#don’t ask me why I’m doing this while I’m mourning!!! I’m directing my anger 2 something worthy it’s probably healthy!!!

[mcx7demonbros]

Darkness and The Coffin

This is Part III of my The Rise of the Archon of Sin series, featuring my self-insert MC, Klein.

Part I - The Sacrifice

Part II: The Mourning

Pairings - all brothers x Klein, but Lucifer x Klein is the most prevalent

Warning - lessons 16 & 38 spoilers, slight mention of religion

Note - there will be 2 Kleins in this part (why? Read to know XD), so I’ll use 2 different colors to distinguish between the two of them.

Klein - the Klein we always know

Klein - the other Klein

Last thing, Thirteen makes a cameo

Where am I? Klein asked himself the moment he opened his eyes.

The Overlord found himself lying next to a bonfire on the bank of a dark river. On the sky, there was nothing except the moon, which looked completely eerie and twisted like something from a horror movie. Klein looked around him, and beside the bonfire, he also found many things, from a common thing like a teddy bear to a gold statue of the Egyptian god Horus, all of which seemed old and abandoned.

“Ah, you woke up, good.” Klein turned to the direction of the voice. And standing there was…himself, or rather, another Klein.

“Who are you?” Klein immediately got up and prepared to fight.

“I know that would be your reaction.” Klein said without any emotion. “But you do know me.” He lifted his shirt and showed Klein something.

“Those wounds…you are t-the other me, the one killed by Belphie - Belphegor in the other timeline, no, it’s also my timeline now.” Klein couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. “Why are you here?”

“‘Belphie’, I see you are already that close to him.” Klein snickered. “As for why I’m here, when that damnable demon butler merged the timeline, you became the only Klein. And I, I was thrown away to this place - the Land of the Dead and Forgotten.” Klein said as he used his hands to signal for Klein to look around. “And when you killed yourself to save Lucifer and the others, your soul was exiled to this place too.”

“The Land of the Dead & Forgotten?” Klein asked.

“Yes, any living thing that dies in extremely special circumstances, like by the Night Dagger or erased by merging timelines, will come here. As for objects, they are simply forgotten by human, I guess.”

Klein looked at Klein while he was talking as he remembered something and got into defensive stance again.

“If you came here and became forgotten because of the merging timelines, you should bear hatred for me, right?”

“Don’t worry. I no longer do.”

“What’s the meaning of that?”

“Here’s in the Land of the Dead & Forgotten, everything will be slowly devoured by the place itself. For living creatures like us, the place will cool all of our emotions & our desires first before eating us. Hatred, anger, greed, desire to find a way to leave this place, however strong at first those emotions and desires may be, they will slowly die down. The place will devour us after we become empty shells with nothing left.” Klein said with an emotionless tone of voice, which he had never changed since meeting Klein.

Klein looked at the other him and he began to realize the fact that Klein had never spoke with any emotion, his voice was always monotone.

“Don’t tell me-.”

“Yes. When I first came here, the hatred I bore for you was enormous. I cursed you and the brothers along with anyone related to the exchange program like every moment I thought of you. However, like after the first one hundred years or so, I lost all of that negative emotion. Gradually, even positive emotions left me. Now, even if someone gives me a gift, I can’t even say thank you with happiness, but only emotionless words.”

“Wait, 100 years?”

“Time flows very different here.”

“Ah, I shouldn’t have asked a question with such an obvious answer.” Klein began to relax and sat down on an old chair beside the bonfire.

Klein intended to say that was his chair but decided to drop it and went dig out another chair from bunch of things near them. After that, things became quite awkward between them.

“Erm, how long have you been in here, like according to how time flows here?” Klein asked.

“10,000 years, from the moment I got thrown in here until I found you in the river over-there and dragged you here.”

“That long?”

“Yeah, I should have been devoured long ago, but I managed to last until now, thanks to the little love I have left for them.” Klein placed his right hand over his heart. “Here, negative emotions and desires will die down sooner than positive ones. But the thing right here have kept me existed for very long, longer than it should have. But I think it will only give me some little more time. When it gets cooled down by this place, I’ll get devoured.”

“Oh, I-.”

“No, don’t say I’m sorry. That’s the last thing I want to hear right now.”

“O-ok.”

Then things started to become awkward again for five minutes.

“Erm, how did you know all of this? I know you have stayed here for a long time, but it’s hard not to wonder when you’re the only one here and you seem to know literally everything without anyone else around to show you.”

“I wasn’t alone. There were a few others. But now there’s only me…and you.”

“Oh.”

After that, the situation became awkward again.

“Do you want to see how the brothers are doing?” Klein suddenly asked.

“I can do that?”

“Yes.”

“Then please tell me how to do that.”

“It’s simple. Go to the river over-there, look at the water and think about them.”

Klein got up and went to the river and as he looked down, images of the brothers began to appear.

The first image appearing was the image of the six younger brothers kneeling beside his body. All resting their heads on either his chest or arms. Some chose to stay silent for the moment, others kept mumbling something audible only to the speaker while holding on to his body.

Tears began to roll down from Klein’s eyes as he watched how devastating the brothers were.

“Here.” Klein gave his counterpart some tissue.

“Th-thanks.”

Soon the image was replaced with another. This one was about Lucifer.

Lucifer stepped inside a coffin shop as a purple-haired girl was going out, making them nearly collided.

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer apologized.

“It’s alright. We haven’t collided anyway.” The purple-haired girl said. “You want to find the owner of the shop, right?”

“Yes.”

“Candy, stop making coffin for a second. There’s a customer.” The girl turned her head back before shouting.

“She’ll be out in a few minutes.” The girl said.

As Lucifer went inside, the girl looked at him secretly, thinking about something before leaving.

After the girl left, a woman stepped out from deep inside the shop to meet Lucifer.

“What kind of coffin do you want?” Candy took out some paper and asked.

“The best you could find.” Lucifer said like the words that just came out of his mouth were what he always believed with strong conviction.

“Did they follow any religion?” Candy asked after noting Lucifer’s words down.

The demon of Pride took a deep breath before saying:

“He was Catholic. Please place a crucifix on the coffin.”

While Klein was looking at his beloveds through the water, the other Klein went to the bonfire. He settled down beside it. His right hand again placed on his chest. He wasn’t sure why but his chest began to feel warmer seeing the relationship between Klein and the brothers. The sole feeling inside his chest, which had been keeping him alive, long had it been dimmed, but just now, it gained a little bit strength to fight against the effect of the Land of the Dead & Forgotten.

