#hes numb to it at this point he’s been through war that’s how he’s perished but hey he’s now a kooky grandpa to miles so that’s a win | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskholland · 4 years

Text

Cuddle Buddies | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re touch-starved, Peter’s your best friend, and there’s a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between you; friends to lovers.

word count ↠ 3.4k

warnings ↠ uh oh.... there’s only one bed..? additionally maybe two swear words? also copious amounts of fluff lmao

a/n ↠ so apparently I really wanna cuddle Peter Parker. wbk. this is very cute and made me so soft when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it! please let me know if you have any thoughts :D

“God damn, MJ, I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a hug soon.”

You’re rambling, your voice full of heavy frustration. Your hair is unkempt and messy from all the times you’ve run your fingers through it, and you stare at Michelle with a wild look in your eyes that makes her press a hand to her hips and laugh lightly.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really good at being dramatic, Y/N?” She replies casually, causing you to mock an outraged gasp. You sit down at the lunch table together, setting down your trays in front of you.

You manage a glare at your friend. “You’re so mean to me,” you whine. “You don’t understand how desperate I am.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from lack of human contact,” she chimes.

“Who’s dying?”

You startle as a third, familiar voice joins the conversation, and crane your neck to see Peter slipping into the open seat beside you. He gives you an easy smile that stretches all the way to his soft, lovely brown eyes, and you feel your heart ache.

“No one’s dying,” Michelle replies. When Peter shoots her an inquisitive look, she adds, “Y/N thinks she’s going to perish if she doesn’t find someone to hug.”

You scowl at MJ, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to let the embarrassment show on your face. It’s one thing to have this conversation with MJ - your close friend and number one confidant - but Peter? It’s an entirely different story. He may be your best friend, but your feelings are far more than simply platonic when it comes to him.

“Oh…” Peter looks at you curiously, his eager eyes darting over your face. He leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, looking utterly adorable with his face pulled into a cute smile. His grin widens as you meet his gaze, and he nods knowingly. “Hugs are nice.”

You nod in appreciative agreement. “Exactly!”

MJ just rolls her eyes. “You guys are so weird.”

Ned joins the table and begins talking to MJ about a chemistry project, and Peter turns to you properly.

“Hey, so, are we still on for that study session later?” He asks you, his teeth briefly gliding across his lower lip. You try not to focus too much on the curve of his mouth, but it’s very difficult.

“Um, yeah,” you squeak, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as you remember the arrangement you’d made with Peter earlier in the week. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours?” Peter suggests.

“Okay. My parents are still away on business, so it’ll just be us. Is that okay?”

Your friend nods his head, his fluffy brown curls shifting around his face. “Sounds great.” Peter gives you a nervous smile, and it sets your heart racing. “I can’t wait.”

-----

Peter turns up a little after 7pm, a box of pizza in his hands. You spend a while chatting and watching Star Wars, and then eventually pull yourselves around to studying. You opt for your bedroom, with its very comfortable fluffy carpet, and you spread out all of your notebooks and pens around you before lying on your stomach and lazily flicking through your notes. But you can’t quite focus because something is amiss.

Peter is acting very oddly tonight. And he’s normally a little hyperactive, but it’s as if he’s on another level entirely. He keeps glancing up to you, then looking away the moment you bring your eyes up to meet his, and he hasn’t stopped drumming his fingers over the front of his maths textbook all night. You’re already nervous enough being around him, alone and within such close proximity to him, and his antics aren’t helping you at all.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on Peter Parker. Possibly. But you’d never tell him that.

“Pete,” you say, reaching breaking point when you catch him staring at your face for the fifth time in one minute. You sit up and turn to look at him, meeting his guilty, rose-tinted face. “What’s going on? You seem so unsettled. Are you okay?”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times, his eyes meeting yours nervously. His voice is more a squeak than anything else as he says, suddenly, “Do you want to cuddle me?”

You blink, totally blindsided by the change in topic.

“Uh, cuddle you?”

“Um, I mean, sorry, that’s such a weird thing to just come out and say, I- I just remembered earlier, with MJ, what she was saying, and I was wondering if you’d want to hug me, if you- if you want a hug so badly.” Peter breaks off, a disgruntled groan coming up his throat as he buries his flushed face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Y/N, shit, that was such a weird thing to ask. Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

You chuckle, your lips pulling into a wide smile. “You would let me hug you?” You ask gently. Peter parts his fingers and looks at you through the gaps, nodding slightly. “I’d like that, Peter.”

He looks so shocked by your statement that it brings another quiet laugh from your mouth. “O-Okay.” Peter clumsily opens his arms. “Um, here?”

It’s painfully awkward at first. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, his back resting up against the mattress, so you have to do a weird sort of crawl over to him, feeling his wide, anxious eyes pressing onto your figure the whole way. It doesn’t help that you’re practically shaking from nerves now.

You’ve known Peter since the start of high school, but you’ve not really hugged him before. The most you’ve shared is a brief celebratory high-five after acing a biology presentation together, and even that contact had lingered in your mind for days after. The concept of crawling up to and hugging your crush makes your palms sweaty and your mind a numb anxious mess, but you do it, because it’s Peter, and the opportunity to cuddle up next to him is so enticing you think you’d do anything just to feel his arms around your body.

The angle is difficult, but Peter spreads his legs out across the carpet and pats his thighs, and you realise he wants you to straddle his lap, so you clamber into his hold gently. He’s sturdy beneath you, with a pair of dark denim jeans stretched over his firm thighs, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in. You let your hands find his sides, and then you settle into a very close, very intimate hug with your best friend.

It’s lovely.

He smells of soft bubbles and peppermint, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, partly because it’s comfortable, but mostly because you don’t want him to see the massive, embarrassing grin fixed to your mouth. Your heartbeat’s going crazy - you can feel it pressing against your ribs almost painfully, and it only doubles in speed as Peter’s hands move slowly across your back, rubbing large, soothing circles over your hoodie. You savour the moment, your eyes closed as you enjoy just being held by your best friend.

“Is this okay?” Peter asks, after a few moments.

You hum against his neck, squeezing his torso softly. He’s wearing one of Midtown’s navy hoodies, and it feels particularly soft against your forehead. “Thanks, Pete,” you mumble, enjoying the moment entirely too much. “You’re really good at hugs, you know that?”

“You’re also a very nice hugger,” Peter replies. You swallow deeply as you feel him tighten his grip on your sides and pull you even closer.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to be held,” you find yourself saying. You’re starting to feel really comfortable now, and find yourself relaxing and shifting further into him.

“Definitely.” His voice is still ringing at a higher pitch than you’re used to, but you put it down to the late evening hour. “Um, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“If you, uh, ever need another hug, you can always text me.”

You’re so glad you have your face buried in Peter’s warm neck because the grin latched to your lips is so large you think you’d die from embarrassment if your friend could see how giddy his words make you feel.

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks, Pete.” You pause for a moment, and take stock of the way he seems to be clinging to you just as tightly as you are to him. “You can always text me too, if you ever want a hug. Or anything, really.” You manage to collapse your smile so it’s more of a weak grin, and you pull back to look at Peter. His hands fall down to loosely grasp at your hips, and you find him looking at you with warm, attentive eyes and a wide smile hanging from his pink lips.

He looks so cute, and relaxed, and perfect, and you really can’t believe your luck that you’re sitting holed up in his arms just now.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles shyly, eyes flittering across every part of your face. “You’re a great friend.”

You deserve an Oscar for maintaining the smile on your face, despite the way his words stab painfully at your heart.

“You too, Pete,” you mutter. “The best friend ever.”

The air between you holds just a little too much tension, so you shift and push your face back into his shoulder, hugging him again. Peter’s arms tighten around your waist, and you sigh softly, revelling in rare the feeling of him so close to you, even if it isn’t under the circumstances you crave. You’d take anything Peter could offer you, even if it makes your heart ache.

------

It easily becomes a habit.

Soon enough, it’s been three months, and you’re spending almost every evening with Peter. The more you meet up, the more natural folding into his arms becomes, and soon you find that your favourite parts of the day are the moments you share curled up together.

Sharing affection with Peter is easy, but it comes at a cost - it ties your heart up in knots to spend so much time pressed up against his chest, acting so intimately with him, but then to pull back and go back about your day like nothing really happened. Every second you spend hugging him hurts you because your heart yearns so deeply to have more, but you just can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel. You value your friendship with Peter too much to risk ruining it all because of a stupid crush, and you’re not ready to stop your evening shenanigans, so you decide to just put up with it and suffer in silence.

A few months into your arrangement, you find yourself at Peter’s when the power across the city goes out in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, shivering as you glance outside and see a flash of sharp lightning cut across the city. The rain pelts down against the pavements so loudly that you can hear it through the gap in the window. You turn and look at Peter, wide-eyed. “Bet you’re glad the Stark internship let you leave earlier than usual today. I’m not looking forward to walking back in that later.”

“Y/N, you can’t go home in the middle of a thunderstorm, especially if the power is out,” Peter tells you firmly, his arms crossing over his chest. He looks so cute with his eyebrows scrunched into a caring scowl that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Stay here tonight. May’s out of town, but I can sleep on the sofa. I don’t want you to go across the city by yourself at the moment.”

You bite your lower lip, eyeing the slants of rain that pour over Queens. “It does look pretty horrible out there,” you admit. Your expression shifts into guilt as you eye Peter closely. “You can’t sleep on the sofa, though. I will.”

“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Peter, it’s your apartment, I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Then join me.”

“In your bed? With you?”

“Yes.” Peter’s face is a bright red as he flusters, “Um, only if you’re comfortable with that though, Y/N. You don’t have to. I just thought that- because, y’know, we’re kinda… close now, you might want to. But you don’t-”

“I want to,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can think them through properly. You’re rendered utterly incapable of sensible thought, because Peter’s looking at you so intently that it whips the breath straight out of your lungs. “Really, Pete, that would be nice, if you’re sure you don’t mind..?”

“No! I want to,” he replies. Peter runs his delicate fingers through his brown waves, pushing his strands away from his face easily. His smile is gentle, and it grows as you return it shyly. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

You make light conversation as you both get ready for bed together. Peter even finds you a spare toothbrush in the cabinet beneath the sink, and you pull faces at him in the mirror as you brush your teeth together side by side. It feels so domestic, but also incredibly comfortable and normal, and you decide that you feel more at home by Peter’s side than you do anywhere else in the world. You realise that maybe you’d just been deluding yourself each time you’d dismissed your feelings for him as simply a crush. Maybe, your feelings run a lot deeper for your friend - far deeper than you’d ever intended for them to grow. Because you realise, as Peter laughs loudly when you pull a face at him in the mirror, that your feelings for the boy have taken firm root in your heart, and you’re absolutely fucking in love with him.

“So, um, I normally sleep on the left side, but I can swap if you want that side,” Peter tells you. The power has finally come back on and the weather has cleared up, but neither of you comment on it as he closes his bedroom door behind you and gestures at his nice, gingham-patterned bedspread.

“I can go on the right side,” you offer.

Peter turns off the light and you both shuffle to your respective sides of his bed. You’ve been in his room a thousand times before, but you’ve never ventured beneath his lovely soft covers, and you find yourself sighing slightly as you shuffle beneath the duvet. His pillows are light and feathery, and your head sinks into them easily.

He seems intent to stay as far away from you as possible, and he clings to the far edge of the mattress. It brings a frown to your mouth, but you let him be; if that’s where he has to be in order to feel comfortable, then you’ll let him stay there. Just because you feel something else fluttering about in your heart for him, does not mean he feels the same way - even if you were sure he’d been hugging you a little closer, recently, and staring at your lips more than he used to. But maybe that was all in your head.

“Do you need anything?” Peter asks slowly. You stare up at his ceiling, your eyes taking in the dark curves of his smooth roof.

“No,” you reply. “Your bed is very comfortable.”

You hear the sheets ruffle as Peter slowly turns over. You fold over onto your side and find yourself facing him, his bright eyes twinkling slightly beneath the light that streams in from the city outside. He looks very cute, with the duvet bunched up beneath his chin and his fluffy hair all messy and waved out across his forehead, and it makes you happy to see him so relaxed and free. Sometimes it feels as though Peter carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you’d give anything to see him gentle and carefree like this. It makes you feel a surge of pride to know you can give him just a little bit of peace.

“Yeah, I dunno where May got the mattress but it’s amazing.” Peter breaks off, shifting around a little, and you freeze up when you feel his hand brush against yours beneath the covers. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he mutters, immediately jerking his hand back. You can just about make out the dark flush of his cheeks.

“‘S okay,” you murmur, biting your lower lip. A beat passes, and then you add, “We hug all the time, Peter. You can touch me, y’know.”

He takes it as an invitation, and he tenderly reaches out. His warm hand finds the curve of your waist, and you stay remarkably still as he slowly shuffles a little closer.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers into the air.

“Yeah.”

Finally you unstick, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You shift towards him, as if magnetised, and your hand goes up to rest on his side, too. His t-shirt feels soft beneath your hold, and you find your mind reeling as you take in his warmth, his scent, his touch.

Peter’s face is very near you now. Your legs are tangled together. Your head shifts onto his pillow, and suddenly he’s holding you flush against him, your noses almost touching.

“Y/N,” he says slowly. His eyes are wide and nervous, and they keep dipping down to settle on the curve of your lips.

“Pete,” you respond, your voice fragile. You can hardly keep still, for how nervous you’re feeling now. He’s pulled you right against him, and for the first time, you question whether your feelings are actually one sided. His warm fingers burn against your side, tracing delicate circles over the material of your borrowed shirt. “You’re really close.”

“Do you want me to move?” You’ve never heard him like this before: all warm, and gentle, and inviting. It ignites a whirlwind of butterflies inside your chest, and you really can’t stop yourself from saying, quietly,

“I want you to kiss me.”

Peter’s lips are on yours before you know it. Soft, at first, and a little bit bumpy and awkward. But he loosens up as you reach up and wrap your fingers around his hair, and you kiss him back with all that you have. Peter pulls you closer as you kiss him deeply, savouring the feeling of his warm, pillowy lips and enjoying the way your heart blooms in your chest as your best friend kisses you back. He releases a small noise of enjoyment into your mouth as you nibble over his bottom lip, and then he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you’re making out, your figures lazily intertwined.

It feels so right to be kissing Peter that you briefly wonder why you’ve never tried this out before.

“I, um, I really like you, Y/N,” Peter whispers against you, when you finally pull back. Your lips tingle as you giggle into the air, your fingertips trailing through the soft strands of his chestnut hair. “In fact, I… I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Your mouth runs dry, and all you can really do to stop the tears of relief from slipping out of your eyes is lean in and kiss him again, hard. You kiss him like you’ve been dreaming about for months: slowly, passionately and lovingly - growing in tempo as you fervently try to convey everything you’ve kept hidden away inside your heart.

When you break away, you keep your lips nuzzled against his and breathe out a deep, “I love you too, Peter.”

You giggle together, and you feel so overcome with adoration for the boy that you simply have to kiss him again.

“D’you want to go on a date with me?” Peter asks gently, between gaps in your soft kisses. You finally move away from his lips and settle nearer, your forehead finding his chest as his arms encircle your waist and he holds you close in a warm, consuming cuddle.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Peter,” you mumble against his front. You smile softly as you feel his lips trail across your forehead, and your heart stirs happily in your chest.

“Okay,” he says, sounding immediately relieved. “I’m excited.”

You hum sleepily into his chest, your fingers curling around his strong back. “Me too,” you mumble.

“Night night, Y/N,” he says, his voice already being carried away as you drift further into dreamland. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Pete,” you reply. You know nothing else will compare to the feeling of being holed up in your best friends arms, with his lips scattering a dusting of kisses across your forehead, and you try to cling desperately to every single moment and sensation. “Sweet dreams.”

Peter leaves a final kiss on your forehead, and then you drift off to sleep with him, your figures entangled, and, for the first time, your hearts beating together as one.

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

any feedback?

masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfic #peter!friends to lovers #friends to lovers

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amaterasususanno · 3 years

Text

WangXian - How the siege could (should) have ended

----

Summary:

Wei Ying cares for the Wen remnants. He desires to protect them.

The world wants Wei Ying and the Wen's gone.

In consequence: The siege could never have been avoided.

But: Wei Ying's story could still have been another one.

Rating: M [To be safe]

Status: Complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31961272/chapters/79156201

----

Since the day Wei Ying had confronted the different sects as they had planned his demise, the dark energy swirling around burial mount had grown several times heavier and harder to control – even though it had only been a few weeks.

Even Wei Ying himself could nearly not stand it anymore.

He kept seeing heart wrenching visions and haunting nightmares. His ears were filled with the wails of the dead. He could hear them pleading him to spare their lives. He could hear them cursing his name. He could even hear their blood rushing out of their bodies as the corpses he commanded ripped them to shreds.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see the murders he chose to commit – his acts as ‘war hero’ during the sunshot campaign, like the torturing and murder of worthless men like Wen Chao – and those he failed to prevent himself from causing – the murder of Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and probably half of all his later kills, to be honest.

Only now did he understand that he had started to lose his senses somewhere along the path he had chosen.

He had believed to be in control of everything, but looking back, maybe he had already started going insane when he was first thrown into the abyss of the burial mount. He had just always been held back somewhere along the borders of being a genius before he could turn into a full-blown madman.

But now? What was there to ground him?

The sunshot campaign was over, Jiang Cheng wanted him dead just like everyone else, his shijie was dead – she had been slaughtered to save him and the people who had looked at him with admiration and called him the greatest war hero of the sunshot campaign, had all turned their backs on him now that they had started to fear his power. Even Wen Qing was gone, and Wen Ning had even died a second death.

And Wei Ying himself had lost all will to make the world understand, that he would not threaten them as long as they didn’t cross him.

Especially since they already gone ahead and crossed him anyway. After all they had dared to lay hands on the Wen-siblings, who had been innocent of all of Wen Rouhans’ crimes. They had even dared to continue trying to fault him for anything that went wrong anywhere – even though he and the Wens were only trying to live a peaceful life amongst themselves.

Besides, it was not like anyone would listen to him at this point of time anyway – after all he had killed a few thousands of cultivators a few weeks back.

And maybe the truth was simply cruel as life itself: A choice had to be made – there would be either the rest of the cultivation world or him. They didn’t want to live besides him. He couldn’t live besides them any longer either.

The hatred inside him had grown to strong – it overpowered all of his senses. It was numbing him, tempting him to do all the wrong things. No, at this rate he would just end up ending all of these cultivators miserable lives.

Wei Ying rose from his bed inside the demon slaughtering cave. He needed to get the rest of the Wens away from here. He needed to at least protect them from whatever war would follow between the world and himself.

Especially considering the fact that either the major sects would come here and try to kill him – taking the Wens down along with him even though they were only weakened people – or he himself would do something stupid and would end up endangering them, dragging them down to hell with him.

As he moved towards the mouth of the cave, Wei Ying found himself stumbling more than he was walking.

His head was full of noises again. His vision was dulled, the resentful energy gripped at his heart and mind. He could feel everything clouding up again.

Maybe the stygian tiger seal was partly at fault for that. It kept attracting the dark clouds around him even though he long since couldn’t deal with them anymore.

Maybe he had really created a weapon that no one should possess – him included.

Maybe Lan Zhan had been right. With everything. Maybe he should have listened to him. But then again, he hadn’t had a choice. He didn’t have a golden core anymore. He could only walk this narrow path in the darkness now – he could only rely on the dead and their hatred.

He had forfeited his humanity when he refused to die inside burial mount.

There was a saying befitting og this. And for him it had most definitely become true. ‘You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain’.

“Are you ok?”

Wei Ying looked up, his gaze found a strange red blotch of color in front of him. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes, trying to figure out who was standing on front of him.

But right now, couldn’t even identify the speakers voice – and suddenly panic kicked in. This could be an enemy!

Quickly reaching for Chenquin, all his senses kicked into an alarmed state of needing to kill the threat. He could feel the resentful energy bundling around the flute – and usually his targets fear would join the hatred he accumulated through his technique.

But right now, there was no fear. Who in their right mind could be stupid enough not to fear him? While he was off-guard due to shock, he felt something colliding with his right leg. A very familiar weight.

“A-Yuan?”

Suddenly his mind cleared again, his eyes free of whatever fog had blocked them before, his ears no longer filled with cries and death wishes directed at him.

Quickly looking at whomever he had nearly killed off, he saw granny Wen. His stomach churned. How could he have mistaken her for a threat? Especially when her lack of fear symbolized just how much trust she had in him, how strongly she believed he would not harm her.

“Sister, granny said I should come to you! She said you were looking out of it ever since you returned here!”

Looking down at the brightly smiling child twisted Wei Yings insides around even more. He quickly put Chenquin away, pushing his guild to the back of his mind so he could pick A-Yuan up, cuddling him close – already regretting having to send him far away to protect him.

“Is that so? What else did Granny say? Did she tell you how I returned?”

Trying to smile and not show that he did not at all remember his returning here, Wei Ying cast a short glance in the direction of granny Wen.

She smiled meekly, then uttered a sudden – and obviously fake – complaint about her back hurting and left.

Wait, what had she told the kid?

“She said you walked here looking like your soul had been sucked out! And you kept mumbling about random things like revenge, wanting to burn the world to the ground, oh and you talked about brother rich!”

The happy way the child chatted about all this made it obvious that he didn’t understand a single word of all that.

In fact A-Yuan seemed to only care about his dear ‘brother rich’, he nearly immediatly went over to telling Wei Ying just how much he wanted to see ‘brother rich’ again.

But Wei Ying didn’t listen anymore. He understood why he had been talking about the end of the world, or better yet: his wish to be that cause of the said event, but why would he talk about Lan Zhan?

Trying to think back on whatever may have made him talk about Lan Zhan, he remembered only bits and pieces of certain scenes.

Lan Zhan had stood among the rows of people discussing how to kill him – so Lan Zhan must want him to perish. Seemingly punishing Wei Ying by taking him back to Gusu was no longer enough to satisfy the man.

The ugly feeling of an all-consuming hatred boiled up inside Wei Ying. Why did Lan Zhan have to be this way? He had already wanted to punish Wei Ying when everyone else had still praised him. And now that everyone wanted him dead, even that overly honorable white marble statue of a man, decided killing him would be better than punishing him? And that even though the Gusu Lan Sect forbade killing?

But of course there would be exceptions. What a hypocrite!

“-mother and father.”

A-Yuans laughter ripped Wei Ying out of his thoughts. He had to blink a few times to progress what the child had just said.

“A-Yuan- what was that just now?”

The boy smiled even broader and ripped his small hands into the air, elated as he started to talk again – not at all minding that Wei Ying had seemingly not listened.

“Granny said you and brother rich had a special relationship! She always said you are happier whenever he is around – you will smile a lot more than usually. So I thought you must like brother rich just as much as me and that is why he should visit us more often!”

Still not comprehending what that had to do with the whole mother/father thing, Wie Ying shifted A-Yuans weight onto only one of his arms, so he could poke his nose with the other.

“Don’t talk such nonsense little radish. I am always a happy person, that has nothing to do with Lan Zhan. Besides, this has nothing to do with what you said before anyway, does it?”

A-Yuan scrunched his nose up, looking like a cute little bunny – especially when he went over to covering up his nose with his little hands – all in order to protect it from future assaults.

“It does! Granny said you liked brother rich like a mommy likes a daddy!”

Wei Yings teasing fingers, which had tried to catch A-Quan off guard and poke him again, froze in midair.

Wei Yings entire face fell and went pale.

What had A-Yuan just said? And why would granny Wen even tell such things to a child? What kind of old-people-joke was this?

Lan Zhan had never even just liked him, he even wanted him dead now!

So how could Wei Ying feel anything else than the desire to defeat Lan Zhan and be as far away from him as possible?

“Besides, he is my father, didn’t you say so yourself?”

A-Yuan may have been nothing but a child, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t smart enough to see when he could get a jab in. After all the kid had always been cheeky. And smart enough to use anything anyone ever said against them.

“I never said that!”

Not even knowing why he was defending himself against a mere toddler, Wei Ying went over to displaying a complete denial.

While he did so, a scene popped into his head.

Lan Zhan was walking through the village at the foot of burial mount with them. He was buying toys for A-Yuan – which earned him the nickname ‘brother rich’ from the child.

At some point A-Yuan had been hungry and-

Wei Yings memory flashed back to how he had found Lan Zhan that day in the first place. A-Yuan had run off somewhere. He had run straight into Lan Zhan.

And being panicked and the little child he was, he had started wailing at the man’s feet, clinging to his cloths.

A crowd had gathered, commenting about how ‘fathers would often be overstrained with their first child’.

