#number one shade bastard ~ Rude

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

// I am weak for Mr. President Sir and his Turks, k. Every one of them can step on me

[duramaters]

Rainbow in the Dark // Chapter 1

Synopsis: You find yourself in the Upside Down, luckily the gang are there to save the day along with a certain fluffy-haired metalhead.

Word Count: 1.5k

You were taking a slow stroll to work that morning, only one more shift and you would have a blissful week off, relaxing by the pool instead of serving rude customers and rewinding tapes. It was 7:30am and you had decided to take a shortcut through the woods at the edge of the trailer park so you didn’t have to rush to get to your shift on time. Keith was opening up for once anyway, the useless bastard. As you approached the edge of the woods you could see the flutter of police tape through the trees and Officer Callahan talking to a photographer. You assumed that there had been yet another accident involving some joyriding jocks but you turned to walk parallel to the road to avoid Phil Callahan’s incessant questioning anyway. One of the trees was looking particularly unhealthy so you made sure to step around it to avoid its oddly oozing roots. You were about two metres away from the road when you felt something snake around your ankle and you lurched forwards, hitting your forehead on a rock as you went down.

*

You came to slowly, blinking the blood out of your eyes and swatting at the tingling feeling on your left arm. When your hand met something cold and fleshy you immediately opened your eyes and looked down to see a large, winged creature. You screamed when you realised that the tingling feeling was its teeth piercing your skin. Without thinking, you reached out with your right hand and grabbed a nearby fallen branch, swinging it wildly at the disgusting creature. A few hard whacks and it released your arm and scuttled backwards before latching its tail around your wrist. You stood, despite the dizziness threatening to take hold, and launched the branch at the bat-like animal. A red mist descended over you and you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t actual blood in your eyes. You bludgeoned the creature with wild abandon, only stopping when the pile of mush at your feet stopped twitching.  Falling to the floor when your heart rate finally eased up, you pulled your legs up to your chest and tried to catch your breath. As you looked around you realised that night must have fallen since the sky was an ominous shade of black and darkness surrounded you. Particles filtered through the air and the ashy substance coated your hair and face. Probably a fire out at one of the farms, you thought. God knew how long you had been unconscious for but you figured Callahan and the reporter would be long gone by now so you stayed put and took stock of your injuries. You delicately touched the tender spot above your eye and you felt the deep gash that split your eyebrow, thinking that at least you’d have a cool scar if you didn’t bleed out and die. Your aching wrist drew your eyes to the bite wounds on your arm and the deep purple bruising rapidly appearing below them where the creature’s tail had latched on to your arm.

“Fucking ow.” You groaned as you prodded at the bites. The creature had really done a number on you with its teeth. “You better not have rabies you bastard.” You grimaced, kicking out at the pile of flesh that had attacked you. Your energy was beginning to drain significantly now the adrenaline had worn off and you didn’t have it in you to walk back to the trailer park yet, so you leant back against a tree and closed your eyes. Just five minutes and I’ll head back and get a lift to the Sherriff’s station, you thought to yourself before slipping into unconsciousness.

*

You must have fallen onto your side as you slept because you woke up with leaves and dirt tangled into you hair and your arm going numb beneath you. You shot up as soon as you realised you were still out in the woods, half expecting to find another bat munching on your legs or something. Moving so fast made your head go fuzzy and you slumped back against the tree for support. Coming from somewhere to your right you could hear voices approaching, they were still a fair way off since you were still pretty deep in the woods, but it was promising at least. You straightened up and slowly began the trek back to the trailer park, taking care to avoid the vines that you were now only just noticing squirming beneath you. Everything was off and your stomach turned when you reached the treeline and saw that Forest Hills Trailer Park had been engulfed by thick tendrils and the trailers looked completely dilapidated. Well, more dilapidated than usual. You were distracted from your confusion by the approach of four people on bikes, they hadn’t seen you and they seemed to be headed towards one trailer in particular. You could have sworn that was Nancy Wheeler, but you struggled to see the group through the haze of ash and darkness. They entered the trailer one by one and you realised that they were the only people you had seen since you woke up alone in the dark. A chittering above you alerted you to the presence of even more bat things perched on the streetlights above you. Panic rose in your chest and you sprinted out of the woods towards the trailer.

You hunched over, putting your hands on your knees to catch you breath before knocking on the trailer door, looking behind you at the bats to make sure they hadn’t followed you.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!” you heard one of the group shout from inside the trailer, followed by lowered voices from the rest of the party.

“What if its Vecna?” Someone whispered.

“I don’t think he would knock, Steve.” That was Robin! You recognised your friends sarcastic tone anywhere! You wiped the ash off your face and knocked again, calling out Robin and Steve’s names hesitantly.

Someone gasped and the door was wrenched open with a wide eyed Robin Buckley standing on the other side, flanked by Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler. Behind Nancy stood a tall boy with fluffy hair you vaguely recognised as Eddie Munson. You seemed to remember him looking a little different, it must have been the hair, you would have definitely remembered hair like that.

“Erm hello!” Robin waved a hand directly in front of your face to grab your attention from Eddie, lingering at the back of the group. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

You turned back to your friend and shook your head. “I was on my way to work this morning and I fell, must have knocked myself out good and proper because it was dark by the time I woke up.”

The group in front of you all shared a look and you immediately knew something was wrong.

“Oh boy, ain’t this fun!” You heard Eddie mutter sarcastically from somewhere behind Nancy. Chittering behind you had to spinning round, mentally preparing to defend yourself against those flying demons. Suddenly, you were yanked backwards into the trailer by your shirt collar, Steve’s arms stopping you from stumbling as Robin shut the door behind you.

“Those are not the kind of bats I’m used to.” You muttered.

“Tell me about it.” Said Steve pointing towards the bandage around his torso and the mark around his neck.

“Those tails, am I right?” You laughed, holding up your wrist. If you didn’t laugh, you’d definitely cry right now. More so at the sheer relief of finding your friends than the abject horror of your current situation since you had absolutely no clue what was going on. Robin grabbed at your arm to check out the bites, they were looking pretty damn disgusting now and had started to ooze black goo while you were unconscious.

“Hey, weren’t you supposed to have the week off? What day is it?” Robin questioned you, looking between Steve’s apparently fresh wounds and your necrotic flesh.

“Well I was heading to work on the 23rd, but I’ve passed out twice since then so I’m assuming its like the 24th now, right?”

“Nope, you must have been really out of it, it’s the 26th today, right Nance?” Nancy nodded and you winced.

Steve nudged your shoulder lightly, “any signs of rabies yet?” He whispered, you just stared at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape. You hadn’t had chance to think about your wounds being infected and Steve could see the panic taking hold on your face. “Woah, hey, just kidding!” He raised his hands and backed off slightly.

Suddenly a soft squelching came from the ceiling above your heads and you looked up to see a gooey gash being torn open by something. Vomit filled your mouth at the sight and sound of the thing and you quickly ran past Nancy to heave into the kitchen sink.  Only bile came up, which made sense considering you had been out cold for almost four days with nothing to eat. The sound of Steve’s best pal Dustin Henderson distracted you from your retching, but the sight of Dustin and his friends standing above you through the gash in the ceiling, upside down, was enough to send you crashing to the floor with another dizzy spell.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Waffle House AU

It’s never mentioned but for clarification, Jaskier has a beard in this. Anyway, @officerjennie, @all-hail-the-witcher, and myself shouldn’t be left alone together because then things like this happen. I love you both.

Geraskier, rated t, modern au and Geralt's still a witcher

-

The first time the man showed up, it was nearing three in the morning. The Waffle House Jaskier worked overnights in was as packed as ever, that’s to say there were two regulars sitting at the bar and a hoard of bugs flying around the place.

The man in question was dressed head to toe in some sort of armor that looked like it belonged in a steampunk cosplay and covered in an odd black substance that looked sticky. Even from across the restaurant, Jaskier could already smell the foul odor rolling off the man in waves. It was so strong Jaskier was surprised that he couldn’t see it.

Walking to the other end of the bar, closest to the corner table the man had seated himself it, Jaskier shouted at him, unwilling to get any closer than necessary, “What do you want to drink?”

“Coffee,” the man’s voice was deep, more a growl than anything else.

Wrinkling his nose in displeasure, Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and made his way over to the table, singing loudly to himself as he did so. Jaskier’s voice bounced off the shitty interior of the Waffle House, making it echo in a most unpleasant way. Jaskier switched to humming an upbeat tune as he approached the man at the table and began pouring the coffee.

“So, what do you think of my singing?” It was a question Jaskier asked all of his late-night customers. Their answers would determine whether he would keep them as regulars or do his best to run them off.  And his best never failed.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier frowned at the non-answer, “Come now, three words or less.”

“Filling-less pie.”

Spluttering, Jaskier pointed at the man angrily, “You know nothing about music. What do you want to order?”

“Hashbrowns. Smothered and covered.”

Spinning on his heal, Jaskier stalked away from the man without responding, instead muttering angrily under his breath, “I’ll show you filling-less, you bastard.”

-

Dropping the plate in front of the man, Jaskier watched as the rubbery meal bounced uncomfortably off the plate before landing back on it, somehow looking even worse than it already had.

“What is this?” The man’s voice held no inflection and Jaskier had no way of knowing the man’s feelings as he looked at the pathetic plate in front of him.

“Your food.”

“I ordered hashbrowns.”

Jaskier had to hold in his gasp as the man’s eyes, the most unusual golden shade, met his.

“Well, this is what I’ve brought you.”

The man looked back at the plate, flipping open the joke of an omelet, revealing that it was just eggs cooked in a pan and folded over, “There’s nothing inside. What kind of omelet doesn’t have anything in it?”

“Oh? Do you not like filling-less omelets? What a shame.”

Jaskier stalked back to the bar and took a seat by the regsiter, pulling his book back out and pretending to read it while he watched the man from the corner of his eye. He didn’t even look back to Jaskier’s direction, instead staring grumpily at the eggs in front of him before beginning to eat them.

The man ate quickly and before long he was walking over to the register where Jaskier sat, throwing a wad of bills down on the counter, “Keep the change.”

“I will.”

“You’re a shitty waiter.”

“You smell bad.”

And that, Jaskier assumed, would be that and he would never have to see the weird, smelly, strangely attractive man ever again.

-

The next night when the man arrived again, this time covered in a weird flaky green substance, Jaskier couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously. People didn’t typically return after Jaskier provided intentionally bad service, at least not if they were sober and of a sound mind. Jaskier couldn’t confidently say this man’s mind was sound, although he did seem sober.

Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and stalked over to the corner table. He filled the cup halfway.

“More hashbrowns?”

The man wrinkled his brow, a frown on his face “Yes.”

Wandering back to the kitchen, in no rush, Jaskier stuck his head back in to look at the cook, “More eggs like last night. And can you add something weird to them this time?”

The line cook saluted him before reaching up to grab something off the shelf above his head. Jaskier winced, he wasn’t sure what exactly was in the mixtures of spices that were kept up there, but he had never had a good experience with them, that was for certain. This would for sure run off the weird tone-deaf man for good. The cook was done in no time and Jaskier walked the plate over to the man in the corner, throwing it down on the table like he had the night before.

He did no more than blink in surprise when the table collapsed. Jaskier wasn’t sure exactly why the table collapsed, the plate and shitty eggs didn’t weigh very much, and he hadn’t thrown the plate down particularly hard. But, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he has ever seen in the Waffle House, so he simply caught the man’s eye and shrugged, turning and walking back to his seat.

He watched amusedly as the man juggled his plate off the table before propping it up awkwardly and moving seats. That hadn’t been part of Jaskier’s plan, but it would certainly work in his favor.

-

Jaskier was shocked when the man walked in for a third night in a row. The normally difficult to fluster waiter was very aware that his face was the very picture of surprise. Luckily, the man didn’t even look at him as he walked over to the table in the corner. He shook it a bit before sitting down, presumably making sure it wouldn’t collapse today. To be honest, Jaskier wasn’t overly confident it was any sturdier now, but it did appear that someone on day shift had at least made it look as though it was fixed.

Grabbing the coffee pot and a mug, Jaskier couldn’t help but hope this wouldn’t truly become a ritual. He didn’t want a man in his Waffle House if said man couldn’t tell that Jaskier’s singing was nothing short of marvelous.

“Hashbrowns again?”

The man nodded, staring out of the window rather than looking at Jaskier. He wasn’t in the weird steampunk armor anymore, this time wearing a soft black tee shirt and worn in jeans. It also seemed he had managed to find a bath and was able to get all of the weird grimy things off of him.

He really was quite attractive all cleaned up, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice.

“What’s your name?”

The man turned to look at him, “Geralt.”

Walking over to the kitchen, Jaskier put in the order and sat back down by the register to wait. It wasn’t long before One-Eyed Larry grunted at him from his usual seat at the bar, “Napkin holders on fire, kid.”

Looking over at the table in front of Geralt’s, Jaskier saw that the napkin holder was, indeed, on fire. Sighing and getting a glass of water, Jaskier walked over to the table and poured the glass on it, drenching it thoroughly. Waving away the smoke, Jaskier turned the napkin holder around, making sure the fire was completely out, before putting it back in its place and taking his seat again.

Geralt’s golden eyes followed him curiously the whole time.

If the man was going to be spending his nights here, then he would need to get used to these kinds of things. It was three in the morning in a Waffle House, weirder would happen.

A few minutes more passed before there was a bell ding from the kitchen, signaling that Geralt’s food was ready. Jaskier tossed the plate on the table as was tradition, smirking when he saw the surprise flit across the man’s face. No doubt he hadn’t been expecting to receive hashbrowns, smother and covered as he had first asked for two nights prior.

What could Jaskier say, he was rather weak for a pretty face. Even if was a rude one.

“If you agree that my singing is spectacular, I’ll let you take me out for coffee sometime.”

“Good coffee or this shit?” Geralt gestured to the mug in front of him.

Jaskier scoffed, “You think I would ever eat or drink anything from here?”

“That’s comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Jaskier sat a notepad and pen on the table, “Leave your number and I’ll call you tomorrow to cash in.”

Later when Jaskier cleared the table, he couldn’t help but smile at the neat handwriting on the notepad.

Looking forward to hearing from you. You should get your napkin holder checked out.

-

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[huilian]

Eugenides, mathematics, and the people that he loves.

or, 12 times mathematics was involved, in some way or another, between our favorite bastard of a king and the people he has made a family out of.

or, that math degree gotta get used  somehow

2.

“If you’re going to lurk from the ceiling, Eugenides, you might as well come down and help me,” Eddis said.

In front of her was a string of numbers that should have represented the entirety of her country’s taxes, but none of it made sense to her. She knew all the basics, of course, but they didn’t expect her to be queen, and by the time she was her father’s heir, she was too busy trying to learn everything else that the thought of learning the intricate system of taxes did not even cross her mind.

She was regretting that now.

“Well, it seemed rude to interrupt your brooding session, Your Majesty,” Eugenides said, landing next to her without so much as a whisper of a sound.

She glared at him in the empty room she was in, having already sent everybody out. Her advisors meant well, but they kept talking over each other in their eagerness to explain this to her, and instead of helping her understand it, that just made the numbers seem even more confounding.

“I was not brooding,” she said.

“If you say so, My Queen,” Eugenides grinned. “Now, do you want me to explain this to you, or was this covered in one of the few classes you did not skip?”

She glared again, but she pointed at one entry, embarrassingly high on the list, and said, “Start there.”

8.

“Remind me, Costis,” the King said, “your father is a farmer, is he not?”

Costis blocked the King’s attack— he still insisted on sparring with Costis every morning, even though he now had an abundance of sparring partners to choose from— and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King hummed, and Costis pushed forward, trying to get at least one hit on Eugenides when he was still distracted. Instead of reaching his target, however, his training sword flew out of his hands and he found himself with a wooden sword placed gently upon his chest.

“My win, I believe, Costis,” the King said with a smile. “I think that’s enough for the day.”

“Your Majesty?” Costis asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Costis,” Eugenides replied. “Come, sit in the shade next to me, and tell me about your father’s farm. The sun is much too hot today.”

Costis frowned, but he knew already that the best way to deal with his King when he was like this was to indulge his whims. So he took the King’s sword, retrieved his own, placed them where the rest of the practice swords were located, and sat down next to Eugenides, answering all of his questions about the way his father determines how much seeds he should buy and how many people he should hire.

*

Teleus picked up a piece of paper that was not there the last time he left his office, locked with the only key on his own belt.

The paper was filled with numbers and equations from one end to the other, and after skimming it quickly, Teleus can see that it contained the beginnings of a plan on how to sufficiently reduce the Guard with minimal compromises on its function.

Sighing, he picked up the paper and a flagon of wine, and made his way to Relius’s quarters. It would not help the headache that’s already starting to form, but at the very least he would have someone to talk to. And to share wine with.

3.

 Sophos,

 I think I caught where that extra one half is coming from. Tell the Magus that it is his fault that this equation does not balance. That extra one half is supposed to be there. You can find the proof attached in this letter.

 That said, are you getting better at this quicker than I expected, o Useless the Younger? I should write the Magus to tell him to provide you with harder problems to solve. You have not asked for my help even once in the last few weeks.

 Your friend, Eugenides

10.

“What do you think of that new proof from the continent? That you can find distance by finding an area?”

A few short years ago, Kamet would have jumped in shock. Nowadays, however, he was far too used to Eugenides’s antics to be truly shocked.

“I think, Your Majesty,” he said, “that my topic of choice is poetry and history, and that any discussion about mathematics is better done with your youngest attendant. The gods know he could focus on little else.”

Eugenides waved his hand in such a manner as to fully frustrate Kamet. Truly, only Attolis could manage to cause such contempt in such a little movement.

“I will ask him later, when I want my argument ripped to shreds. But I want to know your thoughts, Kamet.”

“My interest in mathematics is in bookkeeping only, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, don’t play coy with me,” Eugenides replied. “I know you better than that.”

Kamet narrowed his eyes, but the arguments are already starting to form in his head. He briefly lamented the fact that he would not be able to finish his translation work today, because from previous experience, once this discussion started, it will not stop until the bell rings for dinner time, and he has promised Costis that he would not work in candlelight only for the health of his eyes.

Eugenides grinned, like he knew that he had already won this battle. He probably did, that little bastard of a king.

“Fine,” Kamet sighed. “I think that it’s plausible. If the speed is constant, then it’s just a rectangle, is it not? We can then infer that-”

They talked long after that, discussing the merits and demerits of the idea. Eugenides disappeared just before the bell rang to call the court for dinner, however, as if he knew Kamet’s thoughts from earlier and decided to spite him even more.

Kamet couldn’t even be mad about it.

7.

“Do you not believe my story, Relius?” the king asked.

A mere month ago, Relius would not have deigned to answer. A mere month ago, Eugenides would not have told the story. But now, in the time when only men plagued with nightmares are awake, Relius said, “I somehow doubt you managed to calculate the volume of that bath in such a short time, Your Majesty.”

Eugenides clicked his tongue, and said, “It’s just a cylinder. Or close enough to one that it doesn’t matter.” He leaned back on his chair and asked, “Surely you know how to do that quickly enough?”

“I confess I have not practiced that in a long time, Your Majesty.”

“More important matters in your mind?”

Court intrigues and spy networks. Letters written in codes that only he can break and knowledge that he has long since imparted to his queen. None of that matters anymore, now.

Instead of answering the question, Relius said, “Maybe I’ll learn how to do that. After.”

“Maybe,” the king replied. He pulls on the blanket covering Relius’s body, adjusting it so that all of Relius’s limbs are properly underneath it. All four of them.

They didn’t talk again for the rest of the night.

9.

“Two of your trousers are currently being mended, Your Majesty, and three more are in the wash, so the choice tonight is between the blue pair or the deep brown pair. I’ve chosen the blue, and paired it with that coat you just commissioned,” Philologos explained.

“That’s good, Philologos, thank you,” the king said, absentmindedly pulling his undershirt off. He unclasped the cuff of his hook, handed them to Hilarion, who was standing next to him, and entered the bath.

Seeing that everything is well under control, Philologos shared a nod with Hilarion, and then turned to go retrieve the aforementioned trousers and coat.

Before he could do that, however, the king called out, “Philologos?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he answered.

“Two added with three added with two does not make eight,” Attolis said.

Philologos blinked, baffled with the apparent absurdity of the statement. He was just about to chalk it up to Eugenides being Eugenides and simply agree with the king, before he realized what was going on.

He blanched.

“I…” he stammered, unsure as to what to say, when Hilarion also realized what was going on and laughed.

“I thought your education was better than that, Philo,” Hilarion teased. “What would your father say, if he knew that his only heir forgot how to do basic addition?”

“I…” Philologos stammered again, trying to find words to defend his honor, but the king interjected before he could do that.

“I am honored, Philologos, that you have chosen to emulate me in this.” Eugenides grinned, before continuing, “Though I wish that you would have chosen something better than my trousers to steal.”

Behind him, Philologos could hear the rest of the attendants snickering, and that was enough fuel to make him shout, “Four! Four of your trousers are in the wash, Your Majesty!” without even considering what that outburst would cost him. He could feel his cheeks turning red, and he gritted out, “Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and retrieve your clothes for dinner.”

He turned around, fully intending to block any and all comments, when the king called out, “Don’t steal this pair too, Philologos!” adding fuel to the laughter from the attendants.

But when he handed the trousers to the king after he had finished his bath, Eugenides pulled him close, and whispered, “If you’re going to steal any of my trousers, take the red one.” A burst of hot air hit Philologos’s ear, the tell-tale sign that the king is laughing. “The embroidery is in gold.”

4.

“Eight ships,” the Eddisian Minister of War said to his son. “Eight ships, and you asked for?”

“Twenty men,” Eugenides replied.

“That’s,” he paused for a moment to recheck his calculations, “two men a ship.” He looked at Eugenides, frowned, and said, “That’s not possible.”

“I didn’t propose to burn all eight of them. Four,” Eugenides said, lifting up his fingers. “Maybe even five if we’re lucky,” he lifted up the one finger he had left.

His father very deliberately did not look at Eugenides’s other arm, which has no more fingers to lift up. “That is still five men a ship, Eugenides,” he said, “without any scouts or people standing guard.”

Eugenides simply shrugged, and replied, “I can do it.”

A year ago, he could. The Minister of War frowned even deeper, and said, “Thirty. Twenty for your plan, five for scouts, four to stand guard, and one just in case.”

Eugenides’s mouth curled in a discontented line, but he sighed and said, “Alright. Thirty it is.”

6.

“It was the type of wheat,” Eugenides mumbled next to Irene’s ear.