Author’s words

It may be a bit confusing to read because I have to write 2 Kleins 😵‍💫

Tag. @sparkbeast20

#obey me #omswd #obey me mc: klein #obey me lucifer #obey me demon brothers #lucifer x oc #obey me lucifer x oc

[starlightshadowsworld]

Son of none

Based off this post: Aka Percy Weasley was abandoned by his family and I don’t think they realised just how much danger an 18 civilian blood traitor son would be when stuck behind enemy lines. Well never fear, a fic is here as if I don’t have any other drafts...any whoooo

@transparentfreakpursepanda

Warning for blood, torture, self loathing. Mentions of bullying and neglect. Cursing.

(Also while writing this I was listening to Polaris by Natewantstobattle and...yeah if you want more angst while reading this listen to them and think of Percy :)  )

Percy deserved this.

Knowing that didn't change things. It didn’t make it easier to make it duck past the office that had once belonged to Barty Crouch Sr without feeling dread and greif. As harsh as the man could be and that he had not bothered to learn Percy's name... Percy still mourned his loss. For all that he was, Barty Crouch Sr had been a good man.

Life at the ministry taught him quickly, that kind of wizard was few and far between.

He wondered if the look Barty Crouch Sr had shared with his son before his death wax the same his father had shared with him the day he left.

Maybe it wasn't wise to compare yourself to a deranged murderer, but if that's the kind of wizard his family thought he was...

"Weasley"

It was stern, drenched in spite that was not unlike his old potions professor. But sadly even Snapes treatment of him in class did not hold a candle to what was happening now.

Percy lifted his head, it felt heavy. Infact all of him felt that he was on fire. The figure infront of him came into focus, not that Perch could quite recall his name. Edward? No that didn't seem right. Not Edward was his wand in hand and looked very annoyed, his dark mark was on full display.

Percy became very well aware in that moment that he couldn't move. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked very much like a cellar. He was still in his ministry robes, though they were dirty and tattered and stained in something.

It took Percy longer than he should've to realise it was his own blood. Not that he knew where he was bleeding from. "You Gryffindors and your bloody stubbornness" sneered Not Edward, he was a broad man, towering over Percy.

"You're wasting my time, and yours of you don't hurry up and tell me where your family is hiding." Percy shook his head, defiantly even if his body protested at the sudden movement. "Like I said before, even if I did know, I would never tell you." 

And than Not Edward would shout profanities all the while using his subordinates to use Percy as target practice till he passed out. That had been the cycle for... Well he wasn't sure for how long. Apart from the first time when Percy had weaved a convincing story about the family heading to Romania to hide away with Charlie...a whole false hunt that ended with the brand he now had on his arm. 

But this time was different.

Not Edward smirked "thought you'd say that, no matter. We've found out how to get there attention, and they'll hand themselves over." Percy laughed, it was a strangled and it sent another wave of pain through his body.

Not Edward was still smirking, in fact if anything his confidence grew. "And better yet, you're going to the bait that brings them here." And that stopped Percy laughing at once, he was quieter. "What makes you think they'd come" the words were barely above a whisper that echoed throughout the room.

Not Edward (Percy really needed to learn this man's name for his own internal monologue's sake) rolled his eyes "don't pull that on me, you Weasely's are more attached than a bunch of grapes. Rest assured, they'll be coming one way or another."

With that he left. Percy tried not to think about the fact a death eater had more confidence in his families arrival than he did. His mind wandered to the day he left, guilt pooled in his stomach. No amount of head trauma would erase the disgust and rage in Arthur’s eyes, Percy knew at that moment he had lost all right to call the man father. 

He could never look him in the eye again, he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror without seeing him staring back. His mothers eyes haunted him, she’d been the only one to try to reach out but he had slammed that back in her face. Not that Percy should have been surprised, he’d always been a parasite. 

If anything they must’ve been relived to be rid of him. 

They wouldn’t come, he knew that. Than why did his heart race, did tears threaten to fall and his stomach churn at the thought? Percy thought of his siblings, young and old...they wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Fred and George would mourn the loss of their favourite target, but they would move on they all would if they hadn’t already. 

For Percy though, this was the end of the line. 

_______________________________________________________________

Weasley family dinners were always something else, Bill knew this better than most. He smiled to Fleur who sat at his side, amusement on her face as they both watched Molly do as she does best. It was organised chaos at its finest, and while Shell cottage was a far cry from the Burrow, somehow it all came together. Harry was laughing at a story Ginny and the twins were telling, Charlie and Hermione were actually helping Molly along with Arthur. 

But even with how familiar it was, it was missing a certain brother rolling his eyes at the story and telling the true ending to the annoyance of the twins. Who would than direct the others to helping out with dinner to there mothers amusement. 

Percy. 

Ever since the watch, a muggle watch at that had arrived on his wedding day, with no name for the sender but only Bill’s name signed by an all too familiar handwriting...Bill hadn’t been able to take his mind of his little brother. His absence at his wedding and just seeing him around the house stuck out like a sore thumb to Bill. He wasn’t the only one either, he could see how his Mum would pause her eyes searching before looking down and moving onto something else.

Much like now when she put down the plates and realised that she’d left a little extra to the side. “Mum, I get that you miss him but you can’t keep doing this. Percy’s not coming back” the first to say it was Charlie, his voice soft like he was talking to an irate dragon. “Good riddance” that came from Ginny, in that whisper that wasn’t even trying to be quiet. 

Instantly Molly became much like a dragon. “Ginevera Molly Weasley, don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!” She yelled, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Molly...” Interjected Arthur, putting a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder “you can’t blame her for her anger. Come on, let’s dig in.” And that should have been the end of it but Molly turned to him, her own temper boiling. 

“Don’t you start, Arthur. Don’t you tell me I should be sat eating dinner while my son is out all alone.” She spat. “Mum, it’s fine Percy’s probably having high tea with the new minister, talking about the importance of  cauldron bottoms” snickered Fred, “pfft yeah, just sat around telling the dark lord about his book report” agreed George. Bill frowned, as did Fleur but that was nothing compared to Molly. 

Her gaze hardened and the twins shut up instantly, they’d never seen her this mad. “I dont care if you hate him, I don’t care if this isn’t my home...you speak of my son following HIM, get out of my sight now.” She said, slumping into a nearby chair. Bill stood up, putting his own hand in his mums which she took gratefully. “Percy may be the most ambitious lion around, but he wouldn’t join you know who. He left to join the ministry because that's what he believed in, death eaters isn’t even in the equation.”

And Bill meant those words. More than he ever thought he would. 

“Though is there any difference between the death eaters and the ministry anymore?” Asked Harry, the place was filled with them after all. “Yeah? Might be but they’ve kept the employees, not that I know what’s going on in there anymore.” Said Arthur, adding his 2 galleon’s into the mix. “And there not going to take kindly to a Weasley” Said Hermione, making everyone look down as if they hadn’t just realised that. 