And that scene, combined with the later one of them strolling around and Lan Zhan showering A-Yuan with presents, had brough a careless sentence out of Wei Yings mouth.

“The one with the money is the father, the one with the milk the mother.” – And in the context from back then, this made him the mother and Lan Zhan the father as Wei Ying normally provided A-Yuan with food and Lan Zhan provided the child with toys on this particular day.

Wei Ying flushed – God, why had he said that back then? That was super embarrassing!

“You should forget that again A-Yuan. Just call him brother rich, ok?” Wei Ying laughed it off, feeling a bit awkward. Looking back he was actually surprised Lan Zhan had taken all that so well back then. After all with his typical Lan-wits he probably hadn’t taken as long as Wei Ying to understand what his careless words had implied. The man really seemed to have a frightening self-control.

“Does that mean I should call you brother poor?”

The child had definitely seen Wei Ying losing control of the situation. And seemingly Wei Yings mischievousness and insolence had straight off been absorbed by the child.

“Just continue calling me brother. That is enough. And no, before you start calling me brother poor again, call me mommy. At least that gives me the image of someone pretty.”

Being jokingly diplomatic, Wei Ying shook his head, offhandedly noting how his conversation with A-Yuan, even though it most certainly had been a strange one, had somehow given him so much normality that his inner demons for once weren’t to be heard or seen.

Wei Ying smiled a bit more genuinely. The power this toddler had was unbelievable. It made it nearly inhumane to think about him being somewhere completely different than at his side someday soon.

But then again, that was the only way in which the boy had a chance to live and grow into a fine – or not so fine and more troublesome if he took after him – man someday.

“Oh well, never mind. Let’s join granny and the others for now.”

What followed wasn’t exactly what Wei Ying had expected. As soon as he had brought up the topic of the Wens leaving, he was hit with a hours long storm of ‘no’s and ‘we won’t leave you behind’s. Had A-Yuan not been there, the discussion would most likely have turned into a fight.

“Wei Ying, most of us are in no condition to travel anyway.” Uncle four gave Wei Ying a shrug. “We wouldn’t make it far anyway.”

Wei Ying had wanted to disagree, but before he could open his mouth, he felt a heatwave erupting in his left sleeve.

He quickly reached inside it, pulling out a burning talisman.

His face turned dark. The defenses of burial mound had been breached.

Someone was trying to sneak in. And ‘someone’ in this case was most probably an army of cultivators.

“Leave now!” Knowing it would be too late to run now but feeling more desperate to get the Wens out of harms way than ever, he rose up, making sure to make all of the Wens understand that the mount was under siege.

“We lived on borrowed time anyway. We have no issue with dying.” Granny Wen tried to calm Wei Yings down from his frenzied state but failed.

“And what about A-Yuan! Doesn’t he deserve to live!?”

Already holding Chenquin in an iron grip, Wei Ying could feel the resentful energy flowing into his body with the intent to swallow him whole and eating him alive.

And his soul offered no resistance. He wanted the strength, that the resentful energy could give him.

He needed it.

Else the Wens would die. A-Yuan would die.

“No, you must come with us then!” A-Yuan, even though he was much too young to understand what was going on, did so anyway. It broke Wei Yings heart and at the same time gave birth to even more hatred inside his body.

How dare the renown sects act as they pleased and even traumatize a child, making it understand the cruel twists of life much sooner than nature should ever have allowed.

“I will hold them up, I will follow you afterwards.”

Even though the darkness inside of him was starting to blur the lines of reality and hallucination already, Wei Ying made a last attempt on convincing the Wens too flee.

“You will only burden me if you stay around – my abilities aren’t suited to protect, they can only destroy!”

A ringing filled Wei Yings head. He could hear the resentful energy talking to him, updating him on how fast the enemies were closing in. They seemed to be numerous, intend on trampling everything down.

Wei Ying knew they didn’t have any more time to waste.

He turned, left the Wens and rushed towards the top of the demon slaughtering caves roof.

Overlooking the situation as much as possible, he took a deep breath and pushed all the air in his lungs into his flute.

A sharp shriek erupted from the instrument.

Hundreds of corpses rose inside the mounts abysses.

The already awakened dead bodies, which hadn’t already been fighting, lunged at the enemies.

Wei Ying played an aggressive, eerie tune, knowing full well that he was forcing too much resentful energy to move around.

With his instable state of mind and most importantly: his growing self-destructive tactics, he knew all this would backfire.

He suddenly knew he would die today.

All of his restraints broke – he decided to take as many his foes with him as possible, hoping to weaken them enough to give the Wens a last chance.

He closed his eyes, gave in to the darkness, surrendering in his inner struggle, letting the darkness eat away his conscience.

No cell inside him cared about the fact that he was about to murder about an estimated another few thousands count of cultivators just to save less than fifty elderly Wens and a child.

He didn’t care about truly becoming the devil they claimed him to be.

Whatever, in that case he would die as hollowed out shell of a man. This battle would turn him into a resentful spirit, his soul would have to be subdued by destroying it since cleansing would no longer be possible. But that was fine. May they shred his body and soul apart.

He drew even more piercing tones out of his flute, patching them into an ugly version of a beautiful melody.

He could hear the metal sounds of swords and sabers cutting through corpses drawing closer – music followed right after.

It was like an awful cacophony of war.

Wei Ying closed his eyes forcefully, focusing on producing wave after wave of corpses.

Finally, he had created so many of them that he could no longer control them with just Chenquin.

In a show of pure insanity, he fished for the two separated parts of the stygian tiger seal and put them together.

The resulting shockwave of dark energy blew even him off of his spot. He tumbled downwards, crashing down into the dirt, all air was knocked out of him. He tried to regain composure, but the seal was way too powerful.

He could feel the corpses breaking free from their reigns, he lost his control over them in a lapse.

Horror-filled screams filled the air.

The corpses now attacked everything in their way – may it be an enemy or another corpse.

Realising this, common sense suddenly kicked right into Wei Yings gut. The Wens! They wouldn’t be safe with the corpses going rouge!

Just like he had struggled back then – when his sister had run onto the battlefield in hopes of stopping him – he fought to get the corpses to calm down.

He fought to get back onto his feat, fought to clear his mind enough to overpower the resentment in himself, fought to fish out the full potential inside him to revoke whatever hell he had summoned forth.

But there was only one calming thing coming to his mind. A song. A song he had never seen the sheet music off. In fact, he couldn’t even remember where he had the melody from either.

But he focused on the music in his memories and started to put a few handfuls of corpses to sleep.

He needed to reduce their numbers to prevent losing control. He absolutely had to.

Then a scream ripped straight into his soul. Granny Wen.

Dread filled him.

As he rushed to where he had heard the scream coming from, he forgot all about repressing the dark energy. The seal started absorbing more and more resentment in his hand.

He could feel it starting to twist his mind.

Shortly before he could drown in whatever dark pool the seal was trying to pull him into, he was faced with the sight of Nie Mingjue towering above a split-up group of the Wen remnants. About seven of them were lying on the ground. – dead. They had not died peacefully. All of them had gruesome slashes on their bodies. Blood pooled around them, coloring the dark earth of the burial mount crimson like the blood pool.

Rage blinded Wei Ying, his inner pain killing his sanity.

He used the stygian tiger seal.

The Wens peoples corpses rose up – attacking the Nie sect leader.

Wei Yings insanity didn’t allow him to see whatever happened to the other Wens, he could only hear that voice inside his head.

Demanding him to kill everyone who stood against him.

And he gave in, commanding all corpses to go on a bloodly murder spree.

Letting the seal take over, then letting the corpses go loose, he rushed straight at Nie Mingjue, kicking him down onto the ground.

Never had he missed his sword this much. He wanted to slit the man’s throat and let him bleed out more than anything else. He wanted him to face the pain of a sword like he had made the Wens face his saber.

But since he couldn’t fight with a sword anymore and didn’t have it on himself either, he decided to go another path – one for which he did not need a golden core.

With his free hand he grasped for sect leader Nies face, pouring an endless stream of dark energy into the man’s body.

He could Feel Nie Mingjues golden core growing corrupt inside the his body as he went into qi deviation.

Wei Ying could feel the man dying underneath him, but he didn’t stop. He wanted him dead – even if he was the older brother of a guy he had once considered to be one of his closest friends.

“Elder brother!” The call may not have addressed Wei Ying, but it warned him of the incoming attack.

Letting go of Nie Mingjue, Wei Ying jumped backwards, in a quick movement pocketing the seal and getting out his flute, lifting it to his lips.

Lan Xichen, whose original intent it had been to save his elder sworn brother, was forced to dodge the incoming rain of three corpses attacks.

“WEI WUXAIN!”

The new voice didn’t reach Wei Ying anymore, the haze around his senses had become too heavy – Wei Ying could only tell that someone had screamed something.

He however felt an attack incoming and promptly twisted his flute away from his mouth and into the way of the incoming swords strike, effectively blocking it.

The flute didn’t crack or give way.

Instead, its dark energy transferred straightly onto the weapon, running along its blade and reaching for the attackers’ golden core, wanting to corrupt it.

Jiang Chengs sense of danger warned him before he had even understood the situation fully, his golden core alarming him quickly enough. He jumped back, sheeting his sword and summoning his mothers whip.

The ring on his finger quickly transformed into a violet, crackling manifest of a lightning bolt.

Making an attempt to hit Wei Ying with Zidian, Jiang Cheng failed to pay enough attention to his surroundings – as Wei Ying dodged, the whip hit a big rock, which promptly cracked into two halves, of which one nearly immediately tumbled down towards them.

Jiang Cheng moved to the side, Lan Xichen reached for Nie Mingjue and jumped out of the way as well. The boulder hit two unsuspecting cultivators who had been further behind of them, fending off the corpses that threatened to come too close to the sect leaders.

Both of them were crushed into a paste.

Even the resentful energy all around them could patch them up well enough for them to rise up as corpses.

“Wei Ying!”

Still hearing nothing, Wei Ying lifted the flute to his lips once again, playing the attack melody he had once written for Wen Ning. The music enhanced the corpses in a hundred-meter radius of his own position. Making them faster, stronger and most of all more resilient.

”Wei Ying!”

This time the call was paired with someone closing in on Wei Ying – and that he most definitely took note off.

“There is fire!”

Now that he was aware again, he recognized uncle fourths voice.

Summoning a bunch of corpses to keep the three sect leaders in front of him busy, Wei Ying worked on finding out from where the fire was coming.

He quickly noticed it crawling up the back of the mount.

What a great strategy – the sects waves of cultivators came from the front while a fire ate away the only escapes routes the inhabitants of the burial mount had.

Trying to assess how great the danger coming from the flames was, Wei Ying looked around.

He only saw uncle forth and A-yuan.

Neither of them looking good.

“Where is the rest!?”

Dreading the response, Wei Ying rushed over to the two, taking A-Yuan from uncle forth when he hunched over in a fit of coughs.

“Slaughtered, smoked out, burned, drowned in the blood pool, or pushed down into the abyss. And I don’t have too much air left, my old body won’t be able to survive this.”

Wei Ying didn’t even try to convince Uncle forth that he would live. He knew very well that the man wouldn’t live through the night – even without the cultivators threatening his life on top of the flames smoke poisoning the old mans system.

Instead, Wei Ying clutched A-Yuan to his chest, noticing that the boy to be unconscious and running a high fever already.

Again he reached for the stygian tiger seal.

Weij Ying clutched it harshly, using the force of all the resentment in the air, that it cracked.

The crack immediately loosened large bits of the control the seal held over the corpses, making them grow even more fierce and bloodthirsty.

Wei Ying allowed the side effect of the crack, a painful backlash, to shake his body, ripping at his mind and heart.

He knew this little crack was enough to make the corpses all over burial mount run wild – feed only by resentment and not restrained in any form or kind.

Even Wei Ying himself felt the resentment taking him over more and more. But he didn’t allow it to overpower him. Not while he had A-Yuan in his arms.

Forced to watch on as uncle forth drowned in the resentment and died at its hands, he looked on as uncle forth became one of his corpses.

Giving a short whistle, Wei Ying gave uncle forth the command to protect A-Yuan and escape with him – to bring him somewhere far away and put him down at some families doorstep. Wei Ying would just hope the best from there on.

After he was sure the corpse wouldn’t defy his orders, he laid the unconscious toddler into the corpse’s arms.

A few moments later he found himself engaged in a fight with Lan Xichen.

Since his mind was still rather clear, he could easily see through all of Lan Xichens attacks. He had crossed swords with Lan Zhan often enough to know all the Lan sects preferred moves.

And mind you, Lan Zhan was much better than Lan Xichen when it came to fighting.

Lan Xichen lacked the fierce determination to come out as the victor. He was too soft. He tried to reason things out. To bad, Wei Ying didn’t feel like reasoning things out.

In fact, he managed to gain the upper hand and push Lan Xichen back more and more.

Only a little bit more and he would have him-

“Don’t move Wei Ying!”

Turning, surprised to hear his adoptive brother behind him, as he had never noticed him move there, he was even more shocked when he saw A-Yuan in Jiang Chengs grasp.

The purple clad man was holding the poor child by his ancle, letting him dangle down from his hand.

“Let go of him!” Not watching Lan Xichen in his panic, Wei Ying suffered a sidewards incoming blow to his upper arm, a deep gash ripping his flesh wide open.

He only felt a dull pain, the resentful energy had taken most of his senses out already.

His eyes stayed on A-Yuan.

“So, this kid didn’t get kidnapped by you? Is he yours?”

The way Jiang Chengs voice went from gruesome to pleased in a sickening way.

Wei Ying growled.

“Let. Him. Go. This is between you people and me. A-Yuan has nothing to do with this.”

“Shijie had nothing to do with this either!”

With that Jiang Cheng lifted the blade of his sword, pointing it at A-Yuan dangling from his other arm.

Wei Ying blackened out.

Within a split second he had lifted his flute to his lips, commanding all dead spirits of burial mount forth at once.

Vengeful spirits didn’t take as much effort to summon as corpses did, so Jiang Cheng found himself drowning in them within a heartbeats time.

He had to let A-Yuan go unless he wanted to be corrupted right on the spot.

Wei Ying rushed forwards, moving to catch the child before he quickly distanced himself from the scene, not wanting to risk his own spirit being overwritten.

As soon as he was a safe distance away, he looked at A-Yuan.

His breathing had gone from labored to shallow.

The child was dying.

And that was when Wei Ying finally lost it completely.

Now not only were all of the Wens gone, no, even A-Yuan would be dead soon. And he himself too.

And that was when it hit him. Yes, he had known he would die along, but he hadn’t had what it took to end his life right on the spot.

But now he had gained exactly that.

So may the suicidal mass murder start.

He fished out the stygian tiger seal and slammed it into the ground, kneeling down next to it – holding A-Yuan cradled to his chest.

Drawing in all the resentful energy he could accumulate, Wei Ying gathered it where his golden core would usually have been sitting.

After he was sure he had bundled enough hatred, he then proceeded to push it directly into the stygian tiger seal, intending to crush it once and for all.

He could see Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao, Su She and a bunch of other cultivators close in on him. They seemed to have gotten past the corpses.

But that wouldn’t do them any good. The spirits around Juang Cheng quickly washed over to them as well, giving Wei Ying the time he needed to execute his plan.

He only had to obliterate that evil-summoning seal. That way no one would be able to use it ever again – not him and not anyone else.

And everyone on this mount would be whipped out as side effect.

A-Yuan and he himself would perish due to the backlash of the whole affair. The rest of the cultivators, who were further away from the seal, would die due to the fierce corpses going absolutely rampant.

And the corpses that were left standing after all this was over would roam burial mount for all times, keeping everyone else away from it – that way no one could ever come here again and start to accumulate this raw evil energy, like he had done it after being dropped here.

This would be the final battle – taking out the grandmaster of demonic cultivation and all the sects who had been stupid enough to come here on this day. Or at least all the cultivators of said sects who were present.

The seal started to crack more and more. Wei Ying watched on, his eyes cold, uncaring – in the face of death he found himself calmer than ever.

Then suddenly, he saw a flash of a memory.

He saw the seals memories.

He saw the times he had used it.

He saw… Lan Zhan?

Focusing on that particular frame, he saw the battle a few weeks ago.

He saw himself going wild, loosing all sense and even consciousness as he blacked out and fought simply fueled by resentment. He saw what happened after his memory had stopped keeping track of his doings.

He had murdered nearly everyone. No surprise there.

Only a few were left standing – and even they weren’t really standing anymore.

He could see the poor few still living crawling on the bloodied ground, trying to get up as he towered above them, crushing the hand of a cultivator reaching for his sword.

Then he saw Lan Zhan.

He was limping, his usually pristine white robes were dirtied and bloodied.

His headband was slightly crooked, his hair no longer neatly styled – he no longer looked like an untouchable god. He looked… exhausted. Human.

“Wei Ying”

Lan Zhans voice was still strong, but it sounded pleading. It sounded like a ‘Please stop’.

Wei Ying saw himself, saw how he didn’t even take note of it. Saw how he was attacked once more.

And then he saw the impossible.

It wasn’t him who blocked the blow. It was Lan Zhan.

“Traitor!”

Wei Ying had absolutely no idea who that ruffled up guy was, but he seemed familiar. Su She? Maybe?

Lan Zhan remained quiet.

Wei Ying himself as well. He watched the memory, saw how his past self remained unmoving, looking like an angered corpse that was somehow still shedding tears.

“How can you defend him again! I always knew you weren’t as upright as you always acted! You court the devil by keeping that man alive!”

“No.”

The way Lan Zhan spoke made it obvious that he did not think of Wei Ying as evil.

Wei Ying couldn’t help but be surprised.

He kept on pressing down onto the seal, hoping to see the rest of the memory before the seal broke and he perished along with it.

He needed to know why Lan Zhan had been defending him.

And he did find out.

The memory progressed with Lan Zhan bringing Wei Ying from the battlefield.

Wei Ying could see how out of it he was, he could see that nothing would have ever reached him in that state, but Lan Zhan kept trying.

He was taking Wei Ying to a safe spot – a cave far away from the battle.

And as though that was not already enough, Lan Zhan started to take care of Wei Yings wounds, speaking soft reassuring words while Wei Ying kept trying to push him away, even cursing him.

But Lan Zhan tolerated it all.

And that was when Wei Ying got a glimpse of Lan Zhans eyes – in that memory he looked different.

And suddenly something clicked inside Wei Ying. Lan Zhan didn’t hate him.

But before the stone, that had been kicked into motion, could turn into a landslide, the memory showed its last scene.

Thirty three men appeared behind Lan Zhan, they demanded him to hand over Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan blocked them, even though they were clearly all elders from his clan.

He told them to step back – they did not.

He warned them not to try and touch Wei Ying – they tried.

Lan Zhan fought them all, striking them all down. In the end he said he would accept punishment for his crimes, he would go with them, but he wouldn’t let them harm Wei Ying.

Seeing how little choice they truly had, the elders accepted. Otherwise Lan Zhan could and probably would have cut them apart.

Lan Zahn faded out of the memory, just like the elders.

Tears suddenly filled Wei Yings eyes. But not because of himself.

He had been a student at Gusu Lan for long enough to know what punishment someone would get for hurting an elder and defying them.

And hurting thirty-three of them would mean thirty-three times the punishment: thirty-three lashes from the disciplinary whip.

Lan Zhan couldn’t have survived that.

Wei Yings emotions scrambled into place, finally he understood.

Lan Zhan had never accepted anyone breaking the rules, touching him or calling him by his birth name – but Wei Ying always got away with it – even if he was punished.

Still: Lan Zhan had never punished him any more severe than the rules asked for.

And back then when they had fought the tortoise of slaughter, he had refused all ideas that would have ended in Wei Ying sacrificing himself.

And much, much later, when everyone had called him a genius, a war hero, Lan Zhan was the only one who had told him off.

He was the only one who told him how much Wei Ying was harming himself.

So looking back, Lan Zhans ‘Come back to Gusu with me’ had probably never referred to a punishment.

Lan Zhan had wanted to help him.

Only an Idiot wouldn’t get that after seeing that memory.

Lan Zhan had looked at him with so much fond caring, there was no way that Lan Zhan didn’t care for him in one way or another.

Suddenly Wei Ying wanted nothing more than to see Lan Zhan and apologize.

Hopefully they would meet in death.

He pushed down onto the seal a final time, watching it crashing apart, finally giving in underneath the pressure and breaking into a million tiny pieces.

Wei Ying closed his eyes, accepting his fate with the last few tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Here I come Lan Zhan, I hope you can ever forgive me.”

When the wave of resentment came, it felt different than Wei Ying had assumed.

He had assumed it would rip his body into thousands of shreds.

He had assumed it would make him feel like he was burned and eaten alive.

He had assumed it would be an oppressive force taking all his life force from him.

But instead, all the energy crawled into his body, seeking a spot where it could be assembled and bundled – it didn’t want to be destroyed.

In consequence it didn’t destroy him either, it made him a vessel once again – like he had been before he had created the seal.

And instead of killing him off with the sheer amount of resentment that now swam around in his body, it formed something that felt like a golden core inside him.

He lived.

A-Yuan survived too. Still looking sick and weak, but breathing nonetheless.

And –

Wei Ying couldn’t believe his eyes.

Before him sat the one person he had been dying to meet.

Lan Zhan.

Ok, maybe he was dead.

“…Wei…Ying?”

Hearing the mirage in front of him speaking, Wei Ying tumbled forward, throwing an arm around Lan Zhans neck, crying into the mans neck as he pulled himself closer, nearly squishing A-Yuan between them.

“I am so, so sorry Lan Zhan, I misunderstood you – I take everything back. You were right, I was wrong – with everything. Please forgive my insolence!”

Wei Ying could feel Lan Zhan freezing up, could feel him flinch, then he felt something wet on his arm. The arm that he was embracing Lan Zhan with.

Before Lan Zhan could say anything, Wei Ying moved himself away and took Lan Zhan in.

He was only clad in sleeping wear. He was looking pale and sweaty. He didn’t smell like sandalwood like usually, instead he smelled of blood and bitter medicine. And there was blood on Wei Yings arms. Meaning that blood had to have seeped through Lan Zhan’s robe in his back and neck.

In fact Lan Zhan looked like he should be in a med bay instead of sitting around in the dirty burial mounts where his wounds could infect.

“Lan Zhan, I-”

This time Lan Zhan cut him off. “Minor wound. Don’t worry.”

Wei Ying went numb.

Wait.

The blood had come from Lan Zhans back and neck, right? Had these heartless Gusu People really whipped him thirty-three times? If so, how had he survived that?

But that much was clear as day: if Lan Zhan could bleed then he must be alive – in consequence both of them were alive. And on burial mount. During a siege on nonother than him – Wei Wuxian the cultivator who became the devil.

Wait, that actually brought forth many more questions. For example: how had Lan Zhan even gotten here? He didn’t look like he had participated in the siege after all.

Was that something the seal had pulled off? Some sort of ‘fulfilling your last wish’ joke?

“Wangji.” The shocked voice behind Land Zhan riled Wei Ying up.

How could Lan Xichen permit his brother to be punished this much and then act worried only a bit later!?

Without thinking about it, Wei Ying rose up and moved around Lan Zhan to block him from his brothers view.

“Wangji, I have already seen you. And even if I don’t know how you got here, please listen to reason and come here. You have been punished enough. Ask yourself – is this worth all your pain?”

Wei Ying was indignified at Lan Xichen ignoring him like this, but unwillingly he saw that Lan Xichen had a point in his words.

After all this was a siege against Wei Ying. And if Lan Zhan sided with him – should he ever do so – he would be taken down as well. And that was not at all acceptable.

Especially not now that Wei Ying was aware of how good and noble Lan Zhan truly was.

“Brother, Wei Ying is good.”

Wei Ying froze. Lan Zhan sounded like he was accusing his brother and the rest of the cultivators for having pushed Wei Ying into a corner – he spoke like he saw no wrongdoings in Wei Yings actions – like he believes Wei Ying was just exercising his right to defend himself and live. Like Wei Ying was just using the wrong means for the correct causes.

“Wangji!”

“I am impressed, how did you manage to twist the esteemed Hanguang-Jun like that? Since when have you two been this close?”

When Jiang Wangji stepped in, Zidian crackling in his hand, Lan Zhan stepped besides Wei Ying, showing no sign of intending to justify anything or rectify any accusations Wei Yings brother had made.

Wei Ying himself didn’t bother with his brothers’ words either. Instead, he just found himself puzzled as to why the vengeful spirits seemed to have been destroyed by the few cultivators in front of them.