They were tangled together on top of her sheets, their legs twined together and their heads pillowed on the same bed. Wheat was the furthest thing from Irene’s mind, but still, she hummed a note to tell him to go on.

“Artadorus,” her husband continued, his eyes still half closed. “He reported a different kind of wheat than what he planted. You charge a different rate for the different kinds.”

Irene hummed again. She would have found out, eventually. She has many people in her tax offices employed to do just that. One of them would have found out the deceit and brought it to her or Relius, and the fraud would have been exposed, just the same. It would not have been as effective, but it would still have reached her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that it was not just her who charges a different rate for the taxes, but one glance at his face caused her to remain silent. They could be kings and queens again in the morning, but tonight, they are simply husband and wife.

She rolled over to face him, and said, “Tell me again in the morning,” before kissing him.

He did not say anything about wheat again until the sunrise entered the windows of the room.

11.

"I think a triangle only has three sides, Pheris, and not four," Eugenides said, materializing somewhere behind the young Baron Erondites.

For his part, the Baron Erondites looked at the work he was completing, saw the mistake, and started signing things that he had decided were curses.

Attolis laughed.

"Surely that is not as debilitating as that?"

I would have to redo this whole section, Pheris signed with one hand. The other hand was already scratching things out on his parchment with a speed that truly belies his frustration.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Eugenides said, sitting next to him. "You would only have to change…"

A pause, and then Annux of the Hephestian Peninsula hissed out something that would truly shock all the new ambassadors from the Continent and made his wife glare at him for saying that in front of the children. "You need to redo the whole section," Eugenides deadpanned.

Pheris just glared at him, and scratched out, 'I told you so', somewhere in the midst of the mess his parchment was becoming.

12.

"Why do we have to learn this?" the Princess of Attolia complained.

Her brother, also looking dejectedly at his own work, nodded in agreement.

"Because, my little thief," her father said, "one day, you might find yourself on a ledge too far for you to jump, and you have to calculate how many pics you can trust your own skill and how many you have to trust our god for." He turned to his son, and continued, "And you, my future king, will one day have someone telling you that seventeen horses each carrying three sacks of grain somehow amounts to having forty sacks, and you will have to disabuse them of that notion immediately."

The twins looked at each other for a moment, before Hector said, “But we knew how to do that already. That is simple geometry and arithmetics. This is not that.”

Eugenia nodded, and added, “Even Mother said that her own education did not come this far. So, Father, why do we have to learn this?”

Eugenides blinked, before chuckling softly. “I see,” he said, after a while. He sat atop the table that the twins were using to write, and continued, “It seems I have done you both a disservice.

“I ask you to learn this because no matter who you are, whether you are an okloi or a watchmaker or a king or a thief, or perhaps, even the gods themselves, the logic of mathematics will still be the same. There are no lies in mathematics, nor are there deceit.”

He paused there, staring at things that neither Eugenia nor Hector could see. Seconds passed in silence, and Eugenia opened her mouth, ready to bring their father back to the present with a remark, but before she could do that, Hector jabbed her in the stomach and shook his head.

Their patience was rewarded when Eugenides sighed and propelled himself from the table he was sitting on. “But you are right,” he said, plucking the pens from their hands, Eugenia’s first, and then Hector’s. “Both of you certainly already have the skills needed to fulfill your duties. Anything more will just be a fool’s errand.” He jumped up the table again, this time landing feet first and facing them, half-bowing with the pens he took from them just earlier offered in his hand.

“A fool’s errand,” he said, eyes twinkling, “or a quest for the wisest of men.”

Eugenia and Hector stared at their father, and then at each other, before taking the pens from their father’s hand.

5.

 In your last letter to me, you told me that a man’s worth is what he is, added to what he does. Then tell me this, Magus. What if that is not enough?

 Gen, I thought your knowledge of mathematics is better than that.

 If addition is not enough, then try multiplication.

1.

“Ah, no,” Stenides said, looking over Gen’s shoulder. “That three should not be there.”

“No?”

“No,” Stenides answered, pointing at the calculations in front of his little brother. “See how you didn’t carry over that one,” he moved his fingers to the next number, “and so this one should have been four.”

Eugenides looked at the paper in silence for a moment, and then let out a string of curses that he definitely should not have heard yet, let alone repeat. But of course, Gen being Gen, he has, and Sten couldn’t help but chuckle along.

After he finished his string of curses, Gen moaned, “I’m never going to get it.”

“I thought you’re going to be the next Thief of Eddis?” Stenides teased. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even do additions?”

His little brother looked at him with murder in his eyes, however, and Sten quickly raised his hands in surrender. Eugenides’s revenge was already legendary, no matter how young the boy still was.

“I joke, I joke!” he said. Then, he smiled down at his little brother, ruffled his hair, and said, “You’ll get it. I know you would.”

[hairycooterlips69]

Service with a Smile

Howdy y’all, I had a wild hair up my ass to write a fanfic. It’s my first one, be gentle 😅 I’m obsessed with Hawks so I hope I do him proud. Also I was gonna name it Kentucky Fried Fuckin but i don’t wanna be ganked by the Colonel so... Takami Keigo x Fem!Reader

word count : 4k

[ (nsfw 18+) ]  

Warnings: edging, fingering, soft dom/sub, oral sex, nipple play, anal play, choking, unprotected sex

yuhh, get into it~

_______________________________________________

Tonight’s shift couldn’t get any worse.

As you glance at your watch, you internally groan after realizing that you had been on your feet for the last 8 hours stuck behind a cash register. Between some brat spilling juice not once, but twice, on the floor you mopped, a woman berating you for not having any more barbeque sauce, and your closing partner quitting the night before, you were at your wit’s end. Working at a fried chicken shop wasn’t the most glamourous place of employment, but it paid the bills and your quirk did come in handy. Your empathic quirk allowed you to ease the negative emotions of others with the cost of others’ emotions somewhat rubbing off on you. While customers left satisfied and in good spirits, most nights you were left feeling exhausted and impatient. Well at least there’s only 5 minutes until close, you contemplate, mentally preparing yourself to clean and lock up the store.

Lost in thoughts, you hear a soft jingling and the thudding of boots against the tiled floor. “Heyo~, are you guys still open?” The first thing you notice about this customer is his ruby-red wings. Upon further inspection, you see that he is wearing a black body suit, beige pants, and a fur-trimmed coat accessorized with protective glasses and headgear, along with some pompous, feathery hairstyle. You felt as if this person was familiar. I mean, how could you not recognize a guy with massive birdlike appendages? You must have seen him somewhere, maybe around the city or at a bar. Or maybe you’ve seen him at the park, or maybe at the –

“Uh, hello. Earth to Y/N. Sorry for coming in so late, but I’ve been patrolling the area tonight and it seemed like this place was still open. I get pretty hungry around this time. Will you be able to serve me?” You snap back to reality, your cheeks tinged in embarrassment. “How do you know my name? D-do I know you?” you stammer. “Well, I read your nametag. But if you want to get to know me, you most certainly can, kid.” he quipped cheekily. What an ass. Your embarrassment quickly turned into annoyance, but you swallowed your pride and politely responded “yes sir, we are still open. How can I help you?” “Sir? I like that. Well, you can start me off with a four-piece meal and a soda, and after I’m done eating you can help me by giving me your number.” You audibly gasp, astounded at the audacity of this honey-haired jerk. Without a word, you quickly turned on your heels to put together the combo and get away from this man.

He must have noticed how upset you were as you placed his food on the counter rather abruptly. His expression softened from a cocky grin to a repentant half-smile. “I apologize if I’ve offended you. It’s just that I get pretty bored protecting the city and lurking on top of buildings. It’s nice to have some human contact, even if it’s teasing the cutie working at a fried chicken shop.” If you weren’t already flustered before, your face blushed crimson red yet again. Without the arrogance, you notice that this stranger was cherubically handsome, donning bushy blonde eyebrows, golden, catlike eyes, and the beginnings of scruffy facial hair. He must have been around your age or maybe a couple years older. You could tell that he was in almost, if not completely, perfect physical shape by the way his body suit hugged his chest. You hated to admit it, but his flirting was actually coaxing you out of your previously terrible mood. You manually willed yourself to reply, retorting “yeah, well don’t vigilantes like you have anything better to do than harassing a stranger while at work?” “Ouch, kid. A vigilante? Try number-two Pro Hero. I guess that’s what I get for coming in so late and giving you a tough time. I go by Hawks, but the name is Takami Keigo. But, I prefer if you call me yours for the evening.” At this point you couldn’t help but laugh at his boldness. After catching your breath, you responded “Alright Big Bird, enjoy your meal. Just please don’t leave too much of a mess, I already have to wait for you to finish so I can clean up and get the hell out of here.” For a split second, you saw his face twitch in an unreadable manner before his switching back to seasoned professionality. “Ah, of course. I won’t be too long. Thank you again y/n for the food. I’m sure it will be delicious.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the table and sat down, wings folding flat to his back as he prepared to dig in. You watched him as he removed his gloves, finger by finger. You couldn’t help but notice how long and graceful they were. Carefully, he teared apart slivers of each piece of chicken before bringing the greasy bits to his mouth. As he prepared his food, he would often glance up at you only to avoid your eyes and look back down at his food. What was with those looks he keeps giving me? It was almost like I angered him, or got offended by what I said, you mused to yourself. I’ll just activate my quirk. That way if he’s pissed, I can smooth things over. I don’t need to be bitched at by the manager again. With slight concentration, you activated your quirk. Suddenly you could feel what he felt – hunger. Besides this, there was another feeling. Similar to hunger, combined with a dull, growing ache. It almost felt like – yearning? Or something more? Once realizing the feeling, you quickly ducked your head. This bastard was aroused! You felt conflicted. He must be feeling confused by what I said to him, but also… I think he enjoyed it? You begin to feel a warming sensation in your midsection. Damnit, I think he is aroused. I’m starting to feel it too. Why would a Pro Hero be interested in someone who’s been covered in grease and sweat all day? You start to feel a little self-conscious at this point. There was no way that he couldn’t smell all the herbs and spices permeating off your overworked body. I smell like the deep fryer and I’m starting to thirst over some big-shot hero. I need to distract myself. “Hey, Hawks? If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna start cleaning up a bit.”

Hawks barely glanced at you as he responded “sure kid, do what you need to do. Don’t stop on my account.” You grabbed a rag and started to wipe down the tables with practiced ease. You closed on most nights and were able to get the store tidied up within 30 minutes or so. This night was different though, and you were somewhat nervous doing your nightly tasks as Hawks observed your work. When your back was turned, you could still sense eyes on you along with the steadily growing ache emitting from the Pro Hero and your own growing desire welling from within your body. Shit, the fact that he’s turned on right now is insane. I guess it is a compliment, he’s hot as hell. I actually kind of like it, you admitted to yourself. This realization combined with your quirk stirred up your own desire of being touched, and the growing warmth of arousal spread through your body like a slow burn. The more you attempted to distract yourself by sweeping the floor and wiping down tables, the deeper this yearning grew. Your watch indicated that it was definitely past the time you normally locked up and left. Fuck, I’m super turned on. What’s with him? And what’s up with me? You decide that you would quash this feeling right then and there. “Hey Hawks, are you okay? Cuz it’s getting late and I-“

As you turned around, you saw the Pro Hero had been standing a few feet behind you, wings fluttering rhythmically to the beat of his pulse. “You know, no one’s ever insulted me like that before and yeah, kid, it was cute, but it was also incredibly rude.” Before you could react, Hawks reached up and grazed the left side of your face with his right hand. “Now, how are you going to make it up to me?”

“I, uh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just-“

“Just what?”

“I can feel you. I mean, I can feel what you feel, that’s my quirk and obviously you didn’t know that but I’m sensing that you’re-“

“You can sense how I feel, at this moment? Tell me, kid. Let’s see how accurate that quirk of yours is.”

“Well, um… earlier after I called you Big Bird and I got a vibe that you were annoyed but also intrigued? Also, uh – when you were eating and I was cleaning up, I kind of got the feeling that you were interested… in that way.”

“’That way?’ And what way would that be?”

You could tell that Hawks took pleasure in watching you squirm and shade brighter than his pinions. “That way. You know, an… intimate sort of feeling.”

You flinched, expecting Hawks to jerk his hand away from you and walk off in disgust. Instead, a sly, borderline wicked grin began to spread across his face. “Now that’s an impressive quirk. What if I told you that you were correct in that I am turned on by you? In fact, the more I watch you, the more I want to touch every single part of your body and own that delicious ass of yours.” He stepped closer, inches away from you, and began to trail his hand from your cheek down to the nape of your neck. You barely registered Hawks’ wings spreading out and almost immersing the two of you. “You can feel what I feel, right? So that can only mean that you want me almost as badly as I want you. If you let me, I’ll be more than happy to satisfy us both.” Hawks must have misread the look of disbelief slapped across your face. He backtracked, “Was that too far, kid?”

“N-no. Keep going. I want this.”

You had barely finished your sentence when the pro hero lunged forward, pushing his lips against your own with the urgency of a rabid animal. You quickly returned his kiss with equal hunger, pressing back against the soft, inviting landscape of his mouth. Lip-locked and frenzied, you felt him slowly run his hands down the side of your body and onto your hips, grasping them so intensely you felt his nails dig into your skin sending small shocks of pleasure directly to your core. You unconsciously leaned your hips toward, your body responding to the sensation building within your intimacy. You felt the pressure of Hawks’ reciprocating excitement against your leg as he moaned at the growing constraint between his manhood and his uniform.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re up for this? Because I can’t hold back much longer. I would cut my wings off just to flip you onto that counter and ram the shit out of you until you beg me to stop making you cum.”

“Hawks-“

“Call me Keigo, fuck. Call me Keigo, I want to hear you scream my name at the top of your lungs.”

“Keigo, shut the hell up and do what you said. Please just fuck me already.”

He practically flung you across the store, wrapping you up in a tight, muscular embrace with his vibrant, elongated wings beating erratically. Hawks placed you on the counter rather gently, attaching himself to your mouth again. You could feel his tongue softly graze your bottom lip in an attempt to explore you. Ever so slightly, your lips parted to meet his tongue in a battle for dominance. Hawks eventually overpowered you, and you could slightly taste the remnants of his meal as he ran his tongue vertically against the sinew of your cheeks. While Hawks commanded your mouth, you used your knee to tease and stimulate his aching member, pre-cum threatening to bleed through his pants. “Hrrnh, y/n. My cock is practically begging for you,” he groaned. You responded, “for someone who wants to fuck me senseless, you sure are taking your sweet ass time.”

Charged by your smart remark, he pulled away from your lips to focus on his next mission: undressing you before you could even open your mouth to land some other sarcastic comment. With surprising dexterity, he peeled off your shirt and pants while you worked on unclasping your bra. Keigo paused to admire your bare chest. “God y/n, as if you weren’t already looking like a five-course meal. I just might have to devour you until there’s nothing left.” Before you could come up with another response, Hawks enveloped his eager mouth to your right nipple while reaching to attend to your left bud. He began to suck rhythmically as if attuned to your wildly beating heart, lazily switching from massaging your left nipple between his graceful fingers to rubbing it in a clockwise fashion. You groaned animalistically into his ear, clenching your vaginal muscles and grinding your heat against the corner of the counter in desperation.

“Keigo, stop fucking teasing me. Please do something, you’re driving me crazy.”

Obliging, Hawks abandoned your left nipple to pull your drenched panties to one side of your private area. “Jeez, kid, you’re practically drooling down there. I wonder how wet for me you’ll get once I stick my fingers inside that pretty pussy.” Something about the snarky comment sent you over the edge. It was as if something inside your brain snapped, and the need to control this bird-brained asshole overtook you. Oh, I’m gonna give this fucker a show, you mused. You grabbed Keigo’s wrist and shoved it directly inside your clenched hole, violently abusing his fingers akin to a human dildo to escalate your pleasure. Hawks’ mouth practically dropped to the floor, his gaze shifting frantically from you using him as your fuck toy to the canvas of your naked body.

“Holy fuck, kid. That’s so goddamn hot. You really are such a slut, fucking yourself with my own hand. God, y/n. I want to be inside you so fucking bad.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you huffed. “Now take off your clothes while you watch me play with myself.”

You grabbed his wrist again to remove his fingers, replacing them with your own to appease the gnawing desire. “Don’t look away from me, Keigo. Make direct eye contact, or I’ll kick your ass out of here with nothing but a pulsating cock and a hope for a wet dream about me.” Hawks quickly stripped down to his boxers, awaiting eagerly for your next demand. You could see the evident staining where the fabric was constricting his shaft. “Such an obedient pigeon,” you purred. “Now stroke your cock slowly like the good little bird boy you are.” His right hand began to slip down the band of his tightening boxers. “Ah-ah-ah, I said to take off your clothes. I didn’t say you could take it out and touch it. Now I’ll allow you to jerk it outside of your boxers.”

“Fuck, kid. Who the hell are you talking to like that? I don’t like that bratty ass attitude you have. I may just have to sh-”

You interrupted his monologue to jump off the counter and engulf his clothed manhood as deeply as your throat would allow. Even as it threatened to touch the back of your esophagus, you could see that you weren’t able to completely fill it with your mouth. You worked quickly to moisten his stiff cock. He moaned and grabbed the base of your head as you proceeded to bob back and forth, driving him insane by your refusal to let him be in charge.

“You filthy whore. If you’re gonna suck me off at least do it properly.” Hawks was growing feral with desire to feel your slobbery mouth on the skin of his member. “I guess you have been a good birdie. Here, I’ll make this easier for you.” You removed him from your mouth long enough to yank down his underwear and return to his massive source of heat. You grabbed Keigo’s cockhead and placed it strategically between your lips, outlining the contours of your mouth and using his wetness as a lipliner. “Fuuuck, you are so good, so good to me baby bird,” he whimpered pathetically before taking him inside your mouth once again. You continued to pleasure him with an absurd amount of oral pressure and saliva which began to leak out the corners of your lips. After a couple minutes of sucking him off, you felt him start to quiver. “Ungh, y/n. I’m about to cum.”

You immediately pulled away. There was no way in hell Hawks was going to come in the store and take up your time without getting you off. “It’s my turn now Keigo. You talked all that shit and now I want to see what you can do. I doubt you’ll be able to get me to cum.” As you planned, this lit a fire under Takami’s ass to drill you harder than an army sergeant. Without a word, Hawks yanked you up from the roots of your hair, shredded off your panties, and proceeded to flip you on top of the counter with your dripping cunt exposed in the air.

“You’ll regret you said that. You’re about to sing my name until your pussy screams and it’ll be music to my ears. I’m gonna make you my dirty little songbird bitch.”

Your heart was racing as you were sprawled out on the counter, your most intimate parts displayed for Hawks’ viewing. You began to turn your head to face him when you felt a strong grip on the base of your scalp again. “I didn’t say you could look at me. Now turn back around or I’ll leave you with a sopping cunt and a hope for a wet dream,” Hawks mimicked. You regretted being so saucy with him before; he now had the upper hand but at the same time, you felt a wicked delight at what was in store. You could feel him tracing the outer folds of your womanhood meticulously and painfully slow before sliding upwards to reach the sensitive skin on your asshole. You involuntarily twitched as he touched this spot, not used to this area being so vulnerable. “It looks like I found your weak spot, baby bird. I think it’s time to show you what happens to bratty bitches who talk so impolitely to me.” You heard a soft whoosh from behind you, similar to a sailing dart. You gasped in shock as you felt the tip of a feather tickling your rim as two fingers began to penetrate the saturation built up in your twinging cunt. Hawks continued this assault as he began to fist his own member using the slick he swiped from your saturated hole, picking up speed to pump synchronously with his digits. “Shit, y/n. I can’t hold out much longer, your slutty pussy is soaking my hand. I want to feel how wet you are. Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fill you with my cum?”

“Keigo, PLEASE! Please fuck me, I can’t take this anymore, ahh-. I’m begging you, I want you to stuff me with your fat cock.”  

Hawks countered your begging by shoving his length into your sopping cavern. You cried out with a mixture of surprise and pain as he began to pump into you with determination. You could feel your walls clamp down on his manhood as he massaged your insides. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but to moan, your mind succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure you felt in your overheating pussy. Hawks felt like absolute nirvana, reaching parts of you that had not been touched in a very long time. He continued his strides in an exaggerated manner, ensuring that you felt every single inch of him from the base all the way to his engorged cockhead. Your wails of satisfaction began to match the reverberation of Keigo’s swollen balls slapping against your perineum, applauding the unification of two strangers and their primitive needs.  “I told you, baby bird. I knew my cock would drive you insane. Who’s your owner now? Tell me, huh? I want you to say it, to scream it at the top of your lungs. Who’s fucking up this tight cunt, yeah? Who’s filling this slutty little hole of yours, songbird?”

“You are, Keigo, fuck. Fuck the shit out of me, please. Keep ramming my pussy, baby. I’m you-” He cut off your anguished whines by shoving his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste your own slick mixed with the flavors of his earlier meal. “Y/N, you sure are talkative for someone who can barely handle a cock inside her. Is papa bird too big for you to handle?”

“Hu-hrd-rr!”

“What was that, filthy girl? You’re mumbling.”

Hawks began to hammer into you, his breathing becoming ragged; the way you took such brutal pounding threatened to buckle his knees. He took his fingers out of your mouth so you could scream “I said, HARDER, you bastard!” You couldn’t help but to whine as he continued to fill your ears with lewd comments and grunts, his rhythm beginning to slightly falter with each clench as he fought to reach your cervix. You attempted to regain regularity in your breathing to no avail.

“Aah, aah, fuck Keigo. This is your pussy, don’t stop. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Shit baby bird, you’re so fucking tight it hurts. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with all my seed. You’re gonna be begging for my cock from now on out and I’ll make sure to give it to you every night. Now cum for me, baby. Sing me a song, songbird. I wanna hear you fucking say whose cock is claiming your pussy!” The screech you let out was inhumane, your legs shaking savagely as a deep, almost painful orgasm rippled from your center. The lilt of your voice sent Hawks into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming unstable and jolting as he moaned your name. You saw Hawks’ eyes begin to glaze over and saw your opportunity to attack. You turned to reach for his throat and pressed firmly with your thumb and index finger with just enough pressure to surprise him, cutting him off mid-groan. “Awhk, f-feels sh-so good. Almost th-there.” You wrapped your legs around Takami’s hips and squeezed as tightly as possible, leaving the pro hero no choice but to release himself inside you, hips bucking as his load emptied in rivets.  

