#other people have already pointed out the wedding/icy water thing

[comfymoth]

i can’t help but feel like quackity’s setting something up by placing roier in so many of those photos, and i don’t know if i’m scared or excited for it but i sure do feel some kind of way.

or maybe he’s not and it’s just cos the ccs have been hanging out. who knows

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Two

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Thanks for all of the encouragement on the first couple of parts of this 🥰💕 I hope y’all had a good week! 💖 Warnings: Cursing; some angst Summary: “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.” 

“Alright, I’ve got a list,” You said, shrugging off your bag and setting it down beside Marcus’ couch. “A list?” Marcus repeated, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water for you, “Of what?” “Thank you-- Things that we need to sort out before we get to Austin. Look, you’re a shitty liar, right? Your words, I’m paraphrasing,” You tacked on, reaching into your bag and pulling out your notebook and a pen.

“Uh-huh,” Marcus agreed amusedly. “Right, so  hopefully if we sort out our details now, you won’t feel so freaked when we’re down there. And you won’t be trying to cobble together facts on the fly. That would get incredibly messy— especially if we’re going to pull this off all week.” “A full week of lying to my family,” Marcus sighed, “Talk about a long con, huh?” You glanced up at him from under your lashes, amused. “God, you’re such a boy scout. And technically you’ve already lied to them, you started the second you told Marnie that you were bringing me— though that’s technically not a lie anymore. Just...Don’t think about it as lying, pretend you’re undercover or something,” You shrugged, flipping your notebook over to your list of questions. “So I’d be lying to myself about the lie? Isn’t that compounding it?” “You’re overthinking it, Agent.” “You might want to start calling me Marcus.” “Right,” You muttered, “I will...Remember to do that.” “So what’s on the list?” Your eyes darted up from your list as you watched Marcus shrug out of his suit jacket. You’d seen Pike in less-than-pristine states before, especially throughout the Coleman case. You’d seen him with his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and when you were half-tweaked on caffeine in your cramped office, it was… more than a little distracting. You leaned forward, picking up the glass and taking a pull from it before setting it down and settling back again. “Basics first,” You said, “How we met. I say we stick with ‘work’.” “That’s not a lie.” “I know, I thought you’d like that.” “I do.” “Okay. How long have we been together?” “Uh...Few months at least-- Five?” “I can handle five,” You jotted it down, “How come you haven’t mentioned me to them before?” You glanced over at Marcus, smiling a little when you saw his panicked expression. “Or have you gotten this one already?” You added. “No, I haven’t-- Work has been busy? Again, I think that would be sufficient, so-- Hang on.” You raised your brows as Marcus leaned back against his couch. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “What’s happening over there?” You asked. “We should change how long we’ve been together to...Maybe two or three months? If we’d been together for five and I hadn’t said anything, my family would be very suspicious.” You nodded, scribbling out ‘5’ and writing ‘2-3’. “‘Kay. Are there any significant past relationships - serious girlfriends, fiancés that I should know about? I don’t need full details, just, like, broad strokes so that if someone mentions something, I’m not completely in the dark.” “One ex-wife, one ex-fiancé,” Marcus answered without hesitation. You nodded a little, jotting that down, and stilled when he added, “My ex-wife will be at the wedding.” “Good to know. Is that contentious?” “No,” Marcus shook his head, “No, it ended amicably.” You considered Marcus, his puppy-dog eyes, soft smile and kind nature, and you couldn’t imagine it ending any other way. “She’s still close to my family,” He tacked on. “Oh,” You laughed a little, “Great. That’s gonna be fun for me.” “What do you mean?” Marcus frowned. You shot him a look. “Your family is still close to your ex-wife. You’re bringing a new girlfriend home. You don’t think this could get a little tense? Or is your entire family just as nice as you are?” Your brows rose as Marcus laughed a little, his head ducking bashfully at the question. “We try not to judge,” he conceded, shrugging, “I’ve brought a couple of other people home since the divorce. They’re not going to jump to conclusions.” You hummed, glancing further down your list. Your stomach twisted at one question, but it was one that you knew that you had to ask. “Speaking of jumping to conclusions,” You shifted in your seat, “Is there anyone in your family that might run a background check on me?” “A background check?” “Yeah,” You nodded, “I mean, I know my records are sealed and wouldn’t pop if someone ran a normal background check on me, but if anyone in your family is in law enforcement like you and...And went poking?” “No, they wouldn’t,” Marcus shook his head. “You sure?” “I’m positive.” You lowered your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stopper asking for a third reassurance as you jotted the note down. “...You don’t trust easily, do you?” Marcus asked softly. The question turned your blood icy for a moment. But for as much ire as it raised in you, you were careful not to take offense. You knew that he wasn’t trying to get a rise out of you - you were doing the guy a favor, and it would be pretty ill-advised of the man to piss you off at this point. “What ever gave you that idea?” You teased instead, giving him a look out of the corner of your eye. Marcus’ lips twitched with a smile and you returned it. “Alright,” You added, looking through the rest of your list, “Let’s see what else we’ve got before we start drilling this stuff.” 

“Drilling?” “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.” “Marcus.” “Hey, it was better than ‘Agent’.” “At least I’m not the only one that needs practice.” -- 

“Run it by me again,” You requested, tucking one leg up under yourself and leaning back against the arm of the couch. Marcus sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He’d ditched the tie, had popped the top few buttons of his shirt, and his sleeves had been rolled up around his elbows. The man looked a little haggard - it was precious. He straightened up, brow scrunching before his head tipped to the side just a little. “Okay. Okay, we met a year ago when I moved to D.C... You work with the Bureau, assisting on cases, mostly art forgeries.” You nodded encouragingly, waving him on. “We started dating two and a half months ago,” He’d settled on that, finally, not wanting to pick two or three, “After we spent so much time together on the Coleman case. You’re an art history professor, you...Have been engaged twice before,” He added, pointing a finger at you. You rolled your eyes a little bit. “Keep going,” You ordered. You raised a brow as Marcus’ brow furrowed a little more, his head turning just a bit. “You don’t have any siblings, you’re not close to your family, and we have not set any plans for the future in stone...Yet.” “Why do you keep tacking on that ‘yet’?” “Because my family knows me. They know I think about those things, and they know I don’t get into relationships unless I really think there’s something there. If they feel me pulling back on that, they’ll think it’s because I’m worried about scaring you off.” “You’re bringing me home not only to meet your family, but to stay there for a week and for a wedding-- which your entire family will be attending. I think that’s a healthy fear,” You retorted. Marcus smiled a little bit, raising his hand in concession. “How’d I do?” He asked. “Much better. You didn’t close your eyes halfway through to remember the details and you stopped ticking things off on your fingers. You do this thing, though, when you’re getting ready to lie, it’s like watching someone wind up for a pitch.” “What do I do?” “You do this--” You imitated Marcus’ furrowed brow and tilted head, “It’s subtle, but you always do it.” “You think my family’ll notice?” “Only if you play poker with them.” Marcus chuckled, slouching back against the arm of the couch and scrubbing his hand over his face. “God, I’m beat,” He muttered. You nodded a little, shutting your notebook and getting ready to tell Marcus that you would get out of his hair. “Wanna go get some dinner?” Was his next question. -- “Did you seriously just order pancakes?” You asked, brows raised. You’d wound up at a diner not too far from Marcus’ apartment - somewhere where the staff seemed to know and were very fond of him. “Yeah,” Marcus nodded firmly, “Dinner is the best time for breakfast.” You chuckled a little, reaching out and taking up your soda. “So, engaged twice?” He asked. You rolled your eyes a little. “Once in college, when I was young and...Quite stupid,” You admitted, “And then once a couple of years ago.” “What happened the second time, if you don’t...Mind?” Marcus cringed a little as he asked. It took you a moment to answer, and he rushed to add, “You don’t have to tell me.” You shook your head. “It’s okay,” You promised, “I, um… I told them that I had a record.” Marcus’ expression softened. “You hadn’t told them before?” “We moved really fast, which I usually don’t when it comes to relationships. I don’t know, usually that stuff is always on my mind when I’m with someone, but with them it never really felt like it mattered. When I did tell them, though, it…” Your eyes lowered to the table as regret twisted in your stomach, “It broke everything.” “Did you tell them what happened?” “They didn’t give me the chance.” The two of you were quiet for a few moments - Marcus digesting this information as you sat in the swirl of bitterness that it had dredged up. “Anyway,” You shook your head, drawing the both of you out of it, “Guess it shouldn’t really matter that they left when they did. I realized later that, given their reaction, they were going to leave no matter when I told them… How much of that you disclose to your family is up to you.” Marcus didn’t say anything for a few moments, searching your face. “Know what I never understood?” He finally asked. “What?” “Why they never nailed any of the people buying from you or your grandmother.” You shot him a skeptical look.  “You know that it’s not punishable by law to buy a forgery or be a rich piece of shit.” “You were a kid,” Marcus frowned. You considered this for a moment, directing your eyes to the ceiling to find the best way to order your thoughts. “...I was a minor,” You contended, “But I was old enough to know that what we were doing was wrong. I… I knew that we were duping people, I knew that it was illegal. I knew the paintings were forgeries, and I knew that the people that we were dealing with were dangerous. I’m just lucky I wasn’t tried as an adult.” “You were raised to do all of that and then left hung out to dry by the person that was supposed to protect you,” Marcus argued quietly. You swallowed thickly, hurriedly looking to the table as you felt tears spring up in your eyes. You tried not to think about these things most days. And for Marcus to have this level of empathy, of understanding...You were sure that the man had glanced through your case file at some point when he started working with you, but hadn’t expected this. Most people didn’t look too far past what you were doing to try and understand how you’d come to be in your position. But then, most people weren’t Marcus. “...No wonder I don’t trust easy, huh?” You tried to joke after you’d blinked the tears away and lifted your eyes back to his, a thin smile on your lips. Before he could say another word on the matter, the food arrived.  

The two of you tucked in quietly, After a few minutes, you nudged his foot with yours. 

“Tell me about Marnie? And her fiancé, um… Hazel, right?” You requested. 

Marcus’ face pulled with a fond smile, and you felt ease wash over you again. -- “So, just let me know what the wedding colors are so I don’t wind up wearing a dress that matches them and we should be all good,” You reached for your bag as Marcus pulled his car up in front of your apartment building. “Sure thing.” “And if you think of anything else that your family might ask about us, you know, so we can plan ahead.” “I will.” “Okay-- Oh! Uh… Are you a big PDA guy? Like, is that something your family’s going to expect?” “I tend to be kinda touchy, yeah, but I can tone it down.” “Well, what are we talking about here? Hand-holding, hugging?” “Yeah,” He nodded, “And probably a hand on your shoulder or your back, maybe a kiss on your cheek or forehead or…” Anticipation thrummed through you as his gaze darted to your lips. “‘Kay,” You nodded a little, feeling your heartbeat tick up in your chest. “We don’t have to--” Marcus started to reassure, but you waved him off. “It’s totally fine,” You reassured him, “I trust you.” Marcus smiled at you, a gentle smile overtaking his lips. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get you those wedding colors as soon as I can.” “Thanks,” You smiled, “Night, Marcus.” “Goodnight,” He chuckled as you got out of the car. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​​ ; @elen-aranel​​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​​ ; @artsymaddie​​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​​ ; @lunaserenade​​​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​​​ ; @randomness501​​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​

[theghostofashton]

hey , when you are free ( only when you're feeling good , i don't want to burden you since you're already in the middle of writing another fic ) can you do a short fic on your interpretation of how both kurt and blaine decided they needed help and went to therapy and how it all played out leading upto s6 where we see them.

you sent me this so long ago and i'm so sorry it took forever. i decided to kind of write two fics? writing kurt and blaine's individual processes felt more natural as separate fics, because they are both in very different places. they got kind of long (i am so sorry - i cannot shut up to save my life lmfao) so i didn't go into the actual therapy sessions, but i can definitely write follow ups that do, if you want!

pretty heavy trigger warnings for depression in both of these. keep that in mind before reading.

i hope you enjoy :)

Blaine is numb.

He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t want to feel anything. Everything’s hurt for far longer than he’s been able to bear. It’s finally starting to fade into a slow, steady ache, dull at the edges and no longer as painful, and for that, he is relieved. It’s the kind of hurt that he can tolerate, the kind that just blends into the background, a low buzz that just remains constant.

He just wants to lay here forever. Maybe until the world ends, or his body decomposes, whichever comes first.

It all happened so quickly. Sometimes it feels like someone took a sledgehammer to his life and left it in thousands of tiny pieces. He’s sitting amongst the wreckage, unsure of where to even begin rebuilding. Part of him isn’t sure it’s entirely possible to put back together the smithereens of everything he thought he knew.

The rest of him just doesn’t understand how things got to this point. He doesn’t understand how it happened, how he went from daydreams and decisions about wedding menus, to trying to soften the lump in his throat long enough to deal the last blow. I will never forgive you. I won’t.

I will never forgive you for this.

In the moment, it was all he could do. All of the strength he could summon had been poured into those seven words. He wanted them to hurt, to sting Kurt the way Kurt had stung him, icy hot and merciless. He wanted Kurt to know that it would take more. He wasn’t that easily breakable – at least, not on the outside. He would have the last word, and he would tell it like it was.

He doesn’t know how he could ever forgive Kurt for this.

More important than Kurt, Blaine doesn’t know how he’ll ever forgive himself for the series of bad decisions the past couple of months have dissolved into. Day after day spent in bed, tear tracks drying on his face as he stared at nothing on his walls and tried to keep conscious for a respectable amount of time. He knew it wasn’t a good thing to be sleeping for more hours out of the day than he was awake, but he couldn’t find the energy to do anything else.

Kurt had left.

He was gone.

And Blaine, as much as he tried to fight it, was broken by him. He was broken by the realization that he had put so much of his happiness, so much of himself into his relationship with Kurt and his future wedding, that, now that it had been yanked away, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know anything, anymore. His life no longer looked anything like he had envisioned it turning out, and he was forced to live with that. There wasn’t anything he could do.

Kurt doesn’t want him anymore.

There isn’tanything he can do about that.

A part of him isn’t too surprised, if he’s really honest with himself. Things have been different for a while. He’s been scared for a while.

His gut could tell something bad was coming. It was obvious, in the way Kurt moved around the apartment, in the lines of his body in bed at night, the way he was perpetually tensed, stiff with everything he was holding in. Maybe he’d wanted to break up sooner, but held back to preserve Blaine’s feelings.

Blaine isn’t stupid. He knows that that night at the restaurant wasn’t planned. He pushed just the right amount for Kurt to finally blurt out the thing that had had a hold on him. For how long, Blaine isn’t sure, but he knows it had to have been longer than the length of time he kept Kurt waiting at that table.

At least, that’s what he keeps trying to tell himself.

Because the alternative, the biting realization that Kurt hadn’t intended to break up with him, that it just slipped out, something so impulsive yet so final, is too much for Blaine. He doesn’t want it to be true. That isn’t the Kurt he knows. None of this makes sense, but that…that Kurt made the decision to end their relationship, their engagement, so quickly and easily, is too much for him to take.

It was his biggest fear. The thing he kept convincing himself would never happen. Kurt loves you. He always will. He told you he will. He’s not going to leave you. He loves you.

Kurt said he loved him. He said it back, in a moment that Blaine was sure he wouldn’t. But did he? Did he really? The way Blaine sees it, loving someone means fighting for them. Choosing them. Working through the hard things with them.

And Blaine doesn’t know why. He can’t ask. He can only guess. Spend some of these painful hours of consciousness contemplating exactly why he wasn’t good enough for Kurt to stay with. Because the Kurt Hummel he knows is the strongest, toughest fighter he’s ever met. Things had to be dire for him to not even make the effort.

Kurt had finally figured it out. What made him so intolerable, so exhausting to be around. He had realized what he was getting himself into and made a break for it before things could go any deeper. Blaine supposes that is for the best. Get out now, before the papers are signed and things are officially official, before it is much harder to make the break for it.

This is what he’s been scared of, been terrified of, since he and Kurt got back together. And he tried to push it to the back of his mind, because Kurt said yes and invited him to New York and promised to make it safe when he fell. Kurt promised to be there for everything, promised that they belongedto each other, promised that he would never stop loving him.

Blaine wonders when he did.

He wonders when all of this fell apart, how blissfully ignorant and idiotic he must have been not to see it.

How long was Kurt planning to do this? How long was he thinking about it? How long did he keep this to himself, wake up next to Blaine and kiss him goodbye every morning, knowing he was holding onto to the mother of secrets that had the power to destroy everything? Why did he get to be the one making that unilateral decision about their relationship?

Kurt controlled whether they got engaged or not, and Kurt controlled how it ended.

It was all up to him.

Blaine just had to hope they were on the same page about everything, and now it’s clear that they weren’t.

He’s so tired of other people getting to make decisions about his life, and leaving him to deal with the wreckage of their choices. He’s tired of not having any control. He doesn’t know how he ended up here. His life doesn’t feel like his anymore.

Madame Tibideaux had decided that he wasn’t worthy of another year at NYADA, that his emotions weren’t a good enough excuse for the quality - or lack thereof - of his work. It didn’t matter what he was feeling, or how bad it hurt. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t like every other person who could channel their pain into their art. It didn’t matter that he’d been doing it for as long as he could remember, feeling through every lyric he sang, every performance he gave. The cup had to dry up eventually. Something had to happen that was too bad, too painful, for him to sing his way out of. It wasn’t his fault. He’d tried so hard, given everything he could.

It didn’t matter that he desperately, desperately needed someone to see him. Not the things he produced, not the contributions he would make to a performance, him. His real self. The part that no one seemed to want.

It didn’t matter that Blaine Warbler felt like a lie he’d forgotten how to live years ago. He remembers grappling for it, trying to tug on the same mask he’d donned after the Sadie Hawkins dance, turn off his emotions and shift into autopilot, sing and dance and perform like he didn’t wish he could stop existing in that moment.

None of it mattered.

Blaine was just not good enough for NYADA, like he was not good enough for Kurt. He should’ve realized it sooner. It’s his own fault he didn’t.

“Honey?”

Blaine startles at the voice, jolting upward in bed and blinking rapidly against the sunlight pouring into his room. “Huh?”

“I brought you a little something to eat.” His mom sets a plate of buttered toast and a glass of water on his nightstand, and then leans down to drop a kiss against his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly. He doesn’t want to lie to her. “Tired, I guess.”

“Sam called the house again,” she says. She takes a seat on the edge of his bed and reaches out to brush a hand through his hair. “He left a message, said you haven’t been picking up your cell. He’s worried, Blaine. I’m sure Tina is too.”

Blaine winces, dropping his gaze down to his blankets. Just one more thing you’re sucking at lately.

He hasn’t called Sam or Tina since he got back to Lima. At first, he was too ashamed to tell them the truth, although he knows that Sam is probably aware of what happened. Kurt and Mercedes talk, and even though Sam isn’t with her anymore, he knows that he and Mercedes are still very close. Sam’s been blowing up his phone for weeks. He sent a perfunctory, “back home for a while, but going to be really busy for a while” text, so Sam wouldn’t assume he was ignoring him, but he’s sure Sam has long figured out it was a lie.

“You don’t have to call him back until you’re ready,” his mom tells him. “But I do think he’d love to hear from you, baby. He could come over and keep you company, play some video games, you could-”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t want him to come over.”

“Why not?”

I just don’t,” he manages. I don’t want him to see me like this.

I don’t want him to be mad at Kurt.

I don’t even know if I want to be mad at Kurt anymore. All of this is just so exhausting.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about a while ago?”

Blaine snaps his head up to meet her eyes. “You- no, mom. I’m fine, I promise. I just need a couple more days to…” He trails off with a sigh. To what? Wallow in his sadness? Sleep away and accomplish nothing? He hasn’t been the slightest bit productive since he left New York. It feels like he used up all his energy packing up and moving home.

That was over a month ago, and he still hasn’t recovered from it.

“It’s not really a matter of being fine, sweetheart. You know that. I just think talking about it might-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” He snaps. And then he watches her face shift and crumples, lump in his throat throbbing as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

A pair of hands reaches for him, and he lets himself go, lets her pull him into a hug and buries his face in the crook of her neck. He takes a deep breath, and then another, hot tears burning at his eyes.

He doesn’t want to cry anymore. He feels like he’s done nothing but cry about this. He doesn’t know how he still has tears left.

“I know,” she murmurs, rubbing his back. “And I know you don’t think it’ll help. But you might be surprised, Blaine. I just think you should give it a chance. Get yourself back on your feet and feeling a little better, hm?”

She presses another kiss to the top of his head and props him back against his pillows. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he chokes out.

“I’m just going to be downstairs doing some work. Let me know if you want another piece of toast, all right?”

At his nod, she makes her way out of his room, and Blaine slumps back against his headboard, still fighting tears.

She’s probably right. It would help, far more than it would hurt. His mom has been a proponent of him seeing someone ever since Sadie Hawkins. He insisted he’d be okay then, and, seeing his distress, she didn’t push too hard for it. He knows she regrets that now, knows she blames herself for things getting as bad as they have. If he had gone, back then, maybe they would’ve been able to address some of this before it turned so bad.

But talking means talking about everything. About the dance, and meeting Kurt, and it going from so good to so bad, in such a short amount of time. It means talking about the things he hoped would stay buried, the ways in which he and Kurt were not perfect, his tendency to latch onto things and cling to them, tighter than he probably should have.

He isn’t sure he’s ready to think about more than how angry he is, or how much this hurts. He isn’t sure he’s ready to move out of this stage of staying in bed and not facing the world, holing up in his childhood bedroom and not confronting the life that he feels like he put on pause a month ago. He knows things are different now. He just isn’t sure he’s ready to see how much everything’s changed.

He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to move past all of this, but he knows he needs to.

He knows he needs to leave all of this behind, to start talking about it and thinking about it and rebuilding the pieces of his mess of a life. Otherwise, he’s destined to feel like this forever.

And that scares him even more.

---

Kurt is exhausted.

And if he’s really honest with himself, he’s felt this tiredness for a while now, become so accustomed to it that it feels like he’s leeched it into part of his personality, taken on the ache in his chest and the heaviness of his bones like a jacket with rocks in the pockets, weighing him down with every step he tries to take.

It’s the kind of tired that feels consuming, quicksand that swallows him the more he tries to get out of it. The kind that makes him feel like he’s running on empty, with no sign of a gas station for miles, the kind of tired that makes every day, every action, every conversation, feel like too much.

Part of him thought that this would stop once he ended things with Blaine. He didn’t want to go there. He never wanted to believe that Blaine could be the reason for all of this. How could the person that made him feel so, so loved and safe on his worst days also be the person that made him feel like this? It just didn’t make sense.

It never felt true, but the thought continued to linger, and with every passing day, ate more and more away at him. He tried not to spend too much time in that place. It hurt too much to think about until he was blurting out the words he didn’t even plan on saying.

And then, everything changed.

The breath it allowed him to take, the exhale, didn’t last long. Instead, he’s left with the image of Blaine’s crumpled, heartbroken expression every time he closes his eyes, the I will never forgive you for this playing on loop in his head every time he tries to think about what it could mean going forward.

That was it.

He ruined it.

He drove Blaine away for good.

Kurt remembers the day it happened so clearly. Getting home after a long day of classes, worn out and ravenous, only to be greeted by Blaine’s key to the loft sitting on the kitchen table. He’d sent Kurt a text that had far too many periods and was capitalized in all the right places – which, Blaine usually tended to do, but never in his life had Kurt read a message from him that felt so stiff and robotic and formal – about the rest of his portion of rent and bills for the month.

Blaine was gone.

Really, really gone.

And Kurt was alone, feeling further and further away from the people that loved him with each passing day.

In the beginning, he thought that was what he needed. Time away. A chance to be by himself and reevaluate the decisions he’d made over the past year. Crunch the numbers and figure out if Blaine remained in the equation by the end. He just wanted to be certain, be sure, that he wasn’t opening himself up to be hurt again. He wasn’t sure he could take it one more time, give his heart back to Blaine only to have it dropped, shattered like a stone.

He just wanted to feel safe.

He wanted to be sure of it, sure that he could let his heart go, run wild and free like it did in the common room, racing toward the boy with the beautiful voice who had held his hand and made him feel seen for the first time in his life. He wanted it to feel like that again. Untethered, too strong to control, defying each doubt with that wave of invincibility. So pure and open, expansive with all of the potential, broken parts shaved off to make room for the newness.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have that with Blaine, he’d thought. Maybe Blaine was supposed to be a bridge that helped him on the road to finding that. Maybe he’d meet someone else that would make him feel like Blaine first had, someone else that would make him feel weightless.

He tries to just go for it, to let it happen, but it never does. It never feels right, never the kind of right that it felt with Blaine. He lets Elliott set him up with friends that the other deems perfect, just your type, and feels nothing.

He tries speed dating, and starts getting more serious about Tindr. He matches with a few guys, goes on a couple of dates, flirts and reciprocates and tries, to let himself fall headfirst. It’s fun. Every date is a good time. They’re warm and light and exploding with newness. But the sparks die out after the first twenty minutes and then Kurt finds himself back in his head, thinking about hair gel and bowties and nonfat mochas, intertwined hands and the insides of coffee shops, the way it all felt like the safest home he’s ever known.

And he hates it, he hates that he feels nothing. He hates that his heart belongs to the hair gel and the bowties, because he fucked that up. He ruined that.

Kurt goes to class, goes to work, and comes home. Sometimes he sees Elliott, and sometimes he stays past his shift to chat with Artie at the diner, but otherwise, he spends every day the same. Sitting and staring through shows on TV, shoving spoonful after spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, and trying desperately to turn his brain off. Trying desperately not to wade into the murky waters of every moment that led up to that night.

I will never forgive you for this.

The realization slaps him in the face.

He’s trying to move on, and then he’s crying in public, humiliating himself in front of a perfectly good Tindr match, overcome with the sheer magnitude of the words that came out of his mouth so many months ago. It hadn’t hit him until then, how insistent, how cruel he had been in the moment. How he had the power to turn Blaine from light and warm and excited, to completely and utterly broken, in the span of a single conversation.

He did that.

And sure, it wasn’t just about toothpaste and towels and Blaine’s newfound habit of tardiness, sure, there was so much painful and deep and wrong underneath the surface. Sure, Kurt had had doubts ever since the car ride and the non-surprise of a proposal, sure, it would have come to the light sooner or later, sure, he was just speeding up the process.

But never in his life has he been so disgusted in himself. Never in his life has he gone back over a moment so many times in his head, wished he could turn back time and that 20/20 happened before hindsight and that he could see the future of misery he’d end up in and not decide to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

They could’ve talked about it. Blaine is one of the most understanding people Kurt has ever met. He would’ve absolutely been open to something like that. One of Kurt’s favorite things about him is that kindness, that space for grace he is able to hold for others.

Talk to me. Tell me you’re unhappy.

We’ve been putting this off for far too long.

Don’t you think we should have the talk?

Wait, Kurt, let’s talk about this.

Blaine always wanted to talk. It was how he felt safe, Kurt is realizing. Blaine wanted the words, the vocalization that everything was okay in that real and concrete way. It was how he grounded himself.

Kurt’s never been one for talking. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, locked up tight. He knows they’re not what people want to hear. They’re messy, and don’t always make sense. Sometimes they feel like the worst parts of him all bundled up into one, complete with pieces of him that haven’t fully left the horrors of high school behind.

Talking about them is effort he doesn’t have to exert. He’ll be opening Pandora’s box with no way to contain the contents. He doesn’t necessarily want to know how the people in his life feel about him. He doesn’t want to hear what they have to say. It scares him too much. There’s just no reason to ruin a perfectly good foundation by having conversations that uncover all of the cracks.

No, it’s better to drop a bomb on the entire thing and destroy it in one fell swoop.

He sometimes feels like he’d fallen asleep after Finn died and is only now being wrenched out of his nightmare, waking into a world that is far different than when he left it. Everything’s been on pause for so long. Hitting play feels like coming back to a reality he barely recognizes. A person he barely recognizes.

He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like himself until there was nothing to distract from it. And maybe it isn’t his entire self, per say, but who he’s turned into. The person that’s been morphed together after the tiring, tumultuous year they’d all had. The stress, the anxiety, the exhaustion, personified. Even the littlest things – the tiny, stupid, don’t matter in the grand scheme of it, things – make him angry.

He’s been living on fumes for too long and everything feels like it’s at a breaking point. He’s trying to hold on to the reins, but they’re slipping out of his hands too quickly and he’s too tired to keep running to catch up. His life feels like it’s unraveling and it scares him, because he has never been this person. He has never been unable to keep going, unable to push through, to carry on, put all his stock into the rainbow on the other side and his nose down until he reaches it.

But everything that’s happened in the past few years, high school, and Karofsky, and all the little things he let go, all the things he said were okay and tried to move past and eventually decided didn’t mean anything anymore, never truly went away. They laid dormant for a while, so much so that he’d just about forgotten about them, until they decided to come back with a vengeance. Like he’s being reminded of how messed up his life is, because for once, hewas the one to cause it.

He’s spent so long being too gay, or too fragile, or too feminine, to get the things that he really wants. There’s always been something he couldn’t control, something inherently wrong with him, which keeps him from getting anything on the first try. It always takes extra work, extra effort, the need to prove that he does deserve it and has earned the role, or the solo, or the opportunity that is almost inevitably given up to someone else.

Maybe a small part of him thought that Blaine would be like that too.

The proposal wouldn’t be enough to propel them into a lifetime of happiness.

It couldn’t be that easy.

He wouldn’t get to be that happy.

There is so much wrong with him. Kurt knows that. He knows he can be bitchy, sometimes cold, often not someone that’s easy to get close to. He knows he has a tendency to hold everything in until he reaches a breaking point and lashes out.

He knows he’s angry. He knows he’s in pain.