It didn’t matter if Percy had disowned himself, his family was very much publicly fighting the people he was now stuck with. 

And that was when fate decided to be extra cruel and the radio burst into life. 

“Greetings from the Ministry. Our daily transmission has already been received today but we have an exceptional treat for the wizarding public. We will be instead hosting an interview with one of our newest employees, give a hand folks to Percival Ignatius Weasley.”

Everyone in the room froze, and yet Ron who was the only one of the family minus Fleur not to speak, ran to the radio and put the volume as loud as he could. 

“Say hello your family, Percival.” Taunted the voice, it was very gleeful as it spoke. No response was heard. “Oh, silly me I forgot how many hours you young people work, not to worry let’s get him up boys.” 

A splash was heard and a shuddering scream. “Morning Percival, sorry do you prefer Percy? Don’t care, lets start the interview. So Percival, how are you finding the ministry?” Everyone sat with baited breathe.

And yet it was there Percy who, through shuddered breaths managed to whisper a “fuck you...fuck you and your ministry”

“Well that is very rude, and here I thought your mother would have taught you manners” “don’t...don’t you talk about her.” Said Percy, Molly broke down into tears and Bill held her close. Unable to tear his gaze from the radio, no one could. 

“What do you want to say them? I’m sure they’ve missed you. In fact, just for you we’ll be hosting a party. And there all invited to the ministry, so long as they bring a certain Mr Potter.” 

There was a silence before “don’t come...don’t. Whatever you do, don’t... it’s fine. I’m fine, I love it here.” He laughed, everyone cringed at the sound he made, as if he was choking. “It’s fine, don’t come...parties are overrated yeah.” The transmission started cutting off, Ron frantically along with the twins tried to get it working. 

They heard “too busy. Don’t come, Harry don’t...stay where you are!” Before the  transmission cut off.

No one could speak, horror was etched into all of there faces. The twins were scrabbling over themselves with wand in hand to track where the transmission had come from. 

The Ministry. 

“We’re going...now” said Molly, standing up. Her tears were gone, grabbing for her wand and coat. “Molly...be rationale, we need to plan this.” Said Arthur, Molly spun on her heel and glared. “I am not going to sit here while those...monsters torture MY son! Planning will take to long, did you hear him Arthur?! Did you hear your son crying out in pain...he doesn’t have long left...” Arthur looked down, unable to respond. 

Molly looked at the rest of the family, her gaze saying it all: You can come with me or you can stay. The first to stand was Bill, closely followed by Fleur who met his thankful gaze with a determined smile. Charlie and Ron were next, grabbing there wands with Harry and Hermione following. Ginny and the twins exchanged guilty looks but stood. Arthur couldn’t look at any of them, he simply picked up his wand. 

“Harry, I understand if you wish to stay” said Molly, he shook his head. “I might not know him well but Percy’s family 2...I cant sit here while you guys go even with the danger.” He replied, and somehow that was all it was, Percy was family...enough said. 

And so the family of lions got up and left, to find the one they left behind. 

_______________________________________________________

Percy was terrified.

A part of him argued that he should be grateful they came at all for him. Maybe it was out of pity, out of ensuring that he wasn't able to be used against them.

Yes, that's all it was. He was nothing afterall, he was merely a civilian in a war.

And yet hearing Molly tearfully and frantically whisper his name. Hearing Hermione yell the counterspell to his imprisonment to Ron who did so perfectly. Seeing the light of spells cast by Ginny and the twins to stun Not Edward... (Who was apparently called Edgar... Eh close enough.)

Feeling Charlie carry him in his arms, mumbling curse words. Smelling Arthur's cologne.

It all felt right. It was warmth that he couldn't remember experiencing. It was enough to lull him to a facade that everything was fine.

But when his wounds were healed and he saw them all looking at him... Percy knew he had to shelf that dream. "I told you not to come" was the first thing he said, averting his gaze. (Couldn't look them in the eye)

"And you must've lost a few screws if you thought we wouldn't" said Bill, meeting Percy's gaze. "You shouldn't have" is all he replied. "And what, let you be killed by the ministry?" Gaped Ginny. Percy shrugged "wouldn't have made much difference, you've only gone and put yourselves in more danger."

"Are you... Are you fucking with us right now?" Asked Fred, incredously. "No, im too busy ranting about cauldron bottoms to do that." And if Fred paused, Percy didn't see it.

Seeing as no one was getting anyway, Bill sat beside Percy who immediately felt on edge. "Thanks for the watch" he said simply. Everyone blinked in confusion and than realisation as no one has known where Bill's new watch had come from. Percy smiled faintly "You're welcome, reminded me of you."

"Although, I do wish you could've gave it in person" continued Bill, testing the waters. Percy surprised him by shaking his head "no you wouldn't have. It was your day, I wasn't going to ruin it." Bill frowned "is that what you think?" Percy shrugged again "it's what I've been told."

"You are way to chill after being tortured" said Charlie, Percy looked at his bandaged arms and snorted. "Eh? It's nothing new. That guy was just there for the theatrics, sadist if you ask me." Charlie raised an eyebrow "nothing new?" Percy nodded "yeah, what you think the ministry that's so far up Voldermorts ass would allow me to work there without some 'interviews'."

Everyone paled.

"But than why stay there?" Asked Arthur, Percy froze. Steeling himself, switching from calm to panic to calm in an instant but they all saw. "I've got business there, things I need to get done and ensure are done. Speaking of which, thanks for the rescue but I should be off."

He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

"Percy, you can stay." Said Molly, already standing up to get his room prepared. "No, I can't. I have work, I have a duty... And I'm no longer part of this family." When he said that, Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him but stood his ground. "Percy... That's not true.."

Percy met Arthur's gaze, his father's eyes. "Really? Than pray tell why did no one tell me you were all in hiding... Or a warning? And don't say it was impossible because I managed to send a parcel to a location I didn't even know about nor knew existed."

No one could answer that.

"I'll be off, and don't worry I won't tell them anything. Just do what you do best, and leave me alone." Arthur managed to grab Percy's wrist though he hissed in pain and pulled his arm back like he'd been burnt. "Don't.. Touch me, Arthur Weasely."

Arthur recoiled, Percy looked away. "I spent my whole life wanting to be someone you could be proud off...I listened to all the critism and yes I was a prat. But the moment I made my own choice you already made me aware I didn't belong in my own house. I’m sorry...that I’m not athletic like Ginny, I’m not smart like Ron or as successful as Bill and Charlie, I’m not a hero like a Ron or fun like Fred and George. That I’m just plain ol prat Percy.”