“Ahh shit, y/n. I meant to pull out. I should’ve asked you first.” He sighed as he slowly removed himself from you. You both watched his fatigued member leave your orifice covered in the combination of juices. “Well normally when people order food here, they don’t end up balls deep in me so…” you retorted. Hawks chuckled, a dash of pink beginning to spread on his cheeks. “Well pro heroes don’t normally meet such gorgeous and smart-ass chicks working at fried chicken shops.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. You weren’t immune to his charm, and you were wondering what just transpired. Hawks searched for a clean towel and began to wipe you off, erasing evidence of the night’s events. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you offered as you both began to redress yourselves. You hoped deeply you would see him again someday, even if it was just to order food. Hawks planted a soft kiss on your cheek, then asked “when’s your next day off, y/n?” You sighed lightly, “I actually have the next day off. Thank All Might, I’m exhausted.”

Hawks smiled, ruffled your hair, and replied “hope you’re not too exhausted. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to take you out on a proper date. I know this great little place that sells the best chicken.”  

[needtherapy]

Huaisang’s Hit List

or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my cursed dick

Technically Huaisang never slept with Wen Chao, just...spent a few minutes extricating himself from what turned out to be that awful murder-tortoise cave adventure. And anyway, it doesn’t matter because Wen Chao wasn’t on The List. The List was the problem. Is the problem.

Remember that Top Cultivator’s list? You know the one, the one where the Twin Jades were the two most eligible cultivators and Wei Wuxian was ranked higher than Jiang Cheng?

Yeah, that was Huaisang’s fault. But no one regrets it more than he does.

Except maybe all the dead people.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

Notes: Sort of explicit, and there’s definitely some terribly silly cursed sex acts. If you want to read it on AO3 instead, you can do that too! Many thanks to @coslyons​ and AO3′s mongrelmind and effienell who probably will regret being tagged. Read their fantastic work instead of this absolute travesty.

⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸ ⟹ ⟸

In hindsight, Huaisang should have realized way before the Wei Wuxian Incident that he was cursed. But to be fair, people die all the time.

He should know. He has personally killed eight people with his cursed dick.

“So,” Jiang Cheng says, hands tucked under his head, staring up at the sky, “You’re telling me that everyone you have sex with dies. And therefore, you must be killing them?”

“More or less, yes.”

“Isn’t that a little…” Jiang Cheng pauses and kicks the water his feet are dangling in, apparently trying for once in his life to be tactful, which makes Huaisang even more miserable. If Jiang Cheng is being tactful, it must be the end of the world. “Conceited?”

Huaisang pulls another leaf off the branch he is mutilating. He really doesn’t think he’s ever been conceited. Conceited would imply a lack of justification, and he is quite sure he’s right about this.

“A-Cheng, I have evidence. Hard evidence.”

Jiang Cheng chokes a little, and Huaisang glares at him. “Could you not? This is serious. I am never going to have sex again.”

Jiang Cheng chokes again, this time gasping with pained laughter, and Huaisang throws the branch at him. “Fuck you a-Cheng.”

“Thank all the gods you never have!” Jiang Cheng is howling now, curled in a ball and wheezing, and Huaisang has never been so insulted in his life.

Huaisang gathers what remains of his dignity and stands. He doesn’t care how beautiful Lotus Pier is in summer, or how many different shades of pink the flowers blanketing the lakes are, or how wickedly indulgent the sun feels through only two layers of robes, he is going to walk back down this dock and leave.

“Oh sit down, you big baby.” Jiang Cheng grabs the hem of Huaisang’s green robe. “I know you’re just dying to tell me about your ‘hard evidence’ and as much as I would rather rather erase all knowledge of your sex life from…”

Jiang Cheng's utter inability to disguise any thought he has is a gift, Huaisang thinks. Not only does it mean that in almost twenty years, Huaisang has never lost a game of weiqi, it also means he knows the moment it occurs to Jiang Cheng exactly what he means. Or rather...who.

“You. Did not. Fuck. My brother.”

Huaisang glares at a pair of ducks flying noisily overhead—those bastards were probably using their wings to escape awkward conversations—and silently bemoans his sudden and inexplicable flirtation with honesty. Why precisely had he wanted to share the details of his humiliating curse with Jiang Cheng? He frowns down at Sandu Shengshou’s tight, angry slash of a mouth, crackling dark eyes, cheekbones that could slice open his fingers if he ran them over the ridges…

Oh yes. That was why.

“Well, not first,” Huaisang says, deciding that if he’s in for a piglet, he’s in for a hog. “What happened first was Wen Xu.”

Jiang Cheng rolls into the lake. Huaisang is speechless. As rude escapes from his presence go, it is unprecedented. Wen Xu only snuck out of the window.

⟹ ⟸

Huaisang wasn’t biting his lip because he was nervous. That would be preposterous. He wasn’t a virgin after all. But he had also never picked anyone up in a tavern...well, certainly not a tavern in Hejian...okay, definitely not anyone at a tavern in Hejian as spectacularly handsome as the man whose name he couldn’t recall and really didn’t care about currently stripping in front of…

He lost his train of thought when—what was his name...Yang...Tian...something about the sun—threw his undershirt on the ground and looked expectantly at Huaisang, flexing the outrageous muscles on his chest just enough to make Huaisang’s blood boil. Yes, oh yes, he was definitely going to bite Sun Man right over the top of his left nipple immediately. And then he was going to make Sun Man beg for mercy. He stepped forward, his mouth stretching wide in a practiced seductive smile, and everything went wrong.

Sun Man stepped forward too, eyes closing, an arrogant tilt to his mouth. Huaisang tried to avoid the kiss—who kissed a stranger in an inn?—but he avoided to the left, and Sun Man lurched to the left. Like a slow motion fall off a cliff, they crashed into each other, arms and legs flailing everywhere. Sun Man’s head smacked into Huaisang’s chin, and worse, Huaisang’s knee collided with the soft—well, not that soft, some distant, smug corner of his brain noted—flesh between the man’s legs. He grunted in pain, grabbed Huaisang, and they fell on the floor in a fairly uncomfortable heap.

Fuck. Well, there goes that, Huaisang thought. Another thrilling night listening to da-ge rant about the damn Wen dogs loomed in his future.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Sun Man said immediately, sprawled on top of Huaisang, and Huaisang realized he meant it, judging by the considerably less soft space between his legs that was currently pressed against Huaisang’s hip.

He cheered immediately. Sun Man liked being hurt. It wasn’t a great start, but he could work with that.

Yes, he thought, as he slapped Sun Man hard on his spectacular ass and Sun Man let out a hearty moan, he could work with this.

Later, history books would describe da-ge as glorious in battle, cutting through the Wen army to the Wen heir, knocking the arrogant smile off his face and the man off his horse, laughing when he begged for mercy and dismembering his body as a lesson to the others, all to the triumphant cheers of the combined army.

What the history books did not mention was da-ge dramatically throwing the head on the ground at Huaisang’s feet in the music room.

“I will take his head to Xichen,” da-ge announced proudly, and Huaisang winced. How could anyone be so bad at romantic gifts?

He looked down despite himself—it had been almost a week since da-ge had thrown a Wen body part on the floor—and gasped.

Huaisang tried to look away from Sun Man in time but in the grand tradition of brothers everywhere, da-ge was unfailingly observant at the worst possible times.

“Huaisang, what did you do?”

Nothing, Huaisang thought, snapping his fan open and trying to blink the hysterical laughter away. Just spanked the daylights out of Wen Xu the night before he died. Just made him cry and climax and collapse in snoring exhaustion before Huaisang had a chance to finish any kind of reciprocal satisfaction, the bastard. And then just watched him climb out of the window before dawn. He sighs. What a wasted night.

“Nothing, da-ge. It’s just...he’s leaking on the floor.”

Da-ge grunted and rolled the head out of the room with his foot.

“I was expecting it to last longer, honestly,” da-ge said, and Huaisang thought, me too. “He seemed spent before we even started.”

Huaisang covered his giggle with a sympathetic cough. “How disappointing for you, da-ge.”

“The thing is,” da-ge continued, eyes sharpening in a very worrisome way. “I noticed a distinctive shade of lip color on his neck, right before I separated it from his body. Almost...like...the mauve you’re wearing right now.”

“This is raisin,” Huaisang snapped before he could help himself and then cringed. He was in so much trouble.

But instead, da-ge sank into a chair laughing. “You could have just drugged him, Huaisang. You didn’t have to fuck him. Next time, tell me before you decide to single handedly give our enemy the serpent’s kiss?”

Huaisang decided to take credit for the tactical fucking, but did not want to be assigned any future war jobs, hand, blow, or otherwise.

“I am not having sex with any more Wens,” he said virtuously, sitting in a chair across from his brother. He did not appreciate the roar of laughter.

⟹ ⟸

“Oh gods, how many more Wens did you have sex with?” Jiang Cheng demands, wringing out his dripping hair next to the hearth fire in the kitchen. “The whole army? Wen Ruohan? Truly, you are the unsung hero of the Sunshot campaign. We should have made you chief cultivator.”

“First of all, I would be a phenomenal chief cultivator, thank you.” Huaisang throws a towel at Jiang Cheng, whacking him on the side of the head, but Jiang Cheng just grins charmingly, the wretch. “Second of all, none of course.”

Technically he never slept with Wen Chao, just...spent a few minutes extricating himself from what turned out to be that awful murder-tortoise cave adventure. And anyway, it doesn’t matter because Wen Chao wasn’t on The List. The List was the problem. Is the problem.

Jiang Cheng twists his hair into a knot on the top of his head and starts stripping off his wet clothes.

“Okay, so then you slept with my brother?”

Huaisang slumps in a chair and stares at the carved ceiling, not looking, not looking, not looking. Pretty, he thinks, focusing very diligently on the wood. It looks like a giant lotus flower.

“No, only the number sixes at first,” Huaisang mumbles, wondering if the splotchy paint marks on the carving are actually tiny lotus flowers. If so, he really has to admire how committed the Yunmeng Jiang are to the aesthetic.

Suddenly Jiang Cheng’s face is next to his face, his hands on the arm of the chair, and he looks angry again. Wet and angry. Like a scandalously unrobed cat that just crawled out of a well—Huaisang fumbles the metaphor, too distracted by Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“Are you talking about that plague of a ‘most eligible cultivators’ list? If I ever find out who ruined my life with that list, I am going to tie them to something very hard and beat them within an inch of their life,” he growls, and Huaisang is afraid he might be a little turned on by that. He tries something. A sort of experiment.

“I made the list.”

Jiang Cheng turns white, the blood draining instantly from his face. His eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and Huaisang decides that yes, indeed, he is terrified and aroused. He really does learn something new about himself every day.

“You asshole,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Why?”

“I don’t remember,” he lies. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe it was a list of people I wanted to be friends with.” It was certainly not a list of people he and Meng Yao had wanted to see naked. Not at all.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t move. If anything, his nose gets a little closer to Huaisang’s nose. Tantalizingly within biting distance.

“It was a sex list, wasn’t it,” he accuses, entirely unfairly in Huaisang’s opinion. But then he frowns. “Your brother was on that list. That’s...a bit much, even for you.”

Huaisang sticks out his tongue, almost licking Jiang Cheng. Wisely, Jiang Cheng jumps back, protecting his precious nose with his hand.

“Okay, that was Zewu-Jun’s fault! He found out that da-ge wasn’t on the list and he looked so sad. You know how he is! ‘But Mingjue-xiong is so handsome and kind. Why wouldn’t he be considered the most eligible cultivator? You know I have no interest in such worldly things, but oh, woe, life has been too cruel to my dear, dear friend Mingjue-xiong.’” Huaisang knows he does a killer Lan-zongzhu impression, and Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitches at the corners.

“Fine. You didn’t fuck your brother. Good for you. Go ahead, tell me who you did kill. Since I apparently can’t stop you.”

“I didn’t know I was doing it, a-Cheng. I wouldn’t kill people on purpose.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t hesitate to reassure him.

“Of course you would.”

Huaisang is friends with Jiang Cheng for this exact reason: because he is the kind of friend who would steal chickens and bury bodies with you and not judge or ask questions.

Jiang Cheng freezes, closes his eyes, and asks a very judgmental question. “Don’t tell me you were responsible for Jin Zixuan too?”

Huaisang winces. “Not...only.”

⟹ ⟸

“So you’re second cousins,” Huaisang asked, drinking another cup of the finest wine he can afford, and staring at Jin Zixuan’s increasingly handsome face, already a work of art.

Naturally, it was the other one who answered, because nothing was easy today except for Huaisang.

“No, his mother’s sister’s husband’s sister is my mother. They were married in the same ancestral hall as my mother’s brother’s wife’s brother, though, and....”

Huaisang didn’t give two fucks about Jin Zixun droning on about his relations, but he liked the flush on Jin Zixuan’s cheeks when he caught Huaisang staring at him. He’d had two bottles of wine, and he seemed to be one of those drunks who got quieter and quieter until he fell over. Huaisang wanted to catch him.

He had found Jin Zixuan in Yudao Tang, looking at the map of the Sunshot Campaign without da-ge, and although he was fairly sure it was innocent, he was also fairly sure da-ge would absolutely qi deviate if anyone touched his little metal horses and toy soldiers. He was just going to shoo him away, but Jin Zixuan, the third most eligible cultivator, had given him A Curious Look, and Huaisang had shifted tactics with a military precision he thinks would even have impressed his da-ge.

“You’ve been working so hard, Jin-gongzi,” Huaisang said, testing out Jin Zixuan’s bicep with a soft and gentle squeeze that lingered long enough to promise something hard and rough. “Let’s go share a bottle or two to loosen up for the night.”

He hadn’t even realized the other one was there.

“You’re too generous Nie Huaisang! We accept your offer,” crowed the unwanted Jin, whose name Huaisang was unwillingly informed was Zixun.

So now Huaisang was sitting in an inn in Hejian trying to get Jin Zixun pass-out drunk faster than Jin Zixuan. It wasn’t working. The man had a hollow leg. Possibly two hollow legs. Definitely a hollow brain. But then he felt a hand on his knee, and Jin Zixuan was looking at him from under eyelashes as long and thick as butterfly wings.

“Would you like to leave?” he asked quietly, and Huaisang could not have been more relieved than if he had been plucked from the coils of a liangren she.

“Yes please,” he whispered under Jin Zixun’s droning. “You go first. I’ll follow.”

Jin Zixuan stood gracefully, only swayed a little, and was up the stairs before Jin Zixun had completely explained the intimate details of his mother’s sister’s son’s wedding tea service. Huaisang endured the description of osmanthus cakes for two whole minutes before he laughed loudly, interrupting Boring Cousin.

“Stop! I need to relieve myself and I can’t bear to miss one single detail! Wait right here and I’ll be back.”

Jin Zixun looked disappointed to be robbed of an audience even for a heartbeat, but he stayed, and Huaisang fled.

He found Jin Zixuan waiting in the doorway of his room, and he didn’t waste another second. Pushing Jin Zixuan onto the bed, Huaisang practically launched himself at the man, kissing him viciously, thrilled when Jin Zixuan groaned and locked his hand around the back of Huaisang’s head. He looked rumpled and flushed, and he tasted like heat and honey. Absolutely delicious. Huaisang didn’t understand why Wei Wuxian didn’t like Jin Zixuan. Probably because he’d never bitten the skin at the base of his throat or heard how sweetly he moaned when Huaisang got his pants down and started to stroke him, sliding his hand expertly along the smooth curve.

“There you go sweetheart,” Huaisang encouraged, when Jin Zixuan reached between Huaisang’s legs and finally wrapped those long, thin, elegant fingers around his shaft. He was exactly what Huaisang had hoped: beautiful, strong, and eager, if a little unskilled.

And then Huaisang heard the worst sound he had ever heard in his life.

“Fuck, this is hot,” Jin Zizun slurred from the door. “I want to join.”

⟹ ⟸

“And then he did, a-Cheng,” Huaisang whines, taking a bite out of the dumpling Jiang Cheng hands him. “It was the worst.”

Jiang Cheng looks unsympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you done detailing how you fucked my brother-in-law and his abhorrent cousin to death? I tuned out somewhere around the extremely comprehensive description of my sister’s father’s daughter’s husband’s dick, which I could have lived my whole life without hearing.”

“You asked,” Huaisang points out.

“‘Yes’ or ‘no’ would have been sufficient,” Jiang Cheng retorts.

Huaisang hadn’t considered that.

“Oh. Um, yes. I was responsible for Jin Zixuan. And Jin Zixun, although I didn’t mean to be. And...um...Ouyang Xi and Yao Shui. They were both number sixes. Ouyang Xi was the only girl I ever put on the list. Remember her? She was amazing.”

Jiang Cheng sits back, thinking. “Wasn’t she taller than Hanguang-Jun?” When Huaisang nods, Jiang Cheng whistles appreciatively. “Oh yeah, I remember her. She was something. I can’t even be mad about that one.”

He seems to realize how that sounded and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous. You aren’t killing people. They died in the war. They died because they were assholes. They died because people die. That’s not proof.”

Huaisang does not want to tell him about Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian is proof.

“It was twice with Wei Wuxian. And he died twice. Once his heart. Once his life. That’s when I realized, and that’s when I stopped having sex.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops open a little and he stares at Huaisang, obviously dumbfounded, probably horrified. Finally, Huaisang thinks, Jiang Cheng doesn’t have anything sarcastic to say.

“I am so mad at you right now,” he finally replies, and Huaisang shrinks. “Once you realized, why the fuck didn’t you sleep with Hanguang-Jun? You could have made my life so much easier. Gods, Huaisang, you are never thinking about me.”

Huaisang’s mind spins futilely, a dog chasing its tail, but he finally processes Jiang Cheng’s sparkling eyes, the slightly raised left eyebrow, and the extremely provoking way he is biting his lip as “teasing.” Huaisang expects his eyes to stop there, but the traitors keep going, looking at Jiang Cheng’s muscular chest, disappointingly garbed in dry clothes, his long legs stretched out in front of him…no! Focus on being truthful! His mind—okay possibly not his mind—objects to both truthfulness and not ogling Jiang Cheng but he perseveres.

“You...you aren’t angry? About Wei Wuxian?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. “He’s alive now. What can I change about the past? And I’m not sure I want to hear any,” he pokes Huaisang in the chest, “ANY details about whatever you two did.”

Huaisang thinks about Wei Wuxian at sixteen, full of sunshine and curiosity, kneeling in front of him in the woods behind Cloud Recesses, and he thinks of Wei Wuxian during Sunshot, his jagged edges so beautiful and sharp, begging Huaisang to tighten the rope a little more, hurt him a little more, distract him a little more.

“Nope, nope, see, that face is exactly what I don’t want to hear,” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “Not a word, Huaisang. Not a word.”

He leans forward and pours more wine into Huaisang’s cup. “Look, just stop making the list and you’ll be fine. You can go back to doing whatever, whoever, you want.”

“I did! I haven’t been in charge of the list for years! For a while, no one was updating it, and then I handed it over to Jingyi, oh, about a year before Wei Wuxian came back, but...it still works.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes roll back so hard, so long, Huaisang hopes they get stuck. “I assume you know because you tested it personally. I compliment the rigorous dedication to checking your theory, Huaisang.”

Huaisang sniffs. That poor Zhao girl (an exceptional number seven—Huaisang couldn’t argue with Jingyi’s taste, at least) had died horribly, he thinks, falling from her sword after a tragic mid-air goose collision.

“Well, I had to check, because…” If he is ever going to face a consequence, Huaisang thinks, today is the day. “For once, I wanted to use it.”

And then he waits for the dao to fall.

⟹ ⟸

Huaisang had planned of course, planned for years. Found evidence. Found witnesses. Found proof. But nothing was as good as a sure thing. So he would do this distasteful thing to ensure that no matter what happened, no matter how it happened, his plan would succeed.

Winning was so close he could taste it, like salty tears, like bitter fruit. It was a taste he remembered well.

“San-ge,” he sobbed, drinking his wine and immediately burning off the alcohol, “I just don’t know what to do. I’m going to die alone.”

Jin Guangyao, who Huaisang never thought of san-ge in his mind anymore, looked a little annoyed, but Huaisang poured him another cup of Emperor’s Smile, and his brother’s murderer relaxed.

“A-Sang,” he said in a patronizing tone, as though he was so much older and more mature than Huaisang. “We can visit another matchmaker and try again.”

“Noooooo,” Huaisang wailed. “I just can’t. It won’t help. You must have advice. What can I do to make a woman love me?”

There it was. The flinch. Huaisang loved the flinch. The flinch was winning. He gleefully drove the sword in deeper.

“Oh no, I’m a fool,” he moaned, with a dramatic sniffle, drying his tears and touching the back of Jin Guangyao’s hand, the lightest feather, only the tip of his finger grazing one knuckle. “I’m being selfish. This is such terrible timing, with everything that’s happened. I’m just so lonely. I miss…”

Huaisang sighed and turned away morosely, watching Jin Guangyao out of the corner of his eye. He really wasn’t as good at hiding his reactions as he thought he was. For instance, he bit the inside of his lip the way he always did when he was thinking of the past. And his eyes shifted to the right the way they always did when he was about to lie, so Huaisang beat him to the punch, pouring more wine. Four bottles down.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure you never think about...well...you know.” He let his eyelashes flutter. Jin Guangyao looked a little alarmed, so Huaisang ratcheted the flutter back to a flicker. “But it was the best time of my life,” Huaisang said with a wistful jab, adding a twist of longing, and the thrust hit home.

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao said, sounding a little like he was drunk and a lot like he was weakening. “That was a long time ago.”

Huaisang was aware. He was aware that Meng Yao was never on The List, so sleeping with him never counted. He was aware that it was, perhaps, a bit callous to put a man whose wife died two days ago on a list of most eligible bachelors but he is Jin-zongzhu and chief cultivator. It would honestly be a crime not to include him.

“Maybe...maybe tonight I could help you and you could help me? Think of it as therapeutic catharsis, a-Yao.” Huaisang suggested, this time touching Jin Guangyao’s knee, and, when he got no objection, sliding his hand up further.

This is no worse than Su She, he reminded himself. Actually, a lot less worse, he decided, remembering the flash of raw meat that was Su She’s chest with a repressed shudder. He definitely can’t think about that, or he won’t even be able to coax The Cursed One into working order.

“Sang-er,” Jin Guangyao whispered, and Huaisang knew he’d won.

In more ways than one.

⟹ ⟸

Huaisang can’t tell what the look on Jiang Cheng’s face means.

“Ha!” Jiang Cheng shouts, and then tips sideways onto the couch laughing.

No, laughing is a polite word for polite people. Jiang Cheng is braying, quite a bit like Wei Wuxian’s donkey. It is frankly, very unbecoming behavior for a sect leader.