They shouldn’t have been that weak.

And no one other than him should have been able to call them back – and he definitely hat not done so.

“Wangji, please.” Never had anyone seen Lan Xichen this pleading. “Return home with me. You shouldn’t let your feelings lead you onto the wrong path.”

“Not the wrong path.” Lan Zhans tone was harsh, unforgiving. “My choices.”

“Then go down with Wei Wuxian for all I care!” Jiang Cheng flicked his wrist and like a snake, Zidian shot forward.

It didn’t take a genius to see that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be able to dodge. He couldn’t block either. He had no weapon.

Without thinking Wei Ying moved, standing in between the whip and Lan Zhan, letting his back being frayed open as he faced Lan Zhan – shielding A-Yuan and Lan Zhan.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan made a move to reach for Wei Ying to stabilize him, but with his injuries the movement was too fast, forcing him back to his knees.

It had been a wonder for Lan Zhan to be able to stand in the first place anyway.

“Wangji!” While Lan Xichen only called out for his brother, Wei Ying went down with him, hugging the other man to his chest to help him take weight off his back. A-Yuan now lying across Wei Yings legs as he kept his back turned to his enemies so he could adjust Lan Zhans posture.

“It’s enough Lan Zhan. I understand. But that won’t change my crimes anymore. I will be convicted for them, so don’t involve yourself anymore. Thirty-three lashes are enough. I know you are the most righteous person in this world, but you shouldn’t have to suffer for my wrongdoings. Please don’t let your morals cause your death.”

“Don’t act like the generous hero here!”

A second lash came in, crackling down on Wei Yings back, but Wei Ying didn’t turn. He only looked at Lan Zhan. Trying to convince him of his words.

“Sect leader Jiang, let me handle this, please.” Lan Xichen spoke up, earning a huff from Jiang Cheng but the whip-lashes indeed stopped.

“Wei Wuxian, please let Wangji go. He has suffered enough on your accord.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s soft tone shocked all present people equally – just for very different reasons.

Nie Mingjue, who seemed to have been able to avoid qi deviation, was pretty sure that Lan Qiren would go into qi diviation pretty soon too. Now that he had heard the absolute devotion in Lan Wangjis voice, he suddenly understood why Lan Wagji and Wei Wuxian had continuously fought among themselves during the sunshot campaign. He may have been a savage man in his nature, but he wasn’t stupid. He could differentiate between fights caused by being too different and fights caused by emotional involvement and worry. He now understood their relationship to be of the second nature, not the first one like the world had always assumed.

Su She on the other hand saw the man he had assumed to be incapable of producing any positive emotion, an arrogant block of ice, speak as though he was trying to convey all his thoughts and feelings in just one name. And he remembered. Back then, when the Gusu Lan disciples had fought the waterborne abyss, Wei Ying had dived down to rescue Su She from said abyss. And when Wei Wuxian had been at risk of sinking as well, Lan Wangji had swoped down and dragged them both up even though that was just abut the most dangerous thing he could have done. Su She felt his insides go cold. Seemingly Lan Wangji had been all about Wei Wuxian even back then when they were all just kids – his weakness had never been studies or fighting, it had always been another man.

Jiang Cheng surprised himself: he couldn’t help but feel jealous. He suddenly saw how his own bond with Wei Ying had broken apart while Lan Zhan had managed to stick around even though his situation hadn’t been much different for Jiang Cheng’s own. It was an eye-opener. After all Jiang Cheng had faulted his brother for everything while Lan Wangji seemed to have chosen to believe in Wei Ying. Maybe this siege could have been avoided, had he chosen to have faith in his brother and given him backing instead of forcing him to go rouge.

Lan Xichen, in comparison to all others, was the only one who went downright pale. He could see his brothers love for Wei Wuxian so clearly, that he was sure everyone else would notice it as well. On top of that he saw his brother being more than just willing to die for his love. Right here. Right now.

“Lan Zhan, please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me watch you die.”

Even more than before, the surrounding people underwent sudden enlightenment.

Jiang Cheng’s reaction was immediate. He paled. He had never known his brother to be gay.

Nie Mingjue facepalmed. No wonder had that guy always flirted with every woman but never started anything. He had already suspected Wei Wuxian to be asexual during the war, but this? Yea, that certainly explained a lot.

Su She was more extreme in his reaction. He was simply and downright disgusted. But then again, he wasn’t surprised. Looking back at how Wei Wuxian had always clung to Lan Wangji nothing else would make sense as explanation. Wei Wuxian had wasted more breaths and eye battings at Lan Zhan than all the females around them. It was still a revolting discovery though – especially when Su She thought about the fact that Wei Ying had actually seen him naked once.

Lan Xichens stomach churned for another reason. So his brothers love wasn’t one sided. But even though this wasn’t intuitive: this actually made nothing better. Wei Wuxian would find his death after all. What about his brother then?

“Wei Ying.” I was amazing how Lan Zhan managed to convey so many things with just his name. Wei Ying found himself smiling even in this situation.

“’Then don’t make watch you die’? Aren’t you just too sweet?” Wei Wuxian belatedly noticed his tongue slipping up, but as always, he couldn’t stop his tongue anymore. “Well then lets both live happily ever after with our son?”

Before anyone could react to the ‘son-comment’, a sudden burst of resentful energy washed over them.

The destroyed stygian tiger seal had set the corpses into beast-mode after all.

The onlookers of the Lan Zhan-Wei Ying-scene turned, getting ready to fight.

Wei Ying lifted his flute as well, preparing for a draining attempt at subduing the corpses while moving A-Yuan off his lap.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan reached for Wei Yings wrist as he stood up.

“Lan Zhan, please let me go, I am the only one who can call them back.” Wei Ying shook his wrist lightly, but Lan Zhan didn’t let go of him.

“Will you live?” Lan Zhan looked at him seriously. His eyes intense.

“Good question, I don’t know.” Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan an easy smile, trying to keep the mood light. “But if I do nothing, we will both die. We all will.”

Lan Zhan remained unmoving at first, then he reluctantly let Wei Ying go.

“Thank you for your trust.” Wei Ying gave another smile and turned to face the corpses. He let his senses reach out and tried to sense in what areas of the mount the corpses still roamed free.

The answer was quite frustrating: Everywhere.

Taking a deep breath – drawing all the dark energy in his body outside and into his breath – he started blowing air into the instrument.

The quickest cultivators ahead of him immediately turned towards him. Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen attacked Wei Ying without second thought – assuming he was trying to aid and coordinate the corpses. A moment later Su She started playing some attack music on his gequin.

The other cultivators remained still and unmoving, still facing the front so that they could see the incoming corpses and hold them off, while the others dealt with the Yiling patriarch.

Wei Ying made no attempt to defend himself, he even closed his eyes as he continued playing a connecting melody – trying to tie the corpses energies into a single string so he could calm them all in one go later on.

But his goals weren’t visible to his attackers, so Jiang Cheng – the only one who could deal physical damage effectively from the distance – lashed out with his Zidian first – attempting to stop Wei Ying from whatever he was trying to do.

His plan didn’t work out though. Lan Zhan caught the whip without hesitation, letting his hand be seared and his body be shocked. He nearly dropped to the ground again – after all standing and fighting weren’t exactly a piece of cake after those thirty-three disciplinary whip lashes.

But he remained standing, showing the incoming attackers a straight up glare for daring to attack his beloved one.

In the end, Lan Xichen was the one who saw that his brother would protect Wei Ying until the bitter end or die trying – so he swooped in and fought off Nie Mingjue and Su She while Lan Zhan kept holding onto Zidian, hereby immobilizing Jiang Cheng until the man finally gave in and retracted the whip.

Lan Xichen still remeined standing in front of his brother and Wei Wuxian – not at all liking the fact that he had to defend a mass murderer, but he would gladly do so for now if that meant his brother got to live.

“I am done. I can deal with them.”

Surprised at Wei Wuxians tone Lan Xichen threw a single glance at the black clad man. He was smiling at Lan Zhan.

“How?” Lan Xichen didn’t miss out on the fact that his brother by no way doubted Wei Wuxian, in fact his brother seemed worried about the man at most.

“A secret melody.” Wei Ying winked at Lan Zhan. “It has been playing in my head whenever I needed to calm down – and let me tell you: it works miraculously well!”

Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a questioning look but let the vague answer pass anyway.

“Go.”

“I will.” With another smile Wei Ying passed by the Lan brothers and all other cultivators around them – except Lan Zhan they all tailed him with suspicious glances.

Wei Ying didn’t care though. He was used to mistrust. Besides, if he wanted to calm those corpses down, he couldn’t let his mind be disturbed.

So, he stayed serene, thinking of the music in his heart, closed his eyes and started playing.

Behind him Lan Zhan wavered, his eyes shooting open as he had to steady himself against a boulder.

That was Wangxian – the song he had written for Wei Ying! And as far as he knew, he only hummed it to Wei Ying once while said man wasn’t even fully aware.

How had Wei Ying remembered the notes?

And-

His heart jumped. Wei Ying remembered. Wei Ying had said this song had clamed him when he needed it. Wei Ying must have carried this song in his heart.

And most importantly: he used it to calm down the corpses around them – showing that his heart must have a strong attachment which he could write onto the corpses by plying the song.

Lan Zhan burst with love for this man.

He couldn’t stand by, he brushed his worried brother off, who had attempted to steady him, walked straight at Su She, took the guys gequin and joined Wei Ying – on his way already starting to play his own song. Effectively shutting Su She’s screaming about Lan Zhan’s audacity to steal his instrument up.

The cultivators could only watch on in bewilderment as they witnessed Lan Zhan and Wei Ying duetting a song all of them had never heard before.

It was a song these two obviously shared in between themselves.

And watching it was nearly scary: Lan Zhan was obviously boosting the effect Wei Yings music had, his pure cultivation nourishing Wei Yings demonic one.

One after another the corpses were put to rest.

Not only did they lose all life, they even sank right back into the earth, vanishing like they had never been there.

The duo played the song twice until all corpses were subdued, the resentful energy in the air fading – just like the resentful energy within Wei Ying and the energy all-in-all within Lan Zhan.

Shortly after having played the last note, Wei Ying wavered and fell unconscious. Lan Zhan caught him and went down with him, landing straight on the ground with his arms wrapped around Wei Ying.

When the other cultivators closed in in them, Lan Zhan glared at them – warning them not to make a wrong move.

And that was how – against all intuitions – Lan Xichen ended up bringing the Yiling patriarch to Gusu. Otherwise, his brother wouldn’t have gone back there for treatment himself.

In fact, because of that, the remnants of the siege, the rests of the major sects and a few others, had come together to discuss what should be done from here on.

Most of them still wanted the Yiling patriarch dead and Lan Wangji punished until he dropped dead, but there were also those who suddenly weren’t in favor of destroying Wei Ying anymore.

Like Nie Mingjue – he had seen how little evil intent had been inside Wei Wuxians eyes after he wasn’t threatened by them anymore. He had been there when Wei Wuxian had called the corpses off, clearly defending all of them even though he could simply have escaped alone. So, if they left Wei Wuxian alone, he probably wouldn’t be an issue at all.

Jiang Cheng was the same. Now that someone else had stepped up for his brother, he couldn’t really remain standing against him. And even if he couldn’t forgive him for killing his sister and her husband, making Wei Ying live and take responsibility would probably be more satisfying than just killing him once anyway. Besides, he had not forgotten his jealousy from before either. He wasn’t blind – he wanted his brother around. He had just denied that up until now – all because of his stupid pride.

Lan Xichen opposed a severe punishment as well – even if he only did so to keep his brother alive and in the best case scenario also allow him a live with his love.

Naturally there also where those who wouldn’t listen. Su She and Jin Guangyao wanted to execute a punishment ‘to set an example’, while others wanted ‘the evil removed from the word’ – all the while not knowing, that said evil was currently inside the Gusu med bay, arguing with Lan Zhan.

“Stop being so petty! I know you hate others touching you but the head doctor isn’t here right now and your bandages must be soaked if your clothes look like that! Let me change them already!”

“Wei Ying-” It was a warning, clearly, but Wei Ying couldn’t have cared less. “No, you are being unreasonable. Do you want your wounds to infect?” Wei Ying crossed his arms, looking impatient. “Or are you afraid of letting me see your wounds?”

Lan Zhan didn’t answer.

“Whatever it is Lan Zhan, get over it and let me help you. Please. I want to do at least that much after all the trouble I caused you.”

Lan Zhan looked like he still wanted to say ‘no’, but he didn’t. He was clearly affected by Wei Yings display of guilt.

“Besides now that you are my husband it is my duty to take care of you!” Wei Ying realized what he has said belatedly once again. Well, he just had to go and ruin it, right? Him and his loose tongue. He really should get rid of that flirting habit.

“Husband?” Lan Zhan looked deadpanned. His voice devoid of anything. But contrary to his expression, his eyes had taken on a dark sparkle.

Was he angry? Or maybe just on the way to getting riled up like when they were teenagers?

Suddenly very much desiring to tease Lan Zhan like he had done when they were young Wei Ying gave an enthusiastic nod, speaking enthusiastically. “Yes, husband! I mean you saved me, right? With that I am the damsel in distress, and you are my prince – thus a wedding is in order, right?” Wei Ying winked at Lan Zhan, puckering his lips in an act of expecting a kiss before he added a sweet sounding, “Besides we have a son already. And A-Yuan remembers what I said back then. Plus he said I was looking at you like a mommy looks at a daddy, so-“

Ah yes, there it was: Wei Yings teasing backfiring on him. He had not watched his mouth and was punished for it. And he most definitely had to fix that. As in right now.

“But then again, forget it, what do kids know?” Laughing it off Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan a small shove, making him sit down on one of the beds in the med bay, acting as naturally as he could, as he acted like he still only cared about changing Lan Zhans bandages.

“Children are honest. You are not.”

Surprised Lan Zhan would actually say such a thing, Wei Ying stilled his hands before they could come into contact with Lan Zhans robes.

“What is that supposed to mean? I will have you know that I am a very serious, very honest guy. That is why everyone likes me!” Wei Ying paused, then signed and corrected himself. “Ok, why everyone liked me. Past tense. The demonic cultivation gave my image a little blow.”

“Wei Ying?” Asking his ‘Are you ok?’ in the manner that was so much like him, Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying in mild worry. He did not like the undertone Wei Ying had just used.

“Ah, never mind. It is too bothersome to constantly be surrounded by people anyway.” Wei Ying closed his eyes. “Besides, most of the people I knew throughout my life and actually liked are gone by now, so…”

Lan Zhan fell silent, not knowing what to tell Wei Ying to make him feel better. Social contacts had never been his forte. That was always more of his brother’s talent.

“But you know Lan Zhan…when I understood that you didn’t hate me, that was good enough. It made me happy.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened. “Never hated Wei Ying.”

“I know that now.” Wei Ying signed, this time reaching for Lan Zhan’s robes for real. “But I didn’t get that for a long time. In fact, when we were young, I thought you at least liked me a bit but as time passed, I was surer and surer that you hated me for acting the way I acted, saying the things I said and in short, well just hated me being me.” Wei Ying undid the front of Lan Zhan’s belt, careful not to rip at it in case it would pull the fabric of Lan Zhan’s cloths and drag them over his wounds or the bandages. “But at burial mount I saw a memory of the stygian tiger seal. It showed me how you defended me and cared for me after the last battle before the siege.”

“You didn’t remember that?” Lan Zhan sounded surprised, he even sounded a bit pained.

“No, sorry. My cultivation tends to block things out whenever I am going through phases where I feel dark emotions very strongly.” Throwing the belts aside as their backs where bloodied, Wei Ying bent down a bit more so he could start taking Lan Zhan’s robes off.

“How much do you remember now?” Lan Zhan caught Wei Yings hands, not letting him touch his clothes any further.

“Well, you saved me, cared for my wounds, spoke some words I do not recall but remember to be spoken softly and then you were led away for-” Wei Ying nodded at Lan Zhan’s robes, clearly meaning the punishment. “And now do me a favor and set my hands free, I need them to undress you.”

“Don’t.” Lan Zhan’s voice sounded strained – quite apparently so.

“Oh, come on Lan Zhan, I already undid your belt, so we are halfway there anyway. Besides, it’s not like I will peel you out of your pants.”

Apparently, Lan Zhan didn’t take it the humorous way. His grasp on Wei Ying tightened even more.

“I will wait for the doctor.”

“You don’t trust me to do this properly, do you?” Wei Ying suddenly had lost all jokes and fun comments. He didn’t know why, but he was growing angry – the resentful energy escaping his body made that quite noticeable for Lan Zhan as well.

“Wei Ying-” That was a ‘no, that is not the issue’, a ‘I trust you’, an ‘I am sorry if I offended you’ – but Wei Ying wasn’t willing to listen. With Lan Zhan things always had to end like that. Ever since he had crawled back out of the burial mounts.

“Ok then, what is it if that’s not the issue? And don’t tell me it’s your hatred for touching as long you would let another touch you.” Wei Ying tried to pull himself free, but Lan Zhan didn’t let go of him. And Lan Zhan had always been stronger than Wei Ying.

Wei Ying still tried to free himself two more times. All the while Lan Zhan remained quiet, not willing to tell the truth.

“Yiling Patriarch!” Hearing the call of his title, Wei Ying finally managed to pull himself free, quickly using the chance to distance himself from Lan Zhan.

“Yes?”

“The child has woken up. He wants to see you.”

Wei Ying immediately forgot his anger, rushing towards where he knew A-Yuan to rest.

The boy had recuperated quite well. His fever had gone down, he had been clad in new clothes – and even through they sadly were the white mourning robes of the Gusu Lan sect and not something pretty, they were at the very least clean. A-Yuan had even had been provided with a few snacks.

By the time A-Yuan had finished them and gone back to sleep – strangely not asking for anyone of the Wens, which caused Wei Ying quite a few worries, even if it may just have been a trauma from the fever – the doctor had already changed Lan Zhan’s bandages.

That is how he ended in this situation: As he went back to join Lan Zhan again, feeling like he should inform him about A-Yuan’s health, the female doctor – who had just finished her work on Lan Zhan and clothed the man again – went straight up towards him and demanded him to take off his coat so she could change the bandage on his arm. The gash Lan Xichen had left there was quite nasty and bled quite a lot after all.

Not at all thinking about what he was doing, he undressed his clothes right on the spot – until he was only left with his pants.

“You aren’t exactly shy, are you?” The doctor smiled as she got to work.

“Me? No, I have never been the shy type.” Wei Ying send a semi-heartfelt glare into Lan Zhan’s direction, wanting to add a ‘not like the statue over there’ – he was taking the whole bandaging affair quite personally – but ended up with his words stuck in his throat.

Lan Zhan was looking straight at them – or him to be exact. With quite dark eyes. The look was close to an angry one but somehow different.

Anyhow, it went straight to Wei Yings gut, setting something alive in there.

Especially since Lan Zhan had his eyes everywhere but on Wei Yings eyes – he didn’t even know he had been caught staring.

“Oh, what is this? I didn’t notice it before when I wrapped you up for the first time.” The doctor ran a hand along the burn-mark on his chest. “It looks like the Qishan Wen sects coat of arms.”

“That’s because it is their coat of arms.” Wei Ying scratched his head, looking down at his own chest. “I got that mark when I pushed a girl out of the way. I haven’t seen her since though.”

“Do you want me to get you a cream for that? It may lighten up the scar.”

“That isn’t necessary. It has been healed for many years now anyway. Besides, I have so many scars that it doesn’t matter if this one if visible or not.”

“I see.” The doctor smiled. Her mien was a tat bit sad. “Take more care of yourself in the future. Your skin may heal but the tissue will never be the same once it was hurt that deeply.”

“Yes doctor!” Smiling in an easygoing way, Wei Ying watched the doctor disappear, then looked back at Lan Zhan, surprised to find him standing nearly directly in front of him.

“What is it?”

“When did you get so many scars?”

Blinking at Lan Zhan’s question, Wei Ying looked down at himself. “It’s not that bad you know.”

“There were a lot less.” Wei Ying looked up again, starring into Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“What? When did you ever see me naked before!”

Lan Zhan remained silent, instead just continuing to look at every single scar, his gaze hardening when his eyes found the burn mark on Wi Yings chest.

“You should have accepted that cream.”

“You sound like you really hate that scar.” Wei Ying laughed a bit, lifting his hand to feel over the scar. His skin had a strange texture there – much rougher and harder.

“I do.”

Surprised at Lan Zhan not only hating a scar, that was not even on his own body, and even admitting to it, Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan again, this time moving into his line of sight so that Lan Zhan’s eyes meet his own instead of the scar. “What? Why? Didn’t we agree back then that it was better for me to have it, than for MianMian to have it on her face?”

Lan Zhan remained silent.

“Hey, I am talking to you! You are being rude, you know!” Making a scene was one of Wei Yings strongest suits, so he went and acted spoiled – just like he had done so many times before.

“Besides, I don’t see why you would hate something I got because I was selfless for once!”

“That is not the problem.”

Not having expected that Lan Zhan would actually entertain him by letting himself be teased, Wei Ying smirked, forming yet another glorious plan inside his head.

“Well, what is the problem then? The one who I got the scar for?” He wiggled his eyebrows, hinting how he had teased Lan Zhan for liking MianMian back then in the cave of the tortoise of slaughter. “Ah Lan Zhan, rest assured, I never did and never will love MianMian, she is all yours.” He snickered seeing how Lan Zhan’s face shifted into something akin to annoyance.

“Oh and one more secret-” Deciding to add another layer to the teasing, Wei Ying stood straight, coming closer and closer to Lan Zhan’s face before he finally moved to the side a bit and whispered straight into the other mans ears. “-I would have acted the same way if you were the one about to be burned, we can’t have the most beautiful cultivator disfigured, can we?”

Instead of getting Lan Zhan to turn bashful or turn red or anything else that was cute, Wei Ying was shocked to see Lan Zhan flinch.

He immediately felt something wasn’t right. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have come that close to you. Or said that. Or done whatever I did wrong.”

Wei Ying stepped backwards, lifting his hands upwards in a show of ‘I give up, it was my fault’.. Lan Zhan didn’t react. Now this was bad.

“Lan Zhan? What is it? Talk to me please?”

Lan Zhan turned around and went back to the bed, Wei Ying could see how he was forcing himself to walk straight and upright. It must have been hurting his back more than anyone else would ever been able to bear. Or at least more than Wei Ying himself could have been able to bear.

“Lan Zhan, please don’t ignore me, ok? You know I say and do a lot of things, but I don’t mean them, so please-” As Wei Ying hurried after him, completely disregarding the fact that he was still half naked, Lan Zhan let out a shaky breath.

“That is also a problem, yes.”

Wei Ying froze. Just what had he done to mess up this badly? Before Lan Zhan had often been angry at him, but the silent treatment was new – and he did not like it, not at all.

“Lan Zhan, you are making me feel disliked again, I-”

“Disliked?” Even though Wei Ying had only tried to fix the situation by telling Lan Zhan what kind of misunderstanding would come from this, he seemed to have worsened it all. Lan Zhan was definitely in a bad mood now.

“Ok sorry Lan Zhan, I didn’t think about what I just said, forget it. I just-” Wei Ying broke off. What had he wanted? Why were things this complicated right now anyway?

“You know Lan Zhan, I just like you, so I want to tease you, I am sorry.” Giving up, Wei Ying rubbed his face, not knowing how else he should tell Lan Zhan that he was someone he regarded highly and had always wanted to be friends with. He just couldn’t control his tongue. But that changed non of his feelings.

“Do not say things you do not mean.”

“But I do mean it!” Exasperated Wei Ying found himself, for the first time ever, thinking Lan Zhan to be blockheaded and stupid. What would it take for Lan Zhan to take him serious for once? Sure, he joked around a lot but even he had his honest moments! Then it hit him, a genius idea.

“I know what to do to show you the truth of my words!” Rushing past Lan Zhan, Wei Ying went to the doctors table, snatched a paper and a brush plus the liquid ink, and returned to Lan Zhan.

In front of Lan Zhan Wei Ying ripped a piece of the paper off and started to write something onto it. “There! A truth-talisman! I developed it so A-Yuan couldn’t lie to me whenever I asked whether or not he had brushed his teeth!”

Lan Zhan gave him an empty stare, clearly not believing him – once again.

So, Wei Ying took the liberty to take Lan Zhan’s hand and put the makeshift-talisman on top of his palm.

Then he asked a question, his eyes glinted mischievously. “I presented you with two rabbits back in our teen days. Did you like them?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan’s eyes widened hearing his own answer, his ears started to turn pink in embarrassment.