He began to walk away. Just like he did before.

"That choice was against following Dumbledor, turning against the light." Said Molly, wanting him to understand. Percy laughed, with no humour at all but glaring hard. Rage emanated from him.

"I'm sorry if I choose not to stand behind an old coot who routinely sends an abused boy to his abusers, who nearly got 3 11 yearolds killed because he wanted to weed out a possibility. Who nearly got thousands of children killed and did nothing to save Ginny with the chamber. The man who wouldn't give an innocent man a trial and got him sent to the worst prison for 12 years... Who put teenagers in a death game and let an underage kid join because why not. That man is a monster and I refuse to follow someone like that. But no that means I'm blindly following authority." He sneered, staring at them all.

"And the ministry? Because as corrupt and fucked up as it is I know I can do something. That changes can be made in the systems to benefit everyone, Dumbledor is someone who breeds child solider’s and let's a known abuser teach at his school and somehow I’m the only one who isn't okay with that."

And with that Percy left, no one knew what to say. They simply sat in silence, absorbing everything they just heard. Ginny thought about how Percy had profusely apologised after she was free from the chamber, how he’d made time for her since than. Ron thought of all the times they’d have an adventure and Percy would watch over them like a mother hen. 

Bill and Charlie recalled when Percy would still come to them for help before he started Hogwarts. When they found him bruised and broken from bullies except this was because of them. “He really thinks that doesn’t he...?” Said Fred, George nodded. Neither could smile, guilt pooled in their hearts that they didn’t think he felt like that. 

Molly sobbed for her son who was once again lost and Arthur wondered where he had gone wrong to lose his son all over again. 

________________________________________________

Meanwhile Percy entered a muggle flat in London. Alone again just like he belonged, laying on his bed and looking at the brand on his arm.

'Son of none'

And if that didn't hurt most of all.

Suffice to say they all things to think about for when they’d meet again. 

#percy weasley #Percy Weasely deserved better #angst #self loathing #depression #Percy Weasely needs a hug #blood #Torture #swearing #Sorry if it's rushed

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 4

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Finally, after fifteen minutes of staring at her mostly full coffee cup, Mulder tosses both their drinks in the trash and trudges back to the Hoover building. He had plans to work late, but seeing Scully makes focusing on work impossible so he goes home to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling instead, replaying their one-sided conversation over and over. Upon reflection, he realizes that he didn’t speak a single word to her other than her name. He was paralyzed, his feelings for her in direct conflict with his desire to never again feel the way he felt after she left his apartment that final time. He wishes that he’d asked her what she wanted from him, why she was there.

The phone rings and he rolls off the couch to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Will, I’m surprised you’re home. I was expecting to leave you a message.”

He smiles at the coincidence of Valerie calling him at this exact moment; she always seems to intuit when he needs to hear from her. Like he does with everyone, he had directed her to call him by his last name when they met. She did so for a while, but when things took a turn towards the intimate she informed him that she could not call a man she was sleeping with “Mulder” and sought to find an alternate moniker, Fox being out of the question. He was Maverick for a bit, then Sly, and for a brief moment Doug (he was never clear on the origin of that one). Ultimately, she went with his middle name, William, and finally shortened it to Will.

“Oh, and why’s that? My bustling social calendar?” he retorts, finding his way back to the couch and sitting heavily.

Valerie snorts. “More like your hopeless addiction to work. How are you? It’s been too long.”

Mulder sighs. “I’m...okay.”

“That bad, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

He considers the question. Talking to his ex-girlfriend about another woman seems a bit uncouth. “I’m not sure it’s something you’d want to weigh in on.”

“Girl trouble, then?” she says with a smile in her voice.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Spill it,” she demands.

He tells her everything, about meeting Scully, about getting to know her, falling in love with her. He spares some of the gory details on their sexual encounter and her visit the next morning. He finishes on seeing her that day, and the reason he begged off work early. This is the most he’s shared with anyone about Scully, The Gunmen being great friends, but not the sort you seek dating advice from. It feels good to get it all out.

“Damn, Will. That’s a lot. Shouldn’t you be happy, though, after seeing her today?” He can hear the crunch of potato chips as she speaks, ever the dedicated snacker.

“It was good to see her in a sense, but it also feels a bit like a step backward. Like I’ve lost progress in the effort to move on.” He’s lying down now, one leg kicked over to rest on the coffee table and Priscilla curled up on his belly.

“I don’t get it,” Valerie says deadpan.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You’ve been pining over this woman for the better part of a year, and she turns up to tell you she’s single and she realizes that she should have chosen you all along. That’s somewhat of a fairy tale ending, is it not? Aside from the whole cheating-on-her-fiancé-part, I guess.”

“No, Val, she said that getting involved with me was a mistake, which I already knew. If anything she was rubbing it in, which seems uncharacteristically cruel.” He runs a hand down Priscilla’s back and she cracks an irritated eye at him until he stops.

“Oh my god, Will,” Valerie replies, pulling the phone away from her cheek and sighing in exasperation. “You know, for all that fancy education your parents paid for, you’re really dense sometimes.”

“Well then by all means, enlighten me.”

“She said she ignored the signs and made the wrong choice. She’s divorced now. The marriage was the wrong choice, you dolt. That other guy was the wrong choice. The signs were telling her you were the right one.”

Mulder sits up suddenly, Priscilla clinging to his chest in a last-ditch attempt not to get dumped on the floor and piercing his skin painfully. She ends up on the couch beside him.

“How sure are you about that?” he asks, his heart starting to race.

“Pretty damn sure. The way you describe her, she sounds like a thoughtful person. I don’t see what motivation she’d have to reiterate to you that what happened was a mistake; she’d already made that clear in the first go-round. The only reason she’d want to say all that to you is if she realized she was wrong. She wanted to set the record straight, and apologize. Not for what happened with you, but for choosing the other guy.” He can hear the slurp of her eating something like soup in between sentences, the wet smacks making this revelation sound like an offhand comment.

He’s quiet for a long moment, replaying his interaction with Scully today through the lense of her wishing she’d walked away from Ethan, that she’d chosen him. He closes his eyes. Does he dare hope that Valerie is right?

“You still there, Will?” she asks impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m just...trying to wrap my head around all this.”

“Well, I gotta run, so hopefully you can do your ruminating solo. I didn’t even get to tell you the reason I called.” He can hear her up and moving about, opening and closing drawers and cupboards.

“Shit, you’re right. Sorry. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant,” she says, and then waits a beat before adding “it’s not yours, if that’s where your brain is going. We haven’t slept together in almost two years, you may recall.”

