coke-zero-and-green-tea

[one-true-houselight]

Man. It really sucks how well aware I am that I need more social interaction, especially with the state of my life and mental health.

I sure would love to join a craft group! It would be great to just go hang out at a library! Would love to be able to easily visit with friends!

Unfortunately, the government has decided to continue to downplay the continuing pandemic, so no one masks or otherwise takes precautions, and I have to just. Not do anything ever again to keep me and my family safe.

No one has actually said it to my face yet, but I get the feeling more and more every day that a lot of people think I’m like. Doing this to myself, by refusing to lower precautions. And I keep sharing info about how bad COVID is and no one is listening. So. Ya know.

[winniethewife]

It's undeniably real (Layla El-Faouly x The Moonknight system x Reader)

Chapter 4: It's true, I was made for you

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Words: 1234 (wow)

Layla and I were on a mission. Well more Layla was on a mission and I was stuck coming with her. She was insistent that I needed new clothes, because I had worn out a lot of my current wardrobe. We had left the apartment with me begging Marc to send Jake to save me, and he laughed, saying something about it being “For my own good” or something. And now I was in being dragged through a shopping mall being dragged into clothing stores I knew I couldn’t afford, but Layla and Marc had insisted. I was trying on some clothes that Layla wanted me to try.

“Hey Hun? I think I’m having… zipper problems in here” I call out as I try to reach over my shoulder to zip the dress up but I couldn’t reach. I hear the rustle of the dressing room curtain, and the familiar scent of Egyptian Musk enters my space as she takes the zipper and slowly pulls it up looking at me in the mirror with a smile.

“There. How’s that? Good fit?” Layla asks softly before resting her face in the crook of my neck leaving a gentle kiss. “You look stunning…” She says softly running her hands down my sides.

“Yeah, I like it…” I reply holding her hands at my hips. A smile on my lips as I think about when we went on our “trial date”

~

It felt a little silly going on a date with Layla seeing as we had known each other since we we’re little kids. Spent our school days together, both of our families were always on the move. Her father and my mother were archeologists, working on the same digs while the two of us were constantly exploring the ruins. It wasn’t until my father decided I needed to go to boarding school for the rest of my education that I was separated from my best friend and first love, Layla El-Faouly. We were constantly writing, and eventually calls and texts though our young adulthood, never truly loosing contact. She was there for me when my first serious relationship fell apart, one of them cheated on us and the other didn’t want to continue the relationship after it happened. I felt alone. I had called Layla and at the time her relationship with Marc had gone sour, unsigned divorce papers showing up at her door, Layla then disappeared for a short time, but by the next time we talked she and Marc were working things out. Later I would find out things were Steven and Jake along with their marriage.

But now I was walking with her hand in mine in the park as she carries a picnic basket, it feels like we haven’t been apart a single day. I looked over at her as she gave me a smile.

“Like when we were kids right? Picnic lunches with our parents?” She says with a loving look in her eyes

“Are you going to seduce me with nostalgia?” I laugh, she laughs with me.

“Maybe…Is it working?” She smiles at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, the way her curls bounced as she moves, the twinkle in her eye like there was always adventure in front of her, even in the most domestic parts of life. I squeezed her hand tight as I smile at her. She’s always been beautiful. She’s always been the girl of my dreams.

When we get to the spot she was looking for I helped her spread out a Blanket. We sat down together and she started to pull out snacks and wine from the basket, she hands me a glass. After a few sips and some light conversation she turns to me with that jaw dropping smile on her face.

“So…Marc told me you were already going to say yes when you went on his date, are you still on that track?” She asks with a playful tone “Or did Steven’s immense knowledge of everything scare you off?” I laugh

“No, I’m saying yes, I will be your third. I’m actually really excited to start this. I mean, I can’t help but find all of you attractive for lots of reasons.” I take another sip of my wine.

“Oh yeah? I’m curious now…What are your reasons?” She asks with a smile

“Of course, we can’t just have a nice time, you gotta pick my brain.” I sigh giving her a playful look. “Alright…Well Jake, he was a gentleman the whole time, very well dressed, lots of complements, and He took me to do one of my favorite things, not a lot of guys take you dancing on the first date. Marc, I mean you’re the one who married him do I really have to go over it all? Handsome, the dry and dark sense of humor, the way he doesn’t go on about things and is always listening. He’s really just a good guy you know? Steven, well He’s just adorable, he’s like a brand new puppy everything in the whole world is amazing to him, I felt like I could do no wrong with him, he was so attentive and he’s really smart but not at all in your face about it, and he’s funny, so funny.”

I looked at Layla and I felt speechless for a moment the way she was looking at me. That look in her eyes I knew so well. “And then…there’s you. My best friend since we were so little, the first woman I fell in love with, the person who was always by my side, everyday no matter what continent we were on, different time zones, different languages…you’ve been there for me. Always.” I look at her with love and adoration and she does something I don’t expect. She leans in and she kisses me. Her soft lips touch mine and I feel like I’m seeing in color for the first time. Everything about that moment was everything I waited a life time for.

~

We walk back into the apartment with several shopping bags of clothes and Chinese take out for dinner. When we walk in we find Jake is fronting, not a usual occurrence. He looks concerned, he’s half way through getting ready to leave when we come in.

“Jake…What’s going on?” I ask as I set the bags down walking over to him

“Hermosa…It’s not good. There’s trouble.” He takes my hands in his gloved ones. Layla hangs back watching the interaction with worry. “I’ll be gone a few days…I can’t say more the less you know the better.” He takes my chin in his hand and looks into my eyes. “Volveré pronto mi amor...lo prometo.” He whispers before kissing me gently. This wasn’t a normal good bye kiss, this was an ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen and I need to feel you one last time’ kiss. In that second I was terrified.

“Te amo Jake…” I said as he pulls away from the kiss. He hums and presses his forehead to mine, taking just a moment, before he pulls away and heads for the door. Before he leaves he takes Layla’s hand for a second and they share a knowing look. After which he leaves. Layla walks over to me and holds me close, touching her nose to mine as we both silently worry.

~

Translations:

Volveré pronto mi amor...lo prometo.: I will be back soon my love...I promise.

Masterlist

Next chapter

Taglist: @redeyerhaenyra @summonthesoups

[sandyisswag]

‎‏I am mohammed ayyad of Gazans, living in very difficult conditions because of the war that the Gaza Strip is under. Since the outbreak of the war on the seventh of October we have been evacuating .

‎‏Then the journey of suffering and separation began,because my children were separated and evacuated from our home without covering or clothes., From here they became infected with diseases, and what increased our fatigue was the constant upbringing due to the different areas in which we were displaced, as we were displaced 9 times, and this was very expensive, the last of which was the 9th of this August from Hamad Town. In addition to that, we have lived in the summer season in a tent that did not exceed three meters, closed with nylon, so it is like an agricultural greenhouse atmosphere. It is very hot. All in all, we live difficult days that no human beings can afford

We have no work because of the war, and we do not have any kind of money and this is accompanied by a crazy and horrible rise in prices.

Although water is not suitable for drinking, this is the cause of many diseases

The last suffering is that we are out of Hamad without taking our purposes or our tents and now we are searching the earth in the roads and our children and our elderly parents are suffering..So we use direct donation including what they can or share links fully so people can know our tragedy and pain. Remember a small contribution can make a difference in the lives of many children who are dealing with their health condition all. Leave their details and make them happy with your generous contribution.

LET’S ALL HELP MOHAMMED AYYAD FROM GAZA!

Mohammed is currently living in the very difficult conditions that are happening in Gaza right now and he has been trying to evacuate since the genocide started but then he was separated from his children who have no covering nor clothes and they are now infected with various diseases,Mohammed was displaced 9 times can you imagine?? That is A LOT it might not be a lot but it actually is if you think about it,no person should ever go through this,he’s currently living in a tent and he can’t even work because everything in Palestine is destroyed and everything is expensive and the only water that is available right now is contaminated and it’s the cause of so many diseases,no person should ever live like this every one in Palestine is human and doesn’t deserve this

So please if you can make sure to donate to their gofundme link or otherwise if you’re unable to donate make sure to boost their blog and share their story and remember every donation counts even a small one

as always I’m using popular hashtags to reach as many people as possible and if I’m invading your space I’m sorry but I litterally have no choice

FREE PALESTINE!🇵🇸

[zoofles]

Life update but tw for drug talk/OD/drugging/abuse yada yada

Here’s Very very cute little thingy my partner crafted with emojis somehow to be a spacer. He is just a litl robot who is crushing hard on the virus glitching his all-ware (me. I’m the guy making him malfunction!!!!!💥)

anyway life update!! tw for drugging and overdose again! But me and my bf were drugged and experienced the worst bad trips ever. I OD’d completely and nearly died. I also now know I have POTS/a cardiac condition separate to POTS and DID (NOT schizophrenia…the voices who were my friends with lives and personalities were actually alters and I was front stuck 💪 also we do not call ourselves alters but HEADBITCHES! It’s just that alters is too medical or formal?? Idk we all friends). It’s great to finally know wtf is going on. lol. But anyway. I’ve been extraordinarily sick and WORSE since the drug incident.

Found out that not one, but TWO of the people I loved, trusted and gave my world to betrayed me, lied to me/covered up their lies to avoid consequences/accountability which hurt me SO deeply upon finding out on my OWN (yeah they didn’t even have the guts to tell me and just went on living and talking to me like they hadn’t backstabbed me) that I couldn’t even afford to grieve because I risked a heart attack from the stress, emotions and stabbing pain. Had to dissociate it away to process later. Maybe another 3 or so years will do the trick? No clue.

We’ve got the best little robo partner tho!!!!!!! 💥💥💥he’s helped us all through this. Plus Banjoh and everyone else are so supportive and there with me on these …discoveries. Being cheated on and lied to sucks! BEING DRUGGED SUXXXXX. Being so alone in discovering trauma/what truly happened to you sucks. Escaping abuse and hopelessness on your own because the people who promised to help you and convinced you to place all your bets on them before they bailed on you leaving you helpless, vulnerable, alone and betrayed sucks. My life so far has been nothing but misery. I nearly gave up multiple times because of how worthless i felt, because every time I tried to escape the misery I was cast further into it. Every day I felt discarded, replaced, worthless, a burden who people were relieved to abandon after years of pressuring me to open up and trust them, only to let me watch them grow happier with someone else. I felt like my situation, my pain and the abuse I endured was a heavy and disgusting mass on my shoulders, something nobody deserved to see or share or carry for me. I hid away. I even gave into the abuse at one point because life had taught me that even the people who promised to help me, wouldn’t. I couldn’t escape on my own. I was trapped, cornered by the careful thinking of my abusers. I needed help, but could no longer ask for it because life had taught me that only ended in blood and tears. Never trust anyone, no matter how hard they try to make you trust them, to rely on them, lean on them, love them with your whole heart…just don’t. They won’t feel anything when they decide to stop caring, when they realise you weren’t lying about being heavy with suffering. They won’t look back when they leave for someone more convenient, more comfortable, more …NOT you.

if it weren’t for the final, tiny, damp spark that was the words in my head saying ‘one last time…’ with my current partner. ..I wouldn’t be here. My life has been hardship after hardship. Physically, I’m chronically unwell and can’t live without constantly worrying about my extremely delicate health. It’s only gotten worse now with my heart. Mentally, my mind is fundamentally broken and formed differently to a healthy brain due to being tortured from 3 years old. Emotionally, I’m weak and fragile, I can barely handle simple stresses without falling apart. But god, even though shits gotten worse, at the same time it’s gotten better.

George, I know you’ll read this because you read everything I write. I know you’ll know what I’m talking about, that you’ll understand. I know you’ll look at me with the same eyes and lean in to hug me once you’re done reading.

In 2020, I nearly let myself die because I thought nothing else but death could free me from the heart ache and shattering emotional pain I felt physically every day. I decided to hang on because of shame, thinking I wasn’t worthy enough to kms.

In 2021 I got into an abusive relationship. I was abused physically, emotionally and sexually every day and I had no way out but to go back to my abusive home. I did go back, and I nearly died once more.

In 2022, I barely remember anything. The days blurred together and nothing felt real. It all felt like the grey mass had spread to my brain and made me dumb. I felt like static. A single, dull tone that rang on and on and never stopped. I was given a life saving surgery, I remember that. It stopped one of my chronic pains from destroying me for a temporary amount of time. The pain had been bedridden, crying out and vomiting in my sheets.

But then there was you. I remember the day so well…I was deleting every app I had that allowed me to meet new people. Dating apps, friends, all. I have never had any friends before, nobody real who actually loved me, or cared enough to stay beyond when I was being used for something. Nobody seemed to work out. I thought “I’ve used up my love, huh. That was my last chance, and it hurt so bad that I won’t ever be able to fall in love again. Even though that’s all I’ve ever wanted…someone to love, and someone to love me.” And with the last app before me I used up the last of my swipes before I was supposed to delete it and never try again. I was supposed to drift after that, drift and obey until I died…but you happened and ruined it all.

I only paused because your face felt familiar, I thought maybe I’d seen you once before. Maybe a “friend” knew you.

