#Also drew the flowers as HOW THEY SHOULD LOOK on my masks

[angrybatart]

A friend gave me a crab plush to hug, and I was encouraged to "chew/nom" on it a few minutes later by others. Now I have motivation to finish the Remembrance quests.

Great way to pass the time

Excellent in-game stimming toy

It's....my first time drawing the bat mask. ^_^; I'm not very good at drawing stonework. As much as I love that design and texture. Need more practice, and need to hone a style for it.

(Reusing image from my gaming blog.)

#fanart #sketch #Sky: Children of the Light #Sky: CotL #Sky Children of the Light #Dark Crab #Crab Plush #Sky Kid #OC #Bat #Also I wasn't wearing the mask at the time but I bet it would have looked funnier #My Sky Kid is gonna suffocate under that mask with the plush shoved in there like that #The squeakie sounds sold me #Also drew the flowers as HOW THEY SHOULD LOOK on my masks #Not covered up or barely visible

[plushii-gutz]

Part 7,, please do read the PSA I made, as it will explain why this chapter had been put off for so long.

I also want to say that, yeah, it's a lot shorter than I intended, but I have a lot planned for part 8 and don't wanna clutter my writing.

☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆

A day passed. Then another. Then a week. Galvana had gotten terribly sick the morning after Scaratar had left. Even during that moment of weakness, they refused the help of the others. They tried to respect their privacy; except for Torrt, that is. Having seen Furnoss in such a sickly state not long ago, it was thought he was trying to make up for his absence with Galvana. They weren't as appreciative as one would expect.

"It's a waste of time," Plixie would argue. "Torrt, you're driving yourself into the ground!"

But the earth monster didn't care. As far as the rest of the residing monsters knew, the youngest celestial had recovered. They could hear Galvana inside their room, talking to themselves. They couldn't make out what was being said. They didn't care enough to investigate, especially with the doors now locked from the inside. Torrt gave up on trying to help. Vhamp did, too.

He didn't make it as obvious, but Vhamp tried to put on the same act Torrt had. They formed a mutual agreement, though it didn't matter now.

The castle felt normal otherwise. As normal as it could be. Sage came by far more often, trying to check in with her celestial friend. Even that didn't bring them out, and by God, was she upset with herself. After a week, though, she gave up. She knew there was no reason to keep trying. Galvana would come out when they were ready to.

Plixie and Blasoom sat in the living room, snacking on a party-sized bag of cheese balls and flipping between channels on the television. The day was slow. Most everything felt heavy. Perhaps it was the dark clouds and missing sun. Maybe they were missing the celestials that had left them not long ago. The sky was already starting to darken.

Plixie's eyes grew heavy, barely able to stay open enough to see what Blasoom was turning on. The distant chatter was nice. The oversized hoodie she threw on was ever so cozy. Sleep seemed ideal. She was quickly woken up as leaf-like feathers smacked against her face.

"Plixie!" Blasoom yelled. "Look!"

"Who - where am I?"

"The TV!"

The plasma monster sat up, wiping her face and scanning over the screen. On it, there seemed to be a stage of some kind. Projections of stars and moons covered the entirety of it. At the center stood a masked singer, dressed in black and silver from head to toe. Apart from the mask, intricately decorated with flowers, she was unrecognizable. The two monsters, however, could recognize that voice anywhere.

"What the fuck?" Plixie remarked with disbelief. "Is that Scaratar?"

"Duh!" Blasoom spat. "Does she know how dangerous this is? She's going to get caught!"

"Yeah, but she's killing it out there."

"Can't deny that."

Hornacle poked his head in. Torrt came along soon after. The ruckus even drew in Vhamp. They spoke amongst one another. They were proud! But also worried. This was a huge risk - everyone knew that. Then again, nobody but them knew who was under the mask. Once her performance was over, she was simply praised as 'the masked singer'.

"Should we tell Furnoss?" Torrt asked. He was met with a collective no.

"She's on her own now," Vhamp would argue. "She can choose what she does with her life."

"Isn't this pushing our safety, too?" Hornacle commented.

"Maybe. Scaratar wouldn't give out where we are - at least, I doubt it. We still don't know how a common monster would react to us, and I don't think we want to find out."

They never noticed Galvana standing behind them all. The supernatural monster's eyes carried a look none would have been able to describe. It was rage, betrayal, defeat even. Scaratar had left them behind, and for this? A silly game of fame? Scaratar was no different than the rest now.

They stormed off to their room, the TV flickering as they left. Vhamp glanced over, quietly following to the closed door. He heard papers being thrown, objects tossed aside. He decided to give them time to cool off before trying to engage in conversation.

Furnoss stood outside on the phone as he usually did. It had become more frequent, perhaps a couple times a week. He was preparing to meet with someone the next day in the afternoon, deep within the woods and far from the castle. He was nervous but anxious to see the progress the other monster had made. So much time had passed.

"I did get my nails done," the voice teased. "Just as you suggested."

"Oh? That's nice."

"Are you alright, Furnoss? You seem down."

"Ah.. Scaratar left sooner than expected. So many gone at once."

The fire celestial spoke all of his worries. Some were Scaratar. Some were Syncopite. Some even Attmoz and Glaishur. He knew they were all safe. He trusted them. Perhaps he simply needed to accept the new world he had been reborn in. All this time on Plant Island, and yet he could only think of their days on Starhenge. He couldn't help but feel as though his memories of the past were stronger than the present.

"It's so strange," he sighed. "I've had so many years to accept this life."

"So long as you never stop trying, you'll make it," the voice assured. "We have all the time in the world."

He glanced to the sky, now losing its dark blue color and deepening to black. He could have sworn there were twice as many stars than usual.

The night was calm as ever. The morning carried on with the same talk of yesterday. Of course, Furnoss was left in the dark of it. He intended to spend the daylight hours preparing for the afternoon, so it wasn't hard to avoid him.

Plixie had set up a video call on her laptop, trying to get in contact with Scaratar. She never picked up, likely still enjoying the newfound fame she had earned. As much as they wanted an explanation, they ultimately decided it would be best to live her life. At least, that's what Vhamp told them.

He had noticed Galvana missing, too. Their bedroom door was left cracked open. He wasn't sure if they should peek in or not. It was tempting, but he chose to respect their privacy.

Galvana tossed their satchel over their shoulder, walking along the flattened grass path and past the many trees. Their steps could be heard from miles away. It seem that's exactly what they wanted. It was easy for the celestial to track down their wubbox companion. Sage had remained in the same spot for a while, appearing as nothing more than a tree house with broken planks.

"Sage!" Galvana called. "Sage, I'm sorry!"

The structure fell apart quickly and rebuilt itself just as fast. She fell to her knees, scooping Galvana up into a hug.

"No," she said, "no, don't apologize for a thing! I should'a been nicer about this.. It was awful of me to just lose it at ya like that!"

They held the embrace for a minute. It was hard to let go. Galvana opened their satchel, offering Sage a treat.

"I know it isn't much, but.. it's the least I can do."

What a sweet gift: a pie. It was still quite big for its size, only a single, small slice taken. The wubbox happily finished the rest as a way to say that she accepted the apology. It was definitely.. odd tasting. It's probably old, too. But she appreciated it nonetheless.

"I probably scared you a whole lot," she apologized. "I promise, I won't ever do that again."

"I know you won't," Galvana replied. "It isn't your fault for.. wanting space. I got clingy. It's my own fault."

As much as Sage wanted to thank Galvana for being self-aware, it felt ill mannered. She stood up, offering to teach her friend something new. She had plenty of energy to spare! The Celestial denied it, though. They claimed to have everything they needed.

"What do you mean by that?" She questioned. A chilling sense of fear washed over her with seemingly no source, like any warmth within her body had been sapped out in an instant. Had time slowed?

"Your body processes things differently," Galvana observed, starting to circle the plant wubbox. "Much faster than the common monster. But you're.. different than the other mechanical wubboxes. You're made of organic materials."

Sage gagged, falling to her knees and coughing up a mixture of a red mush and oil-like substance. Her hands shook aggressively against the freezing mud and grass, although it was hard to see through vision growing so very blurry.

"It makes you susceptible to everything we are. Even poison."

"You.." She couldn't finish her sentence. She could hardly breathe. "Why?"

"I'm taking back what's mine; what has always been mine."

Galvana raised their staff, beating the end of the orb into the side of Sages head and snapping off a part of her antler. They raised the staff again, another swing. They just kept hitting her over and over until they were sure she wouldn't get up. Some sort of alert had gone off for mere seconds before falling silent, some kind of distress signal. It will never be answered.

With her down, Galvana swiftly moved to the wubbox's chest. A final swing. Her core cracked. The burning green energy inside spilled out and into the end of the monster's staff, filling the orb with the plant elemental abilities. They made sure not to take everything.

Sage had been deactivated.

Galvana stood over her for a very long time, the surrounding forest feeling every so smothering. Had they really just done this? Someone they have known since childhood, someone who had taught them everything they knew; gone. They had admired her strength, but now, none of it remained.

The supernatural celestial looked through their bag, laying out pages of notes and graphs of each wubboxes internal and external build. They glanced at the guide and then over to Sage, following the instructions that we hastily written down. Slowly, she was reset. Her body began to rebuild itself from the ground. Somewhere, her memory was stored. But there was no way to access them.

Before Galvana stood a new wubbox. Broken, but salvageable. She began to rise from her spot. She ran a few quick tests to ensure every part of her worked as it was intended. Some parts were beyond fixable, but she could function. That's all Galvana needed.

"Sage?" Galvana called.

They held their breath for a moment. The wubbox responded with a turn of her head. Her movements were far more robotic than they had been before, as if she didn't know how to be alive. She simply couldn't remember. There was no need to, either. The Celestial straightened their posture.

"Kneel."

The wubbox crouched down. Galvana was assured of their work.

"Someone will be coming to these woods soon," they spoke to Sage, "Another celestial. When it gets here, make sure he doesn't leave. Keep yourself hidden, too, and bring no one with you except him. I'll return later tonight. Be ready for a long trip."

Galvana gathered their many belongings, hiding them within their satchel. Their new friend remained in the woods as she had been told. The monster fled back to the castle, past Furnoss, and into their room. Much was to gather.

They had been preparing to set their plan into action for so long. Finally, after such eager waiting, it was time for the divine return of the fallen star.

#my singing monsters #fallen stars msm #msm #fallen stars au #msm au #fanfiction #meta af but idc #im cringe but im free

[maddiebat]

Subliminal, A post-Frontiers SonAmy fic

After the events of Frontiers, Sonic and his friends have gone their separate ways. Sonic should be totally fine with traveling on his own; it's how his lifestyle has always been... and yet he can't help but feel empty without them. With the events of Rhea Island living in his head, escaping Cyperspace is only the beginning, and when he finds himself in front of Amy's apartment, he has a decision to make about confronting his surfacing subliminal thoughts.

Hey!!! This is my first sonamy fic. Very fluff, very angst, and inspired off the idle lines in Frontiers! This is just the first Chapter. The rest of the finished fic is up on my A03, which is pinned on my profile. Hope you like it! Feedback welcome!

Chapter 1 - Magnetic

Station Square, despite being a bustling metropolis, was pretty tranquil in the late hours of the night. The concrete jungle wasn’t as open and freeing as he’d like for a run, but the views from the rooftops and the atmosphere were what drew him in. Sonic was a well-known hero here, but thankfully he had saved the city so many times, he was just another part of their boring 9-5 routine. As he paced down the city blocks, people walked around him, paying him no mind. It was almost comforting to not be paid attention to and just blend into a crowd. Dashing past a hot dog stand, he snagged his meal in a blur, leaving his tip of rings behind. Even running up a streetlamp and parkouring onto an awning, he received some slight head turns, but eventually they kept walking, uninterested. Sprinting up the side of a building, he sat on the edge, letting one of his legs hang off. The already chill air started to bite him up at this height, but he didn’t mind. 

Wolfing down his food, he stared at the familiar skyline. He had grown to appreciate it almost as much as the sprawling canopies of Mystic Ruins, but the city always gave him a distant ache in his heart. Maybe it was just the way a big city made you feel small, maybe he was homesick for the forest, or maybe…maybe it was something else. His eyes drifted across his periphery, watching cars drive back and forth, sheepishly.

Then his eyes settled on a window.  

It was just an unassuming window, one of a hundred others on the building, but he felt the ice of anxiety run through his veins. The light was on, the drapes just ever so slightly pushed to the side, like the person living there liked to watch the skyline late at night too:Like they could walk out onto the balcony to enjoy the view at any moment. Without thinking, his legs started to move for him, until he realized he had jumped across the street, using the buildings like stepping stones, and arrived in front of the complex. He stared up at it perplexed, like it was a calculus equation. 

Months and months had gone by and that one window light had stayed dark. He had stopped checking after a while. But now it glowed at him in the middle of the night like a beacon, pulling him in. He recognized that every fiber of his being wanted to run up to the window and peer inside, and that unsettled him. Despite his mind screaming at him to carry on like usual, to just drop it, he didn’t stop himself from scaling up the fire escape. And when he finally landed on the balcony railing, he also didn’t stop himself from peering into the window…

The flower pot by his foot toppled over and shattered into pieces. 

He felt his arms and legs go numb from the sudden panic. Almost immediately, he heard a shuffling noise from inside and the sliding door creak open.

Amy Rose stepped out onto the balcony, dressed in a simple white nightgown, a sleeping mask pushed up against her bangs over her eyes. Looking down she saw the flower pot in pieces, a lavender rose lying helplessly on the concrete. She scanned the area cautiously, but there was only the whirr of the wind. 

Sonic held back the urge to take a deep breath, all his air trapped in his chest. He dared not move a muscle. Hanging off the balcony above hers, he watched as she inspected, praying to Chaos she didn’t glance up. 

Seeing nothing of note, she huffed dejectedly and turned to make her way back inside. 

He was horrified to face her, but watching her walk away seemed just as terrifying to him. He thought for sure his anxiety would keep him glued there forever in a decision limbo, but some autonomy in him took over. The way he felt like he was internally imploding, he thought the words would come out as a yell, but instead it was a hoarse whisper. 

“Wait—Amy..!” 

Letting go of the above balcony, he plopped in front of her. She clutched her chest in shock, eyes wide. He half expected her to clobber him with her Piko Piko hammer.  

He stood there stiff as a log, awkwardly awaiting whatever her response would be. 

“Sonic, what on earth—!?” She managed out. Despite the absolute shock of it all, she seemed to cope pretty quickly. “That was my favorite vase, you know.” 

“I can… buy you another one.” He responded meekly. He looked down, rubbing his head nervously. 

Instead of the venomous reply he expected, she simply gestured towards the door. “I know.” She smiled reassuringly. We can talk about it inside, yeah?” 

———————————————————-

Amy’s apartment felt extremely warm and familiar to him despite it being ages since he’d been inside. The interior was a lot more minimalist than he expected from her. It smelled like spice candles from the craft store with the quirky knick knacks to match. He wasn’t sure if it was the comfortable temperature or her welcoming smile, but he felt his frigid body warming up from the outside cold. 

She offered him a seat in the living room while she headed off to the kitchen to get some warm drinks. He sat rigidly on the couch with his hands tightly clasped together. He could just barely see her petite figure over the countertop from here. She was muttering to herself and opening cupboards left and right. 

His feet tapped impatiently. His fingers drummed on the couch’s armrest. If there’s one thing Sonic was excellent at, it was fidgeting and not being good at small talk. So how did he wind up in a situation where he was a fish out of water? 

More importantly, why did he do it to himself? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud shatter and a sharp inhale from Amy. Quicker than a blink, he was in the kitchen to see Amy on the floor, a broken mug in pieces beside her. Her hands were frozen in time like she was still trying to catch it. 

“Hey, you good?” Sonic prompted, crouching down to her level, barely grazing his hand on the small of her back. 

She let out a deep exhale. When she turned to face him, he didn’t see the bubbly Amy Rose he had always known, but someone ragged and defeated instead. 

“Yeah…just. Dropped a cup.” She muttered. She went to pick up the broken pieces, but Sonic held out his hand to stop her and shook his head, instead grabbing a broom and dustpan from the corner. They silently cleaned up the mess together, working in unspoken unison. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t even bother with the hot cocoa. You’re not a hot drink person anyway.” She remarked, dumping the dustpan into the garbage. 

Sonic’s heartstrings twisted in his chest. “Hey c’mon, I think a cup of cocoa sounds nice right about now, actually…” He offered her one of his trademark hero smiles. 

She returned a smile of her own as she walked up to the cupboard to grab another cup. This time though, Sonic beat her to it and easily snatched two off the shelf for her, setting them on the counter. 

“Alright now, where do you keep the marshmallows?”

———————————-

With two cups of hot cocoa heating up their hands, they made their way to the living room to cozy up on the sectional couch. Amy bundled herself up behind a throw blanket, but Sonic, still feeling rather awkward, sat at the cushion’s edge across from her, afraid to get too comfortable. 

There was a painful, knowing silence between them, but thankfully Amy was the one to initiate conversation. 

“So, you’re here in Station Square.” She shot him a snickering glance, remembering his less than model entry. “At three in the morning, knocking over flower pots. What’s got you in this part of town? I thought you didn’t like the city life much.” 

Sonic felt his face flush a bit. Man, he really goofed on that one. He rubbed his nose with his pointer finger. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up, by the way.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. My sleep schedule is all messed up. You were going to say?“ she deflected. 

“Well, I figured I’d give the city a visit for once. There’s still things to like about it. Thought I could maybe catch you in town while I was at it.” 

In response to his comment, for a second, he could see that familiar sparkle in her eyes, only for her to suppress it with a gulp of hot cocoa. “Yeah, I actually just came back to Station Square earlier this week. I was in Spagonia for a few months.” 

“Spagonia? Were you on vacation?”

“Hardly.” She let a giggle slip though. That part of her that was missing. And god did he miss it. Maybe he could draw it out again. “I was studying at the university.”

“Woah Ames, no way? What did you study?” Sonic exclaimed, genuinely interested. 

His comment seemed to fluster her a bit, but she went for another sip to hide it. “Business management, some social studies, nothing crazy. I just wanted something to do, really.” She explained, trying to downplay it. “It was really nice to do something productive for myself. I’ll probably be going back soon, after the winter break.”

I wanna share that love with the world, even though it may take us far apart…

His heart dropped at the mention, but after clearing his throat for a moment, he thought of a good response. “Hey, sounds good to me.” He lied to himself. “…I wanna hear all about it when you get back.”

She nodded, Sonic’s words seeming to give her some resolve she had been needing. “Mhm.” She nervously brushed a quill away from her face. 

And there she slipped away again. Man, where was she? The Amy that was fiery as hell, brimming with optimism and energy, his Amy. Well— everyone’s Amy of course. The want for her back was enough to give him the courage to ask. “Hey Ames…you doin’ ok?”

“Oh you mean the cup? The glass didn’t cut me. It’s fine I got them on sale anyways—“

“No I mean…in general. You know.” He really wasn’t good at this kinda stuff. But he had grown up some from the emotionally stunted boy he used to be. The least he could do is ask a prompting question about his friend’s wellbeing. 

The look on her face had a million emotions painted on it. Maybe he messed up by asking, he thought to himself. Amy took a deep breath and seemed to steady her breathing, then took a small pause before answering. 

“Do you…ever think about Cyberspace?”

If a question could metaphorically make you feel hit by a truck, this was the one. It stunned him so much to have the topic brought up, he almost forgot to respond. 

“Yeah.” Was all he could muster out. 

She continued. “I know you already know how it feels, but, being trapped in Cyberspace…it felt like I wasn’t even alive anymore. I couldn’t touch, feel, smell, even what I could see, it didn’t feel right.” She stared down the cocoa in her mug. “Being trapped there for so long. I felt like I was losing myself. And when I came out, I really thought that I did.”

He was well aware of what she meant, and she had told him before back on the Starfall Islands…but hearing it again wasn’t any less heartbreaking. He stayed silent, waiting for her to say more. 

“So when it was all over, I was determined to go out and try new things, meet new people, travel the world, I guess remind myself that I was alive and that I wasn’t trapped anymore. But…I never felt better. I couldn’t sleep. Had nightmares almost every night. And the worst part, no one else in the world would understand what it was like if I tried to explain…aside from us y’know. The only thing that gave me hope was…was…”

That’s when she bore into his soul with her emerald eyes, locking him in place. It took her a long time to get her words out, but he was going to wait here forever to hear it if he had to. 

“I saw everything.”

It was such a simple, vague answer, but it encompassed and contextualized absolutely everything he could have subconsciously felt about the situation. And he was afraid.

He’d been jittery this whole time, but now the apprehension was really cementing. He was really hoping he didn’t look as much of a mess as he felt. 

She placed her cup of cocoa down on the low table in front. He followed suit, feeling guilty since he didn’t drink any. She held her hands against her chest, as if she had to hold back the emotions in her from pouring out at once. 

“Cyberspace, it showed me your memories, your thoughts, your feelings. When we switched places on Rhea Island…I saw all of it.” She exhaled a sigh of relief as if she had been holding her breath this entire time.

He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Without thinking, he let his thoughts slip out of his mouth in a whisper. “I know.”

#sonamy #sonamy fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #a03 fic #a03 link pinned on my profile

[grumpyascianteddybear]

@seatedsacrifice

@atdutiesend

Neither of you asked for this, but here it is.

She had joined him in the tower after recompleting herself. Aurora had only done it hoping that her ancient self would know how to save her father. Her mother was already gone, having returned and choosing never to reincarnate. She had never found it in herself to be mad about it. The eighth rejoining had taken away what they both held dear, and her mother could not cope with the loss. After Eons of heartbreak, to lose him again after only just getting him back had been the final nail in the coffin.

Now she walked the Crystarum, dressed in a white cloak with gold detailing. A mask that once symbolized love adorned her face, keeping her features from view. It mimicked the shape of her father's crimson mask but was handed painted. A night sky with his constellation that the Aurora Borealis accented. The ridges of the mask were blue and held forget-me-nots: her mother's favorite flower and a reminder. She would never forget what they sought and what had to be done. The Warrior had to be saved, and the eighth calamity halted. It was the only way to save both her parents and her other self.

Symphony was already here, but there were others here as well. Raha had trouble getting a hold of the warrior and perhaps worse yet. Her mother had followed, using ascian technics to do it. At first, it had confused her as to why, but upon finding that Symphony was a shard of her grandmother, it made sense. It also meant avoiding all of them as much as possible, as her mother would know this mask well. There were also constant questions about why they had not seen the famed Miss Borealis.

When Granpy appeared, she knew that she was dead in the water. She could not hide from his sight, so it was no surprise when he approached her. To see him like this, still possessing his sense of self, was jarring. The version of him she had last seen had joined Fandanial, bent on destroying the Star he had once loved dearly. His grief had been too much for his own mind to bear after losing his daughter and son-in-law.

“ Was it really that bad?”

The question earned him a humorless chuckle as she turned to face him. Her bi-color eyes now glowed and could easily be seen through the eyes of the mask. There was a tired look as if she had seen things no person should ever have to see. “ Considering my father ceases the exist, his soul slowly replaced with a primal. My mother returns and never reincarnates again after they lose him a second time which is now very permanent.”

Aurora watched him flinch as she spoke. For a moment, she saw it, the grief-stricken madness that would consume him in her timeline. “ And you, you were all I had left. You lose all semblance of yourself and join Fandanal on his crusade to end the star you once held so dearly.”

“ Alright, yes, all of that is absolutely terrible.”

Aurora drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. He had already siphoned off two wardens from Symphony, the tempering crumbling under the weight of the light. This would make things easier. Once that tempering was gone, he could think clearly without the primals influence. He would once again be fit for his damned seat. After that, all that would be left was for her father to be cleansed. How that was going to happen, she did not know, given his connection to the primal. It was something they would not figure out later. With only he left among the unsundered-tempered, it would be harder for him to get things going.

“ The Eighth Calamity can never occur, or he will be lost, and with him so many others.” Aurora stated as she looked back out over the lands beyond the Crystarium. She often wondered, not tied to the tower like Raha was. They could do this. They would rewrite history, and all would be made right. She would cease to be most likely, but she was ready. Knowing her other self would not have to go through what she had put her at ease. 

“ She is returning with the light of another warden.” Aurora stated as she moved to leave him. She knew Granpy had much to think about. Things that his tempering likely didn’t enjoy at the moment. It would be weakened more soon, so she was not worried. She listened as he turned a walked away from her, footsteps fading fast. They had chosen to walk instead of teleport spoke volumes. 

“ You will not be lost this time, Daddy. I swear it on my very life.” She breathed out before teleporting to the top of the tower. She needed time to think about that little talk. Once Grandpa was no longer tempered, she knew her father would come. Would she be able to face him without breaking down in tears? Or would her carefully maintained poker face finally break? She supposed that only time would tell.

#paragraphs of the borealis(aurora ficlet) #paragraphs of the abyss(emet ficlet) #atdutiesend #seatedsacrifice

[ayamturd]

end│dreamwastaken

summary: dream was once your everything that you would do anything for; what happens when you finally confront the reality of his manipulation and sadistic destruction?

prompt: “we’re both at fault here, and now we both have to pay the price.” 

warnings: descriptive manipulation, a single curse word, angst

pairing: in-game c!dream

a/n: this is my entry for @sleepysoupi​‘s 1.8k event! it goes without saying how late i am considering she’s currently working on her 2.0k event, but still a huge congratulatory to her amazing success and obvious, well deserved recognition <33 we love soupi in this household, nothing less of the fact *^*

also i know the prison doesn’t work exactly like how i wrote it, but let’s pretend for the sake of this fic

wc: (1.6k) - m.list

“Don’t do this, y/n.”

The air was sticky and heavy. As the lava bubbled behind you, it felt as if the heat could reach out and smother you entirely; the subtle warmth that felt insufferably suffocating in the tight space was a large contrast to the dark, opaque walls. 

Although you stood in front of him by your own desire, habits quickly fell to place as he stood proudly above you. Chin raised, Dream’s shoulders were relaxed while he spoke to you. His words were firm, and with clenched fists, you swallowed harshly from his mocking tone. 

You could practically hear his condescending grin without looking in how belittling he addressed you, and you hated how familiar the speech was. 

“After all I’ve done for you, and you want to throw it all away?”

Despite all attempts, you unconsciously bowed your head down. Whether in unjustified guilt or the internal rage from his lies, you couldn’t say yourself. He noticed nonetheless, and played into your vulnerability further. 

He was the one defenseless in this scenario, yet he held all the power in the small cage between the two of you. 

“We made promises! ‘Till the very end, right?!” He began to raise his voice and feigned some form of heartbreak, taking a step dangerously closer to you while you stood there in frozen fear.

Staring harshly down at your feet, the weight of gravity pulled at your tears as they trickled down sparsely. This was different than when you originally confronted him mere hours ago. Here, you were alone and with no backing, no one to reassure you that you did the right thing. That he was a monster that had you blinded for so long.

That you were justified for betraying Dream. 

“Don’t play stupid with me now. You can’t act like I did this all alone. That I’m not the only sick fuck in the room who enjoys the-”

“Stop it,” you whispered with closed eyes. While your voice was small, it echoed so loudly and threw Dream off guard. He shook his head and with a dark chuckle, sneered disparagingly. 

“You really th-”

Your eyes opened as you unexpectedly interrupted him.

“No. For once in my life, I mean it. Shut your egotistical mouth for one goddamn second.”

Everything was in a frozen stand still as you snapped. 

Course tears ran steadily down your cheeks, yet your eyes held more strength than Dream could had ever perceived in that moment. It had been so long since you had lost your voice. Lost your confidence, your fire that drew him in in the first place. It had been so long since you felt like yourself again, the person you once were before he teared you down completely to his mercy. 

You swallowed sternly in exposed anxiety; when was the last time you saw his face like this? Saw his face at all, at that. 

The molten lava radiated the room, it being the main source of light in contrast to the faint glow of the lanterns built into the walls. When you had originally requested to see him one final time before he was officially locked away for good, you had no idea what you expected to see. You didn’t see anything, actually, since you couldn’t bring yourself to try and meet his eye line the entire time. 

Until now. 

As the magma shaded the room in a warm shine, his dull eyes gleamed a faded hue of ash green. His dirty blond hair was visible without his signature hoodie, his previous clothes stripped away and replaced with an attired uniform instead. He hid behind a mask for so long, it was surreal to see him as something so mundane and human.

Your mouth felt so dry from seeing him again. He almost looked like when you first laid eyes on him, that beautiful day when you thought you had fallen in love. How nice the sun felt, and how crisp the wind blew. The summer day was fresh and the sweet smell of honey pervaded the air. To think it was by mere chance he approached you in the white flower field, hidden in the depths of the forest with a charming smile and gentle hand.

How cruel reality liked to play with you and give you false hope that such love could truly exist. 

The memory brought a smoldering rage that made your heart race in return. Back straight, you dared a step towards him with a quiet, yet firm declaration. 

“I’m done making excuses for your lies. For your actions, for the hurt you cause, for you.”

Dream could barely register your words as you continued in growing fury. It was like the floodgates were open and you felt free to speak your truth. 

You were riding this new found wave and would hold nothing back anymore. 

“I let you get away with so much because I truly believed that I loved you. That my love could fix you, or change what you are.”

You stepped forward again, your finger shakily pointed at him. His mouth opened to respond but you spoke before he could try. You weren’t going to give him anything, you thought, he doesn’t deserve your silence.

“I went against everything I believed!” you suddenly yelled, “everything I stood for, everything I thought because of you!”

Your vision was a blur as your raw emotions came loose. You screamed from the top of your lungs to the point where your voice cracked with a head lifted high. 

“I let people get hurt! People I love and care for because I prioritized you over everything I had!”

Another step forward, your voice shook with quivered lips as a result of an ached and long scorned heart.

“To think I used to be so proud to say it, to say you were my everything and my world.” With a trembled exhale, you gathered yourself before finishing your thought. “Maybe I am stupid, but trust me when I say my ignorance was your freedom and my considered love a blind devotion.”

Dream’s face softened considerably, for he was at a loss for words and didn’t have anything to probe at anymore. It was his turn to suffer in a lost acceptance.

“I…”

Shaking your head, you scoffed with your head tilted in disbelief. Smiling darkly, you knew then and there you regained the power of the room and your self-assurance over him. How the turn tables.

“Funny how things change when you have no where to run. When you’re the one helpless and reliant.”

Standing strong with your arms crossed, you stared at him with such distaste. Dream’s brows furrowed with a clench jaw as he stepped even closer to you. He was now mere inches away and glared down at you from his given height. Even then, you wouldn’t back down any longer.

“I do love you, y/n. Everything I did, I did for us. You can’t leave me like this.” He gazed down with such intensity that your past you would have wanted to say something just to appease him entirely; you weren’t that person anymore, and you wouldn’t let him drag you down more than he already has. 

Dropping yours arms before stepping back, you messaged Sam without wavering your eye contact from him. 

“We’re both at fault here, and now we both have to pay the price of it alone.”

The sounded mechanics from outside the box indicated the lava dropping, signifying the end of your visit. Dream grew agitated at the thought of you leaving and dropped his eyes down in resent, a huge contrast to your relaxed and calm state. 

You moved backwards until your back threatened to be burned by the heat. 

“Here’s to loosing all those attachments you mentioned.”

Dream’s head snapped up from your words, but before he could attempt anything further, the Netherite divider rose and separated you both. The lava parted as you approached the platform, Sam visible from across the entrapping moat. He watched closely in regard to your safety and anything Dream might try with your back currently turned. 

Approaching the stone platform once deemed safe, you turned to face him a final time as the contraption slowly pulled you away. Your chin was raised, and your tears were dry in satisfaction to your found closure.

“You were right,” you affirmed, “we did make promises, and this is our end.”

