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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear!

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass.

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse.

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse.

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room.

Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

"I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

"Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around.

Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice.

Torvi spoke up, surprising him. "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!"

"Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now."

With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him.

Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

"I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

"I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

"No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

"Yeah…. What is her name?"

"My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

"Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but.

*****

It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible.

Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy.

"Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around.

The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression.

Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front.

The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her.

"Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for.

"This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N."

She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

"It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

"Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted.

"Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view.

"There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty.

A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n.

Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her."

*****

The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood.

The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind.

When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon.

Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves.

Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart.

As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony.

Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons.

So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed.

Especially when Ubbe explained his plan.

The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited.

The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him.

The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

"I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes.

"Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy.

The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n.

After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them.

Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move.

"Of….of course, my lord husband."

"Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it.

"It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again.

"The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain.

"Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated.

"You can't….we must witness…."

"I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence.

A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him.

Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out."

Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

"Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

"We'll name our firstborn after you."

Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room.

Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Your brother….is….frightening."

"Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed. Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over.

"Um, my lord…."

"Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

"Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air.

He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

"But we must consummate the marriage."

"I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance.

After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing.

Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not.

"I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another.

To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm.

"I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

"What?"

"I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

"If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow.

"Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door.

Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom.

The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

"Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

"Ok."

"We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges.

"Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep.

"Yes?"

"What if….what if I want to."

"Mmmm?"

"Um, fulfill our marital duties."

Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten.

Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political.

Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #vikings bjorn #torvi vikings #lagertha #alfred the great #king alfred #hayleys2k #mzwrites

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dean’s Jeans 2

What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!

Title: Dean’s Jeans 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5561

Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.

Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end

It was a big day for driveways and garages.

You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.

“Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.

“Should be. Why, what’s up?”

“I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”

Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.

“Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.

Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.

You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.

“Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”

Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”

“No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.

“A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.

“Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”

“’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.

“Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.

“Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.

“You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch. They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”

You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.

“Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.

“Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.

“Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”

“Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”

You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.

Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.

DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.

“Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”

You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”

“That’s why he needs a hug?”

“Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.

“It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.

A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.

Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”

Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”

His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.

DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”

“Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.

She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”

After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.

“I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”

You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”

He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”

You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.

It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.

“My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.

“He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”

Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”

“Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”

He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.

They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.

“Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.

He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”

“You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.

As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.

“How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”

“You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.

“I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”

“Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”

“Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.

You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”

Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”

Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”

Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”

“Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”

“As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”

“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.

“Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”

“You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”

It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.

He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”

Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”

The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.

He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.

“Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”

“You’d think I drugged them.”

He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.

You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide. You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.

It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.

The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.

Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.

“You’re thinking about your knees right now?”

“That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.

You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.

But here he was still.

Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.

No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”

“All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”

Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.

“Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”

“Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Same River Twice (aka Time Travel Nie Bros) - part 4 - see ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2, part 3

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, several shichen into the most awkward conversation he’d ever been forced to overhear in his life, “I think Wei Wuxian needs more friends.”

His father stopped contemplating the window with an expression that suggested he was considering throwing himself out of it and looked at him. “So you’ve mentioned before.”

“Yes, I know,” Nie Mingjue said, because he had in fact brought it up after Nie Huaisang’s no doubt unintentionally apt suggestion. “But on second thought, he needs them urgently. As does Huaisang. You don’t want them growing up barbaric and unsocialized, do you?”

His father mouthed the words ‘barbaric and unsocialized’ to himself, looking delighted. “By which you mean that you’d like to take them to visit the Lan sect, I assume?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. “To learn good habits from them there?”

“To avoid learning bad habits here,” Nie Mingjue said. “Alternatively, you could always kick all of them out so that all of us can stop getting the loud and dramatic rendition of all the different types of bad decisions adults can make, courtesy of our friends in the Jiang sect and our new guest disciples.”

“…take Zonghui with you,” his father said. “Have a nice trip. Enjoy the quiet.”

There was a better than decent chance that he was being sarcastic, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to wait around long enough to find out – he saluted and turned to run away at once.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” his father shouted after him.

That was ridiculous. What sort of trouble could Nie Mingjue get into in Gusu, of all places?

“Nie-gongzi, has anyone ever told you that you have really weird taste in rewards?” Nie Zonghui said, looking long-suffering as always.

Wei Wuxian, who was riding on his shoulders, craned his head down to look at him. “Rewards? What is Nie-da-ge getting rewarded for?”

“He performed especially well on his first ever night hunt,” Nie Zonghui told him, while Nie Mingjue flushed red and Nie Huaisang, who was riding on his shoulders, giggled. “His father wanted to reward him, and determined to do so by granting the first request he made.”

“He didn’t tell me he was planning on doing that,” Nie Mingjue hissed. If he had, he might’ve asked to visit Yunping City to collect Meng Yao – finding a reason to go there was much harder to achieve than arranging a simple visit to the Lan sect, which would’ve happened sooner or later anyway.

His thoughts hadn’t been focused on reward at all. He’d only really, truly desperately wanted to get away from any further discussion of Sect Leader Jiang’s sex life.

(Cangse Sanren was blunt and straightforward in her speech, something Nie Mingjue greatly appreciated right up until she was shouting things about size and shape and performance and also her husband…it was absolutely mortifying, even just as a spectator, except possibly Jiang Fengmian was into things like that because he just kept on arguing. In his past-future life, Nie Mingjue had had to sit across the table from Jiang Fengmian for years, and might yet have to do so again if he was not successful in adverting his father’s death, which was something he wouldn’t be able to if he kept hearing things like this! He didn’t want to know things like this!)

No, Nie Mingjue hadn’t thought about rewards at all – had already put away all thoughts of that particular night-hunt in favor of showing of his improvement with Baxia, who practically purred in his hands when he wielded her, so that he could win his independence sooner rather than later.

Even picking Gusu as their destination had been primarily motivated by seizing on the last place anyone had mentioned to him as a plausible destination that could be sold to his father.

Nie Huaisang had asked him, all big and wide-eyed and adorable, why they were going to somewhere as far away from the Unclean Realm as the Cloud Recesses, and Nie Mingjue had blamed Nie Huaisang’s suggestion of introducing Wei Wuxian to the Lan sect.

Nie Huaisang had also asked why they were going now and Nie Mingjue had explained in a rush of tangled words that sometimes grown-ups liked to talk about private things very loudly and maybe it would be better to leave them to it.

Nie Huaisang had found that dreadfully funny for some reason, giggling until both he and Wei Wuxian were rolling around on the ground laughing their heads off at the idea of going to Gusu –

Nie Mingjue didn’t care. As long as they went, and with them his excuse to go as well!

(Besides, it would be nice to see Lan Xichen.)

“Of course he didn’t tell you about it, Nie-gongzi,” Nie Zonghui said patiently. “It was meant to be a surprise. Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you knew about it, would it?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. Nie Zonghui was a half-generation above him – older than him by over a decade, entitling him (if only technically) to be called uncle rather than cousin, but young enough that he sometimes felt more like a peer. Certainly once Nie Mingjue himself had become sect leader, having someone like him to help figure out how to communicate with the elders had been priceless.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to punch the man in the face on a regular basis.

Stupid sense of humor.

“Wouldn’t da-ge be happier if he could pick what he got?” Nie Huaisang asked. “What if he’d asked for something stupid, like a map?”

Nie Mingjue reached up to one of the legs currently dangling next to his ear and pinched him lightly, making his little brother squeak and then giggle again. He wasn’t sure why Nie Huaisang was still so worried about his offer to buy him a map – he hadn’t even known that the under-five age group could have a sense of financial economy, much less guilt over it, but then again he didn’t know much about kids that age anyway – but no matter what he wasn’t having any of it.

In this life, his brother would be happy for as long as Nie Mingjue could give him.

Of course, making Nie Huaisang happy would be easier if he wasn’t so picky.

“Didi, didi, it’s all right,” he said, trying to be soothing and not really remembering how. “You don’t need to be afraid - Lan Xichen is a friend…I’m sorry, Xichen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“It’s no problem,” Lan Xichen said, looking exactly as one would expect a nine-year-old being addressed as a peer by a twelve-year-old that his guardian routinely praised as a role model would be – which was to say, a little pleased, a little uncertain, and mostly confused. The shrieking four-year-old wasn’t helping matters, either. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to offend him...?”

“You’re blind,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him, tears still streaming down his face. “Blind, blind, blind!”

“No, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said helplessly. He had no idea where Nie Huaisang got these ideas into his head, was it a feature of early childhood or something? “He’s not – look, the bandage is around his forehead, right? Not his eyes. And since when do you have something against blind people anyway?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his side. “Stupid da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue patted him on the back. “Sorry,” he said to Lan Xichen again. “This isn’t exactly the first impression I was hoping for.”

Lan Xichen abruptly grinned, looking for a moment like a regular child rather than the polite and reserved young man Nie Mingjue had known for so many years – it reminded him a little of the boy from the future timeline that he’d only seen brief glimpses of through the pieces of his soul that were attached to the pieces of his body, the loud and irreverent one called Lan Jingyi.

Back then he'd wondered abstractly how exactly such a boy could be related to the Lan clan, stately and elegant even when they acted radically, and now all of a sudden he saw that boy staring out of him from Lan Xichen’s immature face.

“Bet you thought you’d look a lot more dashing, didn’t you?” Lan Xichen asked merrily. “Flying in on your swords, jumping down for a perfect landing, and then – waaaaaaah!”

Nie Mingjue laughed, because it really had happened a bit like that.

“Don’t forget the domino effect,” he said wryly, glancing over at where Wei Wuxian was being plied with treats from a bag pulled from Nie Zonghui’s sleeve – he’d started sympathy crying when Nie Huaisang had inexplicably started wailing, and was having trouble stopping even though he admitted that nothing was actually wrong with him other than having feelings. “They’re probably just over-tired from the trip.”

“Did you really fly all the way from Qinghe?” Lan Xichen asked eagerly. “All by yourself?”

“We made a lot of stops –”

“But you were on your own sword, right? Just you?”

“It’s a saber and I was carrying Huaisang, but yes, in terms of who was in charge of propulsion, it was just me.”

Lan Xichen heaved a sigh full of obvious envy, and Nie Mingjue smiled. “If you want, I can petition your uncle that you act as my guide to the surrounding environs as well as the Cloud Recesses itself? He’d have to let you fly by yourself if that was the case.”

“Oh, would you?” Lan Xichen enthused. “That would be great! I’m not that good yet, but I’m not going to get good if I don’t have a chance to practice, except Uncle is always saying that – oh, wait, I’m not supposed to say –”

“Speaking of others behind their back is prohibited,” Nie Mingjue said solemnly, then cracked up at the dumbfounded expression on Lan Xichen’s face. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t quote your sect rules at you, I promise, it was just a joke…”

“You’d better!”

He rather liked this enthusiastic version of Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue thought.

Even Nie Huaisang seemed to have gotten over his initial fright to start begrudgingly enjoying all of Lan Xichen’s chattering and bustling around – Nie Mingjue thought he might, given that Lan Xichen currently reminded him immensely of an extremely chatty blue-breasted quail and Nie Huaisang had always liked those. There was so much life in Lan Xichen, good humor and cheer filling him up until he was practically bursting with it; he hadn’t yet had to learn how to hold back his feelings and hide them, hadn’t yet learned that the only acceptable way to interact with others was through a carefully practiced smile.

Perhaps what was why Lan Xichen had been so drawn to Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue reflected – Meng Yao had hidden himself underneath a smile, too. Where he himself had admired Meng Yao for what he had thought was his strength of character, his ability to ignore the jibes and the slights he faced in favor of carrying on and doing what must be done, just as Nie Mingjue longed to be able to do, perhaps Lan Xichen had from the very first moment seen Meng Yao as someone in need of sympathy and affection. Perhaps it had been his own suffering projected onto Meng Yao’s open, facile face that had so tugged on his heartstrings.

It was a little odd, though.

It was a long time ago, but Nie Mingjue recalled meeting Lan Xichen when they were both quite young, and if he put his mind to thinking about it, he was pretty sure they would have met in about two years’ time – his fourteen to Lan Xichen’s eleven, with Nie Huaisang nearly six and Lan Wangji nearly seven. And yet the Lan Xichen he had met had been so very different from this, far more serious and reserved, quiet more often than not, that practiced smile already on his face and only with great reluctance melting into something real…

He wondered why there had been such a great change.

In the meantime, Nie Mingjue relieved Nie Zonghui of his duties on account of their safety – the older man had been to Gusu before for discussion conferences, and looked extremely bored – and took Nie Huaisang’s hand in one hand and Wei Wuxian’s in the other, and the three of them followed Lan Xichen around as he pointed out all the things he liked best.

Wei Wuxian broke away at one point and sped into the brush, shrieking something about a rabbit, and when they gave chase and found him again, he’d somehow bumped into Lan Wangji, who with his white clothing and solemn expression resembled nothing so much a bunny himself.

“Nie-da-ge, this is my friend!” Wei Wuxian hollered, even though they couldn’t have been talking for more than a few minutes before the rest of them caught up. “His name’s Lan Zhan! I’m keeping him forever!”

Nie Huaisang sniggered, and Nie Mingjue poked him – it was rude to laugh at other people’s earnestness.

“That’s nice, Wuxian,” he said, and formally saluted Lan Wangji, knowing how much the other boy liked rules and things being done right. “I’m pleased to meet you, Wangji. I hope we can be friends as well.”

Lan Wangji stared at him mutely for a long moment, and then his entire face slowly turned bright red as if he were boiling.

Nie Mingjue blinked, unsure about the reason for such an extreme reaction, but standing beside him Lan Xichen cackled. “Oh, oh, this is great,” he crowed. “Wait till I tell Mom!”

Lan Wangji attempted to bite him, which naturally made Wei Wuxian leap to his friend’s assistance, and somehow Nie Huaisang ended up wading into the fray with a stick that he waved around like a war-fan, seeking inexplicably to defend Lan Xichen despite having previously displayed no fondness for him at all.

Nie Mingjue waded in as well, of course, trying to separate them and somehow ending up as everyone’s target when they realized that he was strong enough to pick them all up and toss them (lightly) into the piles of soft grass that covered the meadow, even Lan Xichen, and at that point they all threw themselves at him eagerly in order to be throw back.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t really thinking about that, though. He was thinking about what Lan Xichen had said.

He was thinking about – Mom.

Not Nie Mingjue’s own, naturally. She’d been gone since he was younger than Nie Huaisang was now. Perhaps it was because Nie Mingjue had his father and his aunts and his uncles, but he had never really felt the lack of her all that much, except maybe when he needed to learn some etiquette he didn’t know or when his peers spoke fondly of their own mothers. Nor was he thinking of Nie Huaisang’s mother, who had been very nice and whose untimely death had upset him immensely; he honestly hadn’t thought of either of them in years and years by the time he’d died.

But rather, he thought about Lan Xichen’s mother – Lan Wangji’s mother –

Nie Mingjue hadn’t learned the story of her fate until much, much later in life, when he was very nearly an adult. The Lan sect had always kept their secrets very well, and he might never have learned the details if it hadn’t been for Lan Xichen willingly divulging them. He’d told him the whole awful story of how his mother had not loved his father even though he loved her, how she had killed someone dear to him, how he had married her to save her and gone into seclusion to punish himself, how the Lan sect, ever concerned with its face, had covered it all up by forcing her into permanent seclusion…

The story had never really sat right with him. A punishment was one thing, entirely justifiable; murder was murder, and life imprisonment was a valid sentence, a valid commutation of the death sentence that she probably ought to have received. It was not Nie Mingjue’s place to question how the Lan sect selected and imposed punishments…

And yet, something about it had always felt rotten.

Maybe it was only that the Nie sect didn’t believe in solitary imprisonment. Or, well, really solitary anything, with even seclusion being done in a relatively well-traveled area so that those inside could, if they wished, open a one-sided window to hear the noise and know that their family was around them. Even their tombs, their saber halls, were joined together into what was practically a necropolis – even in death, the Nie sect would rather be together than apart.

If he recalled correctly, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji’s mother would soon be taken away from them for good. She’d died when Lan Xichen was – ten? Ten to Lan Wangji’s six, yes, that sounded right.

A year from now, then. Less, maybe.

“– xiongzhang is da-ge, not er-ge!”

“No, you don’t understand, my da-ge is older – and bigger – so he’s da-ge, and your xiongzhang is er-ge, and that means you’d be san-ge, and Wei-gege is – wait, which one of you is older?”

“Huaisang, it doesn’t work that way, we’re not the same family –”

“What are you even talking about?” Nie Mingjue asked, abruptly coming out of his thoughts. They’d continued playing while he daydreamed, and now Lan Xichen was perched on his back like a monkey, with Nie Huaisang on one of Nie Mingjue’s shoulder while Wei Wuxian hung off the other arm’s bicep and Lan Wangi clung to his neck in front like a sloth on a branch, as Nie Mingjue demonstrated that he could, in fact, keep walking with all of them attached. Every single one of them seemed to think this was the absolute height of entertainment. “Who’s related to what now? Huaisang, can’t you just call Xichen Xichen-ge or something?”

“Oh, fine. Xichen-gege! Xichen-gege!”

“Nie-didi! Nie-didi!”

“Too loud,” Lan Wangji sniffed.

“Didn’t you hear Lan Zhan?!” Wei Wuxian promptly hollered at the top of his lungs. “You’re all being too loud!”

“I’m going to throw each and every one of you into a pond,” Nie Mingjue said. “One by one, if I have to.”

“Do you promise?” Lan Xichen giggled in his ear. “That sounds like fun!”

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, “I had a different thought. How about we play hide-and-seek?”

The advantage of future knowledge, Nie Mingjue thought, was that he knew exactly where Madame Lan’s home was and how to get there within the time period he’d suggested for the initial hiding.

The disadvantage was that he was so focused on achieving his goal that he forgot that what implications might be taken from a twelve-year-old boy breaking into a woman’s home, especially at a time when she wasn’t expecting visitors.

“I’m so sorry!” he all but shrieked, covering his eyes even though he had already turned his back. “Please put on clothing!”

“Oh, your face –” Madame Lan was guffawing. “You’re so red – boy, you don’t have to throw yourself out the window in penance or anything. I’m still wearing my inner robe, you can’t even see anything.”

“It’s still inappropriate!”

“Could be worse. I could’ve been –”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he begged. “I swear I’m not actually doing this because I have a crush on you, so please, please, please don’t give me any details about what you do in the privacy of your own home, okay? And stop offering me your under-things! I don’t want them!”

“I was only doing laundry,” she said, almost crying with laughter. “I didn’t mean to throw my underwear at your face, it was really just the closest thing to hand…who are you, anyway? Shouldn’t you be introducing yourself to me?”

“I’ll introduce myself when you’re dressed and not a moment earlier.”

“Oh, all right, have it your way. Give me a moment.” There was some rustling. “All right, turn around.”

He peeked and sighed with relief: Madame Lan was, in fact, appropriately dressed in a lovely white silk dress, adorned with the typical Lan sect cloud embroidery and everything. The style was a little freer and less conservative than he might have expected to see the mistress of a Great Sect wearing, but then again he supposed she’d never actually had to do the work associated with it. It was hard to host a society party from seclusion…

“Qinghe Nie’s Nie Mingjue greets He Kexin, Madame Lan,” he said, saluting properly. “I’m a visitor to your sect.”

“I hadn’t realized that we were anticipating visitors from another Great Sect,” she remarked. “Normally there’s a great deal more hustle and bustle involved with preparing to receive a visit.”

“It’s an informal one,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Somewhat, uh, abrupt. We didn’t send word in advance. You see, we recently accepted Cangse Sanren and her husband as guest disciples, and shortly thereafter the Jiang sect paid us an unexpected visit…”

Madame Lan had clearly heard about that disaster, if the way she put her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her chortling was any indication.

“I think I see the issue, being as I happen to remember Cangse Sanren very well,” she said, her eyes dancing. “What a troublemaker. She even shaved off Qiren-xiaoshuzi’s beard one time! I’m guessing based on the way you turned into a boiled crayfish that she scared you out of your own home?”

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth to protest, except, well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate…

“What a charming little egg you are! You’re such a rotten liar that you can’t even do it to save face.”

“Being dishonest isn’t saving face,” Nie Mingjue said, even though his face felt like it was burning and he was probably just as red as she said he was. “The truth is what the truth is, that’s all. You’re not wrong, that’s more or less what happened – I brought Huaisang and Wuxian here so that we could get away from all the yelling.”

“You picked a good place for that,” Madame Lan said, and there was a dull look in her eye all of a sudden. Nothing like the liveliness from a few moments before. “There’s nowhere like the Cloud Recesses for quiet.”

Nie Mingjue bit his lip, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. Right up until that moment, she hadn’t seemed at all sick, the way he’d thought she’d be – less than a year before she died, from what he remembered of Lan Xichen’s stories. He’d assumed she’d already be ill with the early stages whatever it was that had eventually taken her from her sons.

But now, he didn’t think she was sick, not really, only…bored.

Dreadfully, horribly bored. The sort of bored that drained your life away bit by bit.

Formal training in swordsmanship and scholarship began at six at the Cloud Recesses, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. There were plenty of lessons prior to that, of course, but at age six they would become formalized, the children shifting over from the realm of babies to proper young-adults-to-be. Once Lan Wangji turned six, Madame Lan would have had nothing to look forward to in life.

Nothing, except for her children starting to drift further and further away from her: nothing to do, no purpose, no friends…

Just boredom.

“The Unclean Realm has a communal prison,” he blurted out, and then smacked his hands into his face to hide his shame for being such an inconsiderate ass. Why had he thought he could do this by himself?

He wasn’t even sure what he’d originally come here to accomplish, other than to let Madame Lan know that she ought to see a doctor sooner rather than later in the hopes that they would be able to catch and stymie whatever disease it had been that had killed her, except now of course Nie Mingjue understood that it was no disease at all.

“…what?” she said blankly.

It was too late to retreat, so Nie Mingjue gathered up every bit of courage he’d ever had and barreled onwards.

“I just mean,” he said, tripping over his words, “if you’d like to be – a bit less quiet. Even if your sentence is life imprisonment, surely you don’t have to necessarily serve it here, right?”

Madame Lan stared at him. His shoulders started creeping up to his ears.

“Actually,” she said abruptly, “I was never sentenced.”

He gaped at her. “You – what?”

“Qiren-xiaoshuzi pushed for it, said it was only fair that I knew the exact contours of my punishment, but the sect elders refused,” she explained. “They didn’t want to lose face by having a trial at all, not even privately.”

“But – but if you haven’t been sentenced, you can’t be imprisoned!”

“Is that so?” she asked, looking amused.

“You can’t,” Nie Mingjue insisted, horrified. “The laws of war say that someone can be executed on the spot for committing a crime, but in peacetime they have to be sentenced first even if you catch them red-handed. What if your accuser recants his accusation, whether because he was wrong or because he decided not to press charges? If they recant, you can’t be tried; if you can’t be tried, even if everyone knows you’ve done wrong, you still must be released. No trial, no sentence, no imprisonment!”

“Tell that to the Lan sect,” she said dryly. “Not even my husband could do more than he did to forestall my punishment, and he’s sect leader. Nominally, anyway.”

This did seem to be a problem of the Lan sect. Of all sects, really – he had his own share of old men causing issues and sticking their noses into things – but he’d never had anywhere near the problem with the sect elders as Lan Xichen had had with his Lan sect.

“Why should I?” Nie Mingjue asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t see why we have to tell them anything at all.”

“Why are we doing this?” Nie Huaisang asked, tugging on Nie Mingjue’s sleeve.

“I already explained,” Nie Mingjue said, which he had. He’d also explained that he’d run in there by accident while looking for a place to hide, and he’d tried to look as much like a stupid twelve-year-old as possible when he said it. “About the lack of a trial –”

Nie Huaisang tugged again. “Not that. Why are we rescuing her?”

“Because she might die if we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “She’s very bored in there all by herself.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? It’d make Xichen and Wangji sad if she died.”

“So?”

“So they shouldn’t be sad if they don’t have to be! I don’t want them to be sad because they lost a parent…don’t you remember being sad about your mom having died, Huaisang?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “I had da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d keep this conversation in mind for later when Nie Huaisang was old enough to actually understand the concept of death, and then he’d use it to torment him forever.

“Wouldn’t you be sad if da-ge died, then?” he asked, and felt Nie Huaisang’s hands abruptly clutch tight on his arms. “There you go. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, but he was still scowling a little in his adorable childhood way, and Nie Mingjue thought for a second that he heard him murmuring something about inviting unnecessary trouble under his voice, but…whatever, it wasn’t important.

What was more important was that Lan Xichen had arrived with what Nie Mingjue had asked him to fetch for him, his cheeks bright pink with excitement. “Nie-da-ge,” he hissed even though there wasn’t anyone in the area, thrusting the package into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “I got it!”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, then paused. “Er, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Mind what?”

“That I’m kind of, uh, well – I mean, I’m kidnapping your mother. You won’t be able to see her as often as you do now if this works…”

“She’ll be free,” Lan Wangji, trailing behind Lan Xichen as always, said solemnly. Then he stuck his thumb in his mouth, which somewhat ruined the effect.

Wei Wuxian, who’d rushed over to stand next to him as soon as he’d seen him, hugged him tightly. “You’ll come over all the time,” he assured him. “My mom will like your mom, and we’ll all go outside and play all the time. We’ll be really happy!”

Lan Wangji sniffed and buried his face into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“It’s like Wangji said,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were intense. “She’s not happy here, she’s not free here, and we only see her once a month anyway – less, in the future, once we’re both busy with lessons all the time. If she can be free somewhere else…you will let us come visit, right?”