“You sound like Lil’ Apple,” Huaisang says crossly, and Jiang Cheng laughs harder, falling on the ground at Huaisang’s feet.

“You named your dick ‘The Cursed One’? No wonder it hates you. I’d hate you too. Here’s a suggestion. Try naming it something nice!”

“Oh, like ‘Princess?’”

Jiang Cheng shuts up.

But not for long. Never for long. The only person who shuts up less than Huaisang is Jiang Cheng. Huaisang considers himself a model of restraint compared to Jiang Cheng.

“What if you just kiss someone? Does that kill them?”

Huaisang eyes Jiang Cheng suspiciously, but he is sitting up, not laughing, and looks genuinely curious.

“My lips aren’t cursed.”

Jiang Cheng nods slowly. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Not really, but I’m trying to be supportive of your bout with insanity. What happens if you have sex with people who aren’t on the list?”

“Nothing. But I never know who is on the list anymore. Jingyi and Sizhui are very protective of it. I don’t think they trust me not to tell anyone they write it.”

Jiang Cheng gives him a disbelieving look. “I can’t imagine why.”

Huaisang can’t either. It is a very unfilial lack of faith in his well-proven ability to keep secrets.

“Well, I guess if it’s the only way you’ll ever have sex again, I’m willing to sacrifice myself,” Jiang Cheng announces, holding out his arms and wiggling his hips suggestively. “Come and get it, Huaisang. I’m sorry, but this is your best, no, your only option.”

Huaisang kicks Jiang Cheng’s foot viciously. “You are so mean, a-Cheng, and it doesn’t help, because you’re still on the list, okay? Stupid Jingyi and his stupid crush. You’re number three now.”

Jiang Cheng grins so broadly, Huaisang hates him. Hates him a lot. Stupid, vain, irritating Jiang Cheng. He can’t remember why they’re friends. He can’t remember why he likes him.

“That’s so sweet! I knew I liked that kid for a reason. I should invite him over for tea sometime.”

Huaisang pops to his feet. “You go right ahead. I’m leaving.”

As fast as a striking snake, Jiang Cheng sits up and grabs Huaisang around the waist, pulling him down, startling a squeak out of Huaisang as he lands on Jiang Cheng’s lap.

“You idiot,” Jiang Cheng tells Huaisang fondly, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Have you ever tried having sex with anyone on the list who isn’t a fragile flower? Or who thought you were worth risking a little death for? Maybe you aren’t cursed. Maybe you just have terrible taste.”

He kisses Huaisang, so gently and tenderly, eyes closed, nose rubbing Huaisang’s cheek, and it is nothing like Huaisang expected, but it does feel a little like something breaks. Maybe it’s the curse. Maybe it’s the brittle ice around his heart that formed when da-ge died. Whatever it is, he can’t be bothered to think about it. He kisses Jiang Cheng back with everything he’s wanted to say since the day they met.

“Wait!”

Jiang Cheng wrenches away and glares at Huaisang. “Number three? Three? I can understand two, because ugh, Xichen, but who else could possibly be more eligible than me?”

“Cheng-gege, I’m probably just remembering wrong. You know how I am with details. I’m sure you’re second,” Huaisang soothes, wanting to return to the kissing part without having to tell Jiang Cheng that er-ge had put his foot down a long time ago about being on the list. It is actually his nephew who is number two and Ouyang Zizhen who is number one. He doesn’t think Jiang Cheng will see the humor in it.

“That’s true, you do have an atrocious memory,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “For instance, you seem to have forgotten that you spent the entire afternoon detailing your exploits with half the cultivation world.”

Huaisang’s thought process is somewhat compromised, and he can’t make himself connect Jiang Cheng’s words with the feel of his hands, those wide, strong hands cupping Huaisang’s ass.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, tipping his head back and letting Jiang Cheng nibble a path down his neck. “They were all terrible. I do not recommend any of them, especially not the dead ones.”

Jiang Cheng laughs, a rumbling sound that makes Huaisang’s fingers fumble at the lotus clasp on his belt.

“I didn’t hate it, but we’re going to start a new list, Sang-er, called ‘Huaisang’s Best Sex,’ and I am going to be the ony person on it,” Jiang Cheng informs Huaisang, biting his earlobe.

“It’s not…” Huaisang kisses Jiang Cheng’s exquisite collarbone, having cleverly freed him from his robes, “...a list if…” Huaisang wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng’s neck and rocks against him, “...there’s only one person on it.”

With a growl that might be hiding a laugh, Jiang Cheng flips Huaisang onto his back and grinds against him. “Stop arguing, Sang-er. I am busy writing my name on your new list, and I expect it to take the rest of the night.”

Now that he thinks about it, Huaisang decides, lifting his hips so Jiang Cheng can pull off his pants, it’s really a brilliant idea. The best idea Jiang Cheng has ever had. Jiang Cheng’s mouth engulfs Huaisang’s very much forgiven dick, and with a gasp and a moan, he vows to henceforth let Jiang Cheng have all the ideas.

⟹ ⟸

Huaisang stretches like a cat in the morning, as pleased with himself as the sun is to rise, and stares down at Jiang Cheng’s unfairly beautiful face. Last night, Jiang Cheng had seemed very determined to break the curse, or break Huaisang’s back, and Huaisang isn’t surprised that he’s still asleep. With one finger, Huaisang traces the line of Jiang Cheng’s jaw and leans down to kiss his cool, smooth lips.

Cool lips.

No.

No!

Huaisang flails out of the bed, scrambling backward, falling, shaking his head as though not looking directly at Jiang Cheng will change what he felt.

He knew he should have listened to his gut and not his traitorous, evil dick.

“No no no no no no,” he chants softly, like it will make Jiang Cheng any less dead if he says it enough times.

And then a ton of rocks falls on his head. He is in the Jiang zongzhu’s bedroom with a dead Jiang-zongzhu. The self-preservation instinct that has kept him alive this long kicks him in the ass. He hurries to Jiang Cheng’s side of the bed and rolls him over, tucking the blanket around him like a mushu pancake. First, roll up the body, he mutters to himself. Then, dump him in the lake. Then, run away. This would be easier if he had someone to help. Like Jiang Cheng.

He stops and frowns. Is that…

The rolled up blanket shakes and Huaisang leaps back, clearing the entirety of the lotus-shaped rug—gods, they are devoted to that theme—and landing on a chair as far away from the undead Jiang Cheng as possible.

The wildly panicking rabbit in his head only slows its escape as he recognizes the sound from the bed.

Laughter.

Fucking laughter.

Fucking Jiang Cheng rolls himself out of the blanket. Not dead.

Not yet, at least. Huaisang is formulating some very definite ideas on how to change Jiang Cheng’s living status right now.

“Your face! You should see your face. I swear, I will cultivate immortality just so I can remember this moment for a thousand years. I never thought there would be a reason to use my qi to slow my heart rate like that but I was so wrong. You were going to dump me in the lake!”

“What is wrong with you!” Huaisang shouts. “I thought I’d killed you!” He stalks over to Jiang Cheng, intending to make his assumption reality, but Jiang Cheng wraps his legs tightly around Huaisang’s waist and kisses him soundly.

“I don’t die easily, Nie Huaisang. Not for you, not for anyone. Besides, I’ve waited too long for you to figure out you’re in love with me. Now, come back to bed, and I’ll let you try to kill me again, as many times as you want. If you’re very good, maybe Princess will return the favor and try to kill you too.”

Dammit, Huaisang should have known he’d like the name. He’s going to be stuck calling Jiang Cheng’s dick Princess forever.

He grins and shoves Jiang Cheng backward, straddling his waist, and the aforementioned Princess twitches enthusiastically. Forever is a nice amount of time, Huaisang decides, and Princess is a small price to pay for forever.

[kareofbears]

number one fan

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

Especially when someone unexpected is sitting close by. 

—

read on ao3 or under the cut :) 

(lovingly beta read by @mad4turtles)

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

“Man, it’s so effin’ crowded here,” Ryuji grumbles, half-shoving people out of the way. They learned early on to make him spearhead the group in packed environments, given that he’s the only one with enough guts to openly ask crowds to move out of the way. He’s like a pissed-off shepherd towing his sheep.

“What do you expect?” Makoto sighs, one hand gripping Haru’s wrist and the other clutching Ann’s jacket, kindergarten style. “This is something like the semi-finals, right?”

Akira shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Ryuji’s from the sheer proximity. “No clue.”

“Didn’t she give you the tickets?”

“Sure she did, but it’s not like it came with some kind of gymnastics handbook.”

“Does anyone even know what type of gymnastics she’s in?” Haru asks, grip tightening around Makoto’s hand when a group of enthusiasts threatens to break them apart.

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, the one with the string twirling, right? She posted it on her Insta the other day, she looked so good.”

“She did! I can only imagine how rigorous her regimen must be.”

“Do you think she’d give me her secret? I wonder if she even lets herself snack.”

"I think so? She posted some desserts on her story recently."

Ryuji scratches his head. "There's more than one type of gymnastics?"

Makoto lets her head drop forward. "We don't deserve these tickets."

Akira turns his head back to the rest of them. "We're getting close to our seats," he says with a raised voice to combat the noisy crowd ('raised' only in the sense that it's slightly louder than his usual soft tone. Akira is a man of many talents, but voice projection is not one of them).

Someone from a step above them knocks their elbow into Akira's head, enough to make him stumble back a few steps, surprised.

Ryuji sends a glare at the stranger, eyes dark. "Hey, watch it, you motherfu—"

"And here are our seats!" Makoto claps her hands. "Let's sit before we do something illegal!"

Akira cards through Ryuji's hair, a silent thank you, I love you, but please calm down.

Eventually, he relents. "Fine."

Ann collapses into one of the bright red, plastic seats. "Thank God, my feet were killing me."

Haru joins her, grimacing. "Why are these seats so sticky...?"

"Because whenever they do a real good flip, the fanatics piss themselves."

"Ryuji, what the hell?"

"Sorry."

"Okay everyone," Makoto peers down at her phone. "Competition starts in two minutes. Settle in, but don’t go to the bathroom."

"Don't go to the bathroom?" Akira raises an eyebrow. "Are you Ushimaru?"

"I'm just saying that, given our position, we're basically stuck to our seats until everyone else leaves."

"For real?" Ryuji groans. "I really wanted one of those hot dogs they have, where they're yelling out 'hot dogs!' and shit."

"This isn't some American baseball game, dumbass," Ann snorts.

"I know that!"

Haru points past Ryuji. "If you're really desperate to go, you might be able to ask that man to move his tripod aside to make room for you."

"You're totally right! What a good senpai," he casts a grin at Haru before calling out to the man a few seats down from them. He's dressed bulkily for such a packed stadium: a thick black hoodie with the hood up, and a thick pair of black shades. To top it all off, he has an annoyingly big tripod in front of him with an expensive-looking camera perched on top. "Yo! 'Scuse me!"

Ryuji blinks as the man almost seemed to shift away from him. "Uh, hello? I just got a quick question."

To everyone's surprise, the man seemed to turn even more, his torso twisted in the opposite direction.

Makoto squints. “Maybe he didn’t hear you?”

“Whatever, it’s about to start anyway,” Ryuji falls back into his chair. “I’ll just ask him again when I actually need to go. Oh, look it’s her!”

Sumire stands with her coach, dressed in a bright leotard and a determined expression on her face, nodding along intently.

Ann leans forward over the railing. “Go Yoshizawa! Woo! Come on guys, we’re here to cheer!”

“Well, she did give us the best seats… it only makes sense that we make the most of them.” Haru says, before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Let’s go, Yoshizawa!”

“Hell yeah, Yoshizawa!”

“You can do it!”

“Gymnastics.”

“Akira, you suck.”

Sumire looks up, eyes brightening as she waves back enthusiastically in their direction. To their surprise, she brings her hands together to make a heart.

“That’s sweet of her,” Haru comments. “I wonder who that was for.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Probably Akira.”

“It’s for Akira.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so,” Akira frowns. “She’s never done that before.”

“Man, don’t try to be all humble—everyone knows she had a thing for you.”

“In the first ten minutes, maybe. Now she’s just a little sister,” Akira waves at Sumire. “Go back to cheering.”

“Good idea,” Ryuji takes a deep breath. “Give me a Y!”

“Y!” Ann yells back.

“Give me an O!”

“O!”

Makoto rubs her temples. “We really don’t deserve these tickets.”

—

The competition goes off without a hitch, Sumire taking first place with ease. If the people around them were exasperated with their cheering before, it’s nothing compared to how they screamed their throats raw when she accepted her gold medal. The stranger in the black hoodie kept throwing them dirty looks, but they didn’t care.

“I’m so thirsty,” Ann rasps, once the award ceremony wraps up. “Anyone have water?”

“Nope,” Ryuji stands, stretching his arms above his head. “I need the bathroom pretty bad, though.”

To their misfortune, people are still slowly filing out of their seats, too slow for their liking. There’s a gap in the crowd, but the only way to get to it is through—

“The man is still there?” Haru asks.

“It seems so,” Makoto says. “He’s probably a huge fan of the whole gymnastics scene, given the way he’s so careful with his camera.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I gotta go,” Ryuji says, before turning to the man once more. “Sorry dude, gotta move past you for real this time.”

And just like before, the man steadfastly ignores him. Akira narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. Everyone stiffens. The words he spoke did not belong to Kurusu Akira and is now owned by someone donned in a long, black tail-coat, armed with a knife as sharp as a tack. “Please move. My partner here is trying to walk past you.”

And still, the man doesn’t shift.

Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s forearm. “Chill,” he says, running his hand up and down in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Ryuji might be the one on a hair-trigger temper, but no one has anything on Akira if someone so much as looks at his friends the wrong way.”It’s cool, ‘Kira. If the dude’s busy, then he’s busy. We’ll just wait for the other side to file out, yeah?”

Akira smiles, just a little. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dude.”

“—but you’re too nice.” He rips his arm from Ryuj’s lax grip and saunters over to the man.

“Respect,” Ann mutters, impressed.

“Stupid,” Makoto rectifies, face palming

“Hi there,” Akira greets, faux cheerful in a voice they recognize as his customer service voice. “Still ignoring us? That’s cool,” he shrugs a shoulder. “We’re used to it. Not a problem—we know how to be heard.”

In one, swift movement, Akira stands in front of the tripod.

Ryuji covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. “I’m dating an actual bastard.”

The man visibly bristles and looks up to send Akira a black look from under his hood.

“Can you—” he hisses, before cutting himself off. “I mean,” clearing his throat, he drops his voice to a low grunt, not too different from a child impersonating an old man. “Move, dammit!”

Haru frowns. “That voice…”

The man shoots her a dirty look, before quickly turning his sight downward, but it was too late: they’ve all already caught a glimpse of his panicked brown eyes.

“Alright, I’ll move,” he says in the same gruff voice. “Just leave me alone—”

Akira bends down slightly, squinting at the man who’s avidly attempting to pull down his hood even more.

Squirming in his seat, “Young man, you are being extremely rude and hostile and I don’t appreciate—”

Akira reaches forward to grab his hood and forces it back, allowing Akechi Goro’s hair to flow down on his shoulders.

They all stilled, frozen in shock. Eyes widened, mouths openly gaping. Only Akira’s expression remained unchanged; cool and filled with disdain.

Ryuji is the first to speak. “I really hope I didn’t just piss myself.”

“What—” Ann splutters. “What are you—why the hell—I just—”

Makoto’s hand are alternating between making a numbered list with her fingers and gesticulating wildly. “So you’re in a gymnastics competition, and you’re actively hiding from us, and you have a camera which is weird at best, why are you—”

“I truly want to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Akechi-kun,” Haru cuts in. “But I’m kind of struggling to find—”

“Bro, like, a camera? You weren’t even trying to hide how weird this—”

“I know a thing or two about creeps and—”

“Oh, would you all give it a rest, you damn dolts!” Akechi snaps. “Your insistent cheering from earlier is already giving me a migraine.”

Akira narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

“I just don’t understand, Akechi,” Makoto’s brows furrows. “You could have avoided being caught if you had just moved out of the way before sounding the alarm bells through Akira’s head.”

Leaning back into his chair, Akechi shoots her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Why not?” Ann asks. “Do you really just love pissing us off?”

“No, I didn’t even know you clowns were beside me until it was too late,” he shoots a glare somewhere down towards the mats. “I couldn’t have moved this camera because…”

Everyone leans forward, awaiting his response as Akechi trails off. He blinks slowly.

“Hello?” Ryuji asks, incredulous. “What the hell was that? Why’d you stop talking?”

“You know what?” He stands abruptly, words flying out of his mouth. “I don’t need to answer any of your questions like some kind of interrogation,” shoving his arms through his jacket. “I know my rights,” he plucks the camera off of the tripod and closes its legs with a snap. “I’m a detective.”

With a dignified tilt of his head, he turns to leave only for Akira to cut him off by placing a foot on the stadium chair. “Nice try.”

“Move,” Akechi spits through gritted teeth.

“Nope.”

“Not before you tell us why you were recording Yoshizawa-chan,” Haru smiles.

Ann points at Akechi like she’s about to challenge him to a duel. “We care about her too much to let this go, so fess up!”

Rubbing his temples, “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Then explain yourself!” Makoto says.

“No.”

“Hold on, guys.”

Everyone turns to Ryuji, who’s squinting at Akechi. “We got these dope tickets from Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So how did this geezer get his hands on his?”

Akira’s eyes twinkle. “Now that’s a fantastic question.”

“I’m sure you all had an absolute grandiose time finding a brand new way to annoy me,” Akechi drawls. “But you aren’t going to get a single word out of—”

“Goro!”

They all turn to the sound of a familiar voice, only to blink when Yoshizawa Sumire comes running towards them, dressed out of her leotard and into her black tracksuit.

Akechi’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “No, go away Sumire. I’ll—I’ll meet you downstairs—”

“Yeah, right! That’s what we’ve been doing, but then you didn’t show up. You got me worried! Thought the crowd ate you up.” Sumire rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Hello, senpais!” Bowing deeply, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us.”

Slowly, they all turn to stare at Akechi, who’s expression is contorting in a strange way—his lips are pursed, and his arms are crossed in a defensive manner.

“Um…” Ann blunders. “Yup.”

“It was our pleasure,” Akira covers for her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Congrats on the win.”

Sumire lights up. “Thank you! Speaking of—” she turns to Akechi, hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t forget to record me this time. And please tell me I’m in frame. Last time was a mess.”

Akechi gives her a dirty look but nods all the same. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?”

“Hurray!” she claps her hands together. “Funny story, actually. At my last competition, I asked Goro to film me—”

“Sumire,” he hisses at her, but she ignores him.

“But people kept moving the camera and messing it all up! It was a miracle that I had one more competition before the finals came up—I seriously need that footage for practice.”

She laughs, light and trill; a perfect juxtaposition to Akechi’s dark, defeated expression.

“Okay,” Ryuji shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What Ryuji is actually means to ask,” Makoto averts. “Are you two…”

“Friends?” Akira finishes. His eyes flicker between the two of them like he’s working out an incredibly difficult equation. “Are you two friends?”

“I don’t have friends,” Akechi insists, the same time Sumire beams, “We’re best friends!”

A beat passes.

“Would you all stop staring at me?” Akechi snaps, and they all immediately look away, but it was too late. They’ve finally nailed his expression, one so strange to see on him that it took much longer than it needed to:

Akechi Goro is embarassed.

“Wow,” Haru whispers.

Sumire peers down at her watch and yelps. “Shoot, it’s that late? Sorry, everyone, we have to leave. Goro treats me whenever I get that first place.”

“Does he now?” Akira remarks innocently. Akechi’s glare can wither flowers.

He drops his foot, allowing Akechi to stride past him a little too quick to be nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t forget this.” Akira swoops down to pick up the forgotten, handing it to Akechi. When their hands touch, he whispers, “Besties, huh?”

“I’ll fucking end you.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

Yanking his hand away, Akechi stalks off. Sumire sighs dramatically.

“Such a drama queen! But I should leave, too.” She bows once more. “Thank you again.”

“No…problem…” Makoto trails off when Sumire runs to Akechi’s side, casually linking arms with him.

Silence encompasses the group.

“That’s weird, right?” Ryuji finally asks. “Like, I’m not wrong for thinking that was really fucking weird, right?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Makoto confirms.

“Really?” Akira muses. “I can kind of see it.”

Ann rubs her temples. “Whatever. That whole thing plus my dehydration just gave me the world’s biggest headache.”

“Ryuji, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” Haru reminds him kindly.

“Huh? Oh. I don’t know, I think I’ve might have just moved past it.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, Takamaki. Let’s leave, I hate it here.”

“Because you peed yourself?”

“I did not.”

—

“I hate you.”

Sumire doesn’t look up from her slice of carrot cake. “No, you don’t.”

Their usual cafe was near empty in thanks to the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening and barely anyone knows this place exists—only a barista is inside with them, trying his best to text on his phone in secrecy and failing miserably. She can feel his glare at her from across the table, though there’s no heat behind it. (There hasn’t been heat behind it for a long time.)

“No,” Akechi agrees. “I don’t.”

She glances up at him. He hasn’t touched his tart yet. “But you’re upset with me.”

His brows scrunch slightly as he rolls his answer around his head. This was to be expected.

“No,” he decides. “I’m not upset, either. But I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you would do that. I hate them, Sumire, and you know that.” Picking up his fork, he prods at his fruit tart absentmindedly. “You’re a good person, even if you aren’t nice—”

“Only to you I’m not.”

“—so you won’t do anything that would disconcert me in a legitimate way on purpose.”

Her shoulders tense. “Did it disconcert you?”

“It unsettled me, sure. But only because I knew where their tickets came from, and it certainly didn’t come from Takamaki’s profound interest in gymnastics.”

“Unsettled you?”

Akechi gives her an exasperated look. “You’re going to make me say it?”

“How about a deal?” she offers, smiling ever so lightly. “You say it out loud and I’ll tell you why I did it.”

Sighing, he heavily leans back into his chair. “I despise the idea of them seeing me… like that.”

“Like a human being?”

“Like I’m weak,” he corrects.

“Seeing you in a normal setting,” she settles. “With a friend?”

“You’re pushing it.”

Her smile widens. An odd setting is more accurate. It’s only in a gymnastics setting that she can really get a reaction out of him—rarely does he act the way he did. It’s his own brand of sweet that’s really grown on her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she starts, setting down her fork. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”

“Shocker. Which part?”

“About you hating them.”

When she doesn’t continue, he kicks her shin lightly. “Don’t be cryptid.” Which is his way of saying talk to me.