Bonus:

Tommy had been tormenting Dream for the past few minutes or so, his obnoxious taunts a sign of recovery from all the trauma he had dealt with from his young age. He hid behind his humor, but was strong when confronting his abuser with no uncertainty then. 

“Who do you miss the most?”

Dream paused from fiddling with the leather of the book covers from the simple question. His hand began to curl around the thick material, and he drowned out Tommy’s rambling from behind him.

A familiar scent filled his senses, an old and precious memory uncovered from the oppressed depths of his mind. He pulled the book in hand open to a random, but intentional page, his callous fingers tracing over the stained ink.

He wasn’t an artist, and it easily would have been passed for messy, nonsense doodles, yet the drawing practically burned the paper as a reminder of his failed objectives.

The innocent azure bluets insulted him despite being his own creation.

Dream was done playing into Tommy’s confidence, and spoke lowly as his head turned further away from the boy.

“… I think you should go, Tommy."

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dreamwastaken x gn!reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dsmp x reader #sleepysoupi 1.8k writing event

[theres-a-goldensky]

30 More The Untamed Fic Recs

Here we go again. Another Wangxian rec list. Are you bored of me yet?

Were these recs helpful to you? If so, you can check out my other Wangxian rec posts:

Part 1 - 40 recs

Part 2 - 23 recs

Part 3 - 23 recs

As ever, feel free to reblog.

You can also head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

1. say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn - ~69,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian after he adopts a small A-Yuan, because Wei Wuxian also has a past with him. Lots of adorable family feelings and emotional hurt/comfort.

As often happened, Wei Ying’s voice preceded his entrance, calling to his co-worker through the open door, “Frankie, they forgot to order spoons again, can you hold down the fort a little longer while I —”

Lan Wangji was already looking to his entrance, head turning as if magnetized toward the voice, so he saw the moment when Wei Ying’s eyes landed on A-Yuan and the smile fell from his face. He looked stricken, and Lan Wangji immediately looked to his son in alarm. A-Yuan seemed fine. His small eyebrows were pulled together in a small frown as he looked back at Wei Ying, but that wasn’t surprising, given the expression on Wei Ying’s face. Lan Wangji had seen that face beaming, laughing, whining, wheedling, and occasionally angry, but never like this. He looked blank and hollow and it stirred something fierce in Lan Wangji: he wanted to rise up and obliterate whatever was making him look like that. Then his eyes lifted to Lan Wangji and there was a flash of something almost like betrayal, before he pressed his lips together and turned his back.

“I’m going to run out to the store and get spoons,” he said in a flat voice to his co-worker, and left without looking their way again.

2. the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships - ~41,000 words, mature - This is an AU of the novel where Wei Wuxian puts two and two together when Lan Zhan sneaks that kiss from him. It changes a lot of things.

Against his own will, Wei Wuxian found himself glancing at Lan Wangji’s hands. They were… certainly large enough that one of them could wrap around both of his wrists. And Lan Wangji was certainly strong enough, tall enough, broad-shouldered enough to bodily pin him against the trunk of a tree with no chance of him breaking free. Lan Wangji was the first person he’d come across in his slow comb through the vicinity of where he’d been so headily kissed.

Wei Wuxian drew a sharp breath. There was a connection to be made here. He didn’t think he was crazy enough to make it. Perhaps he truly was going slightly insane with demonic cultivation if he could believe Lan Wangji, the paragon of virtue and respectability, who lived unflinchingly under Gusu Lan’s three thousand edicts, who had at best only tolerated his presence as children, would sneak up to him while he was blindfolded, pin him against a tree, and steal a kiss from him in broad daylight.

3. and his wanting grows teeth by yukla - ~25,000 words, teen - This is a very interesting AU where Lan Zhan is a traveling cultivator and runs into Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs looking for shelter during a snowstorm. No spoilers, but this fic goes to a pretty dark place that genuinely shocked me, but I enjoyed. (Still ends well though.)

Without further ado, they are hustled past the entrance and into a smaller greeting area. Huang-bobo approaches the brazier in the center with his hands outstretched, warming his fingers in the heat, but Lan Wangji hangs back. As he carefully brushes the snow free from his shoulders, he feels the burn of a curious gaze trailing up and down his body, lingering at the guqin still strapped to his back; when the sensation pauses at his face and stays there, he lifts his head.

The boy with the ribbon lights up at the eye contact, flashes another dazzling smile, and gives a little wave.

“You must be new here,” he whispers, something like laughter threaded into his voice, eyes scrunching into winking half-moons. “All dressed up in white like that! You might lose yourself in the snowstorm!”

Something stirs to life in Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s—uncomfortable, he decides, and so he steps away. Teasing should not be encouraged with a response.

4. Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller - ~15,000 words, not rated - After Wei Ying's death, his spirit seems to linger. The story is told from Lan Xichen's point of view. I love an outsider point of view. I also love the way the author fleshes out his character as well.

Lan Xichen means to force his way inside, angry ghost of the Yiling Patriarch or no, but then his brother lets out slow breath, settling, the pain easing from his face as he falls back into a more peaceful sleep.

His hair is moving on its own, so subtly Lan Xichen might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking at Wangji so intently. It’s like someone’s running their hand through his hair.

The window frosts over suddenly, thick enough that he can’t see through it. Anxiety spikes through him so quickly he’s nauseous with it, but then the frost melts away and the opening notes of Healing start up again.

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or not. Maybe it’s just an acknowledgement. Wei Wuxian knows he’s there.

5. **leading tone by silencemostofall - ~32,000 words, general - This is a modern AU set in a world where people who love you leave a mark of color on you the first time you touch. Wei Wuxian has no color on him. So much emotional hurt/comfort. So much of Wei Wuxian's terrible self-esteem.

He can cover up his palms with his gloves, so that the blankness does not draw stares. But he has no marks on his fingertips, which he cannot easily hide, and none visible on his face or neck, the blankness of which is even more difficult to hide. People look at him and, with a single glance, understand the single most devastating truth that he knows about himself.

They assume that he does not have very many marks. He may be an eccentric, dramatic person, but the likelihood that an individual has all of their marks on, say, their feet or their torso or other places that are not immediately obvious-- that probability goes down as your number of marks increases. He can laugh as much as he wants about how he loves touching people for the first time with odd places, like the knee or the elbow, but it doesn't quite mask the feeling of other that he knows he exudes.

They assume that he does not have a lot of marks. This, while a heavy weight, is not unbearably so. It is okay that they think he is not much loved. It chafes a bit, and feels occasionally like something he has to furiously push down within himself, but it is not unbearable. What would be unbearable is if they knew the truth: that he does not just have very few marks, but none. That he is simply an individual who is not loved at all.

6. **pastel by antebunny - ~7,000 words, gen - This is a remix work of the above fic. It's from Lan Zhan's point of view and just different enough to be interesting. Still lots of emotional hurt/comfort. I love this concept a whole lot, and both of these fics are great.

It’s a simmering day in May, and Wei Ying is wearing long sleeves, long pants, and gloves.

His choice of dress isn’t unusual for many reasons. For one, there’s plenty of people who don’t like strangers seeing their soulmarks. There’s plenty of people who wish to keep them private by covering them up. For another, Wei Ying spends most of his day in various chilly computer science department rooms, He could just be wearing long sleeves for that.

7. one good thing by Yuu_chi - ~27,000 words, teen - Wei Wuxian has died (or did he??) and is haunting his old home. Lan Zhan moves in. This story has a happy ending! And so much yearning!

To the flowers struggling to grow on the other side of the glass, he says, “We’re getting a new roommate. Well, I’m getting a new roommate - you’re getting somebody who might actually be able to water you for a change.” The flowers outside sway a little in the breeze, and Wei Wuxian nods contemplatively. “He can’t be any worse than the last guy who lived here. Remember when I spooked him while he was cooking and he nearly burnt the house down? Of course you don’t. You’re fucking foliage, your memory is worse than mine. I remember though, so it’s cool.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him and Wei Wuxian looks up to see the stranger has entered the kitchen, setting the last of the boxes down on the table. Disgustingly neat handwriting declares the box kitchen - homeware. The stranger carefully brushes his hair back from his face and, without so much as a second of hesitation, cracks open the box and begins unpacking.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?” Wei Wuxian marvels. “You literally just got here - who cares about unpacking? Sit down for a moment, breathe, have something to eat. It’s not going anywhere.”

8. with you, I am home by tellthemstories - ~47,000 words, mature - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is being forced to return home to entertain marriage proposals. So naturally instead he "convinces" Lan Zhan to pretend to date him. I love a good fake dating fic, and this one hits all the right beats.

Lan Zhan does that almost-smile thing that Wei Wuxian takes to mean he’s happy, or at the very least not-mad. “You don’t have any money.”

“Not true. I have the money from our last job, when we settled the vengeful spirit for the flower shop girl.” (He doesn’t. They have Lan Zhan’s money. Wei Wuxian spent his on a pack of loquats and three bottles of Emperor’s Smile wine.)

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do it for me.”

Thinking back on it two weeks later, standing alone in the middle of Jin Ling’s graduation banquet and watching Lan Zhan walk away from him, Wei Wuxian realises that this, this was the moment when he should have known. He should have realised in the way Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate or negotiate and just says with that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he gets sometimes, “Fine.”

9. and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen - ~11,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying can't find Lan Zhan, but hey, there happens to be a rabbit here instead. Features a very slow Wei Ying, emotional hurt/comfort and accidental love confessions.

Immediately, his heart settles and he grins down at his new friend. “Oh, hello there,” he coos, reaching out to pet the fluffy ears. The bunny is very, very still under his hand.

“Did Lan Zhan bring you today?,” he continues cooing. “I’m sorry I missed that, but your Dad didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

Lan Zhan rarely brings his rabbits to work since they are as tolerant of crowds and unnecessary noise as he is. They were probably relevant to today’s lesson but…

Wei Ying frowns. “Why would he leave you alone? And where is your cage?”

10. how, or when, or from where by sarahyyy - ~10,000 words, gen - Wei Ying wakes up in the hospital with amnesia and can't remember the last few years of his life, including his best friend and the guy he's in love with.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard Wei Wuxian is surprised his eyeballs don’t just fall out of his eye sockets. “That’s the worst part. He did. Whatever mating ritual you both have going on is so fucking weird, Wei Wuxian.” He snorts. “If you’d stayed asleep for any longer, I’d have lost my shit and thrown my myself out a window just so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lan Wangji again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Is this a good time to ask who Lan Wangji is?”

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Your Lan Zhan,” he says, annoyed. Wei Wuxian must look as confused as he feels, because Jiang Cheng’s annoyance bleeds out into concern. “Your Lan er-gege? Your soulmate, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No bells are ringing.”

11. ** a shared plate by yukla - ~26,000 words, teen - This is an absolutely gorgeous fic about Wei Wuxian traveling the world post-canon to rediscover himself and restore his faith in humanity and eventually find his way back to Lan Zhan. The whole thing is great, but the last two chapters are just *chef's kiss*

Lan Zhan,

Just as the mountains stand unchanging and the green rivers flow ceaselessly, we will meet again — and between then and now, you cannot hope to avoid my letters, either! Haha! Lan Zhan, I’ve seen so many things and met so many people, and it’s only been a month!

I miss you already

It’s so hot that I find myself missing the wind in Gusu’s mountains. Your poor Wei Ying is I’m melting away, Lan Zhan...

I’m realizing now, sixteen years is a long time to be away — the world is vast, and quite a bit different than I remembered. And in sixteen years, a child can also grow up into a man! It’s your job to catch me up on A-Yuan’s fun childhood stories! I do remember hearing something about a pile of rabbits...

12. with your arms outstretched to me by annemari - ~14,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan finally gets up the nerve to ask Wei Ying on a date, but things don't go as expected. Features emotional hurt/comfort (are we sensing a theme with these recs??) and just regular hurt/comfort.

"Oh, man, I was hoping you had some water with you," Wei Ying says. "I totally forgot to bring any for myself. Stupid of me."

"There is enough for both of us," Lan Wangji says. He has another bigger bottle in the car, as well.

Wei Ying hums but he only takes a few sips. He presses it back into Lan Wangji's hand. "I don't need any more."

Lan Wangji is considering arguing, but then Wei Ying shifts a bit, moving his ankle, and gasps very, very quietly.

13. ** A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart - ~22,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian has finished traveling and returned to the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan. But their lives never do run smoothly.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, recognizing him after a moment. His heart slams against his rib cage. “Where is Lan Zhan? What’s happened?”

Lan Jingyi flaps a hand at him, gulping air. Wei Wuxian hands him the water, and leans back against Little Apple’s side as he waits impatiently for the boy to get his breath back.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Jingyi gasps, just as Wei Wuxian is about to throttle a proper answer out of him. “Hanguang Jun was in such a state when he woke up, we didn’t know if you’d come and gone already.”

“Where is he, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, as evenly as he can. “What happened?”

14. So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend - ~14,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel extraordinary pain unless he's touching Lan Zhan. Yet more of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues and Lan Zhan's steadfast devotion.

“Are you hurt, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, pressing his hand to Wei Ying’s forehead to feel his temperature. There is no fever, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate Lan Wangji’s worries.

“No—I’m not hurt,” says Wei Ying, sagging forward to lean his weight into Lan Wangji’s hand like he can’t help himself.

It’s so strange—Lan Wangji can feel what Wei Ying is feeling. Although the relief is still very profound, wisps of other things are making themselves known; happiness; wistfulness; guilt. It’s all so fleeting that Lan Wangji can’t even begin to deduce what has provoked those feelings, but he wishes he knew their source.

15. puzzle pieces by Anonymous - ~6,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are roommates, and Wei Ying has started borrowing Lan Zhan's clothes.

“Hm? Oh.” With sleepy eyes that does— things to Lan Zhan’s heart, he blinks and tugs at the lower hem of the shirt, which is riding just above the curve of his thighs. Does Lan Zhan’s mouth water? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ He blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that Lan Zhan wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks. But he can’t say that, and his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything else. So he stays silent.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “If you—oh, damn, I should’ve known, this is like real silk, must’ve been super expensive. Fuck. Okay, here, uh, I’ll take it off—“

16. ** Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl - ~60,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Ying is trying to be a good brother and get Jiang Cheng laid. Somehow this plan involves pretending to date Lan Zhan.

"I won't!" Wei Ying insists. "I'll ask out someone...high stakes. I'll find someone. I'll...okay, how's this? I swear that I'll ask someone out and keep at it for at least two dates."

"No."

"Three dates."

"Nope."

"Okay, okay, five. That's fair! That's more than fair! One person, five dates." He points at Jiang Cheng. "You have to do it, too. That's how a pact works."

Jiang Cheng stares at him. "Five dates," he says flatly. "Five. And yours can't be Nie Huaisang."

17. i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) - ~43,000 words, explicit - This is a Modern AU and a Cherry Magic AU! (Side note: GO WATCH CHERRY MAGIC IF YOU HAVEN'T.) But in short, Wei Ying turns 30 without losing his virginity and gets the power to hear people's thoughts when he touches them. He gets more than he bargained for with Lan Zhan. The author does a good job of translating the story to these characters. Wei Ying is not forced to be like Adachi, the main character of Cherry Magic. He's still himself, and the same goes for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s voice is so clear, so sudden that it’s as though it’s spoken, the slice of a sharp object through velvet.

He’s touching me.

Wei Ying startles for a moment, wonders if he’d somehow heard his own thoughts instead, but — no, that had definitely been Lan Zhan’s steady, factual baritone, loud and clear.

God, this is still so weird. It still doesn’t seem totally real. But how else can he account for hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d spoken to Wei Ying directly?

18. like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar - ~37,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are roommates, and Lan Zhan just finds himself wanting to take care of Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s roommate. Is a problem.

He doesn’t get an answer to the roommate problem until the next morning, when Lan Xichen texts him telling him that the apartment he’d suggested (and helped pay rent for) to Lan Wangji said in the small text that it’d be two people per apartment, the second bedroom wasn’t actually a guest bedroom, sorry, Wangji, you can move in with me if you want, I have space —

No. Thank you for your kind offer, Brother, but I will be quite fine, Lan Wangji texts back.

19. ** some impulse of delight by handclaps - ~20,000 words, explicit - College AU where Wei Ying decides he needs to help Lan Zhan get used to touching people. Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying is dumb and in love. Lan Zhan is less dumb, but still as in love.

Lan Zhan shakes his head and fumbles, tries to push the cotton wool into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, realising. “Touching people, I know.”

He feels dumb. He thought he’d worn Lan Zhan down more than this, that they were friends now and that his whole no touching thing was mostly overcome. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand easily, right? He looks down at his belly full of scratches, dabbing at them moodily.

“Sorry,” he says, again.

Lan Zhan makes some kind of noise, but he is busy packing the first aid kit back, placing everything exactly where it was before.

“Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to do something about this,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I know you don’t like touching people and usually it plays as a kind of gentlemanly thing, but what about emergencies?”

20. And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene - ~43,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian returns after a year of traveling and rejoins Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses. He's doing a good job of pining and ignoring the obvious. Look, at this point, it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm a sucker for stories where Wei Wuxian deals with his ~*~issues~*~ and Lan Zhan takes care of him, whether he asks for it or not. This story has lots of that. I also enjoyed the case fic aspect of it.

“I do, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Would be nice to see his face again after so long. And at least this time, I’m going to show up draped in finery. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I can’t possibly disgrace him—or you—wearing a cloak like that.”

“You could never disgrace me,” Lan Wangji says gently, that soft, affectionate look back on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins, warmed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll remind you of that later. The next time I’m three jars deep and feeling especially shameless, you’ll have to remember those words, Lan Er-gege.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian smiles some more, overwhelmed by fondness.

21. darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter - ~7,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian really, really wants Lan Zhan to call him 'gege'. Lan Zhan knows a trump card when he sees one.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

Lan Wangji knows he will not stop, regardless of what he calls him. Still, he thinks about it. If there really is a way to make Wei Wuxian stop, should he not consider it? He doesn’t have any real interest in curbing his husband’s insatiable mischievousness, but he does like knowing things about him—everything there is to know.

If there’s something that persuasive in the world, that it can bring Wei Wuxian into submission when no one is under threat, could he stop himself from seeking it?

22. your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian - ~11,000 words, gen - Wei Wuxian & Lan Sizhui fic with the Wangxian in the background. Lan Sizhui wants another dad and Wei Wuxian wants a son, they just don't know how to explain that to each other.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

Lan Sizhui tucks his chin into his uncle’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Wen Ning whispers to him kindly.

Lan Sizhui takes a deep breath, and takes stock of all his aches, his ringing ear, his hollow chest, the way he had selfishly wanted Wei Wuxian to keep speaking to him in that careful voice, like he was just a child to be soothed and there was no real danger. How dangerous, to pretend. “No,” he lies. “It doesn’t hurt that much at all.”

23. when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool - ~26,000 words, teen - AU where Lan Zhan with Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's one-month celebration. Things go down, and it leads to Lan Zhan discovering Wei Wuxian's missing golden core. This obviously will not do, and oh look, the best doctor in the world just happens to be right here.

“How—“ Lan Wangji chokes. “His core —?” He looks at Wen Ning, half accusatory in his shock. “Jin Zixun could not have—“

“No, no!” Wen Ning says, holding out his hands. “He hasn’t had one for years, don’t worry!”

This is not as reassuring as Wen Ning seems to think.

“Please explain,” Lan Wangji says, pained. He feels for Wei Wuxian’s pulse instead; in the absence of a golden core, it will have to do as reassurance that he’s still alive.

Wen Ning is so anxious that the story comes out in a ramble, out of order. Lan Wangji wants him to hurry up, but he’s also not confident in his own ability to speak, so he just keeps quiet and lets him talk. His heart feels as if it’s about to fall from his chest, beating nearly twice as fast as Wei Wuxian’s does under his fingers.

24. A Match in the Making by lareine - ~30,000 words, teen - A Modern AU where Wei Wuxian sees his single and bad ass friend Lan Zhan and his single and bad ass friend Mianmian and gets some very dumb ideas.

To return to the point: Lan Zhan was peak adulting. Mianmian was peak adulting. And if they were both at the peak, then they were on the same level. What level? That mysterious level thing that everyone mentioned when it came to dating.

Whatever level it was, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were on it together. Wei Ying nodded to himself. So, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were allowed to date each other. The next question was: were they compatible? Did they have chemistry or whatever the fuck people called it?

25. Crack me open, pour you out by Tenillypo - ~16,000 words, explicit - Lan Zhan gets cursed to say whatever he's thinking. So his worst nightmare. Mutual pining, first time, all good stuff.

Lan Wangji freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, lifting his eyes to stare at Wei Ying.

"I know! Just completely paralyzed." Wei Ying mimes being still as a board. "I don't know how long I lay there. It must have been two days at least. Good thing for Little Apple. He wandered back to the village when he got hungry, and eventually a few of them got brave enough to come look for me. When they rolled me over, the figure fell out of my hand and I could move again. Cunning little thing." He shakes his head. "I was weak as a kitten for a little while after they took me back to the village, and by the time I recovered, they'd burned the whole place to the ground. Such a waste."

Lan Wangji slowly lowers his chopsticks, heart racing unpleasantly. In his head, a picture of Wei Ying slowly wasting to death alone in the middle of the woods, with Lan Wangji a hundred miles away and none the wiser.

26. Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller - 13,000 words, no rating - Lan Zhan wants to bring his boyfriend home to meet his family. There are some things he definitely didn't realize about Wei Ying.

“He has a life here,” he says down the line. He doesn’t say that he has a life here too, one he likes a lot more than the one he had before. He misses home. He’d miss Wei Ying more. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t say how vibrant he is and how beautiful and how little interest Lan Zhan has at seeing him among the high society he grew up with.

“Well, your life is here, Wangji,” his brother says. “You can’t stay away from home forever. You’re going to have to see how he does with the rest of us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”

It might as well be never, as far as he’s concerned. His family can meet Wei Ying at their wedding.

“I’ll ask,” he says.

Wei Ying has no interest in cultivation politics. They’re horrible, the five clans have an iron tight alliance that’s thirty seconds away from collapsing in on itself the moment someone from one sect steps on another sect’s toes. It’s the worst and he hates it. Surely even just the idea of it will be so horrifying to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan will be able to tell his brother no.

27. just our hands clasped so tight by electrum ~4,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan really, really, really just wants to give Wei Ying everything he wants.

“Despite your best efforts,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He shakes his head in mock-dismay. “How much longer do you think that will last if you keep buying everything I look at?” When this, too, fails to soften Lan Zhan’s resolve, he tries a different tactic. “We couldn’t even afford potatoes,” he says. “Back when I was with the Wens, at the Burial Mounds. Only radishes! If I survived that, I can certainly survive without another pretty comb.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is at once unmoved and yet somehow stricken. “I would have bought Wei Ying potatoes,” he says, like Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, by this point, that Lan Zhan would buy him anything. “If I had known…”

28. ** Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller - ~64,000 words, no rating - Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian with Wangxian in the background. Jin Ling is the best boy! And as he tries to rehabilitate his sect and his family and keep himself alive at the same time, he realizes, horrifyingly, that he has to be the mature one.

29. ** an act too often neglected by Ariaste - Lan Xichen / Meng Yao, ~61,000 words, explicit - The Wangxian is in the background here, but the main story is about Lan Xichen meeting Meng Yao on a dating app and getting immediately dickmatized. Meanwhile. Meng Yao refuses to be won over by Lan Xichen's charm. It goes as well as you'd expect for him.

The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

Lan Xichen feels a low simmer of arousal kindle in the pit of his stomach, and he gazes at that word-- demanding --for nearly as long as he’d stared at the photograph. He swipes right.

A few minutes later, a notification pops up: < Hm, the size of your hands is promising.

This is familiar. This is the flirtation stage. Lan Xichen knows the steps to the dance.

30. My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit - ~30,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is cast out of his sect and out of China to America. And Lan Zhan just...follows.

Lan Zhan always waited for his tea to cool before drinking, which meant he had nothing to do but give Wei Wuxian a judgmental look. “No more McDonald’s.”

“You’re just bitter because you get indigestion from anything that actually tastes good,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

Because Lan Zhan was insufferably mature and patient, he didn’t rise to the bait. “We have time to stop somewhere before class,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re paying this time.”

It was a bad joke, and predictably, fell flat; Lan Zhan was, after all, paying for everything, every time. Wei Wuxian frowned into his mug.

“You know,” he said, after another swallow, “you really don’t have to be here. I’m going to figure something out.”

*

Interested in 86 more The Untamed fic recs?

Part 1 - 40 recs Part 2 - 23 recs Part 3 - 23 recs

#the untamed fic #the untamed #master of demonic cultivation #wangxian fic recs #wangxian fic #mdzs #lan xichen/jin guangyao #lan zhan #wei wuxian/lan wangji #wei wuxian #jin ling #lan sizhui #mxtx novels

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo imagines - Hostage Part 1

AN: I came up with this idea for a series in the shower and I hope you guys are as intrigued by it as I am. Also I’m aware it’s posted later than I said but I’m a perfectionist and couldn’t post it until I was happy with it!! To make up for it, I have some Laszlo Kreizler smut coming up soon for you Alienist fans. 

Summary: You were chosen as one of Karli’s elite. You became a super soldier to help your cause, make the world a better place but taking the serum came with a price. After being cornered one day, you’re taken by the famous Helmut Zemo to give him answers or face the consequences. 

In This Chapter: Introductions. You are sent on a mission for Karli, only for it to turn bad. 

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, Karli Morganthau x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 2,703

Warnings: Spoilers for TFATWS, violence, strong language 

You stared back at the burning building as the truck pulled away. 

Despite the rumbling of the thick tires on the tarmac beneath you, you could hear the screaming. 

“Hey.” DeeDee placed a hand on your shoulder and tugged you round. “Don’t look.” 

You could see in her eyes that she was just as shocked as you were but was trying to hide it.

The task had been to remove as many supplies as possible from the GRC depot to take back to the camps in Riga. There had been no mention of bombing the place. 

Lennox’s eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror. You were all thinking the same thing. 

Why would Karli go through with something that hadn’t even been discussed?

“Turn here. It’s faster.” DeeDee leant forward pointing towards a more narrow alley as fire engine sirens echoed up ahead. 

Lennox did as suggested and the others followed close behind. 

It wasn’t a long drive from Vilnius to Riga but you all stopped when daylight broke to take some time to eat something. 

You sat down beside Diego, your eyes flickering to Karli every few minutes as she dished out supplies for you all. 

She noticed. 

“(Y/n).” Karli remained standing as she handed out the last can to Dovich. 

You took the hint and rose to your feet. 

You followed her to the side of the abandoned structure as the others tried to tune the radio. 

“What’s the problem?” Karli asked you, a hard expression across her features.

“What’s the problem?” You couldn’t help but scoff at the question. “Karli, you blew up a building with people still tied up inside.” 

“I did what I had to do. It’s the only language these people understand. You saw just how much food, water and medicine they were sitting on. If we had a fraction of that just a few months ago Mama Donya might still be alive.” You could see the tears Karli was trying to suppress as she spoke of Mama Donya.

“You still should’ve consulted us before you went ahead with it. We’re better than an eye for an eye and you know that.” You cautiously took her hand into yours to try and comfort her. “We’re trying to make a difference here.”

“And that is how we do it.” She dropped your hand as she defended her actions. You shook your head but didn’t retaliate. You knew there was no use in arguing with her in that moment. 

“There’s something I need you to do after Mama Donya’s funeral today.” Karli was quick to change the topic. “A mission for you and DeeDee.” 

“What is it?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. 

“I need you to go to these coordinates immediately after the funeral. One of our allies will be expecting you both. He has information and something I need. It’ll be a parcel, small enough to conceal so you can make your way back to us without any suspicion.” Karli texted over the coordinates and the information on the contact. 

“How can you be sure it’s safe?” You asked as you studied his profile. 

“I wouldn’t send you if it wasn’t.” Karli paused before she wrapped her hand around the back of your neck and brought your forehead to hers. “We have to stick together now more than ever.” 

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. 

“One world.” You muttered. 

“One people.”Karli pulled away just as Dovich called over to you both. 

They had managed to get the radio to work. 

You sat down and opened a can of fruit slices to try and quench your hunger. 

“The depot that was bombed was funded and run by the GRC, the Global Repatriation Council. One of the workers killed was the father of two and had only been on the job for one week. After condemning this latest action by the radical group known as the Flag Smashers, the GRC formally began drafting legislation known as The Patch Act, which would seek to restore traditional border regulations and fast-track the return to normalcy. The act of violence has also brought attention and followers to the Flag Smasher cause. No one can deny the world-wide reach of this group is growing, as is the danger.”

You shared a look with Gigi and Dovich as you listened to the broadcast. Your stomach churned at the mention of the father. You swallowed hard as you placed your food down. 

Karli parted from the group again, feeling the pressure of the eyes on her, but you chose not to follow. 

You had known Karli for 3 years. You met in Riga and became close quickly. You both had lost everything and then you had each other. When she took off to Madripoor, you followed. She always knew how to get people to see things her way, she had a spark inside of her that drew in those who wanted to fight for something; she was powerful for 19. She only grew more powerful with the serums. 

You had backed her and supported her from the start but something was twisting. Something was going sour. You had never killed innocents before but in Karli’s eyes; was anyone on the side of the GRC innocent?

“Finish up. We need to get to the border in time to meet our contact.” Karli strode past the group and didn’t stop until she climbed into one of the cars. 

You cleaned up after yourselves, leaving no trace that you were there, before you got back on the road. 

You were back in Riga soon enough, your contact at the border let you through without any issues and you made it to the checkpoint with all the supplies safely. 

Fortunately, you still had time to spare before Donya’s funeral. 

You remained hidden, on the low, whilst Karli went with Nico to pick up the leftover serums. 

You had previously spoken about creating more super soldiers. You had been against it. There were more than enough of you for the moment and the process of turning into one was beyond any pain you’d ever felt. You didn’t think more people needed to go through that. However, the vote passed and more were to be created. 

“You ready?” Karli asked you as she returned. You nodded. 

You headed to the secret location of Mama Donya’s funeral and fell into the crowd as the body came into sight. Mama Donya had been important to Karli and therefore important to you. She had been a kind woman. Kind to you. But Karli had a bond with her that you didn’t. This was Karli’s time to heal, to grieve, to help those who also relied on Donya. 

You watched Karli step up to say a few words. 

“I don’t remember my mother or my father. Same goes for siblings, grandparents, cousins. What I do remember is being alone. Worse than being hungry or cold or scared. I was alone. Until Mama Donya. Like a lot of you here, Mama Donya saved me. She clothed me, fed me, loved me.” You followed Karli’s eye line when she gasped softly. 

It was Sam Wilson. Avenger. 

You felt your blood go cold. Usually where there was one avenger, there were sure to be more. 

“She taught me that we have to do for each other because they won’t. And we know who they are. They imposed struggle and hardship on us, then labeled us as criminals for pushing back. But the struggle is what brings us all together. People who have nothin’ in common. For we are, after all, simply one world and one people. So live accordingly.”

As you stepped forward and placed your bouquet of flowers down beside Donya, Karli clasped hold on your wrist. 

“Go now.” She whispered under her breath. 

“What about you?” You asked. 

“I’ll be fine. Get to the contact.” Karli tried to assure you but you weren’t certain on leaving her. Dovich guided you away to stop you from arguing with Karli about it. He told you that he was going to stay behind to help Karli and that you had a more important job to do right now. 

You had to give in and leave. 

As you made your exit, you grabbed DeeDee and the keys to the motorbike outside. 

“We gotta make a detour. Make sure we aren’t being followed.” You announced as you climbed onto the motorbike. 

“Karli said our guy would wait for us so it’s better to be safe than sorry. We can’t mess this up.” DeeDee agreed with you as she placed herself behind you. 