“Uh, yeah...yeah I do recall that seeing as I haven’t slept with anyone in almost two years. Are you...should I be offering congratulations? This is a good thing?” He’s hesitant, unsure if they’ve reached a stage of life where a pregnancy is happy news.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. I’ve been seeing this guy for a little over six months. It wasn’t planned, but we’re excited. The relationship is still pretty new, obviously, but I think I can see myself growing old on a porch swing with him.” There’s a smile in her voice, a dreamy contentedness that makes his chest ache. It’s the reason they broke up, so they might each have a chance at something like this. He hopes he’ll have his chance too.

“That’s great, Val. I’m happy for you,” he says with a tight voice.

“Thanks, Will. Sounds like you found your person, too. You just gotta go out and get her.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“What does she call you, by the way?”

“She calls me Mulder.”

Valerie laughs softly. “Must be fate.”

———

The days since seeing Mulder have been dreary, both in terms of the weather and her mood. She has already lectured Missy repeatedly over her terrible advice to see him again, opening up fresh wounds and sealing shut doors that she had previously held out hope might open again. The morose look on his face as she admitted that she wished she’d chosen him was a kick to the gut. It was too late, far too late, and he wasn’t able to forgive her. Though it’s what she knows she deserves, it still hurts.

She sits in the clean and quiet autopsy bay, filling out paperwork that she tends to reserve for the end of her days. She’s been working more overtime lately, in no rush to return to an empty apartment and be alone with her thoughts and self recrimination. The idea of dating seems obscene, and yet she can admit that she’s lonely. But not lonely for just anyone; she wants only the one person she knows she will never have.

“Excuse me,” calls out a smooth baritone from behind her, and she turns on her stool to see Mulder there. His charcoal grey suit and white dress shirt stand in contrast against his red tie, one hand in his pocket in an attempt to be casual. The cool bravado she saw in him before is absent, replaced with something vulnerable and raw. She feels adrenaline rush through her limbic system, stealing from her the ability to speak.

“I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he continues, and she feels a rock in her gut. He had to come here for work, and see her again. She feels guilty for existing in a space that he is forced to enter.

“I’m the pathologist on duty,” she responds regretfully.

He approaches her cautiously, taking the stool beside her without invitation, and considers her for a moment. With a look of trepidation, he holds out his hand and she gives him a quizzical look.

“Fox Mulder,” he says, his green eyes so earnest and open. There is no anger, no resentment.

“Dana Scully,” she replies, her voice catching as she understands, slipping her hand into his.

They are starting over. A clean slate. A new chance to get it right.

“You don’t look like a Dana,” he says, and there’s just a hint of playfulness in his voice.

She laughs, her mouth smiling while her eyes glaze over with tears. Their hands still clasped, he pulls her close, her stool rolling into the space between his knees as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. She should be embarrassed by this unprofessional display out in the open, but the only feeling she can muster is relief at the smell of his cologne and the press of his chest into her cheek. How many nights has she mourned the loss of this? Hundreds. Perhaps last night will be the final time.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?” he asks against her hair and she laughs again, nodding as her cheek brushes his shoulder. “Are you free now?” he adds.

She pulls back and looks at him, his eyes shining back at her with hope they’d both given up on.

“Yes, I’m free,” she answers.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

[kominum]

semoto (corpse x fem!reader)

4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions 

pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context. 

basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:

sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life. 

sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while 

sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.  

sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.

fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension. 

1. “Whaddup, baby?” 

Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack. 

Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let’s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off, 

About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.

The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.

You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t. 

“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”

“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”

“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.” 

You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.

2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.

You’re so tired.

Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver. 

But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls. 

The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.” 

“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony. 

“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”

“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”

“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”

“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Not your baby, piss off!”

3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”

It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.

Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”

There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis. 

“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine. 

“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”

Warmth. Strength. Oblivion. 

“I know. Thank you.”

4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.” 

“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly. 

“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”

“I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way. 

The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name. 

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”

“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.” 

“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”

“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”

“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately. 

“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night. 

And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.

That you have no one else but Corpse. 

5. “He was never yours.”

There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times. 

This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak. 

You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech. 

“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”

Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition. 

“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void. 

“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all. 

“Are they talking about Corpse?”

“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”

“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”

“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind. 

“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here. 

“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.

“Is this a fucking test--”

Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be. 

“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”

It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”

“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”

Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?

And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee. 

“Do I have to give you an answer?”

“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”

They what? This was certainly news to you. 

“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively. 

Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--

“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”

You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more. 

“You have 10 seconds.” 

You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long. 

The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage. 

They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”

It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run. 

You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.

And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve. 

But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--

Forever out of reach. 

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x fem reader #corpse husband angst #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband

[kurama-is-love]

An unusual proposal (Oneshot)

It's been a while since I wrote in english, so please bear with me if this is not perfect. English is not my first language ;-;

Oh and this time it's a female Half!Demon/Human Reader x Kurama. Just to let you know! Again as warning, much much fluff between you and Kurama.

The Dark Tournament was looking forward to its grand finale.

Team Toguro faced Team Urameshi, consisting of Yusuke, Kuwabara, Hiei and Kurama. Their fifth member, Mask, or rather Genkai, was 'killed' in battle by the younger Toguro brother the night before. Although you and your friends mourned about your deceased comrade, the others were not allowed to give in to their feelings now. One single mistake could result in the next death, everyone knew that.

You hadn't left your friend's side since the beginning of the Tournament and you were even allowed to stay at their side near the battle field. Though now you were concerned about the last battle.   You had asked to stand in for Mask as the fifth participant, but before you were able to speak to the competition officials, you were prevented from doing so by your friends, mostly Yusuke and especially Kurama. It was a lengthy and exhausting discussion that followed with the two of them. Yusuke was anything but calm and tried to dissuade you from your idea with irrelevant threats for "beating the shit out of you if you continue to try to participate". Of course he would never lay a finger on a friend, especially not if he were to draw the wrath of a certain fox on him ..

Speaking of the fox. It was Kurama's empathetic and factually convincing words that finally led you to abandon your idea and not take part in the fight. As much as you hated not being able to stand by your friends, it was clear to you aswell that you would not survive 2 minutes in the ring against a member of this diabolical team from Toguro .. It was just maddening ..

Before the fight started, you cleared your throat to attract the attention of your friends.

"Before you fight, I want to get rid of something .." you began and looked at the ground slightly.

"Spit it out, [Y/n]-chan." Kuwabara tried with a calm and understanding tone of voice to reassure you that none of them were mad at you for your earlier discussions. He thought that, because you were trembling all over and he could also tell that you were fighting back tears.