“See, you can’t lie with that talisman!” Wei Ying snickered at Lan Zhan before taking the paper into his own hands again. “And now ask me all questions you want an honest answer to, I won’t be able to lie or evade the question for once so use this chance.”

And Lan Zhan did. It was nearly a surprise with him being such a goody-two-shoes.

“Did or do you like MianMian?”

Wei Ying laughed; Lan Zhan was way too cute asking that question even though the answer was so obvious. “No.”

“Why did you push her aside then?”

“Because I didn’t what her face to be marred.”

“Would you have done that for everyone else too?”

“Hell no” Wei Ying made a face. For all he cared Wen Chao for example could gladly have been burned. And Jiang Cheng would have had to save his ass himself, sorry not sorry, but being saved was a sweet-person-privilege not an angry-person-privilege.

“Then why did you say you would have taken that burn for me then?”

“Because you being burned would absolutely not be an option – ever. It was bad enough that the Wen sect dared to break your leg back then. I was already angry enough at them for that.” Wei Ying huffed, in fact, yes, his answer reminded him just how angry he had been back then. He would gladly have broken Wen Chaos legs as thank-you back then.

Lan Zhan fell quiet for a moment.

Wei Ying moved his head to the side, looking puzzled. “Wait, aren’t you going to ask me if I like you? I thought that was what you didn’t believe coming from me first and foremost.”

Lan Zhan hesitated for a moment. He didn’t know if the answer to that question would make him happy, even if Wei Ying did indeed like him as friend.

“Come on Lan Zhan, just ask me. Or else I will be sad because you will never believe me that I like you.”

Lan Zhan half-signed, finally giving in. “Fine. Do you like me?”

“I do. You always have been and always will be my favorite person.” At first Wei Ying smiled, glad to finally be asked the important question, but as he heard himself answer he nearly suffered a heart attack.

What was that with the favorite person? Hey, hey, the talisman was supposed to make him say the absolute truth – how did something that mushy come out?

And how could Lan Zhan always have been his favorite person when at some point his shijie had been around as well?

Or…wait a minute – the talisman was making him say the truth.

Wei Ying blinked. He had just realized he was seriously stupid.

He liked Lan Zhan more than his siter because he wasn’t just a friend.

Only now did he noticed how much more of his time he had always spend on Lan Zhan than on all others – girls included.

And he had always cared about Lan Zhan’s opinion more than anyone else’s.

Plus, he had only been this fierce in all his fights and arguments with Lan Zhan because he assumed Lan Zhan wanted to punish him for his ways or condemned him and that was the absolute last thing, he wanted Lan Zhan to desire when it came to himself.

So yes, he was in love with Lan Zhan. Which was kind of suboptimal.

Couldn’t he at least have fallen for someone who might like him back one day? Fate really was cruel.

“Do not lie.”

“Lan Zhan, I literally can’t lie right now!” Ah, good, Lan Zhan seemed to be stupid in this area – just like Wei Ying himself. He hadn’t realized what Wei Yings words had meant. Lucky him – that spared him the rejection and the awkward atmosphere afterwards – plus the heartbreak. Wei Ying however still averted his eyes, sitting down on the floor leaning back with his face directed at the roof instead of at Lan Zhan – who was seated on the bed across from him.

“You make it sound like you love me.” Ok correction: Lan Zhan was neither obvious nor stupid in this area. But he was stupid in another area. He said his words as statement, not as question: meaning Wei Ying could evade the truth since he frankly speaking would not be lying.

“Well I guess-” Wei Ying couldn’t help himself and sneaked a glance at Lan Zhan, wanting to see how Lan Zhan may or may not take a confession – just as theoretical knowledge. He however broke off when he saw Lan Zhan’s Face shifting through dozens of emotions.

“Are you ok?” Asking Lan Zhan that question had come naturally to him but since he was the one holding the talisman and not Lan Zhan, he may not get an honest answer anyway, even if he asked him. Then again Lan Zhan had probably not lied once in bis life. After all it was against the Gusu Lans sects rules.

“Wei Ying, put the talisman aside if you don’t want to tell me. Otherwise, I will ask.” Confused about what Lan Zhan was even talking about – especially since he had just completely ignored Wei Yings question, which could be counted as rude, which in turn would be against the Gusu Lan sect rules – Wei Ying failed to put the talisman aside.

“Wei Ying, did you ever like someone?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” Now that Lan Zhan had already admitted that much, Wei Ying suddenly had the desire to turn tables – especially since Lan Zahn’s last question for him had hit too close to home. Thus, he quickly took the talisman and slapped it into Lan Zhan’s lap.

“How many people did you like in your life Lan Zhan? Romantically I mean.”

“One.” As Lan Zhan hadn’t been quick enough to get rid of the talisman, he was forced to answer. Even if he was visibly not comfortable with having been made to admit that.

Wei Ying decided to make it up to him with a bit of his own honesty. “Me too. I only loved one person as well. Even though it took me half my life to figure that out.”

Saying it out loud was kind of embarrassing but seeing Lan Zhan’s surprised reaction made it worth it.

And suddenly Wei Ying went devil-may-care. He wanted to know who the lucky one was, who Lan Zhan was in love with, even if he had to admit his own feelings in turn. He was sure Lan Zhan would be too nice to force him out of his life.

Good thing that Lan Zhan was still holding the talisman.

And yes, Wei Ying knew fully well that Lan Zhan would be angry at him for drawing the next bit of information out of him – but whatever, he was a fool in love so he was allowed to do stupid things.

“Who is the one you love?”

Wei Ying had never seen Lan Zhan cast a silencing spell this quickly. Especially not on himself.

“That is cheating!”

Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a that-question-was-off-limits-look. Wei Ying pouted.

“Fine, fine. Then another question, ok?”

Lan Zhan didn’t lift the silencing spell, seemingly afraid of the prior questions answer tumbling past his lips – or he was simply burdened with serious trust issues now.

“Come on Lan Zhan, I promise to be good. I won’t pull such a trick again. I will even tell you something more intimate about me, that you want to know as apology. So, pretty please, forgive me?” Trying his best to look cute and lovable, Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan the puppy dog eyes – which was ironic given Wei Yings fear of dogs.

But Lan Zhan remained unmoved.

So, Wei Ying did the only thing he thought to be possible.

He played the game with and against himself to get back on Lan Zhan’s good side.

“Did you ever attempt serious advances at someone other the one you loved?” Quickly snatching the talisman from Lan Zhan, Wei Ying made himself force-answer the truth.

And he was quite glad he added the ‘except the one you loved’ clause – after all he was quite sure he had been serious to a certain degree when flirting with Lan Zhan at times. “No.”

Putting the talisman back into Lan Zhans lap, Wei Ying smiled again, trying to get Lan Zhan to loosen up. “There you have it, I am actually quite a sensible man. So please talk to me again?”

But instead of talking to him right away, Lan Zhan seemed to progress what he had just heard first. Then he picked up the talisman again and pushed it back at Wei Ying before lifting his silencing spell and asking his next question – quite obviously happy that the answer he had priorly hidden had not tumbled out along with the question.

“Did you ever kiss someone?”

To say Wei Ying was shocked at such an intimate question would have been a grand understatement but given the fact that he was holding the talisman, he had to answer. And actually, he was surprised at his own answer – wasn’t it a lie after all? “No.”

Lan Zhan froze. “You lied. How is that possible?”

Wei Ying, still under the effect of the talisman, answered right back. “I didn’t and it isn’t. I never kissed anyone.” Well ok, as long as he said it like that it was true. After all he had not done the kissing – he had been kissed.

Wei Ying had never seen Lan Zhan look so furious as he did right now. “Do not lie to me. I know you have kissed someone before.”

“Lan Zhan I really can’t lie right now as long as you ask me something! Besides, how would you know whether or not I had-” Wei Ying broke off. Wait, wait, wait. The only kiss he had had and thus the only kiss Lan Zhan could know of was that one – or rather the series of kisses – that was stolen from him at Phoenix mount. And no one except him and that overly strong girl should have witnessed that. The resentful energy inside him was way to weary of all people to not inform him about another presence had there been one. So that only left…the girl?

Oh. Wait: had that girl gone running around telling everyone about that!?

Well, that made it kind of embarrassing.

Or wait, no, right: After that kiss Wei Ying had meet Lan Zhan and they had talked about kisses. Or rather Wei Ying had told Lan Zhan about how many kisses he had had and teased Lan Zhan about how his lips would probably stay virgin for the rest of his life.

Suddenly Wei Ying had to laugh – so that was what this was about. “Ok, I admit it Lan Zhan, I lied to you back then.” Holding up the truth-talisman to empathize that he was indeed telling the truth right at this moment, Wei Ying smiled even broader, even now still feeling amusement at his teenager self’s way of acting. “Back then at Phoenix mount-”

Wei Ying definitely saw Lan Zhan’s eyes dodge his at that – which was strange. Hadn’t he wanted the truth in the first place after all?

Choosing to ignore that detail, Wei Ying continued with his explanation. “-I told you I had already kissed dozens of people dozens of times, right?”

Watching Lan Zhan turn back towards him, like he had not expected this but something else to be brought up, but now that it was something else than what he had feared, he was interested again, Wei Ying just had to smile again. How could anyone be this cute at Lan Zhan’s age and size?

“Well, my dear Lan Zhan, that was a lie.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened once again, suddenly the tip of his ears shone a bright red. “So, your first kiss was…?”

By the Lan Zhan trailed off, Wei Ying couldn’t stop himself from answering anymore. His reflexes of putting the talisman had been too slow and he couldn’t silence himself, so yes, he was in for an embarrassment.

“My first kiss was stolen from me just before I meet you on Phoenix mount. I don’t even know who it was.”

Lan Zhan didn’t move an inch – but the way his eyes suddenly seemed to have turned into deep, dark swirling pools of something powerful, made Wei Yings mouth go dry.

On instinct he licked his lips – not realizing how sensitive his lips seemed to be. His stomach however knew – if that flutter was any indication.

And Lan Zhan, who seemed to be tracking his tongues movement with his eyes, wasn’t helping to ease that feeling inside him either.

So, in order to get his attention somewhere else, he did what he always did. He started to ramble. “Well but you know, it was really strange. You know, I was already cultivation the dark path back then but the resentment inside of me made no move to defend me. Thus the one who kissed me must actually have been someone who the energy knew and knew of that I trusted them.”

Lan Zhan kept starring down at Wei Ying, making the other one’s mind grow even more chaotic, casing Wei Yings rambling to worsen – with the worst part being that Wei Ying still held onto the truth talisman.

“But I didn’t have that many people whom I trusted enough to let them come that close to me. Basically, there were only my shijie, and she wouldn’t have kissed me, just no, besides she loved the peacock back then already – my brother, and oh Lord, believe me, if he was the one who did that I would castrate him, but I think I am safe from that ever being a real danger, considering that he doesn’t know anything about love and will probably be a single for life anyway – and well, then there is…you?”

Wei Ying stopped at that. Wait a minute, did this truth talisman turn him into a detective? First off, he found out with whom he was in love with – and generally even just that he was in love with someone – and now he seemed to be finding out who had stolen his first kiss from him?

But Lan Zhan wouldn’t do something like that, right? After all-

All of Wei Yings thoughts skitter to a halt.

Lan Zhan was no longer sitting on his bed.

He was down on his knees in front of him. His hands on his cheeks. His lips on Wei Yings. And he wasn’t going slow either – in fact he was quite aggressive.

Lan Zhan was devouring Wei Yings mouth. He kept going in for more, not even waiting for Wei Ying to respond to him as he separated their lips by the tiniest fractions to bring them together at another angle just a split second later.

Lan Zhan made sure to move his lips from side to side, giving Wei Ying the feeling of their lips being inseparable even if they weren’t glued into one position.

There was no shyness, no hesitation – just an obvious hunger and passion that did not seem to be like Lan Zhan at all. But it was very much like the heated demanding kisses he had received on Phoenix mount.

So, it had been Lan Zhan!

Suddenly feeling as though the sun had decided to rise from within his body at this exact moment, Wei Ying threw his arms round Lan Zhan’s neck, responding as well as he could with his mind not being able to come up with a single coherent thought or course of action.

But it seemed to do the trick for Lan Zhan. He let out a low growl, his hand leaving Wei Yings face now that Wei Ying was pressing back so fiercely.

Possessively, he slid them down Wei Yings naked sides, one hand grasping his hipbone while the other traveled to his lower back, pulling him flush against Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying felt electrified, his whole body was buzzing. His mind went places that had never been explored before.

“God, I love you, Lan Zhan.” Not even realizing how he has started babbling again just moments after Lan Zhan had started to kiss down his neck, instead of shutting his stupid mouth up, he clutched the talisman – which he still held in his hand – even harder, withering under Lan Zhan’s lips.

But the very heartbeat that the words had come out of his mouth, Lan Zhan stopped his ministrations, lifting his face back up to look at Wei Ying.

To others, Lan Zhan may have looked normal, but to Wei Ying, there was a whole other dimension written over Lan Zhan’s features.

The usually golden suns that were his eyes, had turned into deep rich amber colored honey. And even if his face itself remained pretty much unchanged, his ears were red, his breathing a little quick, his lips parted, and there was a fervor written right onto his soul, which spoke volumes of how much and how long Lan Zhan had been dying to kiss Wei Ying like this.

“Repeat that.” Lan Zhan sounded like he was demanding it and yet was pleading for it at the same time.

And even in his dizziness, Wei Ying understood how fragile this moment was.

So, he loosened his hold around Lan Zhan’s neck – startling the man for a second, probably making him fear that Wei Ying had come back to himself and was filled with regret.

“Don’t let your mind come up with something ridiculous now Lan Zhan.” Speaking oh so lovingly, Wei Ying showed Lan Zhan the talisman once again before he held it to his heart.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, you are the love of my life. You have been since I came to Gusu, even if I only got it today.”

Lan Zhan didn’t move, but he was listening. And he was yearning for whatever Wei Ying was willing to give him.

So, Wei Ying decided to make his confession a grant one. Lan Zhan certainly deserved that. “Lan Zhan, you are not only my sun, you are my entire solar system – without you the sky isn’t infinite and the earth has no gravity. You are my oxygen, and I am dying to breath. I will walk to the end of this earth for you, I will go to and through hell if that means I can earn myself a place by your side.” Wei Ying couldn’t help himself, his lips just started smiling on their own accord. “I liked you when I first saw you, standing there in the moonlight with that regal countenance of yours, those all-seeing beautiful eyes of yours and that smooth voice, telling me about all the rules I broke. Then I came to adore you when you sat in class, all serious, and before I knew it, I loved you when you and I were alone in the library – I loved being around you so much that I took more than one month longer to copy all the texts than I would have needed.” Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan a peck to the lips. “And in case you didn’t notice – I flirted with many, but you were the only one I ever gave a present to. These bunnies were like us, weren’t they? A calm and responsible white one and a quirky, troublesome black one. And even they were lovers. We must truly be fated, I-”

Way Ying had no chance to sprout any more words of eternal love.

Lan Zhan had already shut him up, diving in for more and more of the only substance that could drive him mad with desire. “Like you, adore you, love you.” Lan Zhan was whispering against Wei Yings lips, staying so close to them that his lips dragged over Wei Yings as he spoke. “Want you so much. Always have. Back then too.” And suddenly Lan Zhan went even further, licking Wei Yings lips, biting them, pulling them and finally parting them as his tongue infiltrated Wei Yings mouth.

A wanton sound came out of Wei Yings throat, taking both of them by surprise. But while Wei Ying for once nearly fell into the pit of feeling shame, Lan Zhan seemed to have decided that just one of these sounds wasn’t enough.

He quickly turned Wei Ying into an instrument, pulling all his strings, making him use his voice to create all kids of new noises.

“Want to bed Wei Ying.”

These words shot straight down to Wei Yings lower half – not that that part of him hadn’t already come very much alive anyway.

“Want to bed Wei Ying every day.”

Nearly going insane from all the sensations and words, Wei Ying could only throw his head back, letting Lan Zhan do as he pleased as he sucked on his neck, making sure to lay a very visible claim on his beloved.

“Then marry me Lan Zhan, I’ll be the first and lace face you see every day.”

Wei Ying was only half aware of what he was saying, but Lan Zhan made up for Wei Ying’s lacking attention, by searing Wei Yings words into his mind, making sure to hold Wei Ying to them.

“Would Wei Ying want to marry me?” Lan Zhan pulled back after he had created a satisfactory mark, going back to kiss Wei Ying, talking to him at the same time – being cattier now than ever before.

“Yes, of course, I would marry you on the spot if I could. I have loved you for long already, I have no doubt I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Wei Ying kissed Lan Zhan back with an equal amount of passion, sneakily moving his arms while Lan Zhan was drowning in the sensation of his beloved kissing him back with no less affection or passion than he himself felt.

Then suddenly, Lan Zhan felt his robes parting, his belts and outer garments sliding open as Wei Ying moved his hands underneath them.

“But you will have to live with me being naughty and flirting with you all day and night long.”

Lan Zhan had no complaint regarding that.

His world, his life, was not only in love with him, no he wanted to touch him and marry him too – it made something in Lan Zhan roar in triumph. He bend over Wei Ying, covering the others entire sight. Wei Ying softly raked his nails up and down over his bandages.

Surprisingly Lan Zhan couldn’t feel his back at all – it might have been the pain killers or just his drunkenness of what was happening right now, but either way, he saw no reason to hold back,

For once he went against schedule, against plans and the proper order of things, giving himself to his racing heart and pulsing body.

He pushed Wei Ying down onto the floor, ridding himself of his upper and inner garments at the same, leaving him equally clad or rather naked as Wei Ying was.

Wei Ying drank in the sight of him, and even with the bandages, he saw the most perfect man he had ever laid eyes on.

“Gods, how did I land you – what have I ever done to deserve you.” And with that Wei Ying pulled Lan Zhan back down, demanding to be kissed senseless – Lan Zhan gladly obliged.

At least until Wei Ying drew a leg up and – whether accidentally or not – brushed against a rather neglected part of Lan Zhan’s body.

Lan Zhan’s breath came out in a strained puff. “Wei Ying, if you don’t what to be taken right here, right now, I would suggest you stop playing with fire.”

“And what if I do want it?” Wei Ying took a lock of Lan Zhan’s hair and twirled it in between them. “What will you do if I want my husband to make me his in all ways he can?” Traveling up the smooth lock of hair, Wei Ying grasped Lan Zhan’s ribbon. “Oh, and will I have a ribbon like that too after I marry you? I always liked it on you.”

Lan Zhan turned feral, ripping his ribbon off and tying it around Wei Yings wrists, tying him up before hooking Wei Yings bound-up arms around his neck. “You can have my ribbon right now. You are my husband; you are allowed to touch.”

Wei Ying suddenly paled. “Wait! That is what it means!? God, I am sorry for all the times I just touched it and even pulled it off without even thinking about it!”

“Have always loved you, have always loved the feeling and sight of you holding my ribbon, have always wanted you to take it after you knew the meaning.” Lan Zhan’s mouth didn’t stop forming words, making him talk so much that Wei Ying felt tears welling up – Lan Zhan was so obviously so in love with him, that it wrenched his heart.

“I know now. But I won’t take it off again.”

Lan Zhan froze. But then Wei Ying laughed happily, seeing his games being successful for once. “I’ll just straight up keep it. You are mine! Let the world see. You will get my headband in turn!”

“Then hurry up and get your headband.” Lan Zhan kissed Wei Ying again, relishing in the knowledge that whenever he felt like it in the future, he would be able to claim as many kisses as he craved for.

Wei Ying was finally his; Wei Ying had finally come back to Gusu. And this time Lan Zhan would make him stay – giving Wei Ying the life he wanted right her by his side.

Lan Zhan could feel Wei Ying looked arms around his neck pulling him down with even more force, making him feel like suddenly everything in this world had found it’s place.

He had certainly found his. He smiled a rare but honest. “Do you remember the song you played before? To calm the corpses?”

Taken off guard by the question, Wei Ying tried to figure out where this was going as he nodded.

“It is a song I composed for you. I hummed it for you in the Cave of the tortoise of slaughter.”

Wei Ying stopped moving all along, his mouth open, his eyes wide. “You composed that? For me?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying an endearing look. “I not only loved you back then, I was also aware of my feelings.”

“Are you teasing me Lan Zhan!?” Seemingly not believing it, Wei Ying smiled that happy grin of his. “I can’t believe it! Ah wait- you never told me the songs name!”

Lan Zhan nuzzled Wei Ying as he said, “Combine our names.”

“Oh, so wait, the top comes first, right? And with us, you are definitely the top, I am very sure of that much. So it’s Wangxian?”

Lan Zhan couldn’t help but fall even more for the man in his arms. “Yes.”

“Did you compose any more songs dearest?”

Lan Zhan smiled again, completely besotted. “I will play them for you on our wedding night.”

“Then I will take you to Lotus pier for our honeymoon!”

Lan Zhan hummed in agreement, imagining them side by side, clad in red.

He hoped the wedding would be soon.

And that his uncle would not go into qi deviation over this matter.

____________________

Autors note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked the FanFiction!

By the way, all sorts of feedback are very welcome :)

And please feel free to tell me if you have another scenerio in mind that I should attempt to write :)

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 8

Prompt: “hey, hey, this is no time for sleep”

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence and injury

Crash at Point Rain

The battle already rages below them as the 212th Attack Battalion descends toward Geonosis. Obi-Wan watches with great trepidation as the ground forces are already deep in the midst of a violent undertaking. The explosions kick up the dusty surface of the bug planet, creating a cloud that obscures his view from seeing anything besides the muted flashes of blaster and cannon fire.

The Force reeks of death and destruction. If the turbulence of the gunship isn't enough to cause his stomach to turn, the feeling of darkness is.

"Five klicks to the rendezvous, General!" the message is passed from the pilot.

"Very good, stay sharp."

Everything relies on things according to plan. So naturally, everything goes up in smoke.

A massive explosion next to them causes the gunship to jolt, nearly throwing half the men out the other side of the open ship. Obi-Wan whirls around in time to watch one of their other ships, hit by cannons, violently explode and fall to the ground in a massive fireball.

Oh, not good, he thinks, because as long as they are in the air, they are practically defenseless. The clunky ships only have so much maneuverability and the dust is too thick to get a proper visual to shoot down the anti-aircraft tech.

"Take evasive action!" he yells, though his orders are implied. The blast doors are slammed shut, and darkness encompasses the hold. Obi-Wan white knuckles the hand-hold, his heart dropping as the reports begin to come flooding in through his commlink of other gunships having the same issues.

He would have preferred to never step foot on this Force-forsaken planet again. One time on Geonosis is more than enough in Obi-Wan's opinion, but apparently, the bugs seem to have a significant role to play in all of this. He still remembers the carnage in that arena like it happened yesterday. It still haunts him that all of this could have been stopped had they managed to capture Dooku.

Instead, Anakin lost his hand, The Jedi lost numerous, and the galaxy received a civil war.

Cody's voice rings through on his commlink, sharp and frantic. "General Kenobi, don't land! The zone is hot!"

"But there's nowhere else to go!"

Suddenly, the gunship jolts once more, but this time the horrible sound of durasteel being forced apart and the heat of explosion accompanies it.

"We're hit, we're hit!" he yells over the alarms that now blare through the cabin. "We're going down!"

Some troopers fall into the walls as the ship loses control. Obi-Wan can see out the front window from where he stands, and the red sands of Geonosis are very quickly approaching. We're coming in at too hard an angle!

Another shot comes hurdling through the very window, shattering the transperisteel and striking the pilot. There is only time for a gasp of surprise, and then the trooper slumps forward.

"Brace yourselves!" Obi-Wan screams as the ship takes a nose dive. Gravity is pulling his body off the ground now, and despite his order, he finds himself suspended with only his grip on the strap as an anchor. The Jedi Master flails, trying unsuccessfully to plant his weight anywhere else and get some traction, but troopers are already being thrown at a terminal velocity within the durasteel coffin, pushing him out of any position of security he could manage.

When the front of the gunship slams into Geonosis, Obi-Wan is torn from the handle. He unceremoniously crashes into the durasteel floor, his forehead bouncing off it with a sickening crack. Darkness clouds his vision, but he holds onto consciousness as the belly of the ship follows close behind in the violent crash. He is tossed into a huddle of other troopers, their armor cutting into the unprotected portions of his skin. Obi-Wan has no idea if up is up or down is up, or how long they have been skidding across the surface of the planet. The pile of helpless men is suddenly thrown in the other direction as the ship seems to slow, but tip onto its side. Obi-Wan, on top of the pile one moment, is hitting the wall again the next. This time, he doesn't have a moment to react before the other occupants of the hold are on top of him.