You took off down the street and did your best to lose any tails. 

You ended up ditching the bike and moving underground once you were sure you were alone. 

You were either really lucky or they had only brought enough backup to deal with Karli. 

“We should be close.” You checked your phone to read the GPS before placing on your mask. 

DeeDee held the flashlight up as you worked your way through the empty tunnel. 

“You’d think Karli could organise a rendezvous point somewhere a little less musty.” DeeDee grimaced as a trio of rats scattered past you both. 

“This is the safest way. We may have gained a lot of supporters above ground but we have a lot of enemies too.” You tried to defend Karli’s choice but even you had to admit that the sewers were a low point for you all. 

“You think she got away okay?” DeeDee asked, the concern obvious in her voice despite her blank expression. 

“I think Karli’s smart and she wouldn’t stick around if she knew she couldn’t win.” You may have been anxious for her but you rarely had doubts with Karli. Even without the serum she always managed to slip through the cracks. 

As you continued to make your way through the tunnels, you spotted a silhouette up ahead. 

You narrowed your eyes as DeeDee shone her light on him. 

Fortautely, it was your contact.

“Greetings.” The man smiled widely at you both. He wore a bright head torch that stopped you from looking him in the eye and a large forest green coat. 

“We’re here to collect the parcel and information for Karli.” DeeDee informed him, shading her eyes from his light as she tried to lift her gaze. 

“Yes. Yes. I know.” The short man pulled out a small object wrapped in brown paper from under his coat. “Karli said you would be coming.” 

As the man spoke, you heard something splash in the water behind you. 

“What was that?” You asked, looking back to see if you could spot anything. 

“It was probably just one of the rats.” DeeDee tried to assure you but the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up. 

You had a bad feeling about it. 

“I’m going to check it out.” You whispered to her. “Better safe than sorry.” You repeated what she had said earlier. 

“Be careful.” DeeDee handed you her flashlight before letting you go. 

You crept back round the corner from whence you had came. You remained close to the wall to avoid any oncoming intruders head on. Peering down into the water, you saw that it had been in fact just a rat that was now paddling through the sewage. 

“It's okay.” You relaxed, shouting ahead so they could hear you. “It was just a ra–––” You were cut short by a gloved hand covering your mouth. 

You sent your elbow backwards instinctively which threw your attacker into the wall. 

You spun around to see a figure dressed in a lavish coat with a purple mask covering his face. You furrowed your eyebrows at his appearance. You didn’t recognise him as an Avenger. 

He came towards you, sending a fist to the side of your head. You managed to block his attack, kicking him in the chest. 

You thought he’d be no match for you with your enhanced powers but he managed to put up a good fight. 

He wrestled with you against the wall as he gained the advantage. You resorted in head butting him to get him off you. 

You sent your leg up into his side but he wrapped his arm around your calf and yanked you forward. You lost your balance as he grip moved, hooking under your knee. He squeezed your thigh against him as he pulled out a rather large syringe. 

“DEE! RUN!” You managed to howl before the needle sunk into your thigh. 

You tried to fight again as he dropped your leg but your vision became patchy and your balance began to sway. 

Not to your knowledge, he had injected as much tranquilliser into you as one would a tiger. Your enhanced abilities wouldn’t help you with that, you were soon out cold. 

--

The stars shone above you as you and Karli laid back on the bonnet of the car. 

“I genuinely believe that you could be the one to change things, Karl.” You said as you munched down on the chocolate bar she had gifted you. 

“What are you on about?” Karli furrowed her eyebrows through her smile as she turned her head to face you. 

“I mean look what you did for my birthday, just using your powers of persuasion.” You smirked.

“Persuasion isn’t enough to change things.” Karli disagreed. 

“You’re right but right now, people need someone to look up to. Half the world is gone and hope isn’t something that's easy to come by anymore.” You stated. 

“And you think that person could be me?” Karli scoffed at the idea. 

“I think you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it.” You broke off a piece of chocolate and handed it to her. 

“I think you’re spending too much time around Mama Donya.” Karli took the chocolate and popped it in her mouth. 

“We’ll see who’s right one day.” You mused with a small smile. Karli rolled her eyes before trying to steal another piece. “Hey! It’s my birthday present!” 

--

When your eyes finally opened, you realised you were no longer in the sewers. 

You were standing but your hands were up above your head, chained to the wall behind you and a large metal strip was around your neck also. You desperately tried to search your surroundings through your mask but the restraints stopped you from moving much. 

The room was dark, no windows, a few dim lights dotted around caused the room to seem almost a brown colour and there was little furniture. 

You would’ve been a fool if you didn’t noticed the gun on a small table off to the side as well as the medical equipment glistening on a tall metal cart. 

Your head throbbed and your mouth held the metallic taste of blood. You tugged at your wrist restraints to test their strength and to your luck they were holding. 

“You’re awake.” You heard a thick accented voice when you stopped rattling your chains. “Good.” 

The possessor of the voice, your kidnapper, stepped into light and you clocked who it was immediately. 

It was Baron Helmut Zemo. 

Zemo could not see your face as he had left the mask on you but he could tell from your eyes that you knew who he was. 

“I bet you are wondering why you are here. Tied up in this basement.” Zemo started. “Let’s start with introductions, shall we?” 

You remained silent.

“My name is Helmut Zemo––”

“––I know who you are.” You retorted. 

“Then you know what I am capable of.” Zemo glared at you for the interruption. His hands finding his pockets as his eyes settled on your own. 

“I know you’re going to kill me.” You knew of what happened with the Avengers. You knew of Siberia and the destroyed soldiers. You knew of his hate. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” Zemo wagged his finger at you. “Not yet at least. No. We have a few things I’d like to discuss first.”

“Like what?” You scowled at the man. 

“Like the whereabouts of Karli Morgenthau.” 

(PART 2 HERE)

Taglist  

@cathrin2405 @serenityfirefly97​ @shannon-posts​ @dxnxdjarxn​ @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle​ @trelaney​  @sierrabaltzer​  @daydreamer-in-training​ @e-barba​ @ornella0910​ @natty13 @bry-97​ @cherieweasley​ @kermuddgen @madelyn-barnes @jaxcliffaconda​ @candicerace​ @mo320 @takacsgram @hiccup005 

#Zemo #Zemo x reader #zemo imagines #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagines #helmut zemo #baron zemo imagines #baron zemo #Baron Zemo x reader #civil war #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier imagines #daniel bruhl x reader #Daniel Bruhl #Daniel bruhl imagines #daniel brühl #Bucky Barnes #karli morgenthau #Karli Morgenthau imagines #Sam Wilson

[ragingbookdragon]

Tonight You're Gonna Go Down In Flames, Just Like Jesse James

A Jason Todd x Reader Story

Word Count: 7.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Mentions of Blood and Violence

Author's Note: This is the series I did a week or so ago. I figured I'd combine it into one big document so no one had to go searching for all the parts. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was a horrible idea in the first place and yet, of all the bad decisions she’d made in her entire life, this one apparently was going to take first place. Of course, part of her told her to just chuck her feelings into the back of her mind and leave them there, but the longer she spent around him, the stronger they got. And regardless of how terrible her love life was—and to be completely honest, it was horrible—she was going to admit her feelings and accept whatever outcome came. What’s the worst he could say? No? No, she didn’t think he’d say that. He flirted with her all the time, called her doll, and complimented her on her reading habits—no one had ever done that.

***

She shifted the red roses into the crook of her elbow, free hand nervously smoothing down her pink sundress, discomfort running up and down her spine as she waited on the front porch of the imposing manor. She’d gone to his apartment earlier but after he hadn’t answered, she remembered that he’d once mentioned the manor as a secondary hangout, prompting her to go there after.

Inhaling sharply, she quickly took the flowers back into her hand when the door opened, and she smiled widely at the older man who stood before her. “Hello, you must be Mister Pennyworth.” she greeted warmly. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), a friend of Jason’s. Is he here?” she raised the flowers and the gift box in her hand. “I’ve got something for him.”

The man smiled and stepped aside, letting her in. “Of course, Miss (Y/N), please allow me to fetch Master Jason.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me—and he’s already gone,” she whispered. “Wow, he moves fast for an old man.” Her eyes drifted to the portrait above the hall table and she smiled at the faces of him and his brothers. They looked rather regal for the humorous stories he told her all the time. Footsteps drew her attention away and she turned, smiling at Jason as he walked towards her. He wore a surprised smile, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he asked and when she opened her mouth all she managed was a dumb, ‘uh…’ then she shoved the flowers in his face.

“These are for you.” She replied, face heating up as his fingers brushed hers when he took them.

Jason brought the bouquet of roses to his nose and inhaled. “Wow, they’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He gave her that smile that had her stomach fluttering. “Thank you.”

She nodded and held the gift box up too, no longer than about nine inches and about eight wide. “This is for you too.”

“Thank you,” he said, tucking the flowers into his elbow while he unwound the twine rope and opened the box top. He shifted away the tissue paper and pulled out a small book, about the size of his hand and his eyes went wide. “Is this—”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah! You mentioned that you wanted a pocket booklet of Emily Dickinson’s poems…so I went scrounging some old bookstores and found one.” She smiled bashfully. “For you.”

He huffed a laugh of disbelief and pulled her in for a quick hug. She tried not to pass out in his arms as he breathed in her ear, “Thank you, (Y/N). Really, thank you, so much.”

“It was no big deal,” she brushed off, pulling away from him and he shook his head.

“Well, it is to me,” he retorted with a grin, then gestured to her. “But I don’t understand, what brought this on?” he nudged her in the side humorously quipping, “I didn’t forget a gift exchange, did I?”

(Y/N) laughed. “No, no you didn’t, it’s just…” she trailed off, falling quiet.

“It’s just…” he repeated, tone and eyes ever curious, and she swallowed thickly.

It’s now or never, (Y/N). Just tell him how you feel.

She motioned to the book. “Well…they say it’s easier to relay feelings when you give gifts.” Smiling, she confessed, “Jason, I…have feelings for you. Really, really strong feelings.” He went slack jawed, and though she felt a pang of embarrassment, she kept speaking. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out on a date with me tonight? There’s this really nice café uptown that has good soups…or maybe we could go to a bar and get a beer together?”

Clearing her throat, she added, with a flustered smile, “Whatever you wanna do of course. I’d be happy as long as you’re with me.”

He was silent. Jason was completely silent, and she wasn’t sure what was worse, his silence or the shock etched across his face, but she kept hoping for the best. That was until he said her name. And the tone he used…she knew instantly what was coming and all she wanted to do was shove her hand against his mouth and tell him to forget she ever said anything.

“(Y/N)…” he started sympathetically, recovering rather slowly. “I’m flattered,” he admitted, raising the flowers and book in his hands. “For the gifts, really I am…but…” Jason shook his head and gave her a pitied smile. “But I don’t feel the same way that you do…and I am sorry.”

For a moment she couldn’t remember how to breathe, simply gazing at the man she’d been friends with for the past seven months and trying to figure out how she interpreted every moment so horribly wrong. All the kind words and hugs. All the smiles and laughter. All of it.

“(Y/N)?” Jason worried. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, suddenly feeling a flush of coldness ebbing out through her stomach and down her limbs; she nodded, pursing her lips. “Yeah—I’m okay.” (Y/N) cleared her throat and pointed back towards the door. “I’m…I’m gonna go…”

She hadn’t even gotten a foot away when he caught the sleeve of her pink sweater and stopped her. “(Y/N), I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you like this.”

Sucking up all the embarrassment and heartbreak back in, she turned and let out a ‘pfft’, waving her hand as she lied, “What? No! I totally get it, Jason. Absolutely.”

He seemed unconvinced and she hated how he always knew something was off about her at every moment. “Are you sure?”

(Y/N) couldn’t fight the wobble in her lip as she nodded. “Mhm. Completely.” She tugged out of his grasp. “But I totally remembered that I have a thing to do. A very important thing not here.” She gestured to the door. “So I should go. Like now.”

This time, she didn’t wait when he called out to her and she yanked open the door and closed it behind her as fast as she could, hurrying down the steps to her car.

She climbed in, immediately gripped the steering wheel and pressed her forehead to the top of it, eyes starting to water as she tried to get her breathing under control. Her fingers fumbled with the keys and after the fourth missing of the ignition, she burst into tears and dropped her keys. Her lips wobbled and her sight was blinded as she reached for her keys in the floorboard and when she got them, she shoved them into the slot and twisted, barely hearing the engine roaring to life.

Wiping a hand across her face, she could’ve cared less about the makeup smearing across her skin and she put the car into drive, hoping that with every foot of distance she put between her car and the manor, she could leave a broken heart behind.

Because what was the worst thing he could’ve said?

No?

That was exactly it.

***Part Two***

Of all the bad decisions she’d ever made, this was probably the worst, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and ride out every emotion that was coming onto her like a maelstrom. Every bad date, every failed notion of love just kept washing over her, but this one seemed like the nail in the coffin. She drove aimlessly for hours before she realized it was seven o’clock; a quick stop at her apartment and she fed her cat, also wiping the makeup and tear tracks off her skin before she wandered on foot with the direction of anywhere and nowhere.

***

Collapsing onto one of the benches that sat at the pier of Gotham Bay, she sighed heavily and gazed out at the water. It was calm compared to the storm inside and she propped her elbow on the railing, fist against her cheek, sighing again.

There was no way she could go to work and act like everything was okay. Kelly-Anne was going to drill her all about her “date” and she didn’t even go on one. She groaned. I never should’ve told her that I was going to ask Jason out. That’s going to be more embarrassing than being rejected by him. Another groan escaped her and she bent forward, burying her face in the floral dress pattern. I even wore a stupid dress and heels. Going slack, she let her feelings wash over her.

Something grabbed her shoulder. “Hey.”

“AHHHHH!” She yanked away, shooting up to see one of the masked vigilantes of Gotham city before her.

“Woah, woah!” they calmed, hands outstretched non-threateningly. “I’m not gonna hurt you!”

She pressed a hand to her chest and let out a sigh of relief, reclining on the bench as she heaved, “Oh my God, I thought—I don’t know what I thought you were.” A flighty laugh passed her lips. “You scared the hell out of me, Nightwing.”

He smiled and laughed. “Sorry. I saw you over here and thought I was going to find a new reason to call GCPD.”

“No, no,” she affirmed. “Just…dealing with things.”

Taking a seat beside her, he crossed his ankles and leaned back on the bench. “By groaning beside Gotham Bay at nine o’clock?”

She shot him a heat-less glare. “It was that or drown myself in cheap wine and Lewis Capaldi.”

He seemed to know what she was talking about, surmising, “Heartache?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she muttered, lolling her head back on the bench, trying to ignore his steady gaze.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” She grinned. “What’s yours?”

Nightwing chuckled. “Afraid I can’t give that out or I’ll be in with the Big-Bat.” She giggled and he followed with, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

(Y/N) pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nah…you’ve got better things to do than help a girl nurse a broken heart.”

“Sometimes the better thing to do is talk with someone.” When she met his eyes, he smiled wholeheartedly. “Try me. I’m a good listener.”

Something ached in her chest and after a moment of staring at him, she swallowed thickly and sighed. “There’s this guy I’ve been friends with for a few months now. And he’s really kind and intelligent and super good looking and I—” she shrugged. “I fell in love with him. I mean, it was hard not too with how amazing of a man he is.”

Nightwing nodded. “What’s his name?”

“Jason Todd,” she said, and she couldn’t help the smile that came across her lips. “One of the first times we were hanging out, I told him that his first name meant healer in Greek…but he didn’t seem too keen on that definition.”

“How come?” he inquired, and she shrugged again.

“I don’t really know…Jason’s never been all that open about his past.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I think some bad things happened to him when he was younger and he just…doesn’t let people in easily.” She managed a smile. “I feel like all the times he did tell me about his life, it made me feel special, you know? Knowing he trusted me enough to tell me.”

“You really seem to love him,” Nightwing noted and she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in her eyes.

“I do…Jason’s the first guy that’s ever seen me for me.” (Y/N) pursed her lips. “I’m weird. I work in a library and books are my life and I can talk your ear off about how Raymond Carver single-handedly saved the short story genre.” she sighed. “And I’ve always been the nerdy girl in the friend groups who watched everyone else fall in love while she pined from a distance.” She huffed a pitiful laugh that made even his heart tighten. “I mean, I even went to prom alone.”

Her eyes found his. “But Jason made me feel special. He listened and didn’t get upset when I apologized for talking so much. He just smiled and asked me to keep going.” (Y/N) wiped at her eyes. “I thought that we were getting closer, but God I saw all the signs of him being a good friend as romantic.” She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “And it’s so embarrassing to admit that I’m so starved of love that I saw them as loving gestures.” Another groan escaped her. “And then I asked him out today and got rejected.”

He blinked in shock, wondering why his brother would let this girl go. Obviously, they were perfect for each other. He didn’t tell her that though, instead asking, “What happened?”

(Y/N) moaned. “I showed up at his house with flowers and a book he’d been talking about.” She smushed her cheeks and glared out at the water. “And he was really nice about letting me down easy and I wish I could be upset about that, but I can’t because he was respectful.”

She sat back up on the bench and they both gazed at the stars. “Please tell me that even cute superheroes like you have romantic problems.”

Nightwing chuckled and nodded. “Oh, you’d be totally surprised.”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) giggled and he hummed.

“Two of my exes are super-heroines and they’re really good friends.”

She blinked at him. “Okay, yeah, you win, Nightwing.”

He chuckled and turned his neck, falling silent a moment to gaze at her. “…It does get better, (Y/N).”

Her lips pursed. “I know…I just have to wait it out.” She stared into his eyes. “But I don’t think anyone will ever be as great as Jason is.” Her eyes fell to the water and she sighed, “Is it too much to ask though…that I find someone to hold my hand and love me?”

Nightwing took her hand and laced their fingers. “I can’t do the second thing, but I can do the first for a while…if you want?”

(Y/N)’s eyes watered, and she squeezed his hand. “Yeah…I’d like that.” She propped her head on his shoulder, feeling his cheek press against the top of her head.

“Tell me what your favorite poem is, (Y/N).”

“I’ll bore you to death, Nightwing. And I apologize…a lot.”

“Someone tell you that no one cares when you were younger?”

“More than I’m comfortable admitting,” she sniffed. “From a lot of people I respected too.”

Nightwing hummed. “Well…I’m not them. And I care about what your favorite poem is.” He thumbed the back of her hand. “Please tell me.”

She sighed heavily and murmured, “I will hold you with harbor arms. The lighthouse finding a ship against the lonely sea. A shelter as your legs give out under torrential rain. What I’m trying to tell you is, you are safe here.”

He was silent for a minute, then he whispered, “That’s beautiful, (Y/N).”

“I think about it a lot…about it and Jason,” she replied quietly. “I think he’s afraid of love—of loving someone. I’d give anything to let him know that I’m not afraid of whatever skeletons he’s got in his closet…that…that I’m not afraid of him or what he’s afraid he is.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she turned her head, quietly sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I shouldn’t be—I shouldn’t—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, pulling his hand away from hers to curl around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “Let it out. I’m not here to judge you.” He wrapped his other arm around her, resting his chin on her head. “Let it all go, (Y/N).”

And she did. Every rejection throughout her life, from elementary school to high school to every college bar, she let out. Every “You’re not my type” and “I don’t date X girls” she let go of with every heart wrenching sob that tore her throat.

***

She didn’t know how long she cried, but when she was gone, Nightwing’s shoulder was completely soaked and (Y/N) had a raging headache to go with her heartache.

“Feel better?” he questioned when her sobs had subsided into sniffles every minute or two.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “A lot.”

Nightwing smiled. “Sometimes a good cry is all we need.”

“Mhm,” she agreed. “It’s cathartic.”

“Alright, Aristotle,” he chuckled and to her surprise, she found herself laughing. “And there’s the smile!” he cheered, letting her pull away to wipe her face.

“Sorry for boohooing on your shoulder,” (Y/N) apologized and he merely shook his head.

“Nah, don’t mention it.” He brushed off. “I hope someone like you would do the same for me if I needed it.”

She giggled. “Then we’ll meet here when we need good cries, huh, Nightwing?”

He held out his hand, watching her shake it. “Sounds like a good plan, (Y/N).” A siren went off in the distance and his face shifted instantaneously as he rose to his feet. “Rain check on the cry days.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, go save the city.” As he started off, she called out, “Nightwing!”

He spun just for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Anytime, (Y/N),” he winked and turned, sprinting off.

“Be careful!” she yelled and laughed when he waved a hand in the distance.

***Part Three***

She balanced the tin of cupcakes in one hand and opened the door with the other, already more than nervous as she stepped into GCPD. Some of the officers smiled and nodded at her while others merely watched as she walked up to the desk and cleared her throat.

“Excuse me,” she interrupted. “Is Commissioner Gordon here? I’d like to speak with him.”

The man’s eyes went from the cupcake tin to her face and he asked. “Can I ask what for?”

“Oh, yes, I just need to speak with him about something…involving Batman’s, uh…helpers?” she winced. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

He cocked a brow, but shrugged and grabbed the phone, pushing a button. “Sir, you’ve got someone here to see you…no sir, she just said it dealt with Batman and the others…understood sir.” He hung the phone up. “He’ll over soon.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, and waited for the detective to arrive. When he did, she held her hand out, “Commissioner Gordon?”

He shook her hand. “Good evening, young lady. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m (Y/N) and um…it’s a bit complicated actually.”

“We live in a city with men and women who dress up in costumes and fight insane clowns.” He snorted. “We do complicated around here.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and nodded. “That’s fair, Commissioner Gordon.” She raised the tray of cupcakes in her hand. “This is going to be really weird, but I was wondering if I could use the spotlight to…call one of them.”

Gordon’s eyes drifted from the cupcakes to her, then back to the desserts. “You wanna use the Bat-Signal to get one of them…so you can give them cupcakes?”

Her mouth opened and closed, then she admitted, “Okay, that sounded a lot better in my head.” She sighed. “It’s not crazy, I swear but—”

“Why don’t you follow me to my office, and we can talk about this, hmm?” he asked, and she nodded.

“That sounds great, sir.” She followed close behind him to a closed-off room and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, waiting for him to sit in his chair.

“So,” he started when he sat down. “Start from the beginning of why you wanna give Batman cupcakes.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and she murmured, “Nightwing. I want to give them to Nightwing, actually.” He cocked a brow but said nothing and she cleared her throat. “So, the other week, Nightwing helped me out with something and to repay the debt, I made these.”

“What’d he help you with?” Gordon questioned and she played with the hem of her sweater.

“Uh, he…he, um, helped me with a um…a really embarrassing rejection.” She waved her hand. “And I sobbed like a baby on his shoulder and I just wanna give him these in return and tell him sorry for taking up his valuable time.” (Y/N)’s cheeks felt like they were on fire and she begged, “Please let me use the signal to call and I’ll leave. Promise, sir.”

Gordon watched her for a moment then he chuckled and rose from his desk. “I’ve been doing this for about forty years, and nothing has ever been this funny in my entire life.” She sighed, thinking a ‘no’ was coming and he stood beside her. “Come with me to the elevator and we’ll go up.”

(Y/N) blinked in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re going to let me?”

“Of all the things I’ve ever had someone come in and ask for? Delivering cupcakes is a new one. And I pride myself on getting the new ones.” He smiled. “Come on.”

Not wanting to blow her chance, she hurried after him with a big smile on her face and soon she was standing next to the giant spotlight, watching it silhouette against the night sky. She waited for a moment, then asked, “So how long does this usually take?”

He grunted. “Takes longer when you ask how long it takes.”

“That makes sense,” she laughed, and someone cleared their throat behind them. Both her and Gordon startled, though his reaction was less noticeable than hers, whereas she jumped a foot in the air.

“Red Hood,” Gordon greeted, holding out a hand to shake. “Good to see you, son.”

“Good to see you as well, Commissioner Gordon.” Red Hood replied. “Big-Bat in charge sent me here to see what was going on. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, motioning to (Y/N). “You’ve got a visitor.”

The vigilante turned to her as if finally noticing her presence and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) held out the cupcake tin to him. “I was wondering if you could give these to Nightwing.”

Red Hood glanced down at the cupcakes. “Why’d you make cupcakes for that jerk-off?”

She was shocked to hear such an insult and she bit out, “Well maybe because I wanted to, jerk-off.” He was probably scowling at her from behind that mask, but she wasn’t going to back down. “Nightwing did me a favor last week and I always repay my debts.” (Y/N) held out the tin again. “Will you please give these to him and tell him thank you for his pep-talk?”

Red Hood took the tin from her, asking quietly, “What’d he help you with?”

“Oh my God, why does everyone wanna know?” she griped, then exhaled through her nose. “Fine, I got rejected by a guy I’m in love with, and I boohooed like a baby on a park bench with Nightwing holding my hand like a parent to a child and being super sympathetic.” (Y/N) glared, though she appeared flustered. “Are you happy now, Red Hood?”

“Be a lot happier if you weren’t giving my brother cupcakes,” he muttered under his breath and looked at her. “Do you want the Tupperware back?”

She nodded. “Just tell him that I’ll be back at the bench on Friday this week to pick it up. Same time as the other week.”

“I’ll tell him,” Red Hood said with a rather annoyed tone and started back towards the other side of the building.

“Red Hood!” she called out and he paused, glancing back at her. “Look…I know you’re busy with other things. So…thank you for doing this. Really, I appreciate it.”

He shook his head, murmuring softly, “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” And he was gone.

Gordon walked over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Miss (Y/N)? Are you alright?”

She blinked and nodded, though she felt a great deal of confusion as she said, “He knew my name?”

***

Jason watched his brothers dig into the cupcakes, groaning about how good they were. He didn’t even need to eat the one he had in his hand because he knew. He knew she made the best baked goods he’d ever had, especially these ones which were her specialty. Double Dutch Chocolate Cupcakes with little pink, shimmering pearls. She put them on because she thought they were cute.

He glanced down at the cupcake in his hands, asking, “How do you know, (Y/N), Dick?”

The eldest brother paused mid-chew and stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. “Huh?”

“Cupcakes,” Jason said, gesturing to them. “She made them as a thanks to you. For last week.” He looked at his brother. “What for?”

Dick swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and nonchalantly replied, “Oh, nothing big. Just being friendly.” He shrugged. “How do you know her?”

Jason scowled. “Don’t do that shit. We both know how I know her.”

“Oh, right! The rejection after the flowers and book!” Dick exclaimed, taking another bite. “So, why’d you say no anyway? She seems like great girl.”

“She is,” he agreed. “The greatest.”

Tim elbowed Dick in the ribs, murmuring, “Is this Jason admitting he’s in love?”

“I don’t know,” Dick replied. “Jaybird, if you’re this pissed at me—”

“I’m not pissed,” he retorted, very much so pissed. “I just don’t want her getting involved with this.”

Dick’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “So that’s why you rejected her. You’re afraid of letting her know about everything.” He hummed knowingly. “See, she said that was probably it. That you’re scared.”

“What?” Jason’s eyes widened. “What’d she say to you?” He handed his younger brother a thumb drive. “What’s this?”

“Recording of the conversation I had with her last Friday,” he replied. “I was planning on giving it to you later tonight.” Dick laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder and murmured, “She’s not going to run away if you’re vulnerable with her Jason.” He nodded to the flash drive. “She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for.” Dick patted his shoulder and took the cupcake from Jason’s other hand, biting into it. “Oh my God,” he groaned, walking off. “What does she put in these things? They’re addicting.”

***

I’m not afraid of him or what he’s afraid he is.

Jason put his forehead on the desk and stared at the floor, not really sure what was tightening worse, his chest or his throat, but something in the mix started hurting and he let out a shaky breath, vision blurring and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Rejecting her affections meant she forgot about him. She forgot that he existed, and she stayed safe. She stayed alive. Jason wanted that. He wanted (Y/N) to grow old with someone and have a family, not die an early death at the hands of some crazed villain or worse, a failure of his saving.

He let out a low groan and rubbed his forehead against the desk, wishing that it would solve all his problems. Mostly the ones in his broken heart. They had texted each other and video called constantly. Usually meeting up once a week to hang out somewhere or go get dinner. His entire life had changed in one conversation, and the only thing he regretted more than telling her he didn’t feel the same way and making her cry was watching her lie that she hadn’t been bothered when he knew deep down that her heart was shattered. He knew it because he watched her breakdown in her car through the manor window before she pulled out of the driveway.

Maybe Dick was right though…and that thought made him wanna vomit because younger-brother syndrome was a real thing and listening to your older brother wasn’t fun. But if she were that honest with Nightwing, that real with him, then maybe he could tell her the truth. All of it. About everything he was hiding from her. His past and most importantly his feelings for her. Maybe he could really keep her safe if he did.

Maybe Jason could be the one she grew old with. The one who held her hand and loved her.

***Part Four***

“I don’t wanna die,” she whimpered, grasping at his wrists that were digging into her side. “Please, I don’t wanna die now.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she let out a sob. “I don’t wanna die.”

He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. “You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I’m not going to let you die here.”

Her eyes found his behind the domino mask and she whimpered again. “I’m scared, Red Hood.”

“I’m going to save you. I swear I will.” He ignored the blood that had smeared across her cheek and pressed his hand back to her bleeding abdomen, tears of his own gathering in his vision as he whispered, “I won’t lose you too.”

***

She couldn’t help but look to her wristwatch again, just to make sure she hadn’t been late. Of course, she’d gotten there fifteen minutes early, but still—time was a funny thing and sometimes she found herself late to things even if she’d arrived early. She should’ve just told Red Hood to let Nightwing keep the Tupperware, but that thing was like forty dollars and it was her favorite cupcake tin—she wasn’t letting that go.

Footsteps sounded through the traffic from her right and she looked up, smile faltering just slightly when she saw Red Hood coming her way instead of Nightwing. “Hey Red Hood!” she greeted with a tad of confusion and he waved.

“Hey (Y/N).” he raised the tin. “Sorry for being the one to drop this off but Nightwing was…busy.”

She snorted. “Don’t worry about it. Did he like—”

Red Hood dropped the tin, breaking into a sprint towards her. “(Y/N)! BEHIND YOU!”

“What?” (Y/N) spun and gasped when she came face to face with two masked men. “Oh fu—UHN!” one of them sunk their fist into her stomach and she bent over with a gag, knees going out below her as they grabbed her by her arms and yanked her forward.

She heard him screaming for her as they dragged her to the side of the road and shoved her into the back of a van. (Y/N) tried kicking at them but one of them picked something up and hit her across the head and the last thing she saw before everything went dark was Red Hood fading from view as the doors shut.

***

The tires screeched on the van as it hauled off and Jason had barely managed to grab the back handle as it did. He gripped the sides of his hood and cursed sharply, heart already beating wildly as he panted. “Fuck!” he screamed. “Motherfucker!”

He spun around, mind hopping from place to place as if he couldn’t figure out what to do first, and he punched a button on the side of his hood. “Nightwing, do you read me?” The line crackled a moment. “Nightwing! Come in!”

Jesus, I heard you the first time, Hood. What’s wrong? Break a nail?

“Dick,” he whispered. “It’s—it’s (Y/N).”

Something in Jason’s voice told him all he needed to know. What do you need me to do?

He turned in the direction that the van sped off in. “Two masked thugs grabbed her and took off with her in a van.”

License plate and van description?

“I31-FL4. White Chevy van, tinted windows.”

Alright, I’m away from a computer right now, but let me get Tim on the line. Another crackle. Hey Red, you busy?

At the moment. Why?

I need you to run a license plate for me on a white Chevy van.

Mmm, can it wait? I’m in the—oh shit—middle of something right now.

Tim, it’s urgent. (Y/N)’s been grabbed.

Number?

I31-FL4.

Your van just clocked four traffic cameras heading over the bridge past Chinatown into Founders and off to north of Port Adams. Scans are telling me that Cobblepot’s manor is that way.

