards the end of the story, you started to fall asleep until you felt a kick. Ivar looks up at you with a shock on his face.

Ivar "I….I felt it! I-Oh my gods!"

You giggle at his amazement, "See, strange right!?"

Ivar "No not strange! It's beautiful! I...I love you." You see tears form into his eyes from pure happiness. "I love you so much." He moves off of your tummy to kiss you.

"I love you so much too. We both do my love."

_____________________________________

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @desiredposion @ivaraddict @ivarthebonelessvk @ivar-andersen @ivarlothbrok @ivarthebonelesspage @ivarthebloodyking

#alex hogh andersen #alex hogh andersen smut #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk #marco ilsø #torvi vikings #rule the world with me

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iris-somnia · 3 years

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Catch Up Tag 🌸

Tagged by beautiful angels @yeoldontknow to do this catch up tag. Thank you, dear!

1. What do you prefer to be called name-wise?

I use Iris here, but I have other pseudonyms on other profiles in order to protect myself. I never use my real name online.

2. When is your birthday?

Late February.

3. Where do you live?

I’m currently living in a hotel I can’t afford long term. I hope to find permanent shelter soon but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard as hell.

4. Three things you are doing right now?

I’m AFK fishing on Black Desert Online because they’re doing the fishing event that gives free money and if I can’t be rich irl, I can at least be the big cheese with an avatar that looks like an eight-year old forest nymph. I’m also listening to WayV because they’ve consistently held up as a good choice no matter what mood I’m in this year. In about 15 minutes, I’ll resume watching the Crown and doing my sticker book (my guilty pleasure during homelessness).

5. Four fandoms that have peaked your interest?

Honestly, I’ve avoided fandoms this year because people really don’t know how to take a breath and enjoy shit. Most kpop fandoms have a subset of older fans who I enjoy interacting with because they only talk about the music and performances, but there are other wings of fans who are so obsessed with winning and being all-powerful that I don’t even want to listen to the music anymore because it’ll feed the monster.

The accounts/mutuals who I’ve enjoyed the most this year have been Starlights, Insomnia, Sirens (Chloe x Halle), and Warriors & Weirdos (Aurora). I’m seeing some promising reasons to get back into video game fandoms but lord, there’s so much drama in most of the companies that I am holding back.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you?

No one in my immediate family has gotten sick, but I did have to bury my grandmother this spring and many family couldn’t come to her service because of the restrictions. Some of my colleagues have COVID. Many more lost their jobs because of it and most of them who were laid off were done so under false pretenses and I’m still mad.

I’m working remotely, but a budget scare earlier in the year motivated my employer to announce a furlough for many of us, only to rescind it a couple of days before it went live. By then, I had already lost my apartment and had packed all my shit in storage. I’ve been couch surfing and living in hotels since August and it’s cost me thousands of dollars. I’ve learned that when you don’t have a permanent address, people assume you’re a junkie even when you wash your ass. I’ve had a lot of disappointments this year in terms of human behavior, but vices like alcohol and beautiful women keep me level enough to stay out of the deep end. That, and I meditate a lot.

I have lost all my patience with assholes though, especially ones who puff up at me in public like I’ll be intimidated and fold. Confrontation and avoidance are two sides of the same coin and I keep flipping it like a gambler. I’m either pretending they’re dead or I’m ripping a new asshole in a way that makes those eyes pop like “oh shitttttt.” When I’m no longer in survival mode with my housing, I hope to go back to understanding the nuances of lived experience. Until then, it’s eat or be eaten and I absolutely hate living black & white like that.

7. A song you can’t stop listening to?

Megan Thee Stallion - Realer.

8. Recommend a movie?

1917 (2019) - It’s a British war film that has some of the best cinematography I’ve seen in many years. I was on the edge of my seat with chest pains but wow.

9. How old are you?

10. School, university, occupation, other?

Employed at a non-profit that profits off human suffering. I work there as a form of prostitution because of my student loans but I’m considering going into a different training program so I can leave and work for myself. It’ll take a couple years to save up.

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

I refer 70 degrees F because my winter coat’s in storage.

12. Name one fact others may not know about you?

I have two history degrees and used to teach civics, U.S. history, and world history for a living. That’s why I’ve taken this year’s politics harder than your average citizen and it’s why my Twitter account is raging against elected officials half the time. Historians don’t shut off.

13. Are you shy?

Eh, not really anymore. I trained out of it because shyness kept me from earning money. Now I’m selectively withdrawn because I understand that the more people I interact with, the more likely I’ll need a nap.

14. Preferred pronouns?

She/her

15. Biggest pet peeves?

1 - People not wearing masks when my region has run out of hospital beds. 2 - Ghosting with no explanation. I would rather be told, “I lied, I hate you,” because it gives closure. Ghosting always means billable therapy hours as I revisit why I’m preparing for a life alone. 3 - Not tipping food service staff. If you don’t tip food service workers, fuck you.

16. What is your favorite ‘dere’ type?

In anime/manga, I enjoy goudere characters for comic relief. 17. How would you rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be?

A solid 5 which will jump to a 7 when I have permanent shelter.

18. What is your main blog?

It’s a reblog of my non-kpop interests: @my-astral-wanderlust

19. Is there something people need to know about you before they become friends?

Honestly, I probably should consider myself anti-friend or at least perpetually unlucky with my track record.