Sumire kicks him back. “I’m not! I’m just thinking.”

She chooses her words with care. “You said something, a while ago,” she says slowly. “Like way, way back. It was kind of offhand, and you probably said it as a way to prove how much you hated them or something. But you mentioned that Akira—and the rest of his lovely friends—were the first people to really treat you like…a person.”

Akechi blinks, and she feels her eyes soften. Of course he thought (or hoped) that she’d forgotten a detail like that.

“And yes, lots of stuff happened in between,” she continues. “Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I’ll probably never know about. But…I owe them, I think.” Sumire shrugs. “They took care of you before I could have. So I was worried that it bugged you when you lost touch with them.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment before he knits his brows together. “And that led you to try and cupid me with them during your semi-final?”

“When you say it like that—”

“‘Losing touch’ is very different from what actually happened,” he cuts off, leaning forward. “And just because they didn’t treat me like a famous asshole from television absolutely did not create some kind of fostered kinship.”

Akechi’s eyes never soften, never lose focus, but occasionally they can lose some of their steel. Warmth engulfs her as she watches it happen now. “For the record, no. It doesn’t bother me,” he hesitates. “Not…not anymore.”

Just as quick as it arrived, the moment passes. Straightening up, “And you? Does it bug you?”

She blinks. “What does?”

“That I make for a lackluster cheerleader.”

Sumire laughs, too loud for the near-empty cafe. Impossible. He may be a mess with words, would rather pull out his own teeth than confess vulnerability, but he’s shown up to every single one of her competition and sat through the entire thing. From warm-ups to the awards ceremony, it’s undoubtedly a grueling time to spend his day, and as much as he loves to complain about it, whenever she looks up from the mat, he’s always there in the exact same spot without fail.

She snags a strawberry off of his tart, making him click his tongue harmlessly at her.

“You’re more than enough.”

[black-streak]

Waiting For The Worms - The Show Must Go On

Part 4

Sooo, this isn't nearly as dark and has very little angst in comparison to the point I'd almost say it isn't? It's pretty much just an update on life in a way. Which is also part of why it took so long for me to write. Like, the struggle was real. Next chapter will go back to your regularly scheduled heartbreak.

Warnings from chapter 1, while mostly inapplicable for this part, still in effect.

The gallery: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

The next year of Jason's life was hectic to say the least.

It started with the downfall of Lila Rossi. Which consequently, he had no part in. She stepped on the wrong toes, made a few too many contradictions and suddenly a pile of lawsuits were stacked against her. Her mother went completely ape shit on her and pulled her out immediately to be shipped off to a very strict boarding school. More like a juvenile detention center if the rumors were true.

For the first month, no one approached him. The guilty, stricken looks upon his classmates' faces told a million stories of apologetic remorse, but since becoming a jaded, snarky outcast, 'Marinette' was no longer the person you could give a simple apology to and expect forgiveness. And no one wanted to be the first to get shot down.

Eventually, the first apology came. Surprisingly, Alya tried to win his favor. She groveled and apologized up and down on how terrible she and Lila had been and named every reason in the book as to why she had reacted and treated Marinette the way she did in an attempt to explain herself. While it wasn't necessarily surprising that she would be the first to not fear him, it was shocking she saw the error of her ways so soon with all that bull headed ego she carried around.

Bravery got her nowhere, however, as Jason only lifted an eyebrow, arms crossed as he leaned back, and calmly replied.

"Cool story, still betrayal."

As the girl sputtered before him, he turned back towards Chloe, continuing to make their plans for the day. After two minutes had passed and Alya still stood there hunting for her words, he turned back.

"Can you leave? Sometime today would be nice."

And so the precedent was set. While it took another week for someone else to approach, they seemed spurred on by the ease of Alya's dismissal. Suppose they figured if the biggest offender only got mild verbal abuse and dismissal, things had to go more smoothly for them.

Nino came next, awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact included. He pushed through his apology, beating around the bush and trying to defuse the situation at the same time he built it up. It only served to piss Jason off. They deserve better than this. At least meet her eyes if you're going to apologize and expect me to believe it.

"Uh… Marinette? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I assumed you were talking to the desk next to me and minded my business. Would hate to be accused of eavesdropping."

He flinched at the reminder and finally looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. What we did was wrong. What I did was wrong and I am so beyond sorry for it. There is no excuse for my behavior."

"You're right. There isn't. Do better in the future."

"I will!," he rushed to reassure Jason, voice hopeful, "Does this mean we can be friends again?"

"No. Do better for those who chose to be your friend in the future."

"Oh… okay, yeah, that's fair," Nino gave a downtrodden look and wandered off.

Next came Sabrina and Rose, who didn't so much as apologize to him, but instead tried to reattach themselves to Chloe and Juleka's sides as if nothing had happened at all. This might not have thrown Chloe in the slightest, but poor Juleka looked a moment from having an anxiety attack. Chloe made short work of both girls, dismissing them entirely and when Rose started to cry and stare at Juleka for reassurance that everything was okay, Jason pulled the goth into a hug, glaring at the little blonde girl, until eventually she received the hint and ran off, tears streaming down her face. Apparently Nathaniel gave Marc the same treatment.

Lastly Kim, Alix, Max, Ivan, and Mylene came as a group. They must've taken comfort in their numbers, hoping it would somehow protect them from him singling them out. Thought everything would go smoother that way. He could hear Juleka grumbling at his side where they sat under a tree for lunch. They both appreciated the shade and quiet peace of the place. Marc sat on her other side, writing away in a journal.

"Hey Mari, we wanted to apologize for the way we've been acting lately," Alix took the lead.

"Yeah, it was really uncool of us," Kim followed up, the others nodding along.

They looked imploring. Like they were waiting for some sort of forgiveness. He couldn't help but wonder if they thought their actions were somehow better. That he couldn't really be mad at them because they weren't the ones who lied or lead the pack against his soulmate. They didn't make harsh accusations or physically attack Marinette. So somehow, they were better and their apologies could be less.

How fucking rude. How presumptuous. How entitled to think his time, thoughts, feelings were forfeit in their need for forgiveness. Marinette deserved better in her time here than these heartless bastards. None of them ever defended her either. Or him for that matter. Not one of them tried to so much as change the subject to avoid harping on him. None cared when his soulmate never returned to her body. Maybe that wasn't fair, but at the very least they could've approached him in his grief when it was easily displayed. Everyone here had a soulmate and knew the signs of loss for when one died. Surely they knew that this person in this body lost their other half. And yet not a soul outside of his group had offered condolences.

"That's all you have to offer? That it wasn't cool?" Juleka asked, tone quiet but sharp.

"Well it's not like we-"

"Let me cut you off there, before you piss me off. You didn't personally attack me, you just watched and snickered behind hands. Joined in to the cruel jokes and snide remarks. Encouraged those who did attack. At least they had the decency to be that way to my face and let me know where we stood. You? Hiding behind others actions and grouping up to give half-hearted sorrys that you barely think of before you speak? Now you guys are the ones that truly infuriate me. Either you believed I deserved the treatment I received but refused to be singled out for it. Or you thought what was happening was wrong and were too much of a coward to step up and help me out. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, I don't want to see a single one of you approach me again. I don't mean enough to you to make a stand? Then you don't mean enough to me to even speak to. Get out of my face."

When his little speech was done and the startled masses ran off with an added glare, protests held on the tip of tongues, Jason slumped back against the tree, taking small comforts in the silent support of his two companions.

Adrien never approached. That was for the best.

His friend group was also something new. Marc, Juleka, Chloe, and Kagami. The group technically leaned more female than anything, but after the heavy masculine energy of his old life, this turn of events felt refreshing. It helped that Marc came out as nonbinary and Jason couldn't help but relate in a way with his view of this body fitting as female, but his mind staying firmly male. Altering his soulmate's body to fit would never happen, but it also didn't match him. 

The group only grew stronger and more resilient after Jason agreed to revealing identities in the team. After the loss of Mari and the stripping of the ring from Adrien, Jason found it necessary to place new permanent holders. With Kagami and Chloe having screwed up their original hero personas, the placement became a challenge. 

He started out with figuring out his new cat. 

Talking it over with Fu and dragging the decision out way longer than it needed to, he eventually convinced the old guardian of Kagami's worth. She took to Plagg with ease, the design of her look altering to match. The suit stayed all black but wasn't leather and had gold detailing. The ears and tail looked more realistic as well. Her hair went pitch black and eyes went to shades of gold. Kagami insisted her new name be Serval.

Next came Chloe who ended up comforting Jason the most through his despair, whether she knew the reason for it or not. Without the bee as an easy go to, he ended up giving her the Dragon. Sure, the mix wasn't the best ever, but it kept her on the offensive side and more active, so it worked the way they needed it to. Her outfit consisted of tight fitted scales in shades of black and blue. Unlike when Kagami used the dragon, her and Longg took more to the shades of blue that came with most weather. Her shock of blonde hair played nicely with the idea of lightening on a stormy day. She went with Nimbus.

Surprisingly, Marc became the next holder. Jason planned on handing off the fox to Juleka, only to realize it wouldn't quite suit the girl. She stayed in the shadows most of the time, yes, but not really by choice. She wanted to be a model and show up in photos more than anything, so it made no sense to stick her with another identity she had to hide in. Add on the fact that she wasn't necessarily the most creative and well, Jason couldn't hand off an illusion piece to her. That's when Marc came into play. The kid had creativity in spades and preferred to avoid the spotlight. Marc and Marinette grew closer with all their time spent in the art room and courtyard together and especially with Nathaniel having ditched them. With Marc starting to build a spot of their own within the group, it only made sense to pair them with the Fox.

Now that he thought about it, the whole team really stuck with black. Marc had a black velvety almost shapeless form, with white tail, ears, sash, gloves, and boots. Their eyes fell white on gray on black and gave off an eerie feel. They choose Jocular for their hero name.

Finally, Jason hunted down the perfect miraculous for Juleka. The mouse. Quiet and unseen, playing in the background until the moment was right. And then she was everywhere, a multitude taking over the scene and overwhelming the enemy in a matter of moments. Perfect for the girl who hid behind her bangs but longed for the spotlight. Mullo played to both halves of her personality. The suit that came with consisted of a deep vivid purple that matched her bangs while detransformed. While in costume, the highlights disappeared and her eyes shined purple as well. The fit was reminiscent of a belted, hooded tunic with black leggings and matching purple booties. She went with Fievel. Turns out Juleka had an interesting favorite childhood movie. Months later, they would find themselves sitting around a tv, watching the old animated musical, but in the beginning, they just took it in stride.

The last major change came in a heavier bond forming amongst his team.

When Jason agreed to reveal identities, if for no other reason than the guilt of already keeping one major secret from the group, things spiced up. For one, Juleka and Marc traded their respective miraculouses back and forth depending on their comfort level for the day. If one felt more ready for the spotlight, they took to the mouse for the battle. If one felt especially creative at the moment, they tagged in for the fox. Of course, they jumped in with whichever they had when an akuma hit while separated, but the switch off seemed to comfort them.

Secondly, Chloe started running more interference to allow them escape time if stuck up in civilian form. Her false bratty attitude and daddy issues came into play here, despite her actual maturity about both. It helped to amp it up from time to time.

Lastly, Kagami and Jason begin to switch on occasion.

Plagg hadn't been outside the ring since Jason removed him from Adrien and Kagami received him. The shock and horror on his face when Tikki told him the reality of their situation broke Jason a little more. The cat insisted on spending more time with Jason after that. His soul resonated better with the ring anyways, so the time spent as the cat holder felt soothing after so long as the ladybug, despite this body feeling more receptive towards Tikki's magic. 

As an added bonus, the two kept the other's costume and attributes such as eyes and hair. Between that and the heavy magical glamour hiding their identities, no one, not even Hawkmoth, knew which one was which until their fighting style came into play at which point, it was too late. Luckily, with the sneaky aspects of the mouse and fox, the other two became quite the ambush as well. Add in Chloe showing up with one of three different powers at any given moment, and Hawkmoth's akumas became easy prey.

By the time the year ran out, their team ran as a well oiled machine. Despite the horrific heartbreak festering in his heart, Jason felt hopeful. Hopeful that they might take down the villain that had taken over his soulmate's life from so young. That this battle at least might end on a happy note. That soon he would be free to seek out justice for Marinette once and for all.

[bluesfortheredj]

Four Plus One.

A/N: Is that not the most corny title you’ve ever read in your life? So sorry I couldn’t think of anything better, but here’s a Four x Reader for you. Anyway, wishing you all a happy, healthy, and safe New Year! Lots of love x

It was no secret that two and three were fucking, especially with how obnoxiously loud they were when they did it, but things had changed recently between them both, and you noticed how the raw animalistic urges had given way to something that resembled what you could remember about love; the affectionate touches as they passed one another, the glances to check the other was okay, it all added up to something much deeper than just sex now.

“What are you thinking?” Four asks as he sits down with a huff next to you.

“Oh god, it’s him again,” you reply dryly as you continue to look straight ahead instead of at his mesmerising green orbs that drove you to distraction whenever you looked into them.

“Rude.”

“What else do you expect from me?” you scoff.

“Nothing less,” he chuckles, “that’s why I love ya. Like ya… It’s why I like you… I put up with you because I have to...”

“Right...”

Did he really just trip up on those words like that? He must be tired, drunk, or high right now.

“You high?” you ask, finally turning to face him.

“Stone cold sober, babe.”

“Well shit, you had a bang to the head?”

“Probably.”

“That’s alright then. Don’t want you getting mushy on me now.”

Mostly because you wouldn’t be able to resist if he came onto you, and you’d definitely get your heart broken because you’re all officially dead and dead people don’t date. That’s what you kept repeating to yourself anyway, especially when two and three were acting as if shit like this could work.

“As if,” Four sighs, “so, uh...”

“Better get prepping for this suicide mission, eh?” you say as you stand up wipe the dust from your clothes.

“It’s not a suicide mission.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Go on then. If we survive then I’m taking you to dinner and booking us a hotel for the night.”

“I’m not even gonna ask what the hotel room is for… You’ve got some strange shit going on in your head.”

“Yeah? You think I don’t see you watching two and three? You think I don’t see that terrified look in your eyes when you look at me because you feel exactly the same as I do about you? I see it, I see it all the time. Sometimes I just wish you’d stop acting like a heartless bitch when you clearly ain’t!”

“Fuck off Four.”

You walk away quickly with your fists clenched to try and stop the tears that are forming in your eyes at the fact that he’d just completely called you out on everything you’d worked so hard to hide, and as soon as you go into the next room you’re taking your anger out on the walls around you.

“So, Four’s confessed his undying love huh?” One questions when he enters the room after hearing the racket you were making.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Ohhh, shit, and you love him back! Fuck, I owe five and seven like a thousand dollars each now.”

“Don’t even-”

“Hey, listen, just calm down for a sec, yeah? It’s not the end of the world.”

“Feels like it.”

“You think loving someone is the end of the world? Damn, what happened to you when you were alive? Actually, don’t answer that, I couldn’t give less of a shit. Moral of the story is; you should let him make sweet love to you, it might actually put a smile on that sour face.”

“Such a great pep talk,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s why I’m number one,” he grins before leaving.

Dickhead. Anyway, you had more important things to think about, like your role in tonight’s plan and memorising exactly where you needed to be on that yacht and when you needed to be there. Everyone was in the same sort of head space and only two and three were huddled together as they went over the plan. One made sure you each knew what you were doing then it was go time, and a heavy cloud of burden hung over all of you as you got into your places; quietly letting each other know when you were in position.

You listen for Four’s voice as everything kicks off with a literal bang and as you grip onto the nearest safe thing you can find while One does his magnet trick, you pray that Four is okay. Minutes tick by as you make your way around the outside of the deck, taking out people as you come across them, then finally you hear him as he boards the yacht, and sigh with relief at that familiar accent coming through into your ear. The others find their way inside the ship while you and Four distract those on the outer decks, but he soon gets overwhelmed without a proper weapon, and his calls for help turn quickly into pained groans.

“Where are you?” you shout back.

“I…” he’s cut off by a thump and another moan.

“Just one word, Four, give me one word!” you yell in desperation as you run aimlessly from one end of the boat to the other.

“Pool,” he exhales quietly, and you know you’re running out of time.

“You got him?” One asks.

“I’m on my way,” you reply as the blueprints of the vessel run quickly through your mind.

You run to the upper decks when finally you come across two men attacking someone on the ground; their arm clearly broken from the angle it was laying at.

“Got him,” you say as your finger squeezes the trigger of your gun.

“Is he alive?” One responds.

“He’s… Yes… Just about...” you reply.

You’re on your knees next to him, the bright green of his eyes now a dull and murky shade after almost having the life beaten out of him, and you cradle his head gently whilst trying to avoid looking at his broken arm that lay limp at his side.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you brush his hair back to comfort him as tears begin to sting your eyes.

“(Y/N)-”

“Shh, it’s alright, it can wait. Tell me when we’re safe. Just rest, okay? Just rest.”

His eyes close as the smallest hint of a smile tugs at his lips, and the next few hours pass in a shell-shocked blur of getting justice then much needed medical attention.

“He’s going to be okay,” One whispers as he passes you once you’ve all been dropped at your secure location, “you won’t break him if you fuck him.”

“Thank you so much for that,” you reply sarcastically.

“You’re so very welcome… (Y/N).”

He gives you the most sincere expression you’d ever seen him give, then he nods to you before carrying on towards a waiting car, and when you turn around to see where Four is, you find him right behind you waiting.

“Woah,” you gasp, his cuts now cleaned, and his eyes as bright as they were before.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to act casual.

“Sorry for saying you acted like a heartless bitch by the way...”

“Don’t be. It’s true,” you shrug, “sorry for acting like one.”

“And…?” he smirks.

“And… Pushing you away when I shouldn’t have.”

“And…?”

“Now you’re just taking the piss.”

“I am,” he laughs, “so what are you gonna do to make it up to me?”

“Ha! You’re such a cheeky bastard sometimes.”

“But it’s why you love me...” he winks.

“It’s true, it is why I love you… Billy,” you smile.

“(Y/N),” he breathes with a smile, finally hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips.

You press a soft kiss to his mouth and he’s quick to deepen it while holding you with his good arm, but you break it before you lean against the arm that’s now strapped to his front with a sling.

“Sorry, I just don’t want to hurt you,” you explain.

“You never could,” he replies with a grin, tucking you into his side as you both walk into a new chapter of your lives together.

[spiltscribbles]

omg hi i don't know if i was able to send my request to you cos my wifi sucks but could you write "things you said while I cried in your arms" and/or "things you said when you thought I was asleep" for alex and henry? :) loved your last one so much!!

~Notes: I’m so sorry I never posted this here my love🥺 But I hope you enjoy this!!!  A REBLOG IS WORTH A thouSANd STARS!

.-

Things You Said  |  Prompts Closed

.-

When Henry was being brought up— back before his father’s abrupt death and before he understood the sadness in his mother’s eyes and before the very act of attending family dinners had begun to feel like crossing into enemy territory— the Fox Mountchristen Windsors would spend their summers in the family estate, Mertylewood, in northern Hampshire. Back then Henry had thunk the manner there was a Neverland of sorts, otherworldly and magical and totally untouched by the underhanded dealings and suffocating sophistication required by the life of a royal.

Mertylewood was wide and sweeping, with boundless rooms with air that always smelt like a cocktail of  hickory and bonfires and the gossamer his mother had always favored. It was surrounded  by green pastures and flower meadows for miles, divorced completely from  any of the uneasiness back home, and Henry had always relished in the anonymity of it all. A respite from a life composed of expectations, doused in the ever appraising public eye,  and strung together by the looming threat  of the responsibility to the family name.  It was the closest thing to home he’s ever known.

Mertylewood was the place where his mother taught him how to knit, their hands folded into one another’s and her long arms encircling his narrow frame. It was where Phillip stopped being such a god forsaken wanker all the god damn time and taught him how to aim while shooting with his bow and arrows. It’s where Beatrice looked lightest, most carefree, where she forgot about the judgmental glances by the gaggle of tube sock wearing, nasally sounding girls she claims are her friends. It was where she and Henry would stay up all night long listening to her favorite records, and painting their nails ridiculous colors and laughing for absolutely no reason at all. But most importantly, Mertylewood was the one place where none of the cameras or tabloids  or reporters got even a slice of their family, including  Henry’s father, his hero. His father who always told Henry that while Arthur might’ve been in the movie business, Henry was the brightest star of them all. His father who loved them all so thoroughly that Henry could never forget it, even when the shine to his smile or precise shade of blue to his eyes began to fade. His father who spent the afternoons in Mertylewood with Henry riding their horses and chasing the sunlight. Afternoons where Henry felt like time would never end.

Their favorite spot to stop and rest  was a tiny alcove on the cusp of the property, right where the trees met the mouth of the river, and where the sunlight refracted against the tree tops and sod  to make them look like they were ablaze. Henry had thought that it was something magical, something that could never be replicated. He knows now, a decade and a half removed, that he was wrong. He sees the same blaze in Alex Claremont Diaz’s chestnut eyes whenever he’s determined, excited for a challenge even if it’s something as stupid as a staring contest that he refuses for Henry to win. He thinks Alex is the personification of that wonderment Henry had once  felt as a naive boy, and is blown away by him all over again.

“Oy! I saw that!” Alex suddenly crows, leaping up from his seat on their sofa in the Brownstone Henry had bought to start their lives together, topping it off with some ridiculous dance from some ridiculous app that in all seriousness Alex shouldn’t even have considering that it was created  by a hostile government literally spying on it’s users. “You blinked Henryson! I win!”

“I did not do anything of the sort!” Henry reproves with no real heat, too busy trying not to gaze  longingly at Alex’s swinging hips in those sweatpants.

God it’s so fucking unfair that his boyfriend is so hot, and even more unfair that Henry is so God damn weak for him.

“Ah c’mon sour patch,” Alex pretends to  croon, beginning to pepper sloppy kisses down the column of Henry’s neck, unwittingly making it so Henry arches up towards him. “I know it’s not really part of you royals’ MO, but a deal is a deal.”

“Says the first son of a nation which rebelled over some taxes,” Henry scoffs, can’t help the snicker that bubbles out or the dazed way he feels over the gleam in Alex’s eyes.

“Spare me babe, you love it when I’m a rebel,” Alex goads, far too cheeky and far too endearing all at once. He’s a living contradiction that Henry would spend an eon trying to figure out, but for now, Henry momentarily loses all thought when Alex, the sneak,  slips a sly hand into his shirt, and swipes his fingers against bare skin— a whisper, a promise for something more.