“As often as you’re allowed,” Nie Mingjue promised, as it was about all he could do. “I’ll talk to my father about it…”

His father would probably have a fit.

Still, this was an injustice. Even if his father disagreed, it was something he had to do. He’d justify it with reference to their sect principles, and take any punishment duty his father chose to impose.

“It doesn’t matter, he’ll agree,” he said firmly. “You’ll definitely be able to visit.”

“Can I raise an objection?” Nie Zonghui said mournfully from where he was hovering by the side of the clearing. “Possibly two – no, three objections.”

Nie Mingjue looked at him and tilted his head to the side in silent question.

“One, your father said not to get into trouble, if you’ll trouble yourself to remember back that far,” he said, raising a finger. “Two, how exactly do you plan to break the array keeping Madame Lan imprisoned? And three, even if you do break it, how do you plan to get her out?”

The first was irrelevant. The other two…

“We’re going to walk out the front gate,” Nie Mingjue said, and opened up the package Lan Xichen had gotten him – as he’d suspected, there had been spare robes for Qinghe Nie disciples left behind from the previous discussion conference, and sure enough the Lan sect had kept hold of them as a courtesy to the owners. “The Lan sect has never affirmatively stated that Madame Lan wasn’t allowed to leave; they just said she was too sickly to do so. Therefore, if we leave with a Nie sect disciple who is clearly capable of walking out, there’s nothing they can do to stop us without admitting that it’s her and that she’s a prisoner – which they won’t do, because then they’d lose face.”

“That barely counts as a plan,” Nie Zonghui said, and for some reason Nie Huaisang nodded in agreement. “But sadly I think it might actually work.”

Nie Huaisang looked betrayed.

“It will work,” Lan Xichen said. “Especially if you insist that she’s one of yours. They won’t be able to call you out without calling you a liar, and they wouldn’t want to do that. Not publicly, not about this.”

“Won’t there be a problem that she’s a girl wearing boy’s clothing?” Wei Wuxian asked, patting Lan Wangji’s head.

“No, that’s not a problem in Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang told him. “You’re new, so you’re not used to it, but it really isn’t. I mean, she could be misaligned or something, it’s not our business.”

“And we won’t be lying about her being one of ours,” Nie Mingjue said. “Since I’ve offered her sanctuary in our sect, it’s even technically true.”

Nie Zonghui sighed. “And if they ask Lan-gongzi and Lan-er-gongzi if she’s their mother?”

“Wangji won’t say anything,” Lan Xichen said at once. “And I’ll – I’ll lie if I have to.”

He was truly unbearably cute at this age.

Nie Zonghui appeared to be suffering from a similar problem, reaching over and patting him lightly on the head in helpless amusement. “Okay, okay. Let’s hope they don’t ask,” he said. “But – Nie-gongzi, we still have the second problem. How do you intend to get Madame Lan out of the imprisonment array?”

Nie Mingjue patted his cousin – who he knew from his future experience was one of the finest array breakers in their sect, a charming side-effect courtesy of his dual-wielded saber cultivation style – on the shoulder. “I intend to delegate.”

Nie Zonghui blinked, then glared. “I walked myself into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said peaceably. “Can you break it? I can use Baxia, if it’ll help.”

“Hmph. Yes, it would help a great deal, but will she agree to consume an array for you? That’s fairly high-grade work, and talent or no talent, you’re still fairly new to mastering the saber.”

Nie Mingjue put his hand on Baxia’s blade, which felt warm and pleased. Practically purring. At some point he would need to investigate why she was so happy all the time – she’d never been this compliant in his first life, and he’d expected her to be more vicious, not less. “Yes, she’ll be happy to help.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Nie Zonghui paused briefly. “Also, if your father asks, you held Baxia to my throat and made me do it. It was definitely not me being curious about whether or not I could break such a complicated array.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Nie Mingjue said understandingly, and drew Baxia. “All right. Let’s go get ourselves banned from the Cloud Recesses.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie zonghui #madame lan #my fic #my fics #time travel nie bros

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barricadebops · 3 years

Note

You said if we ask you might give a snippet, :) please

Here's a snippet from a little fic I'm working on right now:

Enjolras comes home with a bruise. But not with tears. True, it's entirely likely that those tears may have been there, now dried up in thanks to time, but so far as Bahorel and Combeferre see, he comes home only with a bruise, a bluish patch now decorating his right cheek.

Enjolras' parents are out late at work again, won't be coming home until at least 21: 30, so they're babysitting once more, though Combeferre knows Enjolras would prefer neither he nor Bahorel call it that. To that protest, Bahorel would laugh loudly and ruffle his hair, telling him he still hasn't hit his double digits yet at nine years old. Enjolras would argue that Combeferre and Bahorel aren't that much older than himself, to which Bahorel would grin and inform him that the seven years he has more than him, and the six years by which Combeferre is Enjolras' elder, are pretty damn significant.

But the point is, he comes home with a bruise, a source of immense worry for Combeferre, and garners a quirked eyebrow from Bahorel, though it should be noted that he too is concerned, it is simply that his methods of expressing are different from those of Combeferre, who scoops Enjolras up despite his noise of protest, and sits him on the kitchen counter to further inspect the bruise.

"What happened here?" he murmurs in concern. Bahorel makes his way at his side and crosses his arms, his face a cross between amusement and concern.

"You weren't fighting, now were you, ma petite puce?"

Combeferre shoots him a glare. "Enjolras wasn't fighting. He knows better than that." He turns to face Enjolras, his voice almost a warning. "Right?"

The boy blushes. "No," he replies quietly. "This isn't my fault."

Bahorel chuckles, and Enjolras frowns deep.

"I'm telling the truth, I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't even fighting," Enjolras insists.

Bahorel's smile grows. "Well why weren't you?"

Combeferre whips around once more to glare intensely at the older boy. "He doesn't need to get into physical fights, Bahorel, stop--"

"Combeferre says to always try and talk first to solve the problem," Enjolras interrupts, reciting from memory. His words prompt a smile from Combeferre, who laughs gently and pulls a hand through Enjolras' hair.

"Exactly. That's right." He smiles for a moment more before his face turns concerned once more as he inspects the bluish patch, and he begins to rummage through the cabinets for the first aid kit.

Bahorel hums and reaches over to tuck a loose curl behind Enjolras ear with an easy brotherly sort of affection. "What's the story then?"

Combeferre can see the way Enjolras stares up with wide eyes. "These quatrieme kids took Courfeyrac's sac a dos."

"Ah!" Bahorel exclaims. "So you took up the quest of valour and fought to have it back!"

Enjolras shakes his head furiously. "No! I said I didn't fight!" He pauses for a moment. "But Courfeyrac tried to."

At this, Combeferre rolls his eyes. Courfeyrac always did have a penchant for quicker and feistier solutions.

He rummages through the kit and hums to prompt Enjolras to continue.

"I stopped Courf from fighting them and then asked them to give it back. They said they would give it back." He frowns deep. "Then they threw it at me. Really hard."

Bahorel's brows furrow. "They just threw it at you?"

"Yes."

Having prepared an ice pack, Combeferre holds it to where the boys must have slammed the bag into Enjolras' face. His blood pressure is rising steadily after hearing of what happened, but for the sake of being a good impression on Enjolras, he keeps calm.

"And the teachers outside didn't say anything?" He tries to keep his voice steady.

"They told the boys to go inside with them. I don't know what happened to them."

"Hold on, didn't they give you anything for your bruise?" Bahorel asks, flabbergasted.

"I said I didn't need anything!" Enjolras replies brightly, to which Combeferre groans loudly, putting his head into his hands, and Bahorel erupts into sudden laughter, giving the boy on the counter a tight hug, which Enjolras blinks and accepts confusedly.

Combeferre huffs and waits for Bahorel to let go of Enjolras before venting his frustrations, "Enjolras you don't get to make that decision! You were hit hard!" Enjolras gets as angry as a nine year old can possibly look and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it shut just as soon as he sees Combeferre hold up his hand. "No, Enjolras, don't think I don't know you told the teacher that you were fine so you wouldn't have to go see the school nurse."

Enjolras' face twists in indignation. "But I didn't need to go!"

Combeferre rolls his eyes and holds Enjolras still with an arm around his waist as he presses the ice pack to Enjolras' cheek and Enjolras tries to squirm away from the cold sensation. At his side, Bahorel's eyes furrow once more.

"I'm still trying to work out why thirteen year olds would pick on nine year olds," he mutters.

"Beats me, but I do hope they were sufficiently scolded," Combeferre breathes as he presses a kiss to Enjolras' forehead before letting him down from the counter and ordering him to keep the pack to his face. He leaves the kitchen, pulling out his phone with a grimace and heading for a quiet room.

Oh, he's going to love the conversation he's about to have with M. and Mme. Enjolras.

______________________________________

Bahorel stares down at where Enjolras now stands, still wobbling a little, having been set on the floor after being made to sit on the counter for so long. He grins in amusement and reaches down to ruffle his hair.

"I always knew you would be a troublesome kid," he declares as he takes him by the hand and leads him to the table for a snack. "Good on you! We weren't meant just to sit around and be meek, though I have to confess you had me worried there with the way teachers always called you quiet. For a while I thought I would grow to watch you become a rule abiding citizen!"

Enjolras nods solemnly. “Some of our rules are stupid. Like the rule that we can only go to the bathroom if its an emergency. So I don’t care about it. I just leave.”

“Well I’m glad we have another rule breaker joining us. We need as many of us as we can get, and you can be assured they’ll never tame me, no matter how many classmates keep harping on me to go to law school.”

Enjolras’ face turns confused. “But Combeferre doesn’t break the rules.”

With a secretive smile, Bahorel beckons Enjolras to lean in closer, to which he does with wide, wide eyes. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

Enjolras nods vigorously.

He looks around with an air of great drama. “Our Combeferre isn’t the rule following example he wants you to think he is,” he whispers, though not very quietly. “He’s probably broken just as many rules as I have.”

At this statement, Enjolras’ expression turns to one of disbelief as he shakes his head. “But maman says that Combeferre never went to the principal’s office.”

Bahorel winks. “That’s ‘cause he never has; he never gets caught.”

Lol, I don't know how the French education system works and what you call the grades, I tried my best with that part. Also I'm still mot used to y'all using military time. But yeah, this is a snippet. Spoiler alert, Bahorel's going to be teaching Enjolras how to throw a punch without Combeferre knowing.

#annie writes stories #annie's answers #les miserables #enjolras #combeferre #bahorel

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azure-bliss · 3 years

Text

shinran oneshot

Fandom: DC

Pairing: Shinran

Excerpt:

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips met his, and then, “Arigato.”

A/N: I swear that this was supposed to be fluffy but brain said nope, angst-infused it is. Also, I’m no expert in medicine nor the Japanese police system, even criminology for that matter. Spare me. Enjoy!

Day 9

“I should write a book.”

Shinichi’s first instinct was to snort, as he was reminded of Kogoro-ojisan’s—who he should really be calling otousan nowadays—intention of becoming a mystery novelist, much like his actual father. Kudo Yusaku had made millions writing his thrillers, and today, years after the older Kudo patriarch decided to publish his final novel, he was still adding money to the Kudo fortune.

Perhaps his mother playing the titular character in one of Night Baron’s spinoff adaptations, Lady Baron, played a huge factor too. His parents were weird that way, almost like a tag-team, because the moment Kudo Yusaku announced his writing retirement, Kudo Yukiko came out of hers.

It was as if they thought that the world could not handle more than three (he was pretty sure his popularity was on par with his parents, despite his lack of big screen appearances) famous Kudos at a time.

“Finally jumping on the full Kudo experience?” he teased, adjusting himself on the hospital bed where his wife sat, left arm wrapped around her whole frame, right palm covering hers.

Eyes focused on the little bundle in her arms, she hummed before answering, “A best-seller for sure.”

As if on cue, their newborn squirmed before revealing twin orbs that matched his mother’s, unfocused eyes looking up to the woman who went through hell and back prior to his birth.

“Anata,” she called, her tired voice laced with a hint of excitement. “He’s beautiful.”

Day 1

He stood in an abandoned room of an equally abandoned motel located just 50 km on the outskirts of Tokyo, the very location that had him and nearly the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Police Taskforce wrecking their brains and exhausting their resources to find. The identified suspect was one Seisaku Miyazaki, a serial rapist and killer with a tendency for flairs. The 27 crime scenes he left always had distinct blood splatter to them, resulting from either gunshot wounds straight to the temple, or intraoral ones.

Shinichi had never seen a crime scene so gruesome in his life.

As soon as Shinichi stepped into the room, the first thing he should have registered was the blood-spattered left wall and Seisaku’s limp and lifeless body on a chair in the same left corner, his riffle trapped in between his legs.

Instead, Shinichi’s frantic eyes zeroed on the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, merely 10 feet away from Seisaku’s body. The woman had her back against the headboard with an ungodly amount of blood running down her bottom half, arms cocooning a small bundle wrapped with a violet-colored cardigan—the same one she was last saw wearing before her disappearance.

She had her eyes on her baby, as if the newborn was the only person who mattered, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before her. It took the lead detective a full five seconds to notice that the newborn—oh God, their newborn—was not crying.

He was beside her in her flash, holding her tighter than he should. His wife was again, unbothered, but he noticed that she closed their baby more to her semi-naked chest. The cuts and bruises on her face and torso did not go unnoticed by him. All of Seisaku’s victims had the same markings, but unlike those women who bled from their heads, she was bleeding from bottom down.

Kudo Shinichi screamed for the medic.

It was only then did he hear a soft cry, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Anata,” she called, finally removing her gaze from their son to look at him “He’s beautiful.”

Her face was pale and hollow, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her smile.

His heart both bloomed and broke for her.

“Ran,” he choked out the name he’d been desperately calling for the past few hours. “You’re going to be okay.”

When the medic team finally appeared, his wife first handed the closest medic the baby, “Take care of him, onegai,” she requested, sounding too much like a plea. “He’s a good boy.”

Releasing her son’s warmth, the brunette fell back onto her husband, who caught her naked shoulders, throwing her full weight onto his.

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips meet his, and then, “Arigato.”

With a sigh of relief, she shut her eyes, and rolled limp further into her husband’s embrace.

Shinichi’s world stood still, the only things registering in his mind were his wife’s cold body, and their newborn’s loud cries in the distant.

Day 8

She was in pure fight mode, forcing her body to function and conscious to stay awake. Once she knew that her child was safe, all the injuries and agony finally caught up to her, and she welcomed the numbing darkness.

The last thing Ran remembered was Shinichi’s rapid heartbeat drumming her ears.

The new mother woke up a week later, on an unfamiliar bed, to the familiar but tormented eyes of her husband.

“Baby,” she mustered breathily, and her husband’s eyes all but softened.

She knew that they were safe.

Day 10

It was another two whole days before she was deemed fit enough to hold her newborn.

“Anata,” she beams, “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” the Heisei-Reiwa Holmes agreed. “The brat gave the doctors and nurses a fright with his fever, would not stop crying too.”

If his wife was worried, she did not show it. “Is that true?” she cooed, “But you’re okay now, aren’t you sweetheart? Your Papa found us after all.”

Day 0

Kudo Ran did not fit Seisaku Miyazaki’s victim profiles by the slightest. The females he preyed on were usually late teens to early twenties, lived alone, physically petite, and had questionable practices in their private lives.

Or, in the words of Seisaku himself, whores.

Catching the serial killer had been the detective’s top priority, with the death count at 27 and the most recent killings at the heart of Tokyo, it was one of the most challenging cases for him to date.

With half of the murders in Tokyo and the other half in Osaka, it was a no brainer for both Detective of the East and West to join hands, special taskforces from Tokyo and Osaka rallying under their (unofficial) command. The investigation had been ongoing for more than four months before special unit finally made a definite progress, being able to identify a potential victim, shadowing her day and night, coming in to save her just in time from being abducted, and arresting Seisaku’s paid minion.

Genzo Okubo was no Seisaku, the two detectives figured. The latter was confident, methodical, a true psychopathic mastermind, yet the man they caught fumbled with his words, sweated profusely, and most importantly, had little loyalty as he quickly confessed to everything.

The unit rejoiced, but Shinichi and Heiji knew that it was too simple, as if Seisaku wanted Gento to be caught.

By the time they were finished with the guy, it was already 2 a.m.

The lack of miscalls from him wife caught him off guard.

He tried not to panic, reasoning to himself that Ran was probably at her parents’, fell asleep, and his in-laws forgot to inform him. After all, it would not be the first time this had happened. If anything, the Mouris had not stopped fussing over their daughter, and with this case constantly on his mind, Shinichi had not really been the doting husband and father-to-be that he ought to be. Their six-year-old twins were away with his parents somewhere in New York, the elder Kudo couple wanting to give the once-again new parents space to get ready for the youngest Kudo’s arrival.

Halfway through dialing Eri’s number (because his mother-in-law was a light sleeper), Heiji burst into the break room with a suspicious package in his hands.

“Kudo,” the dark-skinned detective panted, as if he just ran up flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, “that bastard’s got Nee-chan.”

Inside the package were two things: a picture of a very pregnant Kudo Ran, blindfolded and gagged, and a lone platinum wedding band.

Day 10

“He panicked.”

“Hmm?”

“Seisaku-san, he panicked.” His wife stated, the name of her kidnapper rolling of her tongue like she was mentioning a student of hers. “I started having contractions, started bleeding too. He mumbled something about ‘not following his plan’.”

Shinichi rose his brows, puzzled by Ran’s statement, but he let her continue.

“I think,” she paused, readjusting her hold on their son when they boy started to writhe, “that he was halfway out when Seisaku-san decided to shoot himself.”

Her voice was cool, too indifferent, and deep down, Shinichi knew that his wife may be scarred for life.

“Three sounds,” she gulped then snickered. “Me screaming during the final push, the baby’s cries, and the riffle going off.”

Shinichi held her tighter.

“His blood was everywhere, Shinichi. On the walls, the carpet, the bed, my face,” There are now cracks in her voice, the memories flooding her overwhelmed mind as she remembers it all again, “On our baby boy.”

“Ran…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. His wife and son were alive, but the trauma she went through was something he wished on no one, not even Seisaku himself.

“I didn’t want him to get cold, so I wrapped him with my cardigan. Not the most hygienic, I know, but I didn’t exactly have many choices,” a chuckle. “He locked the door, so I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t exactly kick the door open, my energy was spent on giving birth. So, I started breastfeeding the baby, burping him…making sure he was alive long enough for you to find us.”

Something in him shattered even more.

Ran averted her eyes away from their son to look at her husband, their faces only a few centimeters apart. There were no tears in their eyes, the pain and regret that remained in their hearts too crushing to be expressed by mere crying. “I’m safe, our boy is safe, because you found us. None of this is your fault, so please, Anata,” she kisses him before continuing, “don’t blame yourself.”

Shinichi could not imagine what life would be without her. She was his wife, partner, lover, best friend, soulmate, the mother of his children, his world, his everything.

“Okay,” he promised simply, capturing her lips for a second time before kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

He felt her smiling into his neck, and at that moment, nothing was wrong; they were whole.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful yet short time they had with their baby boy before one of the nurses took him away for the night.

Day 11

“Your book,” Shinichi remembered far into the night. “What are you going to write about?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Ran’s eyes, and the man knows that his wife will heal just fine. “Kidnapped 101.”

- end

A/N: Nope, not their firstborn. And I also imagine that Ran has had her fair share of getting kidnapped so might as well write a book on it lmao.

#shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #fanfic #detectiveconan #hurtandcomfort?

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sirtwentyofhousegoodmen · 4 years

Note

Arcturus/Melania for a prompt?

April 3rd, 1923

Arcturus Black scowled at the sight before him.

There were dozens of them—from Hogwarts students who'd barely finished their O.W.L.'s to the despaired over daughters yet unwed and rapidly approaching the number deemed the end of an unattached pureblood woman's use (30), All the available pureblood girls (along with some rather bold, uppity half-bloods) were currently flooding the ballroom at Noire House, each about as desirable as the option that came before them.

As always, thoughts of Cedrella made his lip curl even further.

The sound of Abraxas's hiss of distaste brought the young heir to the House of Black out of what his sister would call his sulking, and he pinned down the young Malfoy heir with a questioning gaze.

"Wilhemina Selwyn is wearing the most ghastly gown I've ever seen in my life," He uttered, shuddering theatrically.

"It's not the dress that's at fault," came the smirking voice of Alexander Rowle. "It's the fact that it shows off those repugnant, veiny arms of hers."

"The gown, the veins—I care not, I'm blaming whatever's remotely involved with forcing me to witness that."

"Boys!"

Arcturus turned his head languidly at the unmistakeably deep voice of his younger brother Regulus—that somehow he still managed to make sound effeminate—and gave his brother a curt nod that the younger Black could glean the meaning off a mile away.

Arcturus was having a miserable time.

"Well, don't tell me you've started without me."

"We would never dare," Abraxas raised his glass, mockingly. "What fun is the game without the best player?"

‘The game’ being the snide comments each of them delighted in making about all the other party guests.

"Now, Archie—I know when my older brother's in a snit," Regulus smiled to himself at the eye-roll this elicited from his brother, then theatrically lowered his voice. "Tell me, which of them was it and where did they touch you?"

Arcturus's face turned bright red while Malfoy and Rowle tried—poorly—to hide their sniggers behind their goblets.

"Careful with your brother, Black," Rowle said, stamping down the last vestiges of his laughter. "The Macmillans pounced on him with their eldest twenty minutes ago and he's been in a state since."

Regulus furrowed his brow and scrunched up his nose in distaste. "Mildred Macmillan? Oh, Archie, you poor dear. Thoroughly repellant woman."

Arcturus huffed in agreement. "Too lippy by half."

"Believe me when I say I share in your misery, Arcturus." Regulus took a light sip from his sidecar. "The Crabbes just downright assaulted me with that Aligherian creature they call a daughter."

Abraxas snorted. "Aren't they speaking with your uncle about Pollux?"

"Yes, but why settle for the third-in-line when you can get the second?" He shrugged, perfectly flippant in that way only Regulus could be. "Not that it makes any difference for them, I'm afraid. Irma isn’t to my taste, ghastly personality aside.”

The others shifted their feet uncomfortably while Arcturus ground his teeth to dust. Regulus's...preferences were bad enough, but to have it alluded to in such a way! Still, Regulus' unflappable manner and his overly sharp tongue—owed to a childhood of reading everything there was in the library—tended to amuse the pureblood men in their set enough to engender a tentative kinship. If nothing else, he was a novelty—and, above all else, a Black.

"Either way, I'd still say my evening has been less miserable than yours, Arcturus. After all, you were the one this whole soireé was thrown for."

Arcturus grimaced. "I haven't forgotten. I can hardly go to the restroom without being accosted by some impudent hoyden with designs above her station. That little jape you made wasn't too far off, I'll have you know."

Regulus laughed, gaily. "I trust nothing as bad as your Hogwarts Graduation party happened yet, has it?"

Arcturus grimaced at the memory of a very drunk, very indecent Caroline Greengrass hiding underneath his bedsheets in some pie-eyed notion to make herself Mrs. Black.

"No, Thank God. Aside from the Fawleys practically throwing their plain daughter at me."

"Eugenie?" Alexander scoffed. "Quiet as a mouse and about as attractive as one to boot."

"What do you expect?" Malfoy scoffed. "She is a Fawley after all—no wonder they decided to send that sister of hers to France. Those debauched cheesemongers will take anything as long as it's got legs."

"Regardless," Arcturus said, over Rowle's chuckling and Regulus's poorly hidden laugh. "I will need to pick one by the end of the night. Won't do for my uncle to waste all this gold for nothing."

"Oh, be still my beating heart," Regulus quipped.

"What do you want from me, Regulus?" Arcturus asked, patience worn thinner than his Uncle Cygnus's hair. "This is a cattle show with ballgowns, nothing more."

Regulus lifted up his hands in mock surrender. "Down, Archie. It's only a jape—you're no fun at all tonight. Normally we all have a delightful time bullying these unfortunates and you're stewing like a...stew? Bah, I can't think of anything clever to say anymore, this sidecar really does pack a punch."

The MacMillans appeared to have caught sight of him if the matriarch—a Goyle from a secondary branch that was far too ambitious for her own good—pointing wildly in Arcturus's direction to her long-suffering husband was any sign.

"If you'll excuse me—I need to leave before that woman tears me to pieces."

Without another word in his companions' direction, he bolted from the pillar they had been hiding behind for the last half-hour, and left through the first open door for the gardens he could find. Thankfully, Arcturus neither saw nor heard any witches or wizards upon his arrival outside, and he breathed out a sigh of immense relief.

He stayed there a few seconds, fixed to the marble flooring as if it were some rendezvous point, then shook off any odd feelings and set about a brisk walk around the gardens to gather his bearings.

As always, however, God had not seen fit to make his dreadful day any easier and after a few minutes of nothing but blessed solitude, he saw a petite girl at the entrance of the greenhouse.

Arcturus frowned. Brown hair, brown eyes—similar enough in looks but less beautiful than her elder sister. Yes, it was most certainly the younger Macmillan girl—she was in Regulus’s year, if he recalled correctly.

As if he hadn’t had enough of that lot today.

“Miss Macmillan, is it?”

The slip of a girl jumped, letting out a slight yelp in surprise.

“Oh, my—Mr—Sir, I, forgive me, I was only—“

“Settle down, Miss Macmillan. I mean no harm.” Arcturus walked toward her, grateful that she seemed to calm slightly at his approach. He had no patience for dealing with a ditzy, skittish schoolgirl tonight on top of everything else.

“Arcturus Black,” He nodded at her, rather less curt than he usually did, much to his own confusion. “We met earlier, I believe.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Black. What an unexpected pleasure.”