I go through periods of time where I can’t communicate well for medical reasons and it’s not a reflection on that friend as a person, but rather a challenge I’ve lived with since childhood. It could be walls of text or radio silence depending on how much I trust someone and that’s always to my own peril. Withdrawal from socializing is common during time periods when I know I’m likely to hurt someone’s feelings, especially if I love them and care about their emotional safety. I struggle a lot sharing vulnerabilities and true feelings to friends because I have many memories and experiences of people telling me they loved me and then using those vulnerabilities as ammunition to hurt me later. I’ve had many ex-friends lie about the kind of person I am when talking to friends/family, on everything from sexuality to appearance to interests to how we know each other. That, and many who claim to be my friend ditch me the moment I call out shitty behavior like lying to me or not keeping promises.

With that kind of track record, I’ll take a nice dog. Trusting people is almost unattainable and while it’s a sad state of affairs, I’d rather not get actively hurt constantly.

tagging: ...I think a lot of my mutuals have already been tagged here but my memory isn’t good right now. Sooo if you want to be tagged, consider yourself tagged!

#iris talks

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spidxysense · 5 years

Text

Back to You | 03

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Hi guys! I’m back! I took a much needed break from writing when my dog died so I’m sorry for the lack of updates until now, but I might release another chapter later if I can get enough brain juice working to squeeze more out, hope you guys like this one, just a bit of a filler chapter to lead me to what I have planned upcoming (If you know what I mean, or if you have any predictions on what I could mean, message or ask or comment them and I’ll answer them.) If you have any questions about the fic or the characters in the fic, feel free to ask me as well. GREAT TO BE BACK GUYS AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!

Word count: 2,562

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3

“For our next guest, why don't we all watch this clip from her latest movie?" Ellen gestured for the video to play as the audience cheers while your performance for Rewrite the Stars plays on the screen behind her.

Once the video ends, the screams get louder. You walk out, waving happily at the audience and finding your seat on the guest chair.

"So, Y/N. It's been months since the Greatest Showman premiered and it's still up there in the Billboard top 100, I heard you wrote some of the songs?"

You shook your head, smiling so hard that you were squinting, "No! No! I just helped!"

"Pish posh, everyone here has watched Ben Hardy's interview here." Ellen waves you off as the crowd goes wild, "He told us your wrote some lyrics."

You wait for the audience to die down, "I will kill him." You laugh, "I'm kidding, he was just being a good friend."

Ellen sends a look at the camera, "Y/N is still friendzoning Ben!" She laughs as she points to you and the audience laughs, she turns to you, "I have seen compilations of Ben Hardy in interviews saying you’re his crush and yet here you are still friendzoning him, is nobody good enough?"

The smile on your face slightly falters, but it's something Ellen and the audience notices because suddenly it's quiet, "Well, I just don't think I'm ready. Ben's cute and all but not the type of person I think I'm looking for right now." You smile sady at Ellen. Ben and Tom were very boyish and charming, sharing similarities in their personalities that sometimes, you could see Tom in Ben sometimes, “I mean, Tom was a great guy.” You bite back the tears and swallow the words that seemed stuck in your throat, “and no offense to anybody but following that, I just need more time to find someone that can be as great as Tom was or even better, because we have to treasure how we’re being treated before anything else.”

Ellen gives you an understanding smile as the audience cheers, patting your knee, "Well, how's it been? We haven't seen you since your press tour, and even then you didn't come here alone since you were with the cast."

You shrugged, "I just think I needed some time to reflect and get a feel of what I want, wrote some songs, you know, I let inspiration flow through me."

"And speaking of songs." A picture of texts between you and Ellen pop up on the screen, "It says there, you promise you'd give me an update on that upcoming album, and I told you I'd tell you when I want to hear it." The crowd goes crazy, "And I want to hear it now."

You give the audience a sheepish smile, “I mean…is that what you guys really want?” You gesture towards the audience before they’re screaming and applauding in their seats.

Ellen gives them a “well what do you know” look and turns to you, “I think they said yes.” she laughs, “You haven’t released an album in years, there were the occasional singles or collaborations, but no live performances or music videos either.”

You rub your arm, the last time you went on tour was the one Tom visited and that was one of the hardest tours you had to finish, you just had so much anxiety and panic in you head that would lead to cancellations and that would just end up making you feel bad so Tom came up with the idea to not do anything that made you uncomfortable for the meantime or a few months, but those few months ended up getting longer until they reached to this point, and it wasn’t like Tom never encouraged you to get out there and write music, or act in the occasional project or two, but it was just something you felt you couldn’t physically do. In you eyes, Tom was social enough for the both of you.

“Well,” You clasp your hands together, “I’ve been hard at work in the studio, and I’m proud to announce that I’ll be releasing an album, but not just one.” The audience gasps before applauding once more, “I’ve written so many songs that I had enough to make two albums out of them so I’ll be releasing them when I feel I’ve written everything in my heart and I am honestly so excited for everyone to hear what I’ve been working on not just the past few months but also the past few years.”

“Alright, well we’ve got time for one more game here, since it wouldn’t be a Y/N guesting if we didn’t play at least one game with you here, so in commemoration of your singlehood, I’ve set up the Who’d You Rather.”

You gape at Ellen, “Who’d you rather what, Ellen?!” The audience laughs.

She shrugs, “I’ll make a follow up game for you, ‘What would you rather’ and we’ll play it here on your next visit.” She gives you a cheeky smile before turning to face the screen behind the two of you.

The screen flashes to two pictures, one on the left side and one on the right side.

“Oh wow, you’ve got pictures.” You tilt your head at the choices, it was between Nicholas Hoult and Liam Hemsworth, “Well, Liam’s with Miley, and she’d kill me if I picked her hubby, and Nicholas Hoult has been in so many great movies, I mean have you seen him in Mad Max?!”

Ellen laughs, “I love how you’re treating this so seriously.”