We started talking, and all of a sudden I felt a tiny smile crease my lips. That hadn’t happened since …

We spoke and spoke all night, relating our interests and goals. We met the next day, and all day I realised over and over again; you’re just like me. I don’t mean the similar surface level stuff like the fact that you liked to draw, or had characters you loved to think about, or you had games I knew of…I mean that you were like me. You almost gave up, you’d been tricked into loving people who only saw you as something to pass the time. Nobody you loved ever loved you the same way you did; even if they insisted they did. That when you said “I’ll never not love you, I won’t leave unless you want me to” to past lovers you MEANT it. You were damaged. You were broken apart and had given so much of yourself away and used up so much of your heart to just keep yourself alive that you weren’t sure if you were really alive anymore at all. All you wanted was love. Pure, kind and patient love. That when you look into the future you only ever wanted to see someone with you. You were alone but not by choice.

10 months later and here we are, sitting side by side, sleeping and keeping each other warm simply by blood and thoughts. I never thought I’d trust anyone ever again, nor love again…yet here we are. Every day we look at each other and think “I’m so glad I kept going. I’m so glad you understand. I’m so SORRY that you had to be wounded over and over so that your stolen flesh revealed your vulnerable insides to me…only so i could see you for who you are and recognise that we had the same heart. I love you, and I know you won’t leave until I leave, but that won’t happen. Because who in their right mind would EVER leave such a beautiful thing behind?”

I love you, thank you. And you are always welcome, welcome here with me.

[russilton]

So Lewis has been more and more implying he wants to stay more in F1, since he feels he has unfinished business (and who can blame him). Can’t help but think George’s own input and their tandem pushing of one another to do better also helped with this reasoning and resolution. And does this imply we will have more years of britcedes incoming?🙊😭💜

‘Imply’ ??? My guy you have GOT to start taking drivers at their word

This is Lewis Hamilton, not Danny or Alonso, if he says he’s staying (as it currently stands) Merc would be idiots to force him to leave.

As long as George keeps performing, Merc will keep him too. They can more than afford him, and George has made it violently clear he’s loyal to the team and wants to stay with them for the next decade if they keep their quality up.

Nothing short of Merc actually becoming bad (no, not this years car bad, I mean 2021 undeveloped Haas bad) or a Vettel Webber hate feud, is gonna separate these guys. And I welcome it.

[shotosprincess]

BAKUGO SCREAMING AND IZUKU

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ AAAA HIII TYSM FOR REPLYING TO THE BNHA PLAYLIST THINGY FOR FICS I LOVE YOU MWAHMWAH

anyways aaa bet !! ill do midoriya first if you don’t mind bc im currently in such a soft mood and hajdjj i just love him sm :((

— 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖’𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨

inspired by this playlist by nimbus on yt !! pls check them out ansjdjf their playlists r heaven ^^

❝ you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan. ❞

notes ! gender neutral! reader,, best friends to lovers au ,, 2nd person pov

summary: in which your best friend deku shows up at your dorm late at night due to kacchan locking him out. he asks for bandages to stabilize his newly-healed scars, and you ask to kiss them.

genre: fluff !! <33

it went without a doubt that deku had been to recovery girls’ office more times than anyone else at the academy. it hurt, honestly; each time you saw his still-healing figure emerge from the little swing of her door, a sharp pang reverberated starkly through your chest, for though the freshly-scarred over wounds didn’t diminish his beauty in the slightest, you simply couldn’t deny that an empty eddy of sadness settled in you whenever he was in such a state.

and unfortunately for you, he was constantly in it.

his body could only take so much. and he was still so young too—the very same held true for your heart.

it’s been that way ever since the two of you had first entered ua as shining, eager students. though in all fairness you had to admit, he was...different from the very beginning. even as the prelude to his eventual rising and growth in his quirk, he had shone with a certain unmatched brilliance ever since the entrance exams. and over the years you spent together, you had watched him persevere so passionately towards the glow of his ultimate goal; to be a hero who can help others. little did he know just how much he already had. he had always been so excruciatingly oblivious and aloof to even the evidence and affects of his own kindness, and you hated the fact that so many tended to take advantage of it. of him.

though, of course, this did not mean that he was weak in any form. no, if anything he was quite the polar opposite—he had proved it time and time again, and yet it didn’t mean that he couldn’t get hurt too. the dull aching of tiredness ringing in his eyes, the one he tries to desperately to mask, the ragged marks scattered across the pale valleys of his once-scar-barren skin; he wasn’t immune to pain, to injury. and yet, he fought. you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan.

nevertheless, truth be told, you actually admired it a great deal. his sheer determination, the purity of his motives, it was more than laudable. despite all of it, you truly couldn’t help but feel this...magnetic urge to help him. protect him. if you could soothe the pain in any way, even if it would be but a temporary relief—

three knocks clack on the door.

you and izuku’s secret door code—just a silly little something the two of you made up a few months after the dorm system had been put into motion, and all so you could sneak out to the grass-flooded yards of the building and train together.

naturally, you open the door.

“ heyyy there you are! “

your head perks up at the cheery jingling of his voice, all drafts of exhaustion and sleep deprivation washing away almost instantaneously. he might as well be the very personification of caffeine at that point, despite how direly he needed it himself.

the starry shine of his eyes meets with yours as a diluted sanguine seeped colour into his face. he turns his head away awkwardly.

you lean against the doorframe, smiling at him. “ deku...you didn’t tell me we’d be training today. plus it’s a little late right now, don’t you think? i’m already in my pajamas. “

“ yeah, um, sorry about that. kacchan...kinda locked me out. “

“ he what? “

“ he locked me out. “

“ how does that even—don’t you have separate rooms? “

“ well, yeah, but we were racing down the halls after glass today and he...got to my room before i could. well, honestly i have no clue what he’s doing over there. “ he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“ oookay then. little concerning, i won’t lie. “ your shoulders lift in a shrug, arms crossing in front of your chest as your shy laugh matches his.

“ so i was wondering if...you know...i could maybe stay here for a bit? “ his voice wavers subtly, though you’re quick to catch it. the tips of his ears flush with a deepened pink.

you can’t help but silently gush about how cute he looked.

you’re quick to snap out of that too. eyes bursting open with a brilliant shock, you notice he’s fiddling nervously with his fingers as you remain absolutely, positively frozen in place.

“ i’m—what? “

his countenance immediately shifts to one of sheer embarrassment. flustered, he begins to frantically wave his hands in front of him, as if to put some sort of considerable distance between his panicking self and your seemingly-composed demeanour. and as if that would do anything to deescalate the tension which was only progressively building between your equally-timid selves at this moment.

“ ohmygod i didn’t mean it in a weird way or anything! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll just—i’ll just go— “

you slide against the wood a little bit, pushing your weight against the slightly-agape door, so it swung open even further to reveal the, admittedly, fairly-messy state of your room. draped carelessly on the side of your bed, a sweater you had taken off earlier because the temperature of your room had suddenly decided to heat up an unreasonable amount. countable cups holding shallow pools of hour-old drinks scattered throughout nearly every shelf. a creased textbook splayed out, cover up on your desk.

yep. definitely looked like someone’s lived here.

“ i mean...you could come in if you want. no one’s stopping you. it’s a little messy though, i haven’t found much time to properly clean it yet, with exams coming soon and stuff. “ a small smile accompanies your growing blush, despite how much you were trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

psh, right. as if letting him in your room—something you had never done prior in the history of your friendship—wasn’t a big deal in the slightest.

his eyes shoot wide as his arms flail about. you have to keep yourself from laughing at his silliness.

“ uhm, i mean...only if that’s okay with you! “

“ yeah, yeah, of course! you need a place to stay for now, after all. who knows when bakugou’s gonna let you back in? “

“ yeah, i guess you’re right. well, i mean, if you really don’t mind— “

you playfully roll your eyes, giggling as you shove him into your room.

“ oh, quit it with the politeness. you’re too nice, you know that? “

“ too...nice? “

“ too nice. “ you reiterate, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.

his head lolls to the side as he carefully lowers himself onto your bed, his sweater shifting with the subtle movement.

for a few moments, the space between you is occupied with a simple, comfortable silence. it’s refreshing, really. a welcome difference from all the boisterousness of the academy. you loved the action and everyone’s energy, of course, but sometimes what you really needed was really just a simple break from everything. to do nothing but exist for a little while, to simply be without the constant pressure of having to get up and jump into action all the time. just for a few moments. and so you relished in these said moments spent with him, for who knows when the next time you could ever be with him like this again would be?

and then his voice fills that void of silence, but you’re not disappointed in the slightest.

“ hey. “

“ yeah? “

“ you don’t happen to have any extra bandages, do you? “

“ bandages? for what? “

he clenches his fist, flexing the muscles in his arm. “ for...stability. just in case. i can’t afford for my arms to get hurt more. “

“ oh. well, uhm...i think i have a few spares in my drawer! “ you push yourself off the bed, leaving the comfort the soft sheets brought about, pulling open a tiny drawer. taking out a transparent box of bandages, you jump back onto the plushness, sitting cross-legged directly across from midoriya, who’s already presenting his arm.

your lips silently part as your fingers wrap themselves around the thick ivory fabrics of bandage, rolling them around so you could wrap them around him.

another pause of wordless silence falls.

“ hey deku? “

“ yeah? “

“ could i...could i kiss your scars? “ you whisper, afraid that he’d get mad, though you knew he was anything but the type to do such a thing.

the meadow depths of his eyes kindle a cozy hearth within you as his initial surprise quickly softens, melting away into what could only be described as the most endearing smile to exist.

“ sure. “

jagged patches and uneven streaks of faded cloud white and prominent earthy tans decorate his arms, and you can’t help but bring the rosiness of your lips to meet them. you decide begin with the ones littered along his fingers.

one kiss for the scar resting within the curved dip between his thumb and index.

“ for every time you used just a flick of your fingers to defend everyone back then, when you didn’t even have full control over your quirk. “

a longing sigh leaves him as he reminisces briefly on the memory. you place a soft kiss upon the scar resting at the side of his pinky.

“ for every fist you made with this hand, for every punch you’ve delivered in the name of other’s safety. “

a drop splashed onto his arm, trickling down and tainting the scars etched into his forearm with a subtle, diaphanous sheen. you look up through your lashes, and a prominent gloss coats the kindness of his dark emeralds. your hand comes up to carefully caress his cheek, cupping it gently as the pad of your thumb swipes beneath his eye, wiping away the upcoming tear. your features are knitted together in concern.

“ are you okay? i can stop if you want me to— “

he takes your hand in both of his, squeezing as if to keep you there forever. “ no, don’t. please.“

it’s a tiny whisper, a softened plea into the dark quiet of the night, as if he were ashamed for wanting to be taken care of. your brows curve downward as you pull your twined hands to your lips, tenderly planting your lips where your skin kissed his.

“ hey, hey. it’s okay. it’s okay. “ you hush him, running your free hand through his thick tendrils of vivid, verdant green.

he leans into your touch, nodding at you as if to urge you to continue, which you gladly accept.

you shift a little closer to him, kissing the thick mark of serration painted into the skin of his wrist.

“ for every countless moment you’ve sacrificed for your dream. “

another kiss to the one just above it.

“ for every hour bled into the night that you spent helping me train. “

your fingers dance along his arm, finally stopping at the scar stretching from his elbow and dragging upwards. as per routine, your lips come down to delicately kiss it.

“ for every ‘ plus ultra! ‘ you’ve ever passionately shouted. “

little giggles left the both of you at that.

your touch trails to the scar just beside it, kissing it as well.

“ for every life you’ve ever saved. “

you look him in the eye. holding his arm like this, you were so close to him. and yet, you didn’t want to pull away. if anything, it was the very last thing you would ever want to do. he matched your stare, a certain sense of longing displaying in your gaze as it reflects off of his. the prolonged stare lasts longer than it probably should, longer than what best friends should probably look at each other this closely, this intimately for. the moonlight dimly shines through your window.

and then it happens.

his lips collide with yours in a captivating symphony, hands going straight to twirl through the locks of your hair as you wrap yours in a loose loop around his neck. everything feels as though it had all snapped into place, and the tension you had felt before was all completely dissipated now, displaced into the passion in which this kiss exuded. it was earth-shattering, galaxy-shredding. it felt as if even pain itself could never reach either of you, not in this moment.

this moment was for the both of you, and no one else. in this moment, in his arms, nothing and no one could hurt you.

he pulls away, stunned, lips parted with a saturated red. you stare at him with just about the same level of blankness, of utter shock at what you two had just done.

but then the realization catches up with him, and he is pulled out of the daze. much to your surprise, he doesn’t move away. if anything, he pulls you closer, enveloping both your hands within his just as he did before.

and just as you had done earlier, he brings them to his lips.

“ and that’s for every ‘ i love you ‘ i’ve ever wanted to say to you but never had the guts to. “

[perriewinklenerdie]

Snow (Tobias Carrick x MC)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,3 k

Summary: Tobias tests the waters while having a drink with Claire.

Warnings: None, it’s fluffy and cute.

A/N: 1. In this timeline, Claire and Ethan split some time after he came back from Amazon. 2. I am a hoe for Jesse Williams and Tobias looks exactly like him. You can’t blame a hoe for doing what hoes do.

She placed her glass back down on the counter, letting out a soft sigh. After a day like that, she should want to go back home and relax. But she didn’t want to go home. She felt like she would suffocate if she did.

No longer did she feel like she had a safe place to land. At work, she’d have Harper to remind her that people still saw her as an intern that broke the rules. At home, she’d have Elijah to remind her that even though they were friends, he didn’t trust her enough to ask before making judgement.