The destroyed gunship itself has stopped, but everything still feels like it's spinning. He gasps through the thick black smoke that has funneled into the cabin, trying to move, but the four troopers that are slung across him have him pinned against the wall. His head throbs, his vision is blurred. He can't tell if it's from the smoke or he hit his head hard enough to give him a nasty concussion-- possibly both.

Through his haze, he hears groans of agony around him. His troopers have not moved since they came to a stop. He can feel their Force presences-- they're dim. Few. Many have perished, and many more are on the way.

Obi-Wan manages to get an arm free and pushes the clone that lies across his chest to the side. Blood covers the front of his armor where it looks like his blaster got jammed in his throat. He pushes down a wave of nausea and uses his newfound freedom to push another one of his fallen men off his leg. He's weak. Barely able to manage the weight, though he's never had issues before.

"General!" a faint voice calls from the other side of the ship. It takes him a moment to look up, searching lazily across the smokey cabin. A trooper slowly gets to his feet, stumbling over the bodies of his fallen brothers and landing on his knees at Obi-Wan's side.

"Trapper," he recalls his name. "are you injured?"

"Not as bad as others. And you, sir?"

Obi-Wan grimaces as another wave of nausea burns like acid in this throat, and decides to ignore that question. "Help me get free if you can."

Trapper is able to pull the other two troopers off him before practically collapsing. Obi-Wan pulls him to sit next to him with his back against the wall. "Well done, trooper. Rest now."

The clone sighs in relief, reaching up and pulling his bucket off, and holding it in his lap. Now that they have settled and the smoke has thinned, Obi-Wan can finally take stock of the damage.

The walls of the gunship look as though they were crushed between the hands of a giant. It's a wonder it held up the way it did judging by the force of their impact. Bodies of troopers are strewn about. Motionless. The smell of blood and burning flesh is already potent, which is just about pushing Obi-Wan over the edge.

"Pardon me, Trapper," he says before leaning over away from his companion and emptying the contents of his stomach. He vomits until there is nothing left, and then his stomach still twists, as though even its natural acid must be ejected. Tears spring up in his eyes and his face feels hot and clammy. Obi-Wan has to clutch the wall to bring himself back to his original sitting position. His hands are shaking. He folds them together in an effort to calm them.

His head hurts. It's a dull, radiating pain that encompasses his head and runs down his neck, making his body simultaneously feel like it's crumbling and completely numb.

He can feel Trapper watching him. "I'm okay,"

"Did you hit your head general?"

"A better question may be what didn't my head hit."

It's more honest than he usually is, but Obi-Wan is quickly losing the will to hide it any longer. He is holding back tears that he isn't sure why are trying to force themselves out. He's felt greater agonies, been through worse tribulations.

But the tears don't seem to be sadness. It's difficult to place, but he feels angry? Frustrated? With every passing moment, his emotion seems to change.

It's exhausting. He's exhausted. Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath and lets his heavy eyelids fall closed. Though the gunship was dark already, the total darkness is like immediate relief.

"Hey, general, this is no time for sleep."

"It sure feels like it," he groans.

"If you have a concussion you must stay awake to monitor your symptoms, sir."

"And if I decide to nap?"

Silence hangs between them for a long moment.

"I believe there is a chance you may not wake up. Sir."

As enticing as that sounds in the moment, Obi-Wan forces his eyes open again, rolling his head slowly to the side to look at Trapper.

"We can't have that, I suppose."

Minutes or hours later-- Obi-Wan isn't sure-- voices echo from outside and rapid footsteps approach. Not the buzz of Geonosisans nor the clank of battle droids, which is comforting at least. He grips his lightsaber anyway, ready to use it if needed.

Obi-Wan isn't sure of how much help he could possibly be, though. After taking greater stock of his injuries, he is quite sure he won't be able to stand on his own for more than a few minutes, nevermind actually fighting.

The door of the gunship is forced open and light streams in, causing a flare of pain behind his sensitive eyes. He squints through the daylight until his swimming vision finally focuses long enough to see familiar troopers.

"Waxer, Boil. Am I glad to see you," he pauses as they run forward to meet them, their gaze obviously wandering to their dead brothers lying about. "Trapper and I are the only ones still alive."

"Good to see you, sir," They hoist him to his feet, quicker than he probably should have been by the way everything goes black for a few long seconds, but Waxer keeps his arm securely around him as he blinks through it. "Commander Cody's established the square just beyond this position..." a ringing in Obi-Wan's ears drones out the clone's voice, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut until it passes. "...trying to surround us as we speak, sir."

Right. The battle. The war. Now out of the ship, he is rudely reminded of the brutality of the ongoing battle that is only made worse by his pounding head. Blaster shots sound as though they are being amplified directly in his ears, and explosions and cannons make his knees feel weak from the light sensitivity.

Medical is going to have a field day with this, he sighs.

Though he wants nothing more than to collapse in his bunk for the next week and a half, he reminds himself of the importance of their success. They must recapture Geonosis and take out their droid foundries.

Obi-Wan pulls the Force around him, releasing his pain and using it to augment his strength. It's a short-term solution-- and something that will get him in deep trouble with the healers if they find out-- but it will do for now.

There will be time to rest when the war is over.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #hey hey this is not the time for sleep #violence and injury #head injury #landing at point rain #obi-wan kenobi #wax #boil #trapper #cody #star wars #tcw

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chrisrainicorn · 4 years

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Fair Game Week Day 4: Birds/Soulmates

A classic tattoo AU. Qrow realizes almost immediately Clover could be his soulmate because it’s obvious af, Clover isn’t sure right away because people named after birds are relatively common in Remnant so he needs more proof than that.

One day he rescues a bird from the snow thinking the poor thing is probably lost and freezing after flying so high to Atlas and Qrow is freaking out internally after seeing his mark because it’s totally him!

So... my original plan was to try to write a fic for this. Tho I knew I wouldn’t be able to complete it on time, and I would need more time to just stop and figure how the story was going to go exactly cuz I’m the kind of person that likes to plan a lot before putting stuff on paper.

I still have a little prologue tho, but I decided not to go further until I’m more sure about the plot so it doesn’t end up forced. Hopefully, I can one day I can go back to it and complete it!! Still, you can take a peek at what would probs be the first 2k under the cut:

Qrow was born with a bond mark.

He was still a rascal of a kid, who ran barefoot and chewed with his mouth open, tripped on the ropes that held up the tents of their current campsite, and liked to try to peek at the new shiny items the tribe people had stolen from their most recent raid only to be caught at the same second - though he still didn’t know they were stolen, or understand what a raid was - when someone finally explained to him the weirdly shaped spot on his abdomen he kept scratching wasn’t just a normal birthmark.

They explained to his sister too. He actually was intrigued enough by the story to settle down on the tent’s floor to hear about it, though she brushed all of that talk off with a “yeah, whatever”, rolling her eyes at the existence of magic symbols that would appear on your skin, connecting you to a person who, at some point of you life, you would realize they mean a lot to you.

“It’s like a guaranteed best friend!” He had grinned with a mouth that missed a few teeth as the explanation was concluded.

The explainer only smiled at him, letting out a pensive hum before shrugging and deciding on “Yeah, you could say that kid.”

He didn’t understand why his sister was so grumpy after that. How the premise of a friend didn’t get her excited - they barely had kids their age to hang with on the camp, the younger ones were annoying and the older boring, he could get behind the idea of some company besides his moody twin. And when he had asked, “Hey, what does your bond mark look like anyway?” She flicked at his direction one of the pebbles they had been throwing at the river to see them skip, and stormed off without a word.

He was still a restless kid, yet now one that had learned to avoid the ropes before he could get his foot caught on them, when he found out a bit more about the marks. How they could appear at any time of your life, or not at all, how you could get a new tattoo before actually meeting the person, or after years of knowing them. How his sister didn’t have one yet, how she didn’t like the idea of her lame brother having something she didn’t.

How some people would consider lucky he was born with one, how many would give everything to have a mark appear that early.

That would be the last time someone thought of him that way - lucky. Because soon he was tripping over the ropes again and taking tents down with him, and that was just one of the minor consequences of what they later would classify as his semblance.

The people of their tribe had thought it had been a funny inside joke naming the kid born with a mark shaped like that after a bird that was popularly known as a bad omen. Now it was just rightfully fitting. And not even the permanent tattoo on his skin of a four-leafed clover could serve as a good luck charm against the misfortune that now followed him wherever he went.

***

As he grew up as an outcast teen, the novelty of the marks went away together with the childhood wonder. Maybe because at his tribe, there weren’t many bonded people - they also weren’t really open about talking about this mushy stuff, so maybe he never knew about them. Or the ones who talked about it, did that because it came together with an almost-always tragic tale about how they were betrayed, backstabbed or straight-up stabbed by their match, or how they perished in some gruesome way, so he didn’t have a lot of positive examples to work with - perks of growing up around bandits.

Guaranteed best friend was now just some naive though he scoffed at. He was so stupid as a kid, maybe his sister was wise to just go “whatever” since the beginning - he would never admit that to her in his lifetime, of course. (In the future though, there would be a point his sister wouldn't make a face to the mention of bond marks anymore, and then a good while later he would stop to really think about how her semblance worked. And he would connect the two dots - he still never saw the marks, but they had to be there, right?)

Who decided those things were a good idea? They could pop up on you any second, without a warning, with just a random shape to tell you about this random person you were supposed to meet one random day. People would talk about letting fate run its course until you would meet them, and how there would be a moment when you would just know. It sounded so unreliable, and too much for him to bother worrying about when he needed to survive frequenting - or infiltrating as his people would have put - a Huntsman Academy.

Yeah, they would have some impact on your life. But that could mean anything apparently. You could be bonded to your parents, to your siblings, to any relative, you could be bonded to someone you looked up to or who would look up to you, you could be bonded to someone who you would only interact for a few months, days, minutes, or less. Or, the most coveted of all, you could be bonded to someone you would fall in love with. Those cases even had a specific name - soulmates. How special.

You could even have more than one. If you thought having to worry about a single unknown individual could make someone paranoid, just imagine having multiple marks! Thankfully, he just had one.

That was good. Because it would be just one person that would have to put up with him. He wasn't exactly the person someone would dream to meet, much less be bonded with. Who would want a bad luck magnet connected to them anyway? Just unfortunate, how the unsuspected match would have to deal with it. At least it was no one from the tribe, that would only hinder them down - those were the kind of things people talked about him at the camp, on the rare times they dared to make the cursed kid a conversation topic anyway, and he was just unlucky enough to eavesdrop it.

He also didn’t want more because he despised the one he already had - he would say he had never liked it, but it was just his sour mindset clouding the childhood memories about him happily imagining how his friend would be like. It had to be a sick joke. A small symbol that represented everything he couldn’t have. Years and years went by with it just there, mocking him constantly.

He had met many people he would have said they had influenced his life, yet apparently none of them were the one. Unlikely his sister, he wasn't bonded with anyone from his team - he assumed her semblance only worked on him because they were related. He wasn't bonded to the man who mentored him and gave a purpose in life - though after finding out the truth, he supposed that was a good thing. He wasn't bonded to his nieces, who were more family to him than his own blood, girls he had watched grow up from hyperactive, sweet-toothed brats to strong, independent young warriors - they were still a bit of a brat though.

So, at his age, he assumed that his semblance affected him in such a way he would never have the luck of finding the person. Fine by him. He stopped caring about that long ago anyway.

And that meant that, at his age, at this place, in the middle of what he could only call the beginning of a war, he should have not been thinking about any of this.

But here he was. Halfway through undressing to take a much needed shower to relax and warm him up after the mission at the dust mines. Feet planted in front of the bathroom mirror. The mark still just there, right at the end of the scar he got from a scorpion tail as if, by some stroke of luck, it had barely avoided being slashed in half. He instinctively grimaced at the sight.

Even if he strongly didn’t want to think about it, it felt as if there was a force preventing him from shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, not allowing him to ignore the signs.

He had seen the pin when they were captured on the first day. Heck, he even did a double-take at the shape that was unfortunately too familiar. But there were other more important things on his mind at the moment - like how they were being arrested.

Later he found out that was literally that guy’s name! And he didn't like how the information made a cold settle on the bottom of his stomach.

And then James partnered them up. He didn't like the idea, it had been too long since he had worked with other huntsmen on the field - and that happened for a reason. The company made him feel weirdly numb. Or that was him not being used to the cold of Atlas anymore, being in a mine with ice-covered walls certainly didn't help - how he just strutted along without sleeves?

Yet, he did his best to focus on the mission. Ignoring how Clover made sure to match his pace and walk by his side as they scanned the tunnels for any sign of the Grimm that had been wrecking the place. The silence would only be broken from time to time with inputs coming from his earpiece, and it had been just a step away from being uncomfortable. So he decided to not make this situation more unbearable for himself, taking a breath, he took a risk at the grueling task that was small talk.

“Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.” He was surprised with how casual he made himself sound.

“But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” How Clover seamlessly encouraged the conversation with a question also surprised him for some reason.

“Long time ago.” He sighed, gaze dropping to the floor. “I just found working alone tends to be for the best.” Great. With just a second into their talk, he had managed to bring its mood down. Not an unusual occurrence for any kind of interaction he was involved though. So why this time did he feel so… bothered?

It was just this entire situation bothering him - he rationalized with himself.

"Well, I think that’s a shame." Of course you would.

He didn't know how to respond, yet he didn't even have the chance. One misstep, and his foot left the ground with a slip. What prevented him from making more of a fool of himself by crashing his face on the icy floor was a quick strong grip on his arm, catching him mid-fall and pulling him back up without seemingly any effort whatsoever.

Clover patted his shoulder as he regained his balance and he didn't hold back the frown on his face. He just walked forward as he responded to the voice coming from his communicator, and it took him a second to realize he was glaring at his confident walk on the grounds he had just proved to be extremely slippery.

Who does this guy think he is?

Of course, they found the Grimm first, of course, it made himself stronger right in front of their eyes, of course, it ran away, and of course, there was now a gigantic hole on their path. One his partner there could have been at the bottom of it if he wasn't used to his semblance playing tricks just at the right time.

And when he dismissed his thanks for the head ups with a brief explanation about his semblance, his reaction was like no other he experienced before. No weird glances, no steps back, no awkward ‘that sucks’, just a nonchalant "that so?"

"Well, hey, don’t beat yourself up about it." He continued, and with a swing of his weapon, he made a new path for them to continue down the tunnel. "My Semblance is good fortune. Lucky you, huh?"

He punctuated his sentence with a wink before walking forward, completely unaware of how that revelation had shaken him to his core. He was still frozen on his tracks as if the ice from the floor had risen to his shoes and stuck him in place.

Good fortune. That guy was a walking luck charm!

Everything he couldn’t have…

His eyes were downcast, flickering everywhere as his mind processed the events. Yet now he wasn’t staring down at the icy ground, but the smooth tiles of the bathroom of his room provided by the Atlas academy. Though his expression was the same from when the words had just reached his ears hours ago.

Looking up by a fraction, the ink of his mark seemed more lively than ever against his skin. He hadn’t truly looked at it for a good while, avoiding it like he avoided the eyes of strangers, and doing so now, he found out he was unable to divert his gaze off it as quickly as he used to do before.

A pin. A name. My semblance is good fortune. A wink.

You would just know.

He let out a dry chuckle, the sound devoid of any emotion. That couldn’t be right. He barely knew the guy. And he didn’t need any of that cluttering his mind right now.

Lucky you, huh?

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #clover ebi #qrow branwen #rwby #my art #apparently the writing part of my brain only works if the ship has been obliterated by canon #this my life now #and im fine with that

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libradusk · 4 years

Text

Touch Starved | Captain Rex

Word Count: 2,129

Pairing: Captain Rex/CT-7567 x Reader

Summary: Grief is a frightening thing to deal with alone

warnings: mention of injury and death + heavy themes of wartime ptsd

a/n: Set just after the Battle of Umbara, someone give this boy a hug

Part of the Touch Starved miniseries

He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the wall for now.

Amidst the heaviness clinging to his bones, he’s half aware that at least half an hour has passed by at this point, between him all but stumbling into his private quarters and finishing up slumped forward and crumpled on the untouched bed.

There's something calming about staring into the vastness of plain durasteel. It's almost featureless aside from the grey sheen that coats over it. There are no harsh lines to writhe against the room’s shadows, no bright flashes of colour for him to squint against without the safety of his helmet.

The whole space is solid, clean - coldly familiar despite the room remaining almost untouched. The irony of it serving as compensation for his Captain’s rank wasn't lost on him, considering said position’s duties meant he was scarcely granted the leave to actually use it. Home comforts hardly existed for Clones, but compared to the trenches of Umbara the quarters might as well be paradise.

Captain Rex is grateful that the panelling isn't reflective, because he's positive he would fail to recognise the man staring back at him if it were so.

He looks like shit. General Skywalker had practically told him so word for word when the surviving strain of the 501st had returned back to base mere hours before. Any other General may have taken offence to the dishevelled appearance unmasked behind the grime-splattered surface of his Captain’s helmet. Dark roots have sprouted amongst his overgrown buzz cut, and there's grime and stubble smeared across his face and neck that refuses to wash completely away. Rex is confident that the blood rusted amidst it wont leave until he hacks the whole thing off. It reaches crumbling fingers to scratch and irritate down his chest and back even now in the sterile air of the room. It feels foreign and invasive - he's not even sure if all of it is his own.

A shudder rattles across his bones before he can strangle it back, and his head drops to his hands, breath expelling between tanned fingers and winding down his wrists to bind them in place.

The floor greets his eyes with the same, featureless metallic surface, disturbed only by his shadow as it steps across it. It’s smoky and hunched in the faint light offered by his bedside lamp. The longer he stares at it, the deeper it seems to pool. His gaze climbs slowly up the wall once more, hoisting itself up by his neck before the shadow threatens to drag the rest of him down into it.

Anakin had relented the moment he had looked into Rex’s eyes and seen the same hollowness that scraped across the cheeks of his surviving men. The Captain’s heart had sunk further towards his stomach the moment realisation had twisted across Skywalker’s features. The Jedi had silently noted the missing faces across their ranks and the sight of an almost catatonic Dogma restrained in his binders. Rex had hardly even been able to conjure the energy to raise his arm in salute, and now he was finally alone his limbs felt heavier than ever, weighted down with bitter remorse and a pain that sunk deeper than just his bones.

Even with the guilt and fatigue clamouring over him, Rex knew that the contrasting fire of fury and remorse that blazed across Skywalker's eyes would stay with him forever.

The rage he had emanated felt like a precursor to death. A prologue, perhaps.

Rex knew within him that right now he should be feeling the same way, but he had no energy left to sacrifice, even breathing felt the most difficult it had ever been. It was as though every one of his ribs were splintered and mangled around his lungs, smothering his heart until he could feel each pound of it screaming in his ears.

Why was it so loud? Why did his skin feel like there was something crawling beneath it?

His programming must be faulty, because this battle had truly knocked the wind from his sails, and that is something that should never happen to a Trooper. His use-by-date must be fast approaching, it's the only justification he can clamber to reach, though the thought provides little peace for him to cling to.

No. There was no exact moment to pinpoint where it had all changed for Rex. This descent into agony had come slowly, like sinking into quicksand. This was just the breaking point for a build up that had been clawing away at little parts of him for a while now. He feels pathetic, shame cutting through the numbness and threatening to cleave his fingernails through his palms.

Fives had even been kind enough to fill out Rex’s reports for him - the Captain wasn’t even sure that decision was part of the correct protocol, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain, even if he wanted to. Even so, it served as another stab to his conscience.The ARC Trooper had no doubt suffered as much as Rex himself after experiencing what they had all gone through, and yet Fives had felt compelled to stand in for his own Captain’s incompetence... Perhaps Rex truly was too battle-damaged to function properly for the remainder of the war, he hadn’t even been able to put down Krell himself.

...No. He had to keep going, he owed his men as much - both to those who perished in the darkness of Umbara and those who had found the strength to keep on living.

His death needed to mean something - to push them further towards victory for the Republic. He had to fight off the urge to curl into the durasteel and disappear for at least another night.

Good soldiers follow orders, after all - that much was still ingrained within him.

His hands curl into fists then and he forces himself to look at them. They’re clammy and gloveless, coated with smatterings of grime and smear from where he's rubbed at his face and neck. Rex notes then that he hasn't seen them bare in some time, having resolved to sleep in his full blacks and as much armour as possible for the entire Umbara campaign. The tanned expanse of his skin looks alien, the cold plastoid plating of his uniform felt more familiar at this point, and the thought frightened him more than it probably should for a Clone Trooper - Captain or otherwise. He notes then, that he hadn’t even managed to completely strip himself of armour before slumping onto the bed. How ironic that his own flesh felt more out of place on his body than hard, synthetic material.

What pieces he had managed to tear away were stacked halfheartedly in the corner. His helmet stares back at him across the room, its visor appearing endlessly dark even with the light offered to it. It sits atop the rest of the display, throned ritualistically as it always had been. Once Rex had stared at it with pride each night as he attempted to drift off to sleep, yet now it sat crooked and war-tattered with filth. Looking at it felt like staring into a shattered mirror. Rex knew he ought to repaint it, along with the rest of his gear, yet that thought was quashed as quickly as it appeared. To paint over the blood of his brothers’ felt like a cheap way of blanketing their deaths, their own sacrifice to the war.

They deserved to be mourned, to be remembered. If Rex didn’t, then there were few others that would.

Nothing would be the same again, and it shouldn't. That thought would keep him going, he would ensure it would.

But in that moment, as he stared at the sickly red that stained across the blue and white plating, the echo of blaster fire tore open his memories and dragged the screams of his dead brothers behind it.

The durasteel walls begin to spin.

….

“...Rex?”

The voice that edges through the doorway is purposefully soft, barely above a whisper in fact - yet it still triggers him to flinch in response. His throat feels like it's on fire now and he has to fight back the urge to claw at where his pulse drowns in bile. The bodysuit clinging to his skin now feels much too tight, and he resorts to tear open the buttoned collar as he twists in the direction of the open doorway, shame already sinking its clutch into his veins.

It’s you, if you had knocked before opening the door it had never registered to him.

Had he even remembered to lock it in the first place? At that moment he couldn't remember anything aside from the tragedy he had barely just scraped through. The blastdoor seals itself shut as quickly as it opened and the hiss it exhumes drags him back to the present. You're cloaked in the same dim lighting as he is now, it spreads your shadow and melts it across the floor towards where he sits, half facing you and frozen in contemplation. Even with the low light, he doesn’t miss the way your face falls once his sunken eyes drag over to you. Your expression frightens him more than Anakin’s ever could, because he can't help but feel directly responsible for the immense sadness glassing over your eyes in that moment.

Rex fights the instinct to duck his gaze in disgrace. You've never seen him in this state, hell he doesn't recall ever being as big a mess as this before. The Captain had always kept his weaknesses guarded - from his men and his enemies alike - from you - even when you had allowed him to stumble into your own.

This feels humiliating, but he also doesn't feel that he deserves to object.

The twisting has traversed to his stomach now and his toes twitch with the urge to run despite the heaviness weighing down each and every part of him.

But he also knows you well enough to be confident you wouldn't let him hide anyway.

You're striding over to him now, your shadow oozing closer and wider with the movement. Within three quick strides you're in front of him and then beside him on the stiff, military grade mattress. It doesn't take long, after all the room is tiny despite being built for a Captain, but now there is truly nowhere left for the Trooper to hide. He wonders then, if the dull bedside lamplight paints him as sickly as he feels. It wraps around you too, brighter and more clearly than when you had leaned against the doorway. Up this close he can see the pity pulling at your frown, as he had expected it to, but nestled alongside it is something softer. It's frighteningly warm and only spreads wider as you sigh and wrap your arms around him with no other hesitation. He can't help but crumble into the safety you extend to him, leaning in and allowing the glow to envelop him completely. In those precious seconds you had quickly become the only solace he had left in the world, one that was safe and warm and cared about him.

By design, Rex was not a selfish man, but just for a moment he allowed himself to fall to pieces for the first time and sink into the fantasy that there was no war, no death, no regulations - just two people that cared for each other above all else in the world.

Yeah, just a moment wouldn't hurt.

He's sure you're uncomfortable, pressed up against a half-armoured body that's stiff with anxiety, but you’re relentless as you drape him in delicate empathy and affection. He's not sure if it's your tears or his own wetting the plains of his cheeks, but it doesn't matter - he feels like he's drowning all the same as you begin to slowly rock the two of you back and forth.