You give her a confused look, “Was I not supposed to?” You gape at her as she waves her hand in the air.

“No no! Keep going just keep doing you!” She laughs.

You laugh, snorting slightly and turning to the audience, “What if they’re all just lined up backstage waiting for who I pick.” They laugh with you.

You shut your eyes, “Alright, I pick Nicholas Hoult! He’s older than me though.” You point out, then the picture of Liam changes to Ansel Elgort, “I have listened to his EDM soundtracks!” You jump in your seat excitedly.

Ellen shoots the audience a look, “Ansel it is, then.” They laugh.

The picture of Nicholas turns to Dylan O’Brien, “Okay, this is unfair, I’m pretty sure you had a list of things I liked and just found people in them, I mean!” You gesture towards the screen, “That’s Stiles!” The crowd cheers loudly, “You can’t ask me to pick between Stiles and Augustus Waters, are you kidding me? But, yeah, Stiles please.”

Ellen bursts out laughing, “Alright, Dylan, who’s next?”

Nick Robinson replaces the picture of Ansel, “Oh, alright, Love, Simon? Yes please, Nick Robinson please.”

Ellen gapes at you, “You need to pick a lane.”

You gasp, “I thought I was just playing a game?!” The audience laughs, and suddenly the picture of Dylan o’Brien is replaced by a picture of Tom Holland and suddenly, you can hear a pin drop in the room.

You make a ‘no big deal’ face at the screen, “Well, that’s unfair, that’s the love of my life, I choose Tom!” Suddenly the tension s no more and everyone is cheering for their favorite couple and you’re smiling out at the crowd but you feel your heart breaking into pieces.

“Alright, next is Ben Hardy!” The crowd laughs as you roll your eyes, “Obviously, Tom.” The crowd gets louder.

Then it’s between Nat Wolff and Tom, “Oh, I starred in that movie with him a few years back! Nat if such a sweetheart! But Death Note was terrible, I told him not to do it.” You shake your head at him, “Tom.”

Nat’s picture transitions to Logan Lerman, “Oh my god, I had such a big crush on him! We went out once when I was like 15 or 14 and I hadn’t met Tom yet and I remember he was such a gentleman but he was nervous about getting caught out on a date with me because we were both just starting out and you know how fans can be.” You sigh at the fond memory, “Tom.” The audience aws at the fact that you still picked Tom.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar face pops up as you stare at the picture in confusion and unfamiliarity.

“That’s Timothee Chalamet.” Ellen points out, “Isn’t he pretty?” Ellen gives a wink to the audience, as they laugh already expecting you to choose Tom over this celebrity you didn’t even know.

You hum, “There's something about him.” You furrowed your eyebrows, “I mean yeah, he’s beautiful but look at his eyes, I mean, wow.” You look at the screen, “I pick Timothee.”

Ellen’s eyes widen, as the audience gasps in surprise and Tom’s picture is replaced by Michael B. Jordan, “Oh wow, Killmonger and Creed.” The audience laughs.

“I think I’ll stay with Timothee.” Michael B. Jordan gets replaced by Cameron Monaghan, “He was absolutely wonderful as the Joker, have you seen him in Gotham?”

Ellen nods, “I thought they would for sure cast him in the movies, it’s so crazy how good he is!”

“I’ll pick Timothee.” You give Ellen a tight lipped smile as an applause starts to build up in the audience.

“Alright, this next one has really nice eyes as well.” The picture turns into that model you’ve seen now and again, with that peculiar name, Lucky Blue Smith.

You give an intake of breath, “I don’t know Ellen, I still pick Timothee.”

The picture then turns into Thomas Brodie-Sangster, “Oh! He is such a sweetheart! I met him at the premier to my movie, he is so sweet!” You give Ellen a sheepish smile, “But I’m gonna have to say Timothee.”

“Alright, final round.” Ellen announces, “We’ll bring him back just to make sure. Tom or Timothee?”

You bit your lip, looking hard at the screen, “It’s a tough choice Ellen, but there’s something about Timothee, so I’ll just pick him again.”

“Wow! You ended up with Timothee!” Ellen stand up to hug you, “Come on out, Timothee!”

Suddenly your eyes get big, waiting for a boy to walk from backstage, “Just kidding!”

You let out a sigh of relief, and laugh, “What if all of them were just backstage? That would be hilarious, I would have no idea what to do.” You shake your head as the audience laughs, “It’s so crazy how awkwardly clumsy and uncoordinated I am around boys.”

-----------------------------------------------

You were in the backseat, your manager on the other side of you, typing away on her phone as you stared out the window at the fans lined up outside the studio, "Want to say hi to them?" She suggests.

You shake your head, your chest feeling heavy and your breathing slowing like you were hyperventilating through a plastic bag, "What if one of them pulls me out through the window? Or worse what if they throw things at me?"

She scoffs, "Well, they're fans, they won't hurt you."

You shrug, taking a hard swallow, "What if all of them aren't though?"

Your manager sighs and turns to you, “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, “About what?”

“The big guys in Def Jam want you to do a tour sometime this year or next year.”

You scoff, “No.” You shook your head, “No way.”

“Y/N, they’ve been patient with you. The only reason they’re even willing to keep you on as an artist was because I sent them those songs you gave me to sell to other artists-”

“And we made a lot of money from that!” You groan in exasperation, “Taylor Swift bought majority, and the rest were distributed to other artists, you still hear them on the radio! I made the record label money, and I didn’t even perform, they got a lot of the sales.” you point out.