“Cobblepot?” Jason repeated. “What the hell is he—” his sighed. “Shit, Dick, one of Penguin’s thugs probably saw you and (Y/N) the other night.”

And Penguin’s assumed that she knows who I am. Ugh, times like these I wish I hadn’t busted his gun running from Blüdhaven. Jason, I’m on my way.

Do you need backup, Hood? I’m about twenty out from your position.

“Don’t worry about it, Red.” He assured. “Nightwing and I got this.” Jason started towards the other side of the street, already pulling out his grapple. “You stay on whatever it is you’re doing.”

Aw man. But rescue missions are so fun.

“Tim. Fuck over the line and get off.”

***

Cold water splashed across her skin and she gasped, startling awake with violent shivers. Immediately she tried to get away but found herself bound to a chair; eyes searching wildly until they came to rest on the short and fat man walking towards her, wearing an eyeglass and smoking a cigar.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He greeted. “Sleep well?”

Swallowing thickly, her eyes darted to the various armed thugs around her and she murmured, “What do you want with me, Mister Cobblepot?”

“Mister Cobblepot?” he cackled. “So polite.” He got in her face. “I want something you have.”

Her eyes found his. “I’m willing to part with whatever you need in return for my life.”

“I want Nightwing’s name,” Penguin said, and she blinked at him.

“Come again?”

His hand split across her face and she cried out in pain. “I don’t want to be drug around. His name. Now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know Nightwing’s name.”

“Really?” he asked, then held out a hand and she watched someone put a phone in it and he shoved it in her face. “So that ain’t you sobbing on his shoulder like a whore with a heartache?”

Her eyes followed the picture and even from a distance, her and Nightwing’s faces could be seen, as well as their conjoined hands. “Okay,” she started. “I see what that looks like, but it’s not what it is. I swear.” Laughter echoed through the warehouse and she squirmed in her binds.

Penguin gazed at her for a moment, then he cracked his hand back across her face once more, and this time, he busted her lip. “I want his name.”

“I don’t know his name!” she spat the blood out of her mouth. “I was having a moment of weakness and he comforted me like a good person does. That’s it. He didn’t tell me his name.”

“I don’t believe you.” He hissed and she rolled her eyes.

“Look, it’s not my prerogative what you believe but that’s the truth. I don’t know who Nightwing is. Believe me, I asked, and he said he couldn’t tell me.” She leaned forward. “Hit me all you want but I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

He shrugged. “Works for me.” And he punched her in the jaw, grinning proudly when her head lolled forward and she let out a low groan. “Who is he?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” She hissed through clenched teeth and he waved a hand.

“Someone bring me a knife. Maybe she’ll think better if she’s flowing.”

Her eyes widened and she started thrashing. “Okay! Wait! Let’s not be hasty!”

Penguin flicked open the knife and pointed it at her. “Name. Or I’m gonna slash you.”

“Mine? Mister Cobblepot, I’m disappointed that you don’t know the names of the women you kidnap.” She griped, voice turning into a shout of pain when he swiped the knife against her cheek. Blood flowed from the cut down her face, dripping onto her sweatshirt and she teared up, cheek stinging harshly.

“Want me to do the other side and make it match?” he asked, and she glared at him through her teary eyes.

“Go fuck yourself, oompa-loompa.” Glowering at the knife coming back down at her and she watched as something collided with it, causing sparks to jump as the knife practically jumped out of his hand.

Penguin cried out and spun in the direction of whatever had knocked the knife from him. “Red Hood!”

Someone dropped beside him and propped an elbow on the vigilante’s shoulder. “And Nightwing!” he glanced at her. “Sorry for getting you involved in this.”

She tried for a smile but still grimaced. “Say that after you get me out of this.”

He grinned and pulled out his escrima sticks, clicking the buttons. “That’s fair.”

“Well don’t just stand there!” Penguin yelled at the thugs. “Get them!”

It was a free for all. And even she was wincing with pity when a thug landed in front of her feet, blood streaming out of his nose as his eyes rolled back in his head. She figured since they were busy with fighting one another, she could use the time to get out of her binds—if at all possible.

She wriggled vigorously until there was slack in the ropes around her wrist and she started yanking her arms back, ignoring the way it broke her skin and rubbed it raw. Eventually she got one hand out and she let out a cheer, eyes scanning the ground for the knife.

It lay a few feet away and she grunted as she slouched in the chair, kicking her leg out as far as she could to toe it closer. Almost there! She strained against the bind and slammed her foot on the knife, dragging it to her. With a winning smile she picked it up and slashed the rest of the ropes on her wrist and stood up, immediately ducking as another thug flew over her head and she glared at Red Hood.

“Hey! Watch it!”

He stopped fighting, a gang-banger in a headlock. “How’d you get out of that?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, Hood.”

Chuckling, he slung the guy into the wall and pointed to the exit. “Get out and run as far as you can.”

“Right.” She spun and started towards the double doors when two thugs got in her way and she sighed. “Oh, fuck off.” Taking a step back, she turned on her heel when one grabbed her around the waist, and she yelped as he lifted her in the air. “Lemme go you big bastard!”

“(Y/N)!”

Someone shouted her name and she did the only thing she could do—she swung knife downwards, narrowly missing her own side as she stabbed the thug in the hip. He screamed, dropping her and she grunted when she hit the concrete. (Y/N) crawled along the ground when the same guy she stabbed, hauled her up by her belt.

“Oh, come on!” she yelled, and he threw her into the corner of the warehouse into some plywood boxes. They shattered under the force of the throw and her weight and she collapsed in a pile of hardboard, something in her side aching much more than anything else, like she’d been stabbed.

After a moment, the fighting seemed to die down and she managed to crawl to her knees, glancing down to find whatever kept poking her in skin and her eyes widened when she saw the jagged end of a piece of plywood sticking out of her stomach. And the second she saw it, the pain came, and she gasped sharply, holding it as she looked up them.

They were dealing with Penguin and she watched as Nightwing shoved the escrima stick to his neck and sent fifty-thousand volts into his body, watching as he jerked and passed out.

(Y/N) fell back on her knees and weakly called, “Guys?” they turned and gaped at her. “Help me.”

Red Hood was the first one to her and he dropped to his knees, pulling her against him. “(Y/N),” he breathed, one hand skimming over her face, the other pressing against the wound. She cried out and he said, “You’re going to be okay.” He looked at Nightwing. “Call a bus. Now.”

Nightwing knelt beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). We’re going to take care of you.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t too sure of her belief in them. “It hurts,” she whimpered and Red Hood looked down at her side, raising his gauntlet to it.

“The wood punctured your liver.” He said and she sighed in shock.

“Am…am I gonna die?” she asked quietly, and Red Hood yanked off his hood, pressing down tightly onto her side.

“No. You’re not going to die, (Y/N).”

Suddenly, tears were gathering in her eyes and she whimpered, “I don’t wanna die.” (Y/N) grasped at the wrist that was digging into her abdomen. “Please, I don’t wanna die now.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she let out a sob. “I don’t wanna die here.”

He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. “You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I’m not going to let you die here.”

Her eyes found his behind the domino mask and she whimpered again. “I’m scared, Red Hood.”

“I’m going to save you. I swear I will.” He ignored the blood that had smeared across her cheek and pressed his hand back to her bleeding abdomen, tears of his own gathering in his vision as he whispered, “I won’t lose you too.”

(Y/N) pressed her head to his shoulder. “I have a cat at my home. If I don’t make it will you get him for me? Find him a good home?”

“Don’t talk like this. You’re going to make it, (Y/N).” He looked at Nightwing. “Where’s the bus?”

“Ten out,” he replied. “I’ll go open the doors.” He hurried off and left the two.

“Red Hood, my cat—”

“You’re going to see Matlock again, I promise,” he interrupted sternly, and she gaped at him.

“How do you know my cat’s name? How do you even know my name?” He met her eyes and slowly reached up, peeling the mask from his face and her jaw went slack. “J—Jason?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Surprised?”

(Y/N) could barely find the words and she huffed, “I called you a jerk-off last weekend.”

“Yeah, I kinda deserved that.” Jason laughed, putting the mask back into place. “Couldn’t help it though. You made cupcakes for my brother.”

“Jealous?” she teased, voice dropping into a groan when she shifted.

Jason cupped her cheek. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He thumbed her skin as the paramedics entered the warehouse and he smiled. “You’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

She gripped his hand. “Don’t leave me. Please, Jason, don’t leave me.”

“I’ll come to see you after they get you into the hospital. Okay?”

“Promise?” (Y/N) whispered and he nodded.

“I promise, doll.” He nodded his head and stepped back, letting the medics do their job. And when they had her in the back of the ambulance, he sighed heavily and watched the siren wail as the red lights disappeared down the boulevard.

Dick rested a hand on his shoulder. “Go. I’ll call GCPD.”

Jason turned and pulled his brother into a strong hug, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, Dick. God, thank you so much.”

“Oh my God, are you willingly hugging me!” Dick screeched, and when Jason tried to pull away, he held on and buried his face in Jason’s shoulder. “My Little-wing!”

“Okay, get the fuck off me. This is embarrassing.” He scowled.

***

Her head felt heavy and she barely had the strength to open her eyes. Brightness flooded her vision and she shut them again, waiting a moment before trying to open them once more. This time, it wasn’t as bright, and she blearily glanced around the room before catching sight of Jason curled up uncomfortably in the hospital chair beside her bed.

She didn’t wake him at first, simply gazing at him. He looked tired. Tired and worn out, like he hadn’t slept in years. Which might’ve been the case if the rumors of Red Hood being the second Robin were true—murdered then revived later. She doubt he slept much at all.

As if he knew she was watching him, his eyes opened and he met hers, blinking the sleep away and then he was leaning forward, gently murmuring, “Hey, (Y/N). How do you feel?”

She sighed, resting on the pillow, the thumb brushing her forehead almost lulling her back into sleep. “…Tired,” she mumbled. “And sore.”

Jason huffed a laugh. “Yeah, getting stabbed will do that to you.” He glanced towards the door. “Let me go get the doctor real—”

“Stay,” she said, grabbing his arm and he stilled. “Please stay. Just for a moment.”

“Alright,” he agreed, sitting back in the chair. “I’ll stay,” he said, but his eyes became firm. “but in five minutes, I’m going to get Doctor Brown.”

(Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him, and they collapsed into laughter, though at one point she groaned, “Oh God, don’t make me laugh.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “Everything in this general area hurts.”

Jason took her hand. “It will—quit prodding it,” he griped. “You don’t wanna open up your stitches.” He ran his calloused thumb over the back of her hand and met her eyes. “I was so scared when I saw you get taken.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve seen it coming earlier. I should’ve told you earlier, but I was so scared of letting you know everything.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “But I almost wasn’t fast enough tonight, and you got hurt and—”

(Y/N) brushed her fingers over his lips, shushing him. “Jason, it wasn’t your fault.”

He frowned behind her fingers. “But you—”

“I’m here.” She affirmed. “And I’m okay.” (Y/N) grabbed his chin. “You saved me.”

“What happens if I’m too late next time?” he asked, eyes searching hers and she smiled.

“We’re not going to let that happen.”

“But it—”

“It’s not going to happen again.” She brushed her thumb over his lip and smiled at him.

He cupped her hand to his face and bent over, pressing his lips to hers; Jason stayed there for a moment, merely resting his forehead to hers and he lamented, “I’m sorry I turned you down. I never meant to hurt you…I was just—”

“Keeping me safe,” she surmised. “I know, baby.” Jason froze, eyes wide. “Too early?”

He chuckled and kissed her again. “Say it again.”

“Mmm, say please, and I’ll throw in a ‘I love you’.” (Y/N) countered.

“Pretty please?”

She grinned. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, doll.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #red hood #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #dc #dc imagines

[plaidbooks]

Cabin Life - Whittling Roses

A/N: Hello, I have lost complete control of myself and just keep writing this AU. I blame @berniesilvas, but I also love her and this AU so much. For now, this was all the concrete ideas I had--everything else is vague ideas that I don’t have a fic plotted for yet. I hope you all enjoy!

Tags: just fluff, the briefest mention of smut (only one line), and a little bit of a make-out session

Words: 1857

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

As predicted, the snowstorm blocked off contact between you and Sonny for most of the winter months. As soon as the snow started to melt, it would snow again, causing a bigger buildup. He texted you when he could—when the cells had connection—but otherwise, he was confined to his cabin, as you were to yours.

He never once stopped thinking about you, especially when he was huddled in a pile of your blankets, the fireplace happily crackling in front of him. He remembered the night he made love to you right there on the floor, and he wished he could do it again, in his bed this time. Even the thought of your body in his embrace, your warmth and scent surrounding him, was enough to make his body flush with desire.

To help take his mind off you…well, to help control his thoughts—there was no “not thinking” about you—he took a block of wood inside, his whittling blade in hand. When he looked at that block of unimpressive, plain wood, he could clearly see what he wanted to make. But even with his skill, it was a complicated task. At least he had months to work on it.

He spent most of his time whittling. He only took a break to cook, eat, maybe watch tv if he could get a signal in the blizzard. He also brought in a separate piece of wood, to practice different techniques on; he wanted his gift to you to be perfect, to show his love for you.

Sonny let his mind wander as he whittled—as long as he paid attention to the details. His mind irrevocably went back to you every time. He wanted to ask how you felt about kids; though you had mentioned wanting them before, he wanted to see if that was still true.

Eventually, his mind wandered to him marrying you. He wanted to propose, with rings and everything, have both your families there. Maybe he could build an archway to go in that meadow or something, cover it with flowers. He was already building a bridge to go across that creek by his place. An archway shouldn’t be too hard.

Then he smiled as a thought struck him; what if he whittled the wedding rings? He’d have to get better, perfect his craft before he even attempted at something so important. He’d have to talk to you about that, too, make sure you were okay with it. He had enough money to buy a traditional ring, if that’s what you wanted.

 ***********************

About a month into his project, he finished the first of what he hoped would be a dozen roses. He gazed intently at the bud, the petals. Then, his eyes travelled down the stem to the leaf, the veins carved into it. Was it the best rose ever made? Absolutely not. But it was a rose, and it would be perfect for you.

It had taken him much longer than he had anticipated to make one rose. He had stopped frequently to practice petals and veins, though, which had taken up time. Still, he was afraid he wouldn’t finish them quick enough; he had never spent a winter in the cabin, and he didn’t know how long the storms lasted (he had to make a call to the Willis’s for how to cover his gardens). So, while he felt jubilation at finishing one rose, he didn’t celebrate, instead getting right back to it.

The second rose only took him two weeks, and the third, a week. Now that the stems were done, he was getting faster at doing the petals and leaves. He still took his time, made sure he didn’t mess them up, but he was improving. Some of them, he left as bulbs, the petals just opening, while others were in full bloom. He debated painting them, but he wanted to make his own dyes, and he had no idea how to do that. Plus, he kind of liked the light, wooden color.

Once he finished, he fought the urge to continue working on them. He did go back and fix up some details in the first flower that he learned to deal with by the tenth. Now came the question of what to put them in. Does he get a fancy ribbon and tie the stems together for a bouquet? Or should he whittle a vase for them? It’s not like they needed water.

Outside, the blizzard raged on. So, Sonny figured he could make a vase, and if he didn’t like it, he could toss it in the fireplace. Taking yet another block of wood, he got to work. This project, he had a little less of a vision than before. He thought about it as he pulled the roses together, measuring how big of an opening he needed on top.

Slowly, a shape began to form in his mind’s eye, and he started cutting. He wanted a long, skinny neck on top, and a wider base. He wouldn’t have to hollow the inside, only the top part enough to hold the roses. Still, he was doing it by hand, and it took him another month to have just the basic shape done. But he wanted to add details.

Taking his smallest whittling tool, he went to work on the design. Maybe it was corny, but Sonny was a corny guy. He carved apples and his best attempt at lavender flowers, the two things that drew you both together. And in the middle, he carved out a heart, both of your initials inside. He smiled when he was done, knowing that you’d love it regardless; it came from him.

He collected all the wooden roses and rearranged them in the vase until they were how he wanted them. He smiled proudly at the sight, and he wished the snow would stop so he could give them to you now.

 **********************

He only had to wait another two weeks before the snow finally let up enough for him to visit you. The sky was a bright blue, the sun making the fallen snow blinding. Sonny texted you that he was coming over, asking if you wanted to go with him to the local shops to restock on some food. You agreed, and he was instantly on his ATV, the roses zipped up protectively in his jacket.

Sonny parked, then came up to your front door, vase in hand. He knocked and then was suddenly worried that you’d hate the roses, that you’d think him childish. You had given him blankets, something useful, while all he made was wooden flowers—

You opened the door, smiling brightly when you saw Sonny standing there. You had missed him deeply, and you were happy to see his hair and beard longer. Then your eyes flicked down to the wooden vase clutched in his hand.

“What’s this?” you asked, voice hushed in awe at the bouquet.

He swallowed hard. “I, uh, I made ya these fer ya…. I thought, ya know, that I should get ya flowers. But they always wilt and die, so I thought if I made them outta wood, then….”

“You—you made these?” Your eyes tore from the roses to lock to his blues.

He slowly extended his arm, holding the vase out to you, and you took it, marveling at the details in the leaves and petals, then the vase itself. You chuckled as you recognized the apples and lavender, and you had to blink away tears when you saw the heart.

“Sonny, I love them. Thank you so much,” you breathed, smiling up at him.

He grinned nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Ya do? I was afraid that they weren’t useful—”

“Of course, they’re useful,” you replied, and he tilted his head, brow furrowed. “They show me how much you love me, even when you’re not here to tell me yourself.”

The brightness of his smile could match that of the sun. “Plus, they’ll never die, like my love for you.”

“You sap,” you said, giggling. With your free hand, you grabbed his jacket and pulled him to you for a sweet kiss. His nose and lips were chilled from the wind outside, but you didn’t care. Besides, his lips warmed quickly enough against yours.

“Come on; let’s head to the market so I can get ya home ‘fore the snow starts back up,” Sonny muttered against your lips.

You snuck another kiss. “Why bring me home? Why not just take me to your place? I know we could keep each other warm”

He let out a low growl, kissing you deeper, his tongue in your mouth. Your bodies were magnetic, drawing each other closer. It was a struggle to pull away long enough to place the roses on a table before you were back, body melding to his, hand going to his hair. He pushed you against the doorjamb, hands exploring under the hem of your jacket.

Your father cleared his throat from inside the house, and Sonny sprung off you as if you had shocked him. “S—sorry, sir—” he stammered, face turning a bright red.

Your father crossed his arms, giving him a hard look. “Just close the door; you’re letting the heat out.”

You gave Sonny a sheepish grin as he came inside, closing the door behind him. You told him you needed to pack some things, and you took the vase, heading for your room, leaving Sonny and your father alone.

The latter studied Sonny intently, gazing at him from over his spectacles, and Sonny tried not to fidget under his scrutiny.

“I intend to marry your daughter,” he blurted out. He winced internally; why the fuck did he say that?! But now that it was out there, he was prepared to defend it to the death. He kept his face a mask of stone, not letting your father see his fear.

He continued staring at Sonny, weighing his words. “Does she know that?”

“She does; I told her last time she was over. From the moment I saw her, I knew that I wanted nothin’ more than to marry her.”

He nodded lightly; just a jut of his chin. “Have you proposed? Do you have a ring?”

“It’s only been a few months; I wanted to wait a lil, make sure it’s what she wants, too,” Sonny explained.

“Just don’t wait too long; I don’t want you leading her on or hurting her.”

Sonny’s eyes widened in offense. “I would never—”

You came back right then, a duffle bag in your hand, and glancing nervously between the two men. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” you asked uncertainly.

“Nothing dear. Have fun and stay safe,” your father said, and he came over, kissing your cheek, then headed to a different room.

You cocked an eyebrow at Sonny, but he just shook his head, moving to hold the door open for you. Confused at the tension, you went out into the crisp, winter air, taking a deep breath. You were sure Sonny would tell you the whole story later.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

[mythicamagic]

Funeral Flowers: a Sesskag Oneshot

Summary:  Sesshoumaru knows what Kagome's favourite flower is- because it just so happens Forget-Me-Nots have been filling his throat for months. Hanahaki Disease fic. Sesskag oneshot.

AN: for @drosselmeyerwrites​, who is also a lover of the 'suffering Sesshoumaru' trope. She's been a lovely commenter and wholesome person in the fandom ^^

Warning: body horror elements. This is a Hanahaki Disease fic with a twist on the concept.

Words: 10,000

Rated M

@cookieasylum​ drew an amazing fanart for this fic so please check this fic out on Ao3!

Funeral Flowers

It started as a mere flutter. Sesshoumaru could feel it at the back of his throat: the beginnings of something that tickled and irritated his windpipe- not enough to cause anything serious, but just noticeable. This sensation only worsened with time.

Kagome looked at him like he'd grown a second head after hearing him stifle a certain noise clumsily behind his fingers.

"Huh," she mused, peering closely at him. "I don't think I've ever heard you cough before."

After a few weeks, he'd begun coughing. A little blemish that he could easily hide behind his hand. Sesshoumaru had wanted no one to notice such a shameful thing. An unwilling action, but required in order to clear his airways.

"Hn," peeling long fingers away from his down-turned mouth, he looked away. Kagome shifted bare legs in the glittering water, lounging on some rocks by a river while half-heartedly sunbathing in a tank top and shorts. Golden eyes slid back to the slim, pale stretch of her smooth, toned leg as she swayed it.

"Kind of a human action, isn't it? Do demons even get colds?" her concern only seemed to increase. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No," he huffed, adjusting himself beside her. They kept a respectable distance. 'Friends' was what she called them. Sesshoumaru tried and failed to tear his gaze away from the parting of her thighs as she stretched languidly. "I do not get sick," he added, "such a thing is beneath me."

Kagome slid both arms behind her head to act as a cushion, laying down. "A few years ago you'd have said sitting beside a priestess ankle-deep in a river would be 'beneath' you. Things change."

Sesshoumaru tilted his chin up to regard her haughtily and gave a dignified snort, adjusting his rolled-up hakama pants. "It is beneath me."

Kagome rose a brow, fluttering one hand carelessly in a shooing motion, "go on then. Leave if it's so offensive," she sighed, trying and failing to hide her smile.

No.

His body flared alive at the thought, unsettled. Sesshoumaru bit back another prickling cough, settling for clearing his throat. "You should be the one to leave. This one was here first."

"Wha- no! I got to the river before you!"

"I was referring to age. Bratty mikos should listen to their elders."

Kagome burst out laughing, sitting up to lightly bat his shoulder. "That makes you sound ancient! You're such a dork. No one else knows how much of an absolute dork you are, do they? It's a crying shame."

Sesshoumaru did not know what a 'dork' was, but he assumed it to be something unflattering. He should've been annoyed by it, aggravated. Kagome's playful, happy scent made this notion impossible.

Thin lips twitched at the edges, dragging his heels through the cool current. He couldn't honestly put into words why exactly he'd shown up, following her scent. Logically, he knew he should leave her alone.

They fell into an amicable silence again, one that had been born from months of time spent together. Odd snatches of coincidental meetings had flourished into something more, and they'd begun seeking one another out for company whenever he visited the village. Sometimes she even paid him a visit the Western Stronghold. Any demons who complained about it were silenced by how… determined the miko was to make friends. A force of nature. It had amused him to no end watching ancients tripping over themselves to try to avoid her bad books.

He could also deeply understand those who had taken an immense liking to her.

Kagome was warm and teasing, a rare thing not wholly unwelcome. Her stories of the future were interesting, personality vibrant but down to earth and occasionally sassy. He enjoyed her more than he should, a quiet, snarky male by nature basking in her effortless glow.

"What's your favourite flower?"

He blinked, "this is a question belonging to Rin. I do not expect such fanciful notions from you."

Kagome huffed and flicked her hand to splash some water over his knee. "I can talk about flowers if I want to. Shinto asked me what mine were, so I got to thinking. I'd like to know what yours are too- or do pretty dog demons baring flower crests not have an opinion on them?"

He sniffed, bringing down one leg to create a splash that soaked her side. Kagome let out a yelp. "The Shiragiku flower. "

"Oh you can't be serious!" She giggled. "When I asked what your favourite colour was, you said 'white' of all things. White! That's the absence of colour!"

"This one is aware. You kept rabbiting on about it," he wiped some imaginary lint off one shoulder.

"But still! And now you tell me you like flowers that are infamously used for funerals," blue eyes rolled skyward, glittering with mirth. "Why am I not surprised, Mr Killing Perfection?"

Thin lips lifted into a sneer free of malice. "Very well, Shikon miko. What is your favoured flower?"

Kagome hummed. "Forget-Me-Nots."

Letting out a noise between a huff and a chuckle, he shot her an exasperated look. "And you give me grief over mine. Did you not say that blue was your favoured colour?"

"Hey, Forget-me-Nots can be pink, white or blue! I'm not as predictable in my tastes as some people."

That was most definitely true, he thought flatly. She had moved on from her first love, a Hanyou- only to bond with a Daiyoukai, and then…

And then…

Kagome stood, stretching both arms above her head. Sesshoumaru knew what she'd say before she even said it, wincing and bringing a hand absentmindedly to the base of his throat. It throbbed. Now the ache even seemed to seep lower.

What is this pain in my chest? He wondered. What is this strange sensation?

"I should go."

Sesshoumaru slid tired attention up to her and nodded silently. He would not wish her well.

"Shinto will wonder where I am," she needlessly elaborated.

"Indeed."

Kagome glanced at him and dropped her arms. "What's wrong?"

He thought to tell her, not for the first time. But it was silenced by everything else that had come before. Their history. Their species. Her lack of discernible interest, her new flame. A heavy weight pressed down upon his chest. His shoulder ached.

"Nothing. I am fine."

Dark brows pulled together. Sesshoumaru stood and nudged her away with a single palm on her back that lingered too long. "Go. I am… merely hungry."

"Oh!" a look of relief swept over her face. Kagome laughed, "okay, I'll leave you in peace. Happy hunting!"

Sesshoumaru felt his chest ache and constrict while his expression remained a blank mask. He covertly winced after she'd jogged away to a trail within the forest that would take her back to Kaede's village. She stopped to wave, and he quickly wiped his expression clean again, rendering it neutral.

Kagome smiled gently, her face full of friendly affection. Sesshoumaru regally inclined his head, eyes burning.

Do not go.

She left him alone, hurrying away to see her new flame in complete ignorance.

Sesshoumaru coughed and massaged the base of his throat as soon as she was gone, frowning.

Feeling something stuck to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he curiously parted his lips and reached behind a sharp tooth to pluck the soft, small thing out.

Damp from saliva, a tiny, pretty blue petal caught his attention, clutched between forefinger and thumb. Sesshoumaru stared. A sense of creeping foreboding slipped into the back of his mind at the discovery.

This did not bode well.

---

His affliction made visits to the village difficult. It was easier in the beginning when he could hide a few coughs and tickles of the throat. Steadily, however, the discomfort increased. Sesshoumaru needed to pick out petals from his mouth every day, and the number of them only grew with frequency. He had to remove the irritating little things every hour now.

"Lord Sesshoumaru has been picking at his teeth a lot lately," he heard Rin whisper to Jaken, pausing mid-brush. She had been tasked with caring for the old miko's horse. "Is it a toothache?"

"Shh! Don't comment on such a thing so loudly, girl! If Lord Sesshoumaru wants to do some teeth maintenance, then he may do so!" Jaken squawked, frowning up at her.

Sesshoumaru cut golden eyes to the sky and turned away.

"Ah, I didn't mean to insult you, Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"You're STILL drawing attention to it!" Jaken griped.

Pointed ears twitched, blocking out their animated voices and tuning into a set of quick footsteps. Sesshoumaru inhaled, wincing as his lungs protested- the scent of citrus, summer and home comforts reaching him long before Kagome appeared from around the side of a hut. She beamed. His heart ached.

"Hey," she called, trotting over.

"Hello, Kagome!" the little girl waved enthusiastically, wobbling.

Steadying Rin atop her wooden perch as she continued brushing the tall horse, Kagome flashed him a knowing look. "You look tense. Is it from being near the stables?" she teased.

Rin gasped, "does Lord Sesshoumaru not like horses?"

"It's their smell, you nitwit!"

Kagome frowned at Jaken, before searching Sesshoumaru's face for answers. Obviously his silence and demeanour was starting to worry her. Taking a breath, he tried to ignore the petals stuck in the gaps of his teeth. He could feel more building, pooling in the back of his throat like thick mucus.

"They are skittish and afraid of this one. It is better to keep distance."

Predictably, Kagome gentled- but surprised him by easing closer. She seized his hand, tugging- and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Heat touched his cheeks.

Kagome walked backwards, maintaining eye contact like the femme fatale she wasn't, shifting her soft touch to grasp the back of his hand, lacing lithe fingers through his. She then forced the Daiyoukai's palm to rest against a warm neck. The horse shifted slightly, tail flicking, yet it did not startle. With Kagome's prompting, Sesshoumaru glided the flat of his calloused palm down the length of its powerful neck, the thin layer of brown fur tickling his skin.

"Maji isn't like other horses, he's calm around demons. He has to be if Kaede is gonna ride him to fight Youkai," her voice glided through his ear canals like melted honey. Kagome hummed, "though she said because of her age that he might be mine soon. Weird, huh? It's like she's prepping me to be the village miko more and more."

"It is not 'weird,' it is expected," he uttered, thrilled at the prolonged touch. How foolish. The heat of her palm felt exquisite, hand clasped intimately around his. "You will make an acceptable village miko."

Blue eyes flitted up to him, smiling. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, but… sometimes I wonder if-"

"Ah, so this is where you escaped to."

Sesshoumaru stiffened. Kagome ripped her fingers away- tearing open a gaping hole inside him. He quickly stifled a cough, but it was larger this time, throat clogged. His shoulders shook, sweat dotting his brow.

Kagome was busy being scooped up by Shinto, a large male. He dressed well, for a human, a jagged scar running over one eye. A momento from his mercenary days, he'd called it, though he was now reformed.

Kagome laughed and swatted his shoulder, demanding to be put down. Jaken piped up, yelling about indecency. All the while, Sesshoumaru fought not to let anything show. To not let the agony out. The jealousy. The consuming desire to act upon instinct and take what he ached for.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand seeing the male's burly, meaty hands drag over her hips to settle at the base of her spine. Like they belonged there. Sesshoumaru coughed again, drawing away.

Kagome caught the action, turning to him. "Sesshoumaru?"

He hated the concern swimming in her gaze. It would be so much easier to despise her.

"I have lingered too long," he said quietly, trying to mask the rawness of his voice. "This one should be going."

Kagome nodded slowly, "do you want some honey to soothe your throat? It sounds a little-"

"No," he quietly snapped, starting to walk away. Confusion immediately curdled in her scent, and he regretted the lapse in control. Now she'd worry.

Foolishness.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" Jaken hurriedly ran after him, following his Lord from the village. "Bah, those humans get more presumptuous every day. I don't blame you for leaving in such a hurry," he muttered, keeping up his tangent long after they'd met the treeline of Inuyasha's forest.

Sesshoumaru unexpectedly stopped, slamming claws into tree bark and causing it to splinter.

Jaken yelped, jumping and dropping his staff. "Mi-mi Lord?" bulbous eyes widened upon seeing him stoop over slightly, silver hair obscuring ashen features.

Sesshoumaru's shoulders shook, dry heaving sounds reaching Jaken's hearing. The retainer gasped, watching him cough, gasp and choke. Thick trails of dewy saliva pooled onto the ground. Rasping noises shuddered out from clenched teeth. Trembling claws reached inside his mouth, feeling something at the back of his throat. Grasping it, Sesshoumaru fought not to gag, coughing while removing the thing and looking at it with stinging eyes.

A Forget-me-not flower sat innocently between forefinger and thumb.