He snorted lightly, but didn’t comment. “Have you an interest in botany?” He nodded toward the venomous tentacula plant she’d been studying before his entrance.

The girl nodded, enthusiastic. “Herbology is my best subject at Hogwarts. We haven’t taken our N.E.W.T.’s yet, but I’m sure I’ll do well.”

“Seventh year?”

The girl nodded once, tucking an errant brown curl that had slipped out of her pinned updo behind her ear.

“The last year tends to be more...difficult for some,” Arcturus said, in an attempt at conversation—not that he knew how it felt for those who were sentimental about leaving hogwarts.

The headmaster during his own years there was his very own grandfather, after all.

She seemed to hesitate, biting her lip lightly. Looking at her in this light, he thought perhaps his judgement of her beauty was rather unfair—she wasn’t as pretty as her sister, but she was the farthest thing from plain. “It’s hard to believe it’s all over in three months. I’m rather glad I have more time to garden, however. Aside from Herbology, school was never much of an interest for me. I’ll leave all those books to my husband when I marry, I’m sure.” Arcturus nodded in approval at that, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind. “And you?”

He gave her a dry look. “I’m afraid the only thing I know about plants is how to kill them.”

She smiled shyly at the jest, and bizarrely he found himself returning it. “I’m sure you’re not as bad as all that. I hear you’ve an interest in horseflesh—one needs to be somewhat proficient in herbology if they intend to keep their horses in good health.”

Arcturus blinked, rendered mute upon the first thoughtful words he’d heard anyone say all evening. “Quite,” he nodded. “Are you knowledgeable in horseflesh, Miss?”

“I’d like to think so,” She said, fiddling with her gloves. “My grandfather keeps a stable at our house in Kintyre. I’ve been riding them since I was seven.”

“Side-saddle?” Arcturus asked, probingly.

She looked slightly offended. “Of course, Mr. Black—I could hardly ride astride, it’s unseemly for a woman.”

Arcturus felt a feline grin make its way onto his face. “I quite agree, I hope I didn’t cause any offence. Please, call me Arcturus.”

She blinked, then had the grace to blush—as if his choice hadn’t already been made obvious to him, that only solidified it further. “Of course, Arcturus, none was taken. You may call me Melania, then—or Melly, if it pleases you—that’s what everyone calls me,” she supplied, holding out her hand almost hesitatingly. Arcturus, just as all pureblood men were taught, dropped a kiss to the back of it, keeping eye contact all the way through.

Modest? Demure? Beautiful, but not so much it made her unbearably impudent and overly entitled?

The only downside was having that Goyle harpy as a mother-in-law. Then again, if all the men in his family had taught him anything, it’s that every man hates his mother-in-law. Either way, at least this dreadful affair could finally come to an end—as well as the incessant stream of grasping trollops his bachelorhood brought with it.

Silver linings and all that.

#arcturus black #melania macmillan black #prompts #ask #anon #noble and most ancient house of black #harry potter #the black sheep dog #ozymandias #abraxas malfoy #regulus black

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lilallama · 4 years

Note

What's cc ideal Christmas with y\n

As Christmas songs played and the smell of freshly baked goods spread through the halls, seven boys were watching Namjoon's servants decorating the almost ten metres tall Christmas tree. "Couldn't you have afforded a better Christmas tree, Namjoon?" Seokjin eyed the tree with distaste while Namjoon clicked his tongue and threw him a glare. "We're not here to fight, guys." Hoseok pushed his glasses up with a smile, "We're here to celebrate with Y/n." The shortest boy, Jimin was now crossing his arms and pouting while staring across the white, golden front hall to the unnecessary tall front door. "When are they coming, I'm getting bored!" "Jimin," His best friend scolded him, "Don't rush Y/n. I'm sure they'll arrive any minute now."

As if summoned the door bell rang, leading all the boys to race to open the door. Namjoon finally opened the doors, revealing Y/n. "Y/n!" They all chimed in union as Y/n stepped inside closing the doors behind them. Their (lean, petite, plush, broad etc.) body shivered slightly from the cold. "Merry Christmas, guys!" All of them stormed and wrapped Y/n in their arms, a cosy group hug with their love in the centre. "I missed my boys too!" Was said by the personification of perfection as they let out that wonderful, cheery laugh they all desired to be surrounded by at all times.

"I even brought presents for you all!" Only now did they notice the bag they were carrying with them. The boys roared in excitement, confusion or shock. "Awe, Prince/Princess, that was so not necessary. I already have everything, well unless your gift is a rendevouz with just the two of us." The others groaned and complained in outrage. Such behaviour was unacceptable of their club member! "No way, if anyone takes them out it's me!" Jimin pulled them closer to him as he nuzzled himself into their shoulder. "The fuck!? No way you will!" The youngest, Jeongguk practically barked at Jimin who only started whining to Y/n. "Baby, Jeonggukie's being mean again!" To which the others all groaned, except for Yoongi who fiddled with his worn out sweater.

A few moments later they were sitting in Namjoon's room. Seeing how huge it was, way bigger than the run down apartment Yoongi shared with his mother, made the young boy feel self conscious. He could never give Y/n what the others could. Not only money wise, but he also didn't see himself as charismatic or handsome as the others. Y/n sensed that something was off. Their focus layed on the fragile boy while the others discussed whether white- or dark chocolate was better. "You okay, Yoongs?" Y/n asked him as he jumped slightly. He was about to respond but felt his dry throat. Not a single sound could he force out so he just nodded before looking away nervously. Y/n knew he would continue to deny any problem, so they ruffled his fluffy white- blonde hair and joined the conversation of the other boys. Meanwhile Yoongi was staring at them with hearts shining in his irises. Hoseok was the only one to have noticed that interaction between the two. He pretended to not have noticed the lovestruck gaze of his elder towards his best friend. Yet he still threw him a dangerous stare from the corner of his eye.

"Y/n! I heard of a really fun game, you wanna play with me?" The others threw Jimin a sceptical look. "If this is about the mistletoe again-" "No," the pink haired boy let out a huff, "I told you all, that was just a joke." "Joke my ass, you almost kissed Y/-" Jeongguk was interrupted, "Y/n! How about it, mhm?" "Depends." Y/n looked at the puppy eyed boy leaning towards them. "What game are you talking about?" His eyes lit up as he grabbed a Christmas tree shaped cookie decorated with green, red and yellow sugar cream and put one side between his teeth. "I'll show you, grab the other piece with your theeth but try not to break it." The elder (gender) shook their head at Jimin's "game". "Basically the poky game but with cookies?" Asked Hoseok confused. Namjoon leaned towards Hoseok. "What's 'the poky game'?" Meanwhile Y/n decided to play along. Slowly both nibbled their way along the cookie which was more difficult than expected. Jimin closed his eyes and waited for their lips to touch when Y/n "accidentally" bit their piece off. "Oops, looks like you won Jimin." The disappointed look only lasted for a secobd before his eyes lit up and he quickly devoured his part if the cookie. He hurried over to Taehyung and whispered to him. "Their lips touched my cookie piece!" "Really? How lucky! Was there a bit saliva on there?" To that jimin only smirked.

They decided to watch some Christmas movies before giving each other presents. As Y/n was emerged into the story of another busy businesswoman meeting a no risk no fun attitude yielding guy and fell in love with him over time, Taehyung couldn't tear his eyes away from them. Slowly his gaze met their lips, he couldn't stop thinking about what Jimin said earlier. To imagine getting to taste even a bit of their saliva was giving him pleasant chills. But he quickly tried to regain himself. How could he think about such a thing? He knew he had to stop, after all lust was a sin. He's not a sinner! But the mere thought of them pressing their lips unto his made him almost let out ungodly sounds.

"Joonie." Namjoon's head turned to his beloved. "Yes, dear?" "Thank you for inviting me. Tonight has been really fun!" That left Namjoon to smile softly, presenting his lovely dimples. "No need to thank me. Without you none of this would've been enjoyable." His statement had Y/n chuckle and squish his cheeks. "Stop being so sweet to me, you big teddy." As soon as their hands brushed his cheeks he felt his whole body stiffen and heat up. His eyes were filled with love and adoration. How could they make his poor heart beath even faster than it already did every time he's in their presence? But he only ended up shyly smiling and bashfully returning to the movie.

Soon the movies were turned off, instead the room was filled with Christmas songs. Currently they played Last Christmas while eating the cookies. A few of them, including Y/n, started singing along to the song and having a blast. Y/n dramatically sang along pointing to Hoseok, their best friend. He chuckled a bit then covered his mouth as they continued to act silly. Eventually he broke out into full on laughter. His body shook as Y/n continued to dramatically lipsinc to the Christmas song. Usually Hoseok despised those insufferable tunes, Christmas was only useful to sell more products. He couldn't understand how someone could get so excited over such a tacky, money wasting corporate holiday. But Y/n some how made it feel... alright, almost pleasant you could say. Hoseok just loves how silly they are.

The clock told them it was 0 o'clock, finally they would be able to unpack the present their beloved snowflake gifted them. Such honour to be blessed with. "Don't you have gifts for each other?" Y/n furrowed their brows in confusion, so adorable. "Sweetie," Seokjin laughed amused, "Why would I give those baboons anything-?" "What he mean was," Namjoon interrupted Seokjin while throwing him a glare, "we already exchanged them before the holidays. We didn't think we'd celebrate Christmas together this year." "Or ever..." Was muttered by Jeongguk who crossed his arms impatiently and rolled his eyes. "If you keep rolling your eyes like that they'll roll right out their sockets, Gukie~" Hoseok mocked the younger while chuckling along with Seokjin and Namjoon. "No they're not! Eyes don't do that..., right? Y/n that can't happen, right?!" The younger gradually became more panicked. He shoved Jimin aside ("Watch it you muscle pig-") and started grabbing onto Y/n for dear life, or so it felt. "Nothing will happen Jeongguk." They petted his back lightly, leaving Jeongguk to melt and smile a lovesick bunny smile.

The eldest eyed Jeongguk with disgust, how dare that filthy rat touch his Prince/Princess. He cleared his throat and pulled Y/n aside. "I have a special gift for you, love. And no it's not my heart, you already have it." He winked and laughed in his charmingly goofy manner at his cliché flirt attempt. The others glare at them, Jeongguk clenched his fist to the point of his knuckles turning white. But Seokjin didn't let it bother him. "I got you this, I hope you like it." His usually obnoxious and arrogant smile faded into a bashful one as he handed them a little box wrapped in light pink gift wrap. A sparkling white bow was graceful tied ontop making Y/n wonder if he had done it himself. They carefully untie the bow and ripped off the gift wrap revealing a black box. As they opened it, it revealed a beautiful necklace adorned with a brightly shimmering white diamond formed in to shape of a small heart. He helped you put it on, it was perfect. "Do you like it?" He asked with a slight concerned look in his eyes.

They would tare apart the entire universe, pluck star from star that rests within the realm of sight. Time is endless when with you, fear and despair unknown after a look into your shining eyes. No matter how cold it may be, you'll always make their souls burn with such fiery passion and obsession. You are the greatest gift they could've ever gotten.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please reblog it. Thank you for reading!

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere namjoon #yandere jungkook #yandere jin #yandere yoongi

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kryptonian-puppy · 4 years

Text

Throat Full of Glass

The rough sound of nail scratching against marble rings out through the washroom.

Eliza stares herself down in the mirror, lip trembling and arms shaking from the post-match adrenaline that's coursing through her body right now.

There’s a fire in her eyes and rage on her skin that's tangible in the air, mixing with a rusted tang of blood that’s congealed against her ear as she just stands there, rooted and willing herself to calm down.

The reflected image twists and contorts with each unsteady breath that she takes, the splash of each droplet of water that drips from the tap matching the pace of her lungs.

Drip.

Like a ticking clock. The prelude to the explosion.

She can’t let it slide this time, let her get away with this. Her mind has cashed its last rain check on Kali’s bullshit. It’s time the woman faces the wrath that's due, before she gets someone killed, gets her own team killed.

No biting her tongue anymore, brawling across the briefing room table or petitioning Six to see sense and dispose of the threat that is Nighthaven.

She’s done playing nice.

And sure enough, outside the door comes the muffled bragging of the soon to be victim of Eliza’s snapped tether.

Ash pushes off from the sink with aching fists held closed and nails biting into her palm, giving herself one last chance to just back off, to simply walk away from what she’s about to do.

But if there is any sign to stop she doesn't see it. Her reflection in the mirror steadies but offers up no rejection. The fight or flight wheel stops with the arrow pointing on the former.

This has been too long coming now to just stop.

Consequences from Six be damned, Eliza leaves the washroom and lets the heavy firedoor swing shut behind her with a loud thud. Eyes lock to hers in an instant from the sound, but she pays them no mind, her gaze settles on her target and tunnels her vision.

“This won’t be good, Cohen looks ready to kill.”

Dokkabei mutters under her breath to Thatcher, the elder operator nodding thickly in agreement and making no move to stop what's about to happen.

“Don’t worry kid, it won’t go that far.”

Dokkabei just holds her arms together to stop them trembling, the pain from being lit up with non-lethal fire is still raging throughout her body otherwise she would be falling into line with Ash right now to give Kali a piece of her mind too. She deserves it after that shitshow of a win.

The two simply watch on in tense silence as Eliza thunders across the changing room and shoves past Mozzie, the man distracted from helping Mira out of her BDU at the time. He swears loudly from the rough contact, barely able to stop himself from careening into Elena who is more focused on trying to get past him to stop Eliza rather than help steady him.

She’s seen that look in Cohen’s eyes before, it’s never good.

“Kali!” Ash spits, enough venom in just that one word to slay a man where he stood.

Kali has her back to her and mutters something to Aruni which makes the woman laugh.

“You will turn and face me when I address you, Mercenary scum!”

A tense silence settles over the room, marred only by the sounds of Ash’s heavy breathing.

But Kali just continues to chuckle, shaking her head a little at the crass words, rolling her eyes at Aruni. It’s only when she can physically feel the presence of Ash in her personal space that she turns around, quite lazilly too, and looks down to the smaller woman who is seething up at her.

“What could possibly be upsetting you now Red?”

“I don’t know how you do things in the private sector-” her voice trembles a little, rage barely even contained, “-but we do NOT use people as bait here!”

“Why the sour face Princess? This is a game, and I just won it for you.” Kali smirks, brow quirked in clear amusement. “Rather easily I might add to.”

“This, this is not a game you ignorant, reckless piece of-”

“Oh relax will you!”

“Relax?!” Ash scoffs, fists shaking violently against her sides. “I warned Six that you’ll get someone killed. And today you just proved me right. Game or no fucking game, I won’t stand by and let you send anyone here to an early grave because you only care about yourself.”

“So dramatic! Like it or not, Nighthaven is here to stay. I am here to stay. And there is nothing, not one little thing, that you can do about it. So finish your little temper tantrum and stop embarrassing yourself.”

Kali quips, one finger pushing against the crest of Ash’s chest plate.

And that's all it takes.

A finger, mistakenly brushing against the trigger, and Ash explodes.

No one can stop her, it happens too fast for anyone to register, least of all Kali.

One moment she’s staring down at Ash, the next she’s looking up at her from the floor, haphazardly strewn against one of the benches. Arms are on her in an instant trying to help her up, but the punch from the fiery field team leader has sent her head to the stars, she can’t hear a thing past the ringing in her ear.

And Eliza doesn’t stop there, she lunges at her with all the ferocity of a wild animal and the strength of an ox. Ready and willing to unleash the last year of pent up anger and frustration and pummel it into her face.

The two crash backwards and roll about, punching and lashing at each other like it's a fight for their lives. And by all odds Kali should have the upperhand against the woman with a smaller frame, but Ash brings a fight like no other she’s ever faced, and for the first time since she was shot in the field, Kali experiences fear.

She cries out in anguish, managing to land a shot that busts Eliza’s nose open and unleashes a fountain of blood. But it doesn’t slow the woman, she keeps going for her, scoring hit after hit until the wind is taken from Kali’s lungs and she’s choking on the air and her own blood.

“ELIZA, THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Rough arms yank her from Kali’s barely conscious form and she fights hard to get back to her before she feels herself be lifted up from the ground, legs swinging and kicking violently to try and break free.

There’s yelling all around and people rushing to block her view from Kali, but she can still make out her face and somehow Kali is still managing a smug grin up at her, it’s marred by all the blood and bruising but still going strong.

Ash screams bloody murder, wriggling and throwing herself about, but whoever holds her is strong and they don’t let go.

“Get her out of here!” Thatcher calls back over his shoulder as he gets between Dokkaebi and Aruni, the two seemingly squaring up to fight.

It would seem in the chaos of Ash and Kali’s brawl the rest of the Nighthaven members had initiated a fight, with some of Rainbow all too eager to oblige.

“Follow me!” Mira gestures to Finka who is the one struggling to hold Ash whilst looking for the quickest exit.

The rest is just a blur for Ash though, she’s so blinded and entombed by her own rage that she doesn’t even notice she’s being taken from the room, half carried/half dragged out of the changing room and somehow making it to the medical wing in the blink of an eye.

Her gaze is wide, adrenaline still begging her to fight even though the threat is no longer in sight, she doesn’t even hear what Mira is saying to Finka right now.

“Where do you want her?” The woman chuckles, keeping her head back to avoid a blow from Eliza’s.

“Put her in the examination room, I’ll take it from there. I suspect Mike is going to need your help stopping them all from tearing each other to pieces.” Mira commands, her own voice shaky from what she’s just witnessed.

She curses Six under her breath and pinches the bridge of her nose.

Eliza continues to fight to get out of Finka’s grasp, only succeeding once Finka has struggled to get her past the threshold of the room door. But when she goes to charge back out in search of Kali again, Mira stands in her way, hands on her hips and concern very much evident in her expression.

Ash comes to a halt immediately, eyes wide in a mix of rage and fear, hands still held tightly wound by her side and the shaking somehow more violent than when it first started. She’s a complete mess, blood dripping from her likely broke nose down her chest, hair disheveled and gear shifted out of place, ripped straps hanging awkwardly off her body from where Kali got a hold of them.

Neither her or Mira say anything until Finka closes the door behind her and leaves them to deathly silence.

Mira lowers her hands to her side and just waits, quietly watching her wife struggle to take in breaths as her brain catches up to what she’s done.

And after a tense minute or so of glaring at her, the fire goes out of Cohen, Eliza whimpering from the pain and turning in on herself as her body comes out of it.

“What have I done …” She breathes out, cradling her own stomach and willing it to settle so she doesn’t hurl. Already she can feel the bruises forming on her ribs and abdomen.

“What you had to, querida.” Elena affirms, breathing a sigh of relief now she knows it's safe to approach the woman she loves.

Sure, she’s seen Eliza angry before, but that was something completely different that she had with Kali, a power born from something deep rooted and likely traumatic, something they’ll definitely have to talk about soon. It terrified her to see that, almost making her flee from the woman herself until she remembered just who Eliza was, how sweet and gentle the woman she married actually was behind her guarded walls.

Oh they’ll talk alright about this, just not now. Right now Eliza needs gentle care.

Elena lets out a soft sigh and very slowly encircles Eliza with her arms, giving the woman time to accept the embrace or reject it if that's what she needs, being careful not to aggravate any injury also.

And sure it takes a moment, Eliza stiffening from the contact and starting to pull away, but Elena stands firm, drawing her in and acting as an anchor for the taller woman. She has no choice really but to give in, all but collapsing against Elena now who falls back a little and slides down the door and onto the floor, somehow managing to keep hold of Eliza the entire time.

“It’s ok, you’re ok.” Elena murmurs, running her hand through the length of her hair, deft fingers working through the knots and loosening the braid.

Eliza shudders in relief, quietly sobbing and heaving her way through every breath as she clings to Elena with battered hands, seemingly terrified that the woman will let her go if she doesn’t keep such a tight grip.

“I shouldn’t have- I could- could have killed her!”

“But you didn’t.”

There's a further moment of silence, Eliza shuddering as Elena works wonders on her aching head. Each stroke is soft and gentle, applying just enough pressure to relieve the budding headache that's rising up to join the chorus of pain wracking through her.

“I wanted to, Elena. I couldn’t stop myself.” She whispers after a few more minutes pass.

“But you didn’t kill her querida. Kali will be fine. This will all blow over.” Mira tries to affirm, voice gentle as ever despite the uncertainty.

“It won’t though, it can’t … not after this. Six will-”

“Don’t you worry about him. I will deal with Six.”

Again, more silence. They stay like that for a long while, just quietly breathing and taking in the comfort of the embrace, Elena discreetly counting each breath her wife takes and placing gentle kisses against her forehead when they finally slow down enough after what feels like half an hour or so.

“It felt good though, right?” Elena murmurs, failing to keep the amusement from her tone as she breaks the silence.

“Are you asking me if it felt good to punch Kali?”

“Well, yeah …”

Eliza pulls away and looks up at her in confusion, the two quietly studying each other before Eliza’s face finally cracks, both dissolving into mad laughter that's fueled by the residual adrenaline.

“God, that fear in her eyes when you toppled her with one hit. It was glorious.” Elena grins.

But Eliza groans, burying her head into Elenas chest and trying/failing to suppress the smile.

“It was satisfying to wipe that smirk from her face, if only for a moment.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Shouldn’t you be mad at me? I expected a lecture?”

“I thought about it, but I’d be a hypocrite since on more than one occasion i’ve threatened the bitch with the same thing myself.”

“Quite a few occasions actually, last week was twice at least.”

The laughter returns, softer this time and fleeting.

“You think she’ll try to press charges or something?” Eliza sighs.

“Hmmm,” Elena deliberates for a moment, “I doubt it, Six wouldn’t let it come to that. Though, I would love to be a fly on the wall when he calls you both to his office.”

Eliza groans, it’s not going to be fun dealing with the consequence of this shit, but at least she can pull the ‘told you so’ card on Six. So maybe it was worth it after all?

“That’s not going to be fun.”

“Nope.”

Eliza lets out a long suffering sigh, groaning when her ribs protest that but strangely not the laughter.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re a bloodied mess.” Elena scoffs, nose wrinkling in feigned disgust.

“What? Don’t find me pretty anymore?” Eliza pouts, the effect lost by how gnarly she is looking in that moment covered in blood.

“Hmph! Pretty annoying more like.” Elena quips back, devilish smile on her lips.

“Rude.”

Despite how rough she feels, Eliza can’t help herself, she pushes their mouths together, wincing when her ailing nose brushes Elena’s. They kiss, soft at first, getting a little more heated when Eliza’s hands start to wonder, lowering to her chest and lifting up under her-

“Ouch!”

Elena just sighs gently, pulling away and rolling her eyes at Eliza who is looking at the bruises on her hands with a frown.

“Right, up! Let’s see if we can save something of that face of yours.” Elena cups her chin, smearing a little of the blood with a gentle sigh.

“Yes, the pain is outweighing the satisfaction at the moment.”

“I’m sure it is …, I love you, even if you are an idiot.”

“Love you too.”

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six #ash/mira #ash x mira #r6s ash #r6s mira #ITS TERRIBLE BUT I TRIED #its on AO3 too #yall know my name by now on there #if not check my blog header

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

A Zhang Of Redness ~ Yin Zhen x Reader

Warning: The first part has some angst to fluff, yet, if you’re brave enough to read the “Sad Ending”, then I warn you, I cried at least 6 times reading it, and 5 times at night, thinking about how to write it properly, all while listening to sad flute and zither ancient Chinese songs. I may need help.

Also, I forgot to explain, in case people don’t know:

Meimei - Term for younger sister. Jiejie - Term for older sister. Niangniang - Term for someone above in title, like an Empress or a Noble Consort. Changzai - First-Class Female Attendant, called ‘Present’, and was the 2nd lowest title in the harem. Daying - Second-Class Female Attendant, called ‘Promise’, lowest title in the harem. Hua Fei - It can vary as a title, but it refers to an Imperial Noble Consort. A Zhang of Redness - One of the 5 punishments from Qing Dynasty : Beating someone over the back, butt or the back of their legs with a some sort of bamboo or wooden bat/cane/rod until the tendons/muscles/bones were crushed, there was lots of blood, and the person either died or became paralysed from waist down.

Also, I got inspiration from watching the Chinese Period Drama ‘Empresses in the Palace/Legend of Zhen Huan’ that focuses on the Harem during the reign of Emperor Yongzheng, aka Yin Zhen, the 4th Prince, and Duke Guo is the 17th Prince, his brother, very young, and very close to him

“Now, Y/N, you and your sisters are of age, so you must go serve the Emperor. It will bring our family the greatest honour should you be selected as a concubine for the Emperor and bring a Prince into this world.” the father put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, making her look at him with a blank expression, masking her disdain and disgust with excellence. “We are honoured to serve and serve our family and His Majesty, the Emperor.” she bowed gracefully, speaking with an adult maturity that many would envy. “Very well. Take care of your sisters. The Palace is a cruel place, but you, above all, must prevail and bring your sisters up with you.” were the last words her father spoke before sending off his three daughters into the carriage, ready to go with the ‘reaping��, as the eldest would call it.

Unlike her younger siblings, she prayed not to be accepted, since it would be the worst thing that could happen to her and she’d rather die than have to live in eternal imprisonment, having an old man touch her body and impregnate her, despite him being the Emperor himself.

When the three of them arrived at the Palace, and she saw the swarm of girls dressed the same, with the same accessories and hairstyles, she almost felt like puking, although she couldn’t blame them, since that’s how this lame fashion dictates.

She was the only one standing out, much like a sore thumb, completely different, both in appearance and clothing, which made her anxious and nervous, knowing very well how she will be the target of bullying, and in turn, deflect it to her unfortunate sisters as well.