She sighs, “Look, Y/N, you can make as many songs as you want and sell them to other people, but at the end of the day it’s still not gonna make you as much money as when YOU’RE the one who’s singing them, I think we should look into some professional help for this problem you’ve got going on, maybe see a therapist or look into some medication from a medical professional’s point of view-”

“I didn’t need them before.” You point out.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Yeah, well 5 years ago, I could still run a marathon, but I can’t exactly do that anymore.”

“Whatever this is, I’ll get over it, if I didn’t need a therapist before, then I don’t need one now-”

“You had Tom back then.”

Well that shut you up.

“Now you don’t, and you’ve gotten lazy.” She clenches her jaw, “You did one movie, and after that, what then? You’re back to locking yourself in your room. You have to keep moving, Y/N, keep adapting to stay in the spotlight, through this break up, the cameras and lights were all on you and all you did was lock yourself in your room and drink wine out of a bottle. So I don’t care if you’re making money, not when you’re doing it half-assed-”

“Am I not allowed to be hurt?” You snap, the tears already welled up in your eyes, “Am I not allowed to grieve this relationship that I’ve been in for the past 3 years and have put my whole heart and emotions into? I lost this whole other half of me and now I just feel so empty that sometimes I feel like I can’t function normally and at the end of the day, it’s still him I think about. For three years, all I ever knew was him and I and now that I’m all alone, I don’t even know what to do without him and this whole time it’s been like I was lifted off the ground and now I’m just falling into the earth and all this time I’ve just been waiting for the crash.”

She blinks at you sobbing in your seat as your emotions eat you up, she says nothing but instead embraces you.

“We all lose ourselves, Y/N. Let us help you find yourself.” She rubs your back, “It might be uncomfortable in the beginning, but it will be all worth it in the end.”

You pull away, fixing your clothes, “One step at a time.”

“And speaking of one step at a time.” She hands over her phone, an email opened up to an image of a script.”

“Celia”

Screenplay by

James Ivory

Sequel to the film “Call Me by Your Name” by

Luca Guadagnino

“They’re asking if you’ve read the script.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where the script was. It was stacked together with the other scripts you left unread for the past year, still in your old room. The one you shared with Tom, The same house that Tom lived in now.

You sigh, “I haven’t, but I know where it is.”

“And?”

“It’s in London.”

This gets her attention. “Should we call Troye to get it ready by the time we get back to London?”

“It’s not exactly with Troye at the moment.”

Her eyes widen in realization, “Oh.”

#tom holland #tom x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #back to you #selena gomez #spidxysense #i'm back

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so-shiny-so-chrome · 5 years

Text

Witness: Tyellas

Creator name (AO3): Tyellas

Creator name (Tumblr): thebyrchentwigges

Link to creator works *https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyellas/works?fandom_id=51060

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: I’ve been a fan of postapocalyptic scifi since my teens. But it took me until Fury Road to really fall in love with the world of Mad Max. Living Down Under probably helped.

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?

A: For Mad Max, my style varies very much based on the character point of view. Max's terseness is very different from a History Person's verbal rambling. Recurrent themes for me...Some of them tie back to canon, like the fragility of Wasteland technology and the quirkiness of human nature. There's a lot of geology and a consistent thread of land-based spirituality - an Antipodean influence, there.

Q: Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: Most popular overall – Definitely “Gastown Nights.” Max, Furiosa, sexual tension, adventure in a setting with the Wasteland wildness turned up to 11 – what’s not to like? Most fun – Writing fluff is always fun, even if the world’s falling apart around it. “Very Max, Much Wasteland, Such Dog,” my take on Max Gets A Dog, and “If You Give a Pup a Flamethrower” stand out to me. Most difficult – Several of my Miss Giddy stories were harrowing, “Weave a Circle,” “One Way Ride.” At one point writing “Weave a Circle” I glanced in a mirror and was shocked – shocked! – to not be looking at the face of a tattooed 76-year-old.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?

A: Gritty as, mate, but always with that glimmer of hope. Because that's how it would be.

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: I may jot down a story’s core idea, then let it ferment a few months. I might think I’m writing something just for myself, then it will take on a life of its own. When the time is right, I’ll think and plan around it, then do an outline. I like Kurt Vonnegut’s advice that a character in a story should want something, “even if it’s just a glass of water.” A glass of water is a big thing in Mad Max! For a writing environment, I’m very lucky – I have a home office, a desk chair, a desk specially set up for writing. If part of a story is giving me trouble, I’ll treat it like the eye of the storm. I’ll write around it, write down to it – I’ll write everything but that part! Once the frame is in place around the difficult part, that helps.

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: For Mad Max, Ocker rocker classics from the 70s and 80s. Songs by Goanna, Cold Chisel, Dragon, AC/DC. New Zealander Neil Finn's song "Sinner" always makes me think of Max.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Finding time when I have inspiration, and finding inspiration when I find time.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: I've grown so, so much as a writer. Descriptions, plot, research. Getting over myself and putting that crazy idea out there - and learning that it was worthwhile if it found one reader. Personally, I decided I would probably survive an apocalypse, which is always good to know.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I took the long road around to this one, because it took getting into the Mad Max fandom for it. I'd say I relate the most to...Aunty Entity. She's determined, she's creative, she's femme, and she has excellent taste in henchpeople. Oddly, I've never written about her, for all that I have screeds about Furiosa, the Vuvalini, and the History People. Aunty Entity has aspects of those three. My Furiosa is calculating, fierce, stony, and, after the Fury Road, willing to make terrible decisions for a long-term goal or a greater good. After a mostly Citadel life, she’s used to better living, and both disgusted and horrified/saddened by how others are getting by.