"I want you .. to be extra careful this time .. Your opponents are of a completely different caliber than all your opponents before .. And if ..Uh.. when you notice that you .. can't do it .. that you. . " you stopped, the thought of what should follow your sentence stung your heart. "... you will die if you keep going .. I beg you to give up .. just give up and end the fight .. Fuck this stupid tournament, your lives are way too precious ..!" you spoke a little louder and more determined as you looked at your four friends.

Hiei's expression was disinterested as always. Kuwabara looked away, slightly embarrassed, while Kurama had put on an illegible expression. Yusuke crossed his arms before briefly closing his eyes.

"Sorry, but we can't promise that." he said then.

"W-What ..?"

When you looked up, startled, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Yusuke's.

"If we give up, everything was in vain. Our training, the preliminary fights. And ... also the death of that old witch ... The least we owe her is to try to defeat her killer." He continued serious, but his face showed no sign of annoyance or anger towards you. He showed you .. friendliness and a small smile. "Anyway, thank you for taking care of us all. With that knowledge, we can do our best," he added.

"B-But .." your quiet objections were stopped again when Kurama took Yusuke's place and put both hands on your shoulders. A slightly worried smile graced his pale lips.

"Yusuke is right. If we give up here, everything we have been through so far will be wasted. Besides .." he continued and his expression darkened slightly as he looked at his opponents, especially at Karasu. "..we can't allow these .. monsters to continue their mischief to continue their murders in the world of spirits, demons and humans. If we don't stop them, who should do it?" he asked you.

You didn't know the answer and looked to the side. Kurama smiled sadly and put his hand on your cheek to turn your face back to him.

"Just trust us, okay?" He said softly and lovingly before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Kurama .. I trust you. But I'm still scared okay ..?"

"That's perfectly okay." The redhead whispered and you sighed softly.

"I'm serious. I don't want to go through the same fear that I did during your fight against Bakken ..."

"Mhm .."

[Flashback]

The battle against the members of Team Masho had reached worrying proportions after Kurama lost consciousness while standing shortly after he was named as the victor in the battle against the ice demon Touya by Koto. The rules of this match were like an endless battle. As long as a member could fight, he fought against any opponent. This is exactly how he had defeated Gama at first and was able to win against Touya with the last of his strength. But now the luck of the kitsune seemed to have run out when he stood bleeding and unconscious on the battlefield and Koto checked whether he was still alive.

"That's enough now! I'll take over for Kurama!" Yusuke called to the judge when the third opponent, a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair, stepped out.

"Not so fast. That guy is still there, so I'm his opponent now." The shinobi grinned maliciously and was already flexing his fists.

"You can't be serious! You can see that he is not able to fight!" You said and looked angry at Bakken.

"You stay out of it, you brat. I say: He can fight." With these words he turned to Koto, who looked back and forth between the two parties, perplexed.

"Well .. Well .. I also think that Kurama is incapacitated. We have to wait for the decision of the competition committee before an exchange takes place .." the cat demon spoke uncertainly.

All attention was then turned to the speakers when the committee announced its decision. They disagreed with the exchange and declared Kurama's ability to fight.

Yusuke and you had to watch in shock when Bakken started hit the unconscious Kurama again and again and injured him so badly that it was a miracle if he could survive this ordeal for long. When Bakken pulled Kurama up by his top and beat him again, the fabric on the top tore and Kurama fell to the ground. Blood ran down his forehead.

While you could only watch in shock, the stadium echoed under the calls of the demonic audience, who very unanimously demanded only one thing.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him, Bakken!"

"Yes, kill this traitor !!!"

You clenched your fists in anger before turning to the bleachers.

"SHUT UP YOUR DAMN MOUTHS ALREADY!" you shouted so loudly that the stadium fell silent and Yusuke and the others looked at you too. "I CAN'T STAND YOUR HATE TIRADS ANYMORE! The next one who says anything about 'kill this bastard' will get a free ticket to hell from me. WAS THAT CLEAR?"

Your friends had seldom seen you so loud and serious. The girls, Botan, Shizuru, Keiko and Yukino were very shocked by your exclamation.

Suddenly one of the demons jumped down from the stands and stood next to you.

"Pretty loose mouth for such a shitty, weak half-breed, darling."the green-colored beast grinned and licked its lips with its iguana-like tongue. "You are nothing but a shabby one demon, who has human blood in them. It doesn't surprise me that you are on the traitors side. But don't open your mouth like that if you know what's good for you. " He threatened you.

Your eyebrow twitched menacingly as the demon extended its claws and tried to slit your stomach. You reached for your weapons,  chakrams, and a reddish-orange aura flooded the metal, your Reiki, mixed with Yoki. The audience held their breath when they could only hear lightning-fast cuts and white clouds of energy sliced the demon that was attacking you until the attacker fell dead to the ground.

"Anyone else has something to say to a " failed half-breed "? you asked the ranks, but the audience fell silent before you could finally devote yourself to the fighting again.

"T-That's enough! Kurama is on the ground and can no longer fight! I think a countdown is also unnecessary .." Koto interrupted the scene now when she saw the battered Kurama.

Bakken seemed to disagree and lifted Kurama up in the air again by his top.

"Now he's standing again. That means the fight goes on."the black-haired man smirked and wanted to make the final punch that should blow out Kurama's life light forever.

"Stop. That's enough, Bakken." a masked figure behind Bakken, another member of Team Mascho, spoke up.

"Why are you stopping me, Risho? I was just about to finish it." Bakken grumbled while Risho pointed to the opposite side of the arena.

"If you had landed this punch, that would have been your death." Risho spoke only dryly, while Bakken blinked and looked in the direction in which Risho was pointing.

Yusuke and you stood there, both of you in your strongest attacking postures. Yusuke was ready to use his "Rei-Gun" while your chakrams had turned into icy-tessen (Metal fans), the tips of their spikes were reinforced with your Reiki and turned into razor-sharp blades that could be shot individually. You were both ready to kill Bakken if he made any move.

"Tch. Fine. Well, you can have him back." Bakken sighed and threw Kurama carelessly out of the ring. Yusuke and you immediately rushed to the passed out Kitsune and Yusuke carried him to the edge of the ring. You were right behind him. After Yusuke dropped him off, you kneeled down at Kurama's side and looked up your human best friend.

"Yusuke." You spoke in a serious tone. Yusuke turned to you. questioningly. "... Beat the shit out of him. Hit that asshole really hard with a greeting from me." You muttered with bared teeth. Yusuke grinned and gave you a thumbs-up.

"Rely on me, [Y/n]. I will make sure that he gets a proper rubdown. And greetings from you. Just take care of our Kurama." Yusuke answered with a wink.