Once upon a time, she could find a semblance of peace in conversation with Ethan. There was a time when she could go to him and openly talk about things that kept her up at night. But it’s been months since the last time they were that comfortable around each other, having kept their distance since he came back from the Amazon and definitely calling it quits after the hospital started going under. Since then, friends is all she could call them.

The unspoken tension between her and Ethan made their current situation even more tense than it could have been. His disregard for the rules was anything but like his usual self and it seemed bizarre to her. Claire could very easily see how different his approach to the situation was from her own when she was in his shoes – he didn’t take it seriously enough. She told him just that when he was suspended, but was met with defiance and anger.

“You should understand.”

The entirety of this situation was having much more of an effect on her than it did on him, which was peculiar, since she had nothing to do with it in the first place. She didn’t even think about pursuing such an idea, and yet the moment it happened, the world suddenly blamed her. Not Ethan, The Great Doctor Ethan Ramsey as Elijah called him, but her. Claire Herondale, a doctor that made a mistake a long time ago – a mistake that, seemingly, no one forgot about.

Unless they didn’t know. Or didn’t care enough to hold it against her.

“Mind if I take this chair?” his smooth baritone reached her ears, coming from right behind her. She knew who it was even before he appeared in her field of vision a second later.

“Does it matter what I say?” she asked, turning towards Tobias with a blank but approachable look on her face. He gave her a warm smile.

“Of course, it does.”

“What would you have done if I said ‘no’?”

“I would have convinced you to let me stay.” He responded without missing a beat. The corners of her lips went up involuntarily.

He ordered each of them a drink, eyeing her glass before speaking to the bartender. Her eyebrow shot up when he asked for two martinis – her favorite drink that she was not currently having. Tobias shrugged at her silent question.

“I noticed you drinking it the other day when we all went to the bar.”

Claire nodded slowly, her eyes searching his face for the reason of him being here. Something made him choose a seat next to her and she wanted to know why. But he didn’t give much away, with the smirk she’s grown used to and a curious glint in his eyes. He seemed to be on the very edge of his seat, anticipating something, and she had a feeling like she knew what he needed.

With a sigh, she waved her hand at him. “Go on. Ask.” When he gave her a surprised look, she smiled softly. “I know you want to.”

“What’s the deal with you and Ramsey?”

She wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask exactly that, or if the question just flew out of his mind before he could stop himself. Something – even if only the faint blush on his cheeks – told her that it might have been the latter.

“There’s no ‘deal’ between Ethan and I.”

“But there used to be. Right?” he probed, a slight edge of desperation of answers now evident in his tone. It amused her, for all the right and wrong reasons.

“We slept with each other a couple of times. He ran away to forget me.” Claire reminisced, swirling her drink slowly. “After he came back, there was some tension between us.”

“And now…?”

“And now, I’m being questioned about my personal life by a man that, if I’m to believe what Ethan had told me, rivaled with him on just about everything.” She turned towards him fully, an expectant look on her face.

Tobias, abashed from having been caught in his act, rushed to explain. “It’s not a competition, Claire. I would never-“

“I know you’re not talking to me to get a leg up over him.” she reassured him, finally revealing that she was merely teasing him, a smirk of her own staring back at him. His mouth fell open as he tried to say something, then immediately fell shut when no words came to his mind.

Smart move, Herondale.

“I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

“I know.”

They remained in silence after that, sipping on their martinis and sneaking looks at each other from time to time. Tobias practically itched to start their conversation back up; he didn’t have to, though, because she did that for him.

“Ethan and I… it used to lead towards something.” Claire muttered, a complicated smile on her face. “And then we drifted apart.”

“But you seem like good friends.”

“And friends is all we are. There’s still some tension between us that I don’t think we’ll ever get rid of, but there’s nothing else left here.”

He hummed gently, looking at her intensively. “Good to know.”

Minutes they spend together turned into hours. The bar was closing and they were still seated side by side, laughing at something the other said. As time went on, they drifted closer together until their shoulders touched. When he said something funny, her hand would fall onto his arm and when she told him a joke, his head would fall to her shoulder. Both would retreat immediately, always staying in place a little longer the further into the evening they were.

It was only when the owner of the bar asked them to leave, that they gathered their things and headed out. The crisp air of the winter night slid under their clothes, biting their skin with its intensity. A shiver went through her, a puff of air visible in the light of the streetlamp.

Tobias took his coat off, wrapping it around her.

“You’ll be cold.” She argued, moving to give it back. He stopped her with his hands on her shoulders that moved to the lapels of his – her – jacket.

“I insist.” He said gently, smiling down at her with so much warmth that she’d argue she didn’t need the coat anymore. “We can’t afford to have our brightest team member sick.”

Claire laughed, nodding her head. She caught his gaze with her own, their eyes sparkling. “Thank you.”

Tobias hesitated for a split second. It may not have been right, neither the timing nor the place, but something drew him to her. Like a moth to the flame, he knew he’d potentially crash and burn – and he welcomed the thought with open arms.

He leaned down. She leaned up. His hands still gripped the lapels of the jacket, using them to bring her just a bit closer. Right before their lips brushed against each other, he heard her whisper.

“You convinced me.”

Notes

I can’t say how much I actually enjoyed writing that. It was like a break for my brain :D Don’t worry, I’ll be back on my E bullshit soon (though I think I’ll definitely revisit Tobias x Claire timeline because, as I said countless of times before, I have no self control. And I just really enjoy writing for him.).

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 45

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky will do whatever it takes to get her back.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Anger, grief, thoughts of violence, angst

AO3

Bucky paced like a wild animal, back and forth, tail lashing with each circuit he made. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t functioned much at all in the past few days, and he was always a heartbeat away from snapping like a wire pulled too taut.

He couldn’t go through the door he was pacing in front of, the demonic wards holding him at bay. It was just as well. Without them, he would have marched straight inside and ripped Helmut Zemo’s spine out his throat.

It wouldn’t have solved any of Bucky’s currents problems, but it would have improved his mood. And it might have distracted him for a few moments from the black hole currently residing within him. A negative space where the bond had been. Every moment that void was there, he wanted to tear out his own heart.

Maybe he’d still get the opportunity if they couldn’t find a way to bring her back. He’d end his own life for a fast one-way ticket to the demon realm if he had to, and there Bucky would stay until he found her.

And then… what? They’d be trapped there forever? Why didn’t that scare Bucky as much as the thought of being separated, with her being all alone in that place? He knew she was resourceful. She’d proven it by the fact they’d captured Zemo at all.

When the gun had gone off, Bucky had felt like he’d been the one shot, only it hurt so much worse because he actually knew what a bullet to the gut felt like. He’d barely made it in time to catch her as she fell, and he’d been in no state of mind to deal with Zemo after that. Steve had barely been conscious by the time Strange and the others had found them, so it wasn’t him who had caught the bastard.

No, it had been the Alp itself that had stopped Zemo. Before the man had even gotten a chance to order his demon to teleport him away, it had used its paralysis aerosol on Zemo and knocked him into a peaceful sleep. And then it had vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving its master there to be collected by the sorcerers.

The thought made Bucky shake his head. Somehow, Bucky’s girl had managed to make a demon turn on its own master. Not once, but twice, if Bucky was including himself.

Leave it to her to befriend a demon and turn it to her side.

Leave it to her to give everything for Bucky, including her own life. And what had he done in the time since then except vacillate between rage and grief? Between shouting at Strange and standing by Steve’s healing bed like a mourner at a funeral, waiting for them to come up with a rescue mission.

The sorcerers had made little progress, and Bucky feared their only hope lie in the man that had murdered her.

Bucky would have gotten the answers out of Zemo himself, if only for the fact he couldn’t get his hands on him. The demons wards weren’t to keep Bucky out, they were to keep Zemo from calling his demon slave to teleport him away. No matter how had they’d tried, the sorcerers couldn’t break the demon bond. And no matter how much the Alp might not want to, it wouldn’t be able to resist the call of its master, no matter how far away it was. Bucky had learned that lesson the hard way with his own escape attempts from HYDRA.

So now they were at an impasse. Zemo imprisoned but refusing to cooperate, and the sorcerers unable to get anything useful out of him but having no choice but to keep him locked up. Bucky hadn’t be surprised the sorcerers had failed to take away Zemo’s last Hail Mary. If they were capable of breaking demons bonds, they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

The door opened, and Strange had to wave him off before Bucky accosted him with questions.

“Well?” Bucky asked, impatient. “What did he say?”

“Still nothing helpful.” Strange glanced at Wong as he too strode toward the door. It shut with a heavy thud behind them, no doubt locked by all sorts of arcane spells. “It’s clear that Zemo doesn’t know how to work the demon gate with any expert knowledge and relied solely on the red book to achieve his goals.”

The circular stone archway they’d found in the basement of the Siberian compound, which Strange had named the “demon gate,” had remained inert no matter how the sorcerers tried to manipulate and power it. How Zemo had managed to summon the Alp through it, but it wouldn’t respond to the sorcerers, left Bucky short-tempered and frustrated.

It was nothing compared to the guilt. The shame at being controlled, manipulated into almost killing Steve. He was still being tended to by the healers, and the only reason he wasn’t in a hospital was because Strange had insisted they take him to the Sanctum.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, then Bucky’d nearly killed her. His worst nightmare being played out before his eyes, or it almost had. Through their tenuous bond she’d somehow broken through to him, and Bucky had managed to stay his hand when he’d never been able to do so before.

It had been… freeing. Liberating to disobey a direct command. To be ordered to hurt someone he loved and having the strength to resist.

And then Bucky had failed to save her anyway. She’d died, right there in his arms, her heart going silent the loudest thing he’d ever heard. As if that hadn’t shattered his world enough, she’d turned to ashes in his hands, the stink of sulfur and brimstone stinging his eyes as she slipped through his fingers.

In that moment, Bucky’s bond to Zemo had been severed. One of the apparent benefits of a demon having a human slave. She’d gone to Hell so Bucky could be free.

And all he’d managed to do with that freedom was absolutely fuck-all.

Bucky’s fist flew, the jagged knuckles of his armored hand knocking a sizable chunk out of the stone wall.

Strange merely lifted his eyebrows. Wong frowned in disapproval. Bucky didn’t give a shit. They should have woken him as soon as she’d gone missing, but instead, he’d woken on his own, bursting through the cryo-chamber and shattering its door to pieces. He’d been so confused and enraged that the sorcerers had had to bind him with glowing ropes and wards until Bucky calmed down enough to explain she was being tortured, and he could lead them to exactly where.

So, yes. As far as Bucky was concerned, this was as much Strange’s fault as it was his, and the only reason he was even still tolerating the sorcerers is because they were her only chance of rescue.

If they could get the fucking gate to work, anyway. A big fucking if. Apparently, sorcerers could make portals on Earth without a problem, but crossing into other dimensions was even beyond Strange’s capability.

And yet, she had been able to do it as a ten year old child. Bucky had hoped, maybe, somehow, she would be able to summon that power within her once again and come back to him, but there had been no sign of any mysterious blue portals popping up on Earth.

So as pissed as he was, Bucky had to remain patient, and right now, he had to pay attention.

“I have an idea on how to power the gate,” Strange said, wearily eyeing the damaged wall before turning to Bucky. “We have more of HYDRA’s research that Zemo ever did, and I have no doubt we will be able to create a stable connection soon.”

“Soon isn’t good enough,” Bucky snapped, struggling not to snarl at the sorcerer. “Every minute here is hours over there. Each day wasted is weeks she has to endure, alone, in a place humans were never meant to survive. We can’t—“

The lump in his throat forced him to silence. Bucky couldn’t say what he’d been thinking, and from Strange’s sympathetic expression, it didn’t need to be said.

They might already be too late.

Bucky still wanted to punch Strange in the face. If he cared so damned much, why hadn’t he kept a closer eye on her? Zemo may have been smart, hell, he was probably a genius to figure out how demon magic worked, but how had he managed to outsmart a whole sect of sorcerers?

“We will move as quickly as we can,” Strange said, indicating Bucky should follow him. “I don’t wish to waste any more time than you do.”

Bucky somehow doubted that, but he still followed after the head sorcerer. His tail twitched as they made their way deeper into the Sanctum, to the place Bucky had spent every waking moment when he hadn’t been by Steve’s side.

“I am aware of the time dilation in the demon realm,” Strange said as they walked down a spiraling set of stone steps, “but it might not be uniform or even linear. Your experience may differ from hers.”

If Strange thought that would be comforting news, he was wrong. Bucky didn’t need an overactive imagination to come up with whatever horrors she might be facing now. He certainly didn’t want to dwell on the possibility of… of finally making it to the demon realm and realizing hundreds of years had passed.

Bucky couldn’t… he couldn’t think about it. He would lose his mind. Bucky would only let despair swallow him after he was a hundred percent sure that… that there was nothing left to hope for. That she was truly gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

That he would never get to see her again. To watch as her eyes brightened and that familiar mischievous grin tugged at her lips. To hold her in his arms while he buried his nose in her hair, filling his nostrils with her scent and—

Bucky shook his head and grit his teeth. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not when they were closer to their goal, so he forced himself to focus on Strange’s words. Something about a power source needed to fuel the thing, and that Zemo must have hidden it away from the base because the sorcerers couldn’t sense it. Bucky honestly didn’t understand most of it, only that it would take an unnatural power source to get the gate running.