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: All the characters we write about are our shards and our reflections. I do have a draft of a piece for a Self-Insert week that never took off, where I hitch a ride in the Nullarbor desert with some Buzzards.

Q: Do you have any favourite relationships to portray? What interests you about them?

A: I've written smut, and in my fics both canon characters and OCs get laid and find love. "Citadel Nights" is a novel-length fic about love and sex in the Mad Max apocalypse. But the most enduring relationship in my fics, one that all characters deal with, is...their own one with the Wasteland. That post-apocalyptic world around them. For some it's chaos and ruined dreams. For some it's horror yet opportunity. And for some of them, it's simply how it is. My story quartet "Wasteland, Seize My Bones" delves into this in all kinds of ways.

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: For Mad Max, I seek it out and look at it in more detail. Some of it takes some finding. It took me a while to track down the novelization of "Beyond Thunderdome". There were some jaw-dropping interviews with George Miller back in the 80s!

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: I can't help creating in one defined chronology. That's just how my imagination works. Every Mad Max story of mine fits into a timeline. I've sketched out that timeline over two notebook pages, like the nerd that I am.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: For Mad Max, I'm usually in line with canon. Mad Max canon itself is so rich, flexible, and berserk that most of the plots and actions I wanted to write fit right in. Like most fan creators, I did make it gayer.

Q: Share some headcanons.

A: Oh, so many! Have three: - Furiosa wears her keys on the left: Max wears his on the right. - There are two popular headcanons around Miss Giddy: long-term Citadel denizen or Wasteland Survivor Having Adventures. I like the second one better. - Immortan Joe and the Bullet Farmer had a thing going on for a while there.

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: There are OCs and there are "characters who had three frames in the movie/outtake." Very often I'll create an OC to fulfil a plot moment and then...they're not done...they tap my shoulder with more stories. I have a list of my Mad Max original characters for reference. I need it because I have *forty-nine* of them. Wretches, War Boys, Milking Mothers, Wastelanders, antagonists. My favorite OCs are the ones I've spent the most time writing about - if an OC of mine has a POV story, you know I liked them. Or somebody else did and made a request!

Q: If you create original works, how do those compare to your fan works?

A: My original works seem positively sybaritic compared to my Mad Max fan works!

Q: Who are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: There were all these different creative factions – Maxiosa shippers, War Boy lovers, the Gigadumpster focusing on the villains – having fun. That in itself was inspiring. For a while I was unable to read @sacrificethemtothesquid ’s Length and Breadth of Fury Road. Its gravitational field of influence was that strong for me. And I adored the story “The Bullet Farmer’s Daughter” for its ruthless postapocalyptic extremes. For Max and Furiosa and their particular dynamics and madness, I’m influenced by J.G. Ballard – his compelled postapocalyptic wanderers, his cool, in-charge women. For my History People writing, influences include Margaret Atwood, Ursula Le Guin, and Neal Stephenson’s “Anathem”.

Q: What advice can you give someone who is struggling to make their own works more interesting, compelling, cohesive, etc.?

A: The time you spend planning your project helps bring it to life. Thinking, plotting, outlining, deciding your ending and working up to it. If something seems crazy or self-indulgent, but *feels* real or right, there’s emotional truth and weight behind it. Readers will sense that and respond to it. Write it and see what happens. Thanks to our protagonist of few words, Mad Max writers suffer less from verbosity than other fandoms. Still, keep a sentence 20 words or fewer: keep a paragraph 6 – 8 sentences or fewer. Your reader will stay more engaged with your writing.

Q: Have you visited or do you plan to visit Australia, Wasteland Weekend, or other Mad Max place?

A: I'd love to go to Wasteland Weekend sometime, but I live in New Zealand. It's been great to meet up with some fellow Mad Max fans in Australia, and to have Mad Max-like moments when I'm visiting there. Walking down an industrial street, lost, when a gang of masked bikers roar by, disrupting the crows into their own corvid cries...

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: I've got two Mad Max WIPs that will be done, come hell or high water. I'll share their titles: "In the Heart of the Wasteland Sun" and "A Favourite Has No Friend".

Thank you @thebyrchentwigges

#Mad Max Fandom Creator Spotlight #Mad Max Fandom Spotlight #mad max fanfic author spotlight #mad max fanfic #fury road fanfic #Mad max fandom #fury road fandom #tyellas

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moody-by-nature · 5 years

Text

Rescue Me |Chapter Twenty-Four

A bell chimed as Jared pulled the door open for Andrea. Anxiety overwhelming her as their eyes met briefly when she passed by. Not only for herself and the uncertainty of what was going on within her body. But she was also anxious because Jared hadn't said a word to her since she'd told him of the possibility. She couldn't wrap her head around his silence. It's not like he should be surprised, they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Leaving Jared's side, Andrea made her way to the back of the store. Her hands slightly trembling as she grabbed two pregnancy tests and walked to the front.

Jared stood in line at the check out counter with a handful of items. His mind was swimming with the possibility of being a father.

When it was their turn, the couple stepped up to the register, placing their items on the counter. A little Italian lady stood behind the register with a sweet smile on her face as she looked at Andrea.

"You don't need these my dear, I can tell you the answer is yes. You're glowing. How bad is the morning sickness?" She asked.

Andrea panicked, her eyes quickly looking up at Jared to see a look of surprise on his face as he stared at the clerk before turning to look at her.

"Um, it just started yesterday... but it's awful." She replied quietly, returning her gaze to the elderly woman.

The cute little lady looked Jared over and smiled, "This one.. you did well, dear, the baby will be beautiful. Don't worry, he's just in shock too, he'll come around." She picked up one of the items to scan it, "Ah, ginger lozenges. See, he's already thinking of you."