You nodded gently and put your hands on Kurama's damaged chest to let your Reiki flow into his body. That should give him enough energy to activate his own self-healing powers. At least that was how it prevented him from having too little energy.

He almost died ..

When Kurama woke up a little later, he promised you to never again risk his life so lightly.

[End of flashback]

"Remember your promise." you said softly and took Kurama's hand in yours to give it an affectionate squeeze. The fox just looked at you apologetically, but he was weighing whether he could really tell you that he couldn't keep this promise.

"I'm sorry. This may be my first promise, which I can't keep, as much as I would like to. But ..." he began before you could sigh in frustration. Kurama smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll give you a new promise for that." He said and made you blink in curiousity.

"One that you will keep?" you asked.

Kurama smiled and pulled you close for a moment.

"Yes. I promise you, if I survive my fight against Karasu .." he almost sounded as if he didn't believe in it himself, which only unsettled you even more. "... I will take you as my wife as soon as my human body is 18 years old."

Your eyes widened, speechless, at these words. Kurama, who had sworn off love and certainly did not want to settle down in the human world, had just given you the promise of marriage if he should emerge victorious from the battle ..

"K-Kurama .." you started, touched, when the Kitsune put his index and middle fingers on your lips and gently shook his head.

"I have to go into the ring now." He said, because the referee Juri had to call his name again.

Kurama broke away from you and went to the battlefield, where Karasu was already waiting for him. You held your breath as the fight began. It was going to be the hardest fight of all time for him, you were sure of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The fight was clearly dominated by Karasu for a long time, who seemed to foresee every one of Kurama's steps. His rosewhip basically crumbled to dust before it could hit Karasu due to a miniature bomb that the black-haired man had already placed. Knowing that Kurama would resort to his signature attack.

Even the transformation into his Youko form only briefly gave Kurama the upper hand in this fight.

Karasu was strong, incredibly strong. Kurama was already bleeding profusely on his legs and arms from the bombs that hit his flesh. The transformation into his demon form had already reached its limits. Now everything seemed to be over for the redhead when he went down and his robe was already completely bathed in red blood.

It was a horrible sight, almost worse than Bakken's back then. Kurama stopped moving when Karasu tried to put an end to it.

With the very last of his strength, Kurama was able to mobilize his last reserves and thus also make his Reiki to zero when he conjured up a large, gray plant. Shortly afterwards he sagged dead and his friends, as well as you, cried out in agony.

"KURAMA!"

Karasu stopped. Not because he thought his opponent was dead, but because something had pierced his chest. Everyone stared in disbelief at the three vines of the plant that Kurama had conjured up with his last strength. They seemed to suck out Karasus blood.

"What is happening?" Kuwabara asked in disbelief.

"The plant sucks out its blood. Like a vampire." You explained and looked a little more composed again. Apparently you knew this technique. Since dated Kurama, the others weren't surprised.

Before the crowd could properly process what had happened, Karasu fell to the ground. His skin was pale from massive blood loss and his eyes were blank and torn. He was dead.

But what about Kurama?

Kurama opened his eyes. The bleeding wounds had closed again as if by a miracle and he straightened up slightly wobbly. Did the vampire plant fed him with the blood of his victim to save his life? It was the only logical explanation.

Tears now ran down your cheeks. No tears of sadness, tears of infinite joy. He was alive. Kurama had kept his promise and survived this fight.

Without hesitation for a second, after Juri made him the winner, you ran onto the battlefield and threw Kurama to the ground in a stormy embrace. The Redhead was unprepared for the impact and lost balance when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot." You repeated several times, still sobbing slightly. This kitsune almost seemed to enjoy causing you so much grief by letting himself be beaten up in every fight.

Kurama smiled gently and caressed your back soothingly.

"Ssh. Everything is fine.", He whispered and heard only briefly loud sobs before you pulled away from him and stared at him.

"DO. THAT. NEVER. AGAIN." You warned and if Kurama wasn't grinning at you so sweetly, your anger would also come across convincingly. Instead, you just sighed softly and patted him gently on the shoulder. "But you also have to keep your promise," you added.

"Don't worry, I will." Kurama chuckled and turned to Yusuke with a hand sign. You blinked perplexed when Yusuke grinned and threw a small velvet box to him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that it was a box with a beautifully decorated rose on the lid.

"Kurama .."

Kurama got on one knee and took your hand in his.

"I should do this formally and properly, don't you think?" He laughed and you suddenly realized something.

"... You already planned everything in advance, right ...?" You wanted to know.

Kurama gave a small laugh and kissed your palm lovingly before looking intensely into your eyes.

"Quite possible. No, but .. I've never met a woman like you in my life - and that applies to my human and demonic life - and I never expected to lose my heart to someone who makes me as happy as you. "

"Kurama .."

Kurama smirked when you didn't let him finish and cleared his throat to continue.

"Originally I wanted to stay in the human world because my mother and my friends were so close to my heart. But now there is another reason why I don't want to leave this world anymore. I want you by my side until the end of my days and ... start a family with you. In the human world. That is why I ask you, here and now, [First Name] [Last Name], do you want to be my wife and eternal mate? ", He asked and opened the box. Inside it was the most beautiful diamond ring you ever saw. Its sides were adorned with two beautiful jewels, a shiny [gem with your eye color] and a shimmering emerald. It was more than obvious that these jewels symbolized the eye colors of the both of you.

"Yes .. Yes, I want Kurama. Of course I want that!" You said overjoyed and let a smiling Kurama put the ring on your finger before he pulled you to him and kissed you passionately.

"U-Unbelievable! A marriage proposal during the final of the Dark Tournament! I've never seen anything like it!"Koto announced, she sat in the crowd as the second announcer and looked dreamily at the engaged couple.

You smiled and looked at the ring.

"So beautiful. But something's missing," you mumbled.

"Huh?", Kurama asked and you turned to him and grinned slightly.

"A topaz." You answered with a smile.

Now Kurama was the one whose eyes widened and he even blushed a little.

A topaz as golden as Youko Kurama's eyes. His demon form.

Now he was more certain than ever. He would never let you go again. He swore to himself.

#kurama x reader #kurama #youko kurama #youko kurama x reader #shuichi minamino #shuichi minamino x reader #yyh #Yu Yu Hakusho

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 5)

This is the fifth chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

This and the fourth chapter are also inspired by the “Distance” and “Talk to me” animatics by @suerakocy, so please check that out and give the artist some praise. They deserve it so much, because those pieces are beautiful.

Summary: It takes Lance years to come back to the Garrison but, when he does, his friends are there for him.

We finally get Lance pining hour!

Trigger warning: Talk of PTSD and mention of blood, but no description of violence. The story really just starts right in it.