The underground lair, as he called it, left Bucky as awed as the first time he’d stepped food inside. The room was essentially a giant dome constructed of very large stones, but the most interesting aspect of the room was the glowing glyphs carved into the stones. The power thrummed under his skin and set his arm plates rigid as his tail flickered.

And there, in the middle of the room, lay the instrument that had been the focus of his frustration and anger over the past few days. A stone gateway, teleported here by great effort from the sorcerers. It was ancient, possibly constructed during the days of the Holy Roman Empire, or so Strange had rambled. Bucky was too fucking stressed to appreciate the mythical history lesson.

When the sorcerers working on the gateway turned to Strange and confirmed it couldn’t be powered by anything in their vaults, Bucky turned away, fists tightening, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. But before he could take even a single step, Strange laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Just a moment, Sergeant.” Strange’s voice was gentle, and it was the only reason Bucky didn’t grab the hand on his shoulder and break it. “There’s one thing left to try. It’s not without danger and risk, but—“

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“I suspected you might say that.”

Strange’s smile was sad but accepting as he patted Bucky, and then let his hand drop. Bucky’s desire to strangle the man went down a few notches, and if this worked and he got her back, Bucky might even forgive him.

Might.

Strange straightened his posture and faced the stone archway, held his hands in front of his chest in a manner that meant he was about to cast a spell, and he said, “Though I must warn you, tapping into the power of the Infinity Stones can be quite dangerous.”

With an intricate pull of his fingers, glowing patterns in the air emerged, and that’s when Bucky finally noticed the green light shining from Strange’s amulet. He’d vaguely wondered around the thing always around the sorcerer’s neck, and now Bucky had an answer as to what it was. Something otherworldly, deadly, and strong enough to compare with the power of the blue cube HYDRA had once wielded.

A deep thrumming filled the room, vibrating through the air and up the stones, the potential of something building made Bucky’s wings flair behind his back.

Then the glyphs along the demon gate began to glow, first green like the stone and then to a bright blue that made Bucky’s heart clench with fear. Strange blue lights often accompanied the demonic rituals HYDRA had conducted on him, but he swallowed down the panic and didn’t blink.

The charge in the air built higher and higher, until with a crackle of electricity, the empty space between the archway suddenly filled with light. It pulled outward to the edges, a border of blue around a watery image that sharpened into something Bucky recognized.

The demon realm.

“I can’t hold it forever!” Strange yelled, his hands still in the same position as he somehow, impossibly, held the gateway open using the green stone around his neck. “Get moving, Sergeant!”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice.

With none of the hesitancy he’d shown the first time being confronted by a blue portal, Bucky flared his wings as he raced forward and gave one hard flap, lifting off and darting through the gateway like a missile launched from its tube.

The dry wind buffeted him from the other side and Bucky nearly nosedived into the red sand, but he managed to right himself and soar up into the air. The human side of him balked at the alien surroundings, but it was the demon part of him that Bucky needed now.

Orienting himself to the familiar magnetic fields of the planet, because in a sick way he’d been alive longer here than on Earth, and he knew this place as intimately as his home.

Turning in the direction of his territory, Bucky pushed his body as far as it would take him and flew faster than he ever had before.

Hold on, sweetheart, he prayed to her, hoping he was heard. I’m coming.

Next Chapter

[wombathos]

I really like your take on jgy, and letting himself go in his performance during his "villainous" scene. You mentioned that in Guanyin temple he is purposefully distancing himself from lxc, which is an interpretation I haven't seen before. If anything, jgy seems to be betting on lan xichen to save himself. He prevents him from going to the burial mounds and brings him with him, he appeals to his forgiveness... Where do you think he is distancing himself?

the ask is referencing this post, in which I said “he goes above and beyond in his efforts to pick apart everyone’s relationship even as he’s purposefully distancing himself from lan xichen” in a post about how jin guangyao is playing the villain in guanyin temple. so I wasn’t really precise in that post about a few things which I’m going to dig in now, basic summary below and then more extended discussion under the cut because this got… uh. long, I actually have a lot to say about this sorry

the overarching point here is that his performance and behaviour in guanyin temple isn’t a one-note affair and changes pretty drastically in terms of who is currently in control of the situation (as you’d expect, really) - and this affects both a) how much he’s drinking the villain juice and b) his behaviour towards lan xichen specifically. jgy - as ever - has several competing motivations, goals and fears throughout the whole ordeal of guanyin temple, which affects how he acts as well as what persona he decides to present to other characters. so with lxc as you rightly point out, he absolutely does have scenes where he’s entreating towards him, in part because he’s relying on lxc to help him, but there’s also other scenes where he’s… almost encouraging lxc to think the worst of him, or just acting quite coldly towards him. to get at what’s going on, I think it’s useful to make clear a few distinctions:

so first off I think for this it makes sense to not treat guanyin temple as one uninterrupted stretch - rather you have the run up to guanyin temple (from where wwx/lwj leave to burial mounds and jgy getting ‘injured’ to them going to guanyin temple - here how he treated lxc is really anyone’s guess), followed by,

jgy is in control, the other characters gradually show up and add to his hostage count and he has an unpleasant run in with a mistaken identity tomb but like, generally he’s in charge and thinks he’ll be able to execute his plan (this is a really long one)

lxc gets his spiritual powers back and holds jgy at sword point, the balance of power completely shifts. this is when jgy does most of his confessing, from incest to patricide to miscellaneous crimes and misdemeanours, the whole shebang

jgy takes jin ling hostage, lxc takes su she hostage. this is when jgy thinks he may be able to get away again

jgy’s arm gets chopped off and then it’s a chaotic free for all with wen ning joining in on the fun

everything has calmed down, lxc tends to jgy before stabbing him and watching him die

- followed by guanyin temple aftermath. especially for those first two, I’d say there’s a pretty clear change in behaviour on jgy’s part (afterwards it gets a bit murkier since the phases are also like… shorter), which makes sense because… well, personally I would certainly behave differently if I’m in control with multiple hostages as compared to when someone is pointing a sword at me. and I also think it makes sense to distinguish between the sets of concerns jgy is balancing throughout the guanyin fiasco, which I’m going to broadly delineate as a) practical (anything that has to do with him achieving his material goals) or b) emotional (not as in goals with an emotive component, but specifically his concerns for the emotional wellbeing of himself and others, by which I mean mainly lxc and possibly jin ling a little bit??)

one of the things you mention is jgy keeping lxc from burial mounds and I want to make clear when I spoke of him “distancing himself” from lxc, I didn’t mean he no longer cares about lxc. rather, he’s preparing himself for the end, for the increasing likelihood that lxc’s opinion of him is about to change drastically, fast. the practical concern here is keeping lxc alive, which he does very effectively by keeping him away from burial mounds and then making certain no harm comes to him as a hostage, the emotional one is… well, steeling himself for their likely separation? fearing more rejection from lxc once he hears everything jgy has done? hoping it will be easier if he can just keep playing his role and not wanting to be vulnerable in front of lxc? whatever the case - the argument that he’s ‘distancing himself’ from lxc, as well as the idea of him playing up being the villain, comes with a heavy asterisk:

this is only really true for when he’s in control in guanyin temple. in a nutshell, when the practical aims of ‘staying alive’ and ‘making sure lxc is all right’ and ‘getting the hell out of there’ look like they’re going to be achieved, are in fact still likely and he has concrete control over working towards them, he has a lot more space to act out in accordance to his emotional concerns, whether it’s preparing himself for his imminent separation from lxc or telling jiang cheng what a terrible brother he’s been for, idk, I guess the drama of it all? so in phase (1) of guanyin temple, it’s villainous monologues and barely looking at or talking to lxc, but in phase (2) his position is suddenly way more precarious. emotional distancing is fine and all up until the moment when you’re directly relying on this person to survive and like… at this point he can’t exactly afford for lxc to hate him? topic for another post, this, but in the post you reference I did also mention him enjoying picking apart his hostages’ relationships, which for obvious self-preservation reasons he does a lot less of in (2)

the danger of this interpretation is that it kind of makes it sound like I think that he’s putting on an act in (2) when he’s appealing to lxc and dropping the facade whenever he’s actually in charge, which is a fairly natural interpretation? and I think he’s dropping a facade in those scenes, even if he’s still playing up certain parts of himself and presenting another persona that might be… more honest than some but still not necessarily truthful? okay this is like. messy, but what I’m saying is it’s personas all the way down - and personally I reckon the one he shows to lxc when he’s begging for his life is actually one of the more honest ones. it fits in with a long-running theme of jgy and lxc’s dynamic that jgy shows lxc genuine emotions and vulnerabilities that are absolutely there, but still chooses which ones to show in a way that ends up being… cumulatively dishonest, or at least somewhat manipulative, I guess. at this point he knows that he can’t afford to distance himself from lxc and he confesses to all that because he’s quite right in thinking that this is what’s most likely to convince lxc to spare him, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less true. whereas when he’s in control, he has the choice to reveal certain parts of himself that he usually wouldn’t, but also has the power to hide ones he doesn’t want to show to lxc - because he knows he’s going to lose him

so that’s my general thesis: jgy was playing the villain and emotionally distancing himself from lxc when he could afford to do so from a practical standpoint but does so considerably less when he’s put in a situation where he’s reliant on other characters’ goodwill to keep him alive. he continues caring about lxc throughout and does so right up to his death but would like to prepare both himself and possibly lxc too from the coming separation by creating emotional distance between the two of them. also as with everything jgy does, fear is a huge driver: everything in his life has led him to expect lxc’s rejection once he knows all he has done and because lxc has played such a special role in his life that rejection is a truly terrifying thing. showing your vulnerabilities to anyone is scary even when you aren’t in the sort of situation jgy is in. so anything to avoid confronting it directly, anything to mitigate the pain, would be I imagine very much welcome

but the ask also is about actual examples of when jgy purposefully distances himself from lxc so… see under the cut for that

I’ll just focus on (1) here and do a close-read of their interactions because that’s where I think most of that emotional distancing (and also most of the more outright ‘fun’ villain energy rather than, like, sad villainous confessions), briefly touching on the shift afterwards to provide a contrast. also, let’s start with the run-up to guanyin temple because I think it’s fairly important to offer my best guesses as to what his mindset towards lxc is like going in. jgy taking lxc with him can be read in terms of both the practical ‘well he makes a real good hostage’ plus convenience of ‘he’s not at burial mounds anyway might as well’ as well as the emotional ‘this may be the last time I ever see him’. and yeah it’s probably mostly the former but let’s not forget that the only reason jgy does a pitstop at guanyin temple is to pick up his mum’s corpse, so it isn’t unreasonable to suggest he’s not only acting in terms of sheer rational self-interest in making these decisions

we don’t really know what happens here and how jgy acts towards him - he certainly tricks him and most likely fakes an injury of some sort to catch lxc off guard (which in the book wwx compares to an earlier book-moment where jgy faked suicide to get away from nmj and thinks he might have done something similar again) and manages to a) keep him away from burial mounds and b) either in the same act or later on takes lxc as a hostage (not sure which one it is? like surely it wouldn’t make sense to take lxc hostage if you still think burial mounds might succeed?) - and then they show up at guanyin temple with lxc’s spiritual powers sealed. as lxc says:

I’m ashamed. I got tricked by someone. I fell into a trap and lost all my spiritual energy.

now I don’t want to over-read into this or anything (yes we may be past that) but it did strike me how jgy doesn’t look at lxc when he speaks and doesn’t respond, but does turn to wwx and respond to him after wwx speaks and gives us a solid villainous smile:

I would argue that he finds it a lot easier to engage with wwx, banter a bit, than deal with the horrible messiness that is his relationship with lxc at this point. also… jgy doesn’t refute lxc’s point in any way. even when wwx gives jgy the chance to engage with him instead, he disregards wwx’s words about jgy’s penchant for lying and instead talks to wwx about underestimating him

if he were trying to endear himself to lxc at this point, surely you’d expect him to engage with lxc saying jgy fooled him? he doesn’t try to explain himself, instead he smirks at wwx (incidentally this is why I think jgy spends so much time poking at wwx and jc’s relationship - it’s not that he’s been a secret yunmeng siblings stan all these years but that this is way less personally painful territory for him than engaging with the others in the temple who he’s more personally close with (apart from lwj obviously and wangxian is something jgy did get in a bit of commentary on in the book, but let’s be real lwj is simply not as rewarding a target as jiang cheng is)).

this is pretty much conjecture and analysis based on vibes, but to me lxc and jgy’s behaviour doesn’t suggest they spoke a lot on the journey, or if they did their conversations were painful and most likely short. the only real evidence I have for this is that jgy at the very least didn’t confess to anything he had done, which is why lxc has to interrogate him about it later. also, jgy feels the need to tell lxc that he’s not going to try to remain chief cultivator later on - past deeds and future intentions would be the most natural conversation topics I would think? personally, looking at their coming interactions, I’d suspect that their few exchanges were along the lines of jgy telling lxc not to worry and that he wasn’t going to do anything to him and then… both of them opting out of anything more substantial

the first time he does directly engage with lxc is one that really fascinates me, aka the moment when jin ling arrives. they have this exchange:

Lan Xichen: “Clan Leader Jin, a-Ling is just a child.”