And he knows Blaine didn’t need to see any of it, didn’t deserve any of it. Blaine was too good, too warm, too unimaginably kind, to deserve these parts of him. He didn’t want their relationship to turn into it, go sour and stunted until Blaine began to resent him.

Blaine loved him anyway. In spite of everything. Blaine’s capacity for love was so massive and unlimited, and Kurt couldn’t understand it. Blaine wanted to work on things, always, and Kurt didn’t understand that, either. He’s spent his entire life trying desperately to be okay, to be enough, for people, to not be a problem they will one day resent solving and decide to abandon by the side of the road. People don’t want a mess. They don’t want someone who’s broken. They don’t want to be there when the going gets bad.

But everything is just so much, and Kurt has never been more tired of fighting.

He can’t hide it anymore. Can’t compress it down and pretend it isn’t happening. A recent study session with Elliott turned into a minor – he would deem minor, although Elliott would definitely evaluate it way worse – breakdown over one of his theory papers. What should’ve been some simple frustration over his inability to phrase his argument was instead far more loaded, the depths of his anger and stress seeping through, unable to be contained.

Maybe talking is – finally – what he needs. He’s tried everything else.

He reaches over and into the pocket of the jacket he wore a couple days ago, and pulls out the card Elliott pushed into his hand as they left the coffee shop. For the therapist I used to see when I first got to the city, Elliott had told him. She really helped me sort through some stuff, and I know she can help you too.

Call, he had urged quietly. Please, Kurt. It doesn’t have to be like this.

It isn’t the first time Elliott’s brought up seeing a therapist. That was his first suggestion when Kurt broke the news of his and Blaine’s breakup. Kurt had ignored him then, insisted that the breakup was all he needed. He’d be fine.

But the lump in his throat has been there for weeks, and he is so tired of being on the verge of tears all the time.

That’s what he tells himself, as he grabs his phone. His fingers shake as he puts in the number and presses ‘call’.

He’s so tired of being tired.

[pretchatta]

swoon june day 9: fairy tales

loosely based on the greek myth of orpheus and eurydice

rating: general (warning for character death); kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 3.5k words

---

There once lived a man who was blessed by the gods, and his name was Kanan.

Kanan was one of the Kasminauts, the fabled heroes who travelled with Janus to retrieve the Golden Flight. His skill with a blade was considerable and helped the group out of many a tight corner over the course of their quest, but it was his silver tongue that proved to be his most valuable asset.

Kanan’s divine gift had been bestowed upon him by Depa, goddess of the spoken word, and his was the gift of storytelling. When Kanan began a tale, all would stop in their tracks to listen. Men would pause in their work; beasts of the forest both great and timid would emerge from their dens; even the trees would inch closer to hear him. It was his way with words that allowed the Kasminauts to pass the Golden Flight’s devaronian guard, Jondo, as well as surmount countless other obstacles on their journey.

When their quest came to an end and the heroes returned home, Kanan decided to settle down. He found a cottage at the edge of a forest and he made it his home. Now this forest was not an ordinary forest, for it was inhabited by a clan of twi’lek nymphs, and it was during a walk along the forest’s border that Kanan’s ears caught the sound of the loveliest voice he’d ever heard. Enraptured, he sought out its source, and that was how he met Hera.

Hera was the daughter of Cham, the leader of the forest twi’lek. Her beauty and grace were indescribable, and Kanan fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. From that day he would come to the forest every morning to tell Hera one of his many magical tales, hoping to win her affections. What he didn’t know was that Hera already returned his feelings; she had heard of Kanan and his silver tongue, but wanted to see how far he would go for her.

The first tale he told was of an ancient order of noble warriors. His words painted pictures of elegant figures in flowing robes protecting the weak and caring for the needy. In his attempt to impress Hera he made it his best performance to date. So inspiring were his words that the forest itself felt inclined to grow. The trees pushed their roots further than they’d expanded in years and new saplings shot up in every direction, increasing the area the forest protected.

Kanan’s second tale was a tragedy, one of betrayal and loss and hardship. He made this one even better than his last, delving into his deepest reserves of emotion as he told it. So moving were his words that the ground itself wept. A new stream sprang from the forest floor, feeding the forest’s new growth, and the trees grew lusher than ever.

His third tale was of new beginnings, describing friendships forged and purpose found. His voice soared with his most powerful story yet and carried through the whole forest, uplifting every beast and being who heard it. That night there was much celebrating, with everyone who lived in those woods rejoicing in the life they had and the ones they shared it with, and by the following morning the forest’s population was inexplicably larger.

Hera, seeing her home revitalised and strengthened by Kanan’s tales, held no doubts in her mind of his devotion. She revealed her heart to him and they were married in a beautiful ceremony by the stream. The wedding was well-attended, with music and dancing from her people, drinking and laughter from the Kasminauts, and a special performance from Chopper, a bird that Hera had once nursed to health and who had stayed with her ever since. Kanan and Hera moved into the cottage at the edge of the forest, and they were blissfully happy together.

But it was not to last.

They were not the only ones who lived by the forest, and a man by the name of Azmorigan also desired Hera. His covetous feelings drove him to pursue her relentlessly, but never within sight of Kanan. One day, he waited for Hera to take her daily walk outside of the cottage and snuck up behind her. Hera, having been raised in the forest and knowing its sounds like her own heartbeat, heard Azmorigan approaching. She fled before he could touch her, but in her haste to escape, she did not watch her step. Her foot fell on the back of a ysalamiri lizard and it bit her ankle. The lizard’s lifeforce-suppressing venom seeped into her blood, and Hera fell to the ground.

Azmorigan fled, and it was evening before Kanan came to look for his wife. The man of such beautiful words was silent when he found her lifeless body. He was silent as he carried her back to the home they had shared, and the silence stretched for three days and three nights. Trees wilted, birdsong was half-hearted, and instruments would not hold their tune without Kanan’s words to lift spirits.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Kanan re-emerged. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn on his voyage with the Kasminauts, with his sword strapped to his hip and a small travelling bag slung over his back. He said not a word as he departed for the hills.

Kanan’s journey was a long one. He travelled out of the forest and over the hills, through fields and between mountains until he reached the sea. He took a boat and sailed over the horizon and beyond, until he found land again. He crossed arid deserts, frozen tundra and lush jungle. He saw fishing villages, market towns and cities in the clouds, but he never stopped, and he never spoke.

Eventually, he reached the cliffs at the edge of the world. There he found a cave, an opening that descended into darkness, which he entered without hesitation. The tunnel took him deep underground and far away from the land of the living. He walked, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until he reached a gate. Standing before the gate was a fearsome sentinel, the honourable guardian Garazeb, his eyes wide and alert.

It was now that Kanan finally broke his silence.

“I wish to pass into the Land of the Dead,” he said softly.

“That is forbidden,” Garazeb growled, his deep voice like grinding rocks. “Only the dead may pass this gate. As long as I stand guard here, no living thing shall pass me, in or out.”

Kanan thought for a moment. “Very well. Then perhaps I could make your endless watch a little less dull. For I am Kanan, a storyteller of great renown.”

Garazeb did not respond, merely fixing Kanan with a stony stare, but he was not deterred.

Kanan began his tale. For the gate guardian who saw people from all walks of life pass him on their way to the Underworld, he recounted long marches to battle, legions of feet falling in step, their thunder echoing around them. He drew his sword to emphasize his words as he described endless repetitive days of marching, camping, marching, camping, always surrounded by the same faces. Garazeb’s eyes followed the blade as he swept it from side to side in an almost hypnotic fashion, drawing the same shapes over and over. Soon, the mighty guard’s eyelids began to droop. Kanan did not end his story until Garazeb finally slumped back against the wall, slid down to the ground and let out a deep, rumbling snore.

Silent once more, Kanan stepped over the sleeping sentinel and passed through the gate. He shivered as he felt the change in the air that signified he had done what no other living mortal had done: he had walked into the Land of the Dead, the World Between Worlds, the Underworld. Only his blessing from Depa protected him from Death’s icy embrace here.

The tunnel continued onwards, filled with chill, damp air, and Kanan with it. As he walked he became aware of a distant noise, a rushing, roaring sound that grew steadily louder as he proceeded. The tunnel turned a corner and Kanan emerged into an enormous cavern through the center of which thundered a wide river.

On the near shore, where the rocks were wet with spray, a man waited with a boat. Kanan approached him and spoke once more.

“I wish to cross the River of Souls.”

The man looked at Kanan. His face was young, but his eyes were old, and his expression was as cold as the waters of the river.

“I only ferry the dead over this river, and only in one direction.”

“Has anyone living ever asked you for passage?” Kanan challenged.

The man narrowed his eyes. “No. Garazeb does not allow them to pass the gate.”

“So why would you not take me across? I have made it this far, after all.”

“This river washes away all souls who are not worthy of eternal life in the fields beyond,” said the boatman. “If you attempt to cross and are not worthy, you too will be washed away into nothingness.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take.”

“Hm.” The boatman considered Kanan. “Then you will pay me for your passage. I ferry the dead for free because they have nothing, not even their lives, but this is not the case with you. What can you offer?”

After his long journey Kanan had only the barest of essentials, but he knew that what he needed he always carried with him.

“I have no money with me, but I am known for my skill with words,” he told the boatman. “I doubt you have much cause for joy down here; if I can make you smile, will that cover my trip?”

“I suppose it will. But I cannot remember the last time I smiled, and you will not be able to change that.”

“We shall see. Before I begin my story, might I have your name?” Kanan asked.

“I am Ezra, bridger of the River of Souls,” the boatman replied.

Kanan began yet another tale. For the man who had companions every day but not a single one who would stay with him, Kanan told a tale of families, of belonging, of love. His words brought warmth into the air that was chilled by the river’s spray, and light into the cavern that was out of reach of the sun. When he reached the part of the story where the father went back for his son, the corners of the boatman’s mouth twitched upwards.

When Kanan pointed it out, the boatman grumbled. “It was barely a smile. More of a spasm. Doesn’t count. But I’ll suppose I’ll allow you over. Keep telling the story though, it’s a long crossing.”

So Kanan did; he told of the father rescuing the son, and taking him home, and wrapping the boy in blankets and reassuring him that he was safe now, that nothing bad would ever happen to him, and that he was loved. By the time they reached the other shore, the boatman was smiling widely, and a few tears had run down his smooth cheeks.

“That is your second smile,” Kanan told him, “and I will want to make the return trip.”

“Fine,” Ezra agreed, still smiling. “You have earned it.”

There was no tunnel on the other side of the river, but great, rolling fields under a black sky. A road wound between them which Kanan started down. Dimly, he could see pale figures wandering aimlessly over the land. None of them drifted close enough for him to see their forms clearly and he did not deviate from his path forward to investigate. He was close to his goal now; he could feel it.

The road crested a small hill and there before him was his destination: a towering construction of smooth black stone that glinted with a mysterious light. The Palace of Malachor.

The road to the palace entrance was not empty, however. His way forward was blocked by a young woman in full armour. In the dim half-light of the Underworld the armour’s markings were greyscale swirls of shapes and patterns. A matching helmet was tucked under one of her arms.

She caught sight of him immediately.

“You are not dead,” she accused. “You do not belong here.”

“I seek an audience in the palace,” he told her.

“And I seek justice, as I did in life. I will not let you proceed until you are dead.”

Having come so far, Kanan would not let this stop him. Not when he was so close.

“So we will duel,” he said, “and if you win, I will die. But if I beat you, you will let me pass.”

She considered him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

She fitted the helmet over her head and unsheathed the blade at her hip. It was even blacker than the land around them, so dark it seemed to absorb light. Kanan drew his own blade, and their duel began.

The warrior was strong, and quick with her blade, and Kanan soon realised he was outmatched in skill alone. So he began to talk as their blades clashed, and for someone so young who needed so much armour, he told a story of acceptance. He described a young girl forsaken by her family, forced to strike her own path before she was ready. He saw his words have an effect as the warrior’s blows faltered.

He continued, describing the comfort and safety the girl found in the arms of people who accepted her for who she was, and who loved her unconditionally. Her parry went wide and Kanan’s blade slipped past the warrior’s guard to press against her neck. The tear that had blurred her vision fell from under her helmet to splash on his blade. She yielded, and true to her word, allowed him to pass her.

It was not far, then, to his final destination. The doors of Malachor opened to his touch and he stepped into the throne room. Before him sat Maul, Lord of the Underworld, and it was he Kanan addressed.

“O Great Lord of the Dead, I have travelled vast distances to come here before you. My wife, Hera, the light of my life, was taken from me too soon and now she walks in the fields outside this very palace. I have come before you to humbly beg for her return.”

Maul regarded Kanan with utter indifference.

“And why should I do that?”

Kanan took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He told Maul a story, the tale of his long journey to the Underworld, the lands he had crossed and the sights he had seen. He told of how he had surmounted the obstacles from the gate guard to the boatman to the warrior of the fields. He told all of this with his most magical of gifts, but Maul was a god, and unmoved.

He did, however, recognise Kanan’s voice.

“I care not for the trials of mortals before their demise, but you have done me a service in the short life you have led so far. In your love for your wife, you told stories which grew a forest and the numbers of those who live in it. Many of them have, in turn, died, and their souls have come to me. In return for this act I will grant you the chance to see your wife again.”

For the first time since finding Hera in the woods, Kanan allowed himself to feel a spark of hope.

“She is indeed in the fields outside,” Maul continued. “Go to the doors and tell one of your famous stories; she will hear your voice and will come to you. If you then walk back to the land of the living she will follow, and I will make sure none will stop you. But be warned: if you are to see her complete her journey, you cannot look at her while she is still in the Underworld. Do not turn around until you are both standing under the sun once again, or you will never see her again.”

Kanan bowed deeply in gratitude and thanked the Lord of the Underworld before departing his presence to do as he suggested.

Kanan went to stand just outside of the palace doors, and he knew exactly which story to tell: the story of his life. It was one Hera would know well, because she knew him better than he knew himself. He began his telling, and the slightest brush of wind encouraged him to start walking.

As he crossed the fields, he passed the warrior again. It was as he was telling of his childhood and of the importance of family and standing together. Her helmet was tucked back under her arm and she nodded at him respectfully, the faintest of wistful smiles at her lips. She gave no acknowledgement of anyone following him.

He reached the river and the boatman, whose face was back to its stony mask. The man did not hesitate as Kanan approached, remembering their agreement and giving Kanan passage back to the other shore. During the crossing Kanan told of the heartbreak of having everything he knew ripped away from him, and the boatman nodded along mournfully as he steered the boat. Neither when he boarded nor disembarked did Kanan feel the boat respond to anyone else’s movements.

He was telling the legends of the Kasminauts when he came up to the gate. The guardian was awake again and watched him impassively as Kanan approached, recounting his adventures with his brothers. The honour guard gave no indication that anyone was following Kanan but made no move to stop him from leaving the Underworld.

It was as Kanan started the uphill climb through the final tunnel that he reached the best part of his story. This was the part where his travels ended and he met Hera. The most beautiful, perfect woman, who healed him and loved him and gave him everything he needed. His words echoed off the tunnel walls along with the sound of a single set of footsteps.

Kanan had no idea if Hera was following him. He knew, he trusted, that if she had heard him and been able, she would have come to him in the field and would have stayed with him since. But what if she hadn’t? What if Maul had tricked him? What if the warrior had blocked her way, or the boatman had denied her passage, or the guard had closed the gate on her?

He could see the brightness of daylight just ahead of him. If he returned to the overworld now, he would never be able to return. If she wasn’t behind him, he would lose her forever.

He had to know. He could not leave without her.

And so Kanan turned, and was overjoyed to see Hera’s wraith-like spirit only a short distance behind him. But her expression turned to dismay as he looked, and even as he opened his mouth in reassurance, a shadow fell over her.

Maul.

“I warned you not to look,” he spat, face twisted in anger, “and what have you done? Now, you will look no more!”

There was a flash of red, a blinding pain, and Kanan felt himself flung backwards and out of the tunnel. He landed on soft grass and felt the warmth of the sun on his face, though no light came through his eyes. He knew he was back in the mortal realm. He knew he could not return to the Underworld. He knew he had shattered his chance to retrieve Hera.

He cried out in pain and frustration and grief.

But then warm arms gripped him and pulled him into a solid embrace, and a voice spoke in his ear.

“Kanan?”

The most beautiful voice.

“Hera?”

He reached up to where the voice had come from, and his fingers traced an achingly familiar face. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but she was here, with him, alive again.

“Oh, Kanan, your eyes!” she cried. “He has ruined your eyes! How will you see?”

But Kanan smiled.

“I do not need my eyes to see you,” he told her.

And so they returned to their cottage at the edge of the forest, and to their happy life together. Though he was blind, Kanan could still tell his stories, and Hera still loved him deeply. The tale of how Kanan’s love for his wife had driven him to retrieve her from the depths of the Underworld was one he told to many generations of twi’lek in the forest, and it was even more popular than the legends of the Kasminauts.

He was still telling it when, well into old age, he recognised that his time had come. This time, Kanan and Hera travelled together into Death. They greeted the gate guard, the boatman and the warrior like old friends, and hand in hand they stepped into the fields, ready to spend eternity together.

[the-badger-mole]

Traditional

“You scared?” 

Zuko’s mouth pulled down slightly at the corners, but after years of practicing diplomacy and his uncle’s lessons on holding his temper, that was the only show of Zuko’s displeasure. 

“I have no reason to be afraid,” he said. He quirked his brow at Katara and met her gaze pointedly. “According to you.” Katara shrugged, though it was difficult to tell under her heavy, fur lined parka. 

“Well, Dad and Sokka already like you,” she reminded him.”It’s just everyone else you have to convince.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, wishing that the Southern Water Tribe was like...well any place else in the world. Having the Chief and his heir on his side would have been enough in literally any other country in the world. But this wasn’t anywhere in the world. This was the Southern Water Tribe. Their numbers were still small after all this time, and they were fiercely loyal to each other. Families were intimately involved in each others’ lives. Beside him, Katara nudged him gently. He felt the comforting pressure of it through his own thick parka. 

“You’re going to be fine,” she promised, flashing him a reassuring smile.

 Her eyes were full of trust and confidence, and it bolstered Zuko’s own. But only just slightly. After all, he was about to ask her entire extended family for their blessing to marry her. It was...daunting. 

“What if...what if they don’t like this?” Zuko asked. Katara shrugged with a bravado that Zuko knew she didn’t feel. 

“I already said yes,” she said. “I’m old enough to make my own choices. Dad, Sokka and Gran Gran will understand. If anyone else has a problem with it...well, we just won’t invite them to the wedding.” 

“I don’t want to cause problems with you and your family,” Zuko lowered his voice, as if anyone could hear him. He and Katara had climbed to the ship’s crows nest, both for the privacy and to catch the first glimpse of Katara’s home. Katara sighed and rested her head against Zuko’s shoulder.  “You’re my family,” Katara said firmly. “I love you, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Besides, we’ve been dating for two years. There were only two ways for this to end.” 

Zuko sighed and pressed his forehead against  Katara’s hair. She was right, of course. As Fire Lord, openly courting a woman meant that she was being seriously considered as his wife. He and Katara had spoken at length about the expectations before they decided to start dating. Then they spent another eternity talking with Iroh, Hakoda and Sokka about the expectations before going public with their relationship. If anyone was taken by surprise by their engagement at this point, then it was really out of Katara and Zuko’s hands. They had followed protocol more strictly than any Fire Lord and potential Fire Lady had in at least the last two centuries.Still...

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going to happen here?” Zuko asked. Katara sat up and shrugged. 

“I’ve told you what I could,” she said. “You have to speak to my father, Gran Gran and Sokka about your intention. Then you present me with your gifts, and then my closest male relatives take you hunting.” 

That was the part that gave Zuko pause. He knew better than to think Hakoda or Sokka would harm him (permanently), but Katara said that Bato and Pakku would likely be there as well. Zuko had interacted with both men a handful of times since the end of the war, and they had been courteous, if a bit cold. They grew even more frigid after he started dating Katara. He wasn’t sure how either of them would treat him out on the tundra. Away from Katara. Away from witnesses in general. It would be all too easy to arrange an accident...

“Would you stop worrying?” Katara reached up and poked Zuko where his brow furrowed over his nose. “It’ll be fine. You’ve been hunting before.” 

“Not on ice,” Zuko grumbled. “And never while trying to impress my fiancee’s family.” 

“Don’t worry, they already like you!” 

Zuko recalled the last time he had interacted with Katara’s step-grandfather and waterbending master. He had given the Water Tribe elder a deep, respectful bow-something unheard of for a Fire Lord to do. He rose to find Pakku eyeing him critically and prepared with a comment on how sloppy the bow was, and how in the Northern Tribe, young men were taught to show their elders the utmost respect. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Zuko said, casting his narrowed gaze over the horizon. “Are you ready?” Katara leaned up and pressed a kiss to Zuko’s cheek.

“I’ve been ready for this for two years.” 

****

Per the Southern Water Tribe’s custom, Katara disembarked the ship first, on a dinghy, so she could greet Zuko with her family. As the chief’s daughter,  all of the Southern Tribe was considered family, and so had the right to be there when Zuko came to ask for a blessing on his and Katara’s upcoming marriage.

 For two days Zuko was left on his ship while the village prepared for his official arrival. Any representatives from the surrounding villages who wanted to be present would arrive during this time, and the family members who would be joining the hunt would make sure that their supplies were ready. Ordinarily, the suitor would have his own preparations to make, but Zuko had done everything he was supposed to before he left Caldera. All he could do for two days was drive himself, his uncle and his crew insane with last minute worries. 

“What if she doesn’t like what I got her?” Zuko asked his uncle.

“I’m sure she’ll love your gifts,” Iroh assured him. 

“Has the guest room been prepared in case her grandmother wants to come back with us?” Zuko asked the ship’s captain. It was a possibility that Katara had prepared him for. Usually, the mother of the intended went with her daughter to her future home to help get her set up and meet her future in-laws. Kanna might not feel up to the cross ocean trek, but she might decide to go after all. Zuko wanted to make sure the voyage was as comfortable as possible.

Then Zuko had inventory taken on all the supplies he had brought for Katara’s village. In the eight years since the end of the war, the Southern Water Tribe had slowly, but surely begun to come into their own power. Still, Katara assured him that the extra fabric, metal, and spices would be welcomed. When he was done with all of that, there was nothing left for him to do but wait. 

Finally, at around noon on the second day, it was finally time for the Fire Lord to arrive in the village. Stepping off of the boat felt eerily similar to the first time he had first set foot onto the icy land eight years earlier. Things had certainly changed. He was no longer a desperate 16 year-old boy on an impossible mission. He wore practical wool and furs instead of slightly too large battle armor. The piers had been rebuilt in the intervening time, and Zuko had seen them himself several times before without the odd knot in his stomach. But like that first time, he was met with rows of solemn faces staring at him, uncertainly. He was once again an unwelcome foreigner come to disturb their peace.

There were some friendly faces in the crowd, Zuko had to remind himself. There a few Tribesmen and women he had gotten the chance to know over the past few years of peace. Some he had begun nascent friendships with before he had even allowed himself to hope Katara liked him the way he liked her. Nukilik, the village armsmith flashed him a grin and what Zuko could only assume were two thumbs up. It was hard to tell through the thick mittens, but it made more sense than the man balling his hands into fists. 

Hakoda and Sokka were there, too. Zuko noticed with relief that neither of them seemed upset to see him. Hakoda smiled the placid, slightly tired smile Zuko had learned to recognize over the years. Sokka’s grin was slightly more disturbing- more of a baring of teeth than a smile, paired with a mischievous gleam.

“Welcome, Fire Lord Zuko,” Hakoda greeted him formally, but warmly grasping his forearm in the traditional Water Tribe greeting. “I heard your trip was smooth. I hope it was also pleasant.”

“It was,” Zuko said loud enough for the bystanders to hear.”We made better time than I’d hoped.”

“Of course you did,” Sokka declared, grabbing his friend’s arm the way Hakoda had. Then he pulled Zuko into a one armed hug, slapping the young Fire Lord hard on the back. “You had a master waterbender with you.”

“We should get going,” Hakoda said. “There are others who are anxious to see you’ve made it here safe.” Zuko blushed a deep red as a wave of laughter passed through the crowd. They knew exactly what Hakoda meant. And just like that, Zuko was accepted by them. The awkward suitor of a daughter of their tribe.

The crowd fell in line behind Zuko’s small entourage. He walked at the head with Hakoda and Sokka in an informal procession through the town. The buildings were nowhere near as ornate as those he had seen in the Northern Water Tribe, but Zuko recognized a bustling, prosperous town. The houses and shops were like the people of the Southern Tribe- practical, sturdy and possessing a unique grace all their own. In the middle of the village stood a long low hall that served as Hakoda’s seat of power, the village community center, and for today, a banquet hall. 

Katara sat at a table on a raised platform with her Gran Gran and Master Pakku. She wore a parka lined with pristine white and grey fur. Her hair had been done in elaborate looping braids that had been fastened with bead and ivory combs.On her forehead had been painted a dark crescent moon. The mark of the brave she earned years earlier, she had once explained to Zuko. She was all Water Tribe today. To Zuko, she had never seemed more regal and queenly- not even in her Ambassador’s robes- and he wanted to stop and thank everyone present for giving rise to the most compassionate, strong, intelligent and beautiful Fire Lady the world would ever know. But he restrained himself. He hadn’t officially declared his intentions yet. 

Hakoda and Sokka clapped Zuko on the back almost hard enough to knock him to his knees, but Zuko managed to stay standing. Then they left him at the foot of what he now recognized as a dias, and took their seats. Hakoda at the center with his children on either side of him. 

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Hakoda addressed him in a somber tone. “Why have you come?” It wasn’t exactly a friendly start to this conversation, but Katara had told Zuko to expect this.He glanced up at Katara and found her watching him. She gave him a small, supportive smile and nodded slightly. Spirits, she was gorgeous. Zuko tried to swallow and unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say the words Katara had told him to say. 

“Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe,”he managed to say clearly.”Honored elders,” he bowed to Kanna and Pakku, “beloved family,” he turned to acknowledge the people gathered in the hall. “I have come to make it known that I intend to marry your daughter, Master Katara, and I humbly ask your blessings.”  The room fell uncomfortably silent. After a moment, he risked a glance up. Hakoda was watching him with a stoney eyed stare.  It wasn’t quite angry, but it wasn’t exactly encouraging, either. 

“Here in the Southern Water Tribe a marriage is not to be entered into lightly,” he began after a long pause. “When a couple decides to join their lives together, they agree to protect each other. Each has their own duty to the home and family they will build together, and neither is more or less important. Can you promise to help her build a safe and sturdy home together?”

Safe and sturdy were so subjective. He could provide Katara a palace with loyal and well trained guards. Even with the Fire Nation’s funds diminished with the costs of rebuilding infrastructure, providing for the financially devastated poor and making reparations to the nations damaged by his family’s war, Zuko’s wife and children would want for nothing substantial. Still he knew that as beloved as Master Katara, the Water Tribe Ambassador had become, there would always be people opposed to a foreign Fire Lady, just as there would always be opposed to the Fire Lord who ended the war that made whole generations of Fire Nobility wealthy. But Katara had acknowledged those obstacles, and she had still chosen him- him!- in spite of the risks. Zuko wasn’t afraid for her or himself or their children. They had faced down worse odds together. Zuko met Katara’s eye once more, taking courage from the way they seemed to gleam in the lantern light. 

“I promise,” Zuko swore. He knew what was coming next. He was neither surprised nor dismayed when Hakoda spoke again. 

“Words are not enough. Words alone are empty and can be spent lightly.” Hakoda’s stone-faced expression broke slightly, and Zuko thought he saw the beginning of a smile. “You will have a chance to prove your ability to provide. Tomorrow you will join me and my son, Sokka on a hunt. If your kill is acceptable to my daughter, it will serve as your betrothal feast.” 

 With that, Hakoda stood and left the assembly with Sokka and Katara following behind him. Kanna and Pakku feel in behind them, followed by the village elders. Finally, Zuko and his entourage were guided to where they would stay for the duration of the trip. Iroh, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the ceremony, nudged his nephew in the ribs. He grinned up at Zuko excitedly. 

“You did so well, Fire Lord Zuko!” he stage whispered. “I’m very proud of you. And so, may I add, was Master Katara.” Zuko didn’t feel that he had done much at all. He’d barely spoken- had barely had the chance to speak- and he would have to trek the icy tundra the next day and hope he didn’t embarrass himself too badly in front of his future in-laws. But then he remembered how Katara’s proud look when he’d caught her eye, and Zuko knew he’d go anywhere and accomplish any task if it meant he got to be with her for the rest of his life. 

*.*.*.*.*

“I know Dad has to look strong and dignified in front of everyone,” Katara said.  “But he could have at least cracked a smile up there.” 

There hadn’t been an official banquet that evening. Hakoda had predicted that his guests would be tired after their journey, so Zuko’s crew had gone to dinner at the inn where they would be staying for this trip, and Zuko and Iroh, along with a couple of guards, were staying with Hakoda and his family. After dinner, everyone adjourned to their rooms for the evening, leaving Zuko and Katara the common room. They were curled up together on a pile of cushions and rugs in front of the fire, discussing the day, just like they had done almost every night for the past two years. 

“I’m sure this isn’t easy on him,” Zuko pointed out in reply to Katara’s complaint. “You’re his only daughter, and you’re not only getting married, you’ll be moving across the world from him.” 

“I’ve been the Water Tribe Ambassador for three years!” Katara reminded him. “It’s not like my living situation is going to change. Well,” Katara looked up and winked at Zuko, “not much.” 