The touch you give him is so different to all he's known for the past weeks. Your arms and hands are not dictated with adrenaline soaked desperation, and there are no exposed bones, no bloody, mangled hands or rattling last words to be heard, there is just you.

In that moment, you are the softest thing he's ever known and he clings to you like a lifeline. You continue to hold him like he could break and shatter in your arms, and he does, shoving away instinct and indoctrination to bury his scruffy face in your shoulder and sob.

He would survive, he had always vowed to come back and continue fighting no matter what else was thrown his way.

But for now he would lay down his armoured soul and let it grieve alongside you.

#touch starved #captain rex x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars imagine #captain rex imagine #CT-7567 x reader #thats a lot of x's holy #mine #star wars #clone wars #reader insert #rex is my favourite #captain rex #captain rex x you

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ithebookhoarder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11: A New Equilibrium. (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Masterlist:

Also available on AO3:

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

----------

Life adopted an unusual but steady rhythm the following weeks after the mens return home both in and out of Watery Lane.

Business was booming again, with the Shelbys at the helm. Men, all eager to enjoy the spoils of life back home in the city, eagerly filled the shop day after day, money in hand and bets ready to be placed.

There was something celebratory about it all. About seeing the hope in mens eyes as they’d handed over their bets. About hoping their luck had changed, even in most cases it hadn’t. Still, every win was significant as the staff handed over the winnings with a happy grin and handshake.

The staff in the shop felt similarly. Many hadn’t seen one another since the start of the war, having been assigned to various regiments. For those men, to be reunited again was something they’d been dreaming of. There were cheers and hugs as they’d arrived their first day back, laying eyes on the lucky souls who’d returned.

Not everyone had been so lucky, as the vacant desks reminded them. Of course, there were plans to find people to replace their positions but it was obvious it would be no small feat. There may have been hundreds of men desperate for work, but none of them would be those brave souls who had perished in France, all in the name of king and country.

Still, everyone did their best not to dwell, as was the way of life in Birmingham.

The Shelbys, in particular, had had a lot to catch up on. Four years worth of stories and news was quite a lot, even with the letters they’d been writing back and forth.

For example, Evie told them all about her schooling, and the fact she’d managed to secure a prefect badge for the final year. She couldn’t help but beam as she saw the pride swell in her father’s face - even if John and Arthur laughed themselves sick at the thought.

“A Shelby prefect? Ha! Now I have heard it all.”

She paid them no mind, finding it a little funny herself. At least she gave them something to laugh about, considering the bleak stories they’d shared. Granted, they made a valiant effort to try to liven them up, with the odd joke or two but even that couldn’t mask the death and horror of war, written all over their faces. Finally, something the Shelby smile couldn’t hide.

It was the same look Evie saw in John’s eyes when she went with him to visit Martha’s grave. They’d chosen to bury her in the cemetery just outside of the city, knowing she would have liked the fresh air, and rolling green fields around them, full of flowers. Evie had been to visit many times during the war, using it as a chance to escape when the house and the people in it had become too much.

She’d often sit and speak to Martha, telling her about what John had written in his latest letter, or even bringing her newborn child to see her. Evie knew Martha would have liked that, to see for herself that they were alright. She also knew Martha was probably happy to see John here as well, to know he was back in the city and safe.

So, she pointed him to the grave and left him to talk privately, knowing he probably had a lot to say. Four years was a long time after all.

There were other small changes too, since John, Arthur and Tommy had returned. The fact people tipped their caps at Evie when they saw her in the street - police included - was enough to make her falter. She’d hadn’t noticed it these past years, or if she had it had never been repeated enough to spark her attention.

It was as if the whole city knew the Shelby men were back. As if, the whole city was watching. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

It was an odd feeling. One Evie was quick to bury. No matter what Polly may have said had she known, there was too much to be happy about to let something as trivial as a premonition ruin it.

What good was superstition anyway? It was all rubbish.

Wasn’t it?

——

Evie should have learned a long time ago not to dismiss the idea of the supernatural, or that her aunt had a scary habit of being right.

She should have listened to her aunt’s warnings of premonitions. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have been so startled when she awoke one night.

It had been weeks now, since her father and uncles had returned to Small Heath.

Evie bolted upright, panting as she tried to work out what had woken her. Normally, she was a deep sleeper. It took saucepans or someone jumping on her to wake her from a good night’s sleep. However, tonight, something had yanked her from unconsciousness.

Then she heard it again: the muffled screams from down the hall.

Evie felt her blood run cold. Never before had she heard a sound so full of pain and fear. It rattled her enough that she gasped, feeling a tremor run down her spine.

It wasn’t a ghost or some demon in the night. This wasn’t one of her books, after all. The sound was painstakingly real and loud, echoing through the wall behind her. Wait. That was her father’s wall? Did that mean-?

Evie was already out of bed.

She didn’t even think as she bolted for the door and towards her father’s room. Her trembling hand reached for the doorknob and threw it open, preparing herself to see some horrific scene or someone attacking him.

But that wasn’t what she saw.

Evie gasped at the sight.

“Dad?”

She assumed it was her father, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. All she could see was a pale figure thrashing about on the bed before her, illuminated by the thin strips of moonlight pouring in through the window.

Tangled up in his sheets, a thin sheen of sweat plastering his body, Tommy Shelby almost looked possessed. Sobs and half formed shouts escaped him as his limbs thrashed about, reaching for something Evie couldn’t see. Some invisible demon.

It terrified her.

What did she do? Her instinct was to rush to his side, to try and gently shake him awake.

“Dad?” she encouraged, trying and failing to release him from the mental torment he was trapped in. How had he done it, all those times before, when she’d been small and similarly afflicted?

Evie couldn’t remember. Her panic was too strong as it rang in her ears, muting out anything that wasn’t her father.

“Dad! Wake up! It’s ok,” she pleaded. “You’re home. You’re safe. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open. A sudden cry escaped his lips, sending her staggering backwards in a panicked daze.

“Dad. Stop. It’s me,” Evie began.

However, her words clearly had no impact on him. He was a man in a trance, still gripped by whatever terror was still inside him as he flung out a hand onto the bedside cabinet and bolted upright.

His eyes whirled to her.

She then noticed what was in his hand… The gun was pointing directly at her.

She screamed.

It fired.

Her legs gave way as she dropped to the floor, covering her head as she felt herself go numb. The sound was deafening, the shot ringing in her ears as she stifled a sob of panic.

Plaster showered down on her head from the bullet hole above her.

The sound apparently woke her father from his terror induced haze as she heard the gun clatter to the ground. She felt it as he hurried to her side, cursing and trying to get a look at her trembling body. “Where are you hit?”

He repeated it again and again as he tried to get her to respond. It took a minute before Evie could even look at him, let alone move her tongue. “I’m fine… you didn’t hit me,” she stammered, pushing his hands off of her.

“Thank God,” he croaked, his tone suddenly sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

What had she been thinking? Better yet, what had he been thinking? Or feeling?

“You tried to shoot me?” Evie gasped. The moment finally seemed to reveal itself to her in painstaking detail. She didn’t know what to say. All she could do was repeat the statement over and over again. “You tried to shoot me. With a gun. A real gun.”

“I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t have fired if I’d known,” her father pleaded, his voice trembling as relief and remorse flooded through him. “Listen to me, Evie. Never come in here again if you hear me like that. Understood?”

Evie nodded dumbly. “But… I thought… I thought you were in trouble.”

By then, she heard footsteps and knew they were no longer alone. The gunshot would have been enough to wake the whole house. If any were brave enough to investigate it was different.

“Tommy?” That was Arthur’s voice, bellowing from the doorway. He looked almost comical in his pyjamas, gun in his hand, ready to fight. He would have been more menacing if his hair wasn’t poking up in all directions. “You alright?”

“Fine, Arthur. Go back to sleep.”

“I heard shots.” That was Ada, accompanied by a frantic looking Finn.

“It was a mistake. An accident, but it’s all good now, eh?”

Was it? Was it all good? Evie knew no one better at saving face than her father. She’d learned that a long time ago even if she had yet to perfect the art.

Somehow, he managed to settle everyone and send them back to the rooms in the time it took Evie to calm her breathing. She had only just regained control of her limbs when he re-appeared, slowly easing her up off of the cold floor.

This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be the one comforting him? Not the other way around.

Yet, despite shaking still and panting as if he’d been running a marathon, Tommy began to escort her over toward his bed.

“Evie. Look at me,” he soothed, brushing his hand through her hair and gripping her chin so that she couldn’t hide from him. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened but it was like I was floating, looking down at my body. I didn’t even feel the gun in my hand. You know I’d never hurt you, eh? Never.”

“I know,” Evie whispered. A small nod was the best she could offer as proof.

“It won’t happen again, alright? You have to stay out if I have another nightmare like that. I… I can’t control myself or my actions.”

“But-”

“Promise me,” he begged.

She’d never heard him so scared before in her life. His grip was tight on her, but not painful as he held her, held until she gave her word.

It was clearly all she could do to calm him.

“Y-Yes,” Evie gulped. “I promise.”

Thankfully, she saw the relief her answer gave to him. It was as if a literal weight had rolled off of his shoulders.

Finally, he finally seemed calmer. Able to let go of her and resume something of normalcy. It was why he switched back to his paternal nature, reaching past her to light the the lamp beside them a moment later. He then leant back, pulling the covers aside so that they could both clamber into the bed.

Evie wanted to laugh. The last time they’d done this, she’d been much smaller.

“Are you sure?”

Tommy nodded. “Would I offer it otherwise? We could both use some sleep and maybe with each other to protect us we’ll have no more interruptions.”

Evie hoped so.

“Alright then,” she shrugged, nestling her way under the covers and curling up beside him. If only the others could have seen it. Tommy Shelby. Sleeping with his daughter curled in his arms. It was enough to make even the hardest of men melt. “Just don’t hog the covers.”

“It’s my bed, thank you very much miss. Should I read you a story?”

“Don’t push it,” Evie sniggered, even if a small part of her was tempted to say yes. She was curious which one he’d have chosen.

However, as it turned out, it would have been pointless even if she had asked him. She’d only been in bed a moment before her eyes drooped closed. Apparently, coming off of such an adrenaline high was exhausting.

So it was, Evie fell asleep that night, nestled in her father’s arms. Even asleep, her grip was deathly tight as she clung to him, as if trying to prove he was safe beside her.

She only hoped when she opened her eyes in the morning, it remained true.

This was one dream she didn’t want to wake from.

——

Tommy was gone when she woke.

The empty space in the bed beside her told Evie that fact immediately as soon as she’d opened her eyes. However, her heart stopped racing as she noticed that along with her father, his boots were also gone - the boots her father normally wore when heading down to the muddy stable yards. His cap and coat was also missing.

He must have risen early and decided to go for a ride. It was the usual Shelby tonic for most troubles, after all. No war could change that. If anything, he’d probably missed the horses and the chance to ride them for fun, not as part of a cavalry charge or supply chain.

Evie calmed down immediately.

If Tommy had ever needed a ride, it was probably that morning. Evie wouldn’t forget the look of horror she’d seen on his face the night before. The ghosts that appeared to be weighing on his soul as he’d pulled that trigger and sent them plummeting into chaos.

It would take a while for all of them to adjust. Evie was under no illusions of that and last night had made it all too clear.

She sighed. She peeled back the covers, padding over toward the window and pulling the curtains back to let in the sunlight.

Everything looked pale and starker in the sunlight than it had during the night. Then again, she’d never been in her father’s room enough to notice. It was his space. His sanctuary. One, she had always been eager to respect. He’d done the same. It was only right and fair.

Well, until last night.

It felt uncomfortable to be there without him. It had been one thing to intrude last night when she’d thought he needed her. But now… now she felt like she was somewhere she didn’t belong. Like she was about to be caught and scolded.

Her uneasiness only grew as she turned back towards the door; the bullet hole directly in her eye-line.

There was no way to avoid it.

The hole in the wall was obvious. It was hard to miss, with the ripped wallpaper and plaster powder marking it for all to see.

Evie couldn’t bear to look. Then again, at least it could be filled and mended, hidden away beneath plaster and paint. If only all such scars could be fixed as easily.

With a soft sigh, she hurried out of the room and back to her own to dress, ready to face the day as best as possible.

——

“Morning.”

“Morning, Pol,” Evie mumbled, skipping her way down into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to see her aunt there, pottering about as if she owned the place. She was there most mornings, choosing to come early before the shop opened. Then again, she only lived a few doors away. It wasn’t as if she had far to travel.

“Breakfast’s on the table if you want it.”

Evie smiled gratefully, perching in a chair and beginning to fill her plate with toast and jam. It was her go-to in the mornings, and after last night, she didn’t know if she could stomach a fry up.

By now, Evie knew someone would have filled Polly in on what had happened last night. Even then, Evie wouldn’t put it past the woman for her to have found out through some supernatural means. She had an uncanny habit of doing that, always knowing what Evie was going to say before she even said it.

This morning was no exception as Polly made her way towards the now cooling pot of tea on the side and began to pour herself a cup. “I heard it was an exciting night last night.”

Evie chose not to say anything. She didn’t know where to begin and honestly, she was too tired to start what was sure to be a long conversation. All she wanted was to get to school and pretend like the night had never happened.

“You could say that.”

“I could. I could also say that, from what Ada told me, it sounds like your father gave you quite the fright.”

“I don’t know if nearly being shot by your father counts as simply ‘quite a fright’,” Evie grumbled, aggressively biting the edge off of her toast. “I didn’t… It’s not his fault, I know. It was stupid of me to think he could go off to war and come back the same person but I did. Alright? I did and now I don’t know what to do, Pol.”

Her aunt sighed. She gently perched herself next to Evie as she listened to her confession. She then pushed forward a bowl of porridge as an offering and made sure Evie ate some before talking.

“You’re not stupid, Evelyn Shelby. You’re a lot of things and stupid isn’t one of them, alright?” she began calmly. “Secondly, I think you were being hopeful before, when you thought about your father coming home. You were just a child, Evie. What did you expect? There was nothing wrong with hope. God knows we needed as much of it as we could get with everything happening over in that Hell Hole. Your father did an admirable job hiding any details from you in his letters, but I’ve heard people talk. I know the horrors he must have seen.”

Horrors that now continued to plague him, or so Evie suspected. Why else did he sleep with a gun so close by?

“You both did what you needed to survive, Evie. Now that everything’s changed, the war’s over and we’re trying to pick up the pieces of our lives,” Polly continued firmly, making it clear she didn’t want to hear her niece berating herself again any time soon. “There is no right or wrong way to feel. There isn’t a guide book on how we’re supposed to behave and act. It’s down to us to listen to one another. To protect each other and support our family."

She made it sound so easy. Evie didn’t even know where to start with such a request. Wasn’t it her need to make sure her father was ok that had got her into that mess last night? How was she supposed to support a man who wouldn’t even tell her the first thing about what he’d been through or how he felt?

Then again, it wasn’t exactly as if she was going to win an award anytime soon for her emotional honesty. She’d inherited that much from him.

Evie sighed. She bit her lip as she tried to control the urge to cry. “Will we ever get back to how we used to be, before all this?”

“I could read your leaves but even then it isn’t a guaranteed thing,” Polly exhaled, letting loose a plume of smoke from her lips. “There are somethings even the spirits can’t help with or answer. This is one of those things… There’s a darkness in men, Evie. They each have their own demons to fight, just as we women do too.”

“Demons?”

Was that was she was calling the nightmares plaguing her father and uncles? It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t they all done enough fighting for a lifetime. They didn’t deserve to come home and have to continue fighting for their sanity as a result of a stupid war they hadn’t even started in the first place. To have their choices on the battle field haunting them. To have their sins linger…

“Does - does that mean,” Evie stammered, “being a soldier, he must have killed. They all must have. Dad almost did last night… Is he a good man?”

It was the first time she’d ever uttered those words aloud, the first time she’d been brave enough to truly want an answer. Even after all she’d seen since she’d entered Watery Lane.

“War changes men. I don’t think there is a set definition of ‘good’ but I know he loves you. He loves you so much he was willing to go off to war and be shot at for you,” Polly sighed, squeezing the girl’s shoulder comfortingly. “That’s all I care about and all you need to know right now. Your father needs to handle all of this, his own way. Give him time.”

“I gave him four years, Pol,” Evie sighed. “How much more time am I supposed to give?”

Nevertheless, she knew better than to argue any further, so merely looked back down at her porridge and ate silently. It was only as she went to place the dish in the sink that she finally saw the man in question.

Her father was always a composed man, no matter how rushed he was. This morning was no exception. Despite the fact he was already running late, and hadn’t even done up his waistcoat yet, Tommy Shelby strolled about with utter composure.

“Morning all,” he greeted, reaching for the teapot and a cup. His chipper tone was completely at odds with his exhausted appearance. The bags alone under his eyes alone made him look almost ill, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“It lives,” Pol remarked, even if living was a bit optimistic for the state he was in. “Some of us have been up for hours, you know. John and Arthur are outside waiting to open. It was payday yesterday and half the town are banging on the doors.”

“What are you keeping the good people waiting for then?”

Polly rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath about Shelby men and curses as she stubbed out her cigarette and marched out of the room. It was time to unleash the masses and like a tidal wave, they would come, money in hand, bets ready to be placed.

Hence why Evie was more than eager to make her escape. The last thing she needed was to be trampled to death in a stampede of factory workers and drunkards. So she hastily grabbed her bag and coat off the hook by the door, slipping both on as she made her way past her father and toward the rear exit.

“See you later,” she gasped.

However, she hadn’t even made it to the door before she heard her name called. She paused, looking back over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I want you home straight after school tonight,” Tommy began, his tone oddly calm. “Alright?”

Evie paused. “But I was going to go by the yard-”

“Well, change of plans,” Tommy interrupted, smiling as he tried to soothe the sting in his words. “Look, these streets have changed since the men came back. I don’t feel comfortable with you wandering out there on your own.”

“But I wouldn’t be alone, I’d be with Uncle Charley-”

“It’s not up for debate, Evie.” His tone was starting to grate on her nerves, as was his distance. It was like when she’d first joined them all over again, barely seeing him except when he needed something or wanted to check she was still breathing. “I mean it,” he repeated, watching her for her acceptance. “For the time being I want you to come home straight after school. If you want to go by the yard then one of us can take you, but I don’t want you out there alone.”

Maybe it was last night that had rattled him. Evie couldn’t be sure, but if coming home meant he would relax for even a moment then it was the least she could do. “Fine,” she conceded, rolling her eyes and stealing a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, a smile cracking his otherwise cool expression. “Now go and show them other kids what Shelby brains are capable of, ey?"

“On it.”

——-

Ever since that night she’d avoided his room or even discussing anything related to their nighttime conflict. Of course, she still heard the odd moan, thud or cry. Only the odd night or so passed without a sound coming from her father’s room, but Evie wasn’t blind. She knew nothing had improved, even if he had found a temporary relief.

Evie, however, had found no such relief.

She was starting to go stir crazy in this house. It was now so loud, so crowded. Even though she wouldn’t have changed having them home for the world, she could have done without the noise and interruptions her father and uncles brought with them. Especially when she had work of her own to do that didn’t involve horses, betting or being a Blinder.

She’d resorted to studying at Polly’s sometimes after school. She’d also resorted to utilising the Garrison during the quieter periods, when she knew almost no patrons would be inside. Harry never minded, in fact he was rather supportive, letting her and Lara (when her brothers drove her mad) utilise the private room for her study sessions.

At least they both understood the struggle of a busy, testosterone fuelled house. They also understood the necessity of having female allies to get through it all.

Like now, Evie had strategically placed herself in the parlour where Polly just happened to be sprawled out by the fire, a book in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She felt somewhat bad, utilising Polly as a human shield like this, but considering it was that or failing her maths test, Evie would take her chances.

“All done, Pol!”

Her aunt was quick to appear over her shoulder, glancing over at the girl’s work for herself. It was only after she’d given her nod of approval that Evie closed the book and put it back in her satchel by the door.

“Lord only knows where you get yer brains from because it certainly isn’t your father.”

“What can I say?” Evie grinned, trying not to let the praise make her too giddy. It wasn’t often anyone ever received it in this house, let alone from someone so important - or at least in Evie’s eyes. Her Aunt was one of the people she most admired in the world, and one day she’d have the confidence to say it to her face. “I’m a natural. Must be the Shelby luck.”

“It’s something alright,” Polly smirked, lighting the cigarette she’d had perched between her lips. “At this rate you’ll sail right out of Birmingham and to the stars one day. There’ll be no stopping a smart woman like you, not in today’s world.”

Evie secretly hoped she was right, even if she felt guilty at the thought of sailing beyond the smoky horizons of Birmingham one day. “If we can now have a woman in Parliament then who knows what’s waiting for me out there?”

“Amen to that - but don’t let the others hear you saying it.” Polly smirked again before shaking her head as her name was bellowed from somewhere else in the house. “Now go on. Get out of here, I don’t need anymore Shelbys under my feet.”

Evie didn’t need to be told twice.

She was quick to gather her things and run them back upstairs, to her room. As usual, she placed them back by her bed, spreading the rest on her makeshift desk by the window. She loved that spot. It always managed to catch any sunshine the city offered, as well as offering a decent view of the houses nearby.

It was a great spot to think in. To write. To dream of a world beyond the smoky streets of Birmingham such as the one Polly had just described. As she argued, there was nothing wrong with her dreams and she knew it. It was more the guilt at thinking of needing anything other than what Evie had here that kept her quiet.

She knew her family would never see her desire for more as anything other than insulting. Or nonsense. So, she was content to keep such dreams to herself, mere scribbles in a journal. Mere stories she wrote by candlelight and stored in her desk, under lock and key.

Maybe one day she’d do more with them. Publishing them had always been a possibility, as had living them to the best of her abilities.

Why couldn’t she have daring adventures?

She was a women. Yes. She was young. Yes. But why should that stop her from doing anything?

Evie chuckled at the thought, hurrying back out onto the landing. She couldn’t see her family sharing her opinions, other than maybe Polly and Ada. She knew giving them her copy of Mary Wollenstonecraft had been a dangerous idea.

Speaking of dangerous, Evie couldn’t help but pause as she reached her father’s doorway, staring inside. She hadn’t dared step over the threshold since the other night and the ordeal she’d experienced inside. It wasn’t one either of them had been willing to repeat. Even now, she knew she should have turned away and kept walking.

However, curiosity had always been a weakness of hers.

Her eyes flickered toward the nightstand.

It was as if a siren’s call echoed from it, coaxing her in, coaxing her closer.

Before she knew it, she had strolled over, opening the drawer and staring inside. Just as she’d suspected, her father had left the gun tucked away, wrapped in a cloth and out of sight. He would never agree to throw it out entirely but at least they’d found a compromise. The bullets loose in the drawer were all the proof she needed that the previous threat had been eliminated. If he now woke up and tried to fire, the worst he’d be capable of was giving someone a fright.

The wall, and the family’s sanity, were most grateful not to be at risk anymore. Despite that realisation though, Evie felt a sudden urge ran through her to hold the gun.

She knew better than to touch it, even if a part longed to. To examine the item that had almost ended her life. To know what it felt like to hold one, to know what damage she could inflict upon an other if she so chose.

She shook her head.

She’d stayed long enough as it was.

Yet, as she went to close the draw, something caught her attention. Something she hadn’t expected to see.

A pipe?

Since when had her father moved from cigarettes to a pipe?

Evie paused, checking the coast was clear before she picked up said pipe and held it up to the light. Almost immediately her face dropped. She didn’t have to be an idiot to know what was inside wasn’t tobacco. In fact, it was a smell she knew uncomfortably well from the streets of her old home in London.

Opium.

It had almost been a pandemic in London. She’d heard enough talk of dens that had opened and of the roaring trade being run through the docks of the stuff. Her neighbours had always been ones for gossip and there had been more than enough of it to go around regarding the filthy stuff that appeared to be flooding the streets.

She’d heard what it did to those consumed by its enticing grip. She heard of their decay, physically and mentally - if they escaped being caught taking it and sentenced to prison.

She’d even witnessed it first hand. The amount of times she’d seen addicts, penniless and lining the streets as they begged for money to fund their habit, was heart breaking. But such was London. It was a place for both the elite and the tormented souls that comprised the lowest rungs of society.

Evie’s blood ran cold to think of such a substance in her house. To think of someone she loved taking it.

Anger flooded through her, followed by disappointment.

She didn’t know what to say or think. Instead, she chose the safest option for now, which was putting the pipe back inside the drawer and closing it shut. Out of sight, out of mind, or so she told herself, hurrying out of the room.

Confused was an understatement for how she felt right then. Did she say anything, even though that would prove she’d gone into his room?