Jared wrapped his arm around Andrea's waist, pulling her close and kissed the top of her head. Burrowing his nose in her hair, inhaling her lavender scent; completely thrown by the accuracy of this elderly woman's words. He was shocked, although he didn't know why, he couldn't keep his hands off of her; of course she was going to get pregnant eventually.

After handing Jared his change, the Italian walked around the counter grabbing Andrea's hands.

"My dear, you have quite a journey ahead of you. Just be patient with him and with yourself, everything will work out in the end." She said with a sweet smile.

"Thank you for being so kind. May I ask what your name is?"

"Yes, my dear. My name is Serafina."

"Serafina. That's lovely!" Andrea exclaimed, "It was great to meet you."

Serafina lifted her eyes to Jared, tapping his arm to get his attention. Her head bobbing between him and Andrea, a pensive look on her face.

"It seems you two are in the middle of an argument. My advice, and I know you're not asking, but I'll tell you anyway..." she giggled, "Get it all out in the air. My Lorenzo and I were married sixty-five years before he passed and I'm sure that's the only way we stayed together. There were days we fought like cats and dogs. A couple times I even wanted to kill him. Same for him, I'm sure, but we always said what was in here." She said, tapping her chest.

Andrea felt the tears welling in her eyes as she fought to keep them at bay. She knew she had to talk to Jared, to finish their conversation about yesterday. A sigh of relief escaped her as Jared squeezed her tighter into his side, rubbing his hand across her hip. She felt that was his way of saying it was going to be okay, and laid her head on his shoulder.

They said their goodbyes to Serafina and headed back towards the cafe. As they sat down, Andrea hid their provisions in her bag, away from the prying eyes of her least favorite person in the group.

After dinner and a shower, Andrea stood naked at the vanity staring at her reflection. Her hands drifted to her tummy as her eyes flitted to the white plastic tube on the counter. Closing her eyes, she lifted the test into the air and took a deep breath.

Here goes everything, she thought.

A small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she saw two pink lines form in the results window. She was going to be a mom.

Rubbing her tummy once more, Andrea stepped into a pair of panties and pulled Jared's black t-shirt over her head. She brushed her wet hair and twisted her dark strands into a braid resting on her shoulder.

Sticking her head out the bathroom door, she saw Jared leaning against the wooden headboard; his left leg over his right. Her eyes falling from his face, deep in concentration looking at his phone, down over his exposed chest.

The steady rise and fall of his chiseled torso became mesmerizing to her. How she loved to fall asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His porcelain skin contrasting against the red and black flannel he wore. She felt her cheeks flush as the memory of her birthday drifted through her mind.

"Are you going to stand there creeping all night or come over here and sit with me?"

Startled by his voice, Andrea jumped making Jared chuckle. Biting her lip, Andrea padded toward him still debating on what to say to him.

"I took the test." Her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. Slipping into bed next to him, sitting back on her legs, her fingers nervously drawing up to play with the end of her braid, she waited for him to speak.

Dropping his phone next to him, Jared placed his hands on her hips, positioning her so that she straddled his lap. Drawing his left hand up to her face, he caressed her face, reveling in her beauty. His eyes eagerly absorbed each freckle that dusted across her nose and the apples of her cheeks. Jared felt his heart swelling with love beyond a capacity he ever thought possible.

"Tell me baby, was the sweet little fortune-teller correct?"

A knot formed at the base of Andrea's throat rendering her speechless. Once again overwhelmed, a stray tear began to fall down her face. Losing the battle with her emotions she began to cry uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry!" Gasping for air, she pulled Jared's hand from her face replacing it with her own.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you yesterday. I don't know why I said it, but I didn't mean it. I know you're still mad at me and I deserve it, but Jared, please forgive me!"

Her body spasmed as she sobbed in his lap, he had never seen her so distraught. Instantly he wrapped his arms around her pulling her flush against him, squeezing her tight. She was right, he was still mad at her and probably would be for a little longer. However, seeing her so distressed was breaking his heart.

"Andrea, calm down baby. Breathe!" His voice loud enough to get her attention. He felt her lungs rapidly expand as she deeply inhaled.

"Breathe, baby, that's it." He cooed, gently rubbing her back as he held her against him.

The welcomed feeling of his arms around her made Andrea feel so safe. She worked to compose herself before sitting back enough to see his face. Needing to feel anchored to him, she rested one hand on his chest as she lifted the other to wipe the tears away.

Jared beat her to it, quickly running his thumbs under her red, puffy eyes, he locked his fingers behind her head, pulling her in, kissing her swollen lips.

"Please tell me you're pregnant so we have an explanation to these mood swings." He said softly, kissing her once more and smiling when Andrea laughed quietly. Not ready to look him in the eyes yet, Andrea wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers finding their way into his long hair.

"I really hope I don't do this the entire time. I'll drive us both crazy."

Jared didn't even attempt to fight the smile that crawled across his face. Pushing back from Andrea just enough to rest his forehead on hers.

"I'll love you anyway." Jared stated.

"Please don't say sweet things like that." Andrea replied, wiping a rogue tear from her right eye. "Apparently that sets them off too." She giggled, motioning to her eyes.

Jared nodded in understanding, lifting her chin with his index finger, "As for yesterday, I may not forget for awhile, but you are forgiven. You are my home Andie, my world. It doesn't matter to me what kind of paper we sign, I meant what I said to you. And I will until the day I die."

"I know," she whispered, "and I meant it too. I love you so much it scares me. I don't want to lose you."

"Never. I promise, Ace." Kissing Andie on the forehead, he asked, "Are you ready to sleep?"