Y/N was the only woman with vibrant red hair and green eyes like the evergreen forest, for her father is an Imperial merchant, and her mother was a foreigner, the most beautiful being alive, that could even compare to the Gods, and yet, the very same Gods she worshipped were cruel to her, as when she gave birth to the twins, she perished, leaving her husband heartbroken and alone to take care of his three daughters.

She didn’t wear any headpiece, nor had any intricate hairstyles, preferring to keep the upper part of her hair in a beautiful rose bun, while the lower part was let loose to cascade past her shoulders, down to her waist, like a fire waterfall. She didn’t use heavy make up, only choosing to highlight her eyes and bring out the shrewdness and brilliance in them. She didn’t wear any jewellery, save for some beautiful pink flowers carefully placed in her hair. She didn’t wear heels, for she was taller than most petite girls, and didn’t want to stand out more than she already did, and of course, she didn’t need them to highlight her grace and dignity. And, most of all, she didn’t wear the traditional clothes that every girl did, instead, worse a long, flowy dress, green, with flowers of a darker, more vibrant green - A dress that suit her like she was the embodiment of Spring, and her slender silhouette was shown off beautifully - Because, after all, this was the dress her mother sew specifically for her in the period while she was pregnant.

When the time finally came for her to present herself in front of the Emperor and the Empress Dowager, the six women walked in a straight line, in front of the Imperials...Only to see a little surprise.

Seven of his sons were there to attend, for one of them were to one day become Emperor, and they must know how things must be done.

“You...You are Y/N, I see. When your father mentioned you were beautiful, just like your mother, I couldn’t believe there could be someone even greater than Diaochan or Yang Guifei.” the Emperor chuckled, looking down at her. “Your Majesty, pardon my rudeness, yet truly, you must jest. My face does not put flowers to shame, nor does it embarrass Mother Moon herself. Likewise, I would say I that...That there are other women in history that would fit me better, should you truly wish to compare me.” she could feel the intrigued, burning gazes of everyone, and it took everything she had not to visibly gulp or show any kind of emotion. “Raise, child, and look at me. Who would you think I should compare you to?” the Emperor so gracefully talked, with the same dignity that any Imperial must have, yet now, it seemed to be warmer. “Tan Yunxian.” she spoke bluntly, her green eyes not wavering as she held eye contact with the Emperor. “Tan Yunxian...You are a bold one to speak like that. You are a sharp woman, intelligence is obviously sparkling in your eyes, you know what you want from life, and you choose to be branded a witch by practicing the medical arts that only men do and risk death, instead of aiming for a peaceful and resourceful life as a wealthy concubine and bring honour to your father. Why is that?” he asked once again, which made her bow, but not look away from him. “Most people tell the gender of a rabbit by its movement: The male runs quickly, while the female often keeps her eyes shut. But when the two rabbits run side by side, Can you really discern whether I am a he or a she? That is my reply to your question, and I would beg you to forgive my rudeness by speaking so directly, but this was never the life that fit me. The only arts that suit me are the exact ones - Healing, Calculus, Atrology, Physics, Alchemy...My sisters are much better at the arts of the heart, but I prefer to make a difference on this world. Too many women preferred to let themselves die because of scrutiny - A woman should rather starve to death than lose her chastity - they said, yet, for me, life is a sacred gift and should be treasured above all. There are no female physicians in the palace, Your Majesty, and males cannot fully comprehend the pains of a woman, nor can they properly treat one. With your grace, should you choose not to kill me, I would very much like to serve the Emperor with the way fate dictated my strengths.” she spoke without any hint of fear in her heart, already waiting for her death penalty to be told, and yet, the Emperor chuckled and looked to his right, sharing a look with one of his sons, the one dressed in vibrant gold, the one whose eyes resembled his the most. “My son, I see you are interested in this one as well. Tell me, what would you do, should you meet someone as peculiar as this one?” the Emperor asked, letting him have the final say in it. “She quotes the Ballad of Mulan so boldly, as if she herself is Mulan. Do you remember, Father, that in some stories, when Mulan was forced to join the Harem, she chose to commit suicide? I see this one none the wiser. With the proper training, she could prove to save more lives than most of those useless physicians could, I would say. She has enough fire and ambition...But What if she wavers in front of dangers?” the 4th Prince asked, almost rhetorically, only for his older brother, the 3rd Prince, to chime in. “Let’s see, then.” he shrugged, motioning for an eunuch to step forward. “Should you be able to keep looking into my eyes for the whole trial, your position as a physician will be locked.” the 4th Prince mused, his dark eyes peering into her jade like ones, and it seemed almost as if they were in a trance, and nothing around them existed anymore.

The little eunuch threw water at her feet, yet she nonchalantly stepped over it with no second thought. They made loud noises behind her, or close to her ear, yet her only interest was the beautiful dark shade of the Prince’s eyes. The test continued on, until the Prince walked forward and drew his sword, putting the tip under her chin, raising it. The silence created tension for everyone, causing her sisters to gasp and hold tightly onto each other from fear, while some labourers were confused and panicked at the sight before them, while the two only got deeper and deeper enchanted by the other. It wasn’t until one of the Gugu matrons stepped forwards with a cat held in her arms and threw it at the ground violently that the girl slapped the blade away and let herself fall to her knees to catch the poor feline, then rose back again, gently petting and calming the animal, while throwing a harsh glare at the elder woman, before turning back again to the Prince.

“You lost the trial.” he said, yet mischief was glittering in his beautiful eyes. “Life over all. ALL life over all.” she pointed out, stepping closer to the Prince, and as soon as she knew she was completely hidden by his much larger form, she smirked at him, challengingly, which made him scoff in amusement right back at her. “You lost the trial, but won the position with your virtuous, unwavering heart. Father, with your approval, I will be responsible of her, and she will be my personal physician, and the physician of all the women in the palace. Her thinking is mature, righteous and ahead of her times.” the Prince bowed in front of his father, vouching for the girl next to him, who could only look in shock at the Imperial Son who seemed to trust her so. “I dare not deserve such baseless praise. Wait until I have achieved anything of significance.” she bowed next to the Prince, letting the cat go back to its owner. “Very well, I approve of your request. From now on, Lady Y/N shall be promoted to Lady Shuyu, the Wise and Virtuous Lady, she will be taught by the imperial physicians and will report directly to you, 4th Prince. Likewise, she will be staying at the Palace closest to the Imperial Library, yet, I believe I should change its name, since it needs renovation. Do you have any preferences?” the Emperor asked, as the girl was bashfully looking at the ground, not believing that her dreams were finally becoming reality. “Father, if I may, I would suggest - Palace of the Blue Lotus - for it is the symbol of victory, intelligence, wisdom and knowledge, something that My Lady seems to be the embodiment of. I heard it once being called - The Perfection of Wisdom - and I believe it fits her very well. Look at her, with her outfit and hair, she almost looks like a Lotus flower herself, wouldn’t you say?” the 3rd Prince commented, making the Emperor nod in approval. “Very well, I agree with you, 3rd Prince. Then, Lady Y/N, until your Palace is completely renovated, you will be staying at 4th Prince’s Palace and have him look after you.” the Emperor’s order made her eyes widen and cheeks redden from embarrassment, yet she gracefully bowed in thanks for the Emperor. “Your Majesty is benevolent and kind above all, I thank you for giving me a chance.” she spoke in a much softer voice. “Look at this one, she can be anything she wants. A Hua Mulan, a Diaochan...Yet, above all, I believe she could even be the next Wu Zetian, wouldn’t you say, my Son?” the Empress Dowager spoke with a gentle smile, which made the girl gasp and bow to the ground, flustered. “Your Highness, I am undeserving of such praise! I am but a mere woman who wishes the best for her peers, but I will never be able to get close to Wu Zetian’s greatness!” she spoke rapidly, not daring raise her face to them, only to receive chuckles and laughs from the audience. “She may not be the next Wu Zetian, but she may as well be the first Y/N L/N.” the 4th Prince teased the girl as he offered his hand to help her to her feet, before pinching her reddening cheek. “Indeed, indeed! But what should I make of your sisters? You say they are talented in arts, correct? Then, I will accept them, and wait for the time they can heal my soul with their magic and grace.” the Emperor’s eyes held amusement, as all three sisters bowed in unison. “Your Majesty is great and kind above all.”

And so, for the first time in their life, the sisters were separated from each other. While the twins enjoyed a palace to themselves and another high ranked concubine, Y/N was comfortably staying in 4th Prince’s Palace, having just one trusty maid, for more would be a hindrance, and dressing in whatever comfortable clothes she wished to wear, sown by her and her maid.

She wasn’t a fan of sewing, but she practiced it regularly because she believed having dexterous fingers meant you would be a great physician, so she continued her work, using the softest cotton bolts brought from Western countries, and she made a beautiful light pink nightgown along with a pair of shorts and embroidered small purple flowers, and since then, her sleep has been the best she’s ever had... Although the silks from her bed must have added to the comfort as well.

As thanks for the Prince, the girl decided to sew a blue pyjama from the cotton, Western bolts for the Prince with whom she was residing, and used Chinese threads of gold and violet to embroider dragons on it, wanting to make a little play on the Western symbols of royalty.

Days passed way too quickly in the Palace, as the 4th Prince was excellent company and would humour her often with a cup of tea and a lost game of chess since truly, he wasn’t the best at it yet, but the quick exchanges of wit were worth the time spent there.

When she wasn’t by his side, she would go to the swing in the Garden of Peaches all by herself and swing herself high, almost as if she was trying to reach the sky, and when returning, she would let herself lean down, to watch the clouds, all while laughing in complete freedom, just like the tale of the Crane Wife.

Every time she would stop swinging, she would take out her jade flute and, unbeknownst to her, the Prince would hide just to hear her play with such skill and emotion that it truly moved him, and he had to admit, the saddest song she played, Autumn Moon over Han Palace, the one that truly depicts the cruelty with which the young and innocent souls of young women get crushed in the palace, only to be rewarded with misfortunes and sorrow, and he knew then that there was no way he would let anyone harm her.

The Emperor made him look after her, and so, he will.

“4th Prince, now that I shall not be living in your Palace anymore, I should thank you for your hospitability and kindness for the time I bothered you and invaded your privacy. Please accept my humble gifts for you, as a thank you for all the goodness you’ve showed me.” she personally handed him the boxes of gifts, since it was too personal to let her maid handle this matter. “I thank you for the gifts, yet you need not thank me for something so trivial. Congratulations in moving in your own Palace, little Lotus, but don’t forget that this has been your home too, and you are always welcomed here. I have also sent you gifts at your new residence, I wish you will use them with a smile on your face.” the prince spoke, putting the boxes on the table and petting her hair gently. “Without all the snark and witty comments, I almost don’t recognise you, Yin Zhen. Could you perhaps be ill?” she scoffed in amusement, making the man flick her forehead. “Going by how red your cheeks are, I’d say you’re the one who caught a fever.” he spoke with an obvious undertone. “How rude of you, Prince! Don’t you know it’s unfair to tease a lady?” she pointed out with a flustered scowl on her face. “Sister, weren’t you the one who once that that if a man teases a woman, he must be in love with her?” a soft, yet playful voice came from behind Y/N, which made her yelp in surprise and turn around in shock. “You’re horrible sisters, you know that, don’t you? I only said that so you’d feel good about your little, young selves, when the general’s son came over to visit father!” she sighed, looking away. “He doesn’t matter anymore! Now, look at you, the most favoured woman in the Palace by the Emperor, the Empress, the Dowager AND the Princes! We couldn’t compete with that, even now that we both served the Emperor and we were barely given the title of “Changzai”, and that’s mostly thanks to your influence and the fact that you helped the Lady of Morality give birth to the Princess.” Liyan spoke out, tugging on one of the arms of the elder sister. “It’s a bit weird if you think about it. Y/N Jiejie is over here, falling for the Emperor’s son, while we are pillow mates with the Emperor. He’s older than father!” Xiyan spoke so shamelessly, tugging on the other arm, that it made the poor elder sister blush deeply, and putting her hands on the back of their heads, she hit their heads together. “Liyan Meimei and Xiyan Meimei should learn how to be less vulgar and have some shame! Now, if you would excuse me, I must go do a regular check up on the Noble Consort’s pregnancy, I have no time for your foolish nonsense. I bid you all farewell.” she gave a sarcastic bow to the three before rushing out of that place. “I haven’t seen Jiejie so flustered before. Remember when that young poet came over and started playing the zither and singing for her, and she still turned him down?” Xiyan giggled, intertwining her fingers with her twin. “Yes, I remember! And it was the famous JiKang, the best zither player in the country! It’s a pity, really, I remember Jiejie saying how much she’d have liked to be free and travel the world, but she has to honour her duty to her family, otherwise she will be a disgrace and get killed.” Liyan sighed, looking away. “If your sister heard you gossiping like that about her, she’d get very upset at you. Now run along, you two.” Yin Zhen commented with a hint of playfulness, ushering the two sisters to scatter.

Days and nights went by fast, and Y/N was quickly climbing the ranks of a physician due to her hard working and witty disposition, and yet, when winter came and snow started falling hard, and the Consort was now 5 months pregnant, and need to have her regular check up. As Y/N gave her the medicine to drink, the consort started screaming in pain and collapsed on the bed, her nether regions bleeding. She was having a miscarriage. With the help of a few maids and physicians, she managed to stop the bleeding and keep her stable, but she knew very well it would be hell once everyone finds out about the loss of the Imperial offspring...

And the consort was a truly vengeful one.

“How could you...?! How could you?! You insolent wretch, you made me lose my child!” the consort was livid, thrown things at the girl who was trying to calm her down. “Hua Fei Niangniang, what have you been eating and drinking recently? Perhaps there may have been something put in your food or tea? Or perhaps the fragrances or incenses?” she tried to ask, but it was to no avail. The consort was so upset that the Emperor himself, along with the Empress, the Dowager, the Harem and the Princes had to come and console her. “Emperor! Emperor! This stupid bitch is jealous that you favour me and made sure I have a miscarriage! It happened just as I drank the medicine from her!” the consort threw herself in the Emperor’s arms, sobbing loudly. “Medicine takes at least half a day to act, and you barely took a sip from it. I’m asking again, has your food and drink intake been properly taken care of?” Y/N asked once again, in a gentle voice, hoping to have an answer...But none came, only screeches. “You vile devil! You came here to have all women of the Harem miscarry! You want favour all to yourself! That’s why you walk around the Princes like a fox, drawing them in! You’re a lust demon! Get the guards and take her! Make her punishment be fitting to her hair! A Zhang of Redness!” she shrieked, making all the women gasp in shock. “Your Highness, I have nothing to do with Niangniang’s miscarriage. You can have any physician look over the tea I prepared and all the prescriptions I gave her, and none of them hold any abortifacient plants. I rest my case, and I will investigate the causes of the miscarriage, and should it have been my mistake, I will accept such a punishment. If not, then I beg for Your Majesty’s mercy.” Y/N bowed deeply to the ground in front of the Emperor, who seemed to nod in understanding. “Very well. I won’t offer you much time, but until then, you have all resources at hand. Everyone is dismissed.” and thus, they all left...Except for the 4th Prince who crouched and helped the girl up, his expression unreadable. “You truly know how to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” he spoke with obvious concern. “Though I withdraw my sword to cut the water, it still runs. I toast to dispel worry, and create more worry…The water still flows, though we cut it with our swords, And sorrow returns, though we drown it with wine…” she muttered, looking ahead of her, in the void of emptiness that became her heart. “You once said you were not talented in arts, yet here you are, quoting Li Bai. You will always be a surprise, won’t you?” Yin Zhen cast her a half smile, which she returned. “It only fits. Now go. The Emperor will have my head should I let a man rummage through a woman’s belongings.” she sighed, turning around to investigate the place, while hearing the taunts of the consort...Until she found a cup that oddly smelled like green papaya, and a mortar and pestle that still had some cinnamon and pomegranate seeds powder in it. Afraid that the consort would realise she found the incriminatory objects, she took out a bag and threw it on the table, feigning that she putting all her medical belongings back in the bag, only to have the cup and mortar taken as well, and with a bow, she hurried to her Palace to study them.

She didn’t know much about such plants since they weren’t exactly used in medicine, and yet, she had to study them, while hiding the bag with incriminatory objects very well.

It was a cold, yet beautiful snowy night, and Y/N felt so crushed by fear from the recent events, that without realising, stepped outside, her feet dragging her to Yin Zhen’s Palace, and she had no idea until his Eunuch spoke to her, welcoming her inside and scolding her for not wearing something warmer, before having the maids prepare tea and telling the Prince about her arrival.

Silence took over them as they played chess and drinking tea, yet her mind was somewhere else completely, making her lose for the first time...But he wasn’t surprised in the least.

“What did you find out?” he asked bluntly. “Do you hate me, Yin Zhen?” she asked, using one of her silver ring claws to stir the tea in her cup. “Why would you ask something like that...? Do you suspect me of framing you, or what?” he asked, shock obvious in his voice, until he realised the tears that were falling down her face. “Then...Why...? I...I thought you...Of all people...Wouldn’t...” Y/N was unable of cursive, coherent words as she raised her finger to eye level, showing that the silver claw became back. “I did NOT poison your tea! Shu Pei Gong, who prepared this tea? I want them brought here and held responsible right now!” the rage the Prince felt was immense, but he knew now to let feelings overtake his ration. “What did I do to deserve such hatred...? I’m not part of the harem, I never hurt anyone, I’ve always been respectful and helped everyone, I never wished for promotions, titles, ranks or favours...So why...Why...?! Why is this happening to me?!” she cried out, her heart suffering greatly, enough so that before he could say anything, she ran out again, taking a shortcut through the Plum garden, where she let herself fall to the ground, the freezing cold unbothering to her, as she felt as cold as ice from the constant heartache she suffered.

She hated the colour red, it was everywhere, yet people didn’t understand why she’d despise such a beautiful colour. It was the colour of her hair, the colour of Maple leaves, the colour of Plum blossoms, and of course, the colour of blood.

Blood, for that’s all she was seeing - Laying there, on the pure white snow, crystals falling from the sky, covering her in a soft blanket, the shade of her skin, contrasting her hair, her flowers and...The blood from her injury.

But as the dark abyss of death started taking over her senses, she saw two little jades that appeared and disappeared just like shy will’o’wisp spirit orbs.

What was in her head, running away like that, in the dead of such a freezing night, and why the Plum Garden that is like a crimson maze that could have served as her resting place.

Who would have known she would be so sensitive, Yin Zhen thought, and yet, he is her confidante, and she thought he poisoned her, which would be a shock for everyone, especially after everything going on in her life.

She looked so petite in his large bed, in his own pyjamas, as her own clothes were soaked from the snow and she’s already shivering, the last thing he’d want is for her to get deadly ill.

“Your Majesty, a blow to the back of her head with a blunt object cause her collapse and fainting, but the coldness worsened her health. She will need to rest and take medicine regularly. And...As much as possible, she must not stress, mentally, emotionally or physically.” the physician bowed to the Prince as he sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly brushing away the hair from her face. “Easier said than done when you’re dealing with such a stubborn hard-head...You may go now. I will look after her.” the Prince dismissed the physician who kowtow-ed and left the place that got quiet...So quiet...Save for her unconscious shivering. “What will I do with you, Y/N? How can I save you when you run away from me?” he muttered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “You should have left me there.” a soft whisper was her, as the girl opened her glistering eyes. “Don’t speak such nonsense.” he scolded her, yet his eyes were gentle. “What is death if not a blessing in disguise? For unfortunate people like me, only followed by misfortune...What is there to live for? Instead of investigating her case, I should have let her punish me. It would have been less painful than my discovery.” her voice was devoid of any life, yet the tears that delicately made their ways down her cheeks were enough proof of sorrow and heart break. “What are you talking about, Y/N? What did you discover?” he asked, his attention not wavering from her. “Wu Zetian? Diaochan? Hua Mulan? Tan Yunxian? Yang Guifei? What the hell was in my head? The only thing I could share with them is a broken heart. Why did I even dare to think that I, as a woman, would have any chance to achieve happiness and freedom? I can’t even try to be Lin Siniang, for I have no martial arts, and I can’t go and die in battle for someone. I’m completely and utterly useless.” the girl sighed, turning her back to the Prince, letting her hair drape over her face to avoid being seen. “Y/N, I am your confidante, tell me what happened. When you feel like you can’t trust anyone, not even your family, or the world, I will be here to listen and be honest with you, no matter what. I promise.” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair to calm her down, yet in only generated in her sobbing. “When I was struck and fell, I feigned being dead. I kept my eyes half-open, and I didn’t blink. I stopped breathing and looked up at the sky. And despite my blurring vision, I saw a pair of green orbs. And then, I heard a giggle, and a word. Just one word. You know what it was? They said - Finally - and then left. Do you understand what I mean, Yin Zhen?” she asked, letting go of him and looking him straight in the eyes. “You don’t mean...?” his eyes widened with surprise, not having expected something like that. “When I investigated the consort’s room, I found a cup that smelled of papaya and a mortar with cinnamon and pomegranate seeds. When she wasn’t looking, I stole them and went home to read more about these. My sisters visited me that night and we discussed about those items...And it was then that I found out that those plants cause natural, spontaneous abortions. They said they were worried about me...And then...They snitched on me to the consort. My maid warned me there were suspicious people lurking around so I secretly left my Palace and came to yours after taking the longest and darkest route. Somehow, they managed to make me paranoid enough by poisoning my tea in your own house...And I got scared and ran away. I was going to seek refuge at the Dowager, until the consort’s eunuch found me and yanked me over the head. That’s when I saw my sister’s eyes...The very same eyes that I hold...And most likely, they stole the items from my Palace and disposed of them...So what is there to live for, anyway?” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, weeping silently. “You have me and I will help you out. I won’t let anyone punish you, I promise you that.” he cupped her face, making her look at him with her sad, doe-like eyes. “Even if I escape punishment, who can mend my shattered heart? My father never supported my passions, so I did everything in secret...And my own sisters plotted and went against me, for some reason that I’m completely unaware of, considering I always took care of them, sent them any riches I had and got them out of trouble...And there’s no way I will ever escape the hell from the harem wrath, even if I’m not part of it. I am lost with no place to call home and nobody to love me. I should just go end myself with some wine, out in the Plum Garden. It would be a very fitting end with no pain. Very beautiful...Maybe some music would have made it perfect - “ she kept talking in self-deprecation, not realising how it upset the man in front of her, until he stopped her by kissing her with enough fire to begin the melting process over the frozen pieces of her heart, “Stop speaking like that, you are upsetting me. How can I marry you and spend the rest of my life with you by my side, if you let the world get to you and kill you?” he was scolding her in a gentle manner, his hand on top of her head, putting his forehead to hers. “How can I not, when my own sisters, that I raised and took care of since mother died, plotted my death and were happy to see me fall? My own family, Yin Zhen! How can I bare with that?!” her voice was full of emotions of all kinds, desperate to have someone to cling on. “Those who wish ill on you are not your family, even though you are bound by blood. You have me, Y/N. I vow to you, I would never leave you alone. I will always be there for you, no matter what, and I will never let anyone hurt you again.” the man said, making the girl sigh and shake her head. “What are you trying to say, Yin Zhen? There’s only so long until you’ll become the Emperor. Even if you want to, you won’t have the time to even remember I exist. And you will be busy with all your concubines every night. Don’t vow what cannot happen, or you will anger the Gods. Be realistic. You know how I am. I refuse to bare children, I refuse to deal with the harem. I will get jealous, and in the end, you will end up hurting me more than my own family did.” she hung her head, wiping away the stray tears. “When I become Emperor, I will be able to do anything I want to. It’s true, I will need heirs, but that’s what the harem is about, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold you in my arms every night. You will be Empress, and you will help me with matters of the Palace. If the Consort can deal with the harem now, she can do so when I reign as well. Not to mention, the current Empress favours you, she will be kind with you once she becomes Dowager.” he explained reassuringly, which made her look up at him slowly. “Do you vow you always love me the most and have me and only me as your priority? And you will listen to me when I talk. And we will still hang out at midnight in the Cherry Garden, we will still go swimming, or swinging in the Peach Garden, we will still play the Zither and Flute together and you will still compliment me over the littlest things, no matter what?” Y/N spoke a bit more harshly, to get her point across, which only made the man chuckle. “I vow that I will still be your Confidante, and you will be mine, and things between us won’t change even when I become Emperor. Who else could sew me such comfortable pyjamas and then wear them much better than I do?” he pinched her cheek before kissing her forehead tenderly. “That’s because I have style. Now...Tell me, what should I do?” and her reply came in the form of a scoff of amusement as the Prince pulled her to his chest, making her sit on his lap. “Sometimes I wish you were more ruthless, little fox. But it’s fine, I will be ruthless enough for the both of us. Just trust me, and tomorrow, we’ll go together and prove your innocence once and for all.” he declared in a voice fit for an Emperor, before putting one hand on the back of her neck, while the other was on her waist, and pulling her flush against his chest, he kissed her, gently at first, to make sure she wouldn’t shatter in front of him like a precious china doll, only to gradually become more and more passionate.

And once again, just like when they first met, they locked tender gazes and got lost in their own paradise - You are mine and you can only be mine - He’d think, just for a split second, as he continued kissing and touching her skin, softer than any cloud.

The next day marked the beginning of his vow, as she woke up with his arms draped around her small form and him stroking her hair gently, before they got dressed properly and went to her palace, the Blue Lotus, only to find her maid freaking out and checking her for any injuries.

When they explained to her what happened, Shi Lian grinned and ran to fetch a bag that she buried in a secret place under the snow, revealing the incriminatory objects that she risked so much for. The maid then pointed out that some eunuchs came over and tried to search the place, with the help of one of her sisters, only to find nothing and return fearfully to the noble consort, their mission failed.