Both demons stared. Phlegm soaked petals rested at Sesshoumaru's feet. Jaken stood gravely silent for a while.

"Mi Lord…" he said thinly. "You have fallen prey to something very old…"

"You will not breathe a word about it to anyone," Sesshoumaru coughed, eyes stinging. He straightened and wiped his mouth, collecting himself. He threw the flower aside.

"But-"

"No one, Jaken," Sesshoumaru hissed, molten golden eyes burning. "Or I'll kill you."

Jaken yelped and quickly bowed several times, promising wholeheartedly not to interfere.

"I-I understand! However, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could hear out a suggestion?"

Sesshoumaru sneered and started walking again, his breathing slightly hoarse and rasping now, no longer quiet. His lips pressed together, trying to silence himself. It proved painful, and he quickly breathed through his mouth again.

Jaken tentatively continued; "your affliction is something ancient. I know little about it, but I do remember that it's possible to have it removed before it claims your life."

Sesshoumaru stopped, hands curling into fists. Claws scraped palms.

"That will not do, either," came his soft response.

"W-why ever not, milord?! This matter is potentially deadly to demons!"

Sesshoumaru stared ahead unseeingly. He knew of the affliction too. Had recognised what it was immediately. If he removed the flowering bud from within his chest, wiped away all evidence from her from his body, then he'd lose the very thing that had made him catch the illness in the first place.

His feelings for Kagome Higurashi.

"My reasons are my own," Sesshoumaru coughed behind his hand. "I will not die. Do not fuss over trivial matters, Jaken."

His retainer gaped, hurrying after him. Fierce worry painted his features. The infamous and deadly Hanahaki Curse could fell even the strongest of Daiyoukai.

---

It interfered with eating.

Sesshoumaru thankfully did not need to eat too often, but hunger inevitably gnawed its way into his gut. Transformed, he raced through the forest on all fours in a smaller version of his true form. Low-hanging branches lashed at his face. Forget-me-not flowers lodged in his throat conglomerated into a thick mass. They were practically a ball stuck at the back of his mouth. Sesshoumaru managed to ignore it just enough to track the scent of a deer- only to lose it and find a green pheasant within range.

Barely a snack, but it would do.

With a gurgling snarl, Sesshoumaru sprang at some bushes. Squawking with distress, the bird took flight- only to be caught in his jaws. Bringing sharp teeth down elicited a satisfying crunch. The taste of iron filled his parched mouth. Tilting his head back, Sesshoumaru had every intention of swallowing it whole. He'd done so before. The bird was small enough compared to his form. However, this quickly became impossible.

Red eyes widened. The flowers acted as a barrier, preventing food from travelling down his throat.

Spitting out the bird, Sesshoumaru tore into it. He tried again and again, breaking the kill into smaller pieces. He even tried drinking from the river to wash down the flowers. Nothing worked. No food could pass into his stomach.

With a low crooning noise that hissed out between his teeth, Sesshoumaru padded away from his uneaten kill with an agitated flick of his tail.

---

It affected his sleep next.

At his Stronghold in the Western lands, Sesshoumaru set aside his paperwork and retired to bed. Curling into a nest of furs, he stretched out long legs, sprawling on one side.

Only to feel a dull ache thrum from his ribs.

Wincing and setting a hand over the spot, Sesshoumaru frowned. He was unfamiliar with the sensation, however, Kagome had once whined and complained about 'pulling a muscle.' Perhaps the tight, clamping sensation echoed that pain. Deciding to roll over onto his opposite side- he abruptly burst into a coughing fit. The angle had upset his breathing, lungs protesting.

This vicious cycle continued long into the night. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Even laying still made him feel tense and pained. In the end, Sesshoumaru rose from his futon and began running.

Too tired to think, he transformed, relying on instinct to guide him. He whined softly; the ache spreading. He wheezed a little, breathing constrained despite being physically fit.

The inuyoukai sprinted to the outskirts of Kaede's village. Scenting the air, he caught a welcome fragrance on the breeze.

Mate.

Clearing the hillside with a single bound, Sesshoumaru shrank his form even further to that of a regular dog. Sniffing around the outside of a hut, fluffy ears perked. She was not home.

Where?

Following the invisible trail in the air, he padded around the village, passing by unseen by some villagers. Their lack of vigilance disgusted him. What lax security. Stopping at the Monk and Slayer's hut, he listened, hearing a soft humming from within. The sharp tang of blood, vomit, faeces and afterbirth caught his frayed attention.

The Slayer had been pregnant. From the sounds and smells of things, she had given birth and now slept while Kagome remained awake. He could pick up the faint fussing from a young babe.

Sesshoumaru stayed still, listening to the miko gently hum. Slowly, his body weakened, and the inuyoukai lay down outside the hut, resting a weary head atop large paws.

Something stirred from within, the rustle of covers. "Mn... are you alright? Want me to take over?"

"No, I'm fine," Kagome answered in a hushed tone. "He seems completely zonked out, little cutie-pie."

The Slayer paused, "your head. You said it was aching again earlier."

"Heh, Sango! You've just had another baby! Focus on yourself!" her lovely voice tinged with exasperation. "Really, everything is okay. It just hurts from time to time ever since that night with the boar youkai attack. It's no big deal."

"Prolonged headaches and amnesia does not fall under 'no big deal,' Kagome."

Laughing this off breezily, he could hear the shrug in her tone. "I just blank on a few things from the month prior to the attack. I'm sure it wasn't anything important."

Tired lids slid shut, and Sesshoumaru gained some sense of rest while imagining the woman within cradling a newborn pup instead of a gurgling infant. The two women talked some more, lulling him into a false sense of comfort even as his throat thrummed with continuous pain.

---

Breathing was a struggle.

Every inhale became a wheezing, quivering thing. Like crumpled paper that had been smoothed out and squashed too many times. Mucus constantly filled his mouth, senses clogged. His breathing ranged from laboured to a noisy, rasping thing.

He could no longer afford to visit the village. Sesshoumaru took to monitoring Rin from afar whenever he felt the need to check up on her. Needless to say, he avoided Kagome at all costs. The miko was an infamous busy body who would become a nightmare to deal with if she knew of his suffering.

Yes, that was the only reason.

However, on a random day he briefly let his guard down, the unthinkable happened.

Inuyasha found out.

If Sesshoumaru had comprised a list of all the beings he did NOT want to know about his affliction, Inuyasha would be right up there, along with his meddling mother.

Inuyasha stared, watching him with a complicated, horrified look on his gruff features. Shifting, Sesshoumaru stood from where he'd been knelt by a river.

Forget-me-nots floated downstream.

"... What the hell is wrong with you?" were the first words Inuyasha blurted out.

Sesshoumaru wiped his mouth, sneering. "I need not explain myself to you, whelp."

"Keh, if anything warrants a damn explanation, it's barfing up flowers."

He didn't need to hear anymore, turning with the intent to leave. No doubt the fool would talk nonsense, and he had no patience for such things with his current headache. His temples were pounding, throat parched.

"Why don't you just fucking tell her, you coward?"

That certainly caught his attention. Sesshoumaru halted. "What?" he croaked.

"Ya think I'm that ignorant, huh?" Inuyasha rolled his eyes, shoving both hands inside his sleeves. "I know."

"Know what, exactly," silken tones rasped. "You are but an ignorant pup. You were not raised within youkai circles, and so could not possibly understand."

"And whose fault is that?" shaking his head, Inuyasha huffed. "I dunno what crap you're yappin' on about, anyway. I'm talkin' about your secret relationship with Kagome that you had a couple of months ago."

Stiffening, Sesshoumaru felt his bones lock and throat inflame. He swallowed, wincing slightly. He flashed his teeth, "whatever you think you know, it is incorrect. A baseless assumption."

"Bullshit!"

Continuing to walk with every intention of escaping the pending conversation, he stopped dead the second Inuyasha opened his mouth; "I could smell you on her! But that all changed the second she hit her head. Did she forget you or something? You were happy to just abandon her after she stopped being useful for a good time?"

A deafening snarl upset his aching throat, ripping something inside. Blurring through the air impossibly fast, Sesshoumaru snatched up his sibling's throat and slammed him into a tree, causing the trunk to shudder.

"Silence," a blood-curdling rasp hissed out from clenched teeth like boiling steam. Crimson eyes glowed, claws itching to bury into the nuisance's windpipe.

Even while choking, Inuyasha managed to bark out a laugh, grasping a striped wrist. "You really do like her, huh? Never thought I'd see the day, bastard." White ears pulled back flat against his skull. "What's the deal? Just open your mouth and tell Kagome. Then I don't have to smell your pining ass all over the forest while you stalk her."

Burning embers were snuffed out. Sesshoumaru coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. His shoulder thrummed, aching. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"She does not remember," releasing him, the Daiyoukai stepped back. "The miko fell quite quickly for the male who rescued her that night. The fault lies with me that she sustained injury. If she is content with another, I cannot force her gaze to me."

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. However, Kagome seemed happy with their relationship as friends. Guilt, stung pride and other such ugly emotions were all tied up with the incident.

Inuyasha blinked with disbelief, sizing him up. "When the fuck did you get so noble?" Sesshoumaru sneered, glancing away as his brother continued. "And anyway, what does that have to do with you coughing up flowers?"

Since he'd revealed more than intended as it was, Sesshoumaru felt no inclination to divulge extra information. He turned and this time; resolved not to stop walking. "Drop the subject, whelp."

"Maybe I'll tell Kagome about it."

Sesshoumaru did not falter, knowing the fool's game by now. "Do as you please," he dismissed in a wheezing, thin voice, stepping under the cool shade of weeping willow trees and leaving him behind.

---

He did not intend to revisit their old rendezvous point. Sesshoumaru had wanted to put it behind him, to let everything that had happened within the cave fade into obscurity.

The second he stepped foot within the mossy mouth of its opening, however, Kagome's lingering scent fanned over a striped cheek like a breathy exhale.

Long white lashes slid half shut. Hooded golden eyes became hazed. The memory of her salty, sweet taste wrapping around his tongue flooded his senses. Claws twitched, recalling the phantom sensation of full breasts falling into his palms as her back arched exquisitely. Her eyes had darkened into a lush, deep blue.

She'd been memorable, to say the least.

Walking further in, so that he stood fully submerged in their love-nest, Sesshoumaru basked in the illicit scents and breathy whispers he could remember caressing his hearing. It hadn't just been about sex. It never was with her.

Kagome had held his demonic hand without fear and stroked his cheek, murmuring ardently or giggling quietly. She told him things he hadn't thought he'd wanted to know before.

'You're nothing like your father' she'd said easily but with a conviction that made the ageless demon believe her. The notion should've been insulting. His sire had been unbeatable in strength, so of course he should wish to be like him.

Yet Sesshoumaru had never appreciated such compliments. He wished to be unique, bold, powerful, walking an entirely different path. Her words had been strangely welcome.

"And yet here I stand, Father," Sesshoumaru uttered to himself. In love with a mortal. Dying, because of a human woman of all things.

Just like you.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes snapped wide open. A wave of elation, dread, guilt and longing washed over him. Every fibre of his being flared to life, muscles stiffening, heart racing. His lungs constricted.

Sesshoumaru swallowed a rasping breath, shifting to face the priestess.

Kagome crept closer, glancing around the cave curiously. "Was just in the forest to collect some things. I thought I sensed you close by. Looks like I was right. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," he said softly. His voice sounded fragile these days.

He could tell she was confused, radiating hurt. He hadn't visited in so long. No doubt she'd wondered why. The flowers buried within his windpipe felt heavier in her presence. He cleared his throat.

"Oh," Kagome scuffed a sandal over the dirt-covered floor. "Well... I'm glad I caught you-" she offered a tentative smile. "I've missed talking with you."

Sesshoumaru's insides screamed at him. The marks on his shoulder felt like blistering iron tongues being thrust into his flesh they wailed so loud.

Mate.

"I dunno what's kept you away," Kagome continued talking, making her way out of the cave. He followed, "but you haven't missed much. Rin is progressing nicely with her riding though. I'm not too shabby with that thin sword you gave me either, though Shinto says I need more practice."

That very sent icy needles piercing his skin. Stepping foot outside, Sesshoumaru couldn't stop the abrupt bite in his tone; "why are you here, miko?"

Kagome blinked and glanced at him over one shoulder. She then threaded her fingers behind her back, attention sliding away, voice unreadable.

"Shinto proposed to me."

Sesshoumaru stopped. A profound sense of loss rendered him breathless. He anticipated a coughing fit. Wheezing. Pain. But there was nothing, just him and Kagome standing alone in the silent woods. But she'd be beyond his reach for good soon.

He'd tried. He'd tried hard to forget, as she had. To push all the feelings and words right down from his throat into his chest. Maybe that was how the curse had started.

But he'd have kept the curse for good if it meant lingering in the 'almost' fantasy of them.

Now that illusion would shatter.

The very idea of her belonging to another felt like a wound somewhere inside him that he couldn't locate. The sensation of teeth on his shoulder thrummed, and he coughed, snuffing out the sound behind his hand.

"I didn't really know what to say," Kagome was muttering. "A part of me feels like it's too soon. I wanted to talk to you about it-"

"This one is needed elsewhere," he said in a clipped tone, turning on his heel.

He couldn't be her confidant anymore. Not about this.

"What?"

He began walking, trying to put distance between them. He should've known it wouldn't work as Kagome quickly caught up and planted herself firmly in his way, halting the demon.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" she demanded. "Is it the cough? Are you in so much pain that you can't talk to me?"

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth in a faint sneer, throat protesting at the extended use of his vocal cords. "is it so unthinkable that for once, I may not have time for you, miko?"

"Yes," Kagome planted both hands on her hips. "Because this isn't an isolated thing. I've hardly seen you all month! And besides that, you're my friend, Sesshoumaru. Friends tell each other things. Remember how you talked about the court and how obnoxious General Kito was to deal with? Things like that. I need to talk to you about this- and clearly, you need to talk to someone about whatever's going on with you. I'm worried about you!"

His heart clenched, and Sesshoumaru bit back a hiss at the stab of pain it caused. Thin breathing rasped and rattled. He raised a hand, urging her aside via a gentle grasp on her shoulder to continue walking.

Kagome's grip was not so gentle as she latched onto his arm.

Frustration abruptly burst in his chest and Sesshoumaru snarled, whirling with the intent of spilling everything to her. Ruin their friendship. Burn everything they'd built and admit his failure to protect her-

-only to cough up a mouthful of blood onto her collarbone.

Kagome yelped in surprise, eyes wide. Touching the wet substance dazedly, horror paled her complexion. She looked up at him with palpable fear.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Humiliation stung white-hot and burning into his body. The visceral, blinding sensation of being exposed- of being seen- felt like too much. Too raw. As a demon unused to such things, his first instinct was to remove himself from the situation.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hands, putting the length of the clearing between them.

Kagome called his name again with alarm, asking him to wait, but he would not heed her call.

Taking to the skies, he flew fast and erratically, a wobbly figure. Coughing hard and feeling blood clog up his windpipe like mud, Sesshoumaru had no choice but to land not long after.

Within an overcast clearing upriver from Kagome, he steadied himself against a gnarled tree.

"Hah- hah-" he wheezed, doubling over and squeezing stinging eyes shut.

Something suddenly constricted tight around his lungs, around his very ribcage. Bones protested and ached. He gasped for breath, blood leaking from his open mouth to pool on the floor. Forget-me-nots mingled with it, petals stained red.

Jolting and snapping upright, Sesshoumaru arched his back, throwing back his head. A cry escaped him unlike any other. Loud, agonised and roaring in its ferocity tinged with pain.

Stems shot out from within his ribcage, tearing his chest asunder.

---

Her friends made noises of alarm at the sight of Kagome's bloodied clothes, but the miko ignored Sango and Miroku's questions, bypassing them in favour of finding and grabbing Jaken by the scruff of his robes.

"You're going to tell me in 10 words or less what the hell is going on with your lord," she demanded.

Jaken yelped and squinted, hanging from her hold. "Haven't the faintest idea of what you could be alluding to!" he sniffed.

Kagome snarled and bared her teeth, lifting him closer with a menacing expression and gesturing to the red substance marring her priestess robes. "This is HIS blood. He looked awful. Like- like he was dying, Jaken," her voice broke. "Please. I need to know what's happening. He won't tell me what's wrong and I'm scared."

Yellow eyes rounded wider, swallowing the imp's face. He appeared conflicted.

"Kagome!"

Releasing Jaken, Kagome shifted her attention to Inuyasha, who leapt towards her with alarm pinching his gruff features.

Dread dropped low in her stomach. That was never a good sign.

Distant snapping noises like wood being felled reached her ears. From behind the approaching Hanyou within the forest, large vines could be seen shifting and slithering over a portion of the trees.

"What is it?" Miroku gaped. "I sense a demonic aura, but it's distorted."

Kagome shuddered, feeling strange. She recognised that energy. Identified it as easy as breathing.

"Maybe a forest spirit has been disturbed?" Sango guessed, clutching her son a little more protectively.

"It ain't that," Inuyasha dropped from his jump, landing before them. He panted, white hair windswept. Of all people, his gaze landed upon the miko first. "It's Sesshoumaru."

----

Their way became blocked by a thick mass of vines crisscrossing through the forest. It created a wall, preventing any from entering.

"Lord Sesshoumaru must be further in," Miroku observed, leaning to inspect the leaves. "Beyond this 'barrier' I suppose you could call it."

"I wonder what could have happened," Kagome murmured, brows pulling together. "Sesshoumaru doesn't even have nature powers."

"Why on earth did you bring ME along for this?" a high pitched, nasally voice reached their ears. Sango and Inuyasha readily ignored it, while Kagome frowned down at the imp she held by the scruff of his robes.

"Because you're clearly hiding something, and until you come clean, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

His mouth thinned into a stubborn line, glancing away.

Kagome turned her attention back to the vines. Worry took root in her stomach. The memory of the Daiyoukai spitting up blood remained fresh in her mind, evidence of it staining her clothing and plastering it against her skin.

Handing Miroku their son, Sango went first. She swung Hiraikotsu with a seemingly effortless toss- the bone boomerang spiralling, cleaving trees in half but bouncing straight off the vine wall. It didn't so much as leave a dent.

Not wasting another moment, Inuyasha unsheathed Tetsusaiga. Everyone immediately gave him a wide berth, watching as he shook the sword out into a monstrous blade. He swung it back over one shoulder, feet planted far apart- delivering a swift blow downwards with a loud cry.

A burst of power shot out, heading straight for the vines. They made contact, and for a moment Kagome thought the consuming golden light might break through, only for it to fizzle out. The insurmountable wall remained intact.

Inuyasha tried again and again, using different techniques. None of them worked.

Nocking an arrow in her bow, Kagome took aim. Pale pink reiki split forth, coating the arrow while glowing ever more blinding until she set it free.

She held out hope as it shot through the vines, managing to burst through the dense foliage- which repaired itself almost immediately, covering up the hole.

"Nothing appears to be working," Miroku muttered, turning his friends. "Perhaps we should seek advice elsewhere first before trying to continue."

Her friend's voices faded into background noise as Kagome approached the vines. Frowning slightly, she stretched out her senses, using her aura to touch and brush against the barrier. It felt like him.

If that were the case, the wall was of Sesshoumaru's own making, whether he'd consciously chosen to hide away or not. Perhaps they were going about things the wrong way.

Thinking back to Maji and how carefully they'd run their linked hands down his neck, she raised a palm. Gradually easing closer, Kagome set it down gently onto the vines, stroking downwards.

Hearing outcries of alarm as the greenery parted, only for swirling stems to curl about her shoulders- Kagome quickly grabbed Jaken.

"It's okay, guys. Just find a way to follow me in later," she met their startled gazes. "I feel like I need to reach him quickly."

"Kagome, wait!"

Ignoring their protests, Kagome lept into the fray. She welcomed the green vines that wrapped around her, enclosing the miko and wailing kappa securely behind its wall.

---

Mercifully the winding tendrils of vines that moved as though infused with a will of their own allowed her freedom of movement. Kagome climbed through their moving, twisting stems, occasionally losing her footing and having to grasp hold of some.

"Again, I ask; WHY ARE YOU BRINGING ME ALONG WITH YOU?!" Jaken shrieked, clinging to her back and looking around fretfully.

"You know the answer to that. Tell me what you know about Sesshoumaru's situation and I'll let you go," Kagome hummed, shielding her eyes and looking up at sprawling branches above where sunlight streamed through. Maybe she could punt him over the treetops.

"I have sworn not to break my vow of silence on the matter!"

Grinding her teeth, Kagome stopped and reached over her shoulder, tearing him from her back to frown at him. "If your silence ends up hurting him, is it even worth it? Which means more to you; Sesshoumaru's trust or his life?"

Jaken clamped up, thinking about this for a moment. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, "fine! But you had best save me from his wrath once this is over."

Kagome grinned and patted him on the head, continuing to walk. "I promise."

He huffed, "Lord Sesshoumaru is suffering from a curse."

Blue eyes widened, and Kagome set Jaken over her shoulder like she would Shippo. He did not appreciate the gesture as the kit would while she minded swirling vines aside from their path and ducked through. "What kind of curse?"

"How much do you know about youkai mates, foolish mortal?"

At that, she tilted her head, noticing a blue flowering bud among the vines and gently touching it in passing. "Very little. I know they're like married couples. They, uh... make love and bite each other instead of having a wedding ceremony and stuff. That about sum it up?"

"Insolent girl!" Jaken griped, noticing the bud she touched opening up into a flower behind them. "It is far more than that! Their energies synchronise, aura's linking. However, it's quite imperative they both bite one another."

"Or else the mating is incomplete? What's so bad about that?"

"The partner that was bitten will consider them mated and suffer a one-sided attachment. This isn't so terrible if they have the bite mark healed and lose their troublesome feelings towards their mate," he continued with a self-important air. Kagome didn't mind it if it meant getting answers. "But... if they choose to linger in longing and are prevented from completing the mating, then their energies become distorted! Their youki takes on a life of its own as flowers."

"That's what these vines are," Kagome mused. She shifted, a strange, unsettled feeling churning in her gut. "You're implying someone bit Sesshoumaru? He'd never allow someone to do that if he didn't want it- let alone not reciprocate. Besides, if he could remove it, he'd have surely done so."

"I agree this situation is unprecedented! Unthinkable! Besides that, ANY partner resisting Lord Sesshoumaru's advances is unworthy of being his mate! AH-!"

Kagome jolted, feeling a weight lift from her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she gaped and strained to reach Jaken. Vines had wrapped tight around his mid-section, lifting him away.

"Hang on!" she shimmied her bow off her arm, quickly taking aim. Releasing the arrow, she watched as it hit the mark, sailing through a vine and breaking it in two. Jaken yelped, falling, only to be caught by another vine that continued dragging him back the way they'd come.

"J-just leave me!" he wailed. "Go save Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Kagome blinked, strangely touched. Nodding with conviction, she turned and hurriedly continued to make her way through the dense foliage.

---

Her breath caught the second she caught sight of the flowers.

Forget-me-nots littered the area, becoming more frequent the further in she ventured. Soon she practically waded through a sea of blue petals. They hugged trees, peppering logs, the ground beneath her feet, even climbing above to hang from branches. The vast mass of familiar flowers eventually opened out into a huge clearing packed full of them.

And there, at the centre of it all, Kagome finally saw him.

Vines had burst his chest open, putting quivering lungs on full display. To her horror, she witnessed them expanding and deflating with each struggling, wheezing breath. His ribcage had been repurposed for a vase of flowers. Vibrant blue forget-me-nots poked out between his ribs, green stems tightly wrapped around his bones, constricting.

Sesshoumaru's body lay tilted back, face turned upwards to the sky. Glassy eyes were vacant, blood caking his chin. His armour and hankimono lay shattered and torn on the ground. Around him, the stems that had spilt forth from his gut propped up his lifeless form, clearly part of the mass of greenery that had hindered her approach. Kagome covered her mouth, hand shaking. Tears pricked her eyes. Blue veins visibly spread over his flesh, causing her to wonder if the stems had buried beneath his very skin.

This was not Sesshoumaru. It couldn't be.

Choking on nothing, Kagome hurried closer with a thin noise. Reaching his motionless form, her hands hovered uselessly over his decimated chest. She didn't know where to start. How could she even help him?

"Who did this to you?" her voice wobbled. Stinging eyes misted over, running over his body. He looked like a corpse that had been picked clean by crows. His moving lungs moving were the only indication he was even alive.

"Sesshoumaru- I don't know if you can hear me," Kagome tried, reaching out and touching his cheek. It shocked her skin, icy to the touch. "But please- let go of the person who caused this," she said, locating what she assumed was the mating mark upon his shoulder. "No one is worth dying over. You could start over with your mate. Ask them out- anything!" she shuddered, looking at the flowers poking out from his ribs.

"Just don't die! This isn't like you!" Kagome snapped, tears rolling hotly down her cheeks to slide free from her chin. "Fight this! Keep living. T-there's still so much I want to talk to you about."

The tears landed upon pretty blue petals.

Leaning against him slightly, Kagome sobbed. She wondered if she could just reach out and rip the awful things free from inside his chest.

Why Forget-me-nots, anyway? Why not another flower-

The mating mark halted her hand, fingers brushing the stems. It didn't look like an animal bite, nor did it belong to a demon.

Kagome's eyes slowly widened. She had a distinct tooth at the back of her mouth.

The tooth marks looked like a perfect mould of her teeth.

"Was it...me?" she breathed, glancing up at Sesshoumaru's features dazedly. "Those blank spots in my memory. Was I... with you?"

The puzzle pieces slotted into place perfectly. Kagome stared, feeling like a fool for having not noticed. She'd just thought, assumed- he would never look at her like that.

But if the miko cast her memory back and pictured Sesshoumaru's lovely features, his honeyed gaze resting upon her face, half-lidded, lips quirked, face soft and drinking her in- maybe he had been looking at her 'like that' the whole time.

Kagome shook her head, feeling frantic. She latched onto his shoulders.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen. Why didn't you bite me? Why didn't you TELL me, you stupid demon!" she snapped, cheeks reddening as a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. "All that time we spent together goofing off and talking- and you were suffering in silence? You're so stupid, Sesshoumaru!"

His anguished face did not stir. Kagome mindlessly wiped away the dried blood from his chin with shaky fingers.

"There's no taking this back now," she said quietly, glancing at the bite mark. "So... I guess there's only one thing for it."

It sounded terrible, but Shinto was far from her mind as she lay a hand over her mating mark and began concentrating. When resolving to save someone, Kagome became bullheaded. Sesshoumaru was all she could see as her aura rose out from her body, seeping into his bloodstream via the bite marks.

"You need to wake up," she mumbled, using her free hand to adjust the parting of her white kosode. Sliding it off one shoulder to bare her flesh, Kagome remained heedless of the vines growing and curling around them. They seeped into her ebony hair, twining into the long locks like a lover's hands.

Kagome straddled the Daiyoukai, shuddering a little at being so close to his bare bones. She couldn't have sex with him, obviously, but she suspected it wasn't truly needed to complete the bond. Feeding her energy into his body, she bit her bottom lip. Sweat beaded on her brow.

She began to mumble and pray under her breath.

When her spiritual energy had spread through most his system, Kagome grit her teeth and hoped he'd forgive her. Laying one hand atop his rib-cage directly over his heart, she raised her voice.

"Wake up!"

A pulse of reiki shot out through her palm.

Sesshoumaru jerked beneath her. A ghastly, chocking noise escaped him. His head lolled to the side as he looked at her unseeingly, a trickle of blood welling from the corner of his pale mouth. Kagome quickly wrapped an arm around him, guiding his head to her shoulder.

"Bite down, Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered fiercely into his ear.

Sharp canines brushed her skin, causing a shiver. Wet flecks of blood accompanied it as he coughed. Whimpering with desperation, the miko curled trembling fingers into silver hair. She pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"Please- I want this." She'd do anything to save him. Besides that, a small, buried part of her felt strangely at peace with the action and its meaning. "Bite down!"

A blood-curdling snarl vibrated out from his open chest. Fangs sank deep into her shoulder. At once, dark, dominating youki burst through her system like a shot of adrenaline. Kagome gasped, back arching. It turned her heart into a burning star. Sesshoumaru's presence filled her until she practically burst at the seams. She distantly understood why youkai had sex before biting each other, reeling from it. The orgasm probably softened the intensity. Completion was something the mind could fathom, a release, the pooling of cum inside her.

This felt overwhelming. He was everywhere. His energy burned and licked, igniting and soothing her body like burning whisky.

Kagome felt the pinpricks of fresh tears in her eyes, overcome with a hurricane of emotions she couldn't quite name. She could feel his weakness. His exhaustion. The part of him tethered to her became a lifeline between them, feeding him the energy he'd lost.

Sesshoumaru's mouth peeled back from her flesh. He panted, sinking back. Kagome caught him about the shoulders, cradling him close.

A wave of tiredness sent her sinking down against him, lashes falling shut as dizziness spun her vision.

The last thing she saw before surrendering to the lure of unconsciousness was a canopy of Forget-me-nots surrounding their weary bodies.

----

Drowsy lids slowly cracked open- wincing at the setting sun's harsh orange light peeking out from between the trees. Golden eyes averted and Sesshoumaru stirred with a dusty rumble.

Something heavy lay over his bare chest. He lifted his head.

Kagome rested against his shoulder, dark hair spilling everywhere. Sesshoumaru stared, feeling he must be dreaming. They were laying within a clearing together, which looked clear, quiet and picturesque.

Squinting, he sat up, adjusting the woman against him. Kagome sank against his side, revealing a gaping hole in his flesh, exposing his rib-cage.

Ah, that's right.

The flowers. The vines spilling forth from his chest as blood asphyxiated him, making breathing impossible.

And Kagome...

The miko had come for him. Saved him.

Sesshoumaru ghosted stiff fingers over his mouth, dragging clawed nails down to the fresh bite mark branding his shoulder. He then shifted Kagome, running an aristocratic nose to similar marks adorning her shoulder- a tongue sliding out to drag over bloodied flesh. She tasted wonderful.

Kagome groaned and wrapped her arms around him tighter, burying her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru held her close and revelled in the sensation. However, he soon picked up on the far off shimmer of his barrier enclosing them within their mini safe space. He could sense Inuyasha waiting outside, along with Jaken.

Deciding to lower it, Sesshoumaru rested his lips against the crown of Kagome's head before drawing himself up to stand unsteadily, lifting her into his arms.

When Inuyasha burst into the clearing, leaves scattering and clinging to his thick white hair, he brandished Tetsusaiga, only to lower it with a raised brow.

Sesshoumaru stood clad in his hakama pants, arching a regal brow in return. He approached the hanyou and passed Kagome over wordlessly, ignoring his noise of surprise at the sight of his ribcage.

"It is healing," the demon dismissed.

"Uh, alright," Inuyasha grunted, supporting Kagome. "Should I even ask what the hell happened?"

Sesshoumaru ignored him in favour of looking at the miko. His shoulder ached, and when he drew back his heel with the intention to leave- a fresh wave of discomfort elicited a wince.

Kagome stirred, blue eyes blinking open. She then drew a hand out towards him, "where are you going?"

"This one is..." he trailed off. "I must..."

"No, you don't," she murmured. Patting Inuyasha's shoulder to prompt him to set her down, Kagome flashed her friend a smile. "Thanks for coming for me, but I need to stay with this impossible guy to make sure he heals alright."

Inuyasha eyed the bite mark on her shoulder, nostrils flaring. "You sure?"

Kagome nodded firmly.

"What do ya want me to tell Shinto if he asks where ya are?"

Guilt passed over her face, and blue eyes flicked away, before finding him again. "Just say I'm visiting another village. I need to tell him the truth myself."