Henry has fallen for a bastard, God save the queen.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Alex pretends to  croon, presses an open mouth kiss to Henry’s own. In turn, henry only responds by swinging his head back and willing himself not to get all heated like he were some fucking schoolboy with his first crush over being a fully fledged adult lounging around in his home with his fucking fiance of all people. His annoying ass, smug as all get out fiance, but his fiancé all the same.

“I took’r out to shit last time!” Henry grouses, greedily pulls Alex back closer when he starts to detach himself.

“I seem to remember that you offered last time,” Alex says with a pointed hiking to his dark brow, dips down to trade another snog like he couldn’t help it, as if he felt a fraction for what Henry felt for him. “And then you lost this time around, so.”

“I’m not use to all this manual labor while i’m in America,” Henry tries for broke,  immediately regrets the quip when he sees the way it makes Alex’s entire countenance go smug and his button nose turn up in such a shrewd fashion that it inspires a whole slew of maddening emotions to chorus within him, ninety percent of which being that he’d really like to get Alex naked. Nine percent wanting to kiss him so hard that it falls off, and the remaining one percent being a mental note to text June about some face masks for him to get rid of the blackheads speckled around  there.

“Shut it Alexander,” Henry opts to  say, faux aggrieved as he slips out of his embrace and picks up Eleanor’s leash. “I’ll take her out if you just promise not to speak out loud any of the various innuendos you’ve surely devised in that cryptic place you call a brain.”

“Rude.” Alex sniffs.

“I reckon that’s a deal?” Henry presses.

“You run a hard bargain,” Alex nods, unflinching and far too  serious. Truly,  Henry must be completely off his rocker considering that he’s not only helplessly in love with this boy, but he’s been lost on him since before he could remember. Sometimes his chest feels like it’s going to burst with the love he feels for him, knows that he can be shit at showing it, quieter than Alex’s grand gestures and loud proclamations, but Alex knows. Alex knows how the love Henry holds for him runs deeper than all the oceans, and more expansive than this galaxy. He knows that Henry considers him his person, that what he feels for Alex is unparalleled by any other, insurmountable in its daunting expanse but what keepsHenry grounded nonetheless. And that’s the most important part out of all of this.

“I’ll make you some tea for when you guys get back,” Alex offers, grin a supernova that Henry had once been terrified to burn against.

“If I end up dead in a gutter and the local news reports that I was a decent man, you promise to get me one of the nicer candles for my wake, won’t you? The one’s with a wooden wick?” Henry asks, only partly kidding.

“Don’t be silly babe,” Alex laughs, mock magnanimous. “With those cheekbones? You’d never end up on local news, primetime would be fools not to plaster that pretty face all over!”

Henry frowns before pecking a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I’m so glad I’ve got such a strong support system at home Alexander.”

“You know it baby.”

.-

When Henry had been six and Beatrice a fresh ten year’s old their parents had taken them to see a peculiar show on Westend which featured odd musical numbers, a Mary Poppins like nanny, and a set of twins whom were able to read one another’s minds. Henry was so very confused by the whole ordeal, but Beatrice was downright ebullient over it. She had spent that entire spring trying to train  them to learn how to do the very same. Predictably, it was a spring full of scraped knees and random bruises and a twisted ankle. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, their connection is so clairvoyant that Henry privately thinks that somehow Beatrice’s persistence had somehow forged the bond out of sheer force of will.

Exhibit A, while Henry walks down the brisk streets of the city— or well, less walking and more being dragged by the ninety pound Labrador he and Alex had adopted nearly a year ago now— he feels his phone buzz, and when he opens it he finds a message from Beatrice. Just a short phrase coupled with a photograph that punches the air right out of him.

B: Sometimes I miss it

The attachment is a picture of the five of them, Henry and Beatrice with Phillip and their parents, on Mertylewood’s veranda. The photograph was taken on a day where the light shimmered, making it so Henry and their mother’s golden hair shone right through. Henry and his siblings were in matching trousers and tops, while his parents were caught mid laugh. It looked like what you’d see plastered all over the trashy magazine covers that were obsessed with their family to a morbid degree.

Henry remembers the precise moment the photograph was taken. Remembers how his father spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out the camera settings so that it would take an automatic shot. Remembers Phillip and Beatrice bickering about a butterfly she had caught and he had let go free. Henry remembers his mother carding a ginger hand through his tousled hair, the both of them always having been more reserved than the others and sharing the trait like a lifeline in the chaos of it all. Henry remembers how after they had finally gotten a good collection for their grandmother to sift through in the midst of deciding which would make it on that year’s Christmas collage for the paper, Arthur had tossed Henry on his shoulder, and slung an arm around Catherine’s hip and beckoned the two oldest along for them to go out for sundaes and eat them by the peer.

It’s one of the last truly happy memories Henry has before his father’s diagnosis, a snapshot of resplendence that would never last.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been staring down at his phone, doesn’t notice that time had passed until he finally feels the salty droplets cascading down and splashing against the screen. And shit, it’s been over an hour since he’s left. It was only meant to be a walk around the block for Eleanor to stretch out her legs before bed. Damn it, Alex is probably worried sick.

With a shuttering breath, Henry slowly shuts off his phone, looks up to find that he recognizes the apartment complex they’ve stumbled in front of, miraculously only five minutes away from his and Alex’s place.

“Thank Jesus,” Henry mutters before softly tugging Eleanor away from a hydrant and making the trek back home, stomach twisted up in knots over how Alex must feel.

His suspicions are confirmed when the pair of them make it back home and are greeted by the sight of a peeved off looking  Alex, only clad in his pajama bottoms and a frown.

“You could’ve called,” he says, bends down to ruffle a hand into an excited Eleanor’s fur.

“I know.” Henry says, utterly apologetic.

“Dude I thought you really were gonna end up needing that fucking candle,” Alex tells him.

“I— I’m sorry.”

Henry’s not sure if it was the stutter he let out just then, or if he finally had gotten close enough for Alex to spot the wetness tracing down his cheeks, but almost immediately Alex’s expression goes stunned, then confused, followed by angry until it lands on something painfully contrite.

“Baby,” he says in a hush, and the open way that word comes out of him— pleading and hurt and wanting all at once— is enough for a new round of tears to flood Henry’s eyes and for his body to begin trembling while his heart  lodges up into his rapidly shutting throat.

Henry thanks his every star that he’s got Alex. That he has someone he can trust so implicitly, so thoroughly that he isn’t afraid when his brain shuts off and he just falls into his fiancé’s embrace, plunging his face into the juncture of Alex’s head and shoulder and just sobs, let’s the sadness just swallow him whole and lets himself remember his father and remember his family and remember when everything had been so effortless.

Somehow, seamlessly, Alex carts him and their pup indoors, helps Henry shed himself of his jacket and shoes before pressing him down onto their bed, and wraps him up into his favorite blanket. Henry absently knows that when Alex leaves him to his solitude it’s because he has to make sure Eleanor is taken care of and has to shut down everything around the house, but that doesn’t stop Henry’s  yearning for him, nor does it stop him for feeling so painstakingly alone.

When Alex comes back it’s with a glass of water, and a bowl of fruit, and a cup of hot coco because he knows that’s what Beatrice makes him whenever Henry is feeling especially sad. Henry wonders if Alex knows it’s an old tradition started by their father whenever their mother had gotten the same way. He’d like to tell him, but feels so very tired that he can’t fathom moving his lips to form around the words, resolves to explain it another day.

“You’re back,” Henry says, hates how desperate he sounds, wishes he weren’t so very inept.

“I love you,” Alex answers, his smile still so fucking bright and his hands so soft as he climbs into bed with him, props Henry’s head on his chest and kisses the line where his hair begins.

Henry starts to cry all over again, and Alex only repeats the affirmation, moves to telling him funny stories of when he and June were younger when that doesn’t work, and then starts to rant about his hellish constitutional law professor because he knows that Henry wants nothing more than a distraction.

Tomorrow Henry will show him the photograph, and Alex will understand  because he knows Mertylewood, hell he’s spent a handful of weeks over there. Then Henry will tell him more stories in exchange for the ones Alex had given him tonight. Then Henry will explain the hot chocolate thing and Alex will listen and laugh and nod and kiss Henry in all the right parts. And Henry will just fall in love with him all over again. Tomorrow Alex will ask if they could have their wedding in Mertylewood because he wants Henry to be reminded of that happiness always, and also because he thinks it’ll act as some sort of tribute to Arthur. Henry won’t say yes right away but he’ll think it, and it will be better, because Alex always makes it better. But for now it doesn’t have to be better, and Henry is so thankful he understands that.

“I really love you Henry, you know that?” Alex asks hours later when the tears have dried away and they’re doing nothing but mapping out the patches of skin on one another’s bodies— reverent  and unhurried and just because they need to be touching one another.

Henry wants to make a joke, thinks that on any other night he’d retort with a playful barb without a second thought, but he can’t make himself do so tonight, it all feels too raw, too real, too fragile.

“I love you  Alexander,” he says instead, cuddles closer to him. “For forever and a day.”

“Forever and a day.” Alex confirms and they fall asleep like that,  tangled in forever and one another and all their tomorrows.

.-

Buy Me A Coffee?💜

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

// Hi, don’t mind me, just tag dumping.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 9 Part 2

Posting a little early today!

Mention of guns.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 9, cont. 2019

Sunday, six days until Armageddon

The shadows were long in the garden. It was summer, and the sun had begun to think about slipping placidly beneath the skyline. The leaves of the apple tree dappled the orange light upon the lawn. They swayed in a humid breeze.

A glum-looking ten-year-old sat swinging his legs on the sturdiest branch. Next to him, coiled up and listening intently, was a large black snake.

“She said it made me look grown-up.” The boy gave a careworn laugh.

“Ugh,” said the snake, sympathetically.

“She’s a grown-up, and she gets to keep her hair long. I told her, I’m growing it for a reason. Don’t want everyone staring at this stupid thing all day, do I?”

Adam gloomily scratched his close-cropped hair. His nails raked the base of a red, curled horn on the left side of his head.

“Tarquin’s going to be here, and he’s gonna call me rhinoceros-head all day.”

“Headbutt him,” suggested Crowley.

“I did once, and his dad threatened to sue.”

That sounded about right, from what Crowley gathered about the Dowlings’ social set.

“I don’t get why she wants me to be normal and not head-butt people, but then she takes me down to a weird old barber who smells like dad when she’s throwing a fancy dinner, and shaves all my hair off. I’m practically bald now. It’s all everyone’s going to talk about.”

“Weeell.” Crowley wiggled his head from side to side. “You know, being the birthday kid has its perks.”

Adam gave him a withering look. “Like what, getting the secret service to karate chop them? I’ve tried that, too. Nobody listens to me.” He sighed, theatrically.

Crowley said nothing. Adam clearly hadn’t grasped that what he had just said was categorically untrue.

“Sometimes they really don’t listen,” Adam mused. He tilted back to stare into the leaves. “Like, they can’t hear me. Like someone’s scooped their brains out.”

Crowley’s long body gave a nervous twitch.

“Once I asked Dad if he used to hear voices at night, too, and he screamed.” Adam looked disturbed in remembrance. “Like he’d stayed up all night watching fifteen-rated movies. That’s how scared he looked. And then he looked at me and it was like he forgot what had just happened, and he looked confused and scared. And then he smiled and asked me what I wanted for my birthday.” Adam shook his head in disgust.

Crowley was unsurprised. The mental disintegration of the remaining humans left in this place was a long time in the mix. There was only so much memory erasure, perception alteration, and of course walking in on eldritch horrors using the bathroom,[1] that the human mind could take. The demons had got bolder the more their numbers grew. The last human staff member had broken down, weeping, five months ago, and been promptly replaced by a motivated imp. The only people, besides the Dowlings, who had stayed on were secret service members, though turnover was still high, and the men and women Crowley saw patrolling the grounds stroked their guns for reassurance a lot, even by American standards.

If Crowley had been in charge of this operation - just saying - the whole thing would have been handled discreetly, with subtlety and finesse. But Hastur simply loved being cartoonishly appalling, so there they were.

“Thing is,” Adam said, “I don’t even know what I want for my birthday.”

Crowley was aware what one present in particular would be. They’d all been briefed on it at the beginning of the week. He spied on Adam from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about getting a pet?” he said, so nonchalantly the words strolled out in a smoking jacket, lighting up.

“Oh yeah. I could get a real snake.” Adam brightened.

Crowley was offended. “Rude. Just saying.”

“It is a bit weird, though. Having an imaginary talking snake. Nobody else does. It’s probably because they’ve all got pets and brothers and sisters and stuff. I could get a snake with a machine gun in its mouth.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Or, a snake that shoots poison out of a machine gun.”

Crowley didn’t bother to point out that some snakes could spit poison without the aid of a machine gun attachment.

“You’ll never get a real snake that talks to you,” he said.

Adam shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You’re not really talking. I’m making up your half of the conversation, aren’t I? I’m really just talking to myself.”

Crowley could say nothing to that.

“Be nice not to have to talk to myself for once,” Adam muttered.

Crowley couldn’t fault him for that. He’d missed a lot of things, the past seventy-eight years. High on the list was someone to talk to. The closest thing he had to a conversation partner was a boy who didn’t even believe he was real. And who was going to bring all life on the planet to an end later that week.

~*~

Wednesday, three days until Armageddon

Crowley skulked around the edge of the lawn, glaring at anyone who looked like they wanted a canape.

The Dowling’s back garden had been taken over by a marquee the size of a small chapel. The sweet, piping voices of children rent the air, while their parents milled, schmoozed and mingled. Many of them gave confused looks to the rows of decapitated stems in the flower beds. Ligur had been busy.

Crowley’s white waiter’s coat was stiff as a straightjacket, which suited him fine. What a bloody awful decade this had been. He was keen to see the back of it. Less keen to see the back of literally everything else.

Shit. He didn’t want the apocalypse. But there was nothing he could do. Even if he’d come up with some feeble plan to nudge the whole thing off-course, he was alone down here. The last time he’d had an ally he could have turned to for aid, Britain was at war with Germany. It would have been a stupid plan, anyway. Never would have worked, whatever it would have been. The only thing that would have made it worthwhile would have been Aziraphale’s company while they worried away the last eleven years. Well, so much for that. It had been a toe-curling span of gradually hunching in on himself to contain his unvoiced scream. Frankly, he might as well try to feel relief that it was finally over. So long, Earth. It’s been real.

He looked up and saw the cherry on the sundae. Hastur and Ligur, each in a grubby version of Crowley’s server outfit, hulked up the lawn towards him.

“Hi guys,” he said as they reached him.

“Get in the marquee. We need eyes on the boy,” Hastur growled. Not so much as a howdy. Whatever.

Crowley nodded. The children were all being entertained in the marquee at present. The pre-adolescent shrieks had all concentrated in there for the past twenty minutes. Crowley was surprised none of his people were in there. For the last three days, the only glimpses he’d got of Adam were through a phalanx of demons flanking him. He secretly missed their bedtime chats.

“No-one else available?” he asked.

Hastur looked nauseated. “The bastards all fled. Nobody could stand to be in there.”

Crowley frowned. “I know children’s parties can be grim, guys, but we all knew what we were signing up for.”

“Nobody signed up to watch a godawful magician,” Ligur spat.

Crowley kept his face carefully blank. His stomach turned cartwheels.

“Really? That awful?”

“Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hastur looked haunted. This was a demon who volunteered for extra guard duty in Dis whenever they needed cheering up.

Crowley’s heartbeat picked up. There were, surely, lots of terrible magicians specialising in children’s birthday parties. Most of them, in fact. He shouldn’t let his imagination run away with him.

Hastur pulled themself[2] together. They leered at Crowley.

“Get in there, then.”

“Enjoy,” Ligur smirked.

They slunk away. Crowley ran a hand through his hair. He squared his shoulders and strutted towards the marquee at a controlled saunter. His steps only wobbled when he got close enough to brush the tent flap with his outstretched hand.

A posh, desperate voice prattled away inside. Crowley’s insides somersaulted.

He slipped into the tent.

A smattering of bored children sat on the floor at the front of the stage. The long-suffering secret service stood at intervals around the edges of the space.

At the front of the room, mugging in a dusty frock-coat and a pencilled-on moustache, was a face that Crowley knew better and more dearly than any on Earth.

He swallowed. Behind his shades, he blinked, hard.

It was Aziraphale.

---

[1] Demons were terrible about locking the door, and all other basic courtesies. It was a matter of unprinciple.

[2] Hastur viewed all human progressive values with bewildered contempt. However, their time in a female corporation had sparked a glimmer of self-knowledge, and they now embraced gender-fluidity. This did not affect their grooming habits in any way.

(Link to next part)

[9r7g5h]

Her Little Garthy

Fandom: Fantasy High

Rating: K

Genre: General

Summary:  In which a previous Ayda gains her child.

Words: 2097

Disclaimer: I do not own Fantasy High.

AN: So, Garthy specifically stated that they were from Zajiri celestials, and they’re a half orc. While Ayda could be their bio mother, Ayda has also said in her notes that she hasn’t been in love with anyone for at least the last three lifetimes, spanning the last 150 years. Garthy is nowhere near that old, and Ayda is half phoenix, not related to the Zajiri at all, while Garthy also exhibits no bird-like features. So, best conclusion is adopted families and with the cuteness of Jawbone adopting Adaine, this went ahead and popped out as well.

Ayda Aguefort legitimately wasn’t used to people being inside of her library. Other than Roland, who she had hired many, many years ago as a young man, it was common for her to pass her many days reading and writing and studying without seeing a single other soul. Silence, broken only by the sound of her quill on paper and the rustle of pages, the occasional thunk as she dropped a book back into place, her hands getting a bit too old for the larger of them.

It was nice, in a way. She was old, early fifties by her count, as inaccurate as it was, since she didn’t have an exact date of her last reincarnation. The person she had hired, according to her notes, to take care of her had skipped out when she was young, leaving Roland for the task he was woefully unprepared for. But he had taught her to read and write and use the magic within her, all the things her absent father should have done, so she was grateful, to him and for the silence. She knew she was off, knew something about her seemed strange to others, and so she accepted and enjoyed the silence for what it was.

Except, now, there was an orc woman standing in her library. Clearly suffering from exhaustion, weakened by some unknown affliction Ayda would have to study later, and, most obvious and concerning, coated in blood both her own and not. Her clothes were tattered, clearly showing signs of the fight she had most likely been in just a short while before, especially since her sword was still dripping blood onto the wood of Ayda’s library.

She was also cradling an infant in her other arm, another thing that intrigued Ayda, but that would have to wait for further examination.

“Please,” the orc woman said, holding out the infant to Ayda. “Please, take her.”

Ayda had had very little interaction with children in this life, though a previous one who had made children of various species their subject of investigation had left incredibly detailed notes. So she knew how to cradle the child’s head with her elbow, keeping the infant face up so it could breathe, the runes on her arms flaring slightly to produce the extra heat something so small would most certainly need.

It was so tiny. Fascinating.

“Do you require assistance?” Ayda asked once she had made sure the child was secure, her mind content that said task was complete. “I am not a healer, but I can escort you to-“

“No,” the orc woman said, even as she unsteadily lowered herself to the floor. “No, please, just, let’s just stay inside. No one will bother us here.”

Ayda wanted to ask what the orc woman meant, but there was also part of her that could take a very well-educated guess as to what she was talking about. Ayda was considered weird here on the Leviathan, an anomaly, a magic user amongst all of the pirates that focused on swords and their primitive miniature cannons. Sure, there were some pirates that knew a bit of magic, enough to call up a wind to fill their sails, or those druids who were trying to grow a garden on the north western side of the city, but nothing like her.

There was nothing like her anywhere.

Except, to an extent, the infant she was now holding in her arms.

It was clear the child was a celestial, probably from one of the angelic fiends that inhabited orcish religions. Zajiri, if she had to take a guess, though she would have to reexamine the child and compare the brief mental notes she had taken to the books she knew she had, second floor, twelfth row on the left side of the library. Maybe she could convince the mother to let her borrow the child for a bit, later, when she wasn’t slowly leaking a large puddle of blood.

“Are you sure you do not require assistance? I am available to help if you require it.” For, of course, a fair and reasonable price, but Ayda had been taught to not bring that up when someone was in obvious danger. It was rude, and could potentially hold up events that needed to happen at a quicker pace.

Still, the orc woman shook her head.

“No, I’m alright,” the woman said. She took a few deep breathes, placed her hand over her lower stomach, and the puddle of blood stopped growing as a low light glowed from her hand. A healer, then. “I just needed somewhere safe to rest for a bit.” She stopped for a moment, looked at Ayda. “I’ve heard what you can do. What kind of person you are. Figured you wouldn’t hurt a baby, and could maybe help ward off those who would.”

Ayda gave a jerky nod of her head, adjusting her arm as her shoulder started to feel sore. She disliked violence, though she was well versed in quite a number of spells to protect herself and her library as necessary. She had actually just been working on one a short while before, to help with the unraveling of someone’s very essence. A work in progress, but it showed promise.

“Your child is a celestial.” A statement, though perhaps with the slightest bit of a question behind it.

“As are you,” the orc woman said back, giving a small shrug. “Don’t know what you are,” she added, “but mine at least isn’t a bird.”

Ayda gave a squawk of laughter, finding humor in the orc woman’s statement, she following with a chuckle of her own shortly after.

“It’s funny, because I’m only part bird, and your child doesn’t seem to have any bird within them,” Ayda explained, the orc woman giving a nod at her explanation. No other words, but still the nod made her feel warm inside, at least for a moment. “Is that why you came here, because of our shared heritage from the celestial realms? If you’re looking for information on your child’s legacy, I could be of some service.”

A shake of the head, the orc woman’s previous brief smile disappearing. “You’re strong, right?”

Another jerky nod from Ayda.

“Strong enough to protect a baby, if anyone should try to harm it?”

Another jerky nod, though this one with confusion.

“I am not sure why anyone would try to harm a child, especially in the presence of a wizard, but if you need my help keeping this one safe, I would be happy to help. Do you require this assistance?”

“Good,” the orc woman said. After another moment of sitting, she forced herself to rise, Ayda rising with her, not even aware of when she had sat on the floor to be face to face with this strange orc woman, the child still in her hands. “Look,” the orc woman continued, stretching out the soreness in her muscles that remained even after the healing, “there some asshole out there, James Whitclaw or some shit, who wants to eat my baby’s brains. Kidnapped me from my ship when the word got out that I was birthing something special, thinks it might help him become king or something someday. I’ll be damned before I let that bastard touch that skull, but I’m badly outnumbered. I won’t ask you to come with me, but no one will try to take my baby from you here. Will you watch her until I come back?”