“It’s going to be  a bigger change than you think,” Zuko said thoughtfully. “The Ambassador thing was always going to be temporary. Eventually, you would have decided to move on to something else, or get married and start a family-” Zuko allowed a small smile to cross his face as he pulled Katara a bit closer. “He probably assumed you would be a little closer to home when that happened. He’s going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss him, too,” Katara admitted. “And Sokka and Gran Gran and Suki and Pakku. But I’ll visit as often as I can. Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever been Daddy’s Lil’ Princess.”

“Katara, your dad is the Chief of the entire Southern Water Tribe,” Zuko chuckled. “You’re everyone’s princess.”

“I told you, that’s not how it works down here,” Katara huffed. “I’m not-”

“Officially a princess,” Zuko completed, rolling his eyes. “I know, I know. But you are still really important here. Whether you want to admit it or not, you pretty much are a princess.”

“I am not!” Zuko noticed with no small amount of amusement that Katara was blushing. He grinned mischievously. 

“I think I should talk with your dad about getting you a crown,” he teased. Katara jabbed his ribs with her elbow. 

“Don’t you start giving people ideas,” she chided. “If dad gives me a crown, Sokka’s going to insist on having one, and his head is swollen enough without adding the weight.”

“You’re going  to have a crown soon anyway,” Zuko pointed out. “Maybe you should have one just to get used to it.” Katara hummed thoughtfully and nestled into Zuko’s side. 

“Do I have to wear a crown?” she asked. “What if I just got some really fancy beads?” 

Zuko reached up and brushed his fingers against Katara’s braids. The truth was he couldn’t care less about what she wore when she was Fire Lady. He’d made it clear to his advisors that she would be welcome to integrate elements of her own culture in their day to day life at the palace. Still..

“You should probably have one for formal occasions, at least,” he said thoughtfully. “But aside from that, you can do whatever you like with your hair. And your clothes.” Zuko’s fingers wandered away from her hair to the thick fur lining her hood. “I wouldn’t recommend fur, though.” 

“I don’t know,” Katara shrugged. “I think showing up to a council meeting in a full fur parka would be a serious power move.”

“Most of them are already afraid of you. But whatever you want, my love, is fine with me.” 

“Aw!” Katara twisted around and planted a kiss on the edge of Zuko’s jaw. “You’re so good to me.” Despite two years and many kisses, Katara still managed to make Zuko blush. 

“Ick!” The pair turned to find Sokka cringing in the doorway. “You two are so gross.”

“Oh, please!” Katara snorted. “You and Suki are just as bad.” At the mention of his wife, Sokka’s face crumpled miserably. 

“Suki!” he wailed. “Why’d you have to bring her up? I’d almost forgotten to miss her today.” 

“She’ll be home in two weeks.” Katara rolled her eyes, unsympathetically. Suki was back in Kyoshi to visit her aunt. It was the first time she’d been back since her and Sokka’s wedding almost a year earlier, and Sokka had been supportive of the trip, but he hadn’t counted on missing her so much. 

“It feels different being apart when you’re married,” Sokka lamented. “You’ll find out.” Then with a menacing smirk he added, “You know, assuming you come back from the hunting trip.” Katara felt Zuko tense up and she glared at her brother. 

“Stop teasing him,” she scolded. She brushed her fingers across Zuko’s cheek. “He’s going to be fine.” Zuko turned his head and kissed the palm of Katara’s hand. Sokka shuddered. 

‘Have you ever actually been hunting?” Sokka asked Zuko. “This is a pretty big deal. The entire village is invited to this party. It’s a bad look if you don’t bring enough food for everyone.” 

“Sokka!” Katara sat up and fixed her brother with a warning glare. Sokka threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Whatever,” he said. “But you really should go to bed soon. We’re leaving early tomorrow. Anyway, I’m turning in. Go back to being gross.” When he was gone, Zuko glanced down at Katara nervously. 

“I have hunted before,” he said softly as if spilling some deep dark secret. “But it was just small animals. It was right before...before Ba Sing Se. Never anything like...” Zuko motioned around the room at the trophies from other hunts. There were large ivory tusks hanging from the walls and thick, furs trapping the precious heat. Everything came from animals at least as big as he was. 

“Are you worried you can’t do it?” Katara asked. Zuko felt a rush of heat to his face. 

“Well...what if I can’t?” he asked. “If this is how I propose, will we not be allowed to marry if I can’t bring in a...a...” Once again, Zuko gestured around the room. Katara sat up, pulling away from Zuko’s embrace so she could face him. 

“First of all,” she held up a finger under his nose, “I’ve already agreed to marry you. All we’re doing here is telling people and giving you a chance to bond with my family. Second,” another finger joined the first, “Dad and Sokka are expert hunters. You’ll come back with something, I guarantee it. Third, I love you, and there’s nothing that can change that, so stop freaking out about this. It’s supposed to be fun.” 

“Fun,” Zuko snorted, but he did feel better. 

“Promise you’ll at least try to have fun?” Katara rolled her eye, feigning exasperation. Zuko kissed her forehead and nodded. 

“I’ll try,” he promised. 

“Great!” Katara resettled into her previous spot, curled up with Zuko with a happy sigh. 

“I have to go to bed,” Zuko protested weakly. 

“Fire more minutes,” Katara said. “I won’t see you for a few days, so I want my cuddle time now.” 

Part 1, Part 2,   Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[missgarnet]

Where We Stand

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count:5.7k

Genre: angst with fluff

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past miscarriage, blood and injury, Duchess Min and other characters from Stay,  I swear there’s a happy ending

Summary by @minjoonalist​: fluff, pain, almost pain, spain without the s' and fluff?

Link to ao3

Happy Birthday @sope-and-shine​ Belle, I love you! (also I’m sorry for not killing anyone off in this story, I just couldn’t) 

I also want to say thank you to @minjoonalist​ and @sope-and-shine​‘s Fae for reading through this to helping me edit and think of titles!

“How do I look darling?” you ask, slipping the thin dagger into the hidden slit in the corseted top of your dress.

The duke stepped closer to you and took in the reflection of the two of you together. You watched in the mirror as he swept your hair to the side and started to kiss you, his lips a gentle whisper against your neck. “You look… powerful. I’d have to be an imbecile to ignore that.”

“Is that it?”

You feel his lips forming a smirk against your skin, “Of course not, you’re stunning and you know it just as well as I do. How was I lucky enough to find a wife as brilliant and beautiful as you.” His hands find themselves at your waist, trailing back to play with the laces of your dress.

“Yoongi,” you laugh as you swat his hands away. “They just finished getting me all dressed up in this, I don’t want to call the maids back to retie this again.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already, you normally make them redo this until it’s as tight as you can get and both of you are exhausted.” He wraps you in his arms again and turns the two of you to face the mirror, “unless you’re…”

He can feel the sharp breath you take, realizing he’d figured it out. “Please, don’t get excited, it's too early for that. I don’t want to tell anyone else just yet.”

“Who else knows?”

“My maid, she thought it was weird when I asked her to find dresses with a higher waistline. She figured it out pretty soon, and I politely asked her not to say anything just yet.”

“Mmhmm, and what do you mean by politely asking this time.”

“I may have… accidentally… threatened to have her tongue removed if she so much as hinted to it”

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the few moments of alone time you had left. The two of you rushed to finish getting dressed for the day, this meaning countless weapons being discreetly tucked away in the many hidden pockets of your clothing. It was an important day, and you made it a rule to be prepared for anything and everything that could go wrong. Today you had one mission and no one was going to get in your way, not even the king himself.

Looking back you should have said no when she asked you to walk her down the aisle. Traditionally she should have had a family member to give her away, but tradition be damned, if your best friend and closest ally wanted you by her side then nothing was getting in your way.

By the time you got there the poor dear was already panicking as she paced the floor of her dressing room. “What if I mess up or trip and the entire court starts making fun of me”

“I’ll give them something else to talk about.” You said, instinctively reaching toward your favourite dagger. It’s jeweled angel wings sitting at the very top of your gown, giving the appearance of a simple broach when tucked into it’s spot atop your corset.

“Y/N, no weapons. How many times do we have to say this, stabbing people doesn’t solve problems. It only creates more.”

You scoffed at her reply, knowing fully well that it was the first thought you had. “First of all, I wasn’t going to stab anyone… this time. Second, there’s no rule against blackmail or accidently sharing information that would draw far more attention to others.”

“I don’t know how you did this. You didn’t even know Yoongi when the two of you got married, I’ve known Tae far longer and I’m still way too nervous for all of this.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “I was a wreck on my wedding day. Hell, I practically had to be dragged down the aisle and I would have clawed my way out if I could. I wanted nothing to do with it, then again that wasn’t really up to me. Even afterwards I was still too nervous to actually talk to him, it was much easier to argue and plot all the ways I could get rid of him.”

“You were planning to divorce him?”

“Oh Queenie, divorce was mild compared to what I had in mind.” You smiled at the memories of when you first moved in with your husband. The two of you had barely spent a minute alone, and were at each other's throats any time you were in the same room. He expected someone docile, sweet, and a little fearful of him the way that almost everyone else was. What he hadn’t expected was to be matched with a wife even more stubborn and intimidating than he was, you had become the first true rivalry he had ever experienced and it was thrilling.

It didn’t help him to find out that he had met the only person with a reputation worse than his own among the court, nor that you had found ways to win over his entire staff in a matter of days. Despite being incredibly talented and an excellent asset to have on his side, Yoongi seemed determined to prove that he was still the one in charge for those first few months. Everyday was a competition and the two of you had engaged in a seemingly endless battle of bickering and petty vengeance against one another. Your favourite of these occurred after he made it a point of removing you from a meeting with the generals. He should have known better than to mess with someone who was feared by the court and adored by both his family and his staff.

That next morning as the sun began to rise Yoongi was nearly blinded by the amount of light pouring into his chambers, waking up to the smell of burnt fabric and charred toast. You could hardly contain your laughter when one of the staff recalled being called into the sight of him slipping on his robe only to find that the right sleeve had been completely torn off. Tears ran down your face as you heard about him storming around the room looking for something to wear to meet you at the breakfast table only to find most of his clothes had been sent off to the tailor to be altered or repaired in some way and he had been left with an assortment of mismatched clothing and heavy winter suits. That morning neither of you felt willing to give each other the satisfaction of reacting to the other’s actions. Showing weakness was to show defeat, and neither of you planned on losing. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of just pride as you watched your husband shift in his seat clearly displeased with the current state he was in, almost laughing as he hobbled in missing his left shoe.

You had almost missed the defeated sigh he gave as he took his seat across from you. If he were like any other man you knew, he’d have given you the outburst of rage that you had been preparing yourself for. Instead he had a rather gentle gaze as he met your eyes from across the table and spoke in a soft almost admiring tone, “We can’t keep doing this. I mean seriously, destroying my curtains, burning my breakfast, and ridding me of my entire wardrobe in one morning. And why? I’ve done nothing to offend you.”

The servants quickly began backing out of the room in anticipation of another argument between the two of you.  “Nothing? You really think you’ve nothing wrong?” The icy glare you were so determined to keep directed at him was the only thing holding tears of frustration at bay. But you refused to let him or anyone else see you crying. “Yoongi, you undermine me at every opportunity available, making sure that I have no say in what is going on around me. I have no family here, no friends, no allies on my side. Everything here is about you, while I am constantly pushed aside and belittled by even your guards and servants. I was one of the most brilliant women my age. I learned the arts of battle, bribery, and blackmail by the age of five, and perfected each of them by eleven. And the worst part is all of that is going to waste, I am wasting away and it is all your fault.”

“I’m sorry I had no clue. I just thought you’d want a break from having to fight all the time, I guess I should have noticed this was wrong when you seemed so determined to argue at every opportunity possible.

“You really are an idiot sometimes.”

He laughed at this, the two of you finally sharing a moment of understanding and bonding over as you later called it his very best moment of complete stupidity.

As you sat there recalling all of this your eyes began to water and you let out a quiet sniffle. The two of you had been through so much since then and with very limited exceptions you wouldn’t change a thing. You may not have had the best of beginnings with each other, but he’d done his best to make up for that every day that you’ve shared since then. The two of you still bickered, but it was more affectionate and caring now that you’d decided to save your fury to defend one another.

“Y/N are you crying?” your best friend placed her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“No, of course not.” You tried to dry your eyes, but the gesture was not as subtle as you had hoped. “Fine maybe a little. I think I’m just feeling sentimental, all this wedding stuff had me thinking about when Yoongi and I were newly married and the time we had our first good fight”

“You still haven’t told me what happened to the shoes, and everytime I tried to ask the staff they just got really quiet and seemed like they were too afraid to speak.”

“Well, I took all of his left shoes and I had one of my maids put a box outside his room. Then I took most of them and put them away in the box, and I sent the rest away to be burned.”

“You burned his shoes”

“Only the left ones, and only the pairs I didn’t like. Besides if I were to do that now there would have been a lot more of them being burned, I swear just the smell of that shoe polish is enough to make me sick nowadays. Then again there’s been a lot of things that do.”

“Are you, you know?” The young queen-to-be asked, doing her best to emphasize the implied meaning.

“Am I what,” you asked, a challenging tone in your voice. It was obvious she knew, but if she wanted to ask she would have to use her words.

She gives you a knowing smile and pulls you in for a hug, “Congratulations Y/N!”

“Oh, shut up” you laughed trying to hide how nervous you were feeling. Yes she was your best friend, but this pregnancy was news you didn’t want out to the public just yet. “Today is your day, I don’t want to take away from that.”

She rushes to the clock at this realizing the two of you were running horribly behind schedule. As you rush through the halls together, you do your best to pin her veil in place and keep the train of her dress from collecting dust and dirt from the floor. Both of you pause outside the closed doors grandly looming before you, your faces warm and nearly out of breath.

You begin the task of fixing her appearance one last time before everything starts changing again. She was always so small and quiet when you first met. You never thought such a timid young woman would come this far, but something about her just spoke of being so much more than just another commoner. And now here she was in the most delicate white gown with layers of chiffon carefully draped over each other and tiny sleeves resting just off of her shoulders, looking more composed and regal than anyone you’ve ever seen before. The light reflects against some of the crystals sewn into her veil almost creating a halo around her. The light airy dress looked stunning on her and seemed even brighter as the two of you stood side by side. All the intricate layering and the bright white of her dress contrasted beautifully against yours. It wasn’t your original plan but the midnight blue gown and it’s simple pattern seemed to exaggerate your figure in the best of ways. It’s plain bodice and jeweled collar drew attention up and away from the changes you were hoping to hide.

The doors are drawn open and the two of you take a sharp breath as you begin the long anticipated journey down the aisle. To anyone else she would seem calm and composed, but you knew better, “You know, I’ve still got the carriage waiting outside. Say the word and we’ll start running. I’ll even lead the horses myself if that’s what it takes.”

You can see the slight bounce of her shoulders as she begins silently laughing. Looking around you begin to hold on to faces in the crowd, doing your best to remember where everyone was seated to use for later. It was a shock to see Namjoon and his new bride so close to the front, you thought they’d be in the back where she’d be hidden away from the prying eyes of so many nobles. After all, their relationship had been quite a scandal and she was much too far along to hide anything. What didn’t surprise you was the look on Taehyung’s face when he saw you and his fiance nearing the altar. The two of them were stupidly in love with each other and you could see that from a mile away.

You found yourself rather exhausted after all the excitement from the queen’s wedding, deciding to take just a short break at home before involving yourself with any of the court’s drama for a while. It was meant to be just a week, maybe two at the most but as time went by it felt much better to be in the manor with Yoongi than anywhere else. The two of you were still bickering like any other day, but being at home gave you a space away from the rest of the court once you’d started showing. The two of you became cautiously excited about your future child, still too worried to be fully invested but getting closer as each week went by.

There had been a few rough times along the way, but everything had been going well for the most part. That little piece of hope growing each day was worth any of the worries and discomforts you were facing, even the morning sickness that lasted much longer than you would have preferred. You thought things were getting better until another worrisome incident took place.

“Yoongi,  I started bleeding this morning, and something feels very wrong.”

“Are you alright?” He shook his head realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry that’s a ridiculous question. What are you feeling, is there anything I can do?”

“I’m scared Yoongs, I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t tell if it’s normal or if it’s going poorly again. It can’t end like last time, I can’t lose another. I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done, I just don’t want to be alone.”

He crawled up into the oversized bed beside you, gently taking you in his arms as he brushed your hair aside. “I know there’s nothing you or I can do and it’s completely out of our control, but I want you to remember I’m here and I will always love you no matter what.”

The midwife had a sad smile when she entered the room. Mrs. Lee was one of the oldest staff members serving the Mins, having delivered you herself. It warmed her heart to see the two of you curled up together so caring and gentle for once. She had originally been hired to act as a wet nurse, but when your mother went into early labor the midwife had been by her side. You’d practically been raised by her along with a few other maids, so when you found out you were with child there was only one person you wanted to have with you.

Mrs. Lee had seen you grow from a small frail infant to a rather intelligent young woman, and knew almost all of the struggles you had faced along the way. It was always her that you went to with any problems whether it was scraped knees or scheming nobles. Your first pregnancy was rough to say the least, and she was there for all of it holding your hand when everything came to it’s heartbreaking end.

And here she is now, doing her best to keep you calm as she conducts her exam. You begin to shift as you feel another one of the pains you’d felt earlier. It wasn’t horrible, only strange and unpleasant. Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead while you begin to play with his hands to distract yourself. The two lay holding tight to one another as you wait for the midwife’s news. As she felt your stomach, Mrs. Lee paused for a moment furrowing her brow before suddenly bursting out in a smile unlike any other.

“Your Grace, I have good news and even better news. First off your child is in perfect health at the time being.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief, both of you feeling as though a large weight had been lifted.

“Second is those little pains you were complaining about. It’s not something going wrong that feeling is from the baby kicking. A lot of mothers complain about it being an odd feeling, but it’s good and it means that the baby’s doing well.”

“They didn’t kick last time,” you whispered.

“I know Angel,” she explained. “But you’re much further along this time, and you seem much healthier. Having some spotting this late is a bit concerning, but so long as you start getting enough rest and I keep checking up on you, I don’t think we have anything we need to be too worried about. I’m going to head out now and give the two of you some space, but you can call for me at any time even if it’s something small.”

Mrs. Lee excused herself and quietly left the two of you on your own once more. Yoongi loosened his embrace and turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes and the biggest gummy smile he’s had. You take your hand and place his against your stomach where your unborn child kept kicking. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he finally felt something, “They kicked! They actually-” He laughed and gave a joyful little sigh at this, “I love you so much Angel, you’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I love you too Yoongs, I couldn’t do any of this without you. We’re going to be a great team, but I think our child is going to need a name pretty soon.”

Yoongi gave you an evil grin, “We should name her Yoonji”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m going to be sick,” you announced pressing your hand to your stomach. “We are not naming her after your sister, she’s too much of a b-”

“You can’t keep calling her a bitch, especially when we’re in front of others,” he tried to sound exasperated but the laughter that followed quickly put an end to that act.

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous argument the two of you kept falling into, surely there were more important things than your opinions and not so backhanded comments about his sister. “Please be serious. If you could choose any name for our child, what would it be?”

“What about Aria for a girl’s name?”

You smile and take his hand in yours once more, “I think it’s beautiful, but we’re not going to need it. We are having a son.”

“My Love, I have no doubt that you know just about everything but we’re not going to find out until they’re here. There’s no way of being sure.”

“No, I’m absolutely sure. This child will be our first beautiful little boy, and I know I’m right. It’s a mother’s instinct and I’m never wrong.”

“Then what are you suggesting, since you’re never wrong.”

“What about Hyun-Su?”

“It’s perfect.”

You pull him closer and reach up to cup his face between your hands, “We’re going to be good at this, right? They’re going to turn out better than we did.”

“I hope so,” he turns his head slightly as he presses his lips to each of your palms. “Regardless they’re going to grow up knowing that they have two parents who will love and fight for them no matter what.”

The two of you stayed under the covers, wrapped in this moment of relief and utter bliss at knowing that your child would grow to be safe, healthy, and above all else loved. What you didn’t know was that this joy would be short lived as much grimmer news was always just around the corner. You had found out quite some time before Yoongi, receiving the letter from one of the associates you had within the court. Oftentimes it paid to have eyes and ears throughout the kingdom, but for possibly the first time you regretted having this knowledge. The letter shook in your hands as you considered your choices, you could send help but you knew there would be some kind of trap lying in wait. There was no way you would risk losing Yoongi to such an obvious scheme, even if it meant sacrificing someone else. Throwing the parchment into the fireplace you watched as all of it crumbled to ash.

The letters kept coming, this time from the Southern Kims themselves each one growing more desperate in their pleas for assistance. It would be one thing to send soldiers, but you knew Yoongi would try to go with and fight the second he heard that Seokjin was in danger. The Kims were kind and had been there for you and your husband every time you needed help, they deserved better and it broke your heart to turn them away knowing that they and their children were likely to die.

At first you just hid them in the pockets of your dress, but after one had nearly slipped out in front of Yoongi you had taken more precautions in hiding the precious information contained in the writing. It began with storing them under the dresser, and then in your pillowcase, burning them the second you had a chance. You had been pulling up the floorboards in search of a new hiding place when Yoongi finally found out. Pushing the envelope under your skirts you had tried to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Unfortunately your husband was more observant than you would like to give him credit for and he had known you long enough to know how you’d try to hide something.

“Yoongi, you can’t go. These aren’t just another group of ruthless barbarians stupid enough to slaughter their own men, they’ll know that you’re coming and they will plan for that.”

“I’ll meet with the generals before I go, we’ll come up with a plan. It will be alright, I promise.” He took your hand in his willing you both to believe the words he said.

You pulled away from him as you stood, “Very well, we can meet with the generals and send troops to help the Kims. However, you are staying here.”

“No, Jin might get on my nerves at times but he’s one of my closest friends. I’m not going to do nothing while he and his family are at risk.”

“What about our family? I know I didn’t want to get too excited about anything, but we don’t have very long until we’re parents ourselves.”

“I’ll be back before the baby comes, without so much as a scratch. I promise.”

“Please don’t. Don’t make promises that we both know aren’t guaranteed.” You took a shakey breath, “Yoongi, I rarely ask anything of you, but this time I am begging you please don’t go. I can’t lose you- we can’t lose you.”

He said something, but you could hardly process the words as his footsteps echoed across the floor, he left you with the hollow sound of your bedroom doors swinging shut behind him and a simple apology mumbled from behind the sealed doors.

You refused to sit and do nothing as your husband led himself to slaughter, if there was anyway to prevent his death you would find it. Collecting all the debts and favours owed to you by the less than upstanding members of the court was just the beginning. It took more bribing and blackmail than you had bargained for, but you got other nobles to send the reinforcements you needed. Lady Park had been all too cooperative after you happened to mention a certain nude portrait and it’s current whereabouts, she and her husband sent twice the guards you had asked for and even provided maps of the area. As for the others, some were less generous but were still eager to compensate you for information or silence in one way or another. The Northern Kims were unable to send any troops of their own. However, Namjoon’s young wife had provided a sizable amount of gold and information on a mercenary group that was up to the job. You had nothing to use against them and didn’t know of anything they were in need of, but for some reason she had given you help regardless. It was a small kindness, but a greatly appreciated one in your time of need.

Everything was in place and you’d given the go ahead for them to approach the men surrounding the Southern Palace, but you’d yet to hear back from any of your troops. All of this had been meant as a backup plan in case something went wrong, but as days turned into weeks Yoongi’s chances of success were growing smaller. You’d taken to pacing the halls at night as your due date drew nearer, he should have been back by now.

“Y/N, you have to rest. You're putting too much stress on your body and that’s not good for you or the baby,” Mrs. Lee warned as she pushed your hair away from your face.

“ Well... seeing as how he’s the one causing all of this, you can take that up with Yoongi once he’s back. Until then I’ll be up doing everything I can to make sure that he comes home in one piece.”

Mrs. Lee didn’t seem too fond of your reply and folded her arms across her chest, “I’ll be sure to mention that, but until then I want you to be resting as much as possible and taking care of yourself. So little miss, you will be in bed, eating three full meals a day, and you will not be fussing over all of this anymore. What’s done is done and all we can do is wait.”

One of the maids came knocking at your door, disturbing your mandated rest. Somehow you’d become even more confined to your room after the slight back pains you’d felt that morning. You’d been told to get your rest and avoid getting too worked up. Mrs. Lee would be furious if she found out, but she wasn’t the one in charge here and you had told them to wake you at any hour if they had news from your husband. The young girl had placed a small parcel before you and saw her way out as quietly as possible. You tore the small bow apart, unwrapping it as quickly as possible, tearing the paper piece by piece until you felt shredded wet fabric against your hands.

From the mess you were able to identify one of Yoongi’s jackets, torn to bits and coated in sweat from the battlefield. You’d grown used to seeing things like this, but what stopped you in your tracks were the warm heavily saturated stains of blood that had seeped into the cut fabric. He’d sent you these before, but never in this condition. The two of you had a running joke that he could damage any clothing or armor he wore in a fight, so long as he came home unharmed. But this didn’t seem like it came from someone else, if he had been wearing this then it had to be his blood. Picking up the paper, you looked again for a ransom note, a threatening letter, anything that would tell you that he was still alive, but there was nothing else. He was gone and there was nothing you could do about it.

You felt a sob forming as a different kind of pain tore through you. It was a kind of pressure that brought you to your knees, crying out as Mrs. Lee rushed to your side. She helped you to the edge of the bed, helping you to lay back as she wiped the tears from your eyes.

“It’s going to be alright Y/N, we’re gonna get through this.”

“I can’t- I can’t do this alone. I’m not ready.”

Mrs. Lee takes your hand and squeezes it in hers, “You’re not alone, I’m right here with you

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, he’s gone.”

“Now that’s enough of that, you need to save your energy. I was trying to keep you from going into labor this soon, but it looks like it’s about time to push.” You shook your head at Mrs. Lee’s words as you tried to delay the inevitable. As much as you attempted to stall your labor, your efforts had been in vain as you entered the hours of pushing. Your vision blurred from falling tears as you cried out for the one person who vowed to be by your side for moments like these, all the while knowing that he was never going to walk through that door again

“Angel, I’m here.” Yoongi’s voice called out as the doors were thrown open.

“You’re hurt,” you commented as you took his face between your hands. He had a large gash running down his face, the cut at first glance seeming to go through his eye as well. As you started to remove the blood it became clear that it had been a very narrow miss, but was deeper than you had hoped.

“It’s only a scratch.”

“Oh really, If that’s only a scratch then all this is but a stomach ache and I should be up and about in a few minutes at most.”

“That’s hardly a fair-” Unfortunately for Yoongi, whatever argument he had planned was soon cut off by your yelling at yet another contraction. He climbed into the bed behind you, holding your hand as you cursed him for putting you in your current position.

Whomever said that the pain of childbirth disappeared from one’s memory the second they held their child was horribly wrong, and you wanted nothing more than to personally stab that person in the stomach so that they could feel a fragment of everything you went through. And yet, when you looked at your newborn son it felt as though all that pain were worth it. Yoongi had somehow forgotten about all the horrible things you had called him during labor, or at least decided not to bring it up for a very long time. Your child had made an early and all too exciting entrance into the world, and all of you seemed to be recovering from this in one way or another.

Yoongi had been healing very well, but it became apparent that his wound would leave a scar. Not that you minded, he’d teased you about yours since the very first night the two of you had known each other intimately. Even now as you lie in bed he still traces the two lines on each side of your spine, pressing a kiss to each of the spots he claimed must have held the wings of an angel before you had fallen.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves at least a full day of napping.” Yoongi commented, already pulling the covers over the two of you.

“Just one?” You asked, “If you ask me I think we should try and break our old record and try for at least two and a half days of sleep.”

“When did we,” he paused as the memory dawned on him, “Are you talking about the New Year’s when we were snowed in with the Park family. I remember being in bed for most of that weekend, but I don’t recall much sleep going on at the time.”

“I was talking about after all of that, we ended up being so tired that we spent our last couple days asleep. We could have gotten a few more hours of rest if their staff hadn’t woken us up.”

“Well, there’s no one to bother us now. And our son is sound asleep, so I think we should be too.”

The two of you glanced at the tiny figure in the crib across from you, he looked so small and fragile but you had been relieved to know that he would continue to grow into a strong and healthy young boy. He was only a few days old and you were already starting to notice that he had formed his dad’s same habit of oversleeping, “Hey Yoongs, I’m happy he takes after you.”

[gongju-juice]

9. Once Upon a Southern Night

Not So Far-Fetched

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, and a little angst

The wedding was absolutely perfect. Of course, Alice designed the entire affair, everybody else but you and Jasper a slave to her incessant ordering.

You got married on a sunny day back in the country, just a few miles Jasper’s old home town which was nestled far out into secluded woods with a grand, wooden barn and southern mansion nearby a quiet stream

Your dress was sleeveless and made of immaculate white silk that trailed behind you in the rose petal walkway to your groom, standing under a flower arch of candles and flowers. Alice, Rosalie, and Amelia were your bridesmaids—and Ivy, though she whined and cried from home—was not invited.

And when the wedding was over, Jasper flew you out to Havana where a pastel yellow house waited on the shoes of the beach. Little antique cars zoomed past on the streets, people danced in skimpy swimsuits, lovers toured the old buildings, hands entwined.

But you weren’t even interested in all of that. That was second priority. All you wanted was to be underneath the man you’d been lusting for over two years now. And he seemed to sense your urgency, for he immediately rushed the both of you to your villa without any side trips or excursions.

He got busy taking care of the luggage and dealing with the house attendants as they stocked the kitchen with food. Meanwhile, you made a nest of the bathroom. 

Dropping your suitcase on the tiled floor, you laid out all your supplies and filled the tub with bubbles and hot water. Alice and Rosalie had packed an “essential” bag of lingerie, but you thought it would be best to save it for later. Tonight, there would be no lace or fancy ribbons. You would be yourself, and you would reveal yourself to your husband just like you shamefully imagined yourself doing before. 

You opened the french style bathroom doors and stepped into the humid room. The ceiling fan whirred uselessly overhead, creating more noise than comfort, adding only to your anxiety and nervousness. You tightened your arms around your waist and moved forward.

Jasper was on the other side of the room staring out over the balcony. The moon shone down on his wavy hair, creating a silvery effect that slowly faded into the warm candlelight of the bedroom. 

When he turned around, you were already tugging at the ties of your robe. The candles flickered and in a heartbeat, he was standing in front of you, his icy breath on your lips. He lowered your hands and began undoing the fabric himself.

To his delight, there was nothing underneath. It was silent as he took in your bare form, his piercing gaze sweeping over the hills of your breast, the curvature of your hips and thighs. Never before had you felt so exposed, so completely and utterly vulnerable and especially nervous.

What if you did something wrong? What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if you accidentally humiliated yourself?

“Y/N,” he hummed, putting his hands on the top of your shoulders. “I can feel everything you feel. And, you’re worried. I won’t go any further until you tell me you’re ready. We can stop now, and I won’t touch you like that at all, if that’s what you want. I just want you to be okay.”

You bit your lip but vehemently shook your head. Of course you were nervous. It was your wedding night. To not feel anything at all was a sign of trouble. 

But you wanted him. Your feeling of desire overwhelmed any sense of anxiousness, and it made you breathless with how tangible it all seemed. It was often you could lay awake at night and think of being with him. With seven other vampires around, your every move was heard and monitored even if they didn’t intend to invade your privacy. And Jasper sat on the edge of your bed as you slept, too traditional to venture under the covers most of the time. The want had been building and boiling inside of you, waiting to be unleashed.

“I want you,” you whimpered. “Please, I can’t wait any longer.”

Gracefully, he scooped you into his arms and carried you to the canopied bed where he had already rearranged the pillows at least twice. 

Perhaps, you thought, he was nervous too.

But before you could contemplate this theory any longer, his eyes dropped dangerously to the apex of your thighs where your arousal had obscenely gathered. He licked his lips and cradled your hips with his strong arms. 

“Fuck, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since you walked down that aisle,” he declared, admiring your writhing regions in his deepest drawl yet. It was funny, the more excited Jasper became, the thicker his accent became. 

Before he continued, however, he began by kissing every inch of your skin. He started from the vein just behind your left ear before making his way down the crevice of your collarbones, down the valley of your breasts, slowly and teasingly trailing down to the place you really wanted him to be.

But once he made it to your pelvic bone, he placed your legs over his shoulders, a smirk on his face. You’re sure you were wide-eyed, your features twisted into a blissful grimace of unfulfilled need and throbbing ache.

He delved his tongue into your folds, sucking and kissing hungrily like a predator bearing down on its prey. His eyes darkened into a shade of burnt umber. It must’ve been so tempting to be that close to all those vital vessels and not give in to the burning instinct to drink you dry. Instead, he channeled all of that desire and yearning into eating your pussy like a starved man.

“Jasper,” you screamed, “Oh god, I—you’re so—it’s so—”

“You’re feeling everything I’m feeling,” he admitted, ripping through the buttons of his shirt. “And everything I’m feeling is you.”

You understood. It was a continual, never-ending loop of love and pleasure that he had shared with you. This was exaltation, better than any human drug or stimulant. It was just you and your husband making love for the first time, consummating your marriage as countless other lovers had done before but infinitely different and unique.

“I can’t take it anymore! Please, just do it! I want you inside me so badly, Jas,” you hyperventilated as you assisted him as he undid his belt and zipper, the rest of his offensive attire falling to the floor. Now there was nothing standing in between you and your man.

“Patience, darlin’,” he hummed, pushing you up against the headboard in a way that did not seem so patient in itself. By this point, your vision was beginning to go white from the sheer excitement, and in that moment, you hated him for deriving you from the immediate pleasure. He was taking his time, savoring the image of your desperate expressions in his photographic mind.

He pressed his cock unto your clit, rubbing tiny little circles with the tip of his dick—only contributing to your frustration and utter annoyance. 

“Just do it, please! I want you to fucking ruin me.”

His eyes widened. “My baby girl has a dirty mouth, doesn’t she? I’ll have to deal with that later, but since you asked so nicely—”

He thrust into you suddenly, knocking the air sensuously from your lungs. Your fingers crept up to his hair, grabbing a palmful to yank and hold on to. The pain was noticeable, but somehow you suspected he had lessened the intensity by using his ability. He stilled inside you, brushing his lips against yours as he waited.

“Are you ready?” he asked after a while.

“Yes.”

He began moving, his thrusts deep but firm as he pinned you down in the warm candlelight. The lewd sounds of your bodies meeting brought heat to your cheeks. It was so delicious and utterly filthy that tears accumulated in your eyes. He uttered a string of curses in your ear, quiet and intended only for you. 

“This sopping pussy, so wet. So sweet. You want me to fix for ya, darlin’? Does it feel good when I’m stroking you like this?”

It was so startling and unlike what you imagined. Jasper had always been the quiet Cullen, the one who never spoke unless spoken to. Even in your relationship, he opted to listen to your voice rather than lead the conversation. It was something you thought would carry over into his bedroom tendencies. But here he was, spitting naughty, dangerous words to you, unabashedly and so god damn sexy. 

His pace changed. Now it was fast and shallow. You looked down to where your bodies connected, your arousal dripping down onto the cotton sheets and shining against his lower half. You cried into his throat, trying to hide your face.

“No, Y/N,” he commanded, “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing to you. I want to watch you cum for me. Look into my eyes.”

You did as he said, and it was utterly too much. He growled as you came undone underneath the sheets. His seed, slightly warm, gushed inside you, filling your womb with his love. Your tongues clashed together as he bared his hands on the mattress and hunched over you.

You laid together in the romantic darkness, your head relaxed against his chest. You could hear cars honking in the streets, music floating up from the partying crowds below. It was so tranquil and perfect that if a hurricane blew over the island in that instant, you truly believed you wouldn’t care. All the while, his breathing slowed in your ear—not out of necessity—but from pure leisure.

“I can’t believe,” you started before taking a deep breath and starting over, “I can’t believe you waited over a century and a half to be with me. With someone you never met. I feel like I’ve robbed you years of laughter and joy when you should have been out living your life. If I had been there, then Maria wouldn’t have. . .she wouldn’t have—”

He sat up suddenly, bringing you with him against the headboard. 

“All of it, all of the years of waiting and suffering—every painful moment of it was worth it. It groomed me to become the man I am now. I used to be cold, unsympathetic, and callous. I had a backward ideology and knew not how to love another person for I could not even love myself.” he placed his large hand over yours, brushing the iridescent diamond band glimmering colorfully in the candlelight.

“But Carlisle and Esme, all of my adopted siblings—they taught me to cherish myself, even in spite of all my flaws. They never gave up on me when I struggled with my thirst, and they never judged me for the life I used to have. Little did I know, you had made your second arrival in the world not long after. I was learning to love, and well, you were learning to live.”

“The way your mother looks at you, Y/N, it’s a look of pure love and adoration. I decided then when I first sat at your dinner table that I would never let anything happen to that bond. I would protect you with my life. You were the final piece to my heart, darlin’. I had learned to love myself, but I didn’t trust myself. It wasn’t until you realized I was capable of loving others, that I could control myself enough around people.”

You didn’t realize you were crying but you were. Tears streamed down your face, some rolling down your cheeks and others falling unto his skin. 

“I don’t care what Edward believes.You are capable of loving in any way you choose; as a friend, as a brother, as a son—”

“As a husband?”

You smiled. “Yes. And, maybe, if you wanted—as a father.”

He froze, his golden eyes widened in surprise. “You mean. . .you want to adopt?”

“We could if we wanted,” you whispered quietly. “But Ava told me something about witches, something I thought you should know.”

He nodded, beckoning you to continue.

“Witches can have children with humans, vampires, werewolves, and shapeshifters. Because of our magic, it is immediately passed on to the offspring so that the children automatically retain human characteristics until they are old enough to learn what they are. And as for me, as long as I choose, I will never age. Of course, if we do have children, then I might need to create an illusion to change my appearance a little so people won’t be sus—”

He pulled you to his lips, and once again the two of you were reunited. It felt warm in his arms. Safe. 

“I would be honored,” he answered breathlessly. “Perhaps that dream of our farm life isn’t too far-fetched at all.”

“Oh no, it’s totally far-fetched,” you cried, laughing. “Yes, I grew up in Alabama. Yes, we’re southerners at heart. But I do not want to smell like cattle and chase chickens around for all of eternity. Maybe let’s just get a summer farm and we can have people to maintain while we’re gone.”

He shook his head, laughing, as you cradled his chin in your hand. 

“We’ll need a big house for the farm I plan to create with you, Mrs. Whitlock,” he drawled seductively, grabbing your hand by the wrist and bringing it slowly to his chest. 

You moved him so that you were on top, straddling him, the sheets pooling at your waist. 

“Well then, cowboy, we’d better get started.”

And this completes this series! Hope you enjoyed! I’m planning on doing some blurbs and drabble with our happy couple in the future. . .send me some ideas, will ya?

Twilight, despite all of its many problems and kinks, is one of my favorite nostalgic stories to this day. Jasper has always been my favorite character, (Seth Clearwater next) and since we’re all either quarantined or protesting, I thought I could bring light to our lives in such a dark time.

Part Six   Part Seven   Part Eight

[sweeethinny]

Reputation - Delicate (Chapter 4)

I know it took me a while to make this one, and just yesterday I deleted three times and started from scratch. But I finally liked what I wrote. Clearly, not canonical, since, there were no death eaters at that wedding or the kiss Ginny gives Harry in her room. The death eaters, I took it off because, Harry deserved one last day of peace, and the kiss, I just delayed it

Thanks to the people who enjoy this story, I still find it very strange to think that people who read what I write (not being my best friend, who reads absolutely everything). :) 

Thank for @allthatwooloowho who helped me, honey, thank you <3

AO3

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so 

You must like me for me

Her dress made her so beautiful, so ... radiant, like a masterpiece in the Louvre. The dress rolled with Ginny's movements as she walked around the tent, the fabric rolling back and forth. 

In the golden light, the fabric glowed like flaming gold, rare and wondrous to behold. Her hair was braided at the top of her head, but the rest of the locks fell majestically on her back and shoulders, and Harry could almost feel their softness on his fingers. 

He wanted to be able to get up, go to her and make a complicated bow to make her laugh, before taking her out to dance, putting his hands around her waist, feeling the fabric on his fingers and rolling it around the tent as if she was the most important person at the party, not Fleur or Bill.

He wanted to be able to tell everyone that they were together, too. 

He wanted to know how to dance. 

 ''Barny?'' The melodious voice called out to him, sitting across from him at the table and tossing her hair behind the shoulders, before raising an eyebrow and biting a smile. So beautiful it hurt. 

 "Ginny, how are you?" Harry smiled, happy to see her up close, and to smell that characteristic scent of flowers. There were rings on her thin fingers, and her nails were painted white with gold and violet sparkles. Everything made her so…gorgeous. It was unfair that Ginny was beautiful like that. 

 ''I haven't seen you in a few years ... so, have you been to the lake? Dad did a great job of gardening in those parts’’. Of course he had gone there. In fact, he had seen it closely for the past two summers, and really, it was quite serene with all the flowers, cut grass and nearby stone path. 

 ''I didn't see,'' he joked, ignoring when George or Bill looked twice at their interaction. 

"Oh! I'll have to show you then.'' She stood up, smoothing her dress before looking at it again, those eyes that looked like they had been dipped in chocolate, looking radiant and excited by the escape. ''Come with me?'' Ginny offered an arm, and Harry couldn't help but laugh; it was hard not to say no to her, even when there were all those other thoughts lurking around him. War, his mission, Voldemort, Dumbledore's true story ... Ginny always gave him peace. 

We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

 ''Do you want a drink before we go?'' He offered as they passed a plate that levitated with glasses full of glimmering liquid. 

 ''Sure, why not?'' Ginny approached, and in her high heels, she could easily reach his ear to whisper. ''Don't tell my mum. She won't be pleased.'' Harry nodded, taking two before heading out of the tent, knowing that only the Weasley brothers were looking at him. 

 He would deal with them later. 

 The night was lovely, with bearable weather and stars dotting the sky. A wind swayed the trees and Ginny's dress slightly, but nothing that required a cape or warm clothing. Which Harry liked, because the redhead's legs beside him were too beautiful to be hidden by pants. 

'’You look beautiful,'' he commented, sipping the drink. He didn't know exactly what it was, only that it was bubbly, with a hint of sweetness and a refreshing aftertaste. 

 ''Thank you. Fleur has good taste.'' The two continued walking in companionable silence, without many intrusive thoughts, just enjoying what seemed to be the last night of peace. ''I didn't give you a birthday present.'' They finally arrived at the lake. The moon shone in the reflection of the clear water, the night glittering on the surface, making Ginny's skin glow even more gloriously, her eyes shining just like her dress. It was breathtaking. 

 "No need. I'm happy just being a part of things.'' The music was just an unknown, almost imperceptible noise, and Harry liked that silence. 

 ''You look good, too, by the way.'' 

 Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you Oh damn, never seen that color blue

''Even though it's kind of weird to be talking to you in that way'' He laughed, nodding awkwardly and blushing, hating that his skin was so clear that body and showed too much of his blush

''It'll be over soon ... we have more ... fifteen minutes before I go back to being Harry Potter'' His voice sounded like he said it wasn't that important, but Ginny didn't favor it, as her chin and eyebrows advanced smiling corner

''I will wait fifteen minutes before I can kiss you then'' And as if it doesn't include anything here, she bent down to take off her heels and sit on the grass, sinking her feet into the water ''Come on, I don't want to be alone'' He followed, rising like pants to the knee and taking off shoes and like stockings, sitting next to you and feeling the skin cool when you sank it, sighing with regretful temperature change

"Hm .. about the kiss .. I .."

''..I'm not going to kiss someone who looks like my brothers'' Harry laughed, biting his lip and looking back at his feet, feeling some moss on his shin

''I don't think I would like to kiss you while I'm like this'' Was it sincere, looking at her ''Do you want to swim?'' Where had this idea come from?

He blamed her, as well as that strange drink and all this feeling that it was the last time.

''Yes​​'' Ginny seemed to hesitate a little before speaking ''But you'll have to take care of me later, you know, making my hair dry and everything back in place, because Fleur and my mom will die if they see me dripping water and all blurry''

''At your service''

Then they started to undress, and Harry had already swam a few times with Ginny, but seeing her in a swimsuit was quite different from seeing her in her underwear, and his mind seemed to find the pieces highly entertaining, creating very specific scenarios that made him thank that he would soon dive into icy water

Just think of the fun things we could do 'Cause I like you

The minutes passed quickly, between laughter and meaningless conversation, plunges into the placid, icy water, and lovely silences. Until they were floating, Ginny's body unlike Harry's and their heads meeting, foreheads on each other's jaws and uneven breaths

''You're back to normal'' she pointed out, and Harry had barely noticed that he was showing his own body again, blaming Ginny's body for it. As if reading her thoughts, the redhead licked her lips, sinking her body into the water again and pulling his face to hers, kissing him so hard that Harry almost drowned, half lost when his feet scraped at the bottom of the lake, before repaying with all your fervor as well.

She held his face with a certain territoriality, sucking on his tongue and approaching their bodies, smiling when Harry grunted at the contact, not even the icy water being able to stop him.

His heart was pounding in his ears when he pressed the redhead to a rock, holding her a little higher, lining up their heads and managing to sink the touch as he wanted.

They had some kisses like that at Hogwarts, but that one looked different, as if ... as if it was loaded with lack, fear and worry, as if the world was going to end tomorrow and they just had one more chance to kiss.

Harry thought that could be true.

''Ginny'' He sighed, anxiety eating him alive, as he managed to use all his strength to get away from the redhead, looking her in the eye, and almost moaning when he saw her red lipstick smeared all over her face, wondering how he was ''I like you. Really'' Harry wanted to say that, wanted to affirm just in case ... just in case he died and she never knew.

He very much doubted that he would make it out alive

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

Instead of answering, or blushing, as he imagined she would, Ginny pulled him in for a kiss again, even more in need, looking much more sentimental and sensitive than all the years Harry had been around.

''This is my gift'' She murmured against his lips ''For you to remember me'' They finally opened their eyes, winking at each other in a daze ‘'You know If you have some Veela wherever you are, doing whatever’' Ginny swallowed, and when he was older and remembered that day, Harry would remember seeing a touch of fear and jealousy running through her eyes, as if that girl, who turned his head and beginning to almost fall ill with all that whirlwind of feelings, it could be left aside by anyone else in the world.

''I will be busy enough to think about veelas,'' he assured her, hoping she understood behind his words. 'I will never be able to see anyone other than you'

''Good, that was the good side I was looking for''

The two swallowed again, and the sensation of her bare skin (in parts) on his fingers almost made him pass out, thinking how that was his life, how he could be so lucky to touch her intimately and devastatingly.

Harry could never be the same again.

And he didn't even want to.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

They kissed for much longer than Harry could remember, hands wandering and stumbling until he was the one who was pressed against the rocks, groaning when she sucked on his neck and bit his skin, looking territorial as at Hogwarts. He would never complain about that.

His hand went down her spine, feeling the delicious sensation of his fingers discovering her soft skin that is usually hidden by the shirts, before finally squeezing her ass, shielding the moan in her mouth, while dropping her head slightly back, leaving let him delight in all his flesh.

''Harry'' Ginny sighed as his fingers dug curiously to that spot hidden in the middle, which even under water was hot as hell. ''Do you have your cloak?’’ As if he had woken up, he looked at her, stopping his fingers on the fabric of her panties.

''Yes​​'' And as if by magic, they were dry, and hidden, walking hurriedly to The Burrow again, laughing softly every time their feet tripped or that they saw some guests seeming to enjoy the party too much.

But the laughter ceased when they went up to her room, especially when she took off the cloak and looked at him a little hungry, vaguely pointing at the door with one hand, hoping he would protect them from the world.

For just a few hours, he needed to forget everything that awaited him.

Harry finally locked the door and put on the protection and muffling spells, before having his neck wrapped around Ginny's arms and his mouth occupied with hers, calmer than at the lake, but still hungry as a hungry man

They fell on her childhood bed, moaning softly when the horizontal position made them comfortable and very close.

''I was tired of standing up'' He declared

''Me too'' Ginny laughed, on top of Harry and looking like the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, with her makeup a bit smeared and her hair not too dry, as well as messy. Messed up by him.

His ego inflated when he thought he was the first boy to leave her that way, and yet, the first to be lying in her bed.

She was also the first to leave him like this.

And Harry knew it would be the last.

Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, you're a mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do?

Soon the clothes came off again, not to the point of being totally naked, but Gin's underwear looked much thinner now that they weren't submerged, and Harry could feel it hot on top of his erection when her hips turned, which caused a loud groan from both.

''Merlin, this is good'' She did it again, and this time, he can't control the thrust of his hips upwards, which caused much more than Ginny's subtle movements. The two looked soft after the shock on their bodies

Harry kissed her again, running his hand down her entire body, enjoying the sensation of her breasts supported by the simple light pink bra, groaning when he pressed his pelvis even closer to her. Her hands went to her back, unbuttoning the piece and freeing soon after, blushing when Harry's green eyes reached the flesh, seeming to live a dream.

''You are beautiful'' was all he managed to say, running his fingers over the hard nipples of her creamy breasts, mesmerized by the freckles that covered part of her skin, feeling their weight and how perfect they were. Harry made her move closer to finally catch one of them with his mouth, sucking as if he had been doing it for years, and almost enjoying hearing his name coming out as a cry from her lips.

Suddenly, his underwear started to get slightly damp, and for a moment, he thought he had really come without even realizing it, until he noticed that it came from Gin, the proof that he was doing everything right. And more eagerly now that he was being encouraged, he massaged the other breast, while still using his mouth there. The vague hand went down her side, half shaking with all the growing lust, until found the fabric wrapped around her hip, playing for a moment there, not quite sure what to do.

''Do it'' Ginny forced him, taking her hand and leading him to her middle, finally touching her, and heavens, she was soaked ''Please'' The request came out so needy that Harry almost moaned along with her when he removed that piece and slid his hand to cover the bare area, losing the senses when it feels so hot and slippery, using the fingers as a guide, exploring the entire area

"I'm going to need you to help me," he admitted, a little embarrassed. They never made it that far, just once he put his knee in the middle of it and Ginny rubbed it like it was the best thing in the world. But that, it was absurdly better.

Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share

Ginny guided him, and to her delight, Harry learned quickly, which was a blessing, because her moans and hips rotated over his erection were so wonderful it was like being in paradise.

Confident, he slid a finger inside her, moaning and tensing when he felt her crush him inside, much softer and hotter, while his palm got incredibly wet and the moans grew louder and louder. Harry turned them over, getting on top to get more control, using his thumb to touch that knot that seemed to take the redhead in another dimension, while carefully placing another finger and watching him disappear into her

He had dreamed of it a few times, imagined how it could all be, but his mind was nowhere near as detailed with that, just believing it would be too good, ignoring the rest. But it was exciting to see her, getting more and more red and noisy, riding his fingers like the was the best broom in the world, whimpering his name and scratching his skin.

It was wild.

His cock inside his underwear throbbed in pain, his balls seeming to compress each time Ginny swallowed him more, and when he increased his pace and saw her lift her back while squeezing it until it was almost impossible to take his fingers off, Harry knew they were progressing to something more

''AAAHHH'' She dug her nails into his shoulder, pulling him in for a hungry kiss, biting his bottom lip and furiously moving her hips ''H-arryyyy'' Ginny moaned as her brown eyes dilated and looked like two black holes in her face, her vagina milking him and then wetting him completely with orgasm, her clitoris swollen and looking highly sensitive at that moment.

His ego inflated to the heights.

Seamus talked a lot at times in the dorm, and commented at times about making witches come, and as he heard from a girl that they usually didn't do it easily because the guys were horrible. But Ginny didn't seem to think it was bad, and Harry almost screamed and jumped in celebration..

Daring, as fuck, he bent down until he reached the middle of it, seeing everything up close and feeling salivated at the idea of ​​sucking it, but his confidence had a limit and he didn't think he could succeed in that too, so he contented himself with just licking it to suck all her excitement, feeling his hair tug and the screams starting again.

Harry sucked on his fingers as soon as they left her, and pulled back a little more to suck in her entrance, trying not to touch the clitoris that seemed to be too sensitive.

When he came back up, Ginny was a red mess and out of breath, very much like a hungry animal.

It was sexy

''You were supposed to win the gift'' She said after a few minutes staring at him, running a shaking hand over his cheek and smiling

''Ah, I loved this gift, make no mistake'' His cock throbbed, but Harry really didn't care much, thinking it was much sexier to see her that way because of him, than wanting to deal with his erection now. ''How did I do?'' Seamus had said that some witches lied, but that didn't seem false, even so he questioned

''Do I have to say?'' Gin laughed, flushed and looking like the most beautiful work of art in the world, and he cursed Voldemort once again for stealing it from him. Not even enjoying your girlfriend was allowed. The world has never been so unfair.

Harry didn't want to leave her, and he wasn't thinking about just having to leave her room and go back to the tent.

She seemed to realize this

''You'll be back, and then everything will be fine'' She said, looking much less radiant than before, even so smiling and caressing his skin.

Harry wanted so badly to be hers forever, because no doubt there would never be another one for him, but Ginny would still live, marry, still enjoy the many years that he had left. It was almost unfair to want to declare his love for her again, now that he was about to run away to know Merlin where, and possibly die at the hand of a psychopath

"Are you tired?" He wanted to change the subject, feeling bad for being aware of it.

Harry wanted so much to have more time with her. Maybe a lifetime.

But his life wouldn't be that long, so he would have to be content with that.

Better little than nothing, he thought irritably.

''More or less'' The two made themselves on the bed, she lying beside him, facing his direction as she ran her fingers over his chest, boldly down to his stomach, then down to his navel ...

''No'' Harry stopped her ''No'' He said again, a little breathlessly when her fingers touched him. He wouldn't be able to leave her if he knew what it felt like. ''Sleep, it was a busy day'' The music was being drowned out the windows, as well as the conversations, and inside the world seemed just theirs, with nothing to interrupt them. The boy smoothed her face, also on his side, while also playing with her hair, memorizing every bit of it.

It would never be enough.

''I didn't want you to go'' Her voice was a little shaky, but nothing that passed over her face. Her brown eyes seemed to weigh and the darkness of the chosen room made her look like a goddess, taking Harry closer and closer to paradise before throwing him up there. Not that he complained.

''Neither do I Gin, now go to sleep'' His girlfriend's (?) soft hand  stood over his heart, while finally giving in to sleep, closing her eyes and breathing lightly, looking at peace, and much more fragile than he never thought it was possible.

He couldn't have her in danger, let Voldemort use her like he did Sirius, he ... he wouldn't be able to live if Ginny was killed, not even a minute. And that was why he had to go, that he would have to leave her. That perfect and happy life, the sunny days by your side, never belonged to him.

''I love you'' His dick didn't hurt anymore, sad as he got up from the bed and kissed her forehead, covering her with a plaid blanket and memorizing her face before putting on his clothes, ready to leave her forever.

It was for her sake, he think, so that she had the opportunity to live a life, to have a marriage as beautiful as Fleur's, so that she could be totally happy alongside any other man who didn't put her in constant danger.

Even though, Harry completed it alone, closing the door to her room and sliding down the stairs, he never had a chance to be that man.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine all the damn time ('Cause I like you)

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 7

Warnings: None   Rating: PG-13   Pairings: Zuko/OC   Summary:  “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…”  His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Feeling smug about the events at the abbey and riding that beast around the land Tsai decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

Should she have done more to capture the Avatar?

It would've been wrong to steal Zuko's glory. After all he had made capturing the Avatar his life's mission and who was she to try and take that away from him? And then he always said that she only got in the way. This thought irked her to no end. 'If only he knew,' a cocky smirk made way to her face.

xxx

'Again!' Her grandfather had once said to her.

'But grandpa! I'm so tired. We've been practicing all day the nine year old dropped to her knees exhausted. 'Mecha doesn't even have train half as much as I do with his fire bending.'

He looked at her with hard brown eyes.

'Mecha can afford to be weak. He has the gift of fire bending and I'm afraid you don't.' She lowered her light brown eyes sadly. 'You're always going to work twice as hard for everything that you want Tsai. Both as a woman and as a non-bender.' He explained.

He took in a deep breath before the older man took a fighting stance. The man was about to bark again but instead changed his mind. 'Come with me,' he had said turning away calmly instructing his grand daughter to follow. 'I want to give you something.'

xxx

The girl toyed with the choker sunstone necklace around her neck. He had given it to her that day and she had seldom taken it off. Her grandfather had said it had once belonged to her grandmother. An elegant lady from the Fire Nation whom Tsai had never met since she passed the day in which she was born. Her grandfather rarely spoke about her, she always assumed the memory was too painful for the man. However, in family portraits and paintings she had seen that they both shared the indistinguishably blazing red hair.

Zuko had been terribly rude to her the day before so he deserved to suffer out his paralysis for a little while longer. She did not want to be around by the time that June awoke and face her wrath and she had the feeling that Iroh was in a heavenly bliss with the beautiful woman laying on him. And so she traveled the local market and took her sweet time buying rare herbs, tea and even some local perfumes and lotions as souvenirs for her family.

She took her sweet time, even pulling her wrist to her nose every once in a while to enjoy the scent of her new perfume. However, as she attempted to steer her thoughts clear she kept on flashbacking to the Avatar's expression as their eyes met across the abbey. She still hadn't figured how to interpret that. The Avatar, he was a symbol for equality. Maybe just maybe he would be able to help her bring some peace to her nation... Would she be considered an aid to him? Letting him go like that? She would've become a blood traitor to not only her family but to her nation. The daughter of the Vice-Royal Governor a traitor to her own people- she shook her head not even wanting to think of the royal chaos that would be.

She still debated if she had done the right or wrong decision in not fighting the Airbender. There was something about it that bothered her to no end.

The sun was setting by the time that Tsai arrived on the ship. She arrived just in time to see the soldiers stepping out.

"We're going to the local market for some supplies," explained the cook. "While the mechanics check the ship engine and make sure everything is well functioning." Not giving it much mind the girl nodded and walked in. "Also-" Added the lieutenant. "This arrived for you," he said handing her a scroll that arrived with one of the ship's fire hawks.

It had to be from Mecha! She grinned broadly and leaned against the one of the ship's walls cooly as she unwrapped the scroll snacking on some mixed nuts she had gotten at the market.

Her heart stopped and a nut went the wrong way when she read the words that her brother had writte. She beat her chest in an effort to lodge it out of place and gasped at the attached paper he sent.

It was a WANTED - REWARD poster with her face plastered on it. The charges were the following: obstruction of justice, breaking in entering restricted military premises and being an accomplice and aiding of enemies of the Fire Nation. Under the information was a very well descript drawing of her. Names: Unknown, alias "Haru".

'Tsai,

Tell me why my sister 's face is on a wanted poster and goes by the alias of "Haru?"

This is either the coolest of the dumbest thing you have ever done. (Know that I am having it framed and hanged in my room). I have been hiding the posters from mom and dad and the rest of You Dao but it won't be long before somebody realizes that it is you and identifies you. I'm afraid you can't get very far with that bloody hair color of yours my dearest sister.

A traitor to the nation huh? Just what are you doing in that boat with the banished prince and his uncle? I have been taking care of all of your governing duties, so do not worry about that. Baku, Moss and Ana send their helloes. It's been nice getting to know some of your friends.

(Mother keeps asking if we should plan a Royal wedding- ignore that. (She insisted that I wrote that.) I had to remind her that you are ONLY just sixteen.)'

She rapidly flipped the page of the scroll and read his inked words in the back.

'And in regards of the Avatar.' He began. 'I wish I could just ship the library to you. But after extensive research I'm afraid I didn't find much. I mean why would there be any texts about the Avatar in the Fire Nation colonies to begin with?

However, here is what I can tell you. Air benders are particularly skilled in defensive techniques. They were known to be peaceful people, have mainly vegetarian diets, their leadership was guided by monks- they are known to be fast and easy on their feet. One hasn't been seen in more than a hundred years. Also apparently they were famous for their custard pies.

In regards of the Avatar- His last life was Avatar Roku born in the Fire Nation, the next will be born a water bender. You see the Avatar follows a cycle. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. It follows this cycle over and over again and must master the elements in that order. In this case it's going to be Air, Water, Earth and Fire. Get what I mean?

I hope I was of help. I miss you Tsai. Please be safe. Do not make me worry. I don't know how much dad can do to pardon you if you get into too much trouble.

Be safe, please.

If you're getting in trouble... I hope it's worth it.

- Mecha'

The nuts slipped off her hand and spilled all over the floor. She ran inside of the Captain cabin on the deck's floor where she knew that all of the maps and Avatar information was being kept. She pointed a finger at it and lightly traced the map with her finger. It seemed as if Zuko had been following the Avatar's trail all the way from the Southern Water Tribe up north. He had been traveling north for some months now and simply seemed to be climbing higher and higher in the map. It was then that the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"He's going to the Northern Water Tribe," she breathed her finger landed on the icy north pole. It made sense. The Avatar had already mastered air, he had to master water now if he wanted to advance to the next element.

"He's going to the water tribe," she repeated again almost in disbelief. She had figured it out. Her grip tightened around the letter her brother had sent. Dropping the goods she had bought she sprinted outside and tore the letter into the ocean. She leaned over the rail her eyes following the bits and pieces of paper that drifted down to the black waters and vanished into the darkness of the sea.

She had to get out of here. And fast. Before Admiral Zhao's men came to lock her up and collect their reward. She felt that Zuko wouldn't hesitate in fingering her over to the Fire Nation authorities. He'd be more than glad to have her of his ship! What if they got in trouble? What if her family got in trouble?

She had done a grave mistake. Feeling her anxiety churning in her stomach she quickly turned around ready to gather her belongings and leave but suddenly stopped in her way. Prince Zuko was standing a few feet away on the ship's deck and he did not look happy. He wore his hair up, his eyes appeared to glow with the sun which was setting behind them. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't only unhappy, he was fuming, absolutely and completely livid.

"You!" He snarled out. He stomped towards her. "You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He put his hands on her and shoved her in a provocative matter. "What are you talking about?" She scoffed back pushing his hands of her person. "The Avatar!" The other roared. "He spoke to you! You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He raged.

In Zuko's eyes this was the greatest betrayal. She had had the opportunity to capture his honor. To help him. To for once to help him reach his ultimate goal and she didn't. Instead she stood there and conversed with the enemy. She was a snake. A beautiful venomous red snake that would slowly consume him.

"How could you do this to me?!" His voice cracked and he shuffled uncomfortably at the crack of his emotions.

"How could I do this?" She raised an eyebrow confused. "What did you want me to do? Knock him out with my bare hands?," She once again scoffed at his ridiculous suggestion with heavy sarcasm. "I guess I just didn't want to "Get in your way,"" She said nastily before brushing past him brushing past his shoulder as she passed him.

She didn't see it. The rage and anger that was boiling inside of him like a volcano ready to explore.

"Agni Kai! You and Me. Now!" He demanded, his voice hard and void of emotion. She looked over her shoulder and huffed before shaking her head.

"You can't do that," she turned once again granting him her full attention. Her eyes momentarily drifted to the dock. Just where was Iroh? Or anybody else? SOMEBODY that could intervene.

"Now!" He roared once again.

"You're insane," she said eyes blowing wide with a blend of shock and fear. "You've gone mad. I'm not like my brother. I can't bend fire."

It was then that he walked towards the nearby wall and grabbed a broom that was leaning against the wall. With one swift movement he split it into two breaking it over his knee.

"Who said anything about fire?" He said raising up he a half of the broom in one hand and aggressively thrusting it in her direction. She shifted her body dodging it and looked at him perplexed before he threw the other half at her, the half with the hay sticks at the end that was functional for sweeping. She barely caught it and held it awkwardly between her hands.

She was beginning to regret ever coming abroad this ship. This was a huge mistake. Coming on this trip. It was then that he charged towards her, and now Zuko was going to make a roasted kabob out of her.

"I am not going to fight you!" She protested as she dodged his swift attacks. She blocked another with her makeshift broom sword. "Zuko stop!" She pleaded.

He attacked again. "Good reflexes, "he complimented the slightest grin on his face.

"I'm trying my best," she struggled but failed to hide the odd smirk that was also growing on her features.

It was finally that with a handful of clever hits and swats he whipped the wooden sword out of her hands. Her back was pressed against the deck's railing she was cornered and heaving. Sweat slid down her temple from the strain of fighting him. He presently had the wooden stick directly pointed at her throat.

It was almost night now. With the sun glowing an orange light and the clouds turning shades of pink, lavender and dark purple.

"I said, I wasn't going to fight, and there's no honor in winning a one sided battle." She appeared distraught as she looked down at the pointy end of his 'weapon'. He wanted to push her to the edge. He wanted to see that darkness he knew she was hiding beneath the layers of poise and properness that she carried herself with. He wanted to know who was that vicious person he found skulking around the Pohuai Stronghold. He had to know what she was hiding - all of her vile secrets.

"Ever since you arrived on my ship you have been nothing but a pest! You are irritating! You distract my Uncle and I can't stand you." He took a deep breath. "What do you want?" He demanded inching the stick dramatically. She remained silent, only looking at him with horrified eyes. "What do you want? Why are you really here?" He shouted his voice getting rougher and louder with each sentence He tossed the broom stick to the side and his hands pried themselves to her upper arms as he held her in place. "Why are you-"

This. It was just like that other night. She knew that Zuko had many inner and outer demons to fight, but would he actually hurt her? She wanted to slap herself for letting out a vulnerable whimper as his voice became more stern. He saw her eyes become large as they welled with tears. "Why are you-" His voice was softer now, almost a whisper. The strong grip on her arms became more gentle.

Zuko hated this part of himself. The instinctual one that reminded him of his father. The one that made his blood go and his temper fly in an uncontrollable rage which had been feed by years of mental and physical abuse. For a split second he saw himself in her eyes. And then it happened- He saw the shift in her poise as her eyes darkened with ill intent. Her hand jolted forward fisting the neckline of his armor just like she had done that fateful night of the Blue Spirit. She pulled him close, so close to her that she could see drops of honey being reflected in her eyes.

"Listen," she managed to utter in a menacing tone. He silenced her threat by kissing her.

Tsai felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on her. Her grip on his armor weakened, she attempted to inch back but was caught between the railing and his body. His kiss was soft, gentle, almost shy. She had not expected it to be like this. She wasn't expecting to feel a full body chill and a fire stir in the core of her stomach. It took her a full moment to react and with a hand flat against his chest she pushed him back, keeping him at arms length. Her eyes wide, her expression unreadable.

He turned away before she could speak. What had he done? What had she done?

"Zuko!" She reached for his arm and held it. "Wait!" She held him back. He pulled his arm back and glared at her. His eyes filled with hurt and rejection. For a moment she had forgotten all about the anger, about the fight, about their agni kai and honor. The wanted poster and her plan to run away.

"I'm....confused," she admitted.

His expression remained stoic, lips drawn into a thin line as he remained silent. "You always remind me how you want me off your ship. You repeatedly address me as a pest. I thought you hated me- and now you- you kiss me?"

"Why don't you make your rejection less painful and just tell me it's never going to happen?" He snapped.

He was presently beating himself up for what he had just done. Unsure of his uncontrollable emotions. He regretted it so much. There was no way that a girl like Tsai would ever be interested in somebody like him. Specially somebody as hideous and temperamental. A banished prince with an obvious facial deformity. A beast. It was impossible.

"It.. It's not that," she admitted shyly. Her face glowing with a tint of a red blush.

He could not believe it. He felt her hand reach for his and hold it. He marveled at how perfectly it fit against it. Her fingers tucked in between his. He held it tightly, proudly. Not knowing when he would miss the absence of her heat.

"I've seen good in you Zuko. I've seen compassion, I've seen empathy," she stepped closer. "I know there's goodness in you and it's not only because of your many redeemable qualities," she spoke tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a step closer to him.

"But you are also troubled, you're obsessive, and very rude towards your loving uncle, towards me, and let's not forget my family, which is something I cannot forgive." She leaned in close and he flinched slightly when she gently placed her hand on his cheek, leaned in and kissed his scarred face lightly. He felt as if he had been brushed with a rose's petal.

"What you're saying is, you can't be with me until I've regained my honor." he gave a step back.

"No," she sighed feeling a growing frustration. This is exactly what she was talking about. It was always about honor and the Avatar and redemption with him.

"I can't be with you until you are a changed man," a light breeze blew by and she let go of his hand. He clenched it empty, being more than aware of the coldness of it. "You need to fight your inner demons and- that's only something you can do. I will only get in the way."

"Goodnight Prince Zuko," she whispered before leaving.

xxx

AN: D-D-Damnnnnnn Finally we are getting some fiyahhhhhh burning up in here! I just wanted to say that I do not support abusive relationships and let's be real Zuko is a total prick in Book 1. Also I wouldn't let Tsai be with him with (not with that attitude at least (and don't even get me started on that haircut (the ponytail? Really?))) all the growth and development he still has to go. This idea seemed a little unrealistic to me. Both still have a long way to go!

Thoughts? I'd love to hear what you think!

xxxx

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CHAPTER MASTERLIST

[olivyh]

Into Wonderland Chapter Three: Octavinelle Part Two

"Floyd." Jade instructs. Floyd finally lets go of Mc, letting them breathe for the first time since they'd woken up. He stifles his laughs and lightly pushes the bottom of the boat with his back, causing it to topple over. Two figures splash into the water and Mc can recognize them as Deuce and Rielle.

"He-" A cold hand is clasped over their mouth before they can say much else, and they look over to see Jade holding a finger up to his lips, pursed into a tense smile. The figures struggle to get back onto the boat, with not much help from Floyd swimming in circles around them and scratching at their ankles and yanking at their clothes. They finally get going back to shore, the twins smiling at one another knowingly.

"What did you do that for?" Mc asks as they start to swim back to the cave they were in before.

"Because if the little guppy wants to be human forever and get his voice back he has to kiss the princey~!"

"And we can't let that happen," Jade further explains.

"Why? If it makes him happy-"

"It's not that." Another voice calls from the cave. Mc freezes, searching around for the source of the unknown voice. They see something creep around the corner of the rock, pulling an unknown figure out of the shadows. The man has silvery hair that floats around him and sharp icy blue eyes that contrasted his grey skin that was speckled with black and dark grey freckles. Mc stares as he goes further into the light of the cave, revealing eight long tentacles that let the man creep over the rocks.

"Cecaelia-" They remember Rielle mentioning. The man holds himself high, but seems to shrink under the humans gaze.

"My apologies, I should introduce myself," The man creeps towards Mc, bowing lightly before extending his hand. "I'm Azul Ashengrotto."

"M-Mc-" They stammer, taken back by the difference between him and the twins. The twins made no effort to try to hide their mischievous natures, but Azul seemed to maintain a calm, welcoming aura.

It sent a chill down their spine thinking that he was the one who had taken their legs while they were half dead, and the man who gave Rielle legs, at the cost of his voice, then proceeded to sabotage his chances at living on the surface.

The man purses his lips and lets his hand fall to his side, offering another smile towards the human. "I see you're used to your new tail."

They nod. "I've been trying."

"They smacked me n' Jade with it n' ran into the ceiling-" Floyd interrupts, breaking into laughter.

"I should have known you two would have done something like that," Azul sighs. "I'm terribly sorry for any trouble they've caused due to their..." He pauses. "Sadistic streak."

"It's fine..." Mc mumbles. "So uhh... what did you mean before?"

"Hm?" The silver haired man hums.

"When you said that... 'it's not that'. What do you mean by that?"

"You..." The man seems taken back. "You were a human, right?" He mutters under his breath.

"Y-yes... I came from..." They pause. Where did they come from? What was their home before Wonderland? And the Afterglow Savanah? Did they even have a home? A family?

"Poor thing..." Jade says, not displaying the pity he's trying to get across at all.

"Are ya dumb?" Floy, blunt as always, asks.

"N-no it's just-"

"Amnesia perhaps?" Jade suggests, circling to their side. They hesitate and nod.

"M-maybe-"

"That's quite upsetting..." The calm eel nods.

"Back to my main point-" Mc tries to shake their head clear of their sadness and go back to confronting the octopus. "What did you mean then?"

"Humans here actively hunt mers. Thats why we need to stop Prince Rielle from getting anywhere near them." Azul knits his eyebrows and shakes his head, slinking across the floor with the other three close behind.

"What do you mean...?" Mc whispers.

"They sell our fins as jewelry, keep some mer as pets to entertain them-"

"And eat us." Floyd interrupts, a scowl written across his face. "Almost happened to me n' Jade when we were kids."

"Why?!" Mc exclaims.

"They believe that mer have exceptional magic, and by eating us they can inherit some of it." Azul sighs, visibly shivering.

"So you think that when Deuce finds out that Rielle is a human he'll-"

"Eat him, yes." The octomer finishes. Clearing his throat, he swims over to a wall full of scrolls. "That's why we have to stop him from getting close to him. We've seen many people from our hometown fall victim to power hungry humans."

"I'm sure you're aware of how close we live to the shoreline, yes?" Jade adds. Mc nods solemnly, guilt eating away at their heart.

Does that mean Ace and Deuce have eaten mer? They think, head starting to spin. They must be swaying a bit because Jade grabs their forearm to keep them steady.

"...My apologies." Azul looks at them sympathetically. "I suppose this must be a lot to hear considering that you don't remember much."

"I-it's fine-" They stutter. "I asked anyways."

"So I hope you see now why we have to sabotage them as much as possible." Jade nods in their direction. They gulp and nod back. "So this is exactly why we need your help in the next plan, considering everything we've done so far has put a stop in our plans."

"What do I-?"

"You need to marry Prince Deuce."

They choke, punching their chest a few times to get their breathing back to normal. "I have to what?!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. "It'll be easy~! Zul stole the

princey's voice that he used to woo the other princey when he saved him, he gives it to you, you woo him, you pretend to get married until the contract with the guppy expires, then you come back here and we give you back your legs!"

Mc stares, jaw slack at the long explanation. Jade chuckles next to them.

"Brilliant explanation, Floyd."

"Thanks!" The rambunctious eel chirps. Mc gulps as Azul lightly hands them a glowing orb that pulses in their palms.

"I don't have to actually get married, right?" They ask. The silver haired man nods. He lightly raised it to their chest and pushes in, watching it disappear into their sternum. They gasp a bit, taken back by the cold that bursts out from the area, before realizing that the water they'd been breathing in fine before was suddenly suffocating.

They choke and try to hold their breath, suddenly grabbed by a pair of strong arms and rushed to the surface. They take in a gulp of air, coughing up water on the eel's shoulder.

"Gross-" Floyd pushes them off him, making them struggle to stay afloat for a bit. They're scooped up by Jade, who helps carry them to the shoreline. They see Azul close behind, a little slower due to his tentacles not making him the fastest swimmer.

They get to the shore and are thrown some raggedy clothes, realizing that when they were a mer they had no need for them, but now they sort of had to wear them again. They slip the clothes on behind a rock and stand on the shore, rehearsing the plans with the mers that floated nearby.

"Just marry him by sundown tomorrow! Azul already handled getting him close enough to you!" Jade calls out. They wish them lick and swim back under the surface, disappearing under the waves.

"Okay-" They huff. "Here goes nothing..." They take a gasp and start humming, nervous at first. They then start singing softly, feeling dumb about the whole plan. They huff and decide to cut it short.

"W-wait!" A familiar voice calls from a balcony that hangs over the rocks. That was there the whole time?! They think, embarrassment making their face flush. How did they not hear Jade yelling earlier? "Please don't stop singing! I know you!" Footsteps slipping down the rocks greet them as their hands are grabbed and held close to the boy's chest. He beams down at them, sending a pang of guilt to their heart.

"You saved me, that day," He whispers breathlessly, bright green eyes gleaming. "It was you."

Mc can only allow themselves to be dragged back to the castle, listening to the boy's lovestruck speech and rants until they find themselves at the end of a long aisle lined with benches full of expecting nobles, and a beaming Deuce standing at the end. Shuffling in their wedding attire, they walk up the aisle, ignoring Jack's whimpers for them to stop.

"I'm sorry," They whisper, to Jack or Deuce, they don't know. "I have to save Rielle-"

The ship suddenly rocks and sways as something hits the side. They slip and tumble as it threatens to tip.

"A rogue wave?!" They hear a few guests yelp in a panic, holding on to their benches for dear life. Deuce slips and narrowly avoids falling off the edge by Ace grabbing his arm. Mc stumbles off the side, with Jack's futile attempt at biting their sleeve to keep them up failing miserably as they plummet to the sea. They let out a screech as they hit the water, back stinging as they hiss and take in water. A glass bottle is pressed to their mouth and they're forced to drink the substance inside, feeling their legs form together into a long tail once more.

"It's okay," Azul takes the bottle away from their mouth and lets them breathe. He holds them underneath their arms, allowing them to get a sense of their surroundings. "You're okay. You're fine." His voice shakes as another angry roar rips itself from deeper within the sea.

"I won't let you humans keep getting away with this!" A bearded man yells, throwing a glowing trident at the side of the ship and creating a large gash.

"What happened?!" They shout. Azul shakes his head.

"I'm not sure. Rielle found out about the marriage and came back to the kingdom an-and I suppose one of his brothers knew about Deuce and told their father-"

"The king..."

"King Ambrose, correct."

"Wait, Father, please!" They see the redheaded boy try to stop his father, pulling at his arm. "Please it's..." His eyes meet Mc's and they gulp, noticing the emotions that swim within them- pain, sadness, betrayal. King Ambrose follows his son's gaze to Azul and his eyebrows narrow.

"You!" The man booms. Azul yelps a bit and shrinks back, pausing before leading Mc to float behind him as the man approaches. He towers over the octomer, tail thrashing dangerously. "You're the man who sent my son up there. You're the one who allowed him to get closer to humans, the one who sent him there only to come home with a broken heart-"

Before they know it, Jade and Floyd are standing in front of Azul. Both expressionless and motionless, they stare down the king as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for this.

"Your majesty-" Jade bows, trying to cut the tension. "Azul was simply trying to-"

"Silence!" The man booms. He swings his trident quickly at the twin who spoke up. Floyd dashes in front of his brother and takes most of the blow to his arms, crossed protectively in front of his face. The boy hisses as he's thrown backwards, his twin chasing close behind him.

"Wait!" Mc cries, worried about their new friends. "Please- we can talk this-"

They're cut off by a chunk of debris falling between them- something Mc recognizes as part of the now sinking ship. They're launched to the seafloor with a sudden current, likely caused by the raging king on the other side. Looking up, they see lifeboats paddling away from the wreckage and they exhale, glad that everyone was able to get away safely.

They notice another chunk of metal shoot its way through the water as the remainder of the ship goes down. It shoots like a bullet- headed right towards the still stunned octomer.

"Azul!" Mc screams, trying to swim up towards him hopelessly. The boy is shoved out of the way by a blue of teal and black and Mc sighs, recognizing the tweels' coloration and features.

Looking back up, they scream as they see the metal headed towards them. They thrash, tail still not completely formed by the potion they took just minutes before. The appendage flops uselessly as they choke back a sob, the beam inches away from their face. They see the trio swimming towards them quickly.

Jade with a worried expression, eyebrows knitted and a scowl printed on his face, pulling Azul who looks to be on the verge of tears behind him, and Floyd, blood from the gashes on his arms staining the water around them, for once the nonchalant expression tossed to the side and filled with fear.

In what Mc thinks of being their last moments, they look to their friends and smile as if trying to tell them that they'll be okay.

Then they feel the cold metal pierce the first layer of skin through their chest and they black out completely, allowing themselves to succumb to sleep.

——————

They wake up moments later back in the sand, coughing it out of their lungs.

"Huh." They say, laying back on the sand and closing their eyes, trying to steady their breathing and racing heart. "I didn't realize I got do-overs-"

Fun fact actually pretty sad fact- almost every twst sorting quiz i get octavinelle (I got scarabia once but never again). so yeah thats fun. especially for someone who lives far away from the ocean. and who cant swim. y e p.

also am i shipping a half canon character with deuce? maybe. for plot purposes.

also after meeting ambrose the 63 at the end of pomefiores episode im not sure what to think about him. hes either just a kind old man or a nightmare dressed i.n cheesy wizard robes and i cant decide which

[naughtydaaikon]

Wonderstruck

Title: Wonderstruck 

Also on Ao3!

Fandom: Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Rating: T (warnings for some spicy kisses)

Word Count: 9,282 words (funny story, this was supposed to be like 3,000 words HAH.)

Summary: 

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like the honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death?

Alone…

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

Was she going to die without even being able to say goodbye to him? Without even being able to see him one last time? The villagers squabble amongst themselves around her, but their voices seem far away, the sound of her own heart pounding more loudly than a large hand against a drum drowning them out.

----

Nene has some important realizations in the midst of a precarious situation, and Hanako is amazingly stubborn about all of them. (Post Chapter 67 fic).

Notes: So, I’ve taken the plunge and written by own chapter 67 fic. I just couldn’t help myself. This entire arc I’ve been dying for some Hananene development. Okay. Let me be honest, I’ve been dying for a Hananene kiss in an unfamiliar place -- just like Nene described in her idealised love event. So, here I am! I hope that you all enjoy the fic. Please leave a comment on ao3, or here -- or in my inbox if you enjoy the fic! I love talking with other Hananene fans~

----

“It’s one of those famed love events you always get to hear about! At an unfamiliar location! Then, a gentle kiss!”

 ----

Yashiro Nene had always been a dreamer.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to weave all kinds of intricate fantasies, whimsical daydreams in which she was the star of some fantastical romantic plot. The role that she chose for herself was often the same — always the beautiful heroine of her own dashing love story to be whisked off of her feet by some stunning prince who adored both her and her chubby, thick ankles. Heroines in stories always found themselves at the center of a magical adventure, whether that adventure was being spirited away by some powerful evil or experiencing the painfully sweet throes of first love. So, Nene couldn’t be blamed if she often craved a little bit of that for herself, too, right? 

Then, she wonders as she is surrounded by the unnerving masks of indifferent villagers while standing near the ledge of a very tall cliff. Why does it feel like I’m being punished for wanting those things?!

Nene had always been a little too idealistic, easy to mess with, and impulsive. Those were the characteristics that had first drawn her to Hanako-kun’s bathroom in the first place. She had wanted a wish granted — had craved love — at any price. Nene had wanted that affection even if it meant offering a part of herself to an apparition that she hardly knew. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of those actions, not until she was already covered in wet scales and breathing through slitted gills. Still, she likes to think that she hadn’t done anything quite so foolish since that point again! 

Well.

Then again, there was the time that she had nearly gone off to become a fish apparition for the chance at her own harem… and the time that she had gotten tricked by Natushiko-senpai because he was hot… and the time that Nanamine-san and Tsukasa-kun had nearly sent her off to nowhere because Nanamine-san was just a little too beautiful and the cakes she had been given were just a little too good… and…

Okay, but I didn’t do anything like that just now! 

She holds her hands up as the villagers advance all around her. They argue amongst themselves as Nene struggles to figure out just what was happening. Today had to have been the longest she had ever experienced. It was right up there with the time that she had gotten stuck in Shijima-san’s picture world and that really hadn’t been all that long ago. She had simply wanted to spend time with her friends at night during study camp! She would be able to make some good memories with Aoi. Maybe she had even hoped that someone special (who definitely didn’t have Hanako-kun’s face in her fantasies, no sir!)  would ask her out and pull her away from her friends for a little alone time. It was possible that she’d even get her first kiss if she were proactive enough! Though, most importantly, she would be able to distract herself from dwelling her shortened life span for just one night of peace and fun. 

Clearly, that was not going to be the case. Then again, since coming to Kamome Academy, was anything ever just simple?

Instead, Aoi had been kidnapped and was now behaving...strangely. She’d pushed them into the pit that had led them to this strange feudal hamlet that seemed to have been cut out of the fabric of time. It was a place that went against everything that Nene understood about boundaries. Shijima-san’s boundary was like this too. It was almost normal until something sticks out like a sore thumb, something that reverberates within one’s soul that this wasn’t quite right. Like a moon and stars that are far too visible to have been from Kamome’s rooftops in the brightly lit city of Tokyo, or in this case, a small town that was more at home out of the history books that she sometimes perused for friends.

No water that nipped at her heels, soaking her legs and bringing forth scales — no crooked and misshaped atelier that didn’t belong — just a small village filled with people who wore masks of kindness, so twisted by their own fear that they forced young girls to smash their bodies onto the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff in what was a vicious mockery of marriage. 

So much for a fun night with friends! 

A night that was supposed to be filled with fun and games with her classmates had quickly dissolved into a nightmare that she wasn’t sure that she could escape. Nothing was ever just normal at Kamome. Even taking classes, the most normal and boring part of being a high school student could quickly shift into something sinister amongst the sturdy halls of the school. She’s been sick with worry for Aoi from the moment that they had ended in this awful place.

It’s not fair! That thought plays on a loop track within her mind just as the mask clad villagers seem to finally realize that she wasn’t actually Sumire-chan. “I’ve been saying all along that I’m not Sumire-chan!” Nene screeches, hands balling into fists in a rage. Why is this happening? It had all happened so fast, and now, it only seemed to be spiraling even further out of control. Her belly aches, legs still weak from when she had been punched. This isn’t a wedding at all!

No, Nene knew weddings — they were beautiful events where two people would be joined in love forever. This… her eyes drift back to the cliff. She can hear the waves of the ocean crashing against the cliff-side and shivers. The wind shrieks, howling as it buffets her body. One wrong step and she might go tumbling over into the frigid waters below. The bride of death. 

This wasn’t love. 

She isn’t sure what this is, but Nene knows that without a shred of a doubt. Sumire-chan…. seemed so happy when she was talking about getting married to Number 6! She couldn’t have known… 

Nene suppresses a shiver, swallowing thickly as her legs wobbled. “What’s with all of this?” Then, they had meant to throw Sumire-chan from this ledge? They had meant to kill Sumire-chan like this? They had manipulated her feelings to lead Sumire-chan to her own death? She thinks of Nene’s sweet, forlorn smile back in the bath. She had thought that she seemed lonely back then, a melancholy permeating her features that Nene hadn’t been able to understand. Tomorrow is a very important day, after all. 

Had she known?

Had she known that the only groom that would embrace her beyond the large arched torii on this cliff was the frigid ocean waters as it swept her into the abyssal dark?

Her face grows indescribably hot, teeth clenching. “You call this a wedding?” Her pulse quickens, fury ballooning inside of her at the injustice of it all. “Don’t tell me you were going to kill--” she’s silenced with the threat of a sharpened bamboo staff being brandished towards her. “Kyaaaaa!” Nene had been met with many dangerous situations while in boundaries, but never anything that ever felt quite this real. The edge of the shaft looks as though it’d make quick work of her if she even so much as tried to struggle any further. One jab of that and… 

She doesn’t want to think about it.

Unease rolls like corrosive sludge in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to think about her own mortality during her study trip. It’d been plaguing her from the moment that she had learned of her fate while in the painted world even though she’d been showing a brave face off to Hanako and Kou. She’d only wanted one day to be a normal teenager, having a fun night with friends, cooking, and playing games without acknowledging the swinging pendulum that inched ever closer over her head. 

What if this was it?

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like a honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death? 

Alone… 

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

Was she going to die without even being able to say goodbye to him? Without even being able to see him one last time? The villagers squabble amongst themselves around her, but their voices seem far away, the sound of her own heart pounding more loudly than a large hand against a drum drowning them out. 

She thinks of Hanako’s kind smile last night as he patted her head sweetly, bidding her goodnight. He’d probably stayed up all night to keep watch. She should’ve insisted that he sleep, but he had taken precautions to keep her safe, once more. He never worried about himself, after all. He viewed himself as nothing more than an afterthought. He was so gentle and she hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him about Sumire-chan. 

I said I’d protect him, she thinks, blinking back tears, throat burning as a sob builds there. But I just let him take care of me again. I didn’t tell him about Sumire-chan and now I might never see him again!

No, she thinks, raw panic spiking as one of these villagers grab her wrist with a frigid hand. “No! Wait!” She’s pulled back against the person, but they were just too strong. “Stop! Let go!”

The voices of the villagers grow louder, echoing around her into a crescendo of sound that encircles her like a ring of fire. It’s deafening. Her knees feel as though they’re going to give out, palms growing slick with sweaty terror. 

“Well done catching her.”

“Drop her off just like that!”

“Congratulations, Kannagi-sama!”

“Congratulations!”

When had congratulations ever sounded like a eulogy? 

No, no — no! She can’t do anything like this. She can’t run, and even if she did manage to break away from this man, she’s sure that she wouldn’t be able to fight off the crowd. She’s trapped, nothing but a weak high school girl with no special powers besides her own impending death. She’s going to die. They’re going to trap her or make her walk off of that cliff, and Hanako was nowhere to be found. 

Nothing familiar was anywhere to be found.  

If she’s going to die, then she at least wants to see Hanako. At least once. There was still so much that she hadn’t told him or thanked him for. She hadn’t thanked him for agreeing to grant her impossible wish back in the painted world. She hadn’t even managed to thank him for protecting her from the moment that they had fallen into this den of spiders. She hadn’t even told him how she felt about it. Not properly, at least. She’d only whispered that secret to a boy who she had thought was nothing more than a copy in what was just a happy dream. No, she didn’t just like Hanako. This emotion was far greater than that. She can feel it filling up her heart, no -- her entire being like helium. 

Nene knows what this is.

She knows it by the way that she can use at least 50 different colorful adjectives to describe the exact hue of his eyes -- from the way that his smile sends her into near cardiac arrest. She’d grown so used to the unnatural coolness that emanated from his body that she had come to crave it. She felt safe in his arms. It felt right to be with Hanako. As though that was where she’d always belonged. It was almost funny, she was a girl who was always a little too silly -- a little too clumsy and a little too overly romantic to fit in fully with her peers, and yet the affection that she always craved -- that sense of this is where I’m meant to be -- came from the cold embrace of a ghost. 

And the last thing I said to him was good night. 

He… didn’t know that she loved him.

I love him, and the realization is so simple, so natural, that she wonders why she didn’t realize it sooner — and she’d never even get to tell him. It’s not fair! She’d realized that she truly loved a boy and he’d never even get to know? She’d die without even being able to tell him? That was the only thing that she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember, and knowing that it was all about to be taken from her was just too much to bear. She was already going to die and couldn’t even do the one thing that she’d always wanted? Maybe it was a selfish desire, but it’s choking her, clogging her throat as she screams. 

“No! Hanako-kun!”

The wind howls, cloth fluttering all around her as she is suddenly pulled against the sturdy, cool chest of the person who’s captured her. The mask falls away from his face, revealing hooded eyes as golden as the incandescently lit full moon in the sky and the too-wide, almost feral smile that she never failed to make her heart feel as though she’s just finished running a marathon. Time seems to slow to a snail’s crawl as his hand entwined with hers, just as cool and comforting as it always was. 

“I’m heeeeeeere!~” He drawls, voice airy and cheerful, as though they weren’t caught at the mercy of a violent mob. Her throat tightens, tears of pure relief prickling at the corners of her eyes. Was she… dreaming? Perhaps this was some kind of elaborate hallucination just as she was pushed over the edge?

No —

He feels just as solid and cool as he normally did. A body that emanated no warmth, and yet Hanako himself was nothing but the balm of summer in the way that he made her feel. That was the same. It was really him!

Hanako-kun was here?

Perhaps it’s because he’s dressed in the same manner of the villagers and maybe it’s because the wind is still buffeting the two of them, but Nene is caught up within the magic of the moment. Hanako looks like something out of a storybook or a manga -- a powerful knight protecting a princess. She blinked back tears. He was here! He was okay! “Hanako-kun…?” She whispers, and this feeling that swells in her chest is more intense than the punch to the gut that she had received earlier. It feels as though she’s breathless, eyes still blurry with tears as she looks up at him. Had his smile always been this soft? His eyes, always so bright and filled with kindness — and perhaps… relief? 

He wraps his arms around her tightly then — so tight that it feels as though he doesn’t want to ever release her. There’s a slight tremble in his voice as he murmurs, “Sorry I’m late.” His cheek nuzzles against her throat, and she can almost feel the slight brush of his lips. It’s ticklish, but also so inviting that she almost melts into his arms. Hanako-kun was here. Relief rushes through her. Hanako-kun was here. Everything would be okay, now. She wouldn’t die with him around. Hanako-kun always kept his promises, after all.

She closes her eyes, sagging against him. She isn’t going to die. 

I’m not going to die… She repeats that thought to herself even as her knees buckle as her tension evaporates.

Maybe she’d even get to tell him —

“Sorry, but,” he flings the mask into the face of one of the more vocal villagers. The man cried out in pain as it collided with his skull, knocking him off of his feet from the force of the blow. “--The wedding is canceled!” The arms around her loosen, as one of his hands sliding down around her waist as he uses his other hand to rip the formal clothing off of himself, revealing his normal gakuran attire. Then, he squeezes her tightly, arm pressing her against his side. His cheek brushes against hers, much like a needy feline demanding affection. “I can’t just let some nobody out there take my assistant as a bride, right?” 

He speaks with such conviction, brandishing his knife towards the crowd. He’s still smiling, but the arm around her waist holds her securely.  Nene relaxes against him. If Hanako was here now, nothing could possibly go wrong. He squeezes her in a reassuring way and there’s something possessive about the action, as though he’s the one claiming ownership of her. 

Or -- perhaps, that was wishful thinking on her part. She so badly wants to be claimed by him. Her cheeks grow warm and she can’t help herself from throwing her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him just as tightly as he had done to her earlier. 

He’d saved her again. 

“You’re here, Hanako-kun!” She pulls back, and cups his cheeks, squeezing and stretching them out to make sure that he was really real. “It’s really you!” He laughs outright, then, eyes still focused on the people that were surrounding them. His voice sounds so merry that it’s enough to soothe some of her fear. 

“Yashiro, at least wait until we’re alone before you feel me up,” he teases, smile hardening as some of the villagers close in, finally regaining their bearings after Hanako’s sudden appearance. “We still have an audience of nosy pests here, after all.” He nuzzles her cheek again and she has to struggle to suppress the embarrassing whine that wells up in her throat. “You naughty daikon, you!” Nene flushes indignantly. He was really going to tease her right now? And was now really the time for daikon jokes!? “I’m not feeling you up!” If her voice was any higher at this moment, she’s sure that only dogs and small animals could hear it. 

Though, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that wants very much to kiss him at this very moment. He just looks so heroic -- almost majestic as he bravely faces off against their enemies. It was at times like this that Hanako seems just as dashing as a prince out of her favorite novels. It didn’t matter that he was shorter than her, or that his cheeks lacked the angled sharpness of the men that she typically preferred. 

He was just Hanako -- the boy who was entirely dedicated to keeping her safe. The boy she loved. Her heart hammers. At least it was getting easier to say now. 

“Retrieve the Kannagi!” One of the villagers shouts loudly. It’s chaos as the angry group attempts to rush them. Weapons are drawn, pointed at them -- all manner of spears, swords, and sharpened bamboo as they jab the weapons towards the pair. “She must not escape!”  Hanako frowns, leaping backward as the crowd continues to approach. They were determined to have their sacrifice one way or another, it seemed. 

They’re trying to push us to the edge of the cliff! Nene realizes, horrified as they draw ever closer to the edge. 

“Yashiro?” Hanako asks, hand gripping even more tightly around her waist as her feet hit the edge of the cliff. “Are you scared?” 

She swallows anxiously, wondering just what kind of question that was. “O-Of course I am!” She tries hard not to look behind her. The rocks at the bottom of the cliff looked so sharp… “B-But, you’re not going to let anything happen to me?” She pauses. “Right?”

The grin that he gives her is more blinding than the sun itself. “Of course not!” He says, voice filled with confidence. “So, there’s no reason for you to be afraid, alright?” He nods as though confirming that simple fact to himself as well. His other arm joins the one tucked around her waist, eyes darting towards the cliff. He looks back at her, his smile growing wide and cat-like as his eyes take on a hooded appearance. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” Nene’s brows furl. Why was he asking her all of these questions all of a sudden? This was beginning to feel all too familiar, even if she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

“Y...Yes?”

“Good.”

The knife in his hand dissipates as though it hadn’t even existed. Why was he putting that away? Wasn’t he going to fight the villagers--

Oh no.

Nononononono.

He wasn’t —  

“H-Hanako-kun--” she says worriedly, “Hey, wait a second — AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Nene screams wildly as he suddenly scoops her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style before he turns away from the villagers and takes and leaps off of the cliff. It feels as though her heart has leaped into her throat, as though her stomach had just dropped right out of her body. Hanako laughs merrily as the wind pushes against them like an assault. “Look out belooooow!” He calls out. If Nene weren’t currently screaming at the top of her lungs and clinging to him with all of her might, she would’ve wrung his neck. 

Her vision spots, a sort of fog entering her head. It’s as though she’d been thrust into static, white noise crackling in her ears.

Well, she thinks as the last traces of her consciousness begin to fade away. I’ll have time to strangle him later...

Among other things. 

-----

Nene awakes sometime later, groaning as she rolls onto her back. Something soft is cushioning her and she’s wrapped up as though bundled in a blanket. Her clothes are still wet, leaving her shivering as she grabs the edges of the blanket, holding it tighter. She can hear what sounds like dripping water, as though a glass of water has been spilled. There’s a rhythmic beat to the drip, one that is almost calming enough to lull her back to sleep. Her vision blurs as she opens her eyes, sitting up as she rubs the tiredness from her eyes. Wherever she was, it was dark. Only a small amount of light seemed to slither through openings that were in the ceiling or roof of this place. There’s some kind of stone surrounding her, as well. 

Was this… some kind of a cave?

She looks down, discovering that what she wasn’t actually a blanket, but heavy layers of clothing. They resemble the clothing that the villagers had worn. No, not the villagers… Hanako-kun had been wearing this as well when he had rescued her, hadn’t he? 

“You’re awake? Good,” she jolts at the sound of Hanako’s voice. He’s sitting beside her, knees drawn up to his chest. He gives her a small smile, cheek resting against his knees. His hands brush over her bangs. “You know, Yashiro -- it’s probably not normal to pass out like that all of the time. Those fainting spells can’t be good for your heart. Were you just that excited to be in my arms? For shame!” 

In his arms?

She’s puzzled before memories of leaping into the icy water below assault her. She must’ve turned into a fish! She was still drenched and her eyes narrow as she glared at the boy beside her. Jerk! It wasn’t the fainting spells that weren’t good for her heart, it was him! “A little warning would’ve been nice!” She barks back, sitting up fully now. She jabs an accusing finger towards him. “Why are you always throwing me from high places! That’s what’s not good for my heart!” she hits his arm, causing him to wince and rub at the abused skin. She chooses to ignore his innuendo-laden comment. Honestly! Did she have to be in love with such a perverted person?

Her heart flinches.

Right. 

She’d realized that earlier, hadn’t she?

That knowledge makes her grow strangely rigid. She covers a hand over her heart. It was pounding so loudly now that she worries if he can also hear it. Throughout that entire ordeal, she’d been afraid of dying and never seeing Hanako-kun again. She can still feel all of those emotions, taking up space inside of her, threatening to explode. Nene isn’t sure that she’d be able to put the lid on them again. 

Or if she even wanted to.

She’d made a promise to herself earlier, hadn’t she? 

It hangs over her head like a guillotine. Nene’s face grows redder, palms clammier as she sits rigidly. She had made that promise — and now she would need to make good on it. She casts a cautionary glance towards Hanako, who had already slid closer to her. “Hmm? I did give you a warning, didn’t I?” He wraps one of his arms around her, snaking it around her waist as his chin moves to rest on her shoulder. She’d long since grown accustomed to this kind of invasion of space from him. Though, with her earlier revelation in mind, it’s as though she can feel his embrace that much more. 

Even with their bond, Hanako’s body rarely had a solidness to it that seemed real unless he was touching her. He was like the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in a window. If she reaches out to touch him, he’d slip right through the gaps between her fingers fading into nothingness. 

But now? It’s as though every nerve within her body is heavily aware of him. As though she’s realized something, so vital, so crucial that she’s stunned that it’s taken her this long to realize that he’s always been right there. Solid. Firm.

Real. 

She only needs to reach out —

“You didn’t,” it’s an olympic feat to keep her words from jumbling together. It feels like her heart has been replaced by a drum, being struck with violent force. Did he hear it? He had to hear it! It was more like thunder than a heartbeat at this point! 

“You just asked if I trusted you and then flung the both of us off of a cliff, mister!”  She jabs an accusing finger against his chest, making him yelp and flinch back. Good, she had space. Space to think. Space was good. In fact, she scoots her butt a few inches in a different direction, putting even more distance between them. “Speaking of which, where even are we?” She’s sure that her voice is getting squeaky again. Kind of like she’s just breathed in a tank full of helium gas. 

Not good.

He casts a glance towards their left, amber eyes narrowing towards that direction and she sees the shining of sunlight in the distance. “I found a cave along the bank at the bottom of the cliff,” he explains, following her like a needy cat would. Nanamine-san really had been onto something with that comparison. Hanako captures her in his arms again, rubbing his cheek along the exposed clavicle of her throat and she’s sure that at this point, her heartbeat best resembles the rolling thunder of a storm. 

“I think we should stay here until it gets darker. Those people might have given up the chase by that point.”

It was a solid enough plan. The last thing Nene wanted was a fight, but the idea of staying alone with Hanako for that long was doing odd things to her insides. She feels all twisted up, like she’s a rag being rung dry as she sits behind him. Then again, she’d already spent an entire night alone with Hanako on the previous night. All alone in a darkened room, with nothing but the slight, dim lamp of a lantern to illuminate both of them. Come to think of it, that had been pretty intimate, hadn’t it!?

She hadn’t even considered —

“Aren’t you Gon’s lover?”

SKDFSLKDFS;KDFSKFIJS;LEDFSLFSF’S!

“At that point, we can search for Number 6’s Yorishiro,” Hanako continues, oblivious to her internal meltdown. “I’ll make sure that we escape as soon as possible. If I’m not careful you might just nearly end up as someone’s bride again,” his eyes sharpen as he glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, his smile dropping. He pinches her cheek as though to admonish her and Nene winces, releasing a whine of pure mortification. 

“It’s not like I wanted to get married! Everything just happened so fast — and where were you all that time, huh?” She turns in his arms, her annoyance enough to make her momentarily forget all about her dilemma. 

He had been beside her when she had first fallen asleep, only to be gone by morning. She couldn’t imagine that he had left her side after insisting that he’d stay awake in order to keep watch throughout the night. Hanako had been on edge ever since first arriving at this strange place, after all — not that she could blame him. Nothing had gone right since they had arrived. Even Hanako, who was normally as powerful and brave as a dashing knight had been subdued by Sumire-chan earlier. 

Nene can’t remember ever seeing Hanako so quickly bested, not even when he’d been beaten by Yako-san back in her boundary. Even then, that had been temporary. He’d been able to hold his own until she had finally found Yako-san’s yorishiro. 

To her relief — disappointment — she doesn’t know anymore — Hanako releases her, dropping his hands down to his side. He leans his head back against the wall of the cave, staring up at a small slither of light that peaks through an opening in the ceiling of the cave. “Our retainer friend found it prudent to incapacitate me while you took her place,” he’s dropped the teasing tone, voice going flat as his hands ball into fists, filled with tension. He uses one hand to pull the bill of his hat down, obscuring his eyes. “For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

Large doe eyes widen, “You mean… Sumire-chan knew what was going to happen?” 

Hanako makes a soft sound of affirmation.

No — she’d seemed so genuine when speaking of her love for number 6. She’d wanted to marry him. She didn’t think that kind of emotion could be easily faked. Wait -- hadn’t the villagers said something about that? It was difficult to remember most of what was being said during all of the shouting and confusion, but one thing had stuck out. “To run from your duty… What a failure of a Kannagi you are. 

Duty.

If it was the duty of a Kannagi to literally wed death, then it made sense that a mortal would need to die to be with her betrothed. The villagers had all escorted her to the torii gate, speaking of marriage and showering her in congratulations, but had all grown panicked and angry when she had tried to run. Come to think of it, one of them had mentioned they hadn’t want to use the strange drug that they had poisoned her with. It all aligned in her mind neatly like pieces of a large puzzle being arranged.

“She… tricked me?” Nene asks faintly.

“She tricked us both,” he reaches for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Remember what I said? She’s a retainer. Nothing but a puppet on strings--

“No!” Those words swell in her chest and then burst out of her before she can even stop them. “I — I know Sumire-chan isn’t like that!” 

Sure, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Nene had saw the good within someone who didn’t deserve it. She’s oftentimes naive, easy to trick, and impulsive, ignoring red flags that were waving right in front of her face. Hanako had told her that she was a sucker for hot guys and apparitions and with all of her past experiences, she knows that he’s right about that. 

Still.

She’d seen Sumire’s memories while in that dream-like state. At least, that’s what she thinks those feelings were. Glimpses of a life that had been cut far too short. Of feelings that had been manifested, and yet never fully requited. At least not in the way that Sumire-chan would have wanted. They had to have been her memories, right? It was like whenever she removed the seal of a yorishiro. Nene’s face scrunches up, lips pursed tightly and nose wrinkled as she thinks. Number 6 hadn’t shown a slither of remorse as he watched Sumire march steadily towards death. She tries to imagine what she would feel like in a similar situation -- if the person that she loved -- if Hanako had watched her die without even batting an eyelash.

Pain as sharp as a stab wound to the chest all but knocks the wind out of her. 

She can’t even imagine it. No — she doesn’t want to imagine it.

Those feelings… they couldn’t be just an illusion? She knows…. She just knows that Sumire-chan was no mere puppet. 

Hanako’s fingers cup underneath her chin, lifting her eyes towards his. “There’s no need to defend her,” he admonishes, lips pressing downward in apparent displeasure. His eyes harden. “You were nearly killed because of her. You understand that, right?” His voice has gone flat, like he got when there were all kinds of dark emotions swirling inside of him. She didn’t always understand it, but this was the side of Hanako that always unnerved her. He’s normally so playful, so kind to her that she often forgot that it existed at least until it appeared once more. He holds so many secrets, keeping his emotions bottled up inside of him, displaying them to no one but his own demons. 

It’s only at times like this that Nene truly feels her age. She’s nothing but a silly, 15-year-old teenaged girl. She’s Yashiro Nene — dreamy, reckless, and totally gullible and he’s the honorable Hanako-san of the Toilet. He’d lived a life that was drenched in blood, sin and now walked a solemn path of duty and  atonement in death. It’s always a little hard to wrap her head around. 

It was… frustrating. 

“That’s true,” she mumbles, sighing in a pleased way when he moves his hand up from her chin, cupping her cheek. It’s cool, lacking body heat as usual, but she appreciated the gesture, regardless. “But — I just… don’t think that she’s just a puppet, Hanako. She feels like she’s...real,” and if Number 6 had made her into his yorishiro — a real, breathing person with thoughts and feelings — then she must’ve been important to him? Had he changed his mind? If they had tried to make her take her place, then perhaps they were trying to save Sumire-chan from her fate?

Could she blame her for that?

If she could only be with Hanako-kun at the expense of another person, then…

She isn’t sure what choice she would’ve made.  She didn’t think that she could actually hurt someone knowingly, but also couldn’t be upset with Sumire-chan for her betrayal. There’s an ache in her heart that hasn’t subsided since she’d been drugged. A lonely longing that nearly swallows her heart entirely. 

Sumire-chan’s feelings...

She averts her eyes from Hanako’s oche ones, pulling the decorative haori snuggly around her shoulders and staring down at her knees. 

“She must’ve had her reasons,” Nene says confidently. That had to be it. She’s absolutely sure of it. 

“Yashiro.”

Hanako sounds disappointed, tone morose as he says her name like a parent scolding a child. “The only reason that she feels real is because she is a manifestation of Number 6’s memories,” he explains, though she can tell that there isn’t much patience within him at the moment. “She is a reflection of who he thought she was, but in the end, her will isn’t her own,” ochre eyes harden as his hand falls from her cheek and back to his side. She falls quiet, choosing to listen to him speak.

“He is looking for a kannagi,” he says softly. “To take her place. That’s why he took your friend Aoi in the first place. She’s not actually real. He wants to change that, as ridiculous as that even is,” when Hanako got like this, his words could become as corrosive as acid. 

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“Huh?” Her question clearly catches him off guard as his eyes are drawn back to hers. 

“Why is it ridiculous that he’s trying to find a way to keep the person that he loves by his side?” She asks quietly. She touches her heart; it’s throbbing with an emotion that wasn’t her own, and yet was so familiar. It’s a borrowed emotion, but it’s also her own. She understands Sumire-chan. She can even understand Number 6. “I think he’s being selfish like Yako-san was… and like how I used to be when I first sought you out for a wish, but I don’t think wanting to be with the person you love is ridiculous.” 

Her near-death experience was still too close. She’d been desperate to see Hanako, too. Just to see him one last time. Had that been a selfish wish? 

She’d even made a promise. 

Hanako’s brow furls, “Yashiro… what they’re doing is putting people in danger,” he says, this time taking her shoulders in his hands. He squeezes them, as though pleading with her to understand. “It put you in danger.” 

— And there it was.

Nene blinks, and the answer seems so obvious that she’s surprised that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. “You were afraid that I’d die.”

He nods, sighing as his head drops down, forehead brushing against her shoulder. “I.. thought that I wouldn’t make it to you in time. She had used her spiritual powers on me in the morning so there was nothing that I could do to stop those people when they came to get you. If I’d been any later…” 

If he’d been any later… 

That possibility remains unspoken, even as her chest grows tighter, something itchy forming in her throat. Words are lodged there and when she parts her lips, it’s hard to force her voice through them. “I would have died.”

“You would have died,” he repeats, nodding against her. His forehead is just as cool as the rest of his body. “We still don’t know when your lifespan will run out.”

That was true. 

Then, he lifts his head, smiling in that gentle way that never failed to make her belly throb with yearning. It’s such a kind, sad smile. It was less Hanako and more like Amane, the boy that she had seen in Tsuchigomori-sensei’s memories, though that wasn’t exactly right, either. Hanako was a role that he plays, and he hadn’t been Amane in many years. Or perhaps this smile was the real him? The person beneath the role. The person that Amane had become. 

He’d said before that the dead had no future — that nothing new could happen for those who had died, but… Nene’s not so sure that she believes that. He’d grown — changed, hadn’t he?

“Besides,” he tells her, giving her a playful but light flick on the forehead. “I told you that I’m going to grant your wish for you. You don’t doubt my abilities do you?” He pouts, donning the Hanako-san mask again effortlessly. A flirty gesture of a playful joke from him has always been an effective distractor for her, after all. She’s not sure why, but it makes her kind of angry. He’s rarely truly honest with her, not about his feelings at least. 

Perhaps that is what spurs her on.

She’s not sure where her confidence comes from. It surges in her chest, making her grab the collar of his gakuran as she tugs him forward and all presses her lips against his. 

He releases a startled gasp, even when their teeth clink together. It kind of hurts, honestly. 

I messed up! She thinks, absolutely panicked. Her lips were throbbing from where she had all but headbutted (lipbutted?) him, and she goes rigid against him. Their lips were still mashed together, but neither of them moves an inch. Nene can’t help but think that this was nothing like the books or even her own fantasies. Hanako’s lips were cold, and he was stiller than a block of eyes, his entire body taut with tension. He seems shell shocked, but she can’t exactly blame him.

She’d moved before her brain had even had a chance to catch up with her body, after all. Nene was a lot of things and a quitter wasn’t one of them. I promised, she thinks to herself, steeling her resolve, even if she wants to pull from the badly aimed first kiss and run for the hills. She promised that she would tell him how she felt about him, and she couldn’t continue to have cold feet.

After all, he’d been just as scared as she had been before… right?

He hadn’t wanted to lose her, either.

And if a first kiss ended this pathetically, she thinks that she’d actually drop dead from humiliation. So, she pushes through it, softening her lips so that the kiss became less of an aggressive assault and more of a chaste peck. Come to think of it, his lips were rather soft, weren’t they? They feel nice, inspiring a warm, pleasant feeling in her chest. She pushes closer, lips pressing more firmly against his own and Hanako makes a sound that sounds remarkably like a dying, yowling cat. 

It’s only then that she pulls back, face burning hot from her own boldness. “I’d never doubt you,” she says firmly. “I was just afraid before, back at the wedding. It was really scary but -- and for a second I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again. That was scarier than when I thought I was doing to die,” she admits in a rush of words. Her heart thrums loudly, and suddenly it feels like the cave has grown excessively hot. She chances a glance at Hanako and nearly gasps herself at what she sees.

He’d been red back when she’d kissed his cheek before, too.  Though now, it was though his skin had been dyed with the color, splotches of color burning across his face. He gapes at her, as though she had grown a second head. It’s like his body has turned to stone. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks. “Yashiro,” his voice is barely a whisper, trembling the entire time. “What are you doing?”

The answer seems so obvious to her that she almost laughs. Well, she would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel nearly just as faint. She’s sure that her face looks just as comical as his own. Though, his reaction brings her some relief. He’s just as out of his element as she is. “What do you think it means when a girl kisses someone, Hanako-kun?” She wants to sound sophisticated and sure, but her voice is chipmunk high. She’s sure she sounds just like Black Canyon-chan right now. She still can’t quite believe herself, either. She’d kissed him! She kissed Hanako! 

“I --,” he swallows like thick sludge is lodged in his throat. “You shouldn’t--.” he pauses as though trying to collect his thoughts. He tugs at the collar of his gakuran, fidgeting as though ants had crawled into his clothing. “You shouldn’t do things like that. I’ll get the wrong idea.”

Wrong idea? That statement throws her mind for a loop. How would he get the wrong idea from a kiss? She thinks that it’s pretty self-explanatory! Kisses usually only meant one thing, after all. He can’t be this dense, right? She had even told him that she liked him back in the painted world. She’s sure that he knows that, right? 

“W-What’s the wrong idea?” She demands, small hands balling themselves into frustrated fists. “I told you before, right? I like you!” The words are out before she can stop them, but she’s far too annoyed to even care about that right now. Her first kiss and he has the nerve to look like his favorite hamster had just died. 

His two index fingers press together as he fidgets, “I know,” he mumbles, then glances back at her, almost shy. “I just -- it’s probably not a good idea, you know.” She can tell what he must be thinking. He’s dead and she’s...not. Even if her wish is eventually granted, she will eventually need to leave the school and move on from Kamome academy. Her life would go on, and his wouldn’t.

It isn’t much of a future.

Nene had already thought about all of that.  If it wasn’t her shortened lifespan, she’d often spend her nights agonizing over her feelings for the ghost boy. It was love, but a doomed one. A relationship with a supernatural had a time limit, even in the best of cases. 

“There’s so much that you deserve,” he continues, and her breath hitches when he leans forward, lips brushing against her cheek. He hadn’t done anything like that since the incident with the confession tree. Her belly works itself into knots, especially when he wraps an arm around her waist. “I can’t give you any of that. I’m dead, Yashiro. I can only promise to fulfill your wish so that you can live to your 90s and go marry some lame fantasy prince.” He moves his free hand to ruffle her hair, smiling in that frustratingly self-sacrificial way. As though that was that. Like the discussion was over. 

It feels strange to hear him echoing her previous desires. True, before meeting Hanako, all she could dream about was being swept off of her feet by a tall, stunning prince-like boy. All of those wishes feel hollow now, like emptiness gnawing at her heart. 

She still wants love.

It’s just --

“I don’t want any of that unless it’s with you, Hanako-kun.” His eyes grow as wide as saucers, the light filtering from the top of the cave makes the gold within them sparkle like moonstones. He opens his mouth and she knows that he’s going to try to keep fighting her on this. He had so many reasons why this wouldn’t work.

I’m dead, Yashiro.

I can’t take you on dates, Yashiro.

I can’t grow old with you.

I’m bound to Kamome. 

You deserve better than me.

Unfortunately for him -- she doesn’t want to hear any of them. 

Nene surges forward, kissing Hanako again. This time, she sits up onto her knees, invading his space and taking his face into her hands. If she can’t convince him with her words, then perhaps she can convince through action? Nene tilts her head and parts her lips. There, that feels a bit better than just kissing with her mouth squeezed closed. Hanako’s lips are slightly moist. They shiver as she carefully another kiss to the corner of his lips, and then the other.

This didn’t feel as awkward as last time, but Hanako is still far too rigid for her liking. “We can go on dates in the boundaries,” she says as she pulls away. She loops her arms around his shoulders and moves to kneel in between his parted legs. Sometime in between her kissing him again, he’d sprawled back slightly, legs splaying and arms reaching out as though he wants to grab onto something, though he isn’t quite sure what. 

She brushes her lips against his lips again, softer this time as she opens her mouth experimentally. That feels… kind of nice, actually. There are no fireworks, but she begins to feel a slight, almost ticklish feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Even if you can’t grow old with me. I’m sure that we’ll figure something out. I just… I just want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she draws back and makes direct eye contact this time.

She needs him to understand that.

None of those superficial things mattered to her anymore. It would all feel empty without at least trying to pursue her feelings for him. “And you -- you keep saying that I deserve better. But what about you, Hanako-kun?” He tenses at her words, and she knows that she’s nailed the true crux of the problem. Her eyes soften, and she presses her forehead against his. “Don’t keep saying that I deserve better than you. When I want you — and you — don’t you deserve some happiness, too?”

His eyes squeeze shut, pained. His voice sounds raw, as though he’d cry at any second, “I don’t -- Yashiro. There’s so much you don’t know--” “And I’m telling you that I don’t care!” She yells, cutting him off. It hurts to hear him speaking that way about himself. She knows that he’s killed -- his own brother, no less. But, she’s seen enough of his past self to know that he wouldn’t have taken such drastic action without there being some sort of reason. She didn’t know what that reason was, or if there was any excuse for murder. He’d promised to tell her everything when he was ready to and she was more than prepared to wait for him. 

There’s so much that she doesn’t understand about Hanako.

— But she can’t bring herself to judge him for any of it. 

His expression is one of slack-jawed shock like he can’t quite believe that she exists. She kisses him again, harder this time. She wants him to understand. No — she needs him to understand. Luckily, it’s this kiss where Hanako seems to finally regain some of his brain’s function. Or at least, his body has finally caught up to what was happening. He releases a soft, almost strangled sigh as his hands wrap around her. It’s a tight, almost desperate sort of hug. It’s like he’s never hugged anyone before in his life like he’s starved for her.

He clutches at her back, fingers digging into the fabric of her kimono as he finally returns the kiss. His lips part, mouth opening as he draws her bottom lip into his mouth. Nene whimpers, a thrill of pure heat blossoming in her chest. One of Hanako’s sharper teeth caught on her lips. It drags along the swell of the tender flesh, and while it stings, it also inspires a feeling inside of that that is so sharp that she can’t help but shudder.

What -- is this?

“Yashiro,” Hanako murmurs against her mouth. “Do you really mean all of that?” His question is a probing one. He sounds nervous, excited, and terrified all at once. He changes the angle of the kiss, inclining his head as his tongue swipes along the underside of her lip. If her insides had been jumbled up before, it was as though one thousand tiny butterflies had all been jammed inside of her belly now. She can’t stop the soft whine from escaping from her. He’d -- he’d just spoken, hadn’t he? 

“Y-Yes,” she admits, hands moving from their position up to his hair. She’s not sure why, but it feels right to do that. His hair is soft to the touch, like satin on her fingertips. Nene swipes his hat off of his head in her enthusiasm, and she’s not sure where it falls off to, nor does she care. “I want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she repeats, feeling as though she is in a haze. Her brain feels like it’s filled with cotton candy or clouds as soft as the ones that had been in Shijima-san’s picture world.

She’d wanted to kiss him then, too.

He groans, this time ducking his head away from her mouth. She wants to protest from the lack of contact. Why had he stopped kissing her? Kissing had just started to feel very nice and she beginning to see what all of the fuss was about —  

He kisses the underside of her jaw and she whines. She wants to cover her mouth. She’s sure that sounded pretty embarrassing, but Hanako doesn’t seem perturbed by the sound at all. If anything, it spurs him on, his lips dragging down from along her jaw as he peppers kisses wherever he can find exposed skin along her throat. The collar of the kimono was high, and he couldn’t get as much access as she would’ve liked. 

Oh.

What is she thinking?!

“Yashiro — Yashiro,” he whispers her name against her skin. His lips part, open-mouthed as he draws the skin of her neck into his mouth. She trembles, goosebumps breaking out along her flesh from the feeling. Now that feels like fireworks. 

She finds herself on her back, Hanako sprawled out on top of her and she’s not quite sure how they ended up in this position. Her heart feels so full -- like it might burst at any moment. Hanako runs his fingers through her hair, combing his fingers through her scalp and it feels so nice that she can’t help but close her eyes and moan. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but she grabs both of his cheeks, tugging him down to kiss him silent once more. 

“Don’t apologize.” Why would he be sorry for this? For making her feel like this.

For being as close to death as she was, she’d never felt more alive. 

“I just — ,” he struggles with his words. “I want this — I want to be with you, too,” his eyes burn, and as he draws away. No, she thinks breathlessly. I want more. Kiss me more — “I feel like I’m dooming you. If — if we’re together… then can I really grant your wish?” His hands tremble as he moves a hand down to cradle her cheek. “What if I want to keep you all to myself? I just...feel so selfish.”

More. More. More —

She kisses each of his cheeks and then finds herself fumbling with the buttons of his gakuran, if only to gain access to his throat. He sounds so stunned, head falling against her shoulder as he presses his body against her. Did he feel the same way that she did right now? He had been covered in so many bruises in the past when he was alive. She wonders if anyone had ever touched him with the intent of causing joy — and not pain. 

A tornado storms inside of her, feelings too intense for her to even put a name to overwhelming her. She can feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Their situation wasn’t exactly a fair one. Two doors were set before her. Death or life. Both options would take her away from him. Though, when he holds her this way — and says such sweet, honest things, Nene thinks that she’d be alright with dying. At least if it was like this. 

Was this -- how Sumire-chan felt? 

“Then have me,” Nene whispers. “Let’s be together.” 

He chokes on what sounds like a sob, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he smiles down at her. He chuckles.

“So many wishes. How can I keep up with granting all of them?” He uses his fingers to wipe at the tears that had begun to fall freely down her cheeks. He brings one of her hands to his lips, brushing them against the back of her palm. “You’re so needy, Yashiro.” 

“It’s a boyfriend’s job to grant his girlfriend’s needy wishes,” she returns his smile. Then, she kisses him again, opening her mouth he can suckle on the tip of her tongue. She shudders -- yes, this is where she is meant to be. 

“Is that so?” 

“It is,” she affirms, quieting him again.

She isn’t sure how long they were meant to last -- but Nene does know this. 

She’d brave it all for him. 

---- 

The end.

----

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hide Your Love Away (Paul McCartney x fem! Royal! reader Oneshot)

From an anon request:  can you write Paul x reader oneshot or something where she’s going to have an arranged marriage the following day, which is forced by her family. but she doesn’t want it since she’s secretly dating Paul. So they go on their last date, pretending it’s their honeymoon just for one day since they know they have to be separated after that🥺(sry I’m a sucker for sad/angst fic with lil fluff)

Word Count: Less than 2K

Warnings: swearing, angst with fluff, mentions of weddings and sex. Lack of editing,

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! In order for the premise to work, I decided to make you a member of the noble class who has to marry into royalty  (I got inspired some by The Crown on Netflix, whoops) when you really love Paul. Much love to my angels @joeneslee​ @bens-jawline​ and @rhapsodyrecs​ for helping me when writers block stuck for this one!

 “I just met him, how can I marry him?” you asked with tears blinking in your eyes.

Sighing, you could tell the diadem on your mothers head was beginning to droop. Your father began cutting his meat with more fury. It made the metals on his suit follow in a clink, clink, clink.

“Because this marriage is important to us- to your whole family!” he said.

“But he…I…how do you know it will work?” you question. The diamonds on your necklace feel like an icy grip.

“That doesn’t matter, you will make it work. You always have. It’s the price you pay for your title. It’s going to secure everything. The Prince of Cardonia already agreed to it,” your mother said.

“I…”

“Y/N, you’re a duchess. You do understand the consequences if you don’t do this…money will fall, we’ll lose protection…our house, everything.”

Squeezing your hands together, you began to blink away tears.

“And think of how the alliance will help us, politically. Do you want our people to suffer?” your father pointed out.

You agreed to the match. In a way, you could be a good leader still. Carry out orders. Make changes. Protect people. But it was useless now.

In your room, you began dialing madly for his number. Pacing, the ring on the phone seemed to last forever. Who knew a chance encounter at a party for music led to you both. Then all these phone calls. The meetings. Then meetings led to more talk. And soon your mouths stopped talking and started kissing.

“Y/N…I’m speechless…and you…you can’t say no…” Paul wonders. Your throat feels dry.

“I don’t have a choice! I…I didn’t choose this, they just…announced it,” you mourned.

Those calls are made in plenty the following weeks. You get fitted for the wedding gown a month later. It’s a wide gown decked in lace covering your neck and shoulders with a long train that leaves lace down like a cape. Everyone says you look beautiful, but you don’t feel like it. You are constantly asked for details about the wedding. You gave boring answers. You don’t want to make it too fussy, but at least pretty. But it’s soulless, you feel like.

The day comes sooner, so Paul suggests something…a trip.

You don’t know how, but you managed to get away. You had a few trusted friends who covered for you

The prince of Cordonia isn’t like Paul at all. He is stiff and dull. Not abusive, you don’t think, but that could change.

Paul is super ambitious and works to get the secret trip right.

Right as you get on the plane, making sure it is private and paying guards and the pilot extra, you look at Paul.

“We could…pretend…”

“Pretend what?”

“Pretend we’re married. That we’re going to be at our honeymoon…I don’t know if we’ll get a chance to later…”

Smiling, you begin to drum your fingers on the tan plush arm of your seat.

“How in god’s name did a damn Beatle escape from the press?” you asked. The plane whirred as it soared over the air.

Paul sighs, taking a sip of water from a plastic cup. 

“A lot of help, that’s what. Didn’t you get your friends in? Well, I got friends too,” he answered with a wink that always flipped your stomach.

“Where are you even going?”

He smiled.

“Ibiza, Spain!”

“Spain! I’ve never been to Spain!” you cried. Running up, you give him a girlish hug and kiss his cheek.

The jet plane landed and you both made your way to a hotel. Paul donned fake facial hair and as soon as you were led to your suite, he ripped it off. Though it looked red and tears stung his eyes.

“Oo-owww!”

You began to laugh hard at his reaction before tossing yourself on the feathery bed. That first night you both indulged in a large dinner while watching the sun go down and after much evening walking, settled into your bed for the first sleep after traveling.

When you both woke up, you saw his face first. Then your eyes flitted open. The sunshine of the Spanish morning poured in from over his head. He looked even more angelic.

“Hello husband!”

“Hello Wifey!” he said, kissing your forehead. 

Both of you cuddle up against the cold air from the AC before ordering a breakfast and spending time in your pajamas…as well as out of them. Smiling and taking in each other. Chatting about the habits of his other band members and laughing at them like normal.

They explored old towns. Spanish architecture, orange and tall, surrounded them. You bought lunch at little local restaurants, usually saving room for cold gelato served in cones dusted with cinnamon. It was touristy. It was cliche. It was perfect.

Both of you go through markets all afternoon when it’s too hot to do anything else. Thanking the heavens for shade and cheering at the sight of a working fan. One market had a tendency to be overpriced. Not that neither of you couldn’t afford it. 

Glancing over there was a young woman eyeing a necklace. Maybe a local. Her eyes were bright as she admired how the gems shone in the light and how they flattered her skin. But when she glanced at the price tag, she frowned.

Nudging, you murmur “I’ll be over there…”

You walk up to the young woman and smile.

“Hello, do you like that necklace?” you greet.

She blinks in confusion and sighs.

“Yes, I do” she says in a voice as sweet as honey. “It’s just…expensive, is all. I’ll look for another one.”

From the pocket of your pants you pull out several dollar bills and hand them to her. She is frozen looking at the numbers. It’s enough to buy at least five necklaces here.

“Not anymore…”

“Why are you doing this?” she asks.

“Let’s say…I have more than enough. Least I can do.” You answer.

Walking back, you see Paul’s eyes grow wide and then he smiles. He wraps a hand around yours as you walk out. Glancing back, you can see the girl is slack jawed. Then she went and bought the becklace with a smile as big as her face.

As soon as he got home, with only a few packages of things, Paul flung himself on the bed.

“Ooof! I’m bloody exhausted!”

You lean over, smiling. His face has gotten a little red from the sun. Your hands creep over to his shoulders.

“Let me massage you sweetheart…I don’t want my… my husband to be in pain,” you insisted.

Paul grinned larger at the use of the word.

For the rest of the night, you went over piles of photographs Paul managed to take. His love of the camera made him keep it as close as if it was his baby. You both managed to find local places and take pictures. The cheesiest pictures one could manage. Smiling faces, wide arms, and mountains and beaches and buildings too beautiful to be real.

“I’d like to keep a few…” you say.

Paul looks up at you.

“Is that…is that possible, Y/N? They look through your things, y’know…” he warned.

You shrugged, looking at one picture you took of Paul smiling, squinting into the sunlight with a castle from long ago far behind him, poking out of the green hill. Then another one where you managed to travel out and visit another real palace with elaborate floors outside and pigeons flying by.

“I can manage. I have…have places in my home only I can enter. Royalty, y’know…”

Looking back, only your closest friends were in on this. Friends you knew would not tattle. Friends who could influence any nosy servants.

He leaned over on the bed, in a white shirt and long pajama pants. Placing a hand, he traced a strand of hair.

“You might be their duchess, but you’re me girl. Always.”

The next morning, both of you were napping, naked, and smiling in post-coital bliss. Unaware that it was already noon. And there was a newspaper with your brunch.

As you groaned, opening your eyes, you heard Paul nearly spit out his tea from the tray.

“Oof, too hot for you?” you teased.

He looked at you and turned the page.

There was a small, minor article. It shouldn’t have caused much attention. But it was about your parents. It mentioned them addressing rumors that you were running away with another man and may have been spotted in Spain- or someone who looked like you. They couldn’t tell who the man was, but it was not your betrothed.

“Oh shit.”

You toss the paper onto the sheets, looking at Paul with his face, white as the sheets.

“We’ll…we’ll just have to be careful…” you suggest. Leaning forward, you cup his face and he nods.

You both had to be too careful. You went to beach. The sun was bright and you tasted the salt in the wind, but you had to look around you. Everytime there was a stranger, you felt their eyes on you. Both of you picked a time when there would be less people, but it felt there were now invisible cameras somewhere.

Both of you waded in the water and laid around in a towel underneath an umbrella for shade. But even in the most relaxing moments, you couldn’t help but worry if eyes were staring. Paul opened a picnic basket and handed you a bowl of strawberries, but you wondered if even a nice snack would somehow make it’s way to tabloids.

The next few days, you were more careful. Going to less crowded places. On your penultimate day, you ignored the paper. Paul was still asleep. You glanced for any news. Once you saw a photo of your parents worried faces. “We are concerned for our daughter…”

You tossed it into the trash bin. You would deal with it later. You wanted to enjoy each minute while you had it.

You kept trying to sneak into sites with less people, odder hours. If not, you were at each other like rabbits in your hotel room. Savoring intimacy and feeling one while you still could, or lazing about in your pajamas-ordering food and watching the sea. Talking about everything and nothing.

Paul opened his eyes, lashes fluttering. You couldn’t’ help but smile at him. His lashes were long, curved naturally without any mascara. How could one man be so beautiful?

“What…what is it?”

“Nothing hubby…” you said quietly, kissing his forehead. “Let’s just…let’s just enjoy the day.”

Spain had the loveliest sunsets. You watched from your hotel and then walked at night. The stars were out and the ocean was calming. Both of you felt a breeze. Paul handed you his jacket. Even in the dark, you could make out quiet sniffling. Clutching his hand, you turned to the ocean to look up at it’s infinity underneath a night sky. You never let his hand go the rest of that night. You wanted this pretense to last long as it could until you could no more, when the plane landed and you were back home at the palace with photos of Spain snuck into the bottom of your suitcases. 

 Besides, there was a wedding next week. 

Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​

[lilyandersonn]

All Too Well // D.W

Chapter One // Series Masterlist here

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Bailey Walker (OFC)

Series summary: (Supernatural AU) Bailey Walker has spent the last year picking up the pieces of her failed relationship. Just when she thinks she is almost whole again, the rug is pulled from underneath her yet again. Her life is a mess, she's a mess, and yet throughout it all, she finds herself growing close to somebody she's spent eight years pushing away. Bailey can feel Dean worming his way back into her life and consequently her heart, but she's been burned before, can she find it in herself to trust him again?

Chapter warnings: maybe a little angst?

Words: 2949

AN: This is an AU. Pretty much everybody is alive and just living their best apple pie lives. Hunting isn’t a thing, they’re all just normal people. I don’t have a beta reader, so I do apologise for any mistakes that I didn’t pick up on when editing :)

Chapter One

“Jess, can you please stop that?”

The infuriating sound of paper flapping, which had Bailey’s clenching her hands so tightly that her fingernails were leaving crescent shaped indentations on her palm, immediately ceased. The pain was only a minor inconvenience in comparison to the unbearable, choking humidity that had turned her tiny apartment into a temporary sauna.

“I can’t help it,” Jess said with a whine, unable to resist the temptation of fanning herself and picking the newspaper back up, “maybe if you fixed your AC, I wouldn’t have to.”

Bailey, in a fit of pure frustration, pulled her sweat soaked shirt over her head in a futile attempt at cooling herself down. The heat plaguing her apartment had Bailey willing to do just about anything to escape it, and that didn’t exclude stripping off in-front of her best friend.

“I already told you, my AC doesn’t need fixing.” Bailey quipped, the sticky heat making her more irritable than usual as she dragged herself into the kitchen in search of something, anything, that would cool her down.

Unfazed at her best friend’s state of undress, Jess rolled her eyes at Bailey’s ongoing determination that her AC was in fact not broken; even though it had all the effect of an old asthmatic man standing in the corner breathing on them. It was beyond her that somebody who hated the heat so vehemently, would be so opposed to the idea of fixing the one thing that would cool her apartment down.

“You could just ask Dean—”

Bailey, who had found a bottle of water shoved at the very back of the fridge and had been just about to down it, whipped around so fast that she was worried she may get whiplash.

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” Jess said exasperatedly, hands on her hips, “he isn’t that bad. And he’ll probably do it for free.”

“Yes, Jess, he is that bad. I’d rather pay somebody than have that man in my apartment.”

Jess grinned, “Ah, so you admit you need somebody to fix it.”

Scowling in her best friend’s direction, Bailey opened the bottle and chugged half of the icy cold liquid in one go, instead of coming up with a sarcastic retort like she wanted to.

“So, I need to tell you something,” Jess said slowly, hesitating as she watched in amusement whilst Bailey chugged the water and simultaneously shimmied her sweaty denim shorts down her legs, “Bails, if you were gonna strip for me, you could have at least worn matching underwear.”

If it were anybody else, that comment would have her cheeks burning read and stuttering. But Jess had seen Bailey in much worse states, and vice versa, to the point where they would have to do something really scandalous for either of them to bat an eyelid.

“You would be lucky to have me strip for you, Hello Kitty briefs and all."

Choosing to put an end to the exchange, Jess cleared her throat and continued with what she had been waiting – no, dreading – to say, “So, there’s no easy way to say this and I’m just going to come right out and say it. Sam invited Chris to the wedding, and well, he’s RSVP’d.”

The revelation came with a grimace, as though she’d just ignited an explosive and was waiting for the big show.

“And?” Bailey asked, as though waiting for another part to the story.

Jess raised an eyebrow, perplexed by her seemingly blasé attitude towards the news. "And you're okay with that?"

Bailey faltered at that; she knew in her mind she wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been okay in a very long time, but it had always been so easy to pretend otherwise when everybody around her were so terrified of even mentioning her ex-boyfriend’s name.

Almost a year had passed since their three-year relationship had come to an end, but Bailey was still stuck in the same cycle of going to work, faking wholesome smiles and conversation with customers, pretending that she didn’t feel like her whole life was crumbling around her, and then coming home to an empty apartment to mourn a life she almost had.

One day Bailey would look back and feel nothing but embarrassed at the thought of all the time she’d spent grieving a relationship that was long since over. But that day didn’t seem to be on the near horizon.

Forcing her lips to curve up into something that resembled more of a grimace than a smile, Bailey finally spoke, “Yeah, I’m okay with it. It’s just one day, and besides, it’s your guys’ day, not mine. You deserve to have whoever you want there.”

In the back of her mind, Bailey knew she couldn’t have expected Sam not to invite Chris. They’d been best friends at one point, maybe not so much anymore but they were still friends, and so it was no shock that he would be invited.

Despite noticing the way Bailey’s hazel eyes looked slightly glassy and the hesitation before she responded, Jess chose not to push the subject. She’d witnessed first-hand what she had gone through when Chris left, and for her best friend’s sake, she didn’t want to cause the kind of breakdowns that she’d spent six months coaxing Bailey out of.

Jess had spent far too many hours watching Bailey sob, barely able to breathe through the tears because of what Chris had done to her, and she refused to be the person who brought those memories back up.

“Hey, how about you put on some new clothes and we go get a beer at the Roadhouse?”

And with that, normalcy was injected back into the room.

***

“There’s my girls.”

Bailey and Jess were both grinning from ear to ear as they approached the bar, squeezing their way through the people crowded around the pool table, where Ellen was already preparing their drinks. A bottle of beer and a tequila shot each were waiting for them when they finally made it to their favourite bartender.

Without hesitation, Bailey down the gold liquid, barely flinching as it burned its way down her throat. The concerned look Jess shot her didn’t go unnoticed as they both took their seats, but she chose to ignore it in favour of greeting Ellen.

“Bad day?” Ellen asked, watching with a glint in her eye as Bailey chugged half of her beer in one go.

Heaving out a heavy sigh as she placed the bottle back down onto the bar, “You could say that,” she said, letting her eyes glance around the room, grinning as she spotted Jo at the pool table, clearly beating her flustered looking opponent.

Although there was a three-year age gap between them, Bailey and Jo had always been close friends, all but growing up together. Circumstance had brought them together, their parents were all good friends and Bailey had been coming to the Roadhouse for as long as she could remember, but their friendship had stood the test of time.

And then came along Jess, who just slid so easily in with them, that it felt like they’d all always been friends.

Catching her eye, Bailey sent a wink to Jo, who shot one straight back at her, before focusing back up on her game.

“Is Sam swinging by, too?” Ellen casually asked Jess, as she absentmindedly wiped at the bar with a rag.

“Probably,” Jess said, taking a sip of her beer, “if Dean has anything to say about it.”

Bailey couldn’t help the involuntary eye roll that came from the mention of Dean. It was an understatement to say that she wasn’t his biggest fan, but the words that she had to describe her feelings towards him were very unsavoury.

Along with Jo, Bailey had grown up with Sam. Dean being four years older than them, she never really saw him as anything other than an annoying older brother, who enjoyed teasing the hell out of all three of them whenever he got the chance.

But that had all changed during the summer after she and Sam had graduated high school. Something shifted between Bailey and Dean – Dean no longer seeing her as just his brother’s irritating best friend, and Bailey spurred on by raging teenage hormones. Neither of them had seen the mutual attraction coming, but there was nothing stopping it.

They fell into what could be best described as a summer fling, because by the time September came and Bailey was off to college, it all came crumbling down. By then, she had developed some real feelings for him – beyond just wanting to jump his bones every time he walked through the door – but in classic Dean fashion, ever afraid of making genuine connections with women, he blew her off with a text message. And that was that.

Eight years later, Bailey still held a grudge on the older Winchester.

“Speak of the devils.”

Draining the last of her bottle, Bailey couldn’t help the eyebrows that pinched into a frown as she turned to see the two brothers walking through the front door, laughing loudly at something. Sam was still dressed in his office suit, but Dean had changed out of his usual work navy overalls, into a pair of blue jeans and a red flannel shirt.

He looked good.

Bailey immediately mentally cursed herself as soon as the thought entered her head. It frustrated her to no end that even though all she felt for the older brother was revulsion, she couldn’t deny the glaringly obvious fact – Dean Winchester was a sight to behold.

Whilst Jess got up to greet her fiancé, Bailey turned back to the bar and ordered another beer and a few more shots of tequila. She would need them if she were going to get through an evening with him.

As Ellen placed the shots of tequila onto the bar, a hand reached over from behind Bailey and took one. She didn’t need to look to know who it was – there was only one person on the planet who would have the nerve.

“For me? You shouldn’t have, sweetheart.”

“You’re an ass.” Bailey said, though lacking in her usual conviction, too fed up to entertain the little feud they had going. She took another shot without looking at him, hoping he would take the hint to leave her alone

Much to her chagrin, Dean sat down next to her, signature smirk as he looked over at her, before turning his attention to Ellen.

“Two beers and a whiskey, please.”

“Coming up, doll.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but whatever inevitably provoking words he was going to say died on his tongue as Sam and Jess finally joined them; Sam hugging Bailey from behind, swiftly pressing a kiss to her temple, a quiet sorry whispered into her auburn hair before pulling away.

Bailey sent him a look that said he had nothing to be sorry for, but she knew that no matter what she said or did, Sam was going to feel guilty for inviting Chris. It did make her think why invite him if he felt so bad about it, but she had no urge to question it.

The three of them began chattering around Bailey, but she wasn’t listening. She could barely focus on the sound of the Led Zeppelin song blaring through the stereo, let alone whatever her friends and Dean were talking about.

Although she’d put on a brave face, the mention of Chris earlier had really floored her. It had been a year since he walked out of her life, eyes set on bigger and better things – things Bailey apparently couldn’t offer him – and yet one mention of his name and she felt like she was back to square one.

It occurred to her on many occasions that Chris was as good as it got for her. Although not her first love, the infuriating lady-killer knocking whiskey back beside her frustratingly held that title, she really thought that he was going to be it. She saw a life with him, a good life, that she couldn’t picture ever having with anybody else.

So, was that it? Was she destined to a life of loneliness and forever picking up the pieces of a life she never got to have? Those kinds of questions often kept Bailey awake at night – more often than she’d care to admit.

Her uncharacteristically quietness didn’t go undetected by any of them – even Dean was eyeing her with an expression that could be described as mild concern. Normally she’d be at the centre of the conversation, cracking jokes, ribbing on Sam for wearing his monkey suit at the bar.

“Hey, Bails, up for a game of pool?” Sam asked, pulling her out of whatever daydream she had been caught up in.

Almost as though she was suddenly remembering where she was, Bailey blinked a few times before turning to him with a mischievous smile, “Only if you’re looking to get your ass kicked.”

The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and there wasn’t the usual skip in her step as she and Sam walked over to the vacant pool table – Jo now helping her mother behind the bar as the usual Friday evening crowd began filling up the building.

“Bails,” Sam started once they reached the table, away from prying ears, “you know I didn’t want to upset you, right?”

Picking up her pool cue and starting to chalk the end of it, she nodded, trying to look as unfazed as possible. When Sam had asked her for a game, she knew he just wanted to get her away from the other two so that he could say his piece.

“I’m not upset, Sam,” she said with a sigh, “you have every right to invite whoever you want to your wedding, okay? Please, can we just leave it there for now?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.”

“So, you ready to get your ass kicked?” Bailey taunted with a grin, the tension immediately dissipating into nothing.

“Bring it.”

Ten short minutes later, Bailey had her cue above her head, yelling out in triumph at her win. Sam, though shaking his head at her less than subtle display of victory, grinned along with her. He was simply happy that she was acting more like herself, but for how long he didn’t know.

“Another?” she asked, setting the balls back into the rack in the middle of the table.

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Sure, you set up, I’ll go get us another drink.”

By now, Bailey was feeling buzzed, the two beers and however many shots of tequila had started to kick in. She could handle her alcohol reasonably well and it would take a lot more for her to be truly drunk, but she was getting that warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach and she swayed slightly as she walked around the table.

Maybe it wasn’t the best way to cope, but the numbing effects of alcohol seemed to be working well to take her mind away from Chris.

A somewhat pleasant mood had begun to settle over Bailey, and only improved throughout the night. Being around her friends – Jess, Sam, Jo, even Charlie had made an appearance – was all the therapy she needed.

She had beaten Sam at another few games of pool before they decided to call it quits, settling instead in their usual booth at the far corner of the bar, away from the noisy patrons. The rest of their friends had slowly joined them, bringing over more drinks that only served to get Bailey increasingly buzzed.

Bailey and Charlie were clinking their shot glasses together, before knocking them back, when Dean approached the table. Before that, he’d been chatting up a pretty little blonde at the bar – as per usual, searching for somebody to take home. It wasn’t a night at the Roadhouse if Dean didn’t leave with a girl hanging off his arm.

But there he was, squeezing himself into the booth, directly next to a disgruntled looking Bailey.

“Luck out?” she asked, eyebrows pinching together when he slings his arm across the seat behind her. He was too close for comfort, his jean covered thigh pressing up against her bare leg.

He shrugged, taking a long pull of his beer. “She has a boyfriend.”

“I’m surprised that stopped you.”

“I do have morals, sweetheart.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Not taken aback in the slightest by her comment, Dean grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement – unlike Bailey, he enjoyed their banter. “You say the sweetest things to me.”

Choosing to ignore the green-eyed man next to her, Bailey tuned back into the conversation. Charlie, Jo, and Jess were chatting about the bachelorette party planned for the following weekend, whilst Sam was completely zoned out, scrolling on his phone.

“Are we still starting at Bailey’s?” Charlie asked, looking over at the girl in question.

“Only if she gets her AC fixed.” Jess replied, grinning smugly over at her.

“I am not having this conversation again, Jessica.”

Dean, who had surprisingly been listening to the conversation, piped in. “I could take a look at it for you.”

Grinding her teeth and clenching her fists, Bailey knew she had been cornered. There was no reasonable excuse to say no to Dean, who was so generously offering his services in front of everybody. Looking over at Jess, who was still wearing the smug grin, she knew her best friend had planned this.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense,” Dean said, starting to catch onto Bailey’s hesitation, “I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon and take a look.”

“Great.”

[captainbetonit]

Room for more(chapter four)

~.~ 

They had stopped for lunch at a place Zane was sure they’d like, Skylor’s noodles. 

Skylor was their long time friend, who also was married to their friend/Social worker Pixel but hey, who was counting? 

Parking in front of the restaurant Zane knew he’d make the right choice. Down to the fact that Nya was trying to undo her car seat.

“I see you like this place.” Zane laughed as he unlocked the doors. The moment he opened the door Kai ran out with Nya in his arms, a good thing he had kept the child locks on. 

“Momma and Pappa used to take us all the time!” Nya exclaims as Zane picks her up and has Kai hold his hand. 

“Did they now?” Zane asks as they walk through the parking lot and inside the building. Once inside Kai tried to run again, but Zane wouldn’t let him. 

The family was seated at a booth and were given menus within five minutes. Zane had been there many times, he knew Cole came here sometimes for his lunch break, but this was the first time he’d bring his children. Temporary children? No that makes it sound like they weren’t people. 

“Hey there Zane, great to see you again.” The waiter grabbed at Zane’s attention, he realized he was spacing out. 

“Oh hey Griffin,I forgot you worked here.” Zane smiled politely and turned to his friend. 

Griffin shrugged and fixed his red tinted sunglasses, “It’s mostly part time now, might change to full time till fall.” 

“Really? Would Skylor let you do that?” Zane asks as he sets the menu down in front of him. 

“She gets what I need to do, that and i’ve been here since she got the place.” Griffin smirked before he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Anyways, the usual right?” 

“Kai, Nya? Are you ready?” If his friend didn’t notice the two little kids when he came over he definitely did now. 

It was unusual for the fast man to be silent, but he remained like that as the little girl pointed to what she wanted while her brother(?) muttered it. 

“Griffin?” Zane asks, as the man was in a way shocked out of his stupor. 

“Yes, uh yeah i got it don’t worry.” He wrote down the order before pocketing his pad and pen, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Griffin quickly left, most likely to tell his boss/friends in the back.(He’d forget the drinks till last minute.) 

“Who was that guy?” Kai asks, watching the man practically run to the back. 

“He’s a friend of ours, he’s nice once you get to know him.” Zane stated as he spotted Skylor a table away talking to someone. 

“Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors?” Nya asks, scribbling away on the kids menu. 

“We don’t know, he’s like that.” Zane explained, taking out some wet wipes from some of the little dishes placed in the middle of the table. “Wipe your hands please.” He handed one to Kai and another to Nya. 

“Well if it isn’t one half of a whole mess!” Skylor exclaims as she slaps him on the shoulder. 

“I could say the same for you.” Zane deadpans as Skylor unceremoniously drops herself across from him. 

“Don’t be like that, you love me.” She grins before her attention is caught by Kai and Nya, both of whom were staring at her with wide eyes. “Who are these little ones?” 

“Skylor this is Kai and Nya.” Zane says confidently, it was the first real time he could call them his kids, right? “Cole and I are fostering them, kids this is Skylor.” 

Skylor, who looked smitten the moment she laid eyes on the two, gave a motherly smile and waved. “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.” 

Suddenly Nya brightens up, stars in her eyes, “You're the lady from the picture!” she exclaimed. 

“Mrs.Borg is your wife!” Kai chimed in, looking pleased that he remembered. 

Skylor was shocked for all of two seconds before she started laughing. “I haven’t met them and they already know me!” She threw her head back as she cackled. 

“Well we do have quite a few photos from your wedding Skylor.” Zane chuckled as his friend started to calm down. 

“Did you guys order already? Where are your drinks?” Skylor had finally calmed down and took a moment to look at their table, there were no plates or glasses, just some unopened chopsticks alongside some forks and spoons. 

“Griffin came by, he looked spaced out however.” Zane said as Kai and Nya started to whisper to each other. 

“Yeah, he gets like that around winter.” Skylor leaned back into her seat, she started thinking about it. “I think it’s because its almost winter, after that he can’t really function.” 

“How come?” Kai asks as Nya leans on him. 

“He always has to move,you know? He’s like a shark with bad sunglasses.” Skylor explains, giving Zane a look at the last part. 

“Hey dude, sorry for the wait.” Griffin finally came back, a tray expertly balanced in his hand. 

“Griffin, we aren’t even packed. Why did it take so long?” It was like Skylor did a complete 180, giving her employee an icy glare. 

“Sorry Skylor, one of the waitresses needed me.” Griffin handed the family their drinks, “It wasn’t that long though.” 

“It’s long when there’s nobody here, Turner.” Skylor stood, and while she didn’t tower over him she was intimidating and angry. 

“I-it won’t happen again, i’m sorry Skylor.” Griffin held the tray close to him, scared that he could lose this job.

In response Skylor’s demeanor changed like she wasn’t mad in the first place. “I’m kidding Griffin. Don’t worry about it.” 

Giffin, somewhat relieved, started laughing as well. “Wait really?” 

“Of course, hey did you meet Zane’s kids?” Skylor took the tray from Griffin and sat him next to her. 

The two looked at Griffin, Nya with wide eyes while Kai glared at him. “Hey little dudes, i bet these two talked about me?” He leaned forward and gave a charming pose. 

“Fast and distracted.” The two stated in unison and nodding. 

Two of the adults gave an unflattering snort of a laugh as Griffin’s face fell. “Wow, i haven’t met them and already i’ve been tarnished.” 

“Serves you right,” Skylor muttered, as she stole some of Zane’s water. “Remember when we met Karlof’s niece? You said i was a witch who bribed people with noodles.” 

“I was joking, you’re not a noodle witch.” Griffin smiled, “More like a demon.” 

“I will hit you.” Skylor whacked the back of his head, causing his red tinted glasses to fall. 

The glasses landed in front of Kai, who looked intrigued by them. “Why do you wear these indoors?” He asks, picking them up. 

“That’s a good question, and in all honesty I don’t know.” Griffin laughed as he took them back. “I wore them a lot in college and I never stopped.” 

“So you're trying to relive the glory days?” Nya asks sweetly, now holding her cup with two hands. 

Griffin let his glasses clatter as Skylor cackled and Zane shook with silent laughter. 

“N-Nya, sweetie.” Zane took a deep breath, “Nya you can’t just say things like that.” 

“Why?” She asks, placing her cup down. 

“Because Griffin still thinks he’s young.” Skylor stated as her friend gave a squawk of indignes. 

“Excuse you, i am young.” He stated as his friends rolled their eyes. “What, i am!” 

“Griffin you have back pain.” Skylor deadpanned, “You’re 28.” 

“Well he does carry his whole team on his back.” Zane remarked, only somewhat sarcastically. 

As the adults talked and Nya listened with attention, Kai grew very bored. He was hungry, and Griffin only brought their drinks. 

Could he say something though? It was nice of Zane to bring them to the noodle house, but he was talking to his friends. He shouldn’t be bothered. 

Zane noticed something was up with Kai however, the way he kept looking near the kitchen, how he looked like he wanted to say something. 

Realization hit the man, that’s the whole reason they came here was for lunch. 

“Hey Griffin,” Zane interrupted his friend's story, “When can we get our food?” 

Skylor gave Griffin a glare as he tensed up. “We’ve been here for ten minutes and you didn’t bring their food? Really?” 

“Oh, that’s what I forgot.” Griffin hissed, before standing and grabbing his tray. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be back in a second with your food.” He quickly left to the back. 

Skylor sighed, “I’m sorry about the wait guys, I’ll let you get to your meal.” 

When she left Griffin came back, balancing a tray filled with hot food. “Alright, here is your order and call me if you need anything.” He set the meals in front of their respective person and left to tend to some other paterons. 

As the family dug into their meal Kai had a thought tugging the back of his mind. Zane only said that because he was hungry, right? Most adults do stuff like that because they need it, right? 

“Kai? Are you ok?” Zane’s voice jolted Kai out of his thoughts. 

He looked up at his foster father, at the genuine concern that stared back. 

“I’m fine.” He grumbles, it was a trick. No one really cared, not about him anyways. 

“Kai, look at me please.” Zane had put down his utensils and turned his body to face the boy. 

Begrudgingly Kai faces him, it didn’t matter. 

“What?” 

Zane placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder, “Kai, can you please tell me what’s wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong.” 

“Something’s bothering you, and you can tell me.” He gave the boy such a genuine smile that it couldn’t have been anything but true. 

However the boy stayed silent, it was such a bad place to say anything; mostly because the restaurant started to fill with people. 

Zane must have had the same thought, and sighed. “We can talk about this when you're ready, take you time.” 

He stayed silent for another minute, “Can we talk about at home maybe?” 

Giving a small smile Zane nodded, “Of course we can.” And they went back to their meal. 

Zane didn’t ask for himself, he asked because he saw Kai. Zane wasn’t like the other adults, maybe that’s a good thing. 

[mor-rigan]

An Alliance of Fire and Night

Its here! My ToG/ACoTaR crossover fan fiction!

I’m so excited to finally be able to start putting this story out and having people read it. I’m hoping for it to be a longer fic, so stay tuned! As for updates, I’m going to try to get new chapters up every week, if not sooner. I don’t live on Tumblr, so please have patience. Sometimes it will be longer than a week before I update. Thank you all for your understanding, and happy reading!

Tags: @viajandosinalas @dagypsygirl @aelin-godkiller @bookworm-lovemarvel @starrynightren @throne--of-sass @princess-of-eyllwe @shyvioletcat @badwolf084 @blades-are-for-skating-ya-dingus @smartass-mee @sassysaltysarcasticstupid @maadsrevolution @resignedcatservant @admantum (I’m sorry if I missed anyone else that wanted to be tagged!)

Chapter One

~ Aelin ~

Aelin Galathynius sat with her eyes closed in the gardens of her castle; her face was upturned to the rain. It ran down her forehead to pool in the corner of her eyes, then fall down her cheeks like tears. The queen was not sad, however, and when she got sick of the droplets, she would lift the water from her face with that kernel of water magic and flick it away.

It was a joyous day despite all that was going on and all she had to do. It was her and Rowan’s sixtieth wedding anniversary, and also the day they celebrated winning the war against Erawan and Maeve. It hadn’t been an easy road, and many rules were broken. Elena had defied those self-proclaimed gods all those years ago, so she had as well.

But that was a thought for later. Her mate was away hunting with the rest of the cadre while Lysandra planned the festivities. The rain had been unexpected but manageable. The ballroom in the Palace of Orynth was more than accommodating for the guests that would arrive, and Manon would arrive with her witchlings soon.

Not witchlings anymore, Aelin reminded herself. The Crochan and Crown Princesses of Adarlan, Asterin and Rhiannon, were approaching fifty years old. Gods, Aelin couldn’t believe she was almost eighty herself. Perhaps immortality would never fully sit right with her. Especially since she’s seen so many comrades - no, family - die over the years. Sam, Nehemia, Elide, Lorcan, Chaol, Yrene, Dorian, and so many more that worked to help her in the war.

Part of Aelin always hoped that her little group would live forever, but not everyone is blessed with immortality. Elide may have had witch blood in her veins, but it wasn’t enough to make her Settle. Lorcan had tied his life to hers, and they both passed from old age in the same year, four summers ago. Elide passed first, and Aelin truly believed that Lorcan died of a broken heart. The idea originally made her laugh, considering how cold the bastard once was.

Chaol and Yrene were only mortal. Yrene was the best healer both Adarlan and Terrasen had ever seen after Mab; and Lydia - Chaol and Yrene’s daughter - was doing her mother proud by carrying on her legacy. She even taught her son his grandmother’s magics. Chaol was a tough son of a bitch, Aelin knew for sure, and one of the best friends she ever had despite their rocky history. They both died peacefully in their sleep, slipping into the afterlife together because of their bond. Something, Aelin realized sometime later, she was grateful for. There was a time when she didn’t think any of them – regardless if they were fae or human – would see old age.

Dorian had been one of the hardest to come to terms with. Aelin had thought for sure he would Settle since he was Mala’s scion just as much as she was. But as time went on, there were no tell-tale signs of Settling, and his hair began to turn gray. Manon had become with child when Dorian was thirty, and he was able to give his daughters a full life before he passed just last year. Aelin teared up just remembering the last time she had seen him – so frail and delicate in old age despite still having the spark of the friend she always knew. He had been a good King of Adarlan and rebuilt his country’s legacy after his father destroyed it. When he finally passed from difficulties of illness, it had been a difficult time for everyone, but Manon took it the hardest.

The Crochan Queen went into recession, and only brief letters from her daughters gave peace of mind that the White Witch was alright. This celebration would be the first time since Dorian’s death that Aelin would talk to Manon or the witchlings in person. And she was honestly anticipating it. She admitted to herself often that she missed her ally and friend.

A sigh heaved Aelin’s shoulders at the same moment a pine-and-snow-scented breeze disturbed the rain. It was a different scent from Terrasen’s; something alive tethered it to her mate, as true as an actual rope. Aelin could follow that smell for miles and know Rowan would be waiting for her at the end of it.

The breeze seemed to say, Why are you sad, Fireheart?

Aelin tried to shake her mood off and changing the subject by sending a wave of heat dancing with sparks along that invisible rope in answer. I must truly be irresistible if you’re thinking of me even when hunting beings from the Rift.

You’re always on my mind, milady. That answering breeze had more of an icy bite to it, but Aelin blushed as she remembered the truly depraved things they did last night. They never needed an occasion to fuck each other until the early hours of morning, but there was something different when their anniversary came. Like a deep instinct that beckoned their bodies together.

I’m sure, Aelin sent back with flame instead of sparks, I’m surprised you can even walk.

Aelin could practically hear Rowan’s chuckle on the wind, as if he carried it directly to her. I should be saying that to you.

Indeed, Aelin closed her legs tighter together, and the hickeys on the inside of her thighs slightly throbbed. They were healing, but still prominent. They had been sore enough this morning that she opted to wear a flowing gown instead of a tunic and pants. Damn her king. Her wonderful lover of a mate.

Unable to help herself, she sent a bone-warming stream along the rope. A gentle, suggestive caress. Perhaps we can fit in a round two before the party tonight.

Oh no, my queen, Rowan replied instantly, With the things I want to do to you, I’ll need much longer than an hour. The wind he sent with that particular comment had her breasts tightening.

Fine, King, Aelin said back, that mated tether singing with heat and ice, I’ll be waiting here planning the party with Lysandra and the others. And though she was known for her sass and snark, after a heartbeat, the Heir of Fire sent another soothing flame down the bond. Be safe and return to me in one piece.

Always, Fireheart. Then the bond went silent.

It was likely almost noon, so the queen figured she should at least check on the progress of things. Hesitantly, Aelin rose from her spot and peered over her kingdom. Finally healing, it seemed, and the Kingsflame was still in full bloom even after all this time – showing the safety and prosperity her rule promised. It warmed her heart, and she could only hope that her uncle and her parents were proud of all that she had accomplished. She felt proud of herself, at least, given everything she had been through and everything she had sacrificed to get here.

Finally pulling herself from her thoughts, the queen made her way to the ballroom. As she traversed the palace, noises from the planning became louder. The union of their King and Queen was something all of Orynth celebrated. The night was celebrated as a liberation from darkness and a promise for a brighter future. It has already become a tradition that carried through a generation. Initially, people had even tried to bring gifts, but Aelin refused them after so long. She was grateful, but she wanted her people to care for themselves before her. Merciful and caring, but a leader, nonetheless.

Aelin finally reached the ballroom where most of the planning and decorating was occurring. She couldn’t spot Lysandra, but she knew the shifter was in here.

“Your Majesty!” A familiar voice called. Aelin’s head snapped to see a small, plump woman waving her hand at her. She couldn’t help but smile and stifle a giggle.

“Hi Loralei,” Aelin greeted through as the woman approached, “Did you need help with anything?” The queen honestly hated talking so formally, but she felt it odd to speak otherwise outside of her inner circle of family. Even though this woman may as well be her best friend with how many escapades she’s made to the kitchen for a late-night snack when Rowan was fast asleep. Though, she’d never tell Lysandra that.

“Not so much help as a confirmation,” Loralei said, “I pride myself in knowing your favorite foods at this point, but I just thought I would make sure.” The cook listed off the menu for the night, which only made Aelin’s near empty stomach gurgle. Gods, she was starving and hadn’t realized. Loralei could probably tell and beckoned for the queen lower.

Aelin stooped enough for the woman to whisper in her ear: “There’s leftover cinnamon bread in the kitchen. I’m sure no one would notice if you slipped a piece over the fire with some butter.” Aelin stood and received a wink from the cook, which made her smile. She could kiss this woman. Woman – a funny word to describe the girl Aelin had seen grow up from the time she was born, to then take her father’s place as the palace’s head cook.

“Thank you,” Aelin replied at last, “Everything sounds great. Just tell Rowan and the rest of those vultures that the hazelnut cake is reserved for the ladies.” They both shared a friendly laugh, then the cook was off to start and finish her duties. Aelin was off to find Lysandra.

* * *

~ Feyre ~

“Is there any news?”

The Inner Circle gathered in the House of Wind. Strange portals had started opening around Prythian, letting beasts as foul as the Attor back into the land. It wasn’t anything Rhys or the Inner Circle or even I couldn’t handle, but it was concerning. Cauldron knows what else may come out.

“None,” Amren said as she studied all of our faces, “From any of the other High Lords anyway. The rifts aren’t becoming more frequent, but they aren’t slowing down either. As for the Shadowsinger – he, Nesta, and the other Heir of Night are still dealing with a rift that was sighted near Illyria.”

The news wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. I didn’t particularly like that Demetra was with them, but she was sixty years old this year – long since becoming a woman. As for the portals…Manageable. It was manageable for now. I just had to remind myself of that.

“Have you consulted the Book?” Rhys asked without missing a beat. Amren’s sharp eyes snapped to him. They were a dull gray color now, but her years alone held the power she needed to make anyone cower.

“I read that book cover to cover eighty years ago. Anything I can get out of it, I did when we fought Hybern.”

“That means there’s more,” Leirus spoke, “You read everything you could, which implies there is something you couldn’t.” Everyone’s attention was on him, but he did not balk – even from Amren. Something I’m sure he learned from his father, though he was probably just as nervous as the rest of us.

“Yes, Heir, there is more,” Amren admitted as she crossed her arms, “The rest of the text is in a language even older than me.”

Older than Amren – the only person we had that could remotely understand any ancient or otherworldly texts we encountered.

“There has to be someone,” I chimed in, “A historian, a librarian, someone who has the ability to read it.”

“Perhaps in the Prison, or maybe even Bryaxis, but none have interacted with him since the War,” Rhys said, and it went quiet for a moment. It was left unsaid, but I know at least Rhys thought of the Bone Carver or the Weaver – Stryga as she was named. But they were truly lost in the War. Bryaxis had merely taken an extended vacation it seemed.

“What if Bryaxis is the cause of the portals?” Leirus suggested. Cassian seemed to consider it for a moment but stayed silent.

“It’s possible, but the portals are appearing all over Prythian,” Rhys pointed to the blots of dark ink on a map where we had marked portal sightings, “If it were him – or one person – I would think that they would appear in a consistent location.”

“Unless he – or whoever – is doing this isn’t trying to open a portal to their home world, like we thought, but to bring something to us.” By the Mother, I saw so much of Rhys in our son. Not only from his appearance, but from the way he talked and took lead in trying times. It made me proud as his mother, but I worried all the same.

The Inner Circle contemplated his suggestion with true possibility. He did have a point, but –

“Who would do that?” Mor asked what we were all thinking. And none of us knew. Unless a Hybern sympathizer was trying to spark a resurgence, there was no one we knew of who would ruin this time of peace.

Before more discussion could be had, the doors opened. Azriel, along with Nesta and Demetra, walked in. Their gates were tense – as one would be after a battle – but not urgent.

“How did it go?” I was the one to ask. Still, Cassian said nothing.

“The same as usual,” Demetra answered, “The portal was already closed by the time we got there, but the beasts were still in the area. Our shadows were able to scout them all out, and we exterminated them.”

Manageable, I heard in my mind. I looked to Rhys and his eyes softened, and I gave him a grateful smile.

But for how long? I didn’t have to ask it – everyone was already thinking it.

“None of them can – or would – talk,” Nesta added, “When interrogated, they only growled or made other animal noises. So, I doubt they’re intelligent beyond the desire to kill.” Azriel didn’t need to speak his confirmation, we all saw it in his face.

It went quiet again. Then: “What if we went into one? A portal, I mean.”

All of us visibly recoiled as Cassian made the suggestion. “Are you an idiot?” Amren demanded, “We speak of not even being able to understand their origins, but you want to walk into one without second thoughts?”

All of us seemed to be in agreeance. It would be suicidal to go through one of the portals with no understanding of them.

“Look, I know it’s not the best idea –”

“It isn’t an idea at all,” Mor snapped.

“But,” Cassian continued after giving the blonde female a pointed look, “I’ve been thinking that the portals aren’t coming from someone in Prythian at all. Beings from other worlds have been coming to Prythian for eons. Think of the Bone Carver, Bryaxis – hell, even Amren.”

“And look at those of us you mentioned,” the Second practically growled, “We were stuck here, never to return to our worlds because we did not know a way.”

“Besides,” this time, to my surprise, it was Azriel who spoke, “Even if we knew a way back, what good would going through one of the rifts do?”

“It could take the fight to whoever is causing this.” Cassian sounded sure – almost too sure. I caught Rhys’s eyes with my own, and they mirrored my concern.

“It isn’t an option. At least right now,” Rhys said. I couldn’t help the sinking in my stomach at the words right now. Like the suicide mission could be a possibility later on. “If we could find a way to open a portal home, then it’s a possibility. But for now, we deal with what is happening here. We protect our lands and people.”

We all looked to Cassian, and he nodded his understanding, thank the Mother. I felt the whole room relax just a bit more.

“Good,” Rhys continued, “Amren, continue with the Book. Have Elain help you search the library, as well.”

“I’ll help as well,” Leirus added, earning an acknowledging nod from Rhys.

“Azriel and Demetra: stay on portal duty. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to have your shadows out scouting.” A nod from our daughter and Azriel.

“Mor, if you could act as an ambassador for us. Just go to the other courts and see if you can find out anything more from the other High Lords. Try to access any archives they may have.” Mor nodded.

“The rest of us will act as protection. Nesta, if you could go back to Illyria and watch over things there – Feyre, Cassian, and I will handle here and anywhere else on the continent that needs help.”

With all of our duties assigned, the Inner Circle dispersed, leaving Rhys and I alone in the room. “Everyone seemed so quiet and grim. I don’t like it,” I admitted as I brought my arms around myself. I never like seeing my family so serious, especially Mor and Cassian. And for Cassian to suggest such a ludicrous idea…

“They’re all just tense, darling,” Rhys said. I felt a caress of night in my mind, settling my reeling thoughts, “We all are. But I promise it will sort out.”

I nodded this time, something I noticed a lot of during the meeting. None of us have anything left to say, I suppose, as we all knew the general problem. The portals started appearing months ago, and the beasts that came with them wrought havoc on anything they came in contact with. They were foul and vile creatures – a darkness that was near indescribable.

“You’re still thinking too much, my love,” Rhys said softly. His hands cupped my face, and I couldn’t help but to relax with him this close to me.

“How can I not? Our Court and our family are in danger.” I thought of our children, but Rhys already knew.

“Leirus and Demetra are young in terms of Fae, yes. But they are smart and powerful, just like all of us. We will still be here for them, just as they are here for us.”

I smiled and pressed my forehead to Rhys’s. “I know.”

Rhys tilted my head up and gave me a grin that still had my heart leaping, then he pressed his lips gently to mine. To soothe, not to arouse despite myself. Cauldron damn me. And Rhys knew, too, though he pulled away.

“Feyre, darling,” he teased, “Right now? In the middle of such turmoil on the continent?” I slapped his chest mockingly. He says that as if he didn’t have me screaming only last night. A wicked grin followed by a wink told me he knew exactly what I thought about. Bastard.

“You –” I didn’t get to finish my banter before a thundering boom shook the mountain. All of Velaris, it seemed. It had Rhys and I separating immediately, and both of our clothes were replaced with Illyrian armor and steel blades.

Darkness filled the sky as a vortex formed in the clouds. The darkness was forming from the center. A rift was forming right over Velaris.

[imagine-loki]

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 36 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.     RATING: Mature   NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

Ella sat staring across the vast icy landscape of Jotunheim, thinking of the day that had been. She was startled by the fact that she missed Loki already. It had only been a few hours, but she found herself fretting for him as she did her brother, if not more. She did not worry for Thor as much, he was used to war at this stage. She never understood how her father allowed him to fight so often in such things when he was the future King of Asgard but since her father spent his youth similarly, she assumed it was due to him seeing no issue in it as he had done similar himself. She hoped whatever happened, any future for any son she could ever give Loki, she would not have to see him off to war. She did not think such would end well for her, she would fret for the entirety of the time he would be gone. For a moment, she thought of if she did not give Loki a son, such would, in its own way, be a blessing but her fate was sealed in their marriage contract, two sons, no matter what. Inhaling deeply, she got up from her seat and readied for bed, not in the mood for anything else, though she knew sleep would not come easy to her. 

The next day, she went to the throne room, noting that half the realm, or what was there and not at war seemed to be there and the tense atmosphere was palpable. Everyone wished to know what was going on but with so little time since their departure, there was no manner for Laufey to have received any form of news on the matter. 

Ella thought it peculiar to see Laufey no longer circled by his sons and Arden as he usually was, instead, he seemed almost isolated. There were guards and indeed junior advisors but it did not look the same. 

She listened for a time as Laufey spoke on matters and other agendas were dealt with but as the day came to a close, something came to her. There had been no mention of Byleistr and his mates. She knew Jotun heats lasted a significant length of time, usually five to ten days, and were incredibly exhausting for those involved in the situation but this changed a lot of things. Part of her wanted to say nothing, the other part knew she would need to say something. With the decision to say something to Laufey after the day so not to be seen to be interfering, she merely stood silently to the side. 

Her face must have shown her thoughts in some manner when Laufey noticed her because with a simple beckoning action, he had her brought forward. “Something is on your mind, Princess?” “I am merely thinking, in an animated manner it would seem, My King,” She smiled politely. 

“And what is it you are thinking?” Ella thought for a moment to fib but she was not one for lying. Loki always stated her honesty to be one of her better attributes, part of her felt she should be honest even in his absence. “If I may be so forward, My King, I am curious as to the situation with regards informing Prince Byleistr and his mates. I am aware that at present, he is not able to be reached for personal reasons but I would think with his location being closer to any attempt to breach the realm and with both of his brothers in the fray, he would wish to be informed and to get both of his mates to safety at the earliest possibility.” 

“I would think that to be an accurate assumption.” Laufey nodded solemnly for a moment, contemplating her words. “It is true that should there be an attempt to invade Jotunheim, that area of the realm is closer to their likely entry point and so too is it easier to isolate.” She nodded at his words cause Laufey to speak further on the matter. “When Asgard wars, what is the planned strategy?”

If Laufey felt she would be hesitant to answer, he did not show it, nor did Ella do such a thing. “There is a procedure in place for such things. It is neither complex or overly fancy. We know the issue is on Alfheim, so we secure any form of entry point between the realms at that point. Do not shut them entirely as often those are the areas news carriers will attempt to reach the realm and in the off chance that our forces are forced back, the innocent and the soldiers involved will wish to retreat through those gateways.” “Our men do not retreat.” One female Jotnar spat at her. 

“There was a war on Midgard, not too long ago, I think only about two decades, I cannot tell, life goes by so fast there, and there was an army, forced to retreat. They have these machines, tanks they call them, armoured with large guns, able to take most every terrain, they were pushed back to the edge of a landmass, their homeland only a short sea straight away, they retreated back to their land and regrouped, there, they were joined by others and together, they returned to the land they had retreated from before and fought the enemy once more. They were assisted, of course, by the central enemy fighting a war on multiple fronts, from the East and South as well as the West, but somethings a tactful retreat to regroup is the sanest option. Dying for no reason is not a good reason to die. I hope that should there be a manner for our men to do such themselves, they take it and we will be as successful as the Midgaridans in their war, if it, unfortunately, comes to that. I hope not but we must prepare accordingly.” She turned to face Laufey again and he nodded at her to continue. “We clear civilians from the area and we ready troops there in the offchance any of our enemies get through. You also apply a scorched earth strategy, put simply, we destroy any and all crops, water sources and anything else they can use to feed and tend to theirs if they get through. We should not do this until it is necessary and I know it sounds mad, especially now when the realm is finally starting to grow again, but one plant may feed them enough to advance even one step further. If Jotunheim needs to do this, we must ensure that those who lie behind us, whom we are the buffer for must assist us by way of soldiers and food for us if this needs to occur. This is Asgard’s own manner of practice in such events so for the Allfather to even deny considering assisting us, in the same manner, is hypocritical and it will not be stood for, so I would send a messenger to Asgard this instant to have it and Vanaheim ready supplies and men to do so if we need it.” 

Her words startled many amongst those gathered. There was a small number on Jotunheim who were incredibly sceptical of the future of the Jotunheim throne with the marriage between Loki and Ella, not during Loki’s reign as they knew that the prince was dedicated wholeheartedly to the needs of the realm but they were concerned as to after that when the child born to the couple would become King, they worried the Asgardian-loyal mother would have too much influence and force a situation of an unfit and an Asgard loyal King but her statement and her insistence that Asgard should do as they command forced them to consider that her loyalty was with her mate and his realm. 

Laufey gave an approving nod. “Very well. Godrick, do as my son’s mate states and have such a thing sent to Asgard. ” One of the junior advisors bowed and rushed off. “With regards to Byleistr, and indeed the evacuation of the areas closest our borders, that must be dealt with also. I need available guards to the different homesteads there, tell them to bring all valuables with them, anything that could help an enemy is to be brought. Starve them of any resource that could assist them. As for my son, he will need to be brought back at the earliest convenience.” One of the advisors stood forward, Ella knew he was one that was disgusted by Byleistr’s actions, not out of loyalty to Loki, but of a loyalist to tradition, and tradition did not allow for Byleistr’s actions. “But Sire, the land they are on is not overly inhabited, sending a soldier there is not going to be easy, it’s a long trek and it takes from the protection of those who need it most.” 

Others nodded in agreement. 

Ella looked around. “How far from anything is it, exactly, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“The most of the afternoon from anything else.” The advisor stated. 

Laufey studied Ella’s face, he could see her calculating to herself. “A princess cannot be expected to do such a journey alone,” he insisted. 

“I would not expect you to allow my going alone, My King.” She looked to the side and noticed Greta looking at her curiously for a moment before the Frost Giant smiled slightly. “But I will not be alone, and my going there will signify the severity of the situation.” 

She stood and silently awaiting Laufey’s response. 

Laufey considered it for a moment before speaking again. “Very well, Greta, daughter of Cillian, you go with the Princess and retrieve my son and his mates while the guards assist the people and ready as she stated.” He sat back, his silent manner of signifying he was too tired to deal with anymore. 

Ella bowed slightly and made to make her way to Greta to see when the Jotnar would be ready to leave. 

“Sire,” One Jotnar stepped forward. “Surely you do not think it a good idea to allow one so small and vulnerable into the snows, what if she is attacked.” He indicated to Ella as he spoke. “I do not think it fair to have to have another risk their lives for such a thing.”

Ella did not mean to scoff, she simply had not been ready for the absurdity of the Frost Giant’s words. When he looked at her again she shot her arms straight out, causing two large daggers to come out of thin air, startling everyone, even Laufey before she scraped the two blades off one another and bright and intense flames blazed from them, the heat of which could be felt a few metres away. 

“I am sure that should any issue befall us, Micha,” Greta began. “Her Highness is capable of protection one as small and vulnerable as me.”