Jin Guangyao: “I know.”

Lan Xichen: “And he’s your nephew.”

Jin Guangyao: “Er-Ge, what are you thinking? Of course, I know he’s a child and my nephew. What did you think I would do to him? Kill him to silence him? A-Ling, did you hear that? If you recklessly run away or make any noises, I might do something scary to you. So you better watch your actions.”

now if I start talking about this scene we’ll be here all night, but for now I’d just like to note that I don’t think jgy is trying to make himself look sympathetic in front of lxc? he’s actually playing into lxc’s worst fears - in reaction to lxc expressing them, sure, and to my eyes covering up a lot of pain over lxc’s suspicion, but still going along with it and letting lxc believe the worst of him (and jin ling… topic for another post). look, he does the smirk:

then there’s this moment where jgy actually addresses lxc without prompting (but, hey, look it’s ‘Zewu-Jun’):

“Zewu-Jun, it’s going to rain. Go inside to take cover.”

this moment was somewhere between funny and bizarre to me, seeing as jgy is very much taking the time to tell his favourite hostage to not get wet. now the book translation I’ve read translates it as follows,

“Zewu-Jun, it’s raining. Let’s take shelter in the temple.”

- which regrettably makes a lot more sense. anyway, still doesn’t really look at lxc (as far as I can tell) -

- and then says “don’t worry” but adds a villainous smirk or two for good measure -

so let’s take that together with another interaction -

“But don’t worry, Er-ge, you know how I’ve always been towards Huaisang. When the time comes, I’ll definitely let you two leave without any harm.”

this is like… the warmest interaction in (1) we get? and again he’s telling him to ‘not worry’, which… another theme throughout is that I do think that for all that jgy avoids actually looking at lxc, he is acutely aware of the latter’s emotional state and is trying to manage it. not necessarily by making him feel good… and part of managing lxc’s emotional state is this increased distance, preparing for the separation of “when the time comes”, but it is also trying to assuage lxc’s fears. of course then that’s followed by this, which is a gut punch all round (including for jgy):

and jgy does this… cross between a smile and a grimace, this slightly resigned expression (he does also look a bit like he’s about to cry)

followed by this:

so yeah it’s… I really like this moment, because jgy is telling him essentially the truth but does so in a cruel way (and it’s obvious it lands with lxc). I can’t really read this moment as anything else than jgy distancing himself from lxc; yes he was somewhat prompted here by lxc, but he isn’t appealing to lxc to regain his trust - he explicitly says that it’s lxc’s choice but also that it doesn’t make any difference (or that lxc can’t do anything about it. whether it matters to jgy is another question). and then he turns to lxc and gives him this look -

and it’s… yeah, personally I read the entire thing as resigned, as well as a little cruel. it’s jgy knowing (or thinking he knows) exactly what lxc thinks of him and playing into that, of barely interacting directly with lxc but when he does enforcing lxc’s worst fears - the whole ‘playing the villain’ thing is nowhere near as blatant as it is with say wwx and jc, but it’s still there, in the interaction with jin ling and this one, in the coldness of it, in how jgy refuses to ask for lxc’s understanding because he isn’t about to admit either wanting or needing it

speaking of jc, when we get to his arrival and jgy starts picking on him, lxc tells him to not listen to jgy -

what can you say but yikes, really (though I do think there’s an interesting running thread of like… lxc looking at jgy and sometimes jgy looking at lxc but not at the same time? it’s like they’re both shying away from facing each other head on). to which jgy responds -

again, it just stands out to me how jgy isn’t refuting anything lxc just said. the words sound kind, but the implication isn’t, right? because the idea was always that lxc knew who jgy really was, unlike what the rest of the world sees him as (like lxc has himself said), and now jgy is identifying himself with the worst parts of what lxc sees - this is the meaning he’s choosing to attach to himself by going “you really understand me”. jgy is as good as telling lxc what understanding him entails, and it’s nothing about the deep bond they share but is instead something as painful as this. it’s less angling for reconciliation and more twisting the knife

back to jgy taunting jc, jgy says “It’s so difficult being your senior brother.” then we get this interaction -

the first part jiang cheng says and we only really get lxc’s heartbroken reaction, because jgy immediately brings the topic back to the yunmeng sibling angst, which he is like… playing for full drama. I actually think this is a nice example where playing the ‘villain’ goes hand in hand with the whole distancing from lxc, because he might be enjoying himself but it’s also very much used as a way to distract from all his own tricky emotional issues? can’t be talking about lxc and jgy’s shattered relationship if they’re instead talking about golden core transferrals, right??

so then there’s the whole jgy injures his hand thing.

I don’t have a whole lot to say to that because jgy’s dealing with other issues and he’s interacting more with su she, though… ouch at that little moment where lxc reaches out, as if by instinct

and when they come across a surprise corpse, it’s again that thing of… lxc looking at jgy, jgy not looking at lxc (he is distracted)

this isn’t really relevant to this post but since I’m already there, just after that you get a similar shot with jin ling:

(actually reminds me of nmj and jgy’s last conversation too) it’s a whole thing

and like… I’d argue it’s one form of creating distance, right? not even looking at him? trying to escape from any of these more emotionally intimate moments? and when it comes to the fratricide charge, again when he actually faces lxc, he’s not trying to garner sympathy. like the jin ling-related “what are you thinking?” or “you can’t do anything about it. right?” moments, it’s jgy shutting down conversations rather than starting them, resisting any chances to explain himself, (”is it necessary to ask” not “I didn’t do it” or even “please understand”)

and then wwx says something and jgy veritably jumps on the opportunity (and shoves poor su she aside in the process) to go over to wwx and monologue him for a bit instead -

this pretty much covers all(?) of their interactions in (1) which… it’s a fair few but it’s not actually all that many? I’m fairly certain jgy talks directly to both wwx and jc more than he does to lxc. their interactions become a lot more frequent from this point onwards - if nothing else, jgy becomes a more willing participant in them when it is in his (practical) interest to do so. but, to summarise, when jgy is actually in control he distances himself from lxc by:

a) avoiding interactions where he possibly can, including by avoiding eye contact and jumping on any chances provided by not-lxc to change the subject

b) not explaining himself to lxc and resisting openings to do so

c) playing into lxc’s worst perceptions of him, including playing the villain in lxc’s direction through coldness or smiles or cutting remarks

I do want to briefly go over the moment where lxc points his sword at jgy because it does illustrate the shift quite nicely. they start out pretty much the same way, jgy mostly talking to wwx and looking away from lxc -

- but that does change -

- and then eventually we get to the actual pleading. but the switch is slow and… it feels like there’s a lot of hesitation on jgy’s part. to me it doesn’t feel like something he wants to do, like he’s still calculating in those initial moments but gradually comes to the realisation that this approach is no longer going to cut it, that he’s going to have to appeal directly to lxc to save him. but then, eventually, he falls to his knees - and it’s quite a gradual motion, he really takes his time with it. are all those shots with lxc’s hand on the hilt of his sword that moves away when jgy falls to his knees implying that he was thinking about killing him?

so. yeah. I could go into more detail about how jgy does directly appeal to lxc in the following phases or what he is going on with him in the lead-up to his death, but that’s a topic for another post. for now, I think I can’t really read his phase (1) interactions in any other way than jgy preparing himself for the fact that this is the end - this is goodbye. jgy is scared of a rejection that is already unfolding; he is trying to shield himself from the pain and goes through a range of defence mechanisms to achieve that. it’s not an unreasonable fear, exactly, because it’s not like lxc reacts positively exactly to the revelations. and if jgy could have had his way, they never would have had this conversation to begin with, for better or for worse. maybe he thinks he’s doing a kindness to lxc, maybe he just doesn’t want to hurt him any more. either way, when he’s enough in control of the situation to allow it, he does his best to not engage with lxc at all. when he does, he does his best to distance himself from lxc - all the while merrily playing the villain with other characters he has less conflicted feelings about. it doesn’t work in the end and jgy ends up having to make himself vulnerable in front of lxc, but it’s a valiant attempt if nothing else

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”

[thereisnochillinsideme]

The rain, Akaashi Keiji part two

I'm sorry it's been such a long time I've just had some stuff going on but here it is, part two. I also think @bakudummy asked to be tagged, if you didn't ask me to I'm sorry please tell me I'll take it off anyway enjoy! Akaashi was currently locked in a debate between himself and himself. While one side was telling him that it would be fine if he visited [Name] and Takahashi in normal clothing while the other was telling him that they weren’t close enough and that he was required to wear a three-piece suit. The first side then argued back that they might think he’s rude if he showed up for a cup of hot chocolate in formal wear. In the end, he decided that after picking [Name] and her cake off the street and getting her to Takahashi’s apartment, what he wore probably mattered the least to either of them right now and settled on a cotton T-shirt. He made his way out of his apartment and knocked on the door to his right, which was opened by Takahashi. He hadn’t usually seen her like this. She had changed out of the pencil skirt she so usually wore to work and was currently in a sweater and leggings. She also looked surprised to see Akaashi in anything but his work wear. She let him in and went back to the stove, where the milk for the hot chocolate was bubbling on the stove. He saw [Name] spread out on an armchair, now changed out of her wet clothes. She saw him and immediately perked up, changing her position to see him better. He took a seat on the couch across from her. She gave him a smile and immediately began speaking to him.

“Stoneface-san! Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. How about you?”

She smiled. “I’m doing great! I got my cake, I got to meet you, I got to see Yo-chan, and now she’s making me hot chocolate!”

Akaashi smiled at the childlike elation she had at the situation she was in. She was an optimist to the bone.

He was a bit jealous of her, though he didn’t realize it. He was jealous of people like her. They didn’t have a care in the world, complete confidence in themselves. And people like him or Takahashi were following them around making sure nothing happened to them because, jaded and anxious as they were, they didn’t want that optimism to fade. It gave them strength too. It reminded him of the former captain of his high school volleyball team. Bokuto-san’s confidence was a force to be reckoned with and now there he was, playing professionally on a world stage.

Takahashi walked over with two mugs of hot chocolate, setting them on the coffee table that separated him and [Name]. [Name]’s smile grew wider upon seeing the drink and she happily picked it up and immediately took a big sip.

Immediately she started coughing.

“Ah barned mah tahnge.” She said, with her tongue hanging out.

Takahashi and Akaashi started laughing in unison as [Name] also began laughing with her tongue still hanging out.

“Why are you laughing? You burned your tongue?” Akaashi asked through chuckles.

“It is funny,” [Name] said through sips of cold water to soothe her tongue.

Time was spent happily drinking hot chocolate while [Name] told them jokes and stories.

Putting down his mug, Akaashi looked at [Name].

“[Name]-san, I’ve been meaning to ask your full name, as I didn’t get it when I met you.”

[Name] smiled. “[Last Name] [Name]”

Akaashi did a double take. “I’ve been calling you by your first name this whole time? That’s incredibly disrespectful as we don’t know each other well”

“It’s fine, Stoneface-san. I’ve never liked using my surname as it puts a formality barrier between me and who I’m talking to. Please use my first name.”

Akaashi nodded in acceptance. “So [Name], what do you do for work?”

She winked. “If I told you it would be no fun. It’s your job to guess. Your hint is that I’m in the creative field.” After many consecutive wrong guesses, [Name] changed the subject and started telling them what had happened to her at the train station that morning. As they laughed, Akaashi began to realize how much fun he was having.

It had been a long time since he had done anything like this. He maintained a strictly professional relationship with his coworkers and Bokuto-san was not free most of the time with having gone professional. He would come by and have a drink with Akaashi ever so often, but Bokuto-san usually found himself leaving early to spend more time with Shoyo. Akaashi didn’t mind that he was branching out and he knew that their adult life was definitely going to impact their friendship. However, it was not after he lost them that he realized just how much he cherished the carefree days on the volleyball team, how he would chase Bokuto-san around with an umbrella to stop him from getting wet in the rain.

It was probably why he spent so many late nights at work, trying to quiet his mind by occupying it. His high school friends were all busy with their own lives, he felt he should be as well.

“Stoneface-san?” He heard

He snapped out of his daze and saw [Name] staring at him, slightly concerned.

“Are you okay? Your stare was really blank and you didn’t laugh when I told you about when I threw a squid tentacle at the guy who came to collect my taxes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a bit tired. I also have some work due tomorrow, so do you mind if I take my leave?”

Takahashi looked at him, obviously concerned, but trying to hide it. “Yes of course, I’ll show you to the door.”

She walked him over to the door of the apartment and opened it, letting him go through.

“Thank you for looking after [Name] today, I’m sorry if she was a bit of an inconvenience. It was nice to have you both over, we should do it again sometime.”

Akaashi nodded, thanked her, and went inside his own apartment.

He didn’t mean to leave so abruptly, but he wasn’t lying, he did have work.

He made his way to the small desk by the window of his apartment and sat down, picking up the large, stapled sheet of paper by his window.

Today, his work was a bit more enjoyable than usual. He was editing one of his more favorite comics that was published in his magazine. Asuma no Sekai was a comic set in a demon world, with the main character being an incredibly lazy demon who preferred eating cake to doing her job. The crazy schemes she pulled to get out of doing her job were sometimes more work than doing the actual job and always made the reader laugh. Editing it was a more favorable part of Akaashi’s week and it never failed to lift his mood. The author was Sakurai Daisuke. He had never met the author in person as he usually sent someone else to pick up his manuscript, but he looked forward to meeting someone who was such a good mangaka.