With a nod of her head, Jared moved his phone, placing it on the nightstand. Andrea moved off his lap, snuggling into the fluffy white pillows as she watched him remove his pants and flannel.

Crawling in beside her, he lay on his back. Lifting his left arm in the air, signaling her to curl into her usual position. With a big smile plastered on her face, Andie cuddled into him, drifting off to sleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Andrea occupied an orange plastic chair on the upstairs balcony overlooking the enclosed backyard. The cerulean blue pool water, a perfect pop of color for this evenings festivities; their wedding.

Her gaze drifted to the multiple strands of bistro lights birthed from the white iron railing, stretching across the pool to various points of the vine encrusted cement walls.

White wooden chairs evenly lined each side of the pool for their friends and family. In the center of the ivy-dense wall a makeshift wooden platform covered the hot tub. A gigantic smile gracing her lips as it dawned on her that's where she would say 'I do' to the man of her dreams.

Lifting her phone from her lap, she texted Jared, "I cannot wait to be your wife. I love you, babe. So very much."

"I love you more, darling." Jared replied instantly.

"Fight me. Tonight with our clothes off. 😈"

"Already have a mental list of what I have planned, baby girl. 👹👹👹"

Andrea cackled, shaking her head at his dirty mind and how much she craved that side of him.

"Shannon has me barricaded in the downstairs master or I'd be up there to give you a preview."

"Good. He follows orders well :) Go take a cold shower, J. 😘"

Dropping her phone back in her lap, she turned as she heard the sliding glass door open. Emma and Shayla appeared holding a black garment bag.

"You ready to get started?" Emma asked with a big smile.

"Yes!" Andrea replied with excitement. Jumping to her feet, she followed her friends inside to get ready.

"Your parents should be here within a half hour. The driver called when he started this way."

"Good deal." She smiled, pulling her t-shirt off and stepping out of her jeans as Emma unzipped the garment bag.

Staring at her reflection, Andrea raked her eyes up and down her body. Her fingers gently tracing the delicate lace details of her gown. The deep neckline hugged her breasts perfectly, she knew her husband would be salivating when he saw her in it. Her tummy flipping as she thought of what he planned for them tonight.

Turning around, her eyes dropping from the thin, cap-style sleeves clinging to her shoulders to the dramatic swoop, exposing her entire back, ending just below the dimples in her lower back.

"You look so beautiful!" Emma chirped.

"Yeah," Shayla agreed, "Jared's going to lose his mind!"

Sitting in a chair at the bathroom vanity, Andrea watched Emma as she completed one of her many talents. Emma had created a loose French braid beginning just above each ear that trickled to a voluminous bundle of cocoa curls.

"Almost finished," Emma hummed, pulling tendrils loose from various places, "there. It's perfect! Damn, I'm good." She smirked.

"And humble." Andie giggled, "Thanks, Em. I love it!"

Draping a sheet over the front of her dress, Andrea worked on painting her face. Dabbing the apples of her cheeks with a little blush. Next, she dusted her eyelids with a deep mauve and brushed her eyelashes with her favorite mascara to complete a natural look with a punch of drama.

A loud, rapid knock at the bedroom was heard by the trio in the bathroom before they heard Shannon's muffled voice.

"I'm coming in, everyone decent?" He hollered through the door. "Dee, your mom is here!"

Katherine wasted no time waiting for a response. Bursting through the door she started to yell for her daughter, but got distracted by the size of the bedroom.

Shannon followed behind her, walking up to Andie and giving her a big hug. Once he released her he placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her dress.

"You look stunning Dee, I cannot wait to see Jared's face." He chuckled.

"How is he? I miss him." She said with a pout.

"He had a very similar look on his face when I left him. I've never seen him more excited than he is now."

"Good grief, this bedroom is huge, and what a lovely view!" Katherine shouted, still in her own little world as she looked around the room, meandering towards the large sliding door.

Andrea shook her head at her mothers short attention span. "Yes, mother, that's exactly why I'm marrying him. He's got a nice bedroom." She snarked, smirking playfully at her.

"Young lady, I swear you get sassier by the day!" Katherine chided, finally turning to look at her daughter she gasped. "Andrea, sweetheart, you look beautiful. Give me a spin."

Completing a spin, Andrea caught a glimpse of disapproval on her mother's face. Temporarily she wished she would have gone with her instinct to wear the same dress she wore in Italy. She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it for now.

Giving her mother a curt nod and hiking up the small train on her dress, Andrea turned to exit the room. Shayla, Emma and Shannon right behind her.

At the bottom of the stairs, Andrea sat in a chair at the kitchen table. Shayla slid next to her placing a pair electric blue Manolo Blahnik pumps on the table. A faint gasp fell from Andrea's lips as her fingers danced over the blue satin material.

Looking up at the tall blonde, she opened her mouth to speak, but Shayla read her mind.

"They belong to a friend of mine. So there's your old, borrowed and blue." She smiled."

"They're beautiful! Thank you, Shay!" Andrea replied, quickly standing to hug her.

Just then Johnathan entered the room with Katherine. Adjusting his tie, he shared a polite smile with everyone in the room.

Shannon wrapped his big arms around Andie once more, "I'm going to go find J and make sure he doesn't sneak out this way. He's waited all day, don't want to spoil the surprise early. Love you, Dee. See ya out there!"

"Love you too, Bear." She answered, kissing him on the cheek before he disappeared with Emma and Shayla to take their places.

Andrea braced herself for what her parents might say next. She knew her mother hated the dress she chose. They had never been that close or seen eye to eye on many subjects.