Wait until they see she isn’t dead, really.

And so, Yin Zhen baited the sisters into going to the consort’s house, and told the Emperor to wait outside of the door and listen, only interfering if and when he sees fit.

“4th Prince, what ever could be the reason for summoning us like that?” the consort asked with a feign-innocent smirk o her face. “I believe it’s high time to finish investigating a crime, correct, consort? The mystery behind your miscarriage?” Yin Zhen’s eyes were sharp, yet victorious. “Ahh, yes, but wasn’t it confirmed to be that woman physician’s negligence?” she preferred to fake admiring her hand jewellery, instead of looking at the prince. “That is quite the narrative you painted, isn’t it? Painted with her blood, and the blood of my father’s offspring. Clearly, there is no shameful level of low-ness that you wouldn’t stoop to, just to gain my father’s attention and favour, isn’t it? Even going as far as to frame the only physician who would properly be able to heal you and the women of the Palace. She fought hard to convince my Imperial Father, the Emperor, to allow her to be a medicine practitioner, with you in her mind, not her own well-being. You must truly be cruel and desperate to want to get the Emperor’s favour that badly, again. You must know you’re getting old and ugly, and you won’t be my Father’s favourite anymore...And his favourites will be the newer concubines...Like Y/N’s sisters, who have unique, green eyes, unlike all the other women here.” the Prince hit the nail spot on, making the consort look at him with fear and indignation. “U-Uhm, Prince, I know you favoured Y/N Jiejie, but why are you dragging us into this?” Liyan asked cautiously. “Because the consort came to you with an alliance - If you get rid of Y/N, you won’t bully the sisters for being young and favoured. However, the sisters were jealous of Y/N of having favour from everyone without having to conform to the norms every woman has to, for she is not a concubine, therefore, she had nothing to fight for except your lives. To think that her own sisters that she took care of would plot her own demise without a single speck of regret. You caught her when she was most vulnerable, alone, in the Plum Garden, then had some eunuch strike her over the head with a wooden bat. Truly horrific to think family would behave like this.” the Prince played the detective part, explaining the story he heard from the girl herself. “What gives you the right to accuse us of such treacheries?! We would never hurt Jiejie!” Xiyan growled at the man, only for a surprise to happen, as the woman in cause entered the scene dramatically. “Wouldn’t you?” Y/N asked in a low voice, earning gasps of shock from the 3 other women. “J-Jiejie! You’re alright! You’re alive!” Xiyan’s lips quivered, as her eyes were darting between her sister and the consort. “Why wouldn’t I be alive, Xiyan Meimei? Was something supposed to happen that would guarantee my imminent death?” Y/N tilted her head slightly to the side, staring deep into her sister’s eyes, searching for the truth. “N-No, of course not! Why ever would you claim something so cruel?” Xiyan chuckled nervously, walking a few feet backwards. “All my life I thought myself the family disappointment since I never was the perfect woman that father wanted me to be, to bring honour to the family...But I know for sure that I never raised a liar or a traitor. You are a disappointment. To think you’d partner up with the consort to kill me, and then, when I talked to you about the evidence I found in her palace, you’d try to kill me and steal the objects. My maid is my family more than you ever were.” Y/N shook her head in disappointment, taking out the bag, which made the three women widen their eyes in horror, knowing very well what was going to happen. “Look at them, they are already pissing themselves with fear. They know what is in them.” Yin Zhen scoffed at them. “This is the consort’s cup, from which she drank Green Papaya juice...And this is a mortar in which cinnamon and pomegranate seeds were crushed into a powder. All of these are known to naturally induce abortions, so it’s no wonder she had a miscarriage when I gave her the medicine. You wanted the attention and to kill me, so what better way to do so than to frame me, punish me yourself, and have the Emperor hate me and potentially kill me? A Zhang of Redness, you said. How cruel of you, Consort.” Y/N taunted her once again, showing the evidence, putting them on the table. “You’re insane! This is a conspiracy! You have 4th Prince’s and you got him to conspire against me! You’re the worst!” the Consort shrieked at the girl, almost getting physically aggressive, until the Emperor himself stepped in the room. “That’s enough! How shameless can you be? I understand being jealous of the women of the harem, but of someone who is here only to save your lives? Impertinent!” the Emperor’s booming voice resounded throughout the room, drowning out the consort’s whinings for a little while. “Y/N, you have been the wronged one here, I will let their punishment be of your choosing, no matter how harsh. I will take my leave now, I cannot stand to look at these wretches anymore.” and so, he left the place, letting the consort grovel on the ground, helplessly, shrieking in the worst high-pitched voice. “All’s well when it ends well, I’d say.” Y/N muttered, looking at her two little sisters. “What do you two have to say in your defense?” “We are sorry, Y/N Jiejie, we were wrong! Please, forgive us!” the twins jumped on her, hugging her tightly, stunning the poor girl. “How cruel. You know she’s soft hearted so you try to play her again. You are shameless leeches.” Yin Zhen spoke out, seeing the conflict in his lover’s eyes...Only for her to gasp suddenly and widen her eyes in shock. “Finally...Huh? You’re truly the worst...Yin Zhen told me to be more ruthless...Perhaps I should begin now.” with a pained expression on her face, she pushed the sisters away from her, revealing the bleeding stab wound from her abdomen. “How many more times are you going to try to kill me? As many times needed until you finally succeed...But you think a tiny blade like this will do the trick? If poison, a bat to the head and the freezing cold didn’t kill me, this is nothing more than a mosquito’s bite for me.” Y/N looked at Liyan with disgust as she snatches away the dagger by the blade, throwing it away. “Y/N...!” Yin Zhen looked in horror at the wound that kept bleeding and bleeding, staining the green material of her beautiful dress. “This all began when you wanted to punish me with A Zhang of Redness. My hair is red. The Plum blossoms are red. My spilled blood was red as well. Now, it’s your turn. All three of you, I punish you with a Zhang of Redness, and should you live, I will take away all your titles and riches. Hopefully, you will see what I felt when I realised that death would be a blessing, rather than living. Enjoy your lives as paralysed traitors, you three.” despite the single tear straying down her face, Y/N’s eyes were cold and merciless, at least just for then, as hearing her little sisters scream, sob and plea for her to have mercy on them and forgive them was something that unavoidably crushed her, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. “Every day with you is like watching a dramatic tragedy at the opera.” the prince sighed, picking her up carefully and bringing her to his palace, so the physicians would tend to her wound. “Isn’t my life a tragedy enough as it is, without you having to remind me?” she scoffed, turning away from him. “It won’t be anymore, my dear. I promise you.” and with that, Yin Zhen embraced Y/N once again, taking away all her sorrows, at least for the night, and many more other nights.

~~~ I also have a Sad Ending, read at your own risk. If I were you, I wouldn’t read it, but we all know how some need angst to live ~~~

But years passed faster than the blink of an eye, and as the norm asked for, problems still surrounded everyone in the Palace, since it wouldn’t be the Imperial Court otherwise.

It was needless to say was still mourning not having her sisters around anymore, as one of them died, while the other remained paralysed in the Cold Palace, and as soon as her father came by to sell his Western products and found out the fate of his children, he blamed Y/N for being heartless and bringing dishonor to their family by being the complete opposite of what a woman should be.

And so...They weren’t so young anymore, but double the age from when they met, and Yin Zhen now became Emperor Yongzheng, and Y/N was his Empress, just as promised.

At first, he was loyal to his vow - No matter who he’d be forced to visit for the night, he’d still return to her and hold her in his arms until the light of morning creeped through the windows, waking them up, but time is a feeble enemy, and words are easily forgotten.

Daily, became Weekly, just like Weekly, became Monthly.

He would barely come by to visit, let alone spend the night with her, and meals together were as scarce as trustworthy people in the palace.

Every day, she was forced to wake up and get ready to welcome all the concubines who had to pay their respects to her, only to be mocked for not being the Emperor’s favourite anymore.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t complain too much to the Dowager, as she already tried to remind her Son multiple times not to forget and neglect his own Empress, his own wife and beloved for so many ages, and yet, it only worked for a little time, and so, realising how she was being problematic to everyone by complaining about her loneliness, only to get shut down and reminded that that is the fate of any woman...

A woman, more alone now than ever before.

She would often go out to the special places she shared with Yin Zhen, often lost in thought, as memories kept flooding her mind and damaging her heart, only to realise that no matter how much she’d try to keep herself busy, her mind would still fly over to him.

She would try to practice the flute and zither from dusk till dawn, and even to the latest hours in the night, only for him not to even remember she could play, and asking the younger, pretties concubines to play, at all banquets held.

She would practice all kinds of intricate dances, wearing the flowiest of dresses that looked like the river, only to hear that she should settle for clothing fit for her age, and see him dancing with other women in the light of the moon.

She would sew random brocades and threads in whatever piece of garment she could think of, only to then throw it in the fire in frustration, knowing he hasn’t worn anything she’s made for him lately.

She would practice calligraphy until the candles were almost burnt and her eyes were burning from the sleep depravation and straining, only to rip the books apart, noticing the tears, smudges and shakiness on the pages.

For a while, she refused to leave her palace completely, only to realise her thoughts were much darker when alone, so she would walk through the secluded gardens and weep on the now deserted swing from the Peach Garden.

No matter how much she tried, her poor maid, Shi Lian, could never make her happy again, for the only one who can mend a broken heart is the one who threw it to the ground in the first place, but he was too busy with others, and Shi Lian was so angry at the Emperor, pitying the poor woman, especially since she, herself, was married and with children.

But she was happy, and Y/N was at least happy for her good fortune. At least she, her only friend, deserves to be happy.

On one winter day, the Emperor held a banquet, declaring that a famous Zither player would entertain them, and as customs said, the Empress must, too, attend, but big was her shock when she recognised that beautiful and otherwise stoic man with silver hair, whose emotions coloured the worlds while playing the instrument, and she couldn’t help but cry when she heard ‘Autumn Moon over the Han Palace’ and ‘Plum-Blossoms in Three Movements’ , songs which reminded her of her younger self, and the time he started courting her, before she chose duty over happiness and entered the Palace.

What a foolish decision. Instead of living for herself, she always lived for others, which only caused her sorrow and misfortune. Maybe she deserves it, and this is her karma for being such an idiot.

After the banquet was ready, she went to talk to the musician alone, who clearly recognised her as soon as he first laid his eyes upon her still beautiful face.

“Not even time can destroy such beauty. My heart is happy seeing you again, Y/N. And I see you became the Empress.” JiKang spoke, his voice warmer now than with anyone else. “Time is cruel, for it destroys words and promises. I am an Empress over nothing but the ashes of my own heart and the disrespect I receive from everyone. You, however, seem to be thriving as usual. I can only guess how many places you’ve visited thus far, and how much you’ve learned over the years. I truly envy you.” she spoke with sorrow and helplessness. “Women are forced to choose duty over themselves. If you, however, wish to defy all laws, my offer still stands.” he spoke, taking her hands in his, rubbing them comfortingly. “If I could turn back time, I would give up everything, just to be with you. To be free. To have someone who wouldn’t lie to me for decades and then forget I exist. I only wished to learn, love, and be happy...But I suppose I was too greedy to even dare wish for good fortune on myself. Which is why, I cannot leave without first talking to the Emperor. If I leave without another word, he would hunt me down, and kill you, above all else, and that is not something that I would ever wish for. I will tell him to fake my death and get another Empress. If he accepts, I will come with you. If not...Then...” she trailed on, sighing, without having the strength to utter those dreaded words. “Then, I will return to you another time and play songs, to mend your heart.” the Zither player promised, only for a brief silence to take over, as her green eyes, once full of life, like the evergreen forest, were as dead as the ashes of a pine tree. “...There will be no next time.” her sentence was coded, but him, as an emotional person, was the one who understood her the best. “Then I shall create a score and play the ‘Requiem for God’s Caged Bird’ and ‘The Lovely Fox Spirit and The Wavering Dragon’ in your honour, wherever I go.” was his last promise to her, as he watched her small form become no more in front of his very eyes.

And it was true, he never saw her, for the discussion between the Emperor and the Empress went as bad as it could get, even going as far as to strike her face, which reminded her of yet another promise that he broke. It should be all of them, by now, she thought, as she looked at him with an exhausted expression.

“You promised me so many things, and in the end, you broke all of them. Thank you, my darling Yin Zhen, for reminding me that I’ve been nothing more than your caged song bird that you forgot and threw in another room, in cold and darkness, to slowly starve and die in agony. The least you could have done was to fake my death and let me be happy, for the few years that I had left on this world. But, of course, nobody from your collection can escape, can they? Next time, I would suggest Zhen Huan, she is a lovely girl, and you love her the most, and in turn, she truly loves you. Just...Make sure not to treat her the same way you did with me...Goodbye, my beloved Yin Zhen. I truly loved you...And I still do.” she spoke...And then she left, not giving him the chance to say another word.

But that all happened during day light, as the next night, the true banquet would take place, to celebrate New Year’s Day, and JiKang would play once again. And she wasn’t there, just as he’d expected. And he played more beautifully, more emotionally, than he ever did in his entire life, showing how much he cherished her, and how angry and frustrated he is with the Emperor took her away from him, mistreated her, constantly lying and breaking her heart.

“Shi Lian, my dear, why are you still here? You should be with your family, not with some old, pitiful woman like myself.” Y/N spoke from her writing table as she finished a note, putting her seal over it, and folding it so its contents won’t be seen. “Your Majesty, don’t be silly! I am your maid, I will always be here for you!” she chuckled brightly, which made the Empress give her a sad smile, her heart hurting as if impaled, once again. “Well...I won’t be going to the Banquet tonight, that much is clear. I can hear the beautiful music from over here. Here, take this. Give it to the Emperor’s Head eunuch as fast as possible, and tell him to give it to the Emperor when he wakes up in the morning, otherwise, nobody is allowed to read it, okay?” she said, wiping a few tears. “Yes, Your Majesty, I will hurry there right now!” the maid said, but before she left, the Empress rose to her feet, pulling her into an embrace. “Thank you, Shi Lian. You have been my only friend all this time. Thank you for everything. Now, please, after you’re done with this task, go stay with your family. I will have an early night...I am extremely tired.” she stroked her hair, almost in a motherly way, which confused the maid, but nonetheless, smiled at her master. “No, Master, thank you for being the amazing woman that you are. It’s an honour being by your side!” she bowed slightly, before rushing to the door. “Sweet dreams, Y/N Niangniang!” Shi Lian grinned cheerfully before taking off to the palace. “...I’m sure I will.” Y/N sighed, taking a bag and going to the Plum Garden, wearing nothing but her pyjamas.

She sat down on the soft grass, ignoring the cold that was paralysing her senses, and she took out the bottle of red wine, pouring herself a cup, before letting it spill on the ground. Then, she took a sachet, pouring its powdery contents into the bottle, and started rapidly gulping it down, letting the burning sensation in her throat be the only warm part in her body. When the bottle was finally empty, she put it back in the bag, taking out a beautifully engraved vertical jade flute, that Yin Zhen gifted her after winning the competition where he played the zither, against the Princess of Western Liang, and so, she let all her emotions flow and be scattered all over China, through the wind, propelled by the sound of the instrument, all while the snowflakes were beautifully dancing around her, creating different accessories embellished with ice, that would set down on her, making her look like a Snow Empress.

If it weren’t for the tragic truth, she would look almost ethereal - With her white face, and white nightgown, the white decor, the green eyes and flute...The red hair, the red wine, the red plum blossoms...And the red blood.

She played and wept until she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore, not her frozen lips, as the flute fell from her hands and she let herself sit back on the bed of snow, looking up at the sky, just as she did, over 20 years ago.

Her death was tragically beautiful, just as she said back then.

“I should just go end myself with some wine, out in the Plum Garden. It would be a very fitting end with no pain. Very beautiful...Maybe some music would have made it perfect.” that’s what she said, long ago, and remembering her own words, she let darkness take over her, greeting it with a smile on her face - A smile, after decades of weeping.

A true smile.

The next morning, the Emperor woke up, with the beautiful Zhen Huan by his side, and his Head Eunuch waiting for him for any command.

“Your Majesty, the Empress’ maid came by yesterday, saying that Her Majesty instructed her that you should be reading this now, in the morning, as you’ve waken up. She said she doesn’t know what it contains, as Her Majesty was secretive, but she said Her Majesty was behaving a bit...Odd.” the Eunuch explained the situation, as the Emperor, nodded with a grunt of approval, taking and unfolding the scroll that was neatly written in her beautiful calligraphy.

My Darling Yin Zhen,

To think that this is what time had in store for us...It’s almost pitiful to think that we would grow apart like this, considering how close we used to be at the beginning, when you were still a Prince, and we didn’t have any real worries on our shoulders.

Now, here we are, the same way we promised we would never become - Enstranged.

I missed you so much, every day and every night - I would always look at you, and see you, yet you never spared a glance my way anymore.

Saying that I used to be jealous is an understatement, I warned you of that before I even accepted to be with you, yet I never imagined that this would become beyond that, and that I would die of a broken heart, for my missing beloved.

Every day, I would count the promises and vows you made for me, and every day, I would cross them, one by one, and crush a flower in my hands, for every broken one, until there was nothing left.

You promised you would love me, and only me, but as soon as the Palace became flooded with gorgeous concubines, all yours to take, your heart forgot me, and it split all its love to all the women that you shared your bed with, and so, I crushed a Lotus flower.

Your promised you would always hold me in your arms at night, no matter of the woman you’d have to do your Imperial Duty with, and yet, it didn’t take long for you to remember that my bed was made for the both of us, and so, I crushed a Cherry blossom.

You promised you will always tease me, flick my forehead and pinch my cheeks, then kiss them, only for you to cast cold eyes at me whenever I spoke or did something silly, letting the Consort or Dowager deal with me, while you would play and to the same things you used to do with me, with other women, and so, I crushed a Plum blossom.

You used to compliment me on all my small achievements, no matter how silly or insignificant they were, but now, you gave away all the clothes I sew you, all the snacks, cakes and tea I would make you, and all the accessories I would spend days and night to make, and so, I crushed a Begonia flower.

You used to point out how my eyes were sparkling with life and joy whenever I was around you, and how all colours looked amazing on me, you said I was the Empress of Flowers, and yet, ever since you became Emperor, only dark eyes sparkle with happiness around you, and you said I should wear clothes for my age and stop fooling around, and so, I crushed a Peony.

You used to always accompany me whenever I played music, we even beat the Princess of Western Liang together, I with the flute, that you later gifted me, and you with the zither, and after that, you even gifted me that amazing Liang hair ornament...Only for you to forget that I can play musical instruments too, and only let the younger girls perform for you, and so, I crushed a Chrysanthemum.

You used to kiss me with so much love and passion, warming up and mending by broken, frozen heart, as you promised nothing in this life would ever hurt me again, and I would never be alone, and yet, you are the one who completely crushed me, forgetting about me, as if I was some ugly, ragged old doll, thrown away and forgotten by time and life, and so, I crushed a Camellia.

You used to be my confidante, my best and only friend, we trusted each other with all our secrets and gossips, and only each other, and yet, you completely stopped talking to me, making other confidantes now, and here I am, having no one but my maid to talk with, as my last living sister hates me eternally, and rightfully so, and so, I crushed a Narcissus.

You used to take me out at midnight and dance under the veil of stars, under the healing, guarding, loving light of Mother Moon, and we would confess our undying love for each other, and yet, nothing is eternal, and your love for me extinguished like the fire from a candle, and reignited on many other candles, and so, I crushed an Azalea.

But most importantly...

You promised that, no matter what, our hearts will always belong to each other, and nobody else - I kept my end of the promise, but you broke it as soon as you took the throne, and I watched you run further and further away from me, while I was wilting away, exhausted, starving, alone...And so...I crushed a thorny Rose...And let the blood spill on the pure snow...The same pure snow that was my life and innocence which you tainted with your negligence and lies.

The least you could have done was to let me live, at least for now, but it is as you once said - ‘Don’t look at other men, don’t leave me. You are mine, and you can only be mine’ - such an innocent phrase, that only applied to you, not to me, as I had to share you with countless women, yet you didn’t even let me tug on the last string of hope that coincidentally found itself in front of me.

It was a mirage, just like the happiness you promised me, and no matter how much I tried to run, the image became further and further distant, until my legs gave up, and I began crawling...And crawling...Until it disappeared completely, and I lay grieving on the deserted snow, warmer than your own ice-cold heart.

I should have chosen happiness over duty - I should have eloped with JiKang back then, before I chose to honour everyone and come into the Palace, but that was my biggest mistake, and my greatest downfall - I met you, and as soon as I looked into your eyes, I was trapped.

I was truly nothing more than your caged songbird, and once you got tired of my song, you threw away the key, and my cage in some forgotten chamber, scary, away from any form of life, darker and colder than anything, even Hell.

But it’s fine.

In the end, if it wasn’t true for you, it was true for me, and on my last seconds alive, as I lay on the blanket of snow, just as I told you back then, listening to my own Requiem being played at the Banquet, I count the falling snowflakes, and with each of them, I would think of a beautiful moment that we shared together, and my heart, despite being shattered, smiled, after ages of forgetting how to.

I am happy, at least now, as I lay dying, knowing that I will finally see my beloved Yin Zhen again, as you took him away from me - You, Emperor Yongzheng, destroyed the love between me, Y/N, a simple physician, and Yin Zhen, the 4th Prince, who truly loved me with all of his heart, and I, in turn, loved him with every fiber of my very being.

I blame you, Emperor Yongzheng, for taking my beloved away from me, and taking my youth and heart and locking them in a cell, but at least now, I know that I can be happy, with him, my beautiful, sweet, lovely Yin Zhen, my husband, best friend and confidante.

The only person who was ever by my side all this time has been my maid, Shi Lian - And as a thank you, I want to promote her to Lady Yongqing, and all my riches go to her - I wish you only the best, and I hope, my dear Shi Lian, that you will be happy for me as well.

In the end, I was never Wu Zetian, or Hua Mulan, nor Diaochan or Yang Gufei - I was just Y/N, a pitiful Physician, a pitiful Empress, and, above all, a sad woman, trapped in a hopeless world of sorrow.

Goodbye.

Y/N, the Female Imperial Physician.

Reading that, the Emperor didn’t realise that tears were escaping from his eyes, as he rushed out of the room, making his way to the Plum Garden, only to find the woman he loved with all his being dead, covered by snow, her skin paler than ice itself, and a red stain where her head was - Wine, replicating the incident many years ago. Next to her, lay the flute he gifted her long ago, and he realised that she was playing her sorrows until the very end. He discovered the wine bottle and poison sachet in the bag, the very bag that she used to steal the incriminatory objects from the consort long ago, and on the snow, he saw a phrase written, one so ironic, yet painful beyond belief.

“A Zhang of Redness”

In the end, she was right - It all began and ended with A Zhang of Redness.

He was, once again, Yin Zhen, the man hopelessly in love, and hopelessly crushed, as he held her in his arms and wept, the salty droplets of water falling down her face in rivers, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but have flashbacks from his youth, all of them, with her by his side.

He truly was the worst, being capable of neglecting the one person he held in higher esteem than Buddha himself, and yet, he let this happen.

How could he let this happen? Why did he do something like this? Did the title of Emperor really get to his head like that? Did he truly forget who he was all this time? Was he, maybe, the one trapped in a false world, away from any exits or escapes?

He didn’t know, and yet, one thing was sure - Y/N was dead, and there was no bringing her back.

At her funeral, he invited JiKang to play, and the Emperor could feel the musician’s own heart throbbing in sorrow, as he looked at her with empty eyes, and yet, the pity and anger he felt was obvious from the way he played.

As night came, and they all lit lanterns to float into the skies, and put candles on lotus flowers, to light up her way to a better, more beautiful world, the two men remained alone, only sadness linking them.

“What were the songs that you played?” the Emperor asked in a low voice. “Songs that I promised I would play in her honour, the last time we talked. I knew what she was going to do, and yet, knowing that she killed herself when I played for her - And more - that she, herself, played, makes my heart ache even more. ‘Requiem for God’s Caged Bird’ and ‘The Lovely Fox Spirit and The Wavering Dragon’ were the name of the songs.” the musician replied with a certain harsh coldness that resembled a blizzard. “I see...Very fitting indeed.” he grunted in approval hearing his statement. “You are the cruelest man alive. Instead of taking care of her, you let her die. You didn’t even give her a second chance of living. You were desperate to possess everything and everyone. To have everything under your control. So much that you don’t even notice, nor care, that the most beautiful flower wilted in your very own hands. You should be ashamed of yourself, to even call yourself an Emperor. You never deserved her, that much, is clear to me.” JiKang glared at the Emperor, not caring for any kind of repercussion. “You are correct. I never deserved her. I loved her more than anything in this world, and yet, I destroyed everything for her, and now, she is no more. She shares the same fate as all the Four Beauties of China - A most tragic end, for all of them. And the worst is that she needed to die in order for me to wake up, and now, I can’t even make it up to her. Honouring her after death means nothing, if I didn’t while she was alive. It changes nothing.” the Emperor sighed deeply, looking at the stars, the ones she loved so much, and would count together from the top of the flowery hill. “That star right there - It used to be our star. Whenever we’d go to the hill together, we’d search for it. It was our guardian star. It was the brightest, and most beautiful. And now, it seems to be be even brighter...Just like that tale of the Rabbit Moon Goddess.” “...At least bother remembering her after death, if you couldn’t do it while she was alive.” the musician left the Emperor to his own thoughts. “I am sorry, my darling Y/N. I love you. Forever. Endlessly. Only you.” the Emperor muttered, staring at the star, allowing himself to mourn properly now, away from anyone’s eyes.