After spending a couple hours reading, laughing, and editing the work, Akaashi went to bed as he had work the next morning.

[Name] had left on the first train that morning and though Akaashi was slightly mournful that he didn’t get to say goodbye, he continued on with his day like normal.

As the week went by, [Name] occupied Akaashi’s thoughts slightly more than a normal person would. He would pass by the cake shops in his area and wonder if she would enjoy the one in the display window. He was confused by why he was thinking about her so often, but chalked it up to the fact that there were a lot of cake shops in his area.

Later that week, on an afternoon while he was home, Akaashi got a call from his employee, Okomoto Chiyo. She sounded extremely distressed.

“Akaashi-san! I’m so so sorry to bother you!”

“It’s okay, what do you need?”

“My wife is sick and I’m home taking care of her. I was supposed to pick up Sakurai-san’s manuscript today, but Nanako’s been throwing up all day and I can’t afford to leave her now. Do you mind picking it up?”

Akaashi was slightly annoyed, as he had just gotten home. However, he knew that he couldn’t possibly ask his employee to leave her sick wife.

“It’s completely okay. May I have Sakurai-san’s address? At least I can finally meet him.”

“It’s xxx-xxx on the other side of the city. The train will be able to get you there really fast. Sakurai-san should have completed her manuscript by now.”

“Her?” Akaashi was confused

“Sakurai Daisuke is a pen-name. The author is female. She picked a male name to sound more ambiguous.”

“Oh, that comes as a bit of a surprise.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Akaashi-san! I am forever grateful to you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Akaashi looked out his window and toward the train station which was a couple blocks away. It was raining.

As he turned, his eyes fell on a now-dry neon yellow umbrella. He must have forgotten to give it back to [Name].

He picked up the umbrella, put on a long brown coat, and ran out his apartment door.

He was able to make it onto the train last minute, sitting on the seat in relief. As the train moved along, he thought about what the author might be like.

Thinking about it now, it was fairly obvious that this author wasn’t like most of the male authors Akaashi’s company had published.

There was barely any fan service in the series and the author made sure to write her female characters just as realistic and flawed as her male characters. Most of the male authors drew one woman with an unrealistic body and made her show up every now and then to rip her clothes off and leave. Sakurai-san’s female characters had personalities and all different body shapes, some bigger or smaller, darker or lighter, more like the women he would see in the real world.

The train announced his stop and he walked out, looking at the paper where he jotted down the address.

He navigated his way through the twists and turns until he finally got to the apartment building.

He entered and went to the specified floor and found the correct door.

As he raised his hand to knock, Akaashi suddenly felt a bit nervous to meet this author who he borderline idolized, especially when he found out he was wrong about her gender the whole time.

Nevertheless, his hand tapped lightly on the door twice and he heard footsteps rush to open it.

What he saw behind the door was definitely not what he expected.

[Name] was peeking out, wearing a large animal onesie, holding a plate of cake with a plastic fork.

“Stoneface-san?"

[visionsofus]

Hi! Just wanted to say that i'm living for you scarlet vision fanfic right now, they give me so much happiness and relief and they are so well-written that i'm re-reading them daily. I just wanted to ask if it's possible to have maybe If You Ever Come Back by The Script. I think that this will fit very well with our favourite synthezoid and witch.

Thank you again and please continue writing about them! Cheers and stay safe

hello! thank you so much for reading and reaching out with this song - it was perfect! I really hope you continue reading and enjoying this series ❤️ I hope you have a lovely morning/evening and are staying safe 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |  

track #9: If You Ever Come Back by The Script 

synopsis: Wanda and Vision recall an argument that forced them to go their separate ways in the early days of their relationship post-CW. Upon finding out Wanda is near the Compound Vision can't help himself and seeks her out to apologise. (Happy resolution)

Wanda had only meant to draw one circle around New Jersey but in her distraction had kept the ballpoint moving in continuous circles so that it was now an unrecognisable big blue scribble.

“Wanda, present please,” Natasha said waving her hand in front of Wanda’s distant eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmured, instead starting to flip the pen nimbly about her fingers.

“As I was saying,” Steve said from where he was braced above the map of the US they had spread out. “We can’t afford any more international travel for a bit, not after Sam was spotted in Venice last week.”

Sam Wilson raised his hands in defence. “Hey, I was actually being very careful, it’s not my fault my fan club spans nations.”

“Regardless, no more international travel,” Steve said looking at them sternly in turn, “Wanda that means you too, no European rendezvous with Vision for the next two months.”

The ballpoint clattered onto the table before them, and Wanda watched it role miserably away. Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly and she could only imagine the looks that she was giving Steve. The pair seemed to be able to communicate most things through very specific glares. Right now, Wanda guessed Nat was giving him a look that said something along the lines of ‘shut up why are you bringing her ex into the conversation?’.

“Uhm,” Steve said slowly, “right yes, no international stuff so all in the US right now. That means we’re going to be moving around a little more frequently to keep out of any states with large security presences.”

“So for now,” Natasha continued on, “that means New Jersey, big things happening in California with old Chitauri tech so we’re staying as far away as possible.”

“We could help,” Wanda spoke up. “That stuff is right up our alley.”

“We can’t help if we’re imprisoned and I doubt they’ll let us out as easily a second time,” Sam pointed out and Steve nodded in agreement.

“I know you want to help,” Nat said putting an assuring hand on Wanda’s arm, “but the most we can do right now is stay far away. We’d be putting the others at risk by being there.”

The Others, code for those ex-teammates they didn’t like to mention despite the fact that they were all still on contact. Nat with Tony, Steve with T’Challa and well, up until a month ago, Wanda with Vision.

“Safe houses have been arranged for all of us, separately, so we don’t draw attention.”

Wanda sighed audibly, she hated the separate placements, hated the loneliness.

“It’ll only be for a few weeks,” Nat assured them as Steve handed out envelopes with their assigned houses, addresses, keys, the lot.

Standing up to get her things ready and make to leave the current safe house, Wanda was stopped by Natasha when she tried to leave the room.

“Wanda,” Nat said, her eyes concerned.

“I already know what you are going to say, and yes I am fine.”

“I don’t believe you though,” Nat said crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Well, it’s not really my job to convince you,” Wanda said making to sidestep her.

“I’ve seen how you’ve been for the last month, you’re going to burn out at this pace. It couldn’t hurt to slow down and actually think about what happened between you two.”

Wanda shook her head wordlessly.

“I know it’s difficult but there’s no way you can move on if you don’t address it.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” Wanda asked, frustrated at herself for how easily her accent burst forth.

Nat looked at her sadly, but not with pity, Wanda knew that there was genuine worry behind that gaze. Still, it didn’t make her feel any less crappy. “Look, thinking about it, thinking about him still hurts so I’d just rather not talk about it.”

“You still don’t want me to pass your whereabouts onto him?”

Wanda shook her head and finally succeeded in getting past Nat and into the corridor, where she sped walked to her room and set about gathering her things before she could be coaxed into another ‘let’s all talk about our feelings’ session.

Admittedly there was a part of her that wished Natasha would pass on her location to Vision, even if it was only just to see whether he would actually show up. But Wanda had made Nat promise not to reveal where she was staying in the past month, at least not until Wanda was ready for that. Vision was an addiction she needed to kick, and constantly reminding herself of him or thinking about the chance of a reunion certainly wasn’t going to help.  

“Vision I need you on and concentrating ok? Not away with the fairies,” Tony Stark said from where he stood at the front of the board meeting table.

“Apologies, I am present and involved,” Vision said shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, a mannerism he had picked up recently.

“As I was saying, two days from now we’re heading over West to deal with the Chitauri tech that is now a burning pile of shit thanks to—”

Vision didn’t mean to zone out again, but it was so easy to take a backseat in such conversations when he had the assurance that his brain would keep track of anything important Tony said. Lately he had been wishing that his brain was human, or at the very least that it wouldn’t move so fast so that he might be able to get a bit of peace and quiet.

His thoughts were always on her, Vision just couldn’t help it. At home he was always scouring the internet, dreading the moment he might see her name pop up on news feeds as it had with Sam’s the previous week. When he was away for work there was always a small part of his brain filtering through local security cameras, half hopeful that he would catch a glimpse of her somewhere nearby. She was a constant distraction, and it was becoming one of the many things making him seriously doubt the decision he had made those long weeks earlier. Which was strange because that decision had been a logical, rational answer to their problem, it had been a preventative measure for heartbreak. So why was his heart still hurting?

It had been six months since the events in Germany had divided the team he had come to know as friends. The absence of those who had brought such life to the compound had been noticed immediately. But it was Wanda whose absence he struggled with most, both while she was imprisoned and after Captain Rogers had broken her out.

Vision had gotten by on snippets of information fed to him through Natasha, to Tony and then finally to him. He had a suspicion that Stark had known exactly what he was doing in given that information to him. Sometimes it was mentioning which city their old teammates had been in the previous week, other times it was switching off the old school radio in his office just in time for Vision to hear Natasha’s voice crackling from it. Eventually, Vision had gathered enough pieces of the puzzle that he was able to track which radio frequencies they had been using to communicate with each other. He’d listened long enough to discover where Wanda was going to be next and showed up unannounced, despite the danger, despite the bridges burnt between them and the different paths they were on. But Wanda had welcomed him into her arms without hesitation and it had become clear that their connection was still there, as strong as ever. One thing had led to another and before he knew it, he was making time to travel and see her every few weeks. She usually chose Europe, and he was happy to see the world, if it was with her.

Their last trip hadn’t gone so well. They’d nearly gotten caught because Vision had slipped up on his way out of their rental property one morning, forgetting to glamour himself and letting someone get a photo of him. It had been circulating the internet and local media before Vision could stop the spread. Thankfully, Tony had a press release ready to go for this exact situation and made it clear that Vision was acting strictly within the limits of the Accords. It could have gone a lot worse, but it had also made several things clear to him. Their argument after the incident had been bad, to say the least.

“Isn’t it better we stop now before it hurts us both?” Vision cried after half an hour spent arguing over who ought to leave the apartment first. The damage was done on his side so if Vision was seen again it wouldn’t matter, but if Wanda was seen in the same city, he could kiss his currently peaceful relationship with the UN goodbye. On the other hand, if anyone decided to look too closely at his whereabouts of the last few days, Wanda would be discovered, and he didn’t know what he would do. The idea of her getting caught and imprisoned again was sickening.

The argument had got them nowhere. Each was too concerned about the other. He wanted her to leave, regardless of the risk this posed to himself, meanwhile Wanda wanted him to leave before he got caught with her and a target was placed on his back as well.

In the end the decision had to be made.

“It already hurts,” she’d yelled back at him, her eyes telling Vision all he needed to know.

“I cannot keep putting you at risk like this.”

“I am not asking you to!” She’d turned her head skyward in frustration. “This is worth it for me. You don’t get to make this decision for both of us!”

“I am making this decision,” Vision said his voice thick with emotion, walking backwards to the door, “and I am deciding to leave, before neither of us can.”

He’d hovered at the door, coat in hand but she’d already turned away to look out the window, watching rain drizzle dismally outside.

“Then go.”

He’d checked hundreds of radio frequencies in the weeks since, but had never caught them again, figuring that the four must have changed communication tactics since. It didn’t stop him from using the burner number that Tony had given him to reach Natasha. He was sure his messages were getting through, but there was never a reply. He supposed he was not really owed anything considering he was the one who had walked out. It didn’t matter that he’d regretted his decision ever since. Wanda didn’t know that he’d missed two trains all because he couldn’t bring himself to take the next, more final step away from her and everything they had been together.

Back in reality Tony had come to the end of his debrief and had ended the call they’d been on with various other officials related to managing the presence of super-humans in the country.

“When are we leaving on Thursday?” Vision asked, a hopeless attempt at pretending he’d been listening properly.

“Iam leaving on Thursday afternoon; you are staying here.”

Vision was stumped. “Why?”

“Because you are in no state to be heading out on a potentially sensitive mission right now, you could barely pull yourself together for a meeting, Vision.”

Tony sighed with such disappointment that Vision regretted being so absent the last few weeks. He’d been sure to be there as much as he could after the team had disbanded, allowing Tony to delegate to him when needed. But this last month he’d let things slide more than he’d realised, Tony looked tired.

“I’d like to disagree with your decision,” Vision began, standing as Tony made to leave the room, “but I cannot help but think you’re right. If I could just have the weekend to reassess my priorities, I would be back to regular working capacity by Monday.”

“And I want to say I believe you,” Tony said leading the way back through the compound. “But you don’t have a good track record with this particular type of distraction.”

Vision hovered by the front door with his head hung in shame. He heard the beeping of Tony unlocking his car and the soft hiss of air as the door opened automatically.

“She’s in New Jersey this week.”

Vision paused on his closing of the front door.

“I thought you should know,” Tony said rubbing at his chin as he paused by the car, “Address is 22 Steel street, don’t get caught.”

Wanda hated how much America reminded her of Vision now. That was why she was thinking about him so much – it was definitely New Jersey’s fault. It was the proximity to the upstate Compound that had her thinking of him so often. It had to be.