Did she not mention what she’d seen and simply hope her father would confide in her?

Or, maybe he’d simply stop taking it?

It was official. Being a Shelby was too complicated. When had this become their life? Where had the care free, simpler version of their family gone? The family who had spent summers cloud watching, and made each other laugh so hard they peed. They were never perfect, but no family was.

But nightmares and opium? It was a world away from what Evie was used to.

She didn’t care what Polly had said. Giving it time wasn’t something she believed she could do. Not when it made her heart race and her palms sweat. First, she had been shot at and now her father was an opium addict…

She had to get out of the house - preferably before she lost her sanity.

——

She wasn’t the first Shelby to escape the house by covert means.

Evie had discovered that fact for herself some time ago, after catching her Aunt Ada doing just that one night.

Ada had often been off by herself, enjoying the higher sides of life in the city - or so she said after being caught by Evie one night, shimmying in the bathroom window. Apparently her window had jammed shut, leaving her caught off guard.

Of course, Evie hadn’t said anything to anyone, finding the whole thing rather hilarious as Ada tried to gracefully sneak in, her fancy dress and mud stained heels doing their best to give her away.

In exchange for mutual silence, they’d agreed a plan. From then on, Ada had been all too willing, assisting Evie in selecting something appropriate to wear. She’d also been the one to give her the first pair of proper heels she’d worn too.

“Here,” she’d smiled, offering a slightly worn navy pair of t-strap shoes. “They’re your size but I haven’t worn them in ages. They deserve to see some fun again.”

And, boy - had they seen some fun since then. It was that same fun Evie longed for then, staring out the window and sighing. Another night of house arrest was akin to torture, especially if there wouldn’t be anyone home with her anyway. Polly would be at her home, Arthur and the men would be down the Garrison, and she suspected Ada was going to be out herself. That only left her, and her father, if he didn’t have some last minute business to attend to. That, or if John and Arthur tag teamed him.

It was Saturday night. Was it truly so bad for her just to want to have some normality in her life, some excitement? Most people she knew would be out on the town… and now, so would she.

Her plan made, it had almost been too simple to get away with it. After all, Lara had been begging her for a night out on the town for weeks now. She’d called her friends when it had been quiet, and agreed the details as per their usual routine.

All she had to do now was sit back and wait - a task she didn’t realise would be quite so challenging. Not when every moment that passed made her all the more tense and itch with a need to escape the house and the chaos within it.

For example, the meeting that had been happening across the house was making Evie’s mood steadily worse. Even sat with Finn by the fire in the parlour, it was hard to miss a word being said.

They had been discussing business for the last hour, debating races coming up, issues with the office and staff, as well as a few skirmishes here and there. Apparently the Shelbys weren’t the only ones interested in expanding their business and takings now that the war was over.

“We’ll need their support if we want to keep that side of the territory,” her father explained, watching a very irate John and Arthur rile themselves up at the prospect of a fight. “We need to offer an alliance to the mill workers. They know what’s going on in that part of the city, as well as the fact they sit dangerously close to the Lees.”

“We can’t let those bastards snatch their support,” Arthur roared. “We need man power. Tom’s right. We need to send over an offer of peace.”

“I can do it.”

“You, Tom?” Arthur blinked. “It’s dangerous territory over by the Mill. Let one of the other lads deliver the message. It ain’t worth the trouble.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, eh?”

“Tom-”

Tommy shook his head, chuckling as he patted his older brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Arthur. I can take care of myself. Besides, there’s three Shelby brothers. Mum had her heir and John can be the spare if anything happens to me. What’s one less Shelby?"

The laughter from the group was instantaneous. Except for Evie. In fact, she could feel her blood boil as she turned and stormed from the doorway. Any guilt that had been lingering in her gut about her nocturnal plan had evaporated at the comment.

How dare he? How dare he prance about like some king of the castle? He’d swanned off for four years, leaving everyone and everything behind as if they had been a pair of old socks.

He could risk his life in the trenches?

He could disrespect the miracle of his survival, something so many had been deprived, by risking his life again now?

He could take opium whilst ordering her about? Lecturing her about self preservation?

The hypocrisy was nauseating.

Evie swallowed, her fists clenching as she ignored the urge to say something stupid and start a fight she knew she would never win. There was stubbornness and then there was Shelby stubbornness. Instead, she stormed down the hallway, heading towards the parlour.

It was official. If Tommy Shelby could do whatever the hell he wanted, then so could she.

#ithebookhoarder #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #thegangster'sdaughter

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gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Kingdom of the Sun [Fire Lord Zuko] 9

Chapter Warnings: Death, SMUT Story Rating: M

Pairings: Zuko/OC Kingdom of the Sun MASTERLIST

Last Airbender MASTERLIST My MASTERLIST

“You’re an Earth bender?”

Tsai paced around the guest bedroom where her mother was calmly sitting on one of the sofa chairs. Her usual cool and collected demeanor in play. She had always known that her mother was from an Earth Kingdom nationality but this?

She was furiously pacing, breathing harsh as she walked a tight rope bordering on a panic attack. They had just survived the collapse of a temple, they had almost died – hell, they had witnessed the death of dozens of loyal Ozai supporters. Amongst them Mai’s father. Arrangements were being presently made for the quick burial and service of anybody that had perished.

“And what? You were just going to keep this to yourself? Take it to the grave?”

Her mother remained stoic, cold.

Tsai really wished her brother could be here. Instead he was presently preoccupied consoling a certain mourning girl.

Sanju remained silent at her daughter’s questioning. “Does dad know?” “No,” She finally spoke single word. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? How can dad not know?”

The older woman sighed and relaxed in her seat for what seemed to be the first time since she arrived to the Fire Nation. She uncrossed her legs and lowered her tightly knit hands down to her lap.

“Your father and I… Like most unions of higher tier, it was arranged. Your grandfather always looked out for me and my family. Sencha felt that a union between his Fire Nation son and a woman from the Earth Kingdom would bring unity to Yu Dao and of course, he was right.”

Her daughter starred at her intensely both her eyes wide at the admission. How could her mother speak so calmly about this? “You’re very lucky to have found someone that reciprocates your feelings. I always knew you’d marry well, not the Fire Lord per say. You’d marry someone who wouldn’t be affected by… your background.”

She chose to ignore her mother’s ramblings, still much too preoccupied and lost in her own thoughts. However, Sanju did have a point. It was one of the red-head’s fears that was further intensified by this. What would the Fire Nation be with an earth bending heir? “So, you didn’t love him… dad?” Her daughter asked weakly shifting on to a more present and unavoidable topic.

“I learned to,” she responded. “He respected me and having come from nothing, owing everything to your grandfather, I had no choice but to agree to the arrangement.”

Tsai was in shock. She had never questioned her parent’s relationship. It seemed dull to her and just like every other older couple. For some reason she had just assumed they met at a dinner or something cliché amongst those lines.

It was then that her mother broke the silence letting out a weak laugh. The red head remained mute, still processing what her mother had just said to her. She had long stopped anxiously pacing the room and now stood frozen in shock.

“You don’t know how scared I was when I was pregnant with you. How relieved I was that your brother was born with the ability to ignite fire.”

The room suddenly felt small, asphyxiating, she had to get out of here. She needed space. “I-I need to go clear my head,” Tsai managed as she exited the room. Her mother didn’t reach for her this time.

Tsai didn’t know where to go. Chaos and havoc had been unleashed in the Fire Nation. Protesting citizens were mourning in the streets, chaos unleashed, widowed women crying for their husbands, orphans sobbing for their parents that had perished in the collapse of the temple. The nation was on the verge of an uprising.

It was all too much, too overwhelming. She didn’t want to think about anything. Didn’t want to process what had just happened. She just wanted to be alone and marinate in solace for a moment. And so, she went to the one place where she knew nobody would come looking for her.

She now sat alone a top of a slab carved out of white marble. It was dark in the room, certainly nobody would come down here, not a single noise could be heard echoing the small chamber. The Dragonbone Catacombs were strangely welcoming on this day. Still dark as night, still hosting the skeletal remains of the hunted dragons of the past, and the bodies of the Fire Lords of the past. The chambers dimly lit by rows of warm torches.

Her mind remained blank, numbed to everything as she hugged her knees closer to her body, head buried in between them, eyes shut exhaustedly. The place had been renovated since the bombing incident all those years ago. The scent of myrrh and incense still lingered in the air. Except that this time the room felt cold, empty and austere without the dozens of candles that had adorned it the last time she had been here. She found herself so deep into her own thought she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps echoing the stone corridor.

“There you are,” a hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched, eyes snapping up. “I was worried,” Zuko said looking concerned. “We’ve all been looking for you everywhere.”

Of course he’d find her. “I… I just need to be alone for a moment,” she stammered lowering her gaze to the floor. “Are you okay?” He asked kneeling down to meet her eye level.

She debated whether she should tell him the truth or not. Simply utter a dismissive stammered saying she wasn’t and just get it over with. “No,” She admitted truthfully. “Are you?” She met his golden eyes the feeling of concern being mutual. He licked his lips and shook his head slightly. “Don’t change the subject. I’m asking about you.”

She swallowed the barbwire knot that had formed in her throat. “I saw my life flash before my eyes,” she admitted, still avoiding his perturbing gaze. “Last time we were here,” she began lifting her gaze so that she could gaze around the dark catacombs. “I fucked up,” she divulged vulgarly.

She waited for his brass judgement. “It’s not just you,” she looked up to meet his expression with surprise, but instead found that he was looking away with the same shame she was. “We should’ve at least discussed these things. I don’t know what I was thinking.” That’s the thing. He wasn’t. He was the type to do stupidly impulsive things when it came to these things; specially to love. “I am so, so, so, sorry,” She apologized from the bottom of her heart. “To you to me. I should’ve done things differently,” her throat swelled with regret. She should’ve done things differently. They both should have.

“We still can.”

“Still can what?” She looked at him confused. “Do things differently.” She looked breathless as if she had been punched in the gut, which further fueled his confusion. “Let’s do things differently then.” She exhaled out slowly.

He didn’t get a chance to react to her words being silenced by a greedy kiss. She had made up her mind that she would marry this man before death did them part. She had never kissed him like that, with such urgency, with her mouth opening against his and body pressing up against his. Her hands fumbled with his clothes, his warm ones with hers. “This is not a proposal,” he managed to speak against her mouth, eyes closed. She didn’t seem to care if it was or wasn’t. He kissed her back just as hard, as if they were going to die. Her knees were growing weak from the intensity, he stepped forward and she leaned her body against the edge of the marble slab were his marble casket would one day lie.

She let out a breath when he bit her lower lip, parting her mouth open for him. His right hand cradled her jaw in it, the other supported his leaned weight as it rested on the slab where his body would one day lie. She sat on the edge of the marble and his hand traveled down the side of her body reaching her leg and hooking it around his waist. “Right now?” She spoke in between kisses. His mouth journeyed from the corner of hers down her jaw and to her neck. “What if somebody walks in?” She asked meekly still jaded at the memory of her mother and brother boldly interrupting the last time they had attempted to be together.

“I don’t care,” he spoke in a hoarse voice. His voice raspy scratching at her skin before dipping to the crook of her neck in a bite that made her want to melt. All the sudden, feeling hot and bothered, she didn’t care either. Her hands unfastened the sash that tied his regal robe together exposing his toned chest. She almost felt as if his eyes were burning against her skin. His hands lowered caressing the tender skin on her inner tight.

She felt there was no need for foreplay she was ready to go. Urging. Almost starved for his touch. His fingertips brushed her pulsing core. Just like last time she was hot, damp, ready for him.

The edge of Zuko’s lip curved, eager for what was waiting for him. Eager to do unmentionable things to her. He torturously toyed with the opening cleavage of her dress; slipping it down to her shoulders. His thumb reached for the bandeau she wore around her chest but before he removed it, he noted the gnarly scar that was inches below them in between. It was the knife wound from the day of Sozin’s Comet. He felt her hands on his skin and noted that the two had matching scars in their fronts.

Battle wounds from the war. She couldn’t help but smile softly, it was just another thing that connected them. The moment was short lived, his hands trailed up and he removed the fabric revealing her bare breasts. He squeezed both of them in his large hands and she winced a little at his roughness when he leaned down to kiss them. He leaned forward his nose carving the way, his hot mouth kissing her flesh inching down below her breasts. She arched her neck back and sighed at the pleasant sensation. His hands lowered to her sides and down to her bottom which he pulled her body forward closer to him. His lips and heated tongue returned to her chest taking turns between gently nibbling and teasing her plump nipples. She ran her hands through his long hair tangling a fistful of it. She lowered them to remove the robe off his shoulders. His hands continued to explore the temple of her body was which he had sworn to worship.

While Tsai did not want to spare another minute, he wanted to take his sweet time. As if unwrapping a precious gift. He wanted to explore every inch of her with his every sense.

His slender fingers followed a trail which he was becoming acquainted with. They sent an exciting chill down her spine when they wondered to the inside of her thigh closer to her heated core. He removed every obstacle in the way without much care.

“Please,” She pleaded him to ease the terrible hot itch that had formed in between her legs.

He slid in his index finger into her warmth. The sensation made him pause, he bit his lower lip at the sensation. The thought of being inside of her was enough to drive him over the edge. He couldn’t wait to sink himself into her and finally be one. He slid another finger in past her folds and began to wave his fingers in the fashion he was familiar with. “Please,” she whimpered with need for more.

His uncle’s best earnest advice had been to practice his virtues. “Patience,” He towered over her body leaning down and planting a wet kiss under her ear in that spot he knew made her hot. He bit it gently, making her shudder before returning his attention to her sex.

He lowered his head, lower and lower until she could feel his breath hot against her. “What are you doing?” She asked taken aback by the close proximity.

“I want to taste you,” He said through hooded eyes. She flushed at his words and let out a faint yelp when she felt his warm tongue lapping at her steaming entrance. His fingers remained on her opening stroking a clockwise circular motion on her swollen rose bud.

Her back arched involuntary and she opened her legs for him. Tsai bit a low moan at the sensation. Her hips grinded forward wanting more, needing more, needing him. She tossed her head back slightly and sharply inhaled at the pleasurable sensation. Eyes closed in a blinding mist. He kept a careful eye on the language of her body, eager for the next pleasurable sound that escaped her lips, he’d cherish them all. Every mumble, every whisper, every shuddered curse that escaped the prison of her mouth. She leaned back laying on the slab when he raised her legs over his shoulders.

He hummed making his mouth gently vibrate against her sensitive entrance. He continued delving his tongue in and out of her, his fingers moving at a steady rhythm. His eyes frozen on the feverish expression on her rosy face. She struggled against an escaping whimper and moaned out his name, relaxing into the cold marble.

“I’m almost there,” she warned of her approaching orgasm.

However, he didn’t stop. She felt the coil of aching nerves which had bundled up in her lower regions snap, releasing a pleasurable shock that rocked her body. She came in his mouth. He lowered her legs and met her eyes, her love juices crudely dripping down his chin.

“I’m not done yet,” he said licking his swollen lips.

Fuck. The erotic sight was almost too much to bear.

He hovered over her horizontal body and knotted a hand thought her long locks. He kissed her sloppily, his tongue impatiently exploring the cavity of her mouth. Still sensitive from her orgasm, she moaned into his open mouth, at the strange sensation of tasting herself on his lips. He pressed up against her with wanting. Their lower regions rubbing against each other in want. The confinement of his pants becoming tightly unbearable. Fuck being patient. He tugged at the cord that tied her dress together and tugged it off exposing her flesh to the cold, damp air of the Dragonbone Catacombs.

He stood up desperately undoing his pants with urgency. She sat up, legs leaning down the side of the marble, hands attempting to unfasten the rest of his regal robes and clothes. He exhaled at the freeing sensation when his erect member became exposed, twitching in desperate need to be touched, proudly bouncing against his navel.

For the first time he looked at her with what seemed to be hesitation. She paused, still breathing heavily and nodded in consent. She latched onto him like a tick and kissed the outline of his jaw, arms clinging around his neck.

He stroked himself for a moment, a lustful look on his eyes as he positioned himself at her entrance which was grieving for him, throbbing in heat.

“I love you,” she whispered against his skin. He grabbed her jaw in his hands and kissed her in response.

Slowly, with ease he pushed forward losing his virtue to her. She let out a huff when he filled her fingers digging against the skin of his broad shoulders.

She hadn’t been expecting him to be so goddamn thick.

It took him a moment to adjust to the welcoming sensation. Her sex was hot. It was warm, inviting, it made his heart ram against his rib cage. She fit him like a glove. This felt better than whatever he had been expected it to feel like. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, something she had rarely heard him do. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he moved again, and again, slowly painfully thrusting into her gaining a steady pace, getting used to the foreign sensation. She placed his hands on her breasts and he greedily explored them, kissing them, lightly biting her skin which made her feel lightheaded. She pulled at the roots of his dark hair in the back of his head.

“There,” she let out a low moan when he hit that sweet spot. He hit again and bent his head forward resting it on her shoulder. “Right there” she moaned louder wrapping an arm around his shoulder deliciously burying her nails into his back, lightly scratching it.

His pace increased and towering over her he pushed her back so that she was once again laying on the slab, he reached for her hips and dug his fingers in them tightly before pounding deeper into her. Each bold trust seemed to come harder and faster than the last. A grunt was trapped in his throat as he leant over and laced his fingers with hers. She cried out in bliss; her eyes closed enjoying the idyllic moment. He rammed harder and harder to the point she was almost at the point of begging for his mercy. She felt her nerves tighten and tightened as a dam of pleasure was about to break lose again. He was close, he could feel himself close to finish and suddenly came to an abrupt stop.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked leaning on her elbows looking up panting heavily.

“I need a moment.” He said taking in a deep breath, pacing himself, his ragged breathing matching hers, heart hammering in his chest as he tried not to get too excited.

“I should’ve married you” she confessed looking at him through her lashes.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago.” He exhaled and again picking up her leg hooking it around his body and leaning over her.

"What did you call this again? Disrespectful? Dishonorable?" She mocked. "Fuck honor," He laughed a little at her shocked expression. He leaned over and kissed the edge of the mouth before he once again pushed himself into her. He trusted hard, perspiring bodies slapping against each other, teeth sinking against her shoulder. She saw red with each stroke. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his hips. She wanted him deeper if possible, still greedily lusting for more.

Zuko wanted to hear her praise. Her moans, her encouragement, the way she moaned out her name was music to him. It threatened to push him over the edge. He wanted nothing more than to please her.

“I’m about to finish“ she let out a squeak when she felt herself come undone around him. The dam of pleasure breaking releasing a wave of satisfaction which stretched from the lower part of her stomach reaching the tips of her toes which curled at the sensation. Her walls spasming around his erection, making him swallow his breath. He stood witness to the lovely sight, his jaw going slack at the compressing sensation of her velvet insides.

She cried out in ecstasy and he continued his rough movements. He groaned out her name like a curse as he was about to reach his own end. Eyes closing in bliss, grip becoming loser around her body, vision blurring into a white haze around the edges.

“Tsai, move I’m about too.” He struggled to speak with a strained tone.

“It’s okay,” She breathed holding his face in her hands. He held her close and gave three strong trusts before slightly twitching inside her and coming undone as he too reached his orgasm.

He sighed drained before his body collapsed. He lowered himself to her. Resting his head on her chest. She kept her arms wrapped around him and caught her breath. He could hear her heart hammering against her rib cage. She kissed his forehead hugged him.

"Yes. Yes. Let's get married." She said with glassy eyes, stroking his hair.

"No, no, no, this was not a proposal." He said alarmed quickly sitting up.

"I know. That's why I'm asking you." "What" He looked at her confused and with disbelief.

"We are doing things, differently aren't we?"

Silence. His expression unreadable. There was a pregnant pause on his behald.

"Say something." She begged him as insecurity began to prick at her. Had he changed his mind?

A broad smile cracked across his features. "You've lost your mind."

"Is that a yes?" She couldn’t help but smile so wide it made her face ache.

Smiling, both kissed.

Xxx

The couple returned to the Palace hand in hand. Happy to have one good news amongst the unfolding chaos. Tsai made a note to prepare a stone seed root and thistles antidote as her form of birth control.

Their families all seemed to be in the Royal dining room not very hungry. All wore somber expressions on their faces at the events that had transpired earlier. Thankfully none of them had been hurt.

Both walked in hand in hand, side by side, which immediately caught everyone’s attention. “Tsai and I have something to tell you all,” Zuko began. The couple exchanged an excited look. Sanju raised an eyebrow, Iroh lowered his tea, Ursa and Kiyi turned their attention towards them. “We know there’s been a lot of somber news, but we wanted to share that in the midst of the darkness we have decided to get married,” was what the Fire Lord had wanted to say. Instead he was brashly interrupted when he said the word ‘but’ with a loud: “We’re getting married!” Tsai said excitedly hugging onto his arm.

“Ho! My boy!” Iroh cheered beaming jumping to his feet, his face flushing with excitement.

Ursa brought both hands to hide her wide smile as she also rose to her feet letting out a small squeal. Kiyi looked as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her and Sanju smiled a little standing up also approaching the happy couple to congratulate them.

Their parents said their congratulations as they embraced both into their uniting family. “So, did you take my advice?” Iroh asked Zuko wiggling his eyebrows at his nephew. His tone was loud enough that his fiancée heard. “What advice?” She asked arching an eyebrow with a hand on her waist. “Not now Uncle!” The man hissed embarrassed his face turning a deep shade of scarlet.

Kiyi stood before the two of them with a pout on her face and her arms crossed over her chest upset. Both of her eyes narrowed as she glared at both her brother and his lady.

“Kiyi,” Tsai began stepping forward leaning down slightly, so she was at eye level with the younger girl. “I also owe you an apology,” she began in a gentle tone. “I shouldn’t have left so abruptly last time I was here,” she let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I should’ve left at all, but what’s done is done and what matters is that we’re all together and your brother and I are starting our lives together,” she looked back at Zuko lovingly, who was currently distraught by his mother who was touching his face and on the verge of tears.

“I know you wanted to be a bridesmaid and I hate to disappoint you,” she clicked her tongue. The younger girl’s eyes widened slightly. Was she kicking her off the wedding party? “Instead I wanted to ask you- will you be my maid of honor?”

Kiyi’s reaction was immediate as her icy composure melted off her shoulders. “Yes!” She said tackling the older girl in a hug. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She beamed. “We’re going to have so much fun! And oh! We have to pick your robes! And the flowers- what about the cake?” She began to ramble on excitedly. Just like that it seemed as if all had been forgiven. Everybody was chattering excitedly about the future. It was then that Tsai’s brother walked in. Mecha was just as excited over the news hugging his sister and slapping his future brother in law in the shoulder a little too hard.

“I can’t believe my sister is engaged!” He said excitedly. “Well,” Sanju drawled in an unfriendly tone. Arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t see a ring,” she commented snidely.

“Mom,” Her daughter protested. “Fire Nationers don’t traditionally use rings. You know this,” she rolled her eyes slightly.

Her mother seemed happy but not ecstatic over the idea of their engagement. “So is dad invited to the wedding or what?” Mecha commented. “I hate to burst your bubble, but the New Ozai Society might’ve just been literally squashed, but the Anti-Revolution Movement is now stronger than ever.”

Tsai had completely forgotten about her father. Having been completely caught up with her emotions, her engagement and what had happened in the Dragonbone Catacombs. She hadn’t fully processed the bombing of the temple. The one responsible for so much chaos in the Fire Nation. The bombing… She thought about the one in the Dragonbone Catacombs and the one that occurred in the temple earlier today during Fire Lord Ozai’s funerary services. It was impossible for her father to be roaming Fire Nation lands freely. She doubted he was even aware of the secret underground tunnel system. Whoever had orchestrated both of these attacks had the ability to transparently sneak around the Fire Nation. This person was preparing everything, always one step ahead. Without another word she stepped out of the room leaving behind a room filled with very confused people.

“Where are you going?” Without turning around she felt Zuko join in her side as he trotted to catch up to her fast pace.

“I know who did it. I know who set up the bombs this morning and last time we were in the catacombs.”

Both rushed into a room in the third floor of the palace. Tsai slammed the room’s door open just in time to catch the red-handed culprit packing away his belongings in a rush.

“Going somewhere?” She drawled out, glaring at the man who was sweating bullets.

Zuko’s mediocre assistant, Nezu, looked started at having been caught. Without missing a beat he rushed towards the window, throwing it open ready to leap out. However, his path was instead blocked by the Fire Lord himself who say on the edge of the window cooly, with his arms crossed over his chest. An angry scowl on his face.