Ayda paused for a moment, looking down at the child in her arms. Sleeping soundly, maybe a few hours old, still wrinkly and that weird newborn orcish green before it settled into its permanent shade.

“Will you allow me to research your child during this time, until you return for it?”

The orc woman snorted and nodded her agreement. “Thought you might say that, from what I’ve heard of ya.”

“Then by the seven seas and the twelve stars and the nine hells, I will care for your child as my own until you have returned to claim it.” Ayda’s runes flared as she spoke her oath, the orc woman satisfied with that response.

“Let me see her real quick then,” the orc woman said, holding out her arms. Ayda was careful handing the child over, watching curiously as the orc woman sniffed the infant’s head, held it close to her chest, and placed a quick kiss on its forehead, causing it to coo and murmur in its sleep.

A brief pang of jealousy, that Ayda quickly forgot about as the child was returned to her care.

“Garthy,” the orc woman said as she reached the door, not turning back. “The babe’s name is Garthy O’Brien.” And with that the orc woman was gone, sword on her should, prepared to go make the world a safer place for her child.

Ayda leaned down as the door closed shut and sniffed the infant’s head, her eyebrow raising as she smelled the strange scent the newborn gave off. Not the various odors one expected from a child, pleasant but not overly so. Fascinating.

“Well, Garthy,” Ayda said as she headed towards the stairs, shifting the child in her arms to a more comfortable position, “I have promised your mother that I would care for you as if you were my own. While I have never had children, as far as my knowledge of my past lives allows me, you are now legally mine until your mother returns. An hour? Maybe two? That should be enough time for me to study you, get a sense of your origins.”

At some point during her statement, one of Garthy’s large eye slid open, looking up at Ayda with sleep and curiosity in equal measures. Curious pupils, a wonderful color, just hinting at the mystic within the child, just waiting to be found.

Ayda leaned down and kissed Garthy on the forehead, the child quickly lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her runes, safe and warm until its mother returned.

***

Ayda Augefort legitimately wasn’t used to people being inside of her library. Other than Roland, who she had hired many, many years ago as a young man, it was common for her to pass her many days reading and writing and studying without seeing a single other soul. Other than, of course, her child, Garthy. A health ten years old, if she had to guess, though half orc aasimars weren’t her specialty, they were happy to spend their time sitting with her in her library, handing her the books that her hands were too old for, taking notes for when her eyes were beginning to fail her.

She hadn’t been the best of mothers, of course. She had been woefully unprepared for the challenges of raising a child, especially one that had been left with her by an orc woman in the middle of the night, once for the child to be left for what Ayda had to presume was the rest of their lives. The orc woman had never come back, and knowing the Leviathan and a smattering of statistics, it was highly unlikely she ever would.

But Ayda had taught Garthy how to read and write and how to use the magic within them, had learned to cook more then just a basic sandwich to feed her new child, and had even considered reaching out to Arthur to let him know about his new grandchild, though she had lost the nerve just before she had. So far she had given them all of the love that she could, in her own strange way of showing it, and Garthy was happy and healthy and seemed to be doing alright.

And by the seven seas and the twelve stars and the nine hells, until the day her next reincarnation was to come, she would make sure that was the case. She loved her little child, the small creature that had so quickly grown from the squalling infant, her little Garthy, and even in her next life, she would make sure that Ayda loved them too.

(And she would, even without the notes reminding her to love Garthy with all her heart, to love her child she couldn’t remember, Ayda would love them. Because Garthy would teach her how to reach and write and use the magic within her, and would love her with all of their heart, and even before Ayda could do so, as Garthy picked her newborn form out of the ashes, Ayda would love them.)

[heathsbitch]

THE ROYAL VISIT - r.s*

Scenario: The reader is a Baratheon (Technically a Lannister). She's four years older than Joffrey and goes with them to visit the Starks. But, there is one Stark in particular that catches her eye. (Little bit of an A/N, there are some inaccuracies regarding Robb's character. This gets rough and I don't think Robb could have it in him to call a woman a whore but anyways, enjoy...)

Warning: Large age-gap, smut, spanking, oral (M on F).

Word Count: 2673

"Behave yourselves." Cersei hissed at my siblings and I. The Baratheons and Lannisters were on a royal visit to Winterfell and the children were just trying to pass the time. "I bet you'll fall in love with Robb! And, and you'll have lots and lots of babies!" My younger sister, Myrcella, beamed. "Would you shut up?" Joffrey snapped with a scowl. I shot him a scolding look but turned back to my sister.

"I'm not falling in love with anyone, sister. Besides, he's far too old for me." The girl's face instantly dropped. "I wanted to see a royal wedding." She whined "You will one day, little dove. Just not this weekend." Our mother informed us.

The carriage came to a halt and the door opened, ready for us to step out. In all honesty, I was quite nervous. I'd never been great with social situations in the past, and being part of the royal family made things very difficult.

The Starks were an important family and my father was very close friends with Eddard Stark. There was a lot of pressure on that visit, one foot out of line and I could ruin everything. My mother didn't care, of course. She thought it was pointless, I did not agree.

I stepped out of the carriage to be met with piles of white powder. Snow. We didn't get snow in King's Landing, it was just sun. All of the time.

My feet landed on the pale substance on the floor and my eyes scanned the people surrounding us. They stopped. A man with dark hair and bright eyes stared back at me, a smirk played upon his lips. That must've been Robb Stark, the eldest of the Stark children, although he definitely wasn't a child.

My mother approached the Starks, her head held high. She held her hand out to Ned Stark and he leant down to kiss it. They exchanged a few words before she turned back to me. She gestured for me to stand next to her, so I did.

"My Lord, this is my eldest daughter, Y/N." My mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder and paraded me to the Starks. Our eyes met again. Robb continued to look at me as I was introduced to his family members. He showed me a small smiled and I returned his gesture.

I looked back towards my father and Ned Stark, they laughed and walked off. The two families were left out in the cold, leaderless. "Wouldn't it be nice if somebody could show us to our chambers?" My mother suggested. My eyes took one last side glance at Robb before we followed the squires up to the guest chambers.

Before I could move, though, somebody grabbed my arm. My body spun around to be met with the icy eyes of my brother. "Joffrey, what do you want?" I asked, slightly annoyed. "Don't go for the Northern scum, you're better than that." He warned and swaggered away. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, I casted his comment away and followed my family up to my chambers.

"You look amazing, my love." My mother told me as she took in my regal appearance. We had just gotten ready for the feast and we were prepared to 'dine with the wolves' as she phrased it.

All throughout the brief time I had been here, I couldn't seem to take my mind off of Robb. There was something in his eyes that was so intimidating yet comforting. Kind, yet dominant. He intrigued me and I hoped that I would be able to speak to him soon, even if the age-gap between us was huge.

Of course mother would never approve of my feelings towards the Stark so I had to be secretive about it, stealthy. If she found out, she would hang him and then me. My heart pounded against my chest, anxious for the night to come.

My mother, father, both brothers, my sister and I waltzed into the grand hall. Candles illuminated the room and voices bounced off of the walls. It was overwhelming, but incredible. A smile slipped onto my face as I continued my way into the hall.

Everybody stood up and the voices grew silent. Ned Stark's face beamed from the end of the hall, his arms open wide to welcome his friend. My father, the King, hugged Ned with a smile that was equal to his friend's.

"Let the feast begin." The Warden of the North announced as my family gradually started to find their seats. I was too busy taking in the unbelievable atmosphere and the sheer size of the hall to take my seat. My body turned back to the table to see that the only spare seat was in between Joffrey and Robb.

Great.

With a deep sigh, I walked over to my chair and sat down. "My Lady." Robb graciously said from next to me. My eyes turned to his gorgeous ones and I gave him a smile, "My Lord." I greeted back. I could almost hear my brother's eye roll from next to me but I tried to ignore him.

All throughout the meal, Joffrey would interrupt my conversations with Robb, either by nudging my arm or saying something stupid. "Y/N, you should not be fraternizing with the wolves, they are below us." My insolent brother muttered in my ear.

My head snapped around to meet him, "Joffrey, shut the fuck up. You're probably going to get betrothed to Sansa anytime soon so shut that asshole in you face that you call a mouth," I jeered under my breath so he would shut up.

Words stopped coming out of his mouth and his eyes were wide open. A deep grumble of laughter came from next to me. I twirled around to be met with the origin of the noise. Robb.

With a stunned expression on my face, I asked him "Did you hear all of that?" Eventually, he calmed down enough to be able to speak. "Yes. That is not how a Lady should act." He fake scolded me. "Well, I'm not an ordinary Lady." I quipped back with a smirk slapped across my lips.

"Is that so?" Robb tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth and I slowly nodded. He hesitated before speaking, as if he was thinking carefully about what he was going to say net. "Go to your chambers. I'll be there soon to see if you're telling the truth." He ordered me. But his voice wasn't stern, it was soft and gentle but intimidating all the same. Again, I nodded and then stood from my position at the table.

As I walked away from my previous chair, I heard the bastard, Jon Snow, whisper something to his half-brother. "You're not the spontaneous type." A light laugh came from Robb before his reply, "Aye, but she's different. I don't know what it is." His voice was deep and full of lust.

Pushing Jon and Robb's words out of my mind, I looked around for my mother and tried to make up an excuse as to why I was leaving the feast so early. My cheeks were a vibrant shade of red, I internally prayed that the dim lighting of the room would hide the crimson tint.

I approached my mother with caution, she was involved in a conversation with Catelyn Stark and I didn't want to seem rude by interrupting. "Mother," I timidly started. She turned to face me with a vacant expression, silent. "Sorry to interrupt, Lady Catelyn. Mother, may I be excused? This all getting quite overwhelming."

She briefly closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. "If you must." She responded. "Thank you, mother. Lady Catelyn." I bowed to both of them then, as quick as I could possibly go, darted out of the room and to my chambers.

I sat on my bed, my hands fumbled together, heart furiously pounding against my chest. Then there was a sound at the door. A small creak as it steadily opened and in slipped a tall, dark figure. "Sorry I'm late, my La-." Robb apologised to me but he didn't get to finish his sentence. I ran over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

My teeth caught his bottom lip as I bit into it and rolled my tongue over it. Wrapping an arm around my back, he molded us together as one, capturing my lips with his own and forcing his tongue in. Pushing us backwards to the cold stone wall, his hands grazed down my hips, squeezing at every possible moment.

Our bodies pressed together heatedly against the wall, breathing heavily as our lips met. I could taste our shared breath, feel the thud of our combined heartbeat as we fumbled to take off one another's clothes. His long fingers struggled to undo my tight corset but he just couldn't get it off, "Fuck it," He muttered against my lips.

He peeled me off of the wall and walked me back to my bed. Robb pushed me onto it and knelt down in front of me. He edged my dress up my body, "Hold that dress up, if it gets in my way there'll be hell to pay on your arse." I followed his commands and bunched my heavy dress up around my waist.

I looked into his eyes and it seemed as though he was fighting an internal battle with himself about something. Letting out a small groan, he slowly slid his hands up the outside of my legs, gripping just behind my knees as he forced them apart.

He grinned and ripped my underwear from my legs. Robb lent his head into my soaking cunt. Long strokes across my swollen lips was all it took for a moan to escape my lips. Separating me with his fingers, he began his true assault.

Not missing a single bit of skin, he licked and nibbled everything, using his tongue to draw numbers along the sensitive skin as he pinched my clit between his teeth and I couldn't help but scream out.

The whole of Winterfell could've heard for all I cared. My mother couldn't stop me even if she tried.

Robb clearly had the same thought as he smirked into my wet flesh and rammed two fingers inside of me, reaching to the knuckles. That was it. My legs started to shake and my muscles clenched hard around his fingers. I panted like a wounded animal, but he pulled his fingers out of me and stood up.

"Lay across that table; face down, arse up. You wanted to prove to me that you weren't as much of a Lady as everyone thinks, show me," He pointed towards the large table that rested in the middle of the room. I dragged myself off of the bed, my legs quivering beneath me. "Before you do that, take your dress off."

All the confidence that had previously flowed through my veins had been used up and all that was left was blind obedience. Eventually, I got my heavy dress off and made my way to the thick wooden table. My body bent over it and my hands reached to hold the sides of it for support, I would be needing it later.

Standing over me, Robb reached out to slowly caress my bottom. Then suddenly, the flat of his palm came down hard on my ass. Another spank came immediately after, taking my other cheek and reddening it. He proceeded to slip his hand between my legs, fingers lightly stroking over my moist folds.

A whimper lept from my throat. "That's it, my filthy little whore, moan for me," Robb grinned as he toyed with my clit, resulting in my hips arching off the table to feel him against me. Without warning, he pulled me off of the table. "Undo them." He pointed to his breaches that were held taunt against his crotch.

The command was clear in his voice and I started to fiddle nervously with the strings of his breaches. I slid them down over his hips and pushed them down his thighs. The sight in front of me gave me a dry mouth. Robb had pulled his shirt over his head and was now completely naked.

I reached down to his cock and took it firmly in my hand, teasing his red tip with my thumb. I relished in the feeling of him throbbing in my hand and knowing that I was the one that made him this hard. That was my power.

Robb may have been in control but I had the sort of control to invoke feelings that made his cock twitch. His hand moved forward and he slipped it between my legs again, teasing me from end to end. He made sure to add extra pressure on my clit when he brushed past it.

He pushed my hand away and shifted so his tip grazed against my pussy. "Do you want me?" The Lord asked, his icy eyes piercing though mine. "Of course I do." I replied with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Robb smiled softly at my words and moved me again so I was bent over the table once more.

His hips drove forward as he plunged his swollen shaft into me. He shuddered at the feel of my tightness wrapped around him and a groan escaped from both of us. Robb's head fell into the crook of my neck and I could feel his eyes flutter shut from his thick eyelashes.

He slowly began to fuck me. "Harder. Please, my Lord." I begged him. He heard my plea and picked up his pace, his thrusts gradually increased in speed. Each rocking motion drove him harder and deeper inside of me, his hips twisted with each movement. Robb's mouth rested near my ear, he murmured, "Mm, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

His head moved down to nip my neck hard. I moaned under his touch. He yanked my head back by my hair and captured my lips with his silky ones. The kiss was hard and demanding. His tongue plunged into my mouth, taking it's claim in the same way his hips were.

A high pitched whine came flying out of my mouth as soon as my lips parted from his. The noise only spurred Robb on more. His hips began to slam into mine with even greater force, a groan playing on his lips.

His climax was almost there, and so was mine. It danced up our nerves. We rocked together, hard and fast, hip to hip. The sound of slapping skin splintered the air harder than Robb drove into me. He buried his mouth in my neck and bit down, making sure that he had left a mark,

His hips pounded away at their own accord. My back arched into Robb's chest and a scream left my throat as my orgasm rippled through me. Eyes rolling back into my head, I reached back to clutch onto his dark curls. My nails scratched at his scalp, causing a low groan to come from him.

He carried on fucking me until my clenching had stopped and he came inside of me with a ludicrous moan. His hands caressed my hips and I layed on the table. Robb let out a hearty laugh and so did I.

"You were definitely telling the truth."

[lokiandbuckyaremine]

The Guy Next Door

Prompt: do you think you could do something where the readers famous too (singer preferably) and she used to date tom holland but he cheated on her (i’m sorry i love tom though lol)and now like a few years later she has to do a project with the marvel cast and he’s there but she like catches chris evans eye or something and they hit it off? so like there’s an age gap and stuff ~ Requested by anonymous

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, but fluff with your fav blonde guy ;)

“Get out Tom! You don’t live here anymore!” The scene was replaying over and over in your head as you sat on your bed with a guitar in hand. Tears were streaming down your face as the words to your new song poured out of your mouth. Why were you crying? Tom left you 3 years ago.....why was the pain still there?

You had met Tom Holland three years ago while you were both acting in a musical together, knowing that he was a great performer and dancer. The way he smiled and made you feel inside instantly had you falling in love with him. That was until he got involved with Hollywood and cheated on you with his co-actress, Zendaya. He pleaded and pleaded with you to stay, claiming that it was only “on-set” feelings for her. It didn’t matter....between what the critics were saying as well as what you saw for yourself, you knew that he loved her more than he did you. As much as it hurt for you to accept this, you had your music to keep you grounded.

A knock on your apartment door extracted you from your daydreaming. You rarely got visitors, despite being a famous musician. Silence and solitude was what you were going for when you moved into an apartment complex, hidden from a part of the world. Walking to the door with a shaky hand, you open to reveal a very tall and handsome man in front of you. His hair was tucked under a navy blue cap, and he wore a small beard on his strong jawline. His soft lips curved up into a smile as he tilted his hat at you. “Hi! I guess I’m your new neighbor. Just wanted to stop by and introduce myself.” 

You smiled back at him shyly. “Well welcome to the hood. You don’t have any ferrets do you?” The man chuckled and looked at you oddly. “Uh, no. Can’t say I do. Why?” You giggled back and leaned up against the doorway. “Cause the last guy did, they got loose, and the entire place smelled like dirty animals. Guess you can stay here then.” You winked at the man, and this seemed to make him relax. “Well good. Name is Chris by the way.” He stuck out his strong hand for you to shake. “Y/N. Pleasure to meet you.”

Chris nodded in response, and peeked inside your apartment. His eyes landed on the guitar that laid across the couch. “You play?” You glanced back to where he was looking and nodded. “Yea, I write, play, and sing. Kind of my passion. Hope you don’t mind. May keep you up some nights.” He batted his beautiful blue eyes at you and smirked. “Not one bit. I happen to love music myself.” A bit of silence fell between the both of you until he thought of something and snapped his finger. “Oh my goodness! You’re y/f/n y/l/n! The girl from LA that became the youngest musician to have a #1 hit on the charts.”

You could feel your cheeks getting hot, and you nodded softly. “Yea, ha! Guess my secret is out.” Chris shoved his hands in his jeans and rocked back and forth on his feet. “This is so cool! And I would’ve never guessed you were 24. You’re so mature and womanly for your age.” Realizing what just came out of his mouth, he smacked his forehead. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant you’re very pretty and well-kept for your age.” 

You giggled and could feel how red your face was getting. “I think I’m becoming a new shade of red. Thanks to you.” The tension between you two was building and you couldn’t help but get that tingly feeling in your stomach. You haven’t felt that since, well, Tom was around. It felt good and right, although you couldn’t help but feel like Chris was older than you and might not want to take a chance. 

“You wear the shade very nicely.” He leaned in towards you, giving you a full view of his face. You nearly fell backwards when you realized who it was. “OH MY GOD! You’re Chris Evans! I should’ve known by your dorkiness!” The two of you fell into a pool of laughter and he removed his cap, letting his short blonde hair fall out. “You caught me. Yea I’m going to be living here for a while. Got a new Avengers piece that’s going to start filming soon.”

Thinking that it was rude of you to keep him outside, you decided to invite him to come in. “Why don’t you come in for some coffee? My treat.” Chris began taking off his jacket and smirked. “I thought you’d never ask”.

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

Months passed, and almost everyday you and Chris would spend hours in one another’s apartment either talking, cooking, or doing something stupid. You both were becoming very close friends and it helped you fill that empty void that Tom had left you in. Chris was everything dreamed of, maybe even more. You knew that you both wanted more than friends but you couldn’t help and think he was refraining due to the age gap between the both of you. You brushed the thought away from you and just soaked up every moment you had with him. Friends was fine....for now. 

June rolled around, which meant that you wouldn’t be seeing Chris for a very long time. This was the beginning of the filming for the Marvel movie, and he would be straight out. You missed his presence in your apartment, and begged this time would pass so you could see him again. On the bright side, your agent managed to get you an acting spot in a new movie coming out. He didn’t give you any details except the time you needed to be on set and where it was. 

When the time came, you grew nervous because this was the first big role you had in a while. Yes you were a musician, but you loved to act as well. When you got to the set, you saw a whole bunch of campers lined up around the outside of the lot. A man with sunglasses began to approach you. “Miss y/l/n?” You nodded and stopped in front of him. “Nice to meet you. I will be your guard as well as your assistant. Follow me please.” You followed the stocky man across the lot and looked around. Coming to realization, you got excited quick because you were on the set of that new Marvel movie. That means that Chris would be here, or at least you hoped so. Your agent was a cheeky bastard....

The guard stopped in front of a camper and motioned towards it. “This will be your camper as well as dressing room. Anytime you need breaks, rest, or to catch up on your script, this will be your place to do so. If you need me for anything, I left my number on the counter. If I am not around to guide you or assist you, on either side of you is Mr. Pratt and Mr. Holland. Shall I help you with you bags?” You gulped when your agent said ‘Mr. Holland’. Did he mean Tom? Was he here? 

You smiled softly at him. “No thank you. I just need to be alone for a sec.” He nodded and straightened his jacket. “As you wish, y/n. I will be roaming around if you need me for anything.” He walked away, leaving you in a panicking state. You glanced to the right of your camper and saw in big letters “TOM HOLLAND” painted across the door. Just as you were about to dodge away, you heard his camper door open and shut. “Y/N? Is that you? It’s good to see you” Slowly turning to him, you pushed your lips together in a tight smile. “Wish I could say the same to you.” 

He walked down the steps and came over to give you a hug. You pushed him away. “Don’t touch me, Tom! We are not friends, not even acquaintances.” He laughed nervously and gave you a confused look. “I can’t give you a hug now. Why is that so wrong?” You glared at him and started to point at him. “Because that gesture suggests that you and I are close or have some connection. You fucking cheated on me, Tom! You could say a thousand fuckin sorries and plead on your hands and knees, but what you did to me was wrong. If you didn’t love me, why didn’t you just say so in the beginning and save me from this hell?”

Tom was taken back by your aggression, but deep down he knew you were right. “I didn’t expect to fall for her, y/n. I haven’t spoken to you in years, give me a chance.” You mouth dropped and you slammed down on the rail. “Are you fucking serious right now?! I didn’t expect my boyfriend and the man I fell in love with, or boy I should say, to cheat on me! But here we are!” The two of you continued to argue, until you heard a “Hey!” being shouted from behind you. 