They were done, Vision had made that so very clear the last time she had seen him. But it hadn’t stopped her staying another few days at the house they had rented together in some desperate attempt to come to terms with yet another person leaving her life. At least he was still out there, living a life just not with her.  

She pressed her palms into the kitchen bench and took a deep breath. She was halfway through washing up the dishes from the day, but she’d already slipped and broken one glass by accident and was on the verge of giving up. It was frustrating. Wanda could control other people’s minds with ease. She hadn’t had reason to in a while but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel that dormant aspect of her power waiting to be used. So how come she couldn’t manage her own mind? Why was she grieving the loss of someone still alive?

Wanda knew that Steve and Nat had struggled to understand what she had with Vision, and it didn’t help that she herself struggled to put it into words. They hadn’t labelled themselves in the months since they started stealing moments together, it had all been to see if there was something more there. Something worth pursuing. And well, Wanda had thought they were on the same page but evidently, she’d been wrong. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe that those feelings weren’t real. Hope was a pain in the ass.  

And she supposed her alertness these past few days could be owed to him as well. Of course, there was the general haze of fear to consider, the fear that one of these days a SWAT team would arrive at her door to take her back to prison. But on the other side of that coin, she knew there was a fraction of her that was listening out for him. It was painful, knowing he was so close. It didn’t stop her listening out for him, for his soft footsteps, his steady breathing, for the comforting presence of him and the way their minds called out to each other. Even before they’d started meeting like this, he had always been the first one she looked for in a fight, the first person her eyes fell on when she walked in a room, the one person she always wanted to have in her corner.

She paused the absentminded drying of a plate and realised that the imagined footsteps outside weren’t in her head. There was most definitely someone walking up and down the creaky floorboards of the run-down townhouse she’d been assigned to for the two weeks. She’d picked the floorboards out as her first warning if any unwanted guests stopped by the property, probably followed by the breaking of the two locks in the front door.

The closer she listened the more she could hear weight shifting and creaking wood.

Wanda crept through the still unfamiliar house, out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway to the door. As she approached the pacing paused and she distinctly heard a fist rapping on the wooden door three times.

She rose on her toes to peer through the peep hole. A familiar figure was standing on the porch with a head of neat, sandy hair and a carefully pressed blue shirt. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide the exclamation of surprise threatening to come forth. She dropped her hand quickly and stepped back, subconsciously reaching out and letting her magic unlock the door, sending it swinging open.

Wanda didn’t really know what to say as Vision turned around at the sound of the door creaking open. She simply stood there looking at him, fearful that she was imagining things and that he wasn’t really here. She tilted her head in question.

“Mr Stark told me you were here,” Vision said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as though worried someone might be watching them, but the street at his back was deserted. “I’m sorry for just showing up out of the blue.”

Wanda folded her arms, wrapping her cardigan further around herself against the night chill from outside. A deeper cold was spreading through her at the unnatural tension between them, even as she fought the urge to step forward and embrace him. “And why are you here?” She asked instead.

“I made a mistake, and I’d like to fix it.”

“How?”

“I’d like to start by talking, if you wouldn’t mind me coming in?”

Wanda bit her lip hesitantly but knew she couldn’t keep him waiting out on the doorstep. She stepped to the side and nodded for him to come in.

Wanda led him to the kitchen and settled herself opposite the table, so she could lean with the comforting pressure of the kitchen bench at her back.

She watched his eyes flicker about as he entered the space, taking in the washing in the sink, the bread open on the counter and the remains of her supper littered here and there. She suddenly wished she’d finished cleaning quicker. Wanda saw a lot in his gaze, knowing from months of meeting up as a fugitive that he was concerned about how well she was eating on the run. His gaze turned to her next, taking in her clothes, her face, the distinct bags under her eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but soften her stance, unfolding her arms but maintaining the distance she needed.

Vision had dropped his human glamour as soon as he entered the house and she watched as he now stood before her, hardly believing it was real.  

“I will not attempt to make excuses, I owe you more than that,” Vision said after a beat seemingly to collect himself. She was unnerved by his unwavering eye contact but met him head on.

“I was wrong. I thought that putting space between us was the right thing to do but I regretted that as soon as I left you standing there. I have regretted it every day since. I know that I was afraid, afraid of what we might become if I didn’t stop things where they were.” He paused for breath. “It wasn’t until I sat on the train that I realised the idea of living a life without you hurt more than I could bear. Perhaps that makes me selfish, wanting to keep meeting up and putting you at risk. But it is the truth. And if I could change things, if I could go back, I would behave differently.”

Wanda felt her breath loose out over her lips, a quiet sigh of relief.

“I would have told you all this the day after I left if I knew how I might reach you. I’m sorry.”

Wanda swallowed, taking a breath to think about what he had said. There was little to think about, she had forgiven Vision the moment she realised it was him standing on her porch. Learning now that he had tried to reach out for her in the past few weeks, something she hadn’t dared hope, and that she had stubbornly not let him in hurt more than she’d expected it to. They’d both made mistakes.

“As much as I hated being left like that, I understand why you did,” Wanda said earnestly.

“I was a fool,” Vision said shaking his head shamefully.

“That makes two of us.” Wanda smiled softly at him.

“I never could have stayed away,” he admitted, gesturing restlessly with his hands.

“I should have let you in sooner.”

Vision wasn’t often hesitant, but he paused before his next words. “Can you forgive me?” He stepped forward as he spoke.

This movement was all the invitation Wanda needed and she pulled away from the bench as he drew closer. They met each other in the middle, his arms coming around her waist, her hands sliding over his shoulders in a hug. They swayed for a moment, relishing the closeness.

“Forgiven,” she murmured to him, though she was sure the hug said it clearer. “No going back,” she added, considering making a joke about cold feet.

“I can’t help but think this was inevitable,” he said quietly from where his chin was pressed to her shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair. “That no matter the bridges we burnt, or how our paths changed, you were always going to be my future.” She hugged him tighter.

“But we need rules from now on,” Wanda said drawing back a little so she could see his face clearly, “like not getting photographed by tourists.”

“I will never live that down, will I?” Vision groaned but smiled nonetheless.

“Never,” she whispered, scrunching her nose at him affectionately, then growing more serious, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” he promised pressing his forehead to hers in understanding.

[themysteriousauthor18]

Radiodust oneshot [Childhood friend AU]

Artist of picture above: 

A wild deer, that’s how it started. 

              A wild deer and a small boy watching it from the bushes. His brown eyes watched it curiously with the handgun in one of his hands, waiting for a perfect angle. As he raised it ready to aim the perfect shot would have been fired….if not for the sudden intrusion.

It was quick a blur almost but the mop of blonde hair was obvious as the small person ran at the deer and they almost had it. But the deer was faster and it moved at the last second causing the stranger to fall face first into the dirt. The brunette groaned, annoyed as he got up from his hiding spot, watching in aggravation as the deer made it’s escape. Far too fast for him to land a hit. 

He looked over to the spot, it was a child and as he approached he noticed the small hand knife in their hand. He wasn’t scared though. “Hey.” The little brunette said, crossing his arms and frowning, the little blonde pushed up onto his elbows and a pair of lime green eyes met brown. 

He had never seen such bright and pretty green eyes and he found himself staring for a second before regaining his thoughts. “Ya ‘don scared off ma’ prey.” The other boy tilted his head as he got to his knees before his feet. Once he stood the brunette stifled a laugh somehow taking pride in the fact that the other was at least a foot shorter than him. 

“I saw ‘em first.” The brunette stared quizzically, he sounded funny. 

“You got da weird voice.” The little blonde boy stuck his tongue out.

“Yeah well, you talk funny.” The two little boys exchanged looks for a second before the smaller of the two looked away. The brunette couldn’t help but look at the knife on the other hand. 

“Why ya got da’ knife?” The blonde looked down at his knife. 

“My pa is making me hunt animals.” The brunette scoffed.

“Dat’s dumb. A gun is betta.” The little boy smiled.

“That’s what I said!” His smile faded soon after, the brunette liked his smile. It was...nice. The shorter of the two glared at the grown. “But whenever I say that he hits me...so I stopped saying that.” The two fell silent the only sounds being the subtle forest sounds around them and heavy sounds of cicadas in the hot summer heat. 

“What’s your name?” The brunette finally asked his curiosity getting the better of him. He was sharply dressed for his age and the other found it strange. His outfit looked like it had been stolen from someone, multiple tears in the pants and white T-shirt he wore. 

It was a stupid choice to be talking to someone, especially out here. His father had told him never to trust anyone yet here he was talking to a boy that was strangely out here in the woods on a hot summer day. Especially when children would be playing in a pool somewhere or getting ice cream. 

And despite all that, he found himself answering. “Anthony.” The brunette found himself smiling, something he rarely did these days. 

“My name is Edward.” The taller of the two said, reaching his hand out as if they were businessmen.

Anthony looked at the hand curiously but found himself grabbing it. They shook and their hands stuck together for a little longer than normal before awkwardly separating. 

Anthony looked at the ground. “So uh..how old are ya’? I just turned 9!” The brunette narrowed his eyes.

“10.” The blonde looked up amazed.

“Wow your old.” The brunette gawked at the bluntness.

“ ‘Dats real rude!” Anthony only grinned.

“But it's weird.” Edward tilted his head confused.

“Why?” He couldn’t help but stare into those large round doe-like green eyes. The freckles, blonde hair and pale skin..it was all so interesting to look at. Was it because he was younger that he looked like that?

“Well I’ve met older people and they weren’t cute. But you are.” Edward smiled nervously.

“D-you can’t go sayin’ ‘dat!” The shorter was simply confused.

“Huh? Why?” Edward frowned his cheeks tinting a like pink. 

“My fatha’ said it ain’t okay for boys to be goin’ around and liking boys. He don’t like it…”

“Oh…” Anthony muttered staring at the grass, as if it held the answers.

“Well, I like you!” The brunette’s face flushed a bright red.

“D-don’t be sayin’ dat!” He gawked, completely shocked. He’d never met someone like this or a boy who had said something like that. 

“Well I am so there!” Edward crossed his arms.

“You very weird.” The blonde boy only grinned. 

“I know. Oh-I gotta go! Bye Edward!” The boy suddenly took off running and before the brunette could question just why he’d run off, he could hear the boy's name being called by a gruff voice.

...Maybe he would see him again. 

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            Two boys, each drastically different, it seemed as if a friendship like theirs would never work out. But somehow it did, in that small quaint town of New Orleans they seemed, by luck, to run into each other again and again. And somehow that friendship grew and they got along. They would go into the woods together and attempt to hunt or sometimes just sit around and talk about random topics. 

Although only the mothers knew of the boy's friendship, and would be the one to maintain this secret friendship. Although there was a lot of bad on each of the boy’s sides, for what it was worth, when they were together things almost for those two years, were perfect. 

And then those 5 years came to an end. 

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            A soft knock came at the door but Anthony refused to look up from the floor. He heard the door open and still refused to look up. He expected to hear the booming voice of his father yelling at him, snatching up and beating him. But instead he only heard the light tapping of shoes as they got closer…

This led him to think that it was his mother who had entered his room, and so he looked up. But his eyes widened in shock, it was not his mother who was currently closing his door very quietly nor her who was smiling sadly at him right now.

“Ed!” He whispered loudly as he got up from his bed and tackled the other in a tight hug. In these two years the other male had grown a bit taller, his voice had gotten a tad deeper and he now wore glasses. But other than that, he hadn’t changed very much. The way he hesitantly passed Anthony’s shoulders before gently pushing him away only proved this.  

“Are you alright?” He asked, he had begun suppressing his accent since a year ago, and although Anthony wasn’t sure why he never bothered to question it. Even if he did miss it. 

Anthony nodded with glossy eyes that he tried to wipe. Edward was dressed in that blue polo again, the one they always wore in schools. Wait did he just skip school? “How did ya get in here..” Anthony whispered. Edward simply shook his head dismissing the question as unimportant.

“Why are you frowning?” Anthony wiped his eyes. 

“You know why! I ain’t gonna be in New Orleans tomorrow…” It was all his father's fault, and he truly hated him for it. He had done quite a lot of horrible things but this was one of the worst. They were being forced to move back to New York just because of his father's work. Naturally he didn’t have a say so in it and, it would also be the last time he would be able to see Edward. He didn’t have a cellphone, he wasn’t allowed one and Edward was far too poor to afford one. Anthony didn’t know his new address and he didn’t want to get the other in trouble for possibly sending letters to his home.

Truly, it seemed this would be the last time they would be seeing each other. 

It seemed. 

And Edward knew this. 

He was frowning now as he moved his thumb to wipe a stray tear from the shorter boy's face. “Don’t frown Anthony. You have a beautiful smile.” Anthony sniffled as he shook his head resting it against Edwards chest.

“I don’t wanna say goodbye to ya...you're the only person in this shit hole whose actually nice to me...everyone else sucks.” This time Edward allowed the contact, he kept his hands on Anthony’s shoulders. 

“I don’t wanna say goodbye either Anthony.” He admitted quietly. He gently patted the other's head. “But there’s nothing we can do.” Once again he pushed the other away holding him at arm's length. Anthony looked up with glossy eyes once more. Edward smiled sadly, and reached into his breast pocket taking out the red handkerchief. 