His head snapped back to the door where he saw Tsai leaning against the doorframe wearing a similar expression on her features. Instead her eyes were focused into deathly slits. Her hidden blades were pulled out and brightly reflected some of the light they caught.

“I know a rat when I smell one.”

“I won’t tell you anything!” The man spat, raising his hands up.

Zuko stepped down from the window, he held fistfuls of fire on both of his hands an absolutely livid expression on his face.

The terrorist was cornered. Tsai stepped forward holding her blade to the eyelevel of the man. Her menacing eyes never left his as she inched forward until the blade poked at its neck drawing a single string of blood out. The man saw her pause, expression faltering for a split second before she retreated.

A satisfied smirk carved his face when she pulled away and lowered her blade. “Your father was right, you’re a coward you don’t have it in you to kill me.”

“Maybe not… Who am I to play jury, judge and executioner?” She wiped the back of her blade on her sleeve. “I hope the side effects kick in soon, she said looking around the satchel she kept tied around her waist.

“Side effects?” The man uttered out a perplex expression morphing on his features. ��You’ve done your research Nezu,” Zuko began as he towered over the man. “You know my fiancées favorite animal is the platypus bear.” “You want to know why they’re my favorite?” The other probed as she continued pulling out several vials and small flasks and powders from her satchel and from underneath her sleeves. “Besides being really cute and the all-terrain predator-“ She finally found a small vial filled with a pale-yellow liquid. “Males have a venomous thumb. The venom a platypus bear is extremely dangerous, it can cause pain that can live out for months, painful hallucinations, convulsions and eventually loss of consciousness and body motors. It’s so rare very few people actually know the antidote for it. Fortunately, I happen to have it, now you’re going to croak or well, you know what will happen.” she threatened.

The man looked around the room nervously. He was trapped, there was no escape. He suddenly felt his heart accelerate in rapid palpitations. The sweat and perspiration began to build on his forehead. He could feel himself growing woozy. He was paranoid as the side effects began to kick in.

“Fine…” He grumbled. “Fine!” The man snapped. “It’s true. I work for the Governor; I work for your father. I’ve been working for him since before the war ended.”

“How many more of are there in the Fire Nation?” Zuko pressed.

“Just me.”

Then came the million-dollar question.

“Where is my father?” Tsai glared at the man holding the vial in between her thumb and index fingers. A more relaxed expression on her features.

“He’s in the colonies, he’s planning on blowing up the palace with the Avatar in it.”

Both of their eyes went wide as the couple locked eyes. It was another trap. Just like the funeral. Did Nezu kill the Fire Lord to set up the entire thing? No, it didn’t fit his style, it was too elaborate, too spontaneous. But this- the blowing up of the palace… It had to be a trap. And why hadn’t he done it already? What was holding him back? The threat of them surviving the bombing of the temple?

Tsai was so distraught, so deep in thought that she missed the man’s quick reflexes in snatching the flask from her hand and in that same moment downing the liquid.

Zuko stood idly watching. He lowered his hands-on offense allowing the man to drink the vial without opposition. “Wait!” She realized looking horrified. The man drank the bitter liquid and cringed before slamming it to the floor shattering it. “I turn in myself in as a prisoner of the nation,” Nezu said smugly ready to embrace the consequences. He raised his hands innocently. His reasoning was that if Fire Lord Ozai had managed to get away with the sentence of life in prison what would they do to him? Surely something not half as bad as that.

“You don’t understand,” she said looking at him aghast. “I didn’t actually poison you!”

Nezu felt his body suddenly grow cold at the realization. “You told us all that yourself,” Zuko backed.

“What you just drank was the actual poison!”

It was then that he began to feel the symptoms again. Not the feeble version his hypochondriac self-had tricked his mind into believing but the actually painful side effects from the venom. Zuko stepped around the room when the man knelt over with a sharp pain in his gut. Thick saliva foamed around his mouth like rabies and the man reached for his throat. The couple looked horrified as the man struggled to gasp for breath or reason and stumbled backwards backing away from them. Neither stopped the man from falling out from behind the window.

And that’s how Nezu met his end.

The couple looked at the open window mildly disturbed. So much death had already happened today. So much innocent blood had been spilled. It was so unnecessary. Things could’ve been done so much differently.

Zuko touched her arm in what she interpreted to be a comforting matter. “What do we do now?”

“We have to go back to Yu Dao. Warn Aang and the others.”

“We’d be walking right into his trap,” he said his brows shaping into a concerned frown. “Not if we’re a step ahead,” she said determinedly slapping a fist on her opposite open palm. Her brain rapidly turning as it crafted an elaborate plan of attack. “I’m flying back to the colonies tomorrow, confronting him and his goons.” “Alone?” He looked at her incredulously. “No way, I’m going back with you. I won’t let you go alone.”

It didn’t take much to convince her. She was going to get all the help she could get.

“Fine,” she agreed. “We leave tomorrow first thing in the morning. Let’s try and get some rest first.”

They exited the room but not before casting one long single glance at the open window behind them. The curtains lightly fluttering reminding them of the traitor’s demise.

Xxx

There was much to do. Close advisors had been instructed to comb the room for anything that might be useful for the strike against the Anti-Revolutionary movement.

And speaking of advisors.

Tsai and Zuko were presently walking back from sharing their condolences with Mai.

When the two ran into Iroh and Ursa in the parlor room. It seemed like both were on their way to pay a visit to Mai during her times of hardship. They were explaining to the two what had transpired with Nezu and how the man had fallen to his death and been poisoned by his own hand.

“I didn’t think he would…” Tsai lowered her head. Still running over the events that had transpired. All she wanted was for less people to die. To keep everybody as safe as possible.

She felt a hand being placed on her shoulder and looked to see Ursa’s hand on her body, but that wasn’t what caught her off guard. What caught her attention were the violet bruises that decorated her wrist. Those looked oddly like wounds of restraint from somebody that was defending themselves. She could hear Iroh speaking but wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. Eyes still engrossed in the wounds.

Ursa noted this and quickly removed her arm, self-consciously pulling her sleeves over her wrist hiding the marks. Tsai looked at her oddly, mouth ajar at the realization.

Whomever had killed Fire Lord Ozai, this person had to be somebody he trusted enough to get close to him. His killing it had to be personal, upsetting. She looked at Ursa’s face. Eyes widening in realization at who had killed Ozai. Neither Iroh nor Zuko seemed to notice the interaction between the two women.

“In happier news, I’m very excited to begin planning for the wedding,” Ursa said switching the subject with a small smile. “Yeah…” Tsai drawled out, unblinking, her mind still in haze at the realization of who Fire Lord Ozai’s murder really was. But why? After all this time.

“Ozai’s service was really a tragedy, but at least it is one less thing to worry about. Right?”

She wasn’t sure if she meant the collapse of the temple or the man’s funerary services, but guessed she meant the latter.

Despite her kind smile there was something painful. Something hollow about it. Ursa had once killed a Fire Lord before. It fit that she would do it again Zuko looked at his mother confused, unsure of what her cryptic words meant. Iroh kept quiet, yet there was a strange glint in his eyes that made Tsai think he knew more than the man was letting on.

“All I want is for you two to be happy,” she said closing her eyes with a small smile.

There it was, her admission.

Her motive.

She had done it for them. For her son. She knew that Ozai was not a forgiving man and that he would never surrender his ambition for his claim to power. That he would never stop torturing his family. So, she took up the roles of judge, jury and finally executioner.

There was a silent understanding between the two women as they shifted topics with ease. Both with hollow smiles on their faces. Zuko wouldn’t throw his mother in a pit of jail to rot. However, somethings really were best left unsaid.

xxx

AN: Next chapter should be the last UwU

#Zuko #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #Zuko smut #zutsai #Zuko x oc #avatar #avatar oc #avatar fanfiction #atla fanart #atla fanfic #atla zuko

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Can I get a first wizarding war fic where one of them is captured by death eaters and the other stops at nothing to find them/get them back safely. Thank you!

((A/N: Fair warning, this is very Regulus-centric. Also, happy Halloween. No one dies, although there are mentions of torture.))

James froze in place. He hadn't been moving very much to begin with, but now it was like he'd been petrified. His ears were ringing. It felt like he couldn't breathe. "What?" he managed to say. That couldn't be right-- but then, what else could have Peter in such a state?

"They captured Sirius," Peter repeated, lips quivering and tears still streaming down his face. It didn't make any more sense the second time than it had the first.

Getting captured by Death Eaters was as good as a death sentence. Order members didn't make it out from that. They'd get captured, and a week or so later, their mangled corpse would be found. It had happened enough times that they knew the pattern. "No," James pushed past numb lips. No, that couldn't happen Sirius. It just- it couldn't happen. James would die before he let that happen to Sirius.

"I saw it happen," Peter insisted, even though it was obvious he wasn't in a good enough space to be convincing anyone of anything-- especially convincing James that he should give Sirius up for dead.

"Then why didn't you stop them?" James yelled, not aware that he was stepping closer to Peter until Lily put a hand on his arm and held him back.

"They were waiting for us," Peter said, trembling. The more he talked about it, the more nervous he got. It was like it got more real for him the more they talked about it. "There were so many of them- as soon as we got there, they- they-"

"James," Lily said quietly, and Peter covered his mouth with one hand, eyes wide and horrified; it was hitting him that he was never going to see Sirius again. "I'm sure Peter did the best he could. It's a miracle he was able to make it back here. Sirius was his friend too."

"He's not dead," James snarled, ripping his arm away and disapparating back to their flat with a loud crack. How could they give up on him so easily? This was Sirius. The Death Eaters had a vested interest in keeping him alive for a pretty long time. They'd torture him, yes, but they'd want him lucid for most of that. When the time came-- if the time came-- they'd kill him slowly, but that would give James more time to find him. He'd need as much time as he could get, especially since he was doing this alone. Peter and Lily wouldn't help him; it was clear that they already thought James should start grieving. Remus couldn't help because he was busy with something else-- and hell if James knew what that something else was-- so he couldn't ask him for help either.

He could find Sirius. He knew he could, but at the moment, he was so stressed out that his mind was barely working.

He felt so sodding stupid when he finally thought of it that he wanted to bash his head against the wall. Him and Sirius were bonded. They hadn't told anyone about it because it was illegal, and a dark ritual besides. But they'd tied their souls together. It had fallen out of practice when arranged marriages were no longer the norm, but they'd gone through the Black Family library when they were fourteen and found the ritual.

It had probably been stupid for them to go through with it, but he'd never regretted it and he knew that it was the same for Sirius. They'd done it before they actually got together, which made it more stupid of an idea than it had already been. It made it all that better when they did start dating though, because once they started, they both knew that they weren't going to stop. They'd taken their friendship and moved it to the next level before they'd so much as kissed. Being bonded had slid into their lives so seamlessly that he'd forgotten about it.

Now that he was remembering they'd done it, he was ridiculously happy that they'd gone through with it before Sirius ran away. He could tap into that bond and find out exactly where Sirius was. He was pretty sure the original application of the ritual was to make sure that neither partner would murder their spouse because there were pretty severe consequences for that, and the book had warned that the other person dying would feel like someone was carving out your heart even if it wasn't by your hand that they perished.

Point was, James now had a way to find him. There was some spell he'd have to cast to activate it, and the only problem was that he didn't remember it. The book was still in Grimmauld Place, so he'd have to go there to find it. He had better chances of getting inside Grimmauld Place than he did finding Sirius some other way. If it were easy to find captured Order members, they would've been doing it long before Sirius had gotten taken.

He thought about sneaking into Grimmuald Place-- seriously considered it, because who the hell wanted to risk talking to Walburga voluntarily?-- but it he got caught before he could find the spell, his chances of finding Sirius tanked. He couldn't risk that. So he walked right up to the door and knocked.

He knew that he looked a touch mad. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and his eyes were probably blood shot and hovering over dark circles since he hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep. He was pretty sure that he was wearing the same clothes that he had been when he got the news.

Regulus was the one to open the door. He was more grown than the last time James had seen him, but he still looked like a kid. It was good that it was him; he was more of a pushover than either of his parents. "Potter?" he asked, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"Sirius is missing."

"He's not here."

"No shit. I need a book from your library."

"We don't have any books on tracking," Regulus said. His eyes flitted down James's body, taking in his appearance. "How long has it been?"

"Two days." Two days was more than enough time for irreversible damage to be done, but James was really hoping that the Death Eaters thought they had all the time in the world. If they rushed, he wouldn't be able to do anything, but if they were slow about it, he'd make it in time. A week, he reminded himself. The average time for finding Order members after they were captured was a week. Sirius had at least three more days before James needed to worry. Well, worry more.

Regulus swallowed. He glanced behind himself, then opened the door a little wider. Not much. An inch. James took it as an invitation and pushed it wider, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him and started heading to the library. Any time James had visited here, they'd spent almost all of their time in the library. It had books that couldn't be found anywhere else, and it didn't help that James couldn't remember the name of the book. He knew what it looked like. Him and Sirius had spent enough time staring at it and talking about the possibilities that the particular binding was seared into his brain.

He heard Regulus follow him, but it was in the background for him. It looked like no one else was in the house, which was probably the only reason that Regulus had let him in. "Do you-" Regulus asked, then paused to swallow again. "Do you think he's dead?"

"He's not." James would've felt it if he was. He was definitely still alive.

"Then how's he missing?"

"You might still be at Hogwarts, but I'm sure you've heard of Death Eaters there." He pushed open the library door. Merlin, he'd forgotten how massive this place was. Assuming that the books hadn't been rearranged though, he should still be good. He remembered which section it was in since every time they'd picked it up, they'd had to put it back where it was so no one knew what they were looking at. He headed over, but try as he might, he couldn't remember which shelf. He started scanning the spines. Faded crimson. Green lettering.

"He was taken by Death Eaters?" Regulus asked, the barest tremble in his voice. "But- why would they do that?"

James shrugged, then pulled his wand out and lit the tip. The lighting in this room was truly abhorrent. "Information. Maybe just to make him suffer."

There was a long pause. James didn't know it was a pause while it was happening though. He thought that Regulus didn't have a good response to that and was going to watch him search in silence. "Take me with you."

"What?" James asked, startled enough that he looked away from the books.

"Take me with you," he repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. No way."

"Why not?" Regulus asked desperately, taking a step closer.

James straightened from where he'd been hunched over to get a better look at the books. "For starters, I don't trust you. Last I heard, you were basically a baby Death Eater, and I don't have the time to waste watching my back while I'm trying to get him out of wherever the hell it is they're keeping him."

Regulus looked at him evenly. Or as even as he could get when he was clearly nervous. "Is there a second point?"

"You're underage. I'm not kidnapping you. And third of all, you wouldn't be able to get back to your normal life afterwards if I did let you come. You do something like that, and they'd kill you the next time they saw you. I can't imagine they're very kind to traitors considering how they treat the rest of us."

"I don't want to join them," Regulus said, gripping his arm desperately. "but I can't- they won't let me say no. Take me with you. I don't care if I never come back."

James could honestly say that he hadn't expected this when they'd started talking. "What?"

"Please," Regulus said, and there was no way to pretend like he wasn't begging now. "I know things. I'll tell you everything I know. Just take me with you."

"You don't know anything important," James said, which wasn't really what he'd meant to say, but he was living off of a two hour nap and about twenty cups of coffee. The filter between his brain and his mouth was extremely thin right now.

The look on Regulus's face said that he knew that. "Maybe not, but I know something that the Dark Lord doesn't want anyone to know."

James had a few choices here, and the one that was the fastest was to agree so that he could get back to looking for the book. Besides, he didn't actually want to leave Regulus out to dry. Regulus had done him a favour by letting him come in this easily, and for that alone, James owed him. Even without that though, he'd help anyone get away from the Death Eaters if they asked. And Regulus wasn't just asking, he was begging. "Fine, you can stay at our flat until this is all sorted." They'd have an extra room after Sirius got back anyways, since James had no intention of leaving him alone for eight hours at a time while he was healing. "I'll bring you there before I go get Sirius."

"I want to help you rescue Sirius."

"Do you even know how to duel?"

"I'm alright," Regulus said, but 'alright' by Black Family standards meant wicked good compared to everyone else. He probably wouldn't be able to take on any of the real threats, but James could handle them. Besides, the point of this was to get in and out as quick as they could, not start a fire fight; Sirius wouldn't be in any sort of condition to fight, and with James carrying him, he wouldn't be either.

"Fine, you're in. But you listen to me. None of that snark you're all so fond of."

"All?" Regulus asked, dropping his hand from James's arm and frowning at him.

James turned back to the bookshelf. Faded crimson, green lettering. "Every member of the Black Family that I've met acted like the conversation was a competition. You don't get to do that. I say shut it, and you listen. I say run, and you run. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Can you apparate?"

"I'm too young for a license."

"That's not what I asked."

"I can, but the Ministry can track that, and the Dark Lord is basically running that place. You know that, right?"

James nodded, then moved to the next shelf. "If things go sideways while we're there, you apparate away, and I'll come back for you."

"If you have Sirius, you won't remember me," Regulus accused.

"Right, because that's what I want to tell him. That his brother helped me find him, but I left him for dead. Like it or not, Reggie, you're part of the group now."

"Don't call me Reggie," he snapped. "I've been part of this for thirty seconds; it's not really long enough for you to give a shite."

"Actually, you were a part of this from the moment you let me in without a fight. I won't forget about you, I swear. In an emergency, you go to Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. I'll come get you."

There was a moment where he didn't answer, grinding his teeth together. "Fine. If I die because of you, I'm coming back as a ghost specifically to make your life miserable."

"Wouldn't that make you a poltergeist?"

"Poltergeists are artificially created, dumb arse."

"Oh yeah. Glad to see you're comfortable enough to call me names." He moved to the next section. He was close. He felt like it he reached out his hand, he'd be able to touch it. "That reminds me, I hear the 'm' word come out of your mouth, and I'm going to be pissed. We clear? I want to help you, but I'm not going to let you do whatever the buggering hell you want."

"Relax, Potter, I know how to edit my language."

"If we're going to be committing questionable acts together, you might as well call me James."

"Fine, James. What are you looking for?"

"If I knew the name, this would be a lot faster."

"I told you that we don't have any books on tracking." Regulus glanced towards the library doors. "You need to hurry up."

"I could be faster without someone chattering in my ear," James said with a scowl.

"My parents could be back any minute, and if they find us in here, we're dead."

"I haven't come this far just to be killed by your sodding mother. They show up and you prepare yourself for sidealong apparation. Got it?"

"Got it," Regulus said, swallowing nervously.

James's eyes glanced over the book, then shot back. He yanked it off the shelf to take a look at the cover, excitement growing.

"Is that it?"

He nodded, dropping to the ground so he could look through it faster-- holding a wand in one hand wasn't going to help his speed. There wasn't a table of contents because that would be too easy. Merlin, what had it said? This book was separated by the different rituals it contained, so he just needed to find the chapter with the one that they'd done. He started flipping the pages quickly, eyes scanning the words for anything that looked familiar.

James was strung out. He could admit that. He was having some pretty hard mood swings, which meant that he felt like he was flying when he found the right entry. "This is it!" He started to scan the page eagerly, but his eyes were glancing over the words without comprehending any of them. "Bugger it, I'm stealing this," he said, slamming the book closed and tucking it under his arm. He wasn't going to waste anymore time in this house than he needed to, especially with the threat of Orion and Walburga coming back. His head would be clearer when he was in his own flat, feeling safe-- and not feeling like someone was going to curse him in the back at any moment. "Let's go."

"I need to grab something from my room," Regulus said.

"We don't have time for you to pack," James said as they hurried from the library. Would he love to be more sympathetic? Yes. Did he have the emotional space for that right now? No. He didn't have the room to give a shite about anything but Sirius.

"It's one bad, and I already have it packed."

"Fine," James said and left it at that even though in the back of his mind, he was wondering how bad it must've been for Regulus if he already had a bag packed and ready to go. He'd think about that once Sirius was back with him, safe.

Regulus ran up the stairs, and James followed him out of habit. Sure enough, Regulus went straight to his wardrobe, plunged a hand into the back, and pulled out a knapsack. It probably had an expansion charm on the inside, otherwise it would be too small to get him through more than a couple days. They made it outside without any incident. Regulus gave a half-wistful glance to Grimmauld Place before he left, and James apparated them out on the front stoop.

Back in James and Sirius's flat, James pointed Regulus towards the spare room-- officially, it was Sirius's room, but they'd been sharing a bed since before they ever moved in here-- with the vague direction of, "You can stay in there while he's getting better."

Regulus gave him a loaded look before walking towards the room. James knew that he meant something by it, but he didn't know what. James opened the book back up, and Regulus tossed his bag in the room. Rather, he set it very gently by the inside of the door like he was afraid the offer was going to be rescinded at a moment's notice. He took a moment to stand in the doorway and really think about the enormity of what he'd just done. He'd left; he'd really done it. He'd never thought that he'd actually do it.

Now that he'd found the entry once, it was easy to find again. All of the information about the ritual and what could be done with a couple once they were bonded was right at his fingertips. It didn't even take a full minute of reading for him to find the location spell. A map, blood, and an incantation. His own blood was readily available, and the incantation was simple enough. The initial ritual had been rather complicated, but all the spells they had access to afterwards were pretty easy.

The part of the spell that took the longest was finding a map. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen, but he had to run down to the muggle store at the corner to get a map. By the time he got back, Regulus was sitting on the couch, looking awfully uncomfortable in the flat that he'd never once been in before.

It was only once James had the map spread out in front of him, wand on the floor and knife in one hand that Regulus leaned forward like he was truly paying attention. "This is blood magic."

"Well spotted," James said sarcastically.

"I thought you lot didn't believe in using dark magic."

"Speak for yourself," James muttered, because he didn't want to admit that him and Sirius hadn't told anyone about what they'd done. He made a cut on his arm and held his arm over the map so his blood started to drip onto the paper. "The whole ritual was dark; we didn't let that stop us."

Regulus went quiet, leaning back again to watch. It was clear that he had something else he wanted to say, but he bit it back. James was grateful for that; he didn't want to put off finding Sirius even longer than he'd already done.

After everything else he'd done to find Sirius, the act of grabbing him was pretty easy. Regulus got seen, and that was a bit dicey when it happened, but they managed to get out of there before anyone else could show up. James got Sirius back, and neither of them got hurt in the process. James was going to call it a roaring success.

As much as James wanted to stick Sirius in their flat and hold onto him until they both felt better, he had to bring him to St. Mungo's. There had been so much blood when he found him, more than he'd thought a person could lose and still live...

He shook his head to get rid of the thought. He brought Regulus to their flat first, because he knew that was safe and it's not like he could bring a newly branded traitor of the Death Eaters to a public space. Hell, he wasn't even leaving Sirius there, and Sirius was the one that could really use the constant care.

He brought him in, they did an initial sweep to take care of him, and then James brought him home. They told him not to-- requested, technically, but it was obvious that if they could force him to stay, they would. James knew enough to keep him alive after that, but he'd needed to make sure that there wasn't any internal bleeding or summat.

"'m I home?" Sirius mumbled once he woke up. He had one eye open blearily-- the other was sort of swollen shut. He had a thick cut along one side of his face, near his hair line; it would leave a scar when it healed. Right now, it was covered with a bandage, so there wasn't space between Sirius's swollen eye and the edge of the bandage. James knew that eventually, Sirius would be well enough to complain about it, but it would be far enough in the future that it wouldn't be a problem. They'd both be safe. James would be able to kiss him and tell him that everything was okay, and it would be true.

"Yeah. How do you feel?"

Sirius's throat worked as he tried to wake himself up a bit more. "Alive." He blinked gingerly, his focus roving over to James once he had the presence of mind to do it. "You came for me."

"Of course I did," James said, smiling softly at him. "And before you freak out when you see him, Regulus is here."

It took a minute for that statement to make it through Sirius's addled brain, but when it did, he frowned in confusion. "Why's he here?"

"It's sort of a long story. I just wanted you to know in case you see him." James leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to Sirius's head. He knew that most of Sirius's body was bruised in some way, but hopefully that hadn't hurt him. "Go back to sleep; you need to heal."

"And sleeping's the way to do that?"

"Pretty sure," James said.

Sirius hummed tiredly, eyes already sliding shut.

"I love you," James said, and Sirius made a small noise to show that he'd heard him. He probably tried to say it back, but with everything in his system right now, it was something of a miracle he'd managed to talk as much as he had. James kissed his head again, then left to go check on Regulus. Now that he'd gotten a little bit of sleep, he had to deal with that.

#prongsfoot #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #marauders #regulus black #filled #first war #established relationship #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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