24 and 22 years old

Lance woke up to a dark, quiet room and for a moment he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. The air felt stuck in his throat, because as soon as he inhaled the sound of his haggard breathing would break the silence and alert whatever awaited in the shadows.

But there’s nothing there, Lance told himself.

He had dreamt of the war, again. In his nightmare, there was another explosion and Lance hadn’t been quick enough to shield whoever was with him in the room. The darkness that followed was oppressing, dense enough that he’d felt like it was water flooding his lungs.

And then the water had turned into blood.

He sat up in bed, trying to control his shaking. It had taken years and a lot of therapy, but Lance had managed not to fall into panic attacks every time such memories made their way into his dreams. Still, he was glad to have built his own house on the farm grounds. His parents deserved a good night’s rest, especially after what Lance had put them through during his time with Voltron.

He reached for his cellphone with unsteady fingers. After their last battle against the Galra, Lance had learned to leave it on during his sleep, just in case he woke up like this: with adrenaline running through his veins and the vague sensation that something was terribly wrong.

He hesitated over his contact list, before finally scrolling down and pressing call. It didn’t take long for the other person to answer.

“Is anyone hurt?” was Keith’s greeting.

“No.” Lance swallowed once, trying to erase the grit from his voice. “Nightmare.”

There was a second of silence and then the rustle of sheets. “Okay.” He heard Keith exhale harshly, but Lance knew it wasn’t in annoyance. The whole team had gone through this more times than they could count. “Okay.” Keith seemed a little calmer now. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” Lance confessed. He leaned against the headboard and pulled his knees up. It was easier to concentrate on his breathing when he wasn’t lying down. “It was Sendak’s first attack, again.”

“You’ve been thinking about that one a lot lately.” Keith’s observation made Lance grind his teeth. It was true, but he didn’t need to say it.

“Could you call her?” Lance breathed out. His voice sounded pained and he winced, thankful that only Keith was privy to it.

“Lance, we can’t keep doing this.” His friend’s tone was weighted with his own share of hurt. “If you want to know how she is, then you need to call Pidge.”

“I do call Pidge. Just not…”

“Not when you are feeling vulnerable?” Keith sighed into the phone, sounding more tired than normal.

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?” Lance latched onto this realization. He felt stupid not to have recognized it earlier, with how quickly Keith had answered the call.

“Don’t change the subject.” The reply came harshly and it only served to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m not! We made a deal to call one another if the flashbacks started again.” He lit up the lamp on his nightstand and frowned at the pictures he kept on the opposing wall, as if it could make the real Keith feel his irritation. “Would you have talked to anyone if I hadn’t called?”

“My mom is here with me,” Keith admitted after a moment. “She and Kolivan have kept me company while Xitry is away.”

Lance let relief replace his anger. “Are both Xitry and Acxa on a mission?”

“Yeah… My leg still isn’t completely healed, so I couldn’t join them. Acxa will take another phoeb to come home, but Xitry should be back in a few days.” Keith paused and there was the sound of other muffled voices. “Mom says you should call Pidge.”

“You are a traitor and a hypocrite.” Lance scowled, despite how no one could see him.

Keith scoffed and Lance could feel the mockery in his expression even so many miles away. “I have called my partners every day they’ve been gone. Can you say the same?”

“Pidge is not my partner!” he protested, feeling heat rise up his neck.

“No, she’s just the first person you think about when waking up from a nightmare and then you call me, because if you called Hunk he would just spill it to her first chance he got.” Lance did not appreciate all the sarcasm Keith was giving him.

“I just want to be sure that she’s okay!” He frowned down at his knees, picking at a piece of lint that stuck to his pajama pants.

“Then ask her yourself!” Keith, too, was being too loud for the middle of the night. His vexation almost felt like a victory to Lance. “Pidge is smart, she can tell there’s something strange about my calls.”

“How are you a spy with this kind of acting skills?” Lance chastened.

“I’m no longer a spy, remember? I’m part of a humanitarian organization!” He heard Keith take a deep breath. “This would be much easier if you just told Pidge you’re in love with her.”

The words gave him pause. Lance didn’t yet know how to describe what he felt for Pidge. She was one of his best friends, the person who had stuck around the most after the team went their separate ways. Shiro had his own family to rebuild, and Keith and Hunk had a whole universe to help stabilize.

Pidge and Lance had found their own goals, but staying on Earth allowed them to check in on each other much more often.

“She doesn’t see me like that, Keith.” Lance hadn’t meant to sound so defeated, but it came out that way.

“Yeah, well, neither did Allura, but you wore her out.”

The reminder didn’t bring the same pain it would have a few years earlier.

Lance knew that he would always love Allura, but his feelings had settled into a more comfortable kind of affection. With the privilege of hindsight, Lance was able to see that their relationship didn’t have the same base as his friendship with the other paladins. Even if she had lived, Allura would have left to be queen, too invested in the rebuilding of Altean society.

And Lance would have stayed on Earth. That had never been in question. He had put his family through enough suffering while with Voltron.

He had seen the greatness in Allura when he was only eighteen, but that also meant he would have stepped aside if he thought their relationship was putting a strain in both of them. He didn’t regret the time they’d had together, but her continuous rejections had also taught Lance to value himself.

Keith’s voice snapped Lance out of his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to bring up Allura.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lance rubbed his eyes. “I just… I don’t want Pidge to think of Allura if I ever do ask her out.”

“I can’t promise you that.” He respected Keith’s honesty, even though it did nothing to calm his worries. “But she will never see you as a romantic prospect if you don’t make things clear to her. As far as Pidge knows, you’re still in mourning.”

Again, Keith was right. Lance had been ruminating this notion for quite some time. There were times when he still felt indebted to Allura, like he was the one responsible for maintaining her legacy, but the years had given him enough maturity to understand that was a burden Allura would wish on no one.

It was difficult to take the first steps towards a new future when he’d spent so long wallowing in the darkness of the war. In the middle of it all, Pidge had been a beacon of light, a safe port for him to rest his mind. It was no wonder that he had fallen for her.

“I’m thinking of going back to the Garrison.” He swallowed thickly, the fear of this confession rising up to knot at his throat.

The line went silent for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled. “I’ve been working with Shiro and Doctor Holt, because the quintessence Allura left in me allows me to interact with Altean technology a little better than most. And since I’ve put my pilot license to good use in my travels, Shiro said the officers are ready to reinstate me.”

“That’s amazing, Lance!” It was weird to hear Keith sound so enthusiastic.

“I think that’s why the memories are coming back again, actually.” His next exhale came out shaky and forced. “I keep thinking of the Garrison and I just – I’m afraid that