The Palace of Blue Lotus became her shrine, filled with flowers and beautifully written poems, and guarding it, a statue of her, and a statue of a nine tailed fox, a Huli jing, were standing there, letting offerings of flower crowns, jewelleries, jades and trinkets be placed around and all over them, to honour her kind, beautiful heart, as it should have happened while she was alive.

As promised, the Emperor promoted Shi Lian, but to the title of Lady Shuyu, just like Y/N once was, and offered her a huge allowance, almost the size of an Empress, hoping that it would make Y/N happy beyond life...Yet seeing the maid grieving, her face pink and puffy, no longer cheerful, hurt him beyond belief, as he was reminded of the sins he committed.

And so, once again, he had to pink new concubines for his unfortunate Harem, along with his new Empress, Zhen Huan, just as Y/N said...And there she was, a beautiful young woman, full of life and hope, obviously not wanting to become a slave to him, so he interrogated him, just as he did with Y/N, long ago. This time, his brother, Duke Guo, a free soul seeking his soulmate, was by his side.

The Emperor ordered for a zither to be brought forth for the woman to play, and as soon as she did, his brother joined in, accompanying her in perfect sync, and just as it happened to him long ago, their eyes were trapping each other in a beautiful enchantment of love and bashfulness.

Please, Gods, let them be what I and Y/N couldn’t be, Yin Zhen begged in his heart, watching those two shyly exchanging looks.

“I know you never wanted to serve me as a concubine. You very much resemble my wife, the late Empress Y/N. If you were to join the harem, your heart will be destroyed. That is why...If you would want to, I will allow you to marry any man you fall in love with, even if it is my own brother, Duke Guo. He always preached about wanting to find the his soulmate, and you two look at each other the same way I and Y/N would, long ago. Don’t waste this love on stupid things, like I did. Cherish it, and keep your promises to each other. You never know when life snatches away your happiness, leaving only emptiness and sorrow behind.” Yin Zhen looked at them, his heart conflicted, feeling both happiness and sadness, as the man and woman in front of him appeared to be just another version of himself and Y/N.

He couldn’t see the girl, nor his brother.

He could only see a beautiful red haired woman with green eyes, flowers in her long, cascading hair, and her gorgeous green gown, looking like a Fox Spirit, or a Lotus...And a man, gazing at her lovingly, wearing vibrant gold, his expression soft, despite the deep, dark eyes, that now held love, warmth and tenderness in them.

It wasn’t some random girl and some random boy.

It was Y/N and Yin Zhen.

And then he wept once again for their lost love.

#legend of the phoenix #legend of the phoenix imagine #legend of the phoenix x reader #yin zhen #yin zhen x reader #yin zhen imagine #yin zhi #emperor kangxi #emperor yongzeng #empress #noble consort #a zhang of redness #angst #legend of the phoenix yin zhen #legend of the phoenix yin zhen x reader #legend of the phoenix yin zhen imagine

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vivi-the-sky-kid · 3 years

Text

Sowing the Seeds (of Love), Chapter 1

Aka the Resh/OC Fix-It Fic Nobody Asked for but I'm Inflicting on All of You Anyways as Punishment for Kai's Your Hubris

The King has always been a mysterious figure in the annals of the Sky Kingdom's history, generating both awe and fear within the hearts of the sky spirits. Few can claim to have met them in person; certainly not Tav, a researcher of light creatures for the Vault of Knowledge. But when they discover their research may be used to harm the very creatures they know and love, Tav knows they cannot allow this to happen.

Somehow, they must change the King's mind. If that means throwing butterflies at their royal face, then so be it.

-<◇>-

Warnings: Will be added to each chapter when necessary, but there's not gonna be anything graphic in this (do send me an ask if you think there's something I should warn about tho)

Rating: T (just to be on the safe side)

Pairing(s): Resh/OC

Tag(s): Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies

Additional Tag(s): Resh and Alef are twins, Resh and Tav are both nonbinary, Resh uses he/they, Tav uses she/they, Resh is demiromantic and pansexual, Tav is biromantic and demisexual, no beta we die like moths in eden

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

-<◇>-

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2,477

Warning(s): None

-<◇>-

Fury powered her strides as Tav marched towards the elevator leading to Elder Lamed's level of the Vault. What they had overheard... it was unthinkable! Outrageous! And they intended to let Lamed know exactly that! She couldn't let her research be used like this. Not to harm the very creatures they had spent their life studying.

Onwards and upwards she went, a lone figure on the elevator. Scholars sorting memory cubes and acolytes tending to the spiritual residue of the Kingdom's history flew past her vision. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, its power diamond moving to rest over the Elder statues, and Tav mustered their psychokinetic powers to fly the short distance to the grassy island. That had been a trick the mantas had helped her master; if not for them, she would still struggle to get around Vault's upper levels like before. They took a breath to steady themself, adjusted the prairie lily clipped to their hair, and moved forward.

As they crested the structure bearing the Elder statues, Tav looked around. She could see no sign of Elder Lamed, which meant, more likely than not, the Elder had withdrawn into their private domain. There was nothing for it but to light the altar candles, sit before their statue, and pray.

Their legs had started to fall asleep when they finally felt the brush against their mind that meant Lamed had heard their prayer, and was ready to listen. She relaxed and let the Elder pull their consciousness into that dreamy world. When they next opened their eyes, they knelt in the same spot, although the elevator diamond was now gone, casting the area in comfortable shadows. In the statue's place stood Lamed, gazing down at her with an unreadable look.

“Ah, so you are the one who prayed. Tav, was it? Head of the light creature research effort?”

“That's correct, Elder Lamed. I've come to you regarding a decision involving my research.”

“Is that so?” Their eyes flickered beneath the mask, before they dipped their head. “Very well. Speak.”

Tav jumped to their feet, hands clenching the fabric of their robe. “Elder Lamed, I cannot permit my research to be used to develop these 'dark weapons' R&D is proposing! Light creatures are beautiful, wonderful creatures that share a great deal in common with us. They are intelligent, gentle, and loving beings. To turn them into weapons is... is... is out of the question!”

The Elder's eyes had grown wide at her outburst, but soon closed as they pressed a hand to their forehead. “Really, Tav, you're being unreasonable. R&D has already gained permission from the King to go forth with this project. Are you saying you doubt His Majesty's judgment regarding the good of the kingdom?”

“Yes!”

Silence filled the domain. Sweat began running down Tav's back as a great pressure weighed down on them. When they almost gave in and knelt once more, it lifted, and Lamed turned away.

“I expect your research to be turned in to the Vault at the appropriate deadline. Is that understood?”

Tav was silent.

“I said, is that understood, Tav?”

“...It is, Elder Lamed.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

With that, their vision swam, and they closed their eyes to ward off the nausea. Upon opening them, she found herself back at the summit, the power diamond shining coldly overhead. They looked up at the statue and sighed.

Resolve filled them once more, and they stood and walked back to the elevator. Lamed may not have listened, but there was one more person she could try to convince. All reports of the King had them as a kind and benevolent ruler who listened to the people, yet these latest projects said otherwise. Which was the truth, and which was a lie? There was only one way to find out.

Tav swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. This was no time to get cold feet. The light creatures were counting on them.

First things first, however. She needed to keep her research out of the wrong hands.

-<◇>-

Another day, another round of paperwork. Resh sighed inwardly as he dipped his manta quill into the inkwell to sign the latest report from the Golden Land's biggest sunsteel refinery. Production was holding steady due to the shipment of light from Daylight Prairie, and they would likely have enough in reserve for the little project Vault R&D had recently proposed.

A soft call from the doorway caught their attention, and they lifted their head. One of the guards—a new recruit, if their nervous demeanor was any indication—was standing there somewhat awkwardly, but snapped to attention once his gaze was upon them.

Yes, definitely new. That salute was just a little bit too sloppy to be one of the older members.

“What is it?” he said, fixing his gaze on them.

They stiffened. “Y-Your Majesty, there is... a researcher from the Vault demanding to speak with you. They refuse to leave otherwise.”

“Return them to the Vault. We have no time for a meeting, let alone with some unknown researcher,” they replied, returning to their paperwork.

“What do they want?” said a new voice, chiming up from the door leading further into the royal quarters.

Resh blinked and slowly turned towards it. Watching the exchange was their twin, Alef, still dressed in the formal wear of the golden mask, yellow-painted pizaine, and midnight-blue cloak they used for being the public face of the King. They must have returned a short time ago from their trip to the Valley.

“Your Majesty, they have requested you withdraw your support for the Dark Matter Bioweapon project.”

“Have they, now?” Resh shook his head. “Unfortunately, it is too late. The proposal has been signed and delivered to the Vault. To withdraw it now would be equivalent to saying We have made a mistake.”

They let the implications of that statement hang in the air like a sword above the guard's head. With a stammered response of, “Of course, Your Majesty,” they left, and soon only Alef and Resh remained in the office. The latter ignored the former's pointed look, turning back to the stack of paperwork that had yet to be completed with another sigh.

“You've been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps you should take a break.”

Resh shot them a glare out of the corner of his eye, but did not stop his work. Only when they had signed a petition to expand the Valley of Triumph, a tally of candle production in the Isle of Dawn, and a request for more light shipments to the Hidden Forest, did they gesture with their free hand to the desk's contents.

“As you can see, Alef, I am kept busy with the affairs of the kingdom. I am King, after all. My guidance is needed to ensure the kingdom's prosperity.” He dipped the quill into the inkwell once more and grabbed another piece of paper—this time, a request from the Valley to provide them with more boats, as some had broken recently.

“I cannot rest until I have dealt with these matters” —and they said this last bit under their breath— “even if they are incredibly dull.”

Alef hummed and moved closer, cloak swishing softly around his body. They picked up one of the papers in the discarded stack, scanned it, and then looked to Resh. “Surely you can rest from these for a short time? All work and no play makes one a dull star.”

“How rich, coming from the one who only concerns themself with attending celebrations and avoiding any work here,” they replied.

Alef narrowed his eyes, then shook his head and shrugged.

“You want me to do some work here? Very well.” They went up to the switch next to the desk, which would summon a guard when activated (not that Resh had ever used it), and called forth their inner flame in one hand to light it. Soon enough, the same guard from before came to the office. They gave the salute again, a little more firmly this time.

“You called, Your Majesty?”

“Is the researcher still here?”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty. I was on my way to relay your wishes when you summoned me back.”

“I have decided to grant them an audience. Please have them escorted to the throne room.”

“Oh, uh...” They cleared their throat. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“What are you doing?” Resh said, eyeing their sibling with suspicion.

“Work. You said you were too busy to meet with them, didn't you? Well, it just so happens that I am remarkably free. As your dear elder sibling, it is the least I can do for you, Resh.”

With that, they glided from the office before Resh could stop them, leaving him standing with his hand grasping at air.

They sighed.

-<◇>-

The throne room was easily the largest chamber of the Palace, with a throne built to match—a deliberate choice on Resh's part, during its construction all those years ago. Looking the part was half the battle, and what better way to show your kingliness than by being five times the size of Elder Tsadi, he had said. Which Alef now was, having shifted in size to full height as they approached the throne room. The guards at the entrance snapped to attention, and he nodded in greeting as he passed through.

Near the far wall was the diminutive figure of the researcher, their head craned back to take in the full view of the mural displayed there. Two guards flanked them, ensuring they didn't go anywhere they weren't supposed to be. Alef cleared their throat, the sound echoing to every nook and cranny due to the chamber's acoustics, and every person in the room jumped. The guards soon lined up and stood at attention, and the rogue researcher turned to look at him as he took his place on the throne. One guard said something quietly to them, and the researcher nodded, brushed out their robe, and walked forward beside the guards.

“So this is the spirit who requested an audience with Us?” Alef intoned, glancing down at the guard who escorted them, and they nodded timidly. His eyes returned to the spirit, noting that, even with the crest typical of the Vault's senior members, they barely surpassed most of the guards in height. Despite this huge difference in size between them and himself, they barely trembled.

How interesting.

“We permit you to speak, spirit.”

They bowed in acknowledgment, and upon straightening, called out, “Your Majesty, I must urge you to reconsider this Dark Matter Bioweapon project! Light creatures are our friends. They do not deserve to be treated like mere tools, to be used up and cast aside!”

Alef tilted their head to the side thoughtfully, taking their chin between their thumb and index finger.

“...What is your name, star?”

“My name is Tav, Your Majesty. Head of the Vault's research into light creatures.”

“I see.” They leaned forward, casting their shadow over Tav. “Tell Us, Tav. This project is intended to better the kingdom's future. If light creatures are our friends, do they not owe this kingdom their aid, in whatever form we require?”

Tav stepped forward, their hands balling up at their sides.

“There must be a better way than this! Whatever future that project holds is worse than one where we treat the light creatures as our allies. I know it! Please, Your Majesty, let me show you.”

How very interesting.

And exactly what they needed.

Alef steepled their fingers before them, resting their elbows on the armrests of the throne. A sly grin formed on his face. Though it was hidden by their mask, Tav seemed to sense its presence, because they took an involuntary step back.

“We have an offer for you, Tav.”

At the same time, they called out to their sibling and requested their presence in the throne room.

-<◇>-

Resh sighed as they walked.

At one point, the magnificent tapestries and luminous murals decorating the walls of the throne room had brought him such joy. But that had been many, many years ago—too many to count. Now they were just another feature of the brilliant, intricate, boringthrone room, easily ignored in favor of dealing with the unwelcome researcher currently standing before the throne. The reason they had been called away from their work by their sibling.

“Ah, there you are,” Alef said from their spot on the throne. They turned back to the spirit. “Resh is Our Will, you see. They are the one who approved the project. Now, We will send a message to the Vault requesting that they do not proceed with the project until We permit. You have until then to persuade Resh of the truth of your words.”

...What?

The two of them turned, and Resh winced when he realized he had spoken aloud.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was just wondering what this task you have given me is.”

“Ah, of course. You see, Resh, Tav here would like to show Us that light creatures should not be used in the Dark Matter Bioweapon project. However, We have our duties to contend with, and so cannot leave the Palace for such a matter. You, on the other hand, are Our Will, and so We have decided that you shall go in Our stead.”

Even from this distance, and even with the mask hiding their face, Resh could feel the gleeful smugness radiating from Alef like heat from a flame. Their most venomous thoughts, directed like psychic arrows at their twin, only increased the smugness, and so, narrowing their eyes, they bowed courteously to the researcher—Tav, was it?

“As you wish, Your Majesty. When shall we be departing?”

“I assume Tav here needs some time to prepare their case. We shall permit them a day to do so. On the morrow, you shall follow after them to...?”

“Oh, uh, Daylight Prairie, Your Majesty.”

“Daylight Prairie. I can see why you chose to do your research there.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Tav said, bowing deeply before leaving with their escorts.

When they were gone, Resh unleashed the full force of their glare at Alef, folding their arms before their chest.

“What are you plotting?”

“Why, nothing! Simply giving you the rest you deserve,” they said, rising from the throne. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I do believe there is paperwork with my name on it. Don't be late for the boat tomorrow, Resh. It would reflect poorly on Us.”

With that, they waved and left, shrinking back down to a more manageable size as they went. Resh watched them go, scowling and boring holes into the back of their head.

Then he sighed and returned to the royal quarters to rest and prepare appropriate clothing for this farce.

Alef would pay for this.

-<◇>-

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

#sky children of the light #sky #sky king #resh #resh my beloved /j #hi this fic is technically to blame for the bones thing last night #i'm very sorry #i thought of some potential headcanons and then it spiraled out of control #author's note: a pizaine (also spelled pixane) is a type of armor also called a standard or mantle #while in our world it's made of leather or chainmail #in the sky kingdom they seem to make them out of stone as seen on various spirits

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poison--ivory · 4 years

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Uninviting Cataclysm (Alastor x Reader) Chapter 4

Part 1: link

Part 2: link

Part 3: link

For the next few weeks of your relationship with Alastor went from being worried about your well being to having hope that your life wasn't just a masterpiece of disaster. Things were finally looking up for you. Throughout those few weeks you got closer to Al, Mimzy, and Husk. Mimzy took some time to warm up to you and gave you the occasional threat now and again. You came to the conclusion that she cared for Al in a way that an older sibling protected their younger sibling. You can kind of see from her stand point of some random bim coming about and being the object of his affection.

You felt the same way when Issacs's girl erratically showed up one night. They both came home from hitting the town and getting liquored up. Mama was a wreck that night yelling and hitting Isaac with her small hands. Papa escorted the young lady to the guest room, deeming her not stout enough to carry herself back home. Ever since that night you saw the young couple in a dimmer light. Losing some respect for your elder twin in the process.

Husk on the other hand warmed up to pretty fast. Every time Al brings you back to the club, Husk and yourself play a couple of card games, losers usually paid for lunch. Teaching you how to deal all the way to keeping a straight face. He's a nice guy altogether, crunchy on the exterior and soft on the interior. But, you estimated that Al didn't like you talking with Husk for too long. He even goes out of his way to break up any sort of conversation if he sees you two getting too close.

But, the most valuable information you received these scarce weeks were from the man himself.

Alastor, the radio man is very hands on with you especially your waist. He wraps his lanky arms around your petite waist and gives you a strong, short squeeze before cuddling next to you. The only problem is he has to initiate the touching and he gets pissed easily. Al got so irritated when you gave him a shocking hug from behind and gave you a stern lecture with a small pat on the behind. You figured he hated people touching him without permission. To prove this theory you tried holding his hand when the two of you were alone. He yanked that arm back so fast all you saw was a blur. It took you around thirty minutes to get him to calm himself down. He spent the rest of the day with his hands in his pockets whenever you came into the room.

Your courtier would never take you to his house, but he would happily go to your home and chat with the family. You were quite perplexed that your papa liked him. He's the type of dad that gets mad if his little girl even has a crush on another boy. Yet, it didn't stop there, even your brother found him likable. You're very liberated that they all seem to get along, but you were a little disappointed that they weren't as protective as you would think. Nonetheless, you felt very fulfilled with your man that day.

Going on small dates are pretty joyful considering Al knows how to keep the fun going. If you even look like you're bored or uninterested he makes either witted jokes or invades your personal space in an attempt to fluster you. On some nights if you're really lucky he does more than just kiss you goodnight.

Next, you seem to notice whenever family is brought up he talks about his mother in a very bright light. But, he never talks about his father. You brought it up to him and he dismissively walked around the whole topic. So, you never brought it back up instead you got him to talk about his mom. Apparently he gets most of his personality from his mother, Abigail. She taught him how to make jambalaya, singing, his etiquette knowledge and that prize winning smile that adores his features. This guy brings up his mother with such admiration that makes you question it sometimes. It's not that you mind his banter, in fact you found it amusing to hear him talk so fondly about her. You won't lie about feeling a little jealous from their closeness.

He's definitely a Mama's Boy .

The last details you noticed were the really late night hunting he does. That lean frame of his is covered in scratches and small bruises. He tells you that most of his scars come from deer or jagged tree branches. It didn't explain the scratch marks on his neck. He told you those marks on his neck are from your guys last intimate moment together and without questioning him you believed his word. You don't remember clawing his skin. You left it at that and took him inside to mend his sore muscles.

Blood underneath his finger nails took you aback, when he took his gloves off. You offered to help clean them, but he was really reluctant to even let you stare at them. You just wanted to help, but he thought otherwise. He stared at you from the corner of his eye before giving you a loud laugh and a resounding 'No.'. Like everything else in your relationship you just let it go without any further question.

You should've known better.

Nearing the end of June, with most people trying to find efficient ways of keeping cool. You were inside a hot kitchen all day baking a whole batch of beignets for a special little boy. Joseph's last night here was today and you wanted to make it fantastic for him. So, you invited all his school friends, neighbors and some of Claire's friends. You were going to spend most of your hard earned money on his go away party, however Al stepped in to pay for most of the expenses. He even invited Mimzy and Husk for entertainment wise. That incident still gave you butterflies and a genuine smile on your face.

The only thing you needed to do was powder the pastries and get ready for the night of fun. Sprinkling the canister of sugar powder upon the delightful treats. Setting aside the sugary French styled doughnuts with a covering, taking long strides to the staircase you made it to your room to gather a simple long sleeved dress. Then, managed to freshen up with a nice bath and some light makeup. Packing the beignets in a proper container and double checking the security of the vessel. Alastor should be coming by to pick you up in his newly repaired car, but the person at the door was not your Al. But, your dear friend Husky. He adored a simple white button up dress shirt, black slacks with polished black dress shoes and pulled together with dark gray suspenders.

"Ya ready, doll?" Blowing the rest his gasper smoke into the night air, He leaned his arm out for you to take.

"Where's Al," Taking his arm with a worried look on your face. ",did something happen?" He waved his hand off into the distance before giving you a slightly direct answer.

"He had some last minute stuff he had to take care of." You both stepped in his dark boiler and sped off down the pathway. "Don't worry he'll make it back in time for the party. Fucker lectured me about being late and look at what he's doing now." He scoffed.

"Well, thank you. For taking me in his place, Husk. I really appreciate it." Flashing him your most sincere smiles. His cheeks flushed a modest hue of pink before he scowled. Grumbling a quiet ‘welcome’ before his gaze drifted towards the road. The path ahead grew bumpier by every turn down a lane leading through the thick woods. We scheduled for the party to be held near the bayou at mid evening. So, by the time the party starts the sun should be setting.

Husk and you managed to keep conversation up with the occasional bits of quietness here or there. Talking to Husk is like talking to your other self. Sometimes you could say the most random shit and he’ll come back with a response that will put a smile to your face. He’s basically like your second big brother with a small(not at all) drinking problem.

“So, when are you getting this car repaired,” The boiler hitting a jagged rock before settling back in place. “Because this gal has seen better days and probably a near death in its future.” You murmured under your breath.

“Fucking inherited this piece of junk from my old man. Shitty old fucker couldn’t even buy me a new one.” A loud, deep growl came from his throat and through one arm off the wheel, “Bought himself a new car, while I’m struggling to get to work and back.” He scowled and gave a great sigh before stating he needed a drink.

“I’m pretty sure there’s going to be lots of liquor, especially from those old geezers.” You knew that Mrs. Claire and her friends would sit outside their houses at dusk drinking away on those rickety porches getting buzzed. You know this because your papa used to take you out and sat you down on the weathered wood while he got tipsy with his friends. One sundown you took a sip of a stray bottle they left unattended, you being a small child decided it would be experimental to drink the loopy juice. You took one sip and gagged, spitting saliva and finally throwing up. Mama was so pissed, and wouldn’t let him go drink for months.

“Good fucking need it.” He seemed to ease up a bit just by the mention of booze.

“Why are you so wound up tonight anyway.” Raising an eyebrow over in his direction.

“Alastor didn’t tell me until last minute that I had to pick you up and I was already three-fourths of the way to the party.” His fingers gripped his hair, then slowly combed through it. “ Fucking asshole wasn’t even remorseful.” Adding in a quiet jackass in his blur of curses.

“What exactly did he say he was doing tonight, if you don’t mind me asking.” Conscious of his body language you observed his hands tighten on the steering wheel, his posture straighten for just a second then went back to hunching. Husk’s Adams apple bobbed down and up, you wanted to chalk it up to him yearning for his alcohol. “It’s not something dangerous right?”

“Nah, it’s nothing dangerous he just had to run some errands and I guess he had more on his platter than expected.” He reassured you, his hand rubbed the top of your hands.

“I know he’s spontaneous, but this is kind of unexpected of him. He seems to love get-togethers or any social event with music.” You did have hopes for the two of you spending the night together. Maybe lay down on the grass and star gaze and probably watch Husk get drunk. “We do have time before the party, we could go and help him finish what he needs done.”

“No!” He groaned, slightly pulling on his face. “He already has Mimzy helpin’ him, and he would get pissed if I just brought you by.”

You really didn’t understand why you couldn’t drop by to help.

If it was a work matter you would have noticed or heard about the situation, but nothing eventful really happened this week. The victims of the Bayou Killer reduced their number of murdered victims these past handful of weeks. Which makes you feel somewhat safe tonight and that’s sort of why you're throwing this party.

Maybe you're just reading too far into the situation and Al’s going to be just a few minutes late.

“It’s fine I know first hand how Al can get a little irked when people don’t follow his instruction.” Managing a small smile to your lips. “I was just a little curious about the whole ordeal.”

Inhaling a deep breath Husk created a deep groan that emitted from his throat. “Don’t beat yourself up, (y/n). Being curious about your lover is perfectly fine.” Taking another puff from his gasper and letting the smoke trail out the window. “ And to be clear here, he’s an asshole and you're just the clueless moth flying towards his flame.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”, you demanded.

Husk made another groan emit from his throat, he’s been doing that a lot tonight. But, you never really see Husk worried, he’s usually either angry, smug or on the occasion vulnerable. He gets you overwhelmed with fear when he talks so lowly about himself, the whole scene of him with bottles on bottles lying next to his passed out body makes your chest clench.