You turned around and nearly broke out in tears when you saw who it was. “Chris!! Man am I glad to see you!” You ran to him and he grabbed in a big bear hug, your favorite. “Hey Vanilla Spice (His cute nickname for you), what are you doing here?!” Tom rolled his eyes and he was witnessing this interaction between the both of you. “Uh, Chris. WE were kinda in the middle of something.” Chris tightened his fist. “Tom, I heard the entire thing. I’m sure the entire lot did. Dude, you lost and now you need to accept the fact that you fucked up”. Your eyes switched between the two guys and you smiled, knowing Chris was defending you. “Look, you can drop the Captain America act off set. Stop trying to be the hero and think you know what’s going on.” Tom began to walk towards Chris, and not in a good way. Chris followed and pointed at Tom’s chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were in love with y/n, got an acting job as Spiderboy with Marvel Studios, had a few scenes with Zendaya, developed a crush, slept with her making the tabloids very happy, broke y/n’s heart, and now are too pussy to admit it. Did I leave any details out?”   

You covered your mouth trying to hide the laughter with how Chris just literally did the most sexy thing and defended you like his life depended on it. This left Tom speechless, and he crossed in arms in defeat. “Look, you have no idea how bad I feel about it. I never meant to hurt her.” Chris furrowed his brow and Tom and clenched his jaw. “Then maybe you should of thought of that as you were fucking Zendaya in you trailer.” Hearing this, you freaked. “It happened in THIS CAMPER??!! I’m gonna kill you Tom!” You started to lunge at him, but Chris caught your torso with his strong hands. “Hey, y/n. It’s not worth it. Let’s get you away from him.”

Putting his arm around you, Chris walked you across the lot to his camper and let you welcome yourself in. Once you were both inside, he enveloped you in another hug and pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Gosh, I missed your scent.” You giggled and squeezed him tighter. “I missed you too, Cap.” Pulling away, you both stared at one another for a few seconds before pulling apart. That tension was still there and it was killing you. You sat down on his couch and began to fiddle with the corner of a pillow. “Why was I so stupid to even think he was the one for me? Am I that blind to love?” 

Chris shushed you and brought you a bottle of water. “You’re not stupid, darlin. You just don’t know that what you’re looking for has been in front of you the entire time”. Realizing what he said, you glanced up at him with teary eyes. “What? I thought, wait what?” He chuckled and joined you on the couch. “Look, I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since you first invited me into your apartment. I didn’t want to proceed with it because I didn’t know how you would feel about the age gap. But seeing the way Tom treating you, made me want you so badly and show you how a man should really respect and treat you.” 

The tension was breaking and you never felt so relaxed and happy in your entire life. “Chris, I’ve liked you too. A lot. And it’s been driving me crazy thinking that you and I would never be more than friends. I didn’t know how you felt about the gap either, but I can’t go another day thinking that our relationship is not going to change. Ever since you came into my life and moved in next door, the emptiness and shadow that I was left in is gone. I’m willing to give this a chance if you are too.” Looking up at your best friend, he grinned the biggest you’ve ever seen him do. Chris took your hand in his and pressed a sweet kiss to each knuckle. “It would be my pleasure to call you mine, and spend the rest of my days with you, Vanilla Spice.” 

Tears broke from your eyes and you threw your arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Chris. Please don’t ever leave me.” He grabbed your face gently and leaned in for a tender kiss before touching his nose with yours. “I love you more, y/n. And not a chance I will ever leave you.” The kiss resumed and you both got lost into one another’s arms and affection.

What can you say......he was just the guy next door. ;) 

A/N: OK!!!! I HAD SO SO SO much fun writing this and really hope you guys like. I love Tom Holland and i hated making him so mean but it fit perfectly with what I wanted. Please LIKE, COMMENT, and REBLOG!!!!! (REQUESTS OPEN TOO)

Tag List (Open): @jobean12-blog @littlenerdgirl16 @jokesonjess @jewels2876 @mashtons-dirtbag @hernameiswhatt @ballyhoobarnes @lauxeyson @thiddlestoff @thatbitchsaidhi @marvelous-heroimagines @iamwarrenspeace @violentlybarnes @moondancewrites @toddneilanderperry @mizz-kraziii @lovelybones81 @thinemineours @godohammers @buckywhoops @thatfangirl16​ @thummbelina​ @notyourtypicalrose

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 10]

A/N: Day number 10 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. Hope you enjoy. I started rhyming in the end there it’s uh — a choice that was made. Lemme know what you think of the whole story, I know I ain’t no poet ♥

Prompt: Co-parenting on Christmas.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

“ Billy,

dear god, you’re quite the sight. You know that though, don’t you ?! Cocky bastard :)

It’s been 2 weeks since we took our baby girl home and it’s also our anniversary today. Who would’ve thought we’d end up here. Lounging on a sunday morning, in our bed, in our house, with our baby. 

Right now you’re asleep, baby cuddled into your chest and I’m watching you (like a full on creep) but I just can’t bring myself to look away. I should be working on another article for my job but writing about how much this sight means to me, how much you two mean to me, seems more important.

I thought I knew what love was when we got together, I was wrong. When Noelle was born I was flooded with a completely different kind of love, instant, breathtaking. She is my everything and I can never thank you enough for giving me her. Then I see you, doting on her, being the best dad anyone could ask for — and I love you more every time I see you two together.

I was scared things weren’t gonna be this good (to be fair, I still get worried sometimes that this is too good to be true) but then I look at you and things are okay. Thank you for being by my side through it all. Even when we both were scared. I knew you weren’t gonna run but  didn’t expect you to be such a natural. Noelle adores you just as much as I do, just as much as you adore her. I find it a bit rude that you’re her favorite when I am the one feeding her but then again, I can’t blame her (out of the two of us, you’d be my favorite too). Your chest is her favorite place in the world — it’s mine too.

Oh you’re waking up now and giving me one of those signature grins that remind me of the first time we locked eyes at Tina’s shitty Halloween Party. You just asked me if I’m writing about you and I said no (which was obviously a lie), I think you know it’s a lie.

They way you just looked at our baby makes me melt. Our baby. 

Our perfect little world. 

I don’t know if you’ll ever get to read this letter or if I keep it for myself. If you do though, I want you to know that I love you. Always.

xx (Y/N) “ 

“ (Y/N) ? “ 

I fold the letter back, stuff it into the pocket of my jeans and quickly close the lid of the box that had been pushed to the back of my closet for such a long time now. I am always painfully aware of the fact that it’s there, I’m just usually very good at ignoring it. 

“ (Y/N), oh hey — there you are. Did you find it ? “ my sister asks as she steps into the room, smile on her face.

“ Here you go “ I reply, handing her the flyer that has initially let me to opening the box in the first place.

She looks at me with a certain gravity in her eyes, uncertainty — fear ?

“ Are you sure this is okay ? I mean this is where Billy proposed. “

My eyes fall onto the flyer for the hotel. It’s like I can still smell the ocean and taste the salty air on my tongue. Those were our good days and to remember them is both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. It’s also not where he proposed but she doesn’t need to know that. That’s for me and Billy. Our little secret. If nothing else prevails, this for sure will.

“ It’s fine, (Y/S/N). Don’t worry. Billy and I broke up a year ago, we’re friends. It’s all good. “ 

Something about those words doesn’t feel right even though nothing about them is a lie. We are friends and everything is going pretty good. Though referring to him as a friend, as if he doesn’t still own the biggest piece of my heart, as if he didn’t give me the best present he ever could have — it feels wrong. Unfinished.

“ Alright cool. I can’t wait to take Lucy there, you said It was really magical so — “ 

I am happy for my sister, I really am. I want her and her girlfriend to have a good time on their first vacation together. It’s why I swallow all the pain and smile and nod. The pain is there though, even a year later — I hate this.

“ I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Now let’s get back to the kitchen or mom’s gonna kill me for making her cook the Christmas Eve dinner when it’s MY house. “ 

It’s a thing my family does, have a big dinner on Christmas Eve. Some tradition passed down from generation to generation, once put in place by some German relatives that none of us at this table even remember. I enjoy it though, being around my family. I just wish the seat next to me wouldn’t be deserted. I wish he was here.

Now let me tell you that, despite what it may sound like, the breakup was not a decision he made by himself. It was a conscious decision that we made together. With his work and mine taking up all out time, we hardly saw each other anymore. The stress from both our jobs trickled into our family life ever so slightly until it ended in us yelling and shouting about things that weren’t the other’s fault.

So we decided to break up. Sometimes it’s easier to give up than to fight. 

The divorce papers are resting in my bedside cabinet, not signed, still in the envelope. Billy hasn’t signed them yet either.

As I step into the kitchen, the scents of nutmeg and honey, of rosemary and thyme all wash over me. It takes me back to the days of my childhood. This feels cozy. This feels like home. Though it doesn’t dull the silent ache of my heart. 

“ (Y/N) don’t you think you should check on the turkey? “ my mom speaks up as she leans against the kitchen counter, glass of wine clutched in her hand. 

“ It still needs a bit, mom. I just checked like 10 minutes ago. “ 

“ I’m just looking out for you, sorry for trying to help. “ 

I love my mother but ever since I moved out and started my own family, something in her seems to have shifted, and not in a good way. Nothing I do seems to satisfy these insane expectations she has set for me, anymore. Neither my parenting nor my housekeeping seems good enough. It’s infuriating and exhausting but I know deep down it comes from a place of love and care.

“ Noelle still not here ? “ she asks, sipping the last of her drink “ thought you said Billy would have her back by 6. “ 

It’s at that moment that I start to get really irritated. I can deal with her judging me and what I do or don’t do. I hate when she does the same to Billy. She has never been his biggest fan but she knew he made me happy so she accepted him. Ever since our breakup though, things have taken a turn for the worse. She doesn’t waste any opportunity to talk ill about him and I am not having it. None of her words are founded in reality either. It’s ridiculous.

“ Mom it’s 5:14. He’s still in time. And even if he wasn’t, he’s her dad. He gets to spend time with her. “ 

“ Quite a dad, leaving you two alone. “ 

“ Mom, stop !  “ 

Neither my voice nor my face must leave any room for debate. He’s a wonderful dad and I will not let her spew her malice here. 

“ I’m sorry. “ She isn’t but it’s Christmas Eve so I let it slide.

The door ringing puts an end to our staredown and I am ever so grateful for the distraction and the way out of this tension filled kitchen.

When I open the door, the first thing that meets me is the blistering cold of the Indiana winter. A sharp gust of wind hits my face and I’m sure my nose is already a vivid shade of red. 

The next this I see is a little blond girl clinging to my legs, big blue eyes looking up at me. Her gap toothed smile makes my heart feel soft and warm, even with the cold from the outside surrounding me. My little girl never fails to bring sunshine into my life.

“ Hi mommy “ she says and hugs me even tighter. I comb my fingers through her hair, curled and pinned up slightly. He never accepts the compliments and sometimes I think it makes him self conscious, but Billy is great at doing her hair. I think he enjoys doing it too. When she was just a baby, only a few thin hair on her head, he already spend hours brushing them and putting little bows in.

“ Hey bub, did you have fun with daddy ? “ 

She nods vigorously “ So much fun! We watched Aristocats and Fox and the Hound. Daddy cried but — “ 

“ Hey Nolie how about you tell mom what Santa left at my house for you “

It’s the first time he speaks up and my eyes wander up towards him. I don’t think I will ever be able to look at him and not have my heart skip a beat. He’s a vision, even now. I can tell he’s exhausted, his leather jacket is pulled tightly around his frame and the snow falling onto his head has left his hair in moist curly streaks. 

“ Oh my god, mommy. Santa dropped of a Barbie dream house at dad’s place. With an elevator and a working doorbell. “ 

The enthusiasm in her voice makes me smile. It makes Billy smile too and that smile makes me want to melt right there and then. Back when we first found out I was pregnant, at just 18, we never thought we would end up here. Neither of us had planned this far ahead but we knew from the get go that all we wanted was to create a happy childhood for our baby. It was always happy even in the beginning when we struggled. Now, being a bit more financially stable, gives us the chance to spoil her a little. And I can see how much Billy relishes in the fact that he can give his girl her dreams, even if those dreams are pink plastic houses. All he wants is to make her smile. All he wants is to make her happy.

“ No way ? “ 

“ Uh-huh ! “ 

“ So I take it, you had a good time at daddy’s ? “ 

“ The best time ! “ She exclaims then rushed back and throws her little arms around Billy’s waist. 

“ I had the best time too, baby “ he replies and places a kiss on her head. “ You wanna go in say hi to everyone ? “ he asks and nudges her towards the living room. 

“ yup yup yup. “ 

As soon as she’s out of sight, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get clammy. It’s ridiculous really. This man has seen me at my best, my worst, my most vulnerable and yet this moment makes me nervous to be around him. 

“ Was she any trouble ? “ 

“ She’s never trouble, (Y/N). “ 

“ Ah — you wouldn’t tell me even if she were. “ 

“ She’s never trouble to me. “ 

I think he feels guilty, still. I think in Billy’s mind it’s his and only his fault that we had to break up. I think he faults himself for not being able to keep up this perfect little family we used to be for a while. I think he thinks he failed us.

He hasn’t. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to work — and we do.

“ Actually, do you have a moment ? I got something for you.  “ I say, motion for him to come inside and finally close the door to shield us from the cold. 

“ You didn’t have to get me anything. “ 

“ Well I didn’t. “ I say and rush towards the cupboard, pulling out a square box wrapped in red paper with a big green bow. “ Santa did “.

He scoffs but by the little smirk pulling at his ips, I can tell my joke wasn’t really all that bad.

Billy rips off the paper like a child on Christmas morning. It makes me sad to think that when he was little he didn’t get to really do these things. He never fully told me how bad things were but I know they weren’t pleasant. I’m glad I can give him those things now, even if we aren’t together anymore.

“ Mötley Crüe ? Thanks (Y/N). “ 

“ It’s their new album aaaand, “ I say and take his hand to turn the album around “ It’s signed. “ 

He’s got the same twinkling in his eyes that Noelle had when she told me about the barbie house. It make my heart grow three sizes.

“ How did you — ? “ 

“ I spoke to someone at work who’s responsible for the music department. She got to interview them the other day and so I asked her if she might be able to have them sign this. It’s not big deal really. “ 

“ No, it is. And now I feel really shit I don’t have anything for you. “ 

“ You already gave me all I will ever need. “ I say and glance towards the living room where Noelle is sitting on my father’s lap, telling him all about her barbie dreamhouse.

“ You did that for me too, (Y/N). “ 

For a moment we just stand there, lost in the thoughts of what we have and what should be, but isn’t. Then it occurs to me that, once this conversation is over and we say goodbye, I get to spend a nice evening with my family while Billy goes back home to — no one.

I can’t do that to him. I can’t let his Christmas turn into a sad day again. 

“ You got any plans for tonight then ? And tomorrow ? “ 

He bites his lower lip and I know he doesn’t want to talk about it. By now I have him figured out quite well. Know when he feels uncomfortable. Know what his little quirks and gestures mean. 

“ Nah, Max and Lukas aren’t coming around until New Years. No chance I’m gonna go see my dad so — probably just me and some movies. “ 

“ What about, “ gosh what was her name ? “ Sandra ? “ 

“ Sarah ? “ he asks an eyebrow mockingly raised “ uh — that wasn’t really a long term thing. It’s why I didn’t want Nolie to meet her. We ended things like 4 months ago. “ 

It shouldn’t, but it gives me a weird satisfaction.

“ Billy I can’t let you be alone on Christmas. Stay here. We have a spare room and I know Nolie wants you around. “ 

“ (Y/N) I can’t do that. “ 

“ Why not ? “ 

“ Don’t wanna impose. “ 

“ You don’t. Is this because of my mom? Cause if it is, fuck that. She’ll just have to deal.” 

He contemplates for a moment, I can almost see the gears in his head turning. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this isn’t about mom. Oh god maybe he doesn’t wanna spend time with me.

“ You can tell me that you have a date, you know ? “ he says and I am absolutely confused.

“ Huh ? “ 

“ Noelle said some dude called Jack is staying with you guys on Christmas. You can tell me that. I mean I would’ve liked to meet him before you bring him around my kid but — it’s your life. I don’t think he’d want your ex-husband around. “ 

“ Husband “ 

I don’t know why It’s so important to me to make that clear but the facts still stand. Billy is my husband.

“ Yeah whatever. Don’t think your boyfriend would like that. “ 

It’s then, that I have to laugh. A full on belly laugh that goes all through my body and fills me with giggles. I don’t know if I’m laughing so hard because the situation is so ridiculous or because It reminds me that he still cares, that he’s maybe even a bit jealous. Probably both.

“ It’s not that funny. “ 

“ Oh but it is. Come on let me show you something. “ 

I take his hand in mine and I feel like I did back in High School. It’s warm and soft and it feels like my hand and his were meant to hold onto each other. I feel him intertwine his finger with mine and my heart stops for a second. This isn’t how you should feel about an ex partner, is it ? 

Quickly I push open the door to the guest room then close it behind us. The high pitched barks of a little black puppy reach my ears and, before I can warn him, little Jack is already trying to climb up Billy’s leg. 

“ Billy, meet Jack. “ 

The realisation dawns on his face. Billy, as much as he hates and likes to deny it, is an extremely expressive person. It’s very endearing. 

“ Jack’s a dog “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ Jesus. I just made a fucking fool of myself. “

“ Ah it wasn’t so bad. “ 

“ I was jealous of a dog. “ 

My heart drops to my stomach. So he was jealous. Does it really matter ? Does that change things ? I mean we’re still broken up, so it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. 

But it does.

The letter in my pocket feels like it weight a thousand pounds as I suddenly get so very aware of all the feelings still there. Did we make the right decision ? Should we have fought harder ? Should we —

“ Why are you crying ? “ 

I don’t even notice it until he mentions it, until his hand softly takes my face and wipes away the stray tears that made it down my cheeks.

There’s no one specific thing that brings those tears, more the realisation of what isn’t anymore. One would think that after about a year of not being together, of living in separate places, leading lives away from one another, my heart would get used to it. The distance and the longing and the missing. It doesn’t though. There’s no getting used to a loss that you deliberately brought onto yourself by making certain decisions.

“ I found a letter earlier today. I wrote it to you when Nolie was just 2 weeks old. I remembered how happy I was then and how — how much I loved what we had then. I guess it just hit me that I wont ever have that again. “ 

“ What are you saying ? “ 

“ I don’t know, to be honest. I just know that I miss what we had and that I miss us as a family. That I miss you. “ 

“ You wrote me a letter? “ 

“ I wrote you so many letters. Or maybe I wrote them for myself, I don’t know. “ 

“ I lied “ he says then kisses the top of my head.

“ Huh ? “ 

“ When I said I didn’t get you anything. I lied. “ 

Billy pulls away a little then fumbles a little box from his jeans. 

“ When I asked you to marry me on our graduation, I didn’t have a spectacular ring or anything. I told you it was because I couldn’t afford it, which was true, but the actual reason was that I had a specific ring in mind that I wanted to give you. It was my grandmother’s. She and my grandpa were the only couple I had growing up that really made me want to believe in love. My mom got the ring after my grandma died and it took me awhile to find out her address. I got it finally and uh — I bought the ring from her. She would’ve given it to me for free but I don’t want her charity. So this — this is the ring I wanted to give you then and it’s the one I want you to have now. “ 

“ Billy, what if you wanna get married again to someone else one day ? You should keep it. “ 

“ No. You have my heart and I will never want to get married to anyone else. It’s yours and maybe one day it will be Noelles. “ 

He slips the ring onto my finger and it sparkles in the light. It’s not a diamond and it’s not big but it’s perfect. The pale pink stone shines like star in a dark winter night. 

We’re both crying now and if anyone were to come in, things would be really hard to explain. But this is our moment now so who cares.

Then he looks at me and I look at him and the air gets sucked out of my lungs and his hand cradles my cheeks and his breath falls onto my skin and we shouldn’t be doing this but we do. We do. We do. 

And it feels so right.

The touch of his lips on mine feels like home, tastes like home. It’s right. It’s right. This is right.

“ I love you, (Y/N). I still love you. “ 

“ I love you too. Do you — think we should try again ? “ 

He nods, then kisses me again. And again. And again.

“ Billy you’re a horrible cook but you are so confident in your failures that in the end it doesn’t really matter. You make up silly stories for Noelle even though she’s way too young to understand them. I think you make them up for yourself too. And for me.

You’re really good at remembering where we’ve seen ‘that actor’ before, when we watch movies. And your ability to tell other people about a movie you’ve seen without spoiling the plot (the way I always manage to). 

I think you always look effortlessly cool even when you just got up. Even when your hair’s a mess. Even when Noelle just threw up her lunch onto your shoulder. 

You’re a wonderful dad. The best. The love you have for our daughter makes my love for your grow each second. You’re never too proud to do anything, never scared to be emasculated or some shit like that. I love how much you love her. How much you love us. How much you love being a dad.

Billy you give me really great Orgas— “ 

“ Okay alright, I think that’s enough for your ego. “ 

We’re sitting in my closet, his back against the wall, my back against his chest. I’m reading him my letters, the ones I wasn’t sure if I had written them for him or me. Turns out I wrote them for us.

“ I think you should finish that one. “ 

“ I think maybe not. “ 

I take his hand in mine, lock my fingers with his and lean my head against his shoulder.

“ Are we making a mistake here ? “ 

He shakes his head “ Nah. I think being with you could never ever be a mistake. I guess we just have to try harder. “ 

“ I’m in if you are. “ 

“ Oh baby I’m all in. “ 

We kiss again and my heart feels whole.

“ Are you gonna stay for Christmas ? Noelle doesn’t know Jack is here already. I wanna surprise her tomorrow morning. “ 

“ Yeah. I’d love that. Being with you guys is all I wanted for Christmas. “ 

Christmas. SHIT ! Christmas.

“ Fuck. The turkey ! “ 

It’s  the morning of Christmas and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. 

 I lean against the kitchen counter, cup of coffee in my hand, as I let my eyes wander around the living room. The tree sparkles like an ocean of color with it’s fairy lights neatly in place. There’s presents a-plenty and a little dog asleep on a pillow in front of the couch. 

 This is all that I dreamed of for a whole long year and as I hear steps coming down the stairs I know it’s finally here.

 Yeah my family isn’t perfect and my turkey was a mess. But there’s a pizzeria on my speed dial and my family ? It’s the best. 

 Billy holds our little girl in his arms, tired smiles on both their faces and I know this is the dream, this is the very best of places. 

 When I look at my family, my heart starts to grow. It’s filled with tinsel and songs and it’s then that I know. Christmas ain’t about presents and it ain’t about food, It’s about all your loved ones and the love you exude. Through the smiles and the laughter and the kisses we share, all that I ever needed is in front me there.

 I give my little girl a hug, and a kiss for my man and I think, this is where I belong, right here where I am.

 So I hope that your Christmas is just as merry and bright. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good — 

 “ Mom, there’s a puppy !!!! “ 

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