“Come now, a frown doesn’t suit your pretty face.” Anthony took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes free of any tears. He held it up to hand it back but the other simply shook his head. “Keep it.” This caused the corners of Anthony’s lips to tug up almost into a smile. It was that smile that Edward craved whenever they met up, whenever he saw him and whenever they said their goodbyes.

And this time was no different. 

“Sbrigati, fottuto marmocchio!” The familiar gruff voice shouted from the hall in italian. Anthony’s smile vanished as did Edwards. 

He sighed, suppressing the urge to cry once again. “I-I gotta go…” he muttered in a broken voice. 

“Hm, I think not. Not until you smile.” Anthony looked up.

“Ed-your gonna get me in trouble. Move out of ‘da way..and..and you gotta go before you get found by my pa.” Anthony bit his lip swallowing the tears as he gestured to the locked window. He wanted to run, run away with Edward..but he knew he couldn’t. They wouldn’t survive out there, and he knew his father would find him. Running would just make it worse...besides, he refused to leave his mother and sister. 

Edward only shook his head. “Not until you smile. So how can I get that to happen?” Anthony looked to his feet, only shrugging. Edward hummed lowley as he took a step forward noting to himself that he’d locked the door. He tilted Anthony’s head up and without warning leaned down and pecked his lips. 

The blonde was shocked, thrown off even. The action was enough to get him to back away, the back of his hand covering his mouth. Edward only smirked, finding Anthony’s bright red face and confused green eyes that searched him, humorous.

“E-Ed what the hell! W-why did you do that.” The brunette only looked quizcally, the smirk on his lips not falling.

“Did you not like it?” Slowly the hand covering Anthony’s mouth lowered, his eyes looking anywhere that wasn’t Edward. 

“.......I did.” He said quietly, almost too quiet to hear. Almost. 

Edward stepped closer once more, leaned down again but stopped just an inch from Anthony’s lips. He smiled softly, and Anthony kept his eyes away even though he could feel Edwards breaths on his cheek. As he felt the others hand come up to cup his cheek he found his eyes tracing back to the brunette. Those large green doe eyes stared up into brown. 

Anthony leaned up pressing his lips against Edwards and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Edward only tilted his head, locking his free arm around Anthony’s hips. 

Time seemingly stopped for just those few minutes. And for once, Anthony felt safe and warm. 

And then that moment was over. 

The loud banging at the door and failed attempt to open it brought the young pair back to reality causing the brunette to quickly pull away. Angel looked up at him alarmed as he moved over to the window quickly opening it, ignoring the angry italian behind the door. He sat perched on the window ciel, the jump down wouldn’t hurt too much as long as he landed in the bushes. 

He looked over to Anthony and reached his hand out. “Anthony come with me.” The blonde looked at the offered hand and slowly shook his head. “I can’t Ed...my sister. A-and what about your mom..” Edward frowned deepened as he sighed. 

He leaned forward, cupping Anthony’s face and kissing him gently one last time. It was short this time, but sweet. He stared into those bright green eyes resting his forehead against the others. “....Goodbye, Anthony.” 

Anthony’s eyes become glossy once more, he couldn’t help but sniffle once again. “Goodbye Edward..” he hoarse words came, and they were the last things the brunette heard before tearing himself away and jumping from the window. 

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          “Wow that sounds like a childhood love story.” The blonde-haired girl said from Angel’s bed. He sighed leaning against his dresser. He took another hit from his joint, his eyes staring out the window and into the city of New York. 

“Eh it was probably the heat of the moment.” The women hummed. 

“Your an adult now, why not just move back to New Orleans and go lookin’ for him?” Angel shook his head taking another long drag from the joint, this time letting stay in for a second before blowing it out. The smoke filled the room, not that it bothered the women.

“That was 10 years ago Cherri, he’s probably long gone by now. An I don’t even remember his address let alone where he lived in New Orleans.” She laid down on his bed. “Plus I can’t. Just cause I got my own place don’t mean pa ain’t got his hooks in me still.” She frowned.

“Well, who knows...maybe you’ll meet him again someday. Loves got a way y’know?” Angel looked into the mirror, he’d grown up his features matured..freckles not as visible anymore. But most importantly, his eyes didn’t sparkle a bright green like they had back then. Sometimes he wondered if that kiss really happened, or if it was all just his imagination. Trying to make something good of a sad memory. Wanting to kiss the guy he’d developed a crush on. 

Did it ever happen...or was it simply a false memory?

“Yeah….I hope so.”

But he wouldn’t get his hopes up. 

He knew better.

He suppressed a sign as he leaned over and switched on the radio. He wanted to listen to something while he did his make up. 

“Good morning all you listeners! Today is quite a lovely day yes indeed! A pleasure to have you all listening once again. I shall be your host for today, Alastor haha! Now let us see what dreadful things are to be had today in the city of New York!” 

Angel frowned only listening to that broadcast in the background..

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…..Maybe they’d meet again someday.

[wylanvnneck]

Rating: G for Giganotosaurus

Summary: Based on a TFOTA headcanon which I posted on Tumblr about Cardan and Jude visiting the Mortal world and Cardan getting introduced to pick-up lines. That he uses. Frequently. Which, of course completely irritates Jude.

Originally posted on AO3 | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Chapter 1

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Jude lets out a slight sigh of exhaustion as she fights to remain poised on her throne, the picture of elegance in front of her reveling subjects. She cannot show any signs of weakness. Her husband beside her steals a glance at her from over his wine glass, noting the weariness on her face that she is attempting to hide.

She can’t help but feel a little relieved when Cardan sets the glass of wine down as he stands and announces, “The Queen and I will be retiring for the day, but do carry on with the merry making.”

She takes a moment to drink in the sight of him imperiously addressing his subjects, the gold on his cheeks glistening under the bright lights. His black eyes shining, highlighted by the Kohl on his lids. The crown sitting regally atop his raven locks which fall over the pointy-tipped ears that mark his ancestry. He is beautiful, untouchable and yet, hers. She takes the arm that he extends as they gracefully exit the hall, headed towards their bed chambers.

“Tired, my mortal goddess?” he murmurs in her ear as they walk.

She is tempted to lie, so as to not appear fragile, but this was Cardan. The only person for whom she would remove her armour.

So she replies, “ A little, I admit,” looking up into his raven eyes that seem to hold a glint of concern.

He knew that the constant celebrations of the Fae took a toll on her, but she refused to shirk her duties as the Queen of Elfhame, attending every revel. The matter often caused fights between them but the make ups were always just as passionate as their yelling was.

“Your Majesties, please excuse me,” they are intercepted by Fand, Jude’s personal knight. “Your sister has sent you a letter, Your Highness.” She hands Jude a letter with her name scrawled on the envelope in Vivi’s sloppy cursive. For a moment she’d hoped it was from Taryn, her twin with whom she maintained a rather tenuous relationship. She was still glad to hear from Vivi  who kept up a correspondence with her between the Mortal world and the Fae one, both of them exchanging letters, although oftentimes Jude’s many duties would intercede.

“Thank you Fand, you may go.” She thumbs the letter as Fand respectfully bows and retreats.

“I wonder what your sister has to say this time?” Cardan remarks as they enter their rooms, immediately starting to remove his extravagant attire and change into his equally extravagant silk night robe.

“No idea, I only hope it’s nothing to do with Madoc and Oriana.” Jude’s relationship with her father was a very, very fragile one. After all that had transpired between them, she hadn’t yet reached out to him, with only Vivi’s letters to provide her with any news of his doings in the Mortal Realm since she’d banished him. He’d said that he understood her actions, but understanding did not mean forgiving.  Not that she needed forgiving. He was the one in the wrong. But he was also still the man who had raised her to be the warrior she was now.

As if sensing her thoughts, Cardan steps closer to where she is standing by the doorframe, gently nudging her with his now free tail as she rips open the envelope. He rests his head on her shoulder and joins her in her attempt to decipher Vivi’s handwriting.

“She’s inviting us to come and visit them in the mortal realm for a while, now that things are calmer.” It was indeed true that months had passed since Jude had slayed Cardan’s serpentine form, fulfilling the prophecy and the two had brought peace to Elfhame by ridding it of Madoc’s rebels.

“She says that a short break would be beneficial for the both of us and that Oak keeps asking to see me.” She smiles to herself as she thinks of her precocious younger brother.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Cardan says. “You deserve a break, Jude. More importantly, I do, for all the hard work I attend to,” he adds with an exaggerated yawn and a smug look.

She gives that last statement as much attention as it deserved, which is to say, she ignores it.

“But can we afford to take a break? What about the safety of our Kingdom?”

“I’m sure that the Court of Shadows and our bloodthirsty redcap general can handle the Kingdom in our absence and it would only be for a few days. Besides, I am curious to see more of where my wife spent her days during her...exile.” He falters slightly on that last word, shooting her a wary look. He knows that Jude did not at all appreciate his trickery that had led to those miserable days in exile. She has forgiven him, mostly, but there was no harm in keeping the High King on his toes.

She narrows her eyes at him and in response he presses a penitent kiss to her lips.

Before they can get too wrapped up in each other he pulls away, “So it’s settled? We shall spend a few days in the mortal realm with your sister?”

“I suppose so.” Now that Jude is resigned to the idea she feels a spark of excitement at visiting her family.

* * *

A few nights later the couple, accompanied by the Roach, make their way to the sea that separates them from the Mortal lands as the fog swirls around them, each carrying saddlebags. Cardan conjures two bony Ragwort ponies from a few stalks, silent and ready to carry them across the realms. They have donned mortal clothes, Jude in a sensible black pair of shorts and a dark top, under which she has concealed her various weapons and Cardan looking quite irregular in his tight-fitting denim jeans and loose white shirt that Jude had scrounged up for him. Despite her best efforts at pleading with him, she had not succeeded in having his gold cheeks and kohl removed, creating a very striking yet confusing image of the Fae in ill-fitting mortal clothes. He did, at least, promise to glamour the pointed tips of his ears once they’d crossed.

“Worry not, Your Highnesses, your Kingdom is in good hands,” the Roach bids them farewell.

“I do hope so,” Cardan replies, giving him a quick nod, mounting his steed after Jude and tangling his fingers in the horse's leafy mane as they take off into the night.

It’s nearing dawn once they’re outside Vivi and Heather’s apartment, the horses dissolving into stalks that blow away in the dark and quiet surroundings. Cardan takes in the sights around him and Jude remembers that he’d been here once before, coming to Vivi for help after Madoc had kidnapped Jude right from Cardan’s presence, thinking she was Taryn.

“It is strange. The last time I was here I was in such a hurry to find you that I didn’t really notice much of what was around me,” he says, his enhanced eyesight not at all hindered by the darkness.

“What do you think of the mortal world so far?” Jude asks, ringing the doorbell.

“Usually at this time we Fae would be feasting and dancing, but here it’s so still and silent. It seems that no one is awake.”

“Sometimes mortals actually do have night time revels,” she replies, thinking of the nightclubs that Vivi used to sneak off to back when they lived with Madoc. She’d sometimes waltz back into Jude’s room upon returning and describe her night to her half-impressed, half-disapproving sisters, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and dancing. It felt like ages ago.

“Is that so? Perhaps while we are here we should attend one of these revels,” Cardan suggests, head tilting.

“Perhaps,” Jude replies distractedly as she wonders why it was taking so long  for someone to answer the door. They had sent a quick note informing her sister of their impending visit so they should be expected.

Finally Vivi swings open the door, her petite body clothed in a baggy set of pajamas, “Jude, you’re here,” she opens the door wider, scanning her sister with her golden cat’s eyes.

“Hello Vivi,” Jude steps inside and gives her a quick hug with Cardan following in her wake, “Sister-in-law,” he teases.

“Pain-in-law,” Vivi responds, not missing a beat. Jude smiles to herself. It was good to see her sassy half-sister again.

Jude follows her sister to the kitchen counter as she fumbles around for some mugs to make coffee in. Cardan settles himself onto a high stool, intrigued by the coffee machine that Vivi was currently operating. The three of them linger in the kitchen for some time, drinking their beverages and exchanging stories, Jude relating stories of Elfhame and court happenings and Vivi catching them up on the recent happenings in the Mortal world and Oak’s schooling and Heather’s job. Jude is relieved to know that Madoc and Oriana hadn’t gotten into any trouble in the mortal world, at least not as yet, and that they were currently living somewhere quite far off, though they did frequently come and visit Oak. They wouldn’t be visiting while Jude was here, she was glad to hear. That confrontation would have to come at some point she supposed, but not just yet.

Finally, Vivi calls it a night, showing them to the room they were to occupy and leaving them to return to her sleeping girlfriend’s side.

Cardan takes in the messy bedroom, with a half-heartedly made up bed, obviously a last minute preparation for their arrival. “So, this is where you slept when you were here?” He lays on the bed and slowly stretches his legs out in a cat-like manner, watching Jude as she deposits their bags on the floor.  

“Indeed. Not quite the level of luxury you’re used to, Your Highness,” she smirks, crawling onto the bed beside him. She pushes him aside to make space for herself.

“Nevertheless, there is something to be said about smaller beds,” he responds, putting his arm about her waist and pulling her close, freeing his tail from the jeans to wrap around her calf.

“Hmm…” she mumbles tiredly, resting her head on his chest, feeling her husband’s hands stroking her chestnut hair, lulling her to sleep.

Thank you to @cupcakesandkittens​ for encouraging me to post this fic on tumblr as well.💕

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