Relenting, Inuyasha stepped away, shooting Sesshoumaru a warning look before reluctantly leaving them be again, feeling like the wind had been thoroughly knocked out of his sails.

The Daiyoukai watched her, stunned.

"It's crazy you're even up and walking around in your condition," Kagome rubbed at her forehead, reaching out and seizing frozen fingers. "Come on, let's find a cave to take shelter in for the night."

----

The demon lord stopped and slid unrelenting attention down to her once they reached the mouth of a cave. "What made you choose this place?"

"I dunno, it wasn't far away and it felt familiar," Kagome hummed, meeting his gaze. "Have we... used it before? In the past?"

Golden eyes cracked wider. "You remember?" he asked in a quiet, brittle tone.

She shook her head, "not at all. I just figured it out. Would've been nice if you'd told me," releasing his hand, she wandered inside, finding a bed of furs awaiting them further in, cracks of sunlight streaming in through holes in the rock ceiling. Her cheeks reddened a little, imagination running wild.

"You really scared me back there," she murmured, back turned to him. "I thought you were going to die."

"That is why you completed the mating," Sesshoumaru uttered. To save him, and for no other reason.

A part of him had hoped she'd remembered, but another had immediately recognised the sacrifice she'd made. Kagome was a selfless individual in the face of danger. If Inuyasha were dying, or any of her other friends, he wondered if she'd mate them if it meant saving their lives.

With a benevolence he did not truly feel, Sesshoumaru forced himself to prioritise her comfort. "If this is not something you wish for- there are ways of severing the bond."

"Stop," she grit out, whirling to face him. Flinty blue eyes took his breath away. "Stop lying all the time. I remember valuing your company and opinion because you were always so blunt with me. You never held back your opinions."

"I am not lying, there is a way to sever it."

"But that's not what you want! Damn it- you nearly died because you couldn't open your mouth! Just be honest for once and tell me how you're feeling, Sesshoumaru. What do YOU want?"

Energy lashed at the air, kicking up a breeze that caused dark hair to fly back. Hands closed over the back of her neck, cradling her skull. Lips were shoved against hers, smothering startled breath.

"You," Sesshoumaru breathed in a brief parting, kissing her fiercely again. His mouth slanted ardently over hers, the hint of a fang brushing her lips. "Is it not obvious I cannot abide anything but having you? Foolish woman, it is for your sake I held back. Once you submit, there is no escaping me."

Kagome gaped, unable to keep up with the sheer amount of heated kisses. Her hands settled over his arms, heat igniting her cheeks. She'd never received a kiss like it before and tentatively returned it. A small gasp and accompanying noise from him only confirmed to her how much he wanted it. She could feel the tension in his frame. He was holding back even now.

When he pulled away, she panted, thumb dragging over magenta cheek stripes. "Didn't that feel so much better than burying everything?" she teased weakly. "Even if I'd rejected you, surely that would've been better than regret- than nearly dying."

Sesshoumaru's gaze slid away. He then released a long sigh, clawed hands curling in her hair. "You seemed happy with the mercenary."

"Ex-mercenary," she corrected out of habit, leaning into his touch. "And I was. I like him. But..." Kagome looked at him. Really looked, and somehow it clicked that his face was the only one she wanted to wake up to in the mornings to follow. When had things gotten to that point? Had she wanted this while lazing on the riverbank with him so long ago? Things would've been so much more simple if she'd identified it sooner. If he'd said something.

How foolish they both were.

Stepping closer, she blushed and tilting her head back in order to ghost her lips over a firm jaw. "I like you more."

Power sparked her insides at the ensuing shudder he gave. "Mating entails more than 'liking' one another, miko. Can you deal with my extended company? Being mine?"

Kagome pretended to consider this. "For how long?"

His lips quirked. "Centuries. Possibly thousands of years."

"That's a long time," her eyes danced. "I guess I'm okay with that if you work on your communication skills."

He inclined his head gravely, dipping his nose into her hair and inhaling a lungful. It felt so good to have clear airways again.

"Sesshoumaru, there is something I want to ask you about; Why didn't you bite me? And what happened during that night I lost my memories?"

"I intended to, miko," he said with dark promise. Displeasure curled his lip. "You managed to bite me during climax. I do not think you understood the ramifications of it at the time. I would have reciprocated nonetheless. Unfortunately, my senses- brilliant as they are- sensed a disturbance in the forest. A herd of boar youkai were bolting towards your precious village."

He could scowl all he wanted about it, but Kagome knew of his attachment to Rin. No doubt they'd both wasted no further time in lovemaking and quickly made for the village.

"We fought them, tried to redirect them. You asked me to save a boy that had fallen during the village's impromptu evacuation. Naturally, I did so- but it meant leaving you alone."

Kagome winced. Her hand found the back of her head, remembering waking to a sizable bump and stitches. "They got me, huh?"

"One struck you down," Sesshoumaru uttered with a weary tone. "I did not know where you were, as we had become separated in the chaos. When I eventually found you... the mercenary was nursing your wounds."

"I remember," she said gently. A stab of sympathy clenched her heart. Stroking a hand down his bicep, she sighed. "That must've been awful, to lose me so soon after almost completing the mating. I didn't realise, didn't recall our relationship. I greeted you so casually and didn't get why you were lingering around in his hut."

"The fault is not yours," Sesshoumaru rested large hands possessively on her hips.

Kagome glanced at him, squinting. "Neither is it yours," she pressed her fingers to his lips when he opened his mouth. "Nope! Not yours. I wouldn't have wanted you to prioritise guarding me that night. If you had, that boy you saved might've lost his life. Besides, I can usually take care of myself. They caught me on a bad day."

The two fell into silence. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, resting thin lips against the crown of her head while Kagome leaned carefully against him.

"I find it weird that we've had a whole conversation while you have a massive hole in your chest. At least I can't see your whole ribcage like before. Seems like the skin and muscle are repairing," she mumbled.

"It will heal quickly," he dismissed, palms gliding over her back.

Kagome made a soft noise, basking in his warmth. "It's also weird that this feels so natural to me," she lifted her head, catching his eye. "I might not remember us. Ever. So just... promise me you won't search for my past self in me. I've been through that before."

He swept her down into the furs, covering her form with his own. "Hn, we will live in the present."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she sank into the soft, comforting furs. Her heart fluttered, stomach jumping. "Thank you."

A silver curtain of hair blocked out their surroundings as Kagome pulled him closer, both mindful of his injury. She smiled, searching his gaze and slowly delivering a sweet kiss to his lips.

Sesshoumaru let out a long sigh of relief, their foreheads meeting.

"Hey, on the bright side..." Kagome gave him a cheeky grin. "I get to experience my 'first time' with you again."

Astonishment painted his features. A simmering, darkly satisfied look soon replaced it, transforming his face into something more raw and honest. Kagome accepted his anticipation, his hunger, not dissuading him from it. She endeavoured to encourage even more displays of emotion from him.

"You don't need to hold back," she murmured, accepting his searing kiss. "Tell me everything you've wanted to say to me since losing my memory. I don't mind."

Their energies twined once more, and the miko hooked her leg over his hip to anchor him against her without any seductive intentions. She merely wanted him close, and Sesshoumaru did not argue, burying closer to her the second he healed. Skin met skin, noses brushing.

In the hush that followed, Sesshoumaru took his lips to her ear and began talking.

End

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #Inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #Sesshoumaru

[crimsonrae]

Reckless Intent: Part Two

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Some manhandling, allusions to nudity.

A/N: Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years. So this is more from Sherlock’s point of view and I had fun with this, because despite how intelligent he is, I think that he would still be lost to a woman’s way of thinking or reacting. Also there will be a part three. A culmination if you will of all my teasing : )

Reckless Intent: Part Two

It had taken more time than he would have liked to get the bestial efflux that had swarmed his blood to calm.  

Sherlock pulled a long-drawn breath through his nose as he silently counted the seconds until a certain menace in the shape of woman appeared by his side. Never had he met someone who could stir his anger so easily. She made him want to rage, to shake her until sense fell into that cob she called a mind. How she could incite him with just a few well-placed words was boggling.  

Yet, images of Delia on that stage danced before his eyes as he waited outside the club. The hint of cleavage through the feathers of her fan, the shapely curve of her thigh... Lust had seared his veins at the unexpected display of her womanly assets. His palms had itched with the need to cup her silky flesh, to leave his mark on her unblemished hide, and pull the most melodic notes of pleasure from her dainty throat. His manhood had hardened with a demand that only her tempting hole could satisfy.

And had they been alone?  

Had the ravenous stares and drunken jeering of the swine inside not been present... he would have taken her there on that staged. He would have answered her teasing seduction, shown her what happened when such a flag was waved before a bull.  

But they hadn’t been alone. He wasn’t the only one to gaze upon her bare flesh and that was unforgivable. Fury still spurned his veins, only the remembrance of their kiss tempered his lingering ire.

Sherlock bit back a groan as he tried to ignore the memory of the delightful contrast of her wired nest against her smooth skin and her heat... his fingers had been brushed by her desirous warmth, had felt the hint of her promising dewy depths. He marveled that he hadn’t sunk into her depths there and then. Her protest to his advances had been meek at best. There was no doubt in his mind that his Delia was a wanton... but she was his wanton. It was high time that he made his claim known.

He would not tolerate another incident such as this.

His fingers flexed and tightened over the head of his cane, releasing the frustrated bur that Delia so expertly pricked in him. It wouldn’t do to walk the streets with an erection like an adolescent boy. As if she knew his struggle, Delia appeared at his elbow only to add oil to his smoldering flame. Her frock covered little more of her chest than her stage attire.  

His nostrils flared with annoyance. Even her hair was still unrestrained, her curls falling loose about her shoulders, “That was longer than ten minutes.”

Delia arched a brow at him, unimpressed by his dour reproach, “Yet, you didn’t come back for me. You should be pleased.”

His glare was glacial, but she refused to simper –stubborn mule of a woman.  

Sherlock snatched her elbow before she had a chance to send another volley. The firm grip teetered on the edge of impropriety, but it was hardly the most improper act that either one of them had committed so far. He nudged her forward, refusing to speak further until they were away from this infernal club.

Luckily, Delia took the hint as she adjusted her arm in his grip and fell into step. It wasn’t lost on him that she had quickly masked the aggressive undertones of their current meeting. It no longer looked as if he were dragging an unruly woman through the street but had taken to escorting a potential paramour. Strangely, they fell somewhere in between the two paradigms.

They swept down the dimly lit streets with marked silence. He, still simmering, unwilling to vent his anger where it could be heard by the restless populace of London and she – he darted a glance to his companion – she was remarkably stoic. Her features serene as if nothing was amiss, but the darkened hue to her cheeks and the tense set to her jaw belied her discomfort... or perhaps her anticipation.  

Sherlock wasn’t sure which beset her and ignored the little voice in his ear that whispered it was the later. He had decided long before he had exited the club that his baser urges would be denied that night. Far more pressing concerns needed to be addressed before he conducted any further intimate explorations of her body.

As if she knew where his thoughts had led, Delia smirked dimly as he prodded her up the steps to his apartments. He wanted nothing more than to steal that smile from her face and it wasn’t until the door clicked firmly shut that he began his attack, “Have you lost your damn mind? Did you even for one minute think about what would happen to you in that place?”

“Sherlock -”

“No.” He continued as if he hadn't heard her, “You didn’t. You’re lucky I was there – that I even had an inkling to show up. Else wise you would’ve ended up like your friend or worse on your back -”

SMACK.

Fire laced up the side of his face as he felt the imprint of her palm reverberate through the bone of his cheek. Glowering he turned back to her and found Delia torn between shock at her actions and indignant.

Her breath came fast as she spat, “You are not my keeper, Sherlock Holmes. If you’re not going to discuss this case, say so now and I will take my leave.”

Sherlock smiled grimly, “Oh, I am taking the case, Delia. I’ve said as much already. And you’re right, I’m not your keeper. I’m far more than that and you will acknowledge it before the night is over.”

“How dare you!” Indignation seemed to have won out in his little menace as she hissed, “To make such assumptions based on one measly kiss... I would think such acts beneath you. Impervious king that you are.”

Volatile.  

Rash.  

Words that could be used to describe both of them in that moment, Sherlock noted distantly. He fought to keep a hold of his temper. He had pushed her tonight and she had already been walking a tightrope by going undercover in that club. He shouldn’t be surprised that the bewilderment and anger she had carefully kept under lock and key had been released now.  

However, he was sure that he had made his intentions clear long before his stolen kiss, in fact he was sure of it. A resounding crack echoed through the foyer, stunning both occupants as the head of Sherlock’s cane fell from its body. He hadn’t realized how tightly he had been gripping the implement or even that he was still holding it.  

He cast the ruin staff aside with a barely contained growl, “One measly kiss?”

He prowled forward like a stalking jaguar, “Is that what you think I based my assumptions on?”

Delia, to her credit, did not cower from him as she lifted her chin defiantly, “I think you saw naked flesh and responded as all men do.”

Again, Sherlock wondered if she could read minds. Hadn’t his thoughts dwelled upon her wicked display before she had arrived at his side? But she was very mistaken if she thought that his reaction was merely a result of her dance... No, his interest in Delia Woodson had started long before this night.

“Blue myosotis.”  

Delia blinked, her confusion apparent by his pointed delineation, “Pardon?”

“Blue myosotis.” Sherlock repeated definitively, “Or more commonly – forget-me-nots. You pinned them to my lapel three months, one week, and two days ago. After that murdered child was found by the docks. I was upset, but you...you were the only one to notice. You saw through the impassivity that I had carefully cultivated to keep myself detached.”  

He refused to use the word impervious.

His voice grew soft, “You pinned the flower to my lapel and said, ‘It’s a small token, Mr. Holmes, but colorful – bright. You need a little of that I think.’ I knew I loved you then.... and the flower you chose? More than appropriate for that realization. I doubt you knew but forgot-me-not's represent true love.”  

Stricken with shock, Delia could only gape at the unexpected confession, “I - Sherlock.”

“So, yes, Delia. I am far more than your keeper.” He continued stoutly, daring her to interrupt, to protest his words, “And not yet your lover, but that state will be rectified soon enough I’d wager. And no, our kiss had little to do with your irreverent show, though I do wish it had been under different circumstances, I don’t regret it.”

He could see her floundering. By not hiding from the truth, nor ignoring his earlier actions he had stripped bare any defensive armor she had managed to cobble together in their brief time apart. And he had finally acknowledge the elephant that he had been alluding to all night. He didn’t need to hear the words reciprocated – he knew she felt the same, though she hadn’t realized it until he had accosted her in that club. He had seen the moment she comprehended where her affections laid.

His hand came up to grasp her chin as he made sure that he fully held her attention, “And such antics will not occur ever again. I won’t stand for it and your bottom won’t sit for it, should you attempt such an act.”

Her eyes widened at his pointed threat, knowing he was serious her defiance flickered at him. Sherlock nearly grumbled. Why did he have to fall in love with the most obtuse woman on the bloody planet?

“This...” She drew a calming breath and laced her delicate fingers over the top his that still grasped her chin, “This is not talk of the case.”

Dull amusement laced through him at her poor deflection, but he took his cue and drew back a step, “I garnered several leads while you were performing. I’ll be able to more thoroughly investigate tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten about your Margaret.”  

“What leads?”

Sherlock shook his head in the face of her hungry interest. She had taken far too many risks as it were for this case, “No. You want me to take this case and investigate? Then my price is that you stay out of it.”

“But -”

“You were reckless tonight.” Sherlock vented, his anger rising back to the top. She hadn’t seen the men that had watched her – followed her, but he had. Not all of her audience had been lustful brigands. His little menace had made no secret of her inquiry into her friend’s death, “Purposefully, I’m certain.”

Her lip jutted out temptingly and he nearly cracked a smile in the face of her pout, “She’s my friend, Sherlock. Surely, I deserve to know – to help.”    

“You will stay out of it. That’s my price – take it or leave it, Delia.” He stated resoundingly, unwilling to budge on this point. He would fill her in once he had solved the crime and the murderer was being carted off by Scotland Yard, but not a second before that occurred.

Delia huffed as she dared ask, “And if I refuse and continue to investigate on my own?”

Sherlock stiffened at her challenge as he raised an unimpressed brow and smiled thinly, “Oh, I dare you to try. You won’t make it out that door, I can promise you that.”

“I have to leave some time; I don’t live here.” She muttered lowly, after all he only had just started his investigation.

“Yet.” Sherlock returned arrogantly as he stepped towards the stairs, “Mrs. Hudson!”

The shadow of his housekeeper appeared at the top of the stairs within seconds. He had no doubt that she had heard every word passed between himself and Delia, but ever discreet the matronly woman had waited until he beckoned. Draped in her robe and bonnet, he felt a stirring of guilt for having disturbed her slumber with his return, but even still as she blandly met his stare – he couldn’t help the mischievous spark that entered his mien.

“Please ready the guestroom. Miss. Woodson will be staying here tonight.” Loathe as he was to have her out of his sight, Sherlock knew they needed space. Too much had occurred in a sort time span and to be perfectly frank he needed a moment away from the weight of her presence. He needed to recoup.  

“That’s not necessary.” Delia started softly.

Sherlock barely contained a weary sigh, “It’s late and I’m not in the mood to escort you back to Hoxton.”

She blinked, bemusement once again piercing her features, “How did you know - ?”

Sherlock didn’t deign to answer. To say he wasn’t thrilled that she lived in such a horrid area was a vast understatement, but he had to admit that it was a step above White Chapel and far better than Old Nichol. Another situation he would soon need to rectify.

“I’ll have warm water brought to your room.” He said instead, “Rest. We’ll speak more in the morning when calmer heads prevail.”

Delia stared at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher but found that the calm he had just manage to reclaim was rapidly deteriorating. His heart lurched and the familiar itch to his palms returned as she stepped back into his sphere.

“Delia...”

“You followed me. You accosted me. Kissed me. Protected me. Took a case that is boring just to make me happy -”

“Keep you out of trouble -”

“Told me that you love me.” She continued as if he hadn’t spoken and soundly shut him up. 

Delia smiled then. A small smile, but so bright before she leant up on her toes and claimed a kiss so gentle that it stole his breath.

Unconsciously, his fingers latched into the folds of her gown as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. The supple swell of her lips felt like silk under the brush of his tongue. She tasted sweet, like honey and tea. She moaned lowly and a pleased growl rumbled through his chest at the sound.

They must have stood like that for only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.  

Delia, as tenderly as she had approached him, broke away again and started up the stairs. Sherlock could only watch after her dazed. 

She paused halfway up and glanced at him over her shoulder, “And you send me to the guestroom? You’re an odd man, Sherlock Holmes.”

She disappeared over the landing and Sherlock was left in stunned amusement. He had half a mind to go after her. Her teasing knew no bounds it seemed... but despite her words, he knew she was virginal, and he planned to take his time divesting her of that chaste state.

However, he should have known that Delia had no such patience...

Damn her.

Previous Chapter

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmesxofc #enola holmes #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Broken, battered, and beautiful-chapter 2

if you haven’t go check out chapter 1

 “Oh hi.” even in the privacy of her own home elain was clothed in a fine dress made of satin, the color of sunflowers with a high neckline. Gwyn tried to muster up embarrassment for her own plain outfit that most definitely could have been mistaken for sleep wear, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.  

“Hello, um I wanted to come by to say thank you for the other day.” Gwyn felt awkward and uncomfortable, this female had done nothing to wrong her and yet it was difficult to let the protective and territorial instincts go. Azriel was not hers, it was a mantra she replayed in her mind over and over. The words a double edge sword encouraging her to move on with a torturous truth. 

“It’s no worry, I never would have left you on the ground at night” elain smiled warmly, “and besides nesta would have my head if something had happened to you.” gwyn gave her a tight smile, the most she could force herself to manage. 

They stood in an unpleasant silence, the only sound being the soft anxious tapping of gwyns hand on her thigh, a nervous tick she had yet to break. thankfully after a couple dreadfully long seconds elain spoke, “would you like to come in?” 

Gwyn let out a sigh of relief and gave a slight nod of her head. She then followed Elain into her home. As Gwyn's eyes roamed the place she felt as if she had stepped into the spring court, or what it used to look like, she supposed from what Feyre had told her about its current state. 

Elain must have noticed her curious glance at the windows stretching from ceiling to floor with the sun blazing through them, “when I was looking for an apartment I wanted as much sunlight as possible,” she paused to reposition one of her many many plants. “For me” she paused once again, taking in the almost overwhelming amount of blossoms. “And the flowers. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a slight obsession with greenery.” 

“Slight is a modest term.” gwyn noted. She laughed. The sound was sweet and full and covered the room in a joy that could not be masked. Gwyn wished she could say she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that, but she had. Darkness coated the once joyous memorie, infecting it with anger and malice. Pain was soon to follow but Gwyn shoved it down, pressing a lid on her emotions, better to feel nothing at all then the heartbreak of what she had lost.

Elain quickly picked up a few scattered papers on her table and pulled out a seat for gwyn. “Would you like some tea? Emerie gave me a few samples but I haven’t had the chance to try them yet.” 

“I would recommend the strawberry green tea, personally I think it’s her best, though most of them are… editable.” 

She raised an eyebrow “most?”

“Well for Emerie's sake I’ll let you form your own opinions but between you and me, I’d keep a safe distance from the lemon ginger.” 

Elain looked amused. “I will keep that in mind.” 

gwyn watched as elain made the tea quietly humming to herself. She set down the cup in front of her, “one strawberry green tea.” Gwyn gave a nod of gratitude before quickly realizing that that was a poor response. God had she lost her manners along with her dignity. 

“Thank you.” 

Once again silence fell over them, the conversation they had both known gwyn had come for hung in the air, hovering, waiting for a moment to strike. But Gwyn had made a promise to Catrin, a promise to her found sisters, and a promise to herself that she would be brave. 

“What happened between you and azriel?” she blurted. Elain took a deep breath before answering, everything about her expression and posture, unsurprised by the question. 

“In order to really understand, I would have to start from the beginning. Are you positive you want to hear the truth?”

No. yes. No.  She did not want to hear, she desperately did not want to hear but she had to know. “Yes.” 

Elain nodded, “It’s been about four years since I became fae and the subject still isn’t my-favorite, but four years ago I was engaged to a man named grayson. Looking back he was truly dreadful and a little bit of a tool. But I was in love, or.” Elain’s cheeks flushed slightly. “what I thought was love. He truly hated the fae and when I became the one thing he hated more than he loved me, his love quickly became fear and his fear fueled his hatred. I was dependent on others, in more ways than one. And with my world being literally and figuratively turned upside down, the one person who was supposed to love and support me through it all, abandoned me without hesitation. Although the argument could be made that I was coddled my entire life and this was a much needed wake up call.” Elain paused, letting out a shaky breath. 

“If this is too difficult for you we can stop.” As much as Gwyn needed to hear this story she would not force Elain to relive her trauma. 

“I owe it to you and to my sister to avoid bad blood between us and if telling you this story is what it takes, then that is the least I can do.” She took a sip of her tea. “Now I knew I had just lost who I thought was the love of my life and then I was forced into the hands of another.” 

Her stepbrother, she thought. “Lucien.” 

“Yes,” elain smiled fondly. “He was my breaking point. All I wanted was to collapse into myself, to pretend that I was still human. But with him I couldn't. He was a walking reminder of everything I hated about myself. The only thing that haunted me more than him was my own reflection. I thought that if I avoided him I could ignore the magnetic pull that drew me to him.” She looked down and bit her lip. “Denial was a personal favorite of mine.” 

Gwyn raised her eyebrows. “I can tell.” she watched as color flooded her cheeks and Gwyn's lips twitched. 

“But it was proving to be a little more difficult than I had expected. And then there was this dark, attractive male who seemed to be intrigued by me. He was kind and he was there so I forced myself to believe I had genuine feelings for him, that I desperately wanted him.” Gwyn's stomach lurched but she forced it down. “He was a perfect distraction, there were these small moments where our fingers would brush or I would find him looking at me as if he desired me. I needed so badly to believe that this was what I wanted and yet I felt nothing. I thought that becoming fae had broken me. I made up my mind that if I kissed him, the feeling I craved would come. So at solstice, when I knew there was no way for him to avoid me, I gave myself an opening and waited until after dinner to give him his gift. He gave me a necklace and kissed my neck. We were moments away from, well you know, when he left very suddenly. I was confused and a little bit hurt and I still felt nothing. So I followed him, and well” elain let out a bitter laugh. “Let's just say Azriel said some rude things.” 

Gwyn’s face was one of constant shock as elain told her the shadowsinger’s conversation with the high lord of the night court. “The only thing he could say about you was Three Brothers, Three Sisters?!?”. 

“Yep.” 

“He thought he was entitled to you because his brothers were mated to your sisters?!? Even though you had a mate??” 

“Exactly” 

“And you guys were so not on the same page, you guys weren’t even in the same gods damn book.” 

She laughed. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t communicate.” Gwyn's thoughts were a cage of her own making, one she couldn’t escape. She was outraged on behalf of elain, how dare azriel make some sort of claim on her, she was not a toy to be passed around. But she couldn’t help but think first Mor than Elain, what the hell was she to him? Had it all been a game of pretty words and sweet lies? Was she just one of many? 

“Anyway, I decided that the distraction wasn’t worth putting myself through whatever was going on with him so I gave him back the necklace. I assume that he saw you sometime that night or in the next few days because I saw you with the necklace a couple weeks later. I know that I did not have the right to be upset considering I gave it back but, for me, it confirmed that my decision was the right one.” 

Azriel had, in fact, come to her that night Gwyn thought back to solstice 2 years ago. It was the first time she had been alone with him, It was the first time she'd been alone with any male since.

 “Azriel and I barely spoke or interacted since solstice when a couple weeks ago, when I was shopping in town I saw him so drunk he could barely walk. I’d seen him with you a couple times and it seemed like he had changed so I went to go help him and he tried to kiss me. I slapped him and walked away. The next day he came by my apartment and begged me not to tell you. I told him I owe him nothing and closed the door in his face.”. She didn’t owe Gwyn anything either and yet she still defended her. “I then told Nesta what had happened and asked her to tell you.” elain took another sip of tea. “I thought it would have been better if it came from her.” 

Gwyn watched elain, even doing something as mundane as drinking her tea, in this house, she looked more peaceful and in her element as she had ever seen her. Gwyn was also positive this was the most she had ever heard her talk and despite a part of her still wanting to rip her head off, she was grateful for the female and she was sympathetic for what she had gone through, and she was embarrassed for not seeing this side of azriel. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A puzzled look graced elain’s face. “What for?”

“For what you went through, for whatever part I played in your pain.” she chuckled at that. 

“You did nothing wrong, besides if anyone should be apologizing it should be me.” 

Gwyn snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“How about it should be azriel apologizing to the both of us.”

“Deal”

elain looked out the window. “Oh speaking of solstice, I have to do my gift shopping.” she glanced at Gwyn, something in her gaze she couldn’t detect, maybe pity, maybe spite from an old grudge, maybe it was genuine, maybe a mix. Whatever it was made her ask, “would you like to come with me?”

And even if it was pity or spite, even if all elain saw was a broken toy in need of saving, she said “yes.”

tagging: @stars-and-scripts  @valkygwyn @em---r @whereisvaughan @purplecherrypie @lattristantketchup @bookish-isha @meher-sumedha @jennysofoldstone @ratabrasileira 

#gwynlain #gwyn berdara #elain archeron #let me know if you want to be tagged or removed #gwynriel #elucien #I'm not going to lie I kind of enjoy shitting on azriel

[flowercrown-bard]

A little gift for the lovely @thingr2  <3 I hope you have a most wonderful day, friend

word count: about 2.5k

ship: Geraskier

summary: Geralt receives flowers from a secret admirer. What a stupid gift to give him. (modern au/ flowershop au)

Roses and Cornflowers

Geralt’s face is a stone mask as he stares at his doorstep, only cracking the tiniest bit when he bent down to pick up the bouquet, just as he had done almost every day since he had moved to this town to open his new shop almost two months ago.

“A gift from a secret admirer,” Lambert had called it with a shit-eating grin when Geralt had been stupid and drunk enough to tell his brothers about the flowers he kept finding on the doorsteps of his shop.

Eskel had rolled his eyes at Lambert but then he had shrugged and said that that wasn’t the worst start to living in a new place.

No, Geralt supposed for most people -unlike him - receiving flowers would be a nice thing. But then again, most people - unlike him - didn’t own flowershops.

Why would anyone give flowers to a florist? What had started out as something Geralt might even be looking forward to, if he were completely honest with himself, had started to become an annoyance. At this point, it must clearly be some kind of stupid joke.

With a scoff he went inside, almost tempted to just throw the bouquet into the bin, but putting them away in a vase at the last moment against his better judgement, before setting up the shop for the day. Though his movements came with practiced precision, his eyes and mind wandered back to the bouquet again.

Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. Though it was mainly made up of buttercups, cornflowers and other complimentary flowers – or weeds rather - bouquets were far too expensive to buy one every day for such a long time just to make fun of someone. Maybe the ‘admirer’ just thought that as a florist Geralt would appreciate flowers all the more?

And perhaps he would – he certainly knew how to appreciate good work – if it didn’t mean that whoever got him the flowers must be buying them at the only other flower shop in town that oh so conveniently had his shop just across the street from him. As far as romantic gestures went, supporting his rival was about the worst thing an admirer could do.

It wasn’t as if the other shop wasn’t already thriving and luring in all the customers Geralt might have gotten if the other shop wasn’t there.

If you wanted to call it a flower shop, that is.

Wish upon a Dandelion was not what Geralt would call professional. Though he had to begrudgingly admit that there was a certain craft to the way the flowers were arranges and the florist undeniably had an eye for colours, his choice of flowers was atrocious.

No respectable florist would even think about selling wildflowers and weeds and as if that wasn’t already enough, Geralt’s rival put them on the same shelf as roses and other normal flowers.

Then again, Jaskier didn’t seem like the kind of person who put much value into being respectable. Too openly was he toeing the line of what was an acceptable amount of friendliness between him and his customers, as far as Geralt could see through the window.

Not that Geralt knew much about how to treat customers correctly. Maybe he would, if Jaskier didn’t prevent them all from coming into his shop.

It didn’t matter how much care Geralt put into arranging the flowers in the display window and how hard he worked to keep his flowers in perfect shape, barely anyone even grazed his shop with so much as a glance.

And why would they? He too would rather go to the man with the bright smile and warm blue eyes that crinkled beautifully when he talked about his flowers. Anyone who met Jaskier even once would want to see him again.

Geralt should know. Ever since Jaskier had strolled into his shop on the day he had first opened, welcoming him into the street and asking about Geralt, he had found himself wishing he would come in here again, despite his ridiculous choice in flowers.

But Geralt wasn’t stupid enough to think he would ever see more of Jaskier again than the glimpses he caught through the window. He had made sure of that when he had done nothing but grunt and stare at Jaskier in the way that Lambert always said intimidated people. Sure enough, Jaskier’s face had fallen and left the shop, never to return again. And apart from the times he waved over at Geralt when they closed shops at the same time, he didn’t show any sign of wanting to speak with Geralt again.

Geralt pretended that he wasn’t disappointed.

Just like he pretended that he didn’t feel a strange pang in his chest whenever he saw how other people earned Jaskier’s easy smiles and charming words that Geralt so stupidly had rejected.

Hell, even his ‘secret admirer’ probably got to feel those brilliant smiles on him.

The thought made Geralt pause.

No one, absolutely no one would admire Geralt if they also knew Jaskier.

He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed at the realisation. He had never wanted an admirer. Not some stranger at least. He shouldn’t care if the person who got him the flowers was doing so as a backwards way of saying that everyone preferred Jaskier’s shop and that Geralt wasn’t wanted here. But whatever reason the gifter had to mock Geralt, it hurt that they were doing so by using Jaskier’s flowers.