"I'm know you don't approve of my dress. But I'm not wearing it for you. You don't approve of most of the choices I've made, but that's ok because I made them for me, not you. Jared is the one that extended the invitation to you. And please don't think I don't want you here, because I'm very glad to see you. But just once in my life mom, I'd love to see a look of approval on your face when you look at me instead of disappointment."

Knowing that he needed to play referee, Johnathan quickly stepped between them and quietly extended his forearm. Andrea joined her arm in his as her mother left the room to take her seat outside.

"You look good kiddo. And I know she doesn't know how to say this so I'll say it for her. Your mother loves you Andrea, she always has and always will. She's just mad at herself for not chasing her dreams like you have. Look where you've gotten to just by being yourself!

"Dad, please."

"I'm right, you know I am. You came out here on your own. Fought tooth and nail to get a role and absolutely blew folks away! Then you met some pretty boy and dropped everything for him." Johnathan teased, "I'm kidding, relax. I really do like him. He's a bit odd, but you are too, so you picked well." He said through a laugh.

"Shut up and take me to my husband." Andie laughed.

Stepping into what Jared called The Lab, Andrea felt the butterflies in her tummy fluttering like mad. Excitement flowing through her veins. She wanted to run through the doors and into Jared's arms right now, forget the ceremony.

Emma knocked on the door, signaling thumbs up. It was time for her to go get her man. Looking through the door, she saw him. He was standing off to the side against the stairway, smiling and laughing with Shannon. Looking devastatingly handsome in the simple black suit he wore; so elegant and it fit him like a glove. His long hair was pulled back into a sleek bun at the base of his neck.

As she began to walk the short distance toward her future, Andrea felt her breath hitch when her eyes met Jared's. His ocean blue eyes twinkling, that beautiful smile he possessed, taking her breath away. She wondered if she would ever get used to the way he caused her heart to beat rapidly while simultaneously being her source of calming energy.

Jared heard the door open, turning quickly to see his girl. He smiled so big he felt as if his face would split open at any second. Decidedly unable to take his eyes off of her if his life depended upon it, Jared locked eyes with her as she stepped toward him. His pulse racing faster with each breath as he lowered his eyes over Andreas body. She was absolutely stunning and he realized how lucky he is to be marrying her.

After giving her away, Johnathan stepped off the makeshift platform and took his seat next to Katherine.

Jared slid his hands into Andrea's as soon as she stood in front of him, quickly pulling her into him for a kiss.

"Hey, kid, you skipped a few steps!" Larry, an old family friend chuckled. Reaching up, he playfully smacked Jared upside the head, causing laughter to erupt through the backyard. Jared smiled brightly at the man he looked up to, feeling very thankful he agreed to be their minister.

"I can't help it! Do you see her? She's stunning." Jared gushed, rubbing his head, looking back at Andrea to see her cheeks blush.

When it came time to say their vows, Andrea was suddenly nervous. She knew whatever Jared was going to say would bring her to tears.

Jared felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. Turning to his brother, Shannon pulled a small beige velvet box from his tuxedo jacket handing it to his baby brother.

Opening the box, Jared pulled the ring from its satin pillow, handing the box back to Shannon. Returning to his bride, Jared slid the platinum band on to her thin finger. Squeezing Andrea's hip gently, he winked at her.

"Andrea," Jared smiled, grabbing her hand, "I can't promise that dark clouds will never hover above us. I can't promise everyday will be easy, although we've had more good days than bad." Tugging her closer, he continued, "I can promise that I will respect you, be devoted to you, loyal to you, and love you unconditionally for the rest of my life."

Jared watched the tears trickle down Andie's face. Reaching up to swipe them away, he whispered, "I have more to say, but I can save it for later if you'd like?"

Pushing her forehead against his, Andie exhaled an emotional sigh and nodded. Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggled into him, forgetting their friends and family existed and seized his lips with hers.

"I love you." She breathed.

"I love you more." He countered, brushing his fingers across the bare skin of her lower back.

"You two just love to play by your own rules, don't you?" Larry joked, "Andrea, dear, it's your turn."

"I asked you to not make me cry on our wedding day, you jerk." Andie choked, playfully smacking Jared making everyone laugh.

Looking down at her new adornment she gasped; the colorless, princess cut diamond sparkling brightly under the lights. Her eyes lifting quickly to Jared's face. "It's perfect." She gushed, her smile so bright it could light up Los Angeles.

Emma slid up behind Andrea handing her a small black box. Her thin fingers pulling the simple deep pewter titanium band out before turning back to Jared.

"Jared, my love... It's impossible for me to articulate what you mean to me. You came into my world when I was sitting in a valley and helped me hike to a peak. One I hope to never fall from, but I know you'll catch me if I do. I will forever be grateful for your friendship, your encouragement, your love. My greatest love." She smiled, staring deeply into Jared's big eyes, she continued, "I will spend the rest of my life trying to give back to you everything you have given to me. Say yes today and every day from now on. I am yours and you are mine. Forever."

"All right. Being that there's not a dry eye in the audience, I highly doubt there is anyone here that feels like this beautiful couple shouldn't be married?" Larry inquired, waiting a moment before he went on, "Didn't think so. Okay, Jared,"

"I do." Jared interrupted, drawing his left hand up to caress the skin just under Andrea's ear. His gaze remaining on her the entire time.

"I do." Andrea said, barely getting the words out before Jared seized her lips with his.

Tag list: @nikkitasevoli @lostinletoland @spillinginkwithlove @conceptuallyloud @branded-with-a-j @callmeasyoulove @fortify-undeny @pandaliciouz

#jared leto fanfiction #rescue me

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