“I’m not insulting ya it’s just,” He twirled his wrist in a small circle, “Al’s not some dandy who needs your concern. To be completely honest you deserve a fellow who would settle down and have a nice family one day.”

“What makes you think Alastor doesn’t want to have a family with me.” You tightly crossed your arms over your chest, “Did he mention any of this to you?”

“No, no when you have been with Al as long as I have you tend to pick up all of his quirks.” Another deep puff and that stick was gone. The smoke came out in rings carried off by the wind. “And his motives.”

Opening your mouth to counter his claim, the upcoming lights flashed in your eyes. The lanterns strung up on steel poles lined along the large land area. You could already see a large portion of people starting in on their fun evening.

Husk pulled over to the side where a small portion of boilers settled at. He stepped out and walked over to your side, wrapping his arm around your frame leading you down the path of bright lights. Prior to leaving you snatched the beignets from dash nearly pushing them out your mind beforehand.

Joseph seemed like he’s having a despairing time with his friends. While they all played together, he sat himself down on one of the benches. Face cast away from them and back hunched over to rest his head on his arms. His little head turned towards your way, eyes closed, brows furrowed and crunching his nose up.

His gaze met yours and that little cannon rammed right into your gut. The air nearly left your lungs, but you deliberately gained your stance. “How’s the going away boy doing?” Returning his tight squeeze with an equally suffocating grasp. Little hands pulled on dress and a small face nuzzled into your side, Joseph’s petite face stared up at you, whites of the eyes turned pinkish. “Oh, honey, I know moving is really isolated, but look on the bright side. You can spend time with your cousins and experience new places.”

“It’s not the same.” His little voice raised a very squeaky octave. “They all make fun of me whenever I visit. They call me a baby for still sleepin’ in the same room as granny, they even called me daisy.” Shoving his face back into your hip, a large shiver went throughout his small body.

You know from great experience about family troubles, but comparing your situation to Joseph’s would be like comparing a gator to a croc. They may look the same on the outside, but they have major differences. His family was more docile like a gator, while your biological parents were more like crocodiles, very aggressive and annoyed by others in their space. But, this isn’t your family, thank god, this is about your favorite little guy right now.

I should stop doing this to myself.

“I know this is hard for you and we can’t really change your granny mind any time soon.” Ushering him back over to the bench sitting him down next to you. “But, you still mail and call to us everyday if you want to. It might just make you feel better about being so far away from all the wondrous folk down here.”

“You really think that’ll work.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yes I do think that’ll work just fine.” Stroking his hair out his face in the process rubbing the stray tears. “So, how does that sound.”

He slothfully nodded, looking up at the night sky. “I could have Aunt Shirley write my letters though. My penmanship is dreadful.” he quietly added, giving a small smirk direct at you.

Shooting straight up, with a small bounce you pulled Joseph to his feet. “Now I made this party happen and got you to stay up late, just for you to pout and cry.” Flicking his nose you gave a soft smile. “How about we make this night better with a sweet treat.” You showcased the container and popped the lid off. The aroma of powder sugar met Joseph and your noses. His eyes shined a tad bit and that tiny smile that hung from the corner of his lips gave way of his joy. He sure did love these sugary confections.

“Thank you, (y/n). You made this night a whole lot better.” He gratefully took a beignet and practically shoved the pastry in his mouth. Humming that the French doughnut was indeed good.

Walking off and setting the plate down you pinpointed Husk Downing himself with silly juice with some of the older guests. Deciding not being surrounded by drunk people was a good idea you made the decision of mingling with Floyd. He was probably the most reasonable person to approach. Upon seeing you he gestured to the empty seat next to him you gratefully took the offer.

“So, how has the night been faring you, Floyd.” Giving him a kind smile and gestured towards the party. “ Having fun?”

He gave a noticeable shrug before answering, “I kind of wanted to stay home. But, you know how Clay can be.” He took another swig of punch. “Not that I don’t want to be here. I’m just tired from this week, ya know.”

“It’s fine to be tired. I’m pretty sure we're all tired from the month with the past killings.” A small groan came from your throat. “Why do you think the killings stopped all a sudden?”

“I feel like the fucker wants to put everyone on the edge of their seats and while we’re all nice and happy they’ll find another body.” Floyd’s outlook was depressing, but you won’t lie about thinking that way, too.

“You really think they’ll find one.” You questioned. All you got in return was a short and assertive nod.

“Mrs.Claire has a smart idea of sending her grandkid to Arkansas, especially in the condition she’s in. Barely can afford to feed one person on her salary.”

Nodding you agreed with Floyd, Mrs.Claire does need help and sending Joseph to Arkansas would be her first step. You spent about the next hour talking to Floyd, Clay and his dame, Mama and Papa, your brother, Mrs. Claire and a surprising still standing upright husk. You grew worried about Al once you knew how much time flew by. Husk reassuring you that he’ll come later or in a few minutes. By the second hour it was already eleven o’ clock and by now you were more furious than worried. You decide to cool your mind with a few drinks and maybe a little liquor to ease your troubles. By your fourth drink you were a little tipsy and hanging off of Husk to keep yourself standing. You weren’t drunk. But you felt that if you let go you would fall straight into the dirt below.

Suddenly, hands blocked your view. “Guess who, darling.” In your inebriated state you uncontrollably giggled. The anger is still there ;like a grain of stubborn sand in a bag. But, not so much as before. Turning around you pulled him into your chest.

“You said a couple minutes late, liar.” You huffed.

“I’m sorry, love, but something came up and I couldn’t leave it hastily finished.” A huge smile plastered his face, teeth and all. “ Do you think you could forgive me?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Liquid courage gave you the confidence of trailing your fingers along his chest. “ Maybe if I get something to ease my anger.”

Al’s eyes widened and that sharp smile turned into a smirk. “My little bearcat is getting handsy this evening.” He maneuvered his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. “Maybe I should take you home. Come here now chere.” He strolled back to his car with you in tow.

Maybe I should’ve been more cautious back then.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #1920s #past abuse #toxic family #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin mimzy #husker hazbin hotel #relationship #courting #period typical racism #time period

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letshaikyuu · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐔 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

➻ entry fee: this free cocktail 🍸 given by yours truly

Welcome to ‘El Ray’, Tumblr’s hottest new strip club. During tonight’s opening show, we will see the following acts:

ѕємι єιтα - chippendale αкααѕнι кєιנι - works exclusively for private parties and VIP clientele кєηмα кσzυм�� - regular stripper мιуα αтѕυмυ - works exclusively for private parties and VIP clientele нαηαмαкι тαкαнιяσ - male revue мαтѕυкαωα ιѕѕєι - regular stripper

Enjoy the show 🍸 (ft. bartender Kuroo)

⤜ 𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐚 ⤛

Semi Eita is not your regular stripper. He is part of a touring dance troupe that is known for a distinctive upper body costume that consists of a bow tie, collar and shirt cuffs worn on a bare torso. Just imagine Eita in such an outfit, bish please.

It’s extremely difficult to enjoy such an experience with Semi because he is a top notch stripper and you’ll need to pay good money to watch him perform. His presence on stage is so eye-catching that the rest of the troupe kind of blends together into the dark background and he becomes the center of everyone’s attention

His upper torso and shoulders are not as broad as some other strippers’, but his moves are so smooth and his presence on stage is so enchanting that you can’t avert your eyes from his dancing figure. Once you catch his eye, he sticks to you and only you. His smirk is bigger, his moves are more sensual and at one point he throws his bow tie in your direction and that’s the best souvenir ever

Because he is constantly travelling and has a big fanbase, there’s no way he sticks to regular clients. It’s just impossible for him to focus on specific clients, so there’s no special treatment from this guy except for on stage

Also, doesn’t do private parties and one-on-one shows because he wants to mesmerize more people all at once, so save up some money and go pay for a chippendales performance. You won’t regret it at all

⤜ 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢 ⤛

Such beauty and grace. Akaashi Keiji is a famous name in the community and there’s no one that doesn’t know about him. He made his name known from the very start. Started working at ‘El Ray’ when he was a student because he definitely needed the money, but liked the job so he stuck with it. He was pretty insecure at first with everything, but learned how to love himself and the job he does

As the months went one and more well-offed people started visiting the club, Akaashi kept being requested for private events and parties. He is now floating in cash because he earns a good sum of money doing such parties. More famous with elder gentleman and women. There’s rarely someone who can say they dislike him or his looks

He is booked constantly and also does themed parties from time to time. His portfolio would consist of him dressed in everything, from a sexy maid outfit to a hot police officer, Akaashi has done it all. Why do people like him so much?

He is a professional at what he does. Akaashi comes to the parties always dressed in the fanciest of clothes with the skimpiest of underwear underneath. Also, a very skilled dancer that is extremely flexible ;). Even though a light blush can adorn his facial features, he is never the one to show he’s embarrassed. If anything, the blush is what keep the people coming

⤜ 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐨𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞 ⤛

Kenma is a dark horse in ‘El Ray’. He started working because his best friend Kuroo, who happened to be a bartender in said club, told him about the job opening and told him to apply for it. Surprisingly, Kenma did get the job and he wasn’t the happiest person in the world

During his first few nights, he kept it low and was kind of hidden in the dark and let the other strippers do his work. No one really payed attention to the new addition because most of them were regulars that had their preferred favorites

One night, he happened to catch a fellow’s eye and Kenma had to step down from the stage and show what he has to offer to the gentleman. Kenma left the guy crying for more because there was no way someone as petite as him had such talent, body movements and expressiveness. Master at dirty talk let me tell you that immediately.

Everyone who gets to experience Kenma on their lap can die happily. For someone who is usually quiet, he has a lot of things to say. From degrading you to complimenting your appearance, there’s no way you can get this pudding head out of your head after you walk out of the club

Even though his body is lean, his soft and white skin catches attention and he’s basically sparkling when the staff decide to put glitter on him. The stage lights always showcase his figure purrfectly~

⤜ 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 ⤛

Hardest to get to for private parties because 1) you have to pay a good amount of money to get him to your place and Atsumu is not the one to settle for anything below perfect and 2) he is completely booked throughout the whole year

Apart from private parties and events, the time he spends at ‘El Ray’ is usually in the VIP rooms with wealthy gentleman and madams. Even though he’s the one who’s earning a living with said job, he is quick to assert dominance and shows him who’s the one leading the show tonight

VIP rooms are similar to private shows and if you pay for the full show, then you are definitely spending your money well. Atsumu provides you with the time of your life. He is also not afraid to go all the way with some people, especially if you’re a regular or someone who provides him with a negative AIDS test lol

He easily gets used to each and every client of his, no matter how different. That’s why he earns the amount he earns. He remembers all the small details of his regulars and uses them to his advantage. Treats every single client specially and the exact way they want to be treated

Also a famous name in the community and it’s difficult to get to him, so good luck with trying to have a private session with him

⤜ 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 ⤛

Makki is also part of the travelling troupe because he hates being fixed to one particular place and spot. He also doesn’t want any regular clients because he then needs to pay special attention to them and it’s too much work at times

He prefers travelling from city to city, showing everything he has to offer and leaving the following morning satisfied. Makki sticks out from other performers with his brightly colored hair. In the dim and dark background it’s very easy for him to grab your attention because he’s standing out

Similar to Semi, his body type is not as big as the others, but that never seems to stop him. His dancing is always sharp with an emphasis on hip thrusts. He knows how to work em slim hips. He’s definitely one of the performers that do the choreography the best. Makki’s eyes are never focused on one particular person and he always tries to satisfy every person that payed to come to the performance

He is also one of the members with the most popular fancams because even through video, he grabs your attention and it’s not ease to tear your gaze away from him

⤜ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐢 ⤛

His body looks amazing in leather pants and suspenders. That’s a fact and you can’t prove that’s not true. When you first enter the club, he acts like he’s a bartender because he appears out of nowhere and asks you if you need a refill. In the huskiest voice possible thank you very much

And when his hot ass shows up on stage, surrounded by that dim lighting, he looks like an absolute angel...that’s wearing very, very skimpy clothing. His legs are too long that he couldn’t be put on the cover of Vogue ngl. Mattsun knows what he’s doing and knows exactly what kind of effect he has on the audience

He enjoys working at the club because he knows he’s good at what he does and he earns a good amount of cash for it. Like Makki, he knows how to emphasize every part of his lower body effectively and his facial expressions are always an added bonus

Those eyebrows do wonders and I know cause I have em myself heh. He has potential to do private shows and parties, but that’s too much of a hassle and bigger crowds make him more excited...especially after he finishes one client and the crowd wants to have a go with him.

Probably has a handful of regulars, but never widens that circle. If you’re a regular with him and have been for a few months, then he’ll probably you a special session with him, but don’t expect much ;3

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authorialarcanist · 3 years

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Gracidea Blossom Chapter 7: In The Town of Incessant Rain

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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Meow?

“You can do it, Lennon! Reach for the stars!”

Meow!

With a determined cry, Lennon pounces at its target, white fur shining under bright ceiling-mounted lights. Its ambitions are frustrated as the fluffy toy jolts out of its way, leaving the Litten to hit the floor on the other side empty-pawed. With an agile hop, it turns to look for its prey.

“Keep going! Only by believing in yourself can you grow into a proper warrior!” Rin waves the toy - a simple stick with white fluff modeled after a Minccino’s furry, white-tipped tail on one end - and brings it back down into her Pokémon’s sights. Lennon makes another attempt to catch the toy, and yet another as Rin leads it on a merry chase around the room.

At the moment, they’re inhabiting a small side room in a Pokémon Center, one of several set aside for Trainers to battle or train their Pokémon. The ubiquitous Pokémon Center Theme can still be heard filtering in from the main rooms of the building, but it’s quiet enough to blend with the sound of rain pounding down on the roof and the roads outside.

After their meal, Rin had brought her and Riki’s Pokémon to be healed while Riki and Kengo ran for a store to grab more than a single umbrella’s worth of rain gear for the group. Masato vanished to who knows where for his muscle training and Kyousuke went to get a start on his advertising gig, leaving Rin to her own devices. After waiting a short while for the Pokémon to be returned in full health, she retreated to the training room to let them stretch their legs.

MEOWWW! Lennon cries triumphantly as it finally snags the Pokémon toy out of Rin’s hand with a flying tackle.

“Woah!” Rin’s jaw drops when she realized what happened. “Well done, Lennon! Could it be you’ve become a proper warrior already?” Lennon preens, only to hiss in surprise as the ground yaws beneath it. It scrabbles with its claws, finding no traction in moist soil as Terra dumps it off from where it had landed on the Turtwig’s back. Terra snaps at the cat Pokémon indignantly.

Lennon bristles, and starts to circle the Turtwig before being cut off by a sharp “No!” It looks back at its trainer, who continues, “I’m watching Terra and Sly until Riki gets back. You’re not allowed to fight them.” A minute passes, the Litten withering under Rin’s stare, until it finally gives up and slinks back to her side. “Good kitty.” Lennon arches its head up into Rin’s palm as she pets it. “Oh? Do you want a treat?”

Nya.

“You want some Mon petit?”

Nyaa!

“You’ve already had some today. You shouldn’t eat too much between lunch and supper, or you’ll get a bellyache.”

Nyaaa…

Rin shakes her head. “I’ll give you this, instead. You diddo well today, after all.” Smiling brightly, Rin pulls out a plastic container full of small, colourful cubes. She places a red one in the middle of her palm, offering it to the cat. Lennon sniffs the candy block and then laps it up, tickling Rin’s hand in the process. “You too, Santa. Come here.” This time, the Pokéblock she offers is pink, and the Chingling looks up from the other side of the room where it has Sly wrapped up in its tendrils. It lets go, (Riki’s Bonsly looks relieved at the release from its cuddling,) and wanders over. After a couple of tries, it gets its jaw around the Pokéblock and jingles happily at the sweetness.

Rin slips the rest of the Pokéblocks back into her bag. They’re not all that easy to find in Sinnoh, so she has a limited stock until her brother takes another trip to Hoenn. There are Poffins, of course, but… She glances at Santa as it tries to crunch down on its treat. When it comes down to how cute her Pokémon look eating them, Pokéblocks win every time!

“Hm?” Rin becomes aware of a gaze fixed on her, and turns to see Riki’s Pokémon staring balefully. “Ah…”

Terra blinks, first with one eye, then the other.

“I really shouldn’t… I mean, you’re Riki’s Pokémon, and he might have his own plans…”

Sly looks like it’s on the verge of tears.

Rin folds. “…Okay, fine. It’s our secret, alright?” She fumbles in her bag to pull out a couple more Pokéblocks, glances both ways to confirm nobody’s watching, and slips them to the Pokémon. “You’re not allowed to tell Riki, got it?”

Terra crushes one of the blocks with its beak.

“Woah!” A tugging sensation on her clothes draws Rin’s gaze back to Lennon, who is trying to climb her like a tree. One of its claws goes a little too deep, and nicks her skin for a moment. “Aah!” She jolts, and the Litten flops to the ground in surprise. “You have to be more careful, Lennon! People aren’t as tough as you are!” She pauses. “…Well, Masato might be.”

Meow~ Lennon rolls back and forth on the floor.

“You’re really brimming with energy today.” Rin watches Lennon roll around her in a clumsy loop. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Roll… Roll…

“Did you have that much fun battling?”

Lennon comes to a stop once it’s right-side up and meows at her.

“What about you, Santa?”

The Chingling bounces up and down, its bell sounding every time it pushes off the ground.

“Hmm. Well, I’ll tell you a secret, then.” Rin leans in close to her Pokémon, and whispers, “I did, too!” She deftly lifts Santa into her lap, and runs her hands along its rope-like appendages. It cuddles up closer to her in pleasure, and she pats the smooth top of its bell.

“Hmmm…” Rin plops her chin on one hand and hums to herself, deep in thought. “Hmmmmmmmmmmm…” Her head tilts slowly to the side as she thinks, approaching a 90 degree angle. Once her head hits 45 degrees, she straightens up. “I’ve got it!”

Lennon sits and looks up at her, tail swishing on the floor.

Rin nods, filled with self-satisfaction. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask Riki to battle me!”

——

“I still don’t understand why I have to do this…”

The next morning brings with it the hustle and bustle of the big city. Businesspeople dash to their places of work, some with bagels dangling from their mouths. Children rush to their schools, chatting with friends as they do. Nearly everybody is carrying rain gear of some kind - while the rain let up overnight, the skies above the city are still cloudy and threatening.

Although the crowds disquiet Rin, she nonetheless pushes through, dragging Riki behind her until they near Jubilife TV. Across the street from the TV station, set smack-dab in the center of the city, is a refreshing spot of green that stands out amidst Jubilife’s rocky greys.

“It’s so we can fight,” Rin responds matter-of-factly. “Masato, Kengo, and Kyousuke are all too strong for a real match. If I want to battle someone, it has to be you.”

It’s not much compared to Amity Square, but Jubilife’s sole park - boasting wide stretches of grass, a fountain, and even several trees all scattered around a path dotted with benches - remains a popular spot for elders and children who want to be amidst living things without venturing into the wilder routes outside the city. Rin pulls her friend past several benches until they reach a dirt battlefield in the shade of the massive Global Terminal building.

“No, no, no, that doesn’t follow at all,” Riki sighs. “First of all, nobody said we’re the only Trainers in the world! I’m sure you could find someone who wants to battle at the Trainer School or the GTS!”

Rin glances behind her at the building in question. It’s a huge, multi-story cone of glass and steel, with a tower on the roof pointing satellite dishes in every direction. Originally called the Global Trade Station - the first in the world, Kyousuke once told her with a gleam of patriotism - over the years it grew beyond its original purpose as a glorified signal-booster allowing interregional Pokémon trades and became a general all-purpose gathering point for the region’s Trainers to communicate with both each other and their counterparts in distant lands. Even as far away as she is, Rin still gets the impression of hundreds - maybe thousands - of strangers crowding within, all shouting over each other, their shadows twisting and merging into a multi-headed beast—

The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Of course I can’t do that, dumbass!”

Riki steps back, hands in front of him placatingly. Whatever further arguments he was going to present die on his lips. “Okay, okay… I’m sorry. Still, are you sure you’re alright not being able to talk to strangers? You’ll have to manage on your own someday, won’t you?”

Rin shakes her head. “You and Kyousuke will be there,” she says simply.

“Ah…” Riki doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. In lieu of further debate, Rin points her Pokéball at the ground in front of her and presses the button on front, causing it to shoot out a red beam that materializes into Lennon. Riki gives up and throws his own Pokéball, his eyes widening as Terra appears across from the fire cat. Lennon darts for its opponent, and Riki fumbles with his belt. “Crap! Terra, return! Go, Sly!”

“Lennon, use Lick!” Rin seizes on the opening without remorse, and her Litten lashes the Bonsly with its tongue before the Pokémon can get its bearings. “Now Roar!” Sly is still staggering back when Lennon lets out an intimidating yowl, and before Riki can react his Pokémon is hiding behind his legs.

“Sly—“ Riki grimaces, and after a moment he sends Terra back out into battle. The turtle Pokémon has no choice but to take an Ember attack head-on upon reentry, but it shakes it off and lumbers forward. “T— Terra, use Tackle!” With a determined cry, the Turtwig plows through a second Ember to ram into Lennon, sending the cat stumbling back. Lennon jumps out of the way before it can take a second attack, and readies another Ember, but both combatants are flagging. A third Ember should be enough to finish Terra off, but… its physical attacks are strong enough that it might be able to take Lennon out if it gets luck— “Come back, Terra! Sly, I’m counting on you!”

Rin clicks her tongue in frustration as Riki backs off, and switches Sly into an ineffective Ember attack. Even if the Bonsly has a better type matchup, Terra’s been weakened enough at this point that it won’t be able to recover from the tempo loss of switching back in. No matter how she tries to push, the spark she felt the previous day just won’t come. Riki is all over himself with hesitation and openings; she doesn’t feel an ounce of fighting spirit from him. “Charge him, Lennon!” Lennon darts for Sly, as Rin bets it all on getting in closer than Rock Throw’s effective range.

“Sly, use R— I mean--“ Riki hesitates just a moment too long. “Er, use Flail!” Paralyzed by its trainer’s indecision, Sly takes Lennon’s Lick attack before it can retaliate. The Litten goes down, but before Rin can switch in Santa to finish the job, she’s interrupted by what sounds like thunder rolling.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIIIIIIIIIIS!” Rin clamps her hands over her ears and screws her eyes shut at the explosive shout. When the noise dies down, she takes in the sight of a tall, wiry old man in a green robe. His mustache, goatee, and spiky hair have all gone white with age, and he’s glaring at the two of them with brown eyes. “JUST WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT DISPLAY?”

“…A Pokémon Battle?” Riki cocks his head at the old man.

“Pah! I’ve fought better Pokémon Battles than that in my sleep,” The aggressive geezer growls. “I’ve seen Pokémon Coordinatorswith more aggression than you, kid! And as for you!” He wheels on Rin, who steps back involuntarily.

Before he can advance any further, she settles on a preemptive strike! She bristles and shouts at him, “Nobody asked you, old man!”

The geezer explodes again. “WHO’S AN OLD MAAAAAAAAAN!?” His eyes flash with anger, and his shout echoes around the park. As though in response, the clouds burst open and rain begins to pour down once again. Quivering under the huge stranger’s shout, Rin kicks into fight or flight mode, and miserably succumbs to her only option.

“Rin! Wait up!”

She runs away.

——

Rin presses her back against the wall of a building, half-sheltered from the rain by the lip of the roof. Her breathing is slowing down again now that she’s gotten away safely, but… she’s traded in for a new problem instead. She’s lost and alone in the big city, surrounded by people she doesn’t know. Even now, strangers with ponchos and umbrellas rush up and down the street, causing Rin to flinch back whenever one passes too close. Occasionally a member of the faceless mass slows, as though debating whether to approach her, but they always pick up their pace when she hisses at them.

“Rin! Thank goodness, I finally found you… Are you okay?”

Rin jumps at the sudden voice calling out to her, and glances around wildly. Her body tenses up, ready to make one last desperate attack… and then she recognizes the voice as coming from Riki, standing in front of her with an umbrella. The pent-up energy transfers to her voice as she speaks a little too quickly. “I-I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You looked kind of—“

“I said I’m fine!” Rin glares at her friend, daring him to contradict her.

“Ah… Alright…” Riki blinks first, averting his gaze. After fidgeting for a moment, he hands Rin a folded-up umbrella. “Oh, right. By the way, you dropped this.”

“O-oh. Thanks, Riki.” As she falls back into a familiar routine, Rin slowly relaxes. She unfolds her umbrella - courtesy of Riki and Kengo’s shopping trip - and steps back out into the rain. “…I guess we should meet back up with the others.”

Riki falls into step with her as she turns back towards the hostel where Kyousuke arranged for them to stay. “You’re not going to say we need to finish that battle?” he asks.

Rin just shakes her head. “No point.” The scary old man was right about one thing - she’s certain, now. She’s not going to get the challenge she wants from Riki.

“I see…” From the look on his face, Riki clearly doesn’t see, but he follows along nonetheless. Rin continues to glance around warily, some instinctual part of her still convinced that an enemy is going to accost her. In the end, however, she and Riki encounter nothing but puddles and thunder-cracks as they walk through the sodden city.

——

“You want us to what?” Masato’s jaw drops.

Rin stares at him unblinkingly. “Help me train,” she repeats, brooking no argument.

“Well someone’s had a change of heart. Didn’t we have to bribe you the last time we wanted you to learn something? Why the sudden change?” Kengo drums his fingers on his arm.

Rin had wasted no time in making her demands when she and Riki arrived back at the hostel. She’s not sure what’s so hard to understand about it. “I just want to. Riki’s not enough to give me an interesting battle -” she ignores his halfhearted ‘Hey!’ - “so I need to try something else.”

“Hmm. Well, I guess that’s reasonable…” Kengo plows over Riki’s murmur of ‘You too…?’ to give Rin a nod, but Masato interrupts him.