He knew the sudden anger that boiled up inside him was irrational, but that didn’t stop him from abandoning his tasks.

He acted without thinking, grabbing peonies, roses and lilies – flowers that actually belonged in flower shops – in a bouquet. Before he could think this through, he was storming out of his shop and across the street.

The bells above the door chimed as Geralt marched into the Wish upon a Dandelion and Jaskier’s eyes snapped up at him, making Geralt’s breath hitch. For the briefest moment, the typical smile on Jaskier’s face froze when his eyes fell on Geralt, before they darted down to the flowers in his hand and the smile inexplicably brightened.

“Geralt,” he said and somehow managed to sound excited, “what are you doing here?”

Without ceremony, Geralt slammed the bouquet on the counter, inwardly flinching at his own harsh movement. “Teaching you how bouquets work.”

Jaskier let out a startled laugh. “What?”

“I don’t know what game is being played here, but you don’t put weeds in a bouquet for someone you want to talk to.” He pointed at the bouquet he had brought. “This is what you give someone if you have romantic intentions.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, if I had known you didn’t like those kinds of flowers I wouldn’t have put them in there,” Jaskier said softly, fingers twitching.

“It’s something all florists should know. If you’re going to ruin my business and my day, at least do it with flowers that belong in a bouquet. And tell whoever if getting those flowers for me that I don’t want them.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was painfully small and his eyes were everywhere but on Geralt. “You really dislike them that much?”

The quiet question was like a punch in the gut. As if a tight had snapped, all tension left Geralt in an instant.

He rubbed a hand down his face and groaned.

“No, they…I don’t dislike them. They are fine.” He sighed and looked away. “I just don’t like getting them. You…the colours are nice.”

Even out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the way Jaskier’s face morphed from crestfallen to an expression that could rival the sun.

“Thank you! I had hoped you’d like the colours. The buttercups do look a bit like your eyes, don’t they? Though of course not quite as pretty. It’s really hard to find the perfect flower to match the colour. It’s a shame there are no golden flowers.”

Geralt huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, it’s easy for you. Your eyes really look exactly like cornflowers.”

Even as he said those words, his mind came to a screeching halt. No. It couldn’t be. His brows drew together as he searched Jaskier’s face for something, any sign that he hadn’t gotten this all wrong. “Jaskier? Did you -?”

“I’m sorry,” the words rushed out of Jaskier’s mouth and Geralt’s stomach twisted as a panicked look replaced Jaskier’s smile.

“Why?” It was too much. It couldn’t possibly be Jaskier. Because if it was, then that would mean that Geralt wouldn’t have to hope for a chance to meet those blue eyes through a window or that he wouldn’t be gifted with Jaskier’s breathtaking smile again.

“I swear I didn’t know you don’t like getting the bouquets. If I had known I would have stopped – I will stop -”

Geralt’s blood ran cold at the words, but his mouth couldn’t form any words, didn’t even know what he wanted to say, except that this was all wrong, that he didn’t mind getting the bouquets from Jaskier, that he was the only one he would want to get them from.

“I just… you always seemed kind of alone,” Jaskier said, wincing at his own words, “and you are new here and I know how hard it can be to make friends, so I thought that maybe… but I will stop.”

Before Geralt could even open his mouth to protest, to explain, to say something, the bells chimed again and the palpable relief on Jaskier’s face as he turned away from Geralt and towards the customer made Geralt’s heart clench.

It was more than obvious that Jaskier didn’t want to be alone with him right now and Geralt could more than understand it. Without saying another word, Geralt turned back and left, going back to his own shop where the last bouquet he would get from Jaskier stood lonely on the counter.

--

Jaskier heaved a heavy sigh as he walked down the street to open the shop for the day, already dreading the day to come.

Yesterday, he had done his best to keep smiling and making his customers welcome, but it was damn near impossible after his talk with Geralt – and the unmistakable rejection. He had done his best to keep himself busy, but he had found his mind drifting time and time again to what kind of bouquet to make Geralt next, before reality mercilessly came crashing down on him again.

Rejection was nothing new to him, of course. It was kind of a given when you fell in love fast and hard, any yet Jaskier had been foolish enough to hope that maybe if he sent Geralt enough flowers, they could at the very least become amicable shop neighbours. When he had seen through the window how Geralt put each of his bouquets into a vase, he had thought that maybe they could even be friends. Any yesterday, for a beautiful moment as he had seen Geralt come in, a bouquet of the most beautiful roses in hand, he had hoped that –

He should have known better.

The only consolation Jaskier had was that Geralt had forgotten to take his bouquet back with him as he had practically stormed out of his shop. At least, Jaskier had something to take home with him. At least the flowers had allowed him to pretend even if just for a little bit that Geralt’s hadn’t rejected him as harshly as he had.

But, well, the fact that Jaskier wasn’t at his typical early hour at the shop already, preparing the newest arrangement to put on Geralt’s doorstep before he arrived was all the reminder that his little fantasy of charming Geralt was over.

He dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration, just as he reached his shop.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

It couldn’t be. Geralt wouldn’t –

Every so slowly, as if it might still turn out to be a dream, Jaskier crouched down to pick up the flowers laying on his doorstep, caressing them carefully, not daring to even breath.

The sound of a door falling shut behind him, made Jaskier turn.

And there he was. Standing in front of his flower shop stood Geralt, looking somewhat insecure and uncomfortable as he caught Jaskier’s eye.

Jaskier froze, not knowing what to do, but as he lingered at the door shifting his weight from one foot to the other and clutching the flowers tightly, Geralt started to move.

Jaskier’s eyes widened and his heart was hammering in his chest, as Geralt walked up to him, slowly as if he wanted to give Jaskier the chance to unlock his door and flee into the Dandelion if he wanted.

He didn’t.

For some inexplicable reason, Geralt must not have excepted him to stay, for when he reached Jaskier he didn’t open his mouth, just looking at Jaskier with a look in his eyes that made it hard to breath.

He swallowed thickly.

“You know,” Jaskier said, cracking a hesitant smile, “this isn’t a good bouquet to give someone you don’t want to talk to.”

Red heat crept up Geralt’s cheeks and his eyes darted to the side before landing back on Jaskier.

“And what about giving them to say that I am sorry and that I would very much like to talk with this someone again?”

Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry. “Yeah, that…that would be a good bouquet.”

He bit his lip, knowing he was pushing his luck, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. “But I would also say that the roses, peonies and lilies might be sending a bit of a wrong message still. I’ve been told they would be used for something a bit more romantic.”

For an agonizingly long moment, Geralt said nothing. When he finally opened his mouth again, a tentative but hopeful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“If…if that were the message I wanted to send, would you accept the flowers?”

The smile that spread over Jaskier’s face was so wide that threatened to hurt his cheeks. “I would, if I were allowed to give you flowers in return.”

Something like astonishment shone in Geralt’s eyes.

“I missed your bouquet today,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier said, pleasant warmth spreading through his chest. “My bouquets might not be quite as romantic, but I will make you as many as you like. Who knows, maybe I’ll even learn how to make proper bouquets with the right help,” he added with a wink.

The shy smile on Geralt’s face turned into something radiant. “Your arrangements are already perfect.” He hesitated, before adding, “But cornflowers are my favourite.”

#it's a little rushed #once again i didn't edit because i wanted to go to bed two hours ago #but i hope you like it nontheless #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #witcher #witcher fanfic #witcher fic #flower shop au #modern au #jaskier #geralt #why have one flowershop in your fic when you can have two? #i know absolutely nothign about flowers #which doesn't mean i won't put them into every single thing i write #my writing

[vegalocity]

Reunited (Red Groom AU)

This is the part where you guys realize i'm not going in chronological order and am probably just gonna do the scenes i like

but like who cares right that just means we're skipping to the good stuff

Also i combined the battle of wits and the Reuniting scene bc this is my AU and i do what i want

--

In a cruel turn of fate, when the Spider Queen stood alone between him and his most hated foe, the Red Prince wished he still had either the large blue fellow or the dragon with them still. At least the two of them were slightly more amenable to him. And maybe while they couldn't be persuaded to take these wretched restraining cuffs from his wrists they at least were better conversational partners than the half mad Spider Queen.

Tethered to the spider woman as he was at the time, when she began to mutter aloud to herself about trying to lose the Monkey King over a secret way, he had no choice but to follow as she dragged him off of the forest path and into a clearing. He'd assumed she'd gone mad, but before he could voice such opinions she'd spun a quick web and used it to blind and gag him. She'd activated the damned cuffs and finding himself unable to move on his own, he could only comply.

He could rely on naught but his hearing as the Spider Queen dragged him across the open plain and forced him to sit upon what felt to be a long felled tree trunk. He heard her arrange things with the shift and clang of cloth and metal, and soon enough he heard approaching footsteps.

One of her pointed legs pressed up underneath him, the tip just grazing where his chin met his neck.

“So, Monkey King, it's down to you and I once again.” She purred and he let out a shout of rage at finally finally being so close to the monkey who'd taken away his everything but unable to move or even look upon the face of that wretched foe.

“-By all means if you want the prince dead, come closer.” The point of the Spider Queen's leg pressed a little harder against him.

“Give me a moment, let me explain-” The Monkey King started, tense and rough and possessing none of the cocky lit his father had described it as in the stories he'd heard-

“There's nothing to explain!” The Spider Queen crowed. “You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen!”

“Per...haps an arrangement can be reached?” Why did the Monkey King even want him enough to not have grown bored and moved on? Some sort of assumed loyalty to his father? As if he'd go anywhere with the monster that had taken his-

No. Stop. Stop thinking about it, now's not the time.

The Spider Queen thought so too, he felt a small prick on his neck as she broke the skin there just a bit he let out a muffled yelp in surprise as she grabbed his arm for better leverage. “There will be none. And if you do not wish to bring a corpse back to his family you will remain where you are.”

The Monkey King's voice wavered, and for a moment it sounded afraid... and almost familiar-... No. don't you dare compare him to the monkey who killed him.

“Well... if no arrangement can be made, this is quite the impasse we've reached.”

“I would say so. If you went about swinging that staff I'd likely be squashed flat, yet if you dared do so your prize's blood will stain the soil before you finished the swing. Your brawn is unparalleled 'Great Sage' But so is my intelligence.”

“You're that smart, hm?”

“Whose the one holding the prize, Monkey King?” She gripped his arm tighter.

“Well, In that case how about a battle of wits?” There was that cocky lit. No doubt the Monkey had a trick up his sleeve to take care of the Spider Queen-

“For the prince?”

-and then if he could just play nice for long enough to get him to remove these damned restraining cuffs he could-

“To the Death?”

-he could charge at the simian with every ounce of pain and rage he'd built up in the past two years and turn him to ash and whatever smoldering stone he was made from that remained stone yet.

“I accept.”

He just had to be patient a little longer.

“Wonderful! Pour the wine, please?”

This would possibly be his greatest test of resolve yet. He heard the Monkey's footsteps approaching and as the creature drew near he smelled of peaches and the wind, and-...

Had- Had he stolen some of his beloved's clothes?!

His senses were stronger than an average humans and without his sight his other senses were sharpening and he could swear he smelled the distinct scent of-...of-....don't say his name don't even think it you don't have the time to be hysterical right now

-He didn't think he was CAPABLE of hating the Monkey King even more than he already did and yet here he was. His rage mounting and seething beneath his skin.

He heard the clack and pour as the wine sloshed into what were apparently two cups between his captor and his enemy.

“Smell this, but don't touch it.”

“This smells of nothing.”

“It's called Iocane powder. It has no smell, taste or distinctive texture but it can kill a demon in no time flat.”

“Hm.”

“Now it can't kill ME per se, but even I'm not fully immune to it. It'll put me into a sleep like death for a solid week, which is about as close to dead as I can get anyway.”

“Ahhh I see where you're going with this.”

There was another pause, and the sound of the two cups clinking as they were moved about.

“There. Which cup as the poison within? You select which you'll take, we both drink. And from there we see who has the custody of the prince, and who is dead.”

The Spider Queen laughed and released her hold on his arm to clap in her amusement.

“Truly? We both drink the wine and see who keels over? How delightful! You were never this collected with your gambits before, Great Sage! Truly I can only divine which cup is poisoned from what I know of you, Monkey King.” the Monkey King sucked in a breath and She laughed.

“I suppose the real question is how does the Monkey King go about when he plans on tricking people? Does he poison his own goblet or his enemies?”

Then the Spider Queen began on some long, painfully winded, tirade about what she'd divined about the Monkey King based on his reputation and what she'd gleaned from his behavior, and he honestly could not care about her backwards thought process one whit. He simply wished for this to be over and either make plans to return to this palace when the Great Sage was in his sleep like death and char him to a crisp or wait for the Spider Queen to fall dead and convince the Monkey King to free him so he may do the job himself.

“You're trying to confuse me into giving something away aren't you?”

“You'd LOVE that wouldn't you Monkey King? I know which goblet has the poison in it you great fool.”

“Then choose! Geez, this is boring me!”

“You'll see whose embarrassed soon enou- What in the world could that be?”

“What? Where?” Did.... Did the Monkey King really just fall for the 'look behind you' gambit? “I see nothing.”

...Really?

“I could have sworn I saw something- oh nevermind I suppose. Now, a toast. I select my own cup.”

“Very well.” the two cups clacked together dully.

“You chose wrong.” The Monkey King chortled, only to be cut off by the Spider Queen's cackle.

“You only BELIEVE I chose wrong! How humorous! The great and mighty Monkey King so easily duped!” the Spider Queen cackled “I switched our glasses as you were turned around Monkey King! You've fallen for one of the greatest blunders of them all! The Greatest of course being to never invade the far north nearing winter, but slightly less well known, is to never bet against a Spider when death is on the line!”

The Spider Queen laughed for a time longer before her laughter started to slowly dissolve into a coughing fit. Her hand scrabbled along his arm as she searched for purchase- and then fell away.

The Monkey King approached him and he most certainly HAD stolen the clothes of his beloved with the scent that clung there still—and oh how he'd wished he'd still have a remnant of him to remember with in his timeless eon of grief—and the sheer unbridled unfairness that his killer was allowed something that he so desperately had craved made him furious.

The Monkey King removed the webbing around his eyes first and he blinked in the sudden sunlight. The dark mask and head wrapping the Monkey King wore obscured the majority of his face and he found himself so full of rage at the idea of the wretched stone monkey being so close to him that once the webbing was torn from his mouth his first instinct had been to spit in his face.

He hadn't, but it had been a close call.

“....All that caterwauling and you knew you'd poisoned your own cup the whole time.”

“They were both poisoned, highness.” The Monkey King stated stiffly. “Iocane powder only works on demons and I'm immune to everything but what can kill an immortal... so you may not want to touch either of those cups yourself.”

The Monkey King reached for his bindings and he held his breath as he gave the shackles an experimental tug. The golden bands shuddered and tightened against his wrists. “What nature of binding are these?”

...just play nice, just until they're broken...“I'm not familiar with them myself, but they blast my own fire back onto me should I try to summon it, and tighten upon attempted removal.” Come on... if anyone could break them before they lopped his hands off it would be the Monkey King... and he'd thank him by giving him just what he deserves....

“Sounds like a stolen artifact from the heavenly court or something, you're probably stuck in those things until we return to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Well I know very little about the surrounding area, how short a time it's been since I've returned to the world, and if I remember correctly this mercenary group said themselves they were hired by your fiance, So we should probably assume his palace is hostile territory, and to send you home would surely double our journey time before we can be assured of safety. It's far safer to head back to my own mountain and send word to your home from there.”

No...No no no no That was not allowed. He got to his feet—in such a rush the Monkey King stumbled back in surprise—and couldn't hold on to his temper any longer.

“I will no nowhere with you! You- You absolute-! I- I can't even find the words to DESCRIBE how deeply my hatred runs for you!” The Monkey King flinched back in surprise, before huffing.

“Well you don't have much of a choice, do you? I can't remove those restraints short of chopping your hands off and the sun is due to set soon; How long do you think you'll last in the wild without your fire power? Far as I see it, You either return with me to my mountain, or leave as powerless as a human without even a weapon by your side and hope to make it back home on your own before you're either eaten or slaughtered.”

Red Son growled under his breath, but when the Monkey King gestured for him to follow, he did.

They made it to the outer side of a mountain, a steep decline into the valley off on their side and in the center of the valley lie a dark and tangled forest.

“We can rest here for a time-”

“I refuse to put my guard down around you, ape.” The Monkey King bristled.

“Would you mind terribly to indulge me as to why you've decided to detest your own savior, highness?”

The horrid monkey should know what he's done- “You killed the love of my life”

And then the bastard had the gall to remain unshaken “Maybe I did. I've killed a lot of people since getting free.” The Monkey strode forward and began to circle him, like a predator toying with its prey.

Red Son decided he wouldn't need his fire to attack this creature. Sure he may die within moments, but his rage would at least let him one punch before his skull was split open-

“Tell me, who was this 'love' of yours? Another prince like yourself?” The Monkey King leaned in. “Rich? Cutthroat? Bossy?”

Of all the disrespectful- “He worked in an Inn when I knew him! He was poor!” He rounded on the disgraceful simian yet the killer before him wasn't his focus. “I didn't care about his wealth!”

He couldn't think on him or he'd fall to pieces and-

He couldn't-

“I never cared about that.”

The memory of gentle laughter echoing in his ear, the bright excitement and bounce in his step, those elegant yet calloused hands and he had to stop this right here because the Monkey King wasn't ALLOWED to see him so vulnerable-

“He was perfect in every way...”

Yet now that the memory was in his head again it wasn't going away. And he found his heart aching as deeply as it was during his period of mourning.

The shimmer of adoration when he'd simply glanced at him briefly and known his heart; the embarrassed way his gaze had darted away when he'd later confronted him on his discovered feelings, the warm, bright joy when he'd told him his feelings were returned-

“...With eyes like the space between the stars...” His voice had grown weaker, barely a murmur as the memories reclaimed their long repressed spot in his mind.

Xiaotian... his face, his voice, His passion and energy and-

And the tired look on the Inkeep's husband's face when he'd informed him of their son's death-

-The eager excited look on his face as he'd eagerly listen to Red Son talk about his projects, always listening even if he didn't understand.

The feeling of the floor falling out from under him and and a million horrible noises and feelings mounting up in his throat and chest but restraining it just long enough to find somewhere to be alone

-The energy in his voice as he talked about his art, looking for all the world like his greatest pleasure in the world was taking a brush into his hand and immortalizing the world around him into inks and papers.

Kneeling in the grove of trees for hours screaming his rage and sobbing his despair until a stranger had finally found him.

-The stories he loved to hear and tell in turn, entire body going into his storytelling as he gestured and enacted and faked fights

Night after sleepless night tirelessly working trying to—needing to—just stop thinking else he'd be able to do nothing but wish the world itself had died when Xiaotian had so at least the sun would stop rising and the birds would stop singing and the servants would stop bringing him meals he didn't have the appetite for and he could just work and work until his body finally collapsed in on itself and the light of his forge would go out blanketing the world in eternal darkness like it deserved to be after the greatest light of them all was extinguished.

-one picture, just one, given to him the one time he'd returned to the town by the Inkeep, stating in a gruff, tired voice that he may as well keep it. A figure done up in coals, his own visage of that one beautiful night they'd had together, the paper folded and held in a secret pocket right over his heart where it remained forevermore.

That final goodbye, Xiaotian pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles as though still trying to be respectful to a prince. And he couldn't suppress the laughter at such a overly fancy action so once his chuckles had subsided he'd pulled him into a proper kiss. And they'd both known it would be some time before they'd see eachother, so they made it a proper goodbye-

But he hadn't thought it would be the last time he'd ever see him alive.

If he'd known... all the things he would have said, all the pleas to keep him there with him in the little town just beyond the palace. To- To move him into the palace, and yes his parent's wouldn't approve of a peasant for a husband, but he'd have no other and eventually they'd come around to it. Especially after they actually MET him and knew the kind of man he was-

But he didn't. And Xiaotian was dead-

He was dead at the hands of someone he'd admired and loved the stories of.

And his rage returned. The fire burned beneath his skin and begged to be let loose but he had to keep a lid on it to keep the cuffs from bouncing his power back onto himself and burning away like an effigy of love and loss.

“He was staying in the village you burned to the ground when you left your traveling group.” his voice was low, as calm as he could possibly make it, if he went any louder he would begin screaming, he knew it. “The one you ensured none would live to tell about beyond your former friends-”

“'Friends' is such a heavy word. My 'traveling compatriots' perhaps would work better.” The Monkey King interrupted him -He interrupted him! “And I mean I couldn't afford to show any mercy while I was leaving them behind! If people thought the Monkey King had gone soft after his five hundred year imprisonment nobody would respect him! Then it's nothing but work work work to rebuild that reputation!”

“Are you mocking me?! You destroy my everything and you have the gall to mock my pain?!”

“Oh, Life is pain highness.” He couldn't see the Monkey King's eyes but he was sure they were mockingly rolling in his self-assured life knowledge. “Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is just selling you something.”

Then he looked off to the side, and he was so tempted to just charge the Monkey, see how far he could go before he was struck back. See how far his rage could carry him alone. He twisted the restraining cuffs on his wrists, they tightened, he grit his teeth at the squeeze.

“You know, I think I remember this inkeep boy of yours. I separated from my former group about... what, two years ago was it?”

...You know he'd thought that if the Monkey King did remember Xiaotian it would give him some sense of catharsis. That his love had at least made an impression on the great fool, and was not just some faceless passerby, but...

It didn't.

“Does it bother you to know?”

“I'll not give you the satisfaction of hearing any more of my thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, he died well if that's any consolation.” The Monkey King was peering at him through the mask. “No bribe attempts with those meager savings, no blubbering. He pleaded his case to me only the once.” he looked away, seemingly lost in the memory, head tilted upward as though to help him remember. “He said 'Please... I need to live'...Not a lot of people say 'please' and mean it highness, so it gave me pause.”

“I asked him what was worth sparing him over, and I remember this, he said 'True Love'” His chest felt tight...

He reached up a hand and pressed it against his collarbone to try and alleviate the pressure, he could practically see it, the village up in flames, the Monkey King in this same hideous black outfit, his staff already stained with blood, and his precious, darling, beloved Noodle Boy kneeling in the dirt, blood seeping down his face from a cut somewhere on his head, and pleading just for a moment. And-

True love...

“He then went on to describe a gentlemen of great intelligence and deep passion; I can only assume he meant you...Have to say, I'm surprised you're not grateful to me destroying him when I did.”

His mind stuttered to a stop, his entire train of thought completely derailed as the Monkey King spoke.

“...What?”

“You know, before he could see the kind of person you really are.”

His control snapped in half, his fire sprung forth, the golden bands shuddered and the flames erupted out only for a moment before being bounced back onto him. The heat of his own fury scalding him until the pain made him stop. The Monkey King took a half step forward but Red Son made SURE he kept his distance with his glare alone.

“And what, pray tell, kind of person am I?!”

It seemed like he'd finally pissed off the Monkey King. Good. His shoulders tensed and those long canines bared, as though ready to tear into him. “He was really stuck on the idea that you were the faithful sort, highness. That no matter what, yours wasn't the kind of heart that could be swayed! He was so sure that you would wait for him-”

Wait- why was that what had angered him?

“-So tell me, when you learned of your 'love's death did you start accepting suitors the next day or did you wait a full week out of respect for the dead?!”

His hand went flying before he even thought about it, he should have punched him; if that was his only shot in he should have punched him, but his reflexes had decided the action for him and instead his palm was out and he'd slapped him instead.

“How dare you?! You mocked me once see if you live to do it again!”

But he wasn't thinking about that, he wasn't thinking about anything beyond the pain that had gone from a dull ache to white hot in his chest, the absolute blinding rage and the sting of tears welling in his eyes from the sheer tidal wave of anger and despair.

“I DIED THAT DAY”

The tears turned to steam the second they left his eyes, smoldering trails out of either, just barely able to vent that little bit of flame into the world without hurting him but he didn't care if the proof of his despair was made obvious by it or not.

He didn't care about any of it. He didn't care he couldn't summon a single plume of fire or how completely eclipsed his ability was by the Monkey King's without it, and possibly even with his it. He only cared about making him pay. He pounced on the monkey when he seemed stunned by his vehemence.

The scuffle was brief but he DID get another hit in before he was pinned. This time it was a real punch, and it was just as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be.

But too soon was he pinned, The monkey pressing his front to the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades and his hands held together against the small of his back.

He let out a shout of rage, not even bothering to try and give any more words, no more words were necessary.

“Calm down! You need to listen-!”

The steam was clouding his eyes so greatly he was nearly blind with it, his fire was trying to come out unbidden to throw off his opponent, the scalding agony rippling through his body proof of such. But he was numb to it beyond it fueling his anger even further; maybe if he just burnt hot enough he could melt the cuffs right off of him. Everything was hurting, his clothes were going to be a holey mess, but he could smell cooking meat and he could only hope it was the monkey above him. He HAD to burn the Monkey King first. Even if he was immolated himself in the process!

“The only thing I'd like to listen to is your demise! You-! You wretched ape! You heartless horsekeeper! You took my everything you don't deserve the breath you stole from his lungs!” His own lungs ached, was it through holding back sobs? Was he experiencing smoke inhalation for the first time? He couldn't tell.

The pressure was off of his back and his hands were released, he made a blind swipe to try and right himself but his arms wouldn't obey him, and at that realization the pain finally kicked in.

The world went fuzzy at the edges, then dark at the edges. Until he could only see a small spot in front of him and the rest of his sight was naught but a haze of black.

Then everything was black-

It was probably his own flesh he could smell burning-

There was rapid muttering above him-

How embarrassing if this was what did him in, revenge in his grasp and he was too eager to kill the Monkey King right there he let cursed jewelry trick him into offing himself-

Someone was sobbing, was it him? He didn't think he had enough breath in his lungs for that-

The pain was going away, did that mean he was dying-

He tried to open his eyes, but he was still face down in the dirt and could only manage one, the former grassland around him was still smoldering from his fire as it eased back into focus, his breathing was ragged, and at some point his skin had stopped burning so hot, he felt cold.

The pain had eased but hadn't vanished, but the shock was still heavy in his system as he couldn't respond when he felt a pair of arms lift him up and pull him against a hard yet warm surface.

Dark fabric met his eye, and...he knew who this person was, didn't he? At some point in the writhing pain he'd forgotten just what he was doing here, mind going blank for everything but the burning sensation. But whoever they were they felt familiar. Their arms wrapped around his torso like they belonged there, as though the two of them were made to be like this.

The next thing that processed was the sound. His ear was pressed to the person's torso and he could hear the rabbit flutter of a panicked heartbeat. But nonetheless there was something... familiar about it. And alongside the heartbeat there was the vibration of words in the stranger's chest, but these he couldn't quite make out as their face was pressed against the top of his head, buried in his hair and making the words indecipherable.

It was then that his mind finally re-engaged and he realized that it was the Monkey King holding him so tenderly. His anger felt muted by the cold cold blanket of shock, but he still struggled in his grasp to pull away, if only to try and make sense of what was going on. If the Monkey King had such judgmental and inaccurate views of a man he'd never met before now, why was he doing this?

The Monkey King held him tight and he felt the shake of his shoulders as he was pressed even closer. Why was he shaking? He shifted again and this time found his face pressed against the dark fur of the Monkey's neck.

But it... felt off... it didn't feel real. It felt more like fabric with an illusion placed over it than it did actual fur...

The smell of burning flesh finally faded from his nose and was replaced with-

…What?

No that- that wasn't possible, he'd stolen Xiaotian's clothes sure but his face was pressed to the Monkey King's neck, that can't be his scent that can't be-

His arms were still aching as he reached up and found the knot tying the dark mask and headscarf around him. Both fabrics fluttered away and with them came a puff of a cloud of smoke, a shapeshifting form dissolving around him.

And he was pressed against a very human body.

This- this could still be a trap, this could be some sort of illusion to pacify him, so he wouldn't ask any more questions, so he'd just lose himself entirely-

The human—the alive human—clutching to him tightened his grip and he could finally make out the words he was muttering

“I'm so sorry never do that again you scared me to death I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

The cocky lit in his voice was gone and it sounded so achingly familiar without it, and the feeling and the scent and it- it couldn't be....

It had to be

It was a struggle, his arms still felt heavy from the echoes of pain and the numbness of realization, but he pulled away just enough to properly look at him and-

Oh...

Like the space between the stars...

“Xiaotian...”

He was crying, just beginning to pull himself together now. Pulling an arm off of him to scrub at that beautiful face. Those enchanting eyes he'd thought he'd never see again darted away from him and he wanted to protest at not being allowed to simply look at him after... after EVERYTHING... but he couldn't find breath in his lungs.

“I think your fiance's been tracking us- I hear horses. Can you walk?”

He tried to respond, he really did, but he found himself spellbound by the sound of his voice, just as he remembered it without the false persona twisting it until the point it had become unrecognizable.

“Red Son?” he shuddered at the sound of his own name being spoken by that voice again. So many emotions and memories, the hole in his chest finally being filled, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt this time he wouldn't let anything part them again still leaving him stunned. The fire was gone from his skin and finally, finally he felt one emotion beat the others and bubble up to the surface.

Red Son started to laugh. Tears bubbling up and sliding down his cheeks as true, overwhelming joy engulfed him. His arms ached and felt stiff from the burns he'd laid onto them but he pulled them around Xiaotian's shoulders all the same and squeezed with every ounce of strength that remained in his body.

“You're alive...” he wasn't sure if his laughter had turned to sobbing or if the two had simply mixed together but his breath was hitching and the tears wouldn't stop. “If you wanted I could fly”

Those arms pulled around him again and now he could truly appreciate just how easily the both of them fit together.

“I- I still don't understand, why did you accept the proposal if you still loved me?” Xiaotian's voice was a whisper against his shoulder, and he didn't want to think any more of his family's decisions and his hopeless acceptance, yet-

“My parents decided it, and what else could I have done?” he paused for breath “You were dead.”

Xiaotian responded with such conviction he had no choice but to instantly believe him:

“Death can't stop true love; it can only delay it for awhile.”

His lips were rougher than he remembered, but Red Son had no complaints upon kissing them again.

#Spicynoodleshipping #MK Red Son #Qi Xiaotian #MK Spider Queen #Spider queen dies :( sorry bout that #tw death #Red groom AU #vega writes stories too #Princess bride AU #Monkie Kid #LMK #Lego Monkie Kid

[jasontoddiefor]

MTTT AU chapter 8: A Place - Room of a Thousand Fountains

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.

Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.

Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.

The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.

“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.

“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.

He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.

“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.

This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.

Not that Anakin had asked.

Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.

If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.

He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.

Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.

Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.

It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.

Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.

“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.

Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.

“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”

“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.

It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.

“She deserves better.”

Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.

“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”

“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.

Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.

“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”

If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.

“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”

“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”

Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.

“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”

Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.

“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.

“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”

Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.

When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.

Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.

“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”

Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.

“What do they mean?”

“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”

The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.

“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”

You will all be alive.

Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.

It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.

“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.

As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.

And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #plo koon #obi wan kenobi #medical trauma time travel au #fanfic #the softest chapter yet i think

[hide-in-imagination]

"Roads That Cross... on a Day Off"

You can read the previous chapters here: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20), (21)

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Inspired by 'Call it what you want', which is honestly THE simbar song. The author regrets nothing.

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Simón’s left arm was asleep.

He noticed it the moment he woke up, but he refused to move. The prettiest head of blonde locks was using it as a pillow, and who was he to disturb her?

It was a rare occurrence that he woke up before Ámbar. She was a natural early riser while he liked to sleep as much as possible. He usually woke up from her movements as she started her day, or— and this was his favorite— with some caress or kisses from her part. He could start becoming a morning person if that was what awaited him.

So, uncommon as it was, he wanted to cherish this, just this, having her close in complete calmness. Ámbar’s back was to his chest, their legs close together, and his free arm was around her middle, holding her against him. He wanted to run his hand over her skin, or maybe take hers in his, but he didn’t want to risk anything putting an end to this moment.

He fleetingly wondered how long his arm could go without blood flow before it did some damage.

Oh well, who cared.

He couldn’t see her face spooning her like this, but he noticed when she started waking because the even rhythm of her breathing he had been following changed. She began to move, stretching slightly in a way that pressed her back more into him. Simón did hold her hand then and kissed her shoulder. She hummed softly and turned her head to look at him.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice groggy from sleep. She rolled to rest her head on his chest, which his left arm appreciated. He laid on his back. “What time is it?” She asked after a moment of just relishing the closeness.

Simón extended his right arm over to the nightstand to check his phone. “Almost eleven.”

“Eleven?!” Ámbar jumped, as if he’d said four in the afternoon. “Wow, I hadn’t slept in this much in a long time…” She said, recovering from the surprise. She brought her gaze to his with a coquettish look. “You really wore me out.”

Simón smiled smugly and gave a small shrug. “Well, what can I say? I like to be very thorough,” he said playfully. “Or… maybe all of this was part of my evil plan to get you to let me sleep until a decent hour.”

She raised her brows. “Decent hour? By the time we go downstairs, we might as well have lunch.”

He gave her a look. “You’re totally exaggerating, it’s not that late.” He turned on his side and ran his knuckles softly over her right arm. “And anyway, I wasn’t planning on going to the dining room.” He smiled at her. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Of course. It’s the least my queen deserves.”

She tilted her head to the side with the cutest melted smile.

“Aww.” She cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

He gave her another peck. “I love you more.”

She drew back with a gasp in fake outrage. “You do not want to start that discussion, mister.”

“Oh really?” He said, playing along.

“Yep, because you’re going to lose,” she said confidently. “So better give up now while you still can.”

He smirked. “Or what?”

Ámbar’s eyes narrowed with challenge just as he wanted. With the hint of a smile on her lips, she rose and sat astride him, keeping his gaze from above.

“Or I’ll have to show you just how wrong you are.”

Simón kept his mask of a straight face. “That remains to be seen.”

One beat later, he went and flipped her over, making her explode into giggles that he captured with kisses in between his own smiles.

Maybe breakfast could wait.

*****************

The instant that “Esta Noche No Paro” stopped playing, claps and cheers replaced the music. Gastón was fascinated with the final product. It was magical to see everything put together when he’d been right there, in front of the camera, not knowing the shots that would come out of it. He was happy to see that both his dance moves and the choreography’s synch had come out great, but even more than that, he was happy to see the twinkle on Matteo’s eyes and the huge grin that split his face in two. They’d watched the video at the Roller with Delfi, Jazmín, Pedro and Ramiro, and Gastón could honestly say that Matteo and Delfi deserved all the praises that came their way— The video was amazing.

Everyone was very excited, so much so that Pedro gave them all smoothies on the house. Gastón had missed hanging out with his friends like this, a lot. Just their cheery conversations were sweeter than any drink. It was good to be back, no matter how short the visit.

The group dispersed after a while, everyone continuing their daily routines. Gastón and Matteo stayed on a table, Matteo still stuck on the video.

“It’s just… I really think if there is one person that should be receiving praises right now, it’s Luna,” he said, half awed by her, half lamenting she wasn’t there. “I mean, she came up with the video, shemade it happen… I really don’t know how to thank her for all of this.”

Gastón looked at his friend and pretended to think for a second. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe you could give her a bouquet of flowers,” he proposed, which Matteo seemed to like. “… And, while you’re at it, get back together with her.”

Matteo immediately became self-conscious. Gastón pushed forward. “Come on, dude, I’ve been here for a total of two days and it’s already obvious to me that you two still care about each other. Can you explain to me why you’re not together yet?”

Matteo averted his gaze, looking disheartened. “… A lot of things happened. Every time we get closer, we end up hurting each other and… Luna doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Gastón looked at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Matteo, she organized a whole music video for you. To cheer you up, to make youhappy. What else do you want? For her to write it in the sky?”

Tentatively, Matteo brought his gaze to his. “You really think so?”

“Everyone thinks so,” he declared. “You just need to gather the courage and go for it.”

Hope and worry mixed in Matteo’s expression. He looked down, seeming deep in thought. Gastón wished he didn’t drown in those thoughts of his so much and listened to his heart.

Just then, Nina entered the Roller with Jim and Yam and his eyes followed her as she walked over to a table, settling with her laptop as they talked about one thing or another.

Gastón filled his lungs with a big, deep breath. Time to start following his own advice.

***********************

By the time they finally deigned to leave the bed it was like two in the afternoon, and only because Ámbar thought it’d be a bad idea to introduce herself to Simón’s mom while in bed with him. She wanted to make a good impression— The woman didn’t need to know how she was defiling her son.

They sat on one of the couches in the living room for a more neutral setting. Ámbar chose a white top with a white linen sweater over it for the occasion. It made her look harmless enough. She also liked how its black and cream pearl embellishments combined with her dark jeans, and the weather had been a bit cooler lately. Simón had also opted for wearing his jean shirt over his purple t-shirt instead of tying it around his hips for that same reason.

They settled in front of her laptop’s screen for the video chat. It had been Ámbar’s idea to have it through there so it was more comfortable, that way neither side had to be holding up a phone.

Just as Simón had told her, the call hadn’t been a serious affair at all. She’d been a little nervous at the beginning, but Simón’s mom’s wide smile and warm personality put her at ease quickly. The woman didn’t seem to hate her at all, and she seemed too genuine to be pretending to like her. She reminded her so much of Simón. She knew that he mostly looked like his dad from the photos she’d seen on his Instagram, but he had his mother’s eyes, and the more Ámbar talked to the woman, the more pieces of him she found in her. It warmed her heart.

It wasn’t a very long chat, but Simón’s mom found the time to tell her a fun story of when Simón was a kid, much to his embarrassment and her insurmountable enjoyment. She promised to show her the family photo albums when she visited Cancún. Ámbar loved the idea.

“You’ll have to show me your photos too then,” Simón told her, his eyes shining with excitement and curiosity.

Ámbar did her best to keep her smile in place. She didn’t have any photos from when she was a kid that she knew of. Sharon wasn’t one for sentimentalities like that. If she had any, they were probably taken by Amanda on specific dates like her first day at kindergarten and at the Blake. Maybe some from old birthdays. Ámbar had no idea where those could be though… if Sharon had kept them at all.

The only old photos she knew she had were from photoshoots. She’d first asked for one when she turned twelve, and had some more done after that. When all cellphones started having decent cameras, it became easier to have photos.

Ámbar chose not to say any of it, and tried not to let it darken her mood, but the bitter reminder stuck on the back of her mind. The contrast between Simón’s mom’s sweetness and the cold, scolding texts she’d been receiving from Sharon was too great. Ámbar was ignoring them. Her godmother had no right to reprimand her for anything when she was keeping her secret at the expense of jeopardizing her happiness.

The video call ended with Simón’s mom teasingly warning him to behave and giving Ámbar permission to put him in his place if he didn’t. The irony of Ámbar promising to keep him on the right track was not lost on her, but it was just playfulness in the end. She only hoped that the future plans they’d talked about did come to pass.

After that, Simón insisted on inviting her out for lunch. “When was the last time we had time for an actual date? We need to seize this opportunity!” He took her to a restaurant he’d visited before with Pedro and Nico. It was nothing fancy, completely unlike the restaurants Sharon took her to the times they ate outside, but it was nice, and the food was delicious. The company was the best part, of course. Ámbar felt like she could’ve eaten anything and anywhere as long as she was with Simón. She nursed her drink slowly just so they could stay there longer, smiling and conversing. She suspected he did the same.

They had a brief fight over who would pay the bill. Ámbar argued that there was no need for him to spend money on her when she had more than she needed, but Simón insisted that he had invited her so it should be his treat. She proposed splitting it, but Simón wanted to pay for both. Sensing that it was important to him, she relented.

She grabbed his hand as they left and they walked down the street with their fingers interlocked. Ámbar would’ve been happy to just walk around with him for the rest of the afternoon until the sun went down, but he proposed they went back to the mansion.

When they got there though, she didn’t get to cross the front door before Simón stopped her.

“Wait for me right here, don’t move.”

Ámbar frowned but did as told while he disappeared inside, curious as to what idea he’d come up with.

He reappeared about five minutes later, with both hands behind his back, sign that he was hiding something.

“Okay, so, um, I want to make you a surprise,” he started.

She smiled with interest. “Okay…”

“But, in order to do that, I’m going to need you to be out of the mansion for a while.”

Ámbar raised a brow. Now this was unexpected, but she was too curious to say no. “Like for how long?”

“I don’t know, an hour?”

“And… what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Simón finally brought his hands forward, revealing one pair of her skates and her helmet. “You can rollerskate,” he said cheerily. “I’ve noticed that with so much work you haven’t found much time to do so lately. And, I mean, it’s a shame really, to deny the world the chance of seeing the queen of the rink in action.”

Her heart melted with the flattery, and especially for how thoughtful a gesture it was. “You’re so cute. But the idea of this day was to spend it together,” she argued, moving closer to place her hands on his shoulders. “I would rather skate with you. I miss it.”

He showed a sympathetic smile. “Me too. We can do that if we find some time at work one of these days. But now,” he handed her her things, “you can have some alone time and clear your head.”

Ámbar received them with an acquiescent smile. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you when you can come back.”

“Okay. Just try not to destroy my house with whatever you have planned.”

Simón chuckled. “I won’t. I may have to borrow a couple of things though, you don’t mind?”

She shrugged. “You live here, grab whatever you like.”

They shared a short parting kiss.

“Have fun,” he said with a smile.

Ámbar gave him one last peck just because she could and left.

**********************

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Nina smoothed her hands down her skirt. They were sweating so hard, and she knew it had nothing to do with the mellow autumn sun shining over them in the quiet square.

It was all about the boy in front of her, who’d always had the ability to make her heart pound. And to whom, she realized, she still hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah, well, we’re still friends, right?” She somehow managed to articulate nervously, trying to show a smile. “I mean, if you need something, advice or anything like that, I can help. Although, I don’t know if I’d really be much help. Maybe you should talk about it with Matteo?”

Gastón looked at her in silence, in the eyes, in a way that did nothing to calm her heart.

“Matteo can’t help me with this,” he said, just the slightest hint of sadness in his voice showing he wished it were not so. “No one, really... It is about you and me.”

Yes, that was exactly what she’d feared. “…You wanna talk about us?”

Gastón nodded solemnly.

“Could we take a seat?” He invited her gently, signaling to the bench right next to them.

They both sat, keeping some small distance between them, but they were still very close. When had been the last time they’d been this close? Alone? Nina was having a hard time keeping his gaze. She was gripping the strap of her bag so hard her fingers would probably hurt later.

“Look, Nina,” Gastón started, his tense shoulders the only thing that betrayed he was nervous too, “I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks… and you have no idea how much I miss you.”

Her heart clenched painfully.

God, how many times had she dreamed with him saying those words? So many scenarios, so many things she’d wished to say. And now she was frozen.

“Every second I’m not studying I think of you,” Gastón continued, his emotion-filled voice hitting her with each word. “Hell, even when I’m studying I think of you— That I haven’t failed a class is a miracle.” He looked down, ashamed. “And I know that saying this now is unfair when it was me who wanted to end it but… I need to correct my mistake.” Gastón looked up. Honest, determined eyes bore into hers. “I want us to be together again, Nina. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Nina felt herself tremble.

“I… I don’t understand,” she uttered, her brain registering the words but unable to process them. Or perhaps she was too scared to. “What happened with all you said? What happened with not making each other suffer and letting destiny bring us back together someday if it was meant to be?” She’d held on to that. To the belief that their names were being kept by the sea and maybe they’d find each other in the future. She’d accepted that, and now he…

“That was before my best friend fell off a fence,” Gastón said, somber, and his expression just quieted her once more. “He could’ve died, Nina. One bad hit in the head is all it takes. And I would’ve been a hemisphere away.” His hands clenched. His face reflected how much the idea tormented him. “I started thinking of possibilities. Matteo could’ve died or ended up in vegetative state or in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Accidents happen every day— And what if it had been you?” He said, his eyes dancing between hers in fear. “What if something had happened to you and I wouldn’t have been able to be there?” His jaw set. His head shook slightly. “I can’t trust a hypothetical future when I could die tomorrow.”

Nina’s throat tightened. “Don’t say things so horrible, please.”

“It’s true,” he dismissed her pleading, not harshly but with the calmness of someone who has complete certainty of what he’s saying. “That’s why I had to come. For Matteo, and for you. To ask you to give me another chance.”

He seemed to want to hold her hands but didn’t dare to do so. They fell back on the bench, right on the edge of the flounce of her skirt. Nina had no chance to be either disappointed or relieved by that because his eyes held her captive.

“I’m so sorry,” Gastón said, like from the bottom of his heart. “I gave up on us too soon. I was a coward; I see that now. I thought I was doing what was best for us, so we wouldn’t have to suffer from being so far apart. But maybe I was just thinking of myself and what I thought would hurt me less. Maybe I was just too afraid of you finding some other guy… And now, because of that, my greatest fear came true,” he said dejectedly, averting his gaze. “I’ve been told that you have a thing with Eric…”

“No!”

The word was pulled from her lips before she made a conscious decision. She was not surprised to see the surprise in Gastón’s eyes because she was caught off guard too. She began to backtrack rapidly.

“I mean… He’s a very sweet guy,” she said, because not saying it would be unfair. Just the fact that she’d denied him so adamantly made her feel mean. “We see each other every day and we talk. We’re kinda similar, we get along very well. And…” She doubted. She felt awkward telling him all this, but after everything Gastón had said to her, she had to be honest, she couldn’t act like there was nothing there. “…He likes me…”

She decided not to mention the kiss. It’d been a mistake and Eric had apologized. But by Gastón’s face, she might as well have.

He looked down, putting on a solemn mask. “…I understand.”

“No, you can’t understand,” Nina said immediately, and this time she meant the strength with which she spoke. She didn’t know where it came from but suddenly it was burning, and when he met her gaze this time, she looked at him straight on. “You can’t possibly understand because I don’t. Everyone’s telling me that I should give Eric a chance and, honestly, there are many reasons why I should, starting with the fact that he’s here and wants to be with me, but I can’t even think about being with Eric because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Now it was him that was rendered speechless. His eyes searched hers, a new light in them, and she’d already taken the jump, so she let the words fall whenever they led her.

“You may have gone very far away physically, but you stayed in my heart,” she confessed. The most real, hardest truth she’d ever had to admit. “And with it stayed the sadness, and this horrible feeling that I’m missing something…”

Gastón didn’t doubt this time— He took her hands in his.

“I feel the same,” he said with both relief and desperation. “I’ve been feeling the same way all these weeks, Nina. I miss you like I didn’t even think I could miss someone. I’ve been so angry at myself for letting you go when it was the last thing I wanted.” His right thumb ran over her knuckles and he followed the caress with his eyes. Nina felt it like a spark. “I know I have no right to ask you anything… But I just can’t go back without at least trying to get you back.”

“…But then… we’d be together but apart again?” She said, discouraged by that bleak future. They’d already been through that— Did he really want to go back to it?

“You were the one who said that I was never really gone,” he noted. “As long as we still have each other here…” He brought their joined hands to his chest. “…Isn’t that all that matters?”

She didn’t know if she could feel his heart against her fingers or if it seemed so because she could see it through his eyes. She was too overwhelmed. “Gastón—”

“Say yes, Nina.” He squeezed her hands. “Please.”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to jump into his arms and hug him tightly. She wanted to believe that love conquered all and they would be okay.

But she had thought that once. She’d believed it with all her heart, all through that summer, only for him to put an end to the story she’d been trying to write.

She couldn’t just forget about all the nights she’d spent crying over him since then. Names in the sea or not, it had been the death of something and she’d mourned it. Her heart was just starting to heal a little and he wanted her to rip all the carefully placed stitches and re-open the wound once more?

What if it just bled out again? What if their love wasn’t enough?

“… I need to think about it.”

Gastón looked disheartened but nodded and let go of her hands, lowering them slowly. “Yeah, of course. I understand.” He tucked his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, like stopping himself from reaching for her once more. “I leave in three days. If you could tell me by then…”

Nina nodded, utterly unsure of how she was even gonna make heads of what she felt to come to an answer, but knowing that it was the least Gastón deserved, and she as well.

She either chose to give themselves another chance… or she closed this chapter forever.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy no matter which she chose.

****************

Luna couldn’t understand what was happening.

She’d gone out for ice cream with Michel just like they’d promised. One second they were goofing around, laughing like always, and then the next, Michel was kissing her.

She froze, her brain scrambling to comprehend the situation. She hadn’t expected a kiss. She hadn’t given any sign for a kiss. He hadn’t just stumbled and fallen into her mouth, right? Nono, he was holding her face, and the way he was pressing against her lips was way too deliberate. Which meant it wasn’t a joke either, and even if it had been, it’d be a terrible one.

Finally, the repulsion she felt broke through the paralysis of confusion and she pulled away from Michel.

“What are you doing?” She asked, shaken up.

Michel was grinning. “I don’t know, I kissed you,” he said with a dreamy expression like something magical had just happened.

Meanwhile, it must have been one of the few times in her life Luna couldn’t see any good in a situation.

“Yeah, I realize that,” she replied, and she really couldn’t help the bite in her voice. “But, why? I mean, I didn’t— I never told you to kiss me!”

Michel’s shoulders deflated and his smile began to fade. “What are you saying? You didn’t like it?”

“Michel, how could I like it?” She honestly couldn’t believe he was even asking right now. Was he that detached from reality? In what world did he think this was okay? “We talked about this, didn’t we? Yesterday.”

“Yes, but,” he showed a tentative smile, “you said we are like birds of a feather and that you like hanging out with me…”

“Yeah, as friends,” she declared, keeping his gaze so he knew she was serious. A grimace wrinkled her face from all this situation. “God, Michel, you misunderstood everything, I thought we’d made things clear.”

Michel’s face finally lost all its light and became covered with remorse. “Luna, I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

“Why, I don’t know— Are we gonna talk and then you’ll try to kiss me tomorrow?!”

At seeing him wince in pain and regret, Luna’s outrage decreased somewhat; she didn’t want to be mean.

She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Look, Michel, I’m sorry, but this made me very uncomfortable and I need to go.”

She passed by his side and walked away, not looking back once, even when she heard him calling her name.

She wasn’t just shocked, she was hurting. She trusted Michel, she thought they were friends, she thought this outing had been as friends— Had he been just waiting for an opportunity to do this? Couldn’t he have at least leaned in slowly so she could move away instead of grabbing her face like that?

She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand as if that would somehow erase it. She knew it was just a kiss and she was probably exaggerating but… If she said she didn’t want something and then he just did it anyway, that was… that was just wrong.

She speed-walked to her house, wanting nothing more than to forget this happened.

A few meters away, a fresh bouquet of flowers laid discarded on the ground.

**********************

Ámbar felt the fresh air against her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, just taking in the feeling of her racing heart and the energy flowing through her muscles. She really had missed this.

She was standing by the lime green railing of the center of the park, her back and elbows resting on the metal as she took a break to refill her energy. She’d done pirouettes and jumps around this fenced circumference for a little over an hour, earning some appreciative stares from people passing by, which she enjoyed greatly. She loved feeling admired, especially because she loved what she did and knew how hard it’d been to reach this level. She remembered how her love for rollerskating had been born and wondered if any of the people who’d seen her today had left wanting to learn how to do the same. She hoped they tried it— It was a beautiful sport.

Eventually, she’d dropped the techniques and just skated around the park, looking at the scenery, at the sky, just letting her mind wander as the homely feeling of sliding on wheels lulled her accumulated stress away. When had been the last time she’d skated just for the sake of it, no choreographies or competitions in mind? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

A vibration on her jeans pocket made her open her eyes. Her heart jumped with excitement. She pulled out her phone and saw the contact she had been waiting for.

My love💙: All done, you can come back 👍

My love💙: Go directly to your room

Ámbar skated to a nearby bench to take off her helmet and change back into her boots. She wondered what Simón had planned. Maybe he’d cooked her something? She knew he and Pedro used to take care of cooking when they lived in the loft. Nico apparently couldn’t be trusted to make toasts without burning them. She wondered what kind of dishes Simón knew how to make. Maybe he could teach her some and she could make him pancakes. She was sure she could do it with some guidance from Mónica.

The idea made her smile as she made her way back to the mansion. She quickly wiped it off when she realized, showing a neutral face instead. Oh god, she’d just smiled to herself in the middle of the street. Was this what had become of her? Ámbar Smith, smiling in public like a love-struck fool. She blamed Simón.

She welcomed the heating system when she entered the mansion. She hadn’t realized how the early evening air had cooled her until she felt the contrast with indoors. Following Simón’s instruction, she rearranged her stuff in her hands and climbed up the staircase.

The minute she walked into her room, she stopped in her tracks.

“What the…”

Half her room had been invaded by bedsheets. From the foot of her bed to the back was some kind of tunnel made of different blankets, which didn’t reach higher than her waist. Some things from her shelves were on top of the ends of the blankets on each side; she gathered they worked as weights so the blankets didn’t fall off. The back of the tunnel opened into her closet. She could hardly see it— It was completely covered by bedsheets. It was like having a tent in her room.

At the front of the tunnel, she recognized the pink round ottoman she usually kept in her closet. It was standing on its side instead of the usual way, so it blocked the entrance to the archway of fabrics. Just then, she watched it slide to the right, leaned against her bedside. Behind it, crawling to fit under the blankets, appeared Simón, grinning from ear to ear.

“Surprise.”

Ámbar’s mouth was hanging open.

“I… What is all this?” She said with a stupefied smile.

“You said you’d never built blanket forts before, so I decided to make one for you,” he announced cheerily. “Come on in, check it out.” He crawled to the back. “Close in your way in!”

Still dumbfounded, Ámbar left her rollerskates and helmet on the floor next to her vanity. Usually, she’d put them back in their place first thing, but considering her closet was now a fort, that would have to wait.

She kicked off her boots and got on her knees to enter the tunnel. As she went inside, the construction became more evident: The blankets were hanging from her vanity’s chair, one of her sofa chairs and her desk on the left side, and from her bed, her second sofa chair and her pink bench on the right. She turned to put the ottoman back in its place and realized it basically worked as a sliding door. Wow, her boyfriend was so clever.

She crawled to the back, where Simón was waiting for her, sitting crossed-legged. The whole floor was covered in her dark grey carpet, and there were many pillows and blankets placed around. Bedsheet walls —there was no other way to describe it— flowed down at her right, left and in front of her closet’s shelves. Ámbar simply couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I asked Mónica to make us some snacks,” Simón said, still smiling, placing a small tray with food and drinks between them as she sat on his left. “I gathered you’d be hungry from skating. Oh! Wait, I forgot something.” He reached for an extension cord on his right and flicked the switch. Light shone all around them. “There you go.”

Ámbar looked around. Two garland lights had lit up, one on each side of them. She looked up, finding an arrangement of tiny golden lights illuminating the bedsheet ceiling. Were those Christmas lights? Where had he even gotten those?

The more she looked, the more details of his work she noticed. The bedsheet walls existed because he’d attached two parallel strings from the back of the closet to the front to hang them from. He’d taken care of hiding the cables of the lights so they wouldn’t disturb the space. There were at least three bedsheets, and she wasn’t even going to count the number of blankets he’d used in all of this.

She remembered his words that morning in the bathtub. “Don’t you feel like we’re in our own little world like this?”

It did feel like that. Like he had built a world just for her.

“Wow…”

“Do you like it?”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t tear her own from the splendor around her.

“It’s… perfect,” she said with some difficulty. Her throat had gotten tight. No one had ever put this much effort into doing something for her.

“I mean…” Simón relativized, looking around with a little grimace. “I did have to tape a lot of things together because they kept falling off…”

“Do not mess with my fort; it’s perfect,” she countered him strongly, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

Simón chuckled lightly. His eyes stared into hers, and he must have noticed the emotion in them because his expression softened. He didn’t comment on it, just handed her a snack from the tray with a gentle smile. “Let’s eat then.”

They shared the food in comfortable silence until conversation arose naturally. How had her skating gone, how he’d found Christmas lights. It didn’t go any deeper than that.

Once finished, Simón slid the tray outside of the bedsheet wall. “To make sure we don’t knock over anything. I’ll take it back later.”

Ámbar leaned on her hands to move closer to him and kissed him. She needed to do so for a while now. He tasted of the juice he’d just drunk. It stayed on her lips as she pulled away.

“So,” she said curiously, “what do we do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Simón replied, and began to pile some pillows behind them, against the closet’s doors. “Usually when I did this I was with a friend or a cousin.”

Ámbar settled against the pillows as he did the same. “And what did you do with them?”

“We talked about kid stuff, like videogames or cartoons we were watching…”

“Uh huh…”

“Or we imagined that this was our secret base and we were professional spies, and we had to crack some code to get into the bad guys’ files or infiltrate their base to beat them.”

She gave him an appreciative look. “You’re saying I’m dating an ex-CIA agent? That’s hot.”

“Who said I ever retired?” He replied with a flirty brow lift.

Both chuckled. They shared a soft peck and Ámbar snuggled closer to him, circling her arms around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder.

“What about you?” He asked, moving some strands of her hair back. She looked up at him. “What did you play with your friends?”

“We usually invented stories for the barbies.” She dug deep into her memories, bringing back those moments long past that she hadn’t thought of in years. “Like, there was Sofía, Nicole and Camila and they were best friends, and they did everything together, from shopping to saving the world…”

“That sounds very cool.”

“It was, until Camila found out that Nicole had hooked up with her boyfriend.”

His eyes widened. “Nooo.”

“Yes.”

“That bitch.”

“Right? How could she do that to her after she bought her tickets to Milan’s fashion week?”

“The audacity. I hope Camila put her in her place.”

“Hell yeah she did. We cut her hair and everything.”

Both laughed. The things one did as a kid.

“There was this other story,” she continued after a while, “in which the doll was in love with this guy that was about to fly to another country, so she had to run to the airport to catch him before he left to tell him she loved him, but the craziest things happened to her on the way there, making it suuuper difficult.”

“Did she ever catch him?”

Ámbar turned pensive.

“I wanna believe she did,” she responded. “That she told him she loved him, and he loved her too, and they lived happily ever after.” She looked up at Simón.

“Even with the distance?” He asked, caressing her arm softly.

“Well, no one says he could never come back,” she stated. “Or she could’ve gone to him. I’m sure they found a way.”

Simón smiled, looking into her eyes as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Their gazes stayed locked until the gravity pulled them in. Their mouths met for a long second, fitting perfectly against the other’s. The kiss turned into many— Soft, languid touches of their lips that felt better than even skating.

“Did you do this with your friends too?” She couldn’t help but quip.

Simón let out a laugh. “Definitely not.” And he went back to kissing her.

Ámbar felt light; lighter than she ever remembered being. Safe, calm, warm— Like wrapped in a blanket after having been cold. Simón was like that. Like the first sunny days after winter. Like a warm bath after a long day. Like sitting in front of the hearth after having been drenched in the rain. Little things that made everything better. He was made of them, and he took care of giving her each one.

He didn’t only help her find who she wanted to be, but he also allowed her to be the carefree little girl she never got to be. Simón gave her things she didn’t realize she needed until she lived them.

Ámbar pulled back slowly and looked into his eyes.

“My love?”

“Yes?”

She curled her fingers around his t-shirt, trying to find the words to express everything she felt.

“Really, thank you so much for this. It’s… the nicest thing someone has ever done for me and…” She swallowed. “I love you. So much. So much so that it kind of makes me wanna cry.” She chuckled weakly, a little strangled.

Simón’s eyes danced with hers, deep and soft and yet burning.

He smiled and held one of her hands. “Ámbar Smith… You are my heart. I swear if it beats it’s because of you. Why should you thank me for anything if thanks to you I’m alive?”

Ámbar’s throat got too tight to answer. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, like trying to go to him. All of her, from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet, yearned to cling to him.

She pulled his face to hers and joined their lips tightly.

Simón responded like he felt the same, with the same depth and intensity, but she doubted he could love her a third of how much she loved him.

They unclothed each other slowly, kissing reverently each extension of skin they uncovered. Under those sheets and golden lights, Ámbar felt like they were the only thing that existed. The universe started and ended with him— With each touch of his hands, each kiss from his lips.

The fur of the carpet was soft against her back as he slid inside of her. They gasped against each other’s mouths, a shared sound of rightness. Ámbar embraced him with her whole body and breathed in his scent as she followed the gentle rocking.

Simón left kisses on her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Ámbar dug her fingers into the softness of his hair and she stared at their fort. The lights above looked like stars. Her eyes absorbed each wrinkle, each mix of color, each scotch tape attached to a fabric. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She would’ve changed all her wealth for having this. For having Simón. Always.

He was pushing deep between her legs, as if he too wanted to live inside her and never leave her side. He panted her name and she held him tighter, feeling how the sensations flooded her and stole her breath.

He touched her where they were joined, looked into her eyes, and then everything exploded, turning Ámbar into stardust.

She was barely corporeal as she felt Simón let go, dissolve in her with his breath against her neck.

A tear fell down her cheek.

Simón saw the wet trail when he straightened and, instantly, his face filled with worry. He opened his mouth and Ámbar could see the questions in his eyes. What happened? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?

But he didn’t voice any of them. Because he looked into her eyes and he understood. Just like that, he understood. Ámbar loved him even more for it.

Simón gave her a soft smile, with just the slightest speck of sadness, and kissed the salt off her skin. That was what he always did— Accept the fragile and unsure her, not just the laughs and her best moments.

She used to think she had to be perfect to be loved. He showed her that wasn’t needed.

Simón grabbed a blanket to cover them both and brought her to his chest. Ámbar pressed her forehead to his warm skin and closed her eyes.

“I wish we never had to leave this fort,” she said softly. “We could just stay here forever. Freeze time, right on this moment.”

Then she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. She wouldn’t have to keep secrets. She wouldn’t get scared every time she felt happy. They’d never have the chance to break each other’s hearts.

She felt the vibrations on his chest as Simón hummed.

“That would be nice…” He agreed, weakly gracing her shoulder with movements of his thumb. “But I’m more excited about all the new things I can still share with you.”

Her breathing stopped for a second. Ámbar looked up and found Simón smiling at her, that smile that was the sweetest she had ever known and sometimes wondered how her life had been before she saw it. His eyes were shining, full of possibilities.

Ámbar looked at him, and against all odds, she began to laugh.

“What?” Simón asked, but she just shook her head, looking away in disbelief.

How was it that he could brighten everything with just one phrase? One second to the other, just like that? It wasn’t fair. It almost made it seem like everything she’d been worrying about were just silly things. So not fair.

Ámbar sighed, and after a beat, brought her gaze back to him.

“Do you like pancakes?”

Simón frowned, clearly confused by the change of topic. “Yeah, why?”

Ámbar smiled and settled back with her head against his chest.

“No reason.”

…

..

.

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

(I had never written Gastina, so apology to the shippers if I didn’t get it right, but I believe it turned out pretty decent.)

Not a lot of plot advancement on this one, but I really wanted to give them, and you, this one sweet moment to hold onto. I've had the draft for this last scene since July 16th of *last year*, just so you get an idea of how long I have to wait to post the things I have in mind.

I really love this chapter, I hope you do too <3

I'll leave some reference pictures here. The first one is a drawing that I made. It was only meant for me to visualize the fort, so I apologize for the mess. If I had planned back then to share it with you guys, I would've made it prettier 😅

#simbar #simbar fic #simbar fanfiction #soy luna fanfiction #My Writing #roads that cross