“Woah, woah, hold on! After all the trouble she gave us, Rin gets to just plow in here and demand our help like it’s a given?” Masato frowns and crosses his arms. “Shouldn’t we at least make some demands of our own?”

Rin glares at him. “Like what?”

Masato thinks for a minute, face scrunching up further and further. Finally, he gives a defeated shrug. “Heck if I know. Ugh, now I’ve got a headache…”

Rin looks on with naked awe. “What an idiot!”

“Uwoooh! At least don’t call me that when you’re asking for my help!” Masato covers his face with his hands and lets out a groan of utter despair.

Rin places her hands on her hips. She can’t help but feel that they’d strayed from the main point. “Anyways, help me train!”

“No, he’s got a point…” Kengo scratches his chin. “You really should be polite if you’re asking a favor.”

“Ugh…” Rin grimaces. The conversation is going off the rails, fast. She looks to Riki for support.

“…I’m sorry, Rin.” Riki shrugs helplessly. “It is important to know how to ask for help properly…”

Rin groans. She glances around, as though something in her surroundings would grant her an escape route.

The world is not so accommodating.

Finally, she clenches her fists, screws up her determination, and shouts, “Please, train me!”

She hears Masato’s astonished voice. “Woah… Did Rin actuallyjust ask us nicely…?”

Her eyes still closed, Rin half-bows to her friends. She’s certain that with this, she and her Pokémon will be able to battle and grow closer. This is how her story begins. “Please, help me get stronger so I can challenge the Gym!”

#Little Busters!#pokemon #fanfiction #Natsume Rin #Naoe Riki #Kamikita Kojirou #Inohara Masato #Miyazawa Kengo #Gracidea Blossom #Sinnoh

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thebmatt · 3 years

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FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #15: Thunderous

thunderous – relating to or giving warning of thunder, very loud, powerful, or intense

It had been something of an eventful few days for the Warriors of Light. A cure for tempering, found. A civil war within Limsa Lominsa, averted. The first step towards peace with a beast tribe, taken. Had it not been for the strange towers appearing all across the star, not to mention Fandaniel introducing them all to his new version of Bahamut, it might have actually been called a good few days.

It was all of these events that had brought them to Gridania on this day. Kan-E-Senna and her subordinates within the Twin Adder needed to be briefed on all that had occurred, so they could begin making plans for how best to use their soon-to-be arriving flock of porxies. Privately, Rheika thought it would be hilarious to just let them all arrive and watch the chaos unfold as the Elder Seedseer and the Hearers of Stillglade Fane attempted to figure out just why there was a sudden mass of flying pigs in their city, but alas, getting their beastmen neighbors untempered and beginning overtures of peace was too important.

They’d spent the past few bells getting her up to speed on all that had transpired, explaining how the porxies actually functioned, how to route any communications that needed to be passed to the Scions concerning the towers, describing the appearance and capabilities of this “Lunar Bahamut”, and the like. Many had offered to make the report in their stead, but for now there was little for the Warriors of Light to actually do at the moment, and since they’d been present firsthand, they felt themselves the logical choice to inform the remaining Alliance leader who’d not yet been apprised of recent events.

As they left the Lotus Stand, emerging from the path that led to the Seedseer’s private altar into Gridania proper, Rheika gave a brief nod to both the Serpent Officer and the Conjurer stationed there, and briefly looked around. As usual, there were plenty of blue-robed conjurers going about the business of dealing with the many bureaucratic matters Stillglade Fane was responsible for. Petitioners asking for blessings for their harvest, permission to sell new wares within the city, a few asking for healing. Rheika fought to keep a sneer from her face. Gridania was for all intents and purposes a theocracy, nothing allowed to be done without the blessings of the Elementals.

She didn’t particularly trust the Elementals. She might have been born here, but her community of Keepers of the Moon generally paid them no mind. They’d lived there for generations without so much as a thank you to the elementals outside of simply taking care of the place they lived in, not over hunting or despoiling the land, and no nature spirits or treants had ever so much as bothered them. Any talk she’d ever heard of the Elementals had long since come to resemble talk of Primals rather than some benevolent forest Gods that allowed people to dwell within their boughs.

Learning how Stillglade Fane actually functioned had made it far worse. The “Hearers”, the blue robed conjurers that made up the staff of Stillglade Fane, were barely able to actually hear the voices of the Elementals. Mastery of that particular skill was unique only to the small population of horned humanoids known as the Padjals. Their small numbers meant they were spread out through the Shroud dealing with major problems, with the only two permanently in Gridania being E-Sumi-Yan (who was permanently needed within the Conjurer’s Guild as head teacher) and the Elder Seedseer herself. Both were endlessly busy, far too much so to handle all of the requests from the citizens that needed to be answered. Thus the Hearers had developed a series of rites and rituals to attempt to divine the Elementals’ will, which they utilized in answering the day-to-day petitions brought to their doors.

Rheika had never known what exactly these rituals consisted of, but Dahkar had attended a small class on them as part of his training as a Conjurer. As an adventurer, he was not expected to serve as an official part of the Fane, but the Hearers made the class open to all students of the guild, in case they perhaps wished to utilize them in their travels through the Shroud. He’d told her what he’d learned in the quick lesson, most of the rituals consisted of what was essentially the casting of lots using leaves and sticks, and using their best interpretation the patterns that emerged. It had all seemed utterly foolish to her, and she’d seen more than one instance of a Hearer going rogue and forcing his own interpretations of the Elementals’ will onto others, only to be revealed as incorrect later on.

Rheika hated this place. She wanted to get out of here and head back home to the Rising Stones as quickly as she could. Her fellow Warriors of Light were following behind her, chatting amicably about dinner plans. They had a few other matters to discuss, but outside the guild was a poor place to do it, the Hearers did not care for loitering without official business. She traipsed forward, making for the aetheryte shard placed not far from the Guild’s entrance, already envisioning her destination, the city’s main aetheryte plaza, in her mind’s eye. She’d almost reached the shard when a series of voices reached her sensitive ears.

“-please, you must do something!”

“The girl’s only seen twelve summers!” “I’m sorry, but such is the will of the forest.” “But that’s not right!”

Rheika stopped, her hand inches away from attuning range. The words played over in her head. “Twelve summers”. “Will of the forest”. “Not right!”. She turned to look in the direction they’d come from. An elezen, a hyur, and a lalafell, all similarly garbed with upset expressions on their faces were speaking with a Hearer. The Hearer, a hyur man, was making a series of exaggerated gestures as if talking to children. Rheika wasn’t entirely certain what to make of the petitioners, perhaps a blended family or workers at an orphanage, but it was clear that a girl in their care was needing help, and their cries were falling on deaf ears.

Few things enraged the Warriors of Light more than the inflicting of suffering on children.

She turned to the others, who had noticed her change, and looked to her with anticipatory expressions on their faces. She held up her palm, then tilted her fingers away from herself twice, a clear back up and wait signal. The others immediately backed off and stood away, near the treeline. She nodded, and turned to walk up behind the Hearer. She tried to keep the anger bubbling within her down as she spoke, only mostly successfully. “Excuse me, but what is going on here?”

The hearer didn’t even turn around, simply sighed and waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Move along, outsider, if you’ve business with Stillglade Fane, you must wait, not interrupt-”

“Listen up, you moss-addled twat! First of all, I was BORN in this forest. Second of all, turn your ass around and LOOK at who you are talking to!” Rheika thundered.

The hearer turned “How dare you? If you really-”. His words cut off with a gasp. “Y-you’re Rheika Aliapoh. One of th-the Warriors of Light!”

“Good boy.” she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms and giving him a disapproving look. “Unfortunately for you, you used your turn to piss me off. So now, I’m talking to them.” She looked over to the trio of petitioners, her face more sympathetic. “Hi, I’m Rheika. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

The hyur woman wiped away tears falling down her face. “H-hi. My name is Lina….my daughter Dani is sick. We think it’s Greenrot. She’s holding strong now, but it’s getting worse. We came to the Conjurer’s guild for healing but…they’re saying it’s the Elementals’ will that she die!”, Lina said as she burst into tears. The Elezen male put his hands on her shoulders and looked at Rheika. “We’ve been friends with Lina for years, and we all moved in together when times got tough for us all. Mani’s like a niece to us. Please, can you….” he trailed off.

Rheika nodded to him and turned back to the hearer, absolute fury in her face. “And you’re just going to let that girl die?”

“I-it’s not like I WANT to, but-”

“It’s a fairly simple fix, hearer. One quick Esuna cast. Hell, I’ve only had rudimentary conjury training and I know it. Surely a big bad hearer like yourself ought to be familiar with it” she said, venom dripping from her voice. “Less than a few minutes of your time, and that girl gets to live. And you’re gonna sit there and let her suffer and probably die. A CHILD.”

His face contorted into an ugly sneer. “Look, I wouldn’t expect a keeper of the moon like you to understand, given how much your kind seems inclined to just take whatever they want from the forest without-”

Rheika reached back towards the gunblade she carried strapped to her back, stopping just short of actually grabbing the hilt. “You keep talking. Give me a reason.”

“You come here to this place and try to tell ME, who has trained to hear the Elemental’s voice for years, how to do my job? You can’t POSSIBLY understand-”

“And what about me, Hearer?” intoned Dahkar’s steely voice as he stepped towards them, coming from behind Rheika. “Surely you’re not such a tremendous idiot as to believe I cannot understand, correct?”

The Hearer spun to regard him, anger on his face immediately vanishing as he blanched. Dahkar was over seven fulms of very angry looking Au Ra, clad in the pristine white robes that the Hearer had only ever witnessed the Padjals wear. “Y….you’re…you’re the one the Padjals trained in the White? But…you’re not even of the forest!”

“Wrong answer. The correct response is ‘No, Dahkar of the White, Warrior of Light, I know you understand. Also I’m going to apologize to Rheika and throw myself at her mercy before going to heal the diseased child’. Do you see the difference?”

“I….I will not be spoken to this way!” the man said, stamping his feet. “I am a Hearer, charged with listening to the wills of the Elementals and ensuring the people of Gridania live according to their will, lest we awaken the Greenwrath! Who are you, a man clearly of the Far East, to question how-”

“Gonna stop you right there.” Dahkar growled. “First of all, you really should stop making judgements about where someone is from based on what they look like. I might have been born in the Far East, that’s true, but I’ve lived in the Shroud since I was a babe, just like Rheika here.”

Rheika smiled innocently.

“Secondly, I’ve been through Conjurer training, clearly. I’ve seen how the Hearers work. The only people who can directly hear the Elementals, much less communicate with them, have horns on their head, and I don’t mean this kind” he continued, tapping the large black-scaled horn on his own head. “You and I both know a lot of being a Hearer is using your own good judgement and hoping the rituals you’ve devised over the years give you the correct result. Lot of room for error there.”

The Hearer pondered that for a moment. “Well, yes, I suppose there are instances of Hearers being wrong. I do recall that kerfuffle with the animal exhibits outside the Leatherworker’s Guild…” He looked up in realization, then began delivering with the gusto of a professional orator. “Ah, but even you must admit that if the people lose faith that the Hearer’s word is that of the Elementals, then chaos shall reign in the city! Every pronouncement we make will be endlessly questioned, or even ignored! The peaceful symbiosis we have achieved will be undone, and the Greenwrath will be upon us all! Yes, surely even you must agree to that?!”

Dahkar’s laughter drew the attention of other nearby Conjurers, who were suddenly very interested why their fellow was loudly arguing with a Warrior of Light and a White Mage, no less. “Or you could simply exercise better judgement and not leave the healing of the citizenry that are supposed to be in your care to blind chance, perhaps? Or are you going to seriously tell me you think the Elementals have an opinion on the health of a single member of the community?”

Rheika idly watched them continue to go back-and-forth with their arguments. In truth, she was hardly interested in the debate. She was more interested in keeping the count she’d quietly started running in her head ever since drawing the Hearer’s attention to herself.

Now, she reckoned, that count had gone on long enough. The Hearer was now going on a tangent about equilibrium in nature when she interrupted him. “Thanks for hopping in there, Dahk. I was afraid I was losing his attention”

Dahkar turned to her and smiled, crossing his arms. “Reckon we gave them enough time to get it done?”

Rheika turned towards the path that led from Stillglade Fane to the rest of Gridania. “Well, I can’t see any sign of them, so I’d say it’s definitely gotta be close enough.”

The Hearer sputtered. “What…what exactly are you two talking about?”

Rheika smiled ever so sweetly at him. “Aren’t you forgetting about someone, Hearer? Or rather, ‘someones’?”

The Hearer, shocked, spun around. The three petitioners were no longer there, and as he frantically looked around the area, he saw no sign of them. “What? Where…where did they go?”

Dahkar laughed again. “Well, if we timed this right, our companions have hopefully gotten them back to their dwelling by now and are using their own healing skills to cure the little girl! They might not know anything about Conjury, but they’re pretty good in their own right. Fearless is an expert in Sharlayan Astrology, and Franks has revived the teachings of the Scholars of ancient Nym!”

The Hearer was dumbfounded. He flailed about, as if he felt like he should do something, but had no idea what. “But…the Elementals…what if this angers them? What if…”

Rheika sighed through his abbreviated rant and cut in “If the Elementals get THAT upset over this, then I’m sure the Seedseer and the other padjals can calm them down, like they have to do entirely too often anyway. Given how little they seem to care about the million other things affecting the Shroud, I doubt they’ll even notice.”

She turned to regard the other assembled Hearers and other Conjurers. “But if they do? And Kan-E-Senna can’t get through to them?” She smiled. “Well, my friends, luckily for you, we’re the Warriors of Light. We have a fair amount of experience dealing with powerful beings made of aether that care little for the lives of the mortals around them.”

She crossed her arms and smiled happily. “So I wouldn’t worry. We’ll be here to protect the people of Gridania and the rest of the Shroud if it comes to that!”

She turned and walked out of the Fane. Dahkar gave a confident smile (which most non-Au Ra would agree looked more sinister than simply confident) and nodded to the assembled Hearers before turning and following her out.

The Hearers would spend several days debating their words and whether or not they should bring them before the Seedseer. In the end, they simply opted to wait and see what would come.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Rheika Aliapoh #Dahkar Darkspear #oldmanfranks #Fearless Willow #I'm not a fan of the Hearers can you tell

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snakeboistan · 4 years

Text

You Came And You Took This Heart

Pairing: Karmagisa

“This is nice,” Nagisa murmured, head resting on Karma’s shoulder as he snuggled closer to the inviting warmth that the taller boy was exuding.

Karma looked down at the petite blue-haired boy that had invaded his heart and mind, who had seen him in all his wild, uncontrollable, borderline sadistic glory and instead of running away, welcomed him with open arms and blinding smiles, who had knocked down the inviolable walls he spent years building and had slithered into the darkest parts of him. It was laughable, really; how this small, weak-looking little thing who flinches at the sight of punches had the most violent and dangerous student in the whole school in the palm of his hand - and what’s even more funny was that Karma wouldn’t have it any other way. He gave a small smile at the way Nagisa’s large cerulean eyes, the only eyes that saw him - the real him, with all of his faults - and still shined with awe and wonder, was digesting the sight of the velvet sky, splashed with hues of blues, purples and indigos and dotted with specks of silver, with such amazement. It was Karma’s idea to come here, to the cliff-side where he did that questionable solo assassination attempt, just so that the two of them can spend the final hours of Nagisa’s birthday, lounging on the grass, away from the loudness of their classmates, “really?”

Nagisa huffed out a soft laugh, “yeah, I’ve got to say that star-gazing was a good idea.”

“You don’t have to say it like that. I come up with good ideas all the time.”

“Karma,” even though the other wasn’t looking at him, Nagisa was sure that he was aware that he was rolling his eyes, “most of your ‘good ideas’ involve someone either getting hurt, embarrassed or permanently traumatised.”

“I know,” Karma said brightly, “aren’t you lucky to have such an awesome boyfriend.”

Nagisa just gave a disbelieving sigh as he shook his head, deciding not to retort, before taking a deep breath and releasing it to whisper, “it’s just so quiet and peaceful. I like it.”

Slowly he slid his hand into Karma’s, smiling when he felt the other’s fingers squeeze his ever so slightly. It was these moments that Nagisa adored and yearned for. Whilst the Karma he sees everyday in class was a being of awe and admiration - with his sharp wit, biting remarks, challenging smirk and a highly intelligent mind that runs a hundred miles an hour - the Karma that was sitting next to him right now - the Karma that lets him borrow his jacket when he’s cold and lets him sleep on him when he’s tired and gives him hugs that cover him with warmth and offer him protection - makes the butterflies that flap around in his stomach melt into this warm fuzzy feeling that makes Nagisa feel so vulnerable yet unstoppable. Being raised in the household he lives in makes him question his worth, makes him wonder if he’s ever even wanted, but when the same teenager that can make grown men scream in terror looks at him with warm eyes that are filled with nothing but endearment and touches him with a gentleness that no one else but Nagisa knows that he’s capable of, well, all of the worries and self-doubt evaporate into nothing because if the same brilliant person who gets above 90 in every test and can take a person down with both his words and fists faster than blinking considered him someone worth being around then there’s got to be something about him.

“You know,” Karma mused as he threw an arm around his smaller frame and tugged him closer, “even though it was your birthday I felt like I was the one getting treated by spending it with you.”

Nagisa whipped his head towards him, smacking the other’s cheek with a wild pigtail. Karma smirked, playful eyes drinking up the delightful blush that had spread across Nagisa’s face as well as the way that the dim moonlight illuminated his face in the best way possible, making his azure irises almost glow under the darkness caused by his bangs and his long eyelashes to cast crescent-shaped shadows over his pale, luminescent skin. His voice came out in a mischievous cadence, “now what’s with that look, Nagi?”

Nagisa scrunched up his face in a pout that could only be described as ‘adorable’ and honestly looked more like an upset puppy than whatever disgruntled glare he was hoping for before looking down and murmuring with embarrassment, “you can’t just say things like that. You know that I get all flustered.”

“Ohoho, Nagisa,” Karma said smugly, using the curved side of his index finger to push Nagisa’s head up so that he could meet those beautiful eyes head-on, “do my words that much of an effect on you?”

Nagisa hit him lightly with a petulant expression, “you know they do. It’s not fair.”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair,” Karma smirked, “since you were being so mean at your birthday party.”

Nagisa rolled his eyes at that reminder. The class decided to throw a surprise party at Nakamura’s house to celebrate him turning another year older. Whilst he was spending the day with Karma, Sugino and Kayano, the others had congregated in their resident English expert’s house and prepared the best party he’d ever been to (which might have something to do with the fact that there was an entire table covered with sushi). He felt so lucky and grateful to be in a class that was filled with such loving and caring people. What he wasn’t grateful for, however, was that Karma kept on attempting to give him a ‘couple’s version of birthday punches’ by giving him fifteen kisses instead - to the surprise of literally no one. Nagisa was on guard throughout the entire afternoon, doing whatever he could to stop another dose of humiliation caused by Karma’s excessive need for PDA. Although, once the party was over, Karma spared no time whatsoever in pulling him into an abandoned alleyway and kissing him breathless against a wall before they started their ascent of the E-Class mountain so the redhead really has no room to complain. Regardless, since there was no one here, what’s the harm of allowing both of them to let loose a bit, “it’s still my birthday you know. I’m sure there’s time for you to give me all fifteen.”

Karma brightened up, eyes lighting up with familiar playfulness, “is that so?”

“I suppose so.”

Karma brought face upwards whilst simultaneously bringing his own down so that the two of them could meet in the middle. Nagisa gasped, eyes going wide; it didn’t matter that they have been dating for a while - every single time Karma would kiss him, fireworks would start erupting in his head like it was their first time. Nagisa’s arms automatically found their way around Karma’s shoulders before his brain could even tell them to go there, his body acting on its own accord as his mind went blank and then began working again only for every thought to be consumed by the teenager in front of him. His eyes were closed but he knew exactly what the other was doing, with the way he felt Karma’s lips curve into his usual smirk, with the way he felt Karma’s fingers digging into his cheeks as the redhead pulled their already close faces even closer. Nagisa held onto the back of Karma’s shirt collar with all of the quickly-draining strength he had as he could feel the oxygen seeping out of him (he did not want a repeat of that time he fainted mid-kiss, thank you very much). Thankfully, Karma could sense his struggle to give out completely and drew back, panting. With a self-satisfied smirk, he made a show of looking Nagisa up and down like a jerk - a jerk that Nagisa would walk through hell hand in hand with. Snaking one arm around the bluenette’s waist, he used the other to cup his cheek before whispering, “One down, fourteen to go.”

Laughing and shaking his head at Nagisa’s startled look, Karma brought Nagisa’s head closer so that he could peck a kiss to his forehead, “two-” three to his right cheek “-three, four, five-” three to his left cheek “-six, seven, eight-” four down the column of his neck “-nine, ten, eleven, twelve-” one on the tip of his nose “-thirteen-” and a final one right on his lips “-and fourteen.”

Still feeling light-headed, Nagisa laughed weakly, “nice to know that you can count, Karma.”

“Well, I did get a hundred percent in maths on the mid-term.”

Nagisa wondered if anyone ever told Karma he looks like a peacock when he sticks his head up like that.

“So did you enjoy your birthday?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I did. Spending time with you and Sugino and Kayano at the mall is always enjoyable and then to go over to Nakamura’s to find out that everyone prepared a surprise party for me. It’s just - just so,” Nagisa’s voice choked up as he could feel his emotions building up. He would forever thank the heavens that he got exiled to E-Class. Never before in his life had he ever felt so happy and loved and - god, was he crying? “I’m so happy that I got to spend it with all of them. I don’t know what I did to deserve them.”

“Hey, hey, don’t speak like that,” Karma chastised lightly, using his thumb to wipe away the wetness around Nagisa’s eyes, “you deserve everything. Speaking of which, I hope you liked my present.”

“Karma, I already told you that I loved it. But seriously, you didn’t need to get me all of those comic books. Some of them aren’t even sold in Japan - how did you get them?”

“Ahh,” Karma smiled mysteriously as he patted the bluenette’s head, “that’s for me to know, Nagi.”

“Hey,” Nagisa looked at him dryly, “you should treat your elders with respect you know. Seeing as I’m older than you now.”

“Never have, never will,” Karma remarked with a smirk, “you ought to know by now that I don’t ever do things that I should. That’s what makes me so great.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one?”

Karma nodded before sobering up slightly, as if he just got hit by a thought, and turned to him with a look, “I do have another present for you, though.”

Normally, the thought of Karma giving him something would fill him with slight weariness but the rare earnest expression that had found its way on the face of the boy that was always confident and carefree made the flame that kindled Nagisa’s heart begin to flare, “what is it?”

With a deep breath, Karma reached into the inside of his pocket with one hand and took hold with one of Nagisa’s hands with the other. He positioned Nagisa’s hand so that his palm was facing upwards before dropping something cold and metallic on it. Nagisa brought his own hand in front of him to inspect the mystery gift before gasping. It was a small keychain with a picture of the exterior of the comic book store that Nagisa and Karma met each other in for the first time on that fateful day that their friendship began. Curling his fingers around it, Nagisa couldn’t help but wobbly whisper, “Karma…”

“I just, I know it’s not much,” Karma looked so strange when he was embarrassed - that uncomfortable expression looked wrong and out of place on someone like him, who was always so sure of himself and his abilities. Nagisa couldn’t help but melt at the way the red head rubbed the back of his neck, feeling himself falling for the boy all over again due to the fact that he, Shiota Nagisa of 3-E, was able to make the so-called devil incarnate blush in such an endearing way, that Karma allowed himself to be vulnerable and insecure in front of someone that he could probably break the spine of with two fingers, “it’s just that, well, when I think about you and how you make me feel, I just - I - god, I’m really bad at this. It’s just that everyday, whenever I realise that I’m dating you, I just can’t believe how lucky I am that I ran into all those years ago and how lucky I am that someone as sweet and kind and good as you saw something in someone like me that made you want to be friends with me and yeah.”

“I love it,” Nagisa breathed, noticing Karma’s annoyance at his own anti-climatic speech, he knew that the redhead found it hard to convey his own emotions, found it hard to lay himself bare and raw in front of another person, but with Nagisa he tried and that was enough, “I love it so much. Thank you, Karma. Thank you.”

Without another word, Nagisa threw his arms around Karma, toppling the two of them over with the eagerness in the forceful way he slung himself. Once Karma’s back hit the soft grass, Nagisa nestled his head in the crook of the other’s neck, taking a deep breath before lifting it up slightly and planting a sweet kiss on the taller boy’s cheek with a smile. Karma’s eyes widened as he shifted so that he could get more comfortable, looking up at the bluenette in delayed surprise. With a laugh, Karma brought one hand around the smaller boy’s waist and another to tenderly brush away his fringe, “well, I’m glad you like it so much.”

Nagisa’s eyes light up, putting all of the stars in the galaxy to shame with their entrancing brightness, “I’m glad that you’re glad. By the way, do you think you could let go of me? My arms are starting to ache.”

Once the blue-haired boy was able to free his arms, he rolled off of Karma and, ignoring the whine the other gave at the loss of contact, laid down next to him. Karma turned around so that the two of them were directly facing each other. Neither of them uttered a word as they basked in each other’s presence, taking in every feature the other’s body had displayed with a smile that only they could interpret. In times like these it was easy to forget everything - that they were not only junior high students but also assassins with their teacher as their target, that they were teenagers who were outcasts but also given the mission to save the world, that at the end of the day the Earth was one day closer to getting blown up - because instead of thinking of the future, every thought running through their heads was about here and now.

“Happy birthday, Nagisa,” Karma whispered.

“Thank you, Karma,” Nagisa replied with a soft voice before turning over and looking face-up at the sky, “the stars sure are beautiful tonight.”

“They sure are,” Karma said, not taking his eyes off of the boy in front of him.

‘Shiota Nagisa’, Karma thought, ‘give me a few years and your next birthday present will be my family’s name.’

#assassination classroom #my writing #karmagisa #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota #akabane karma #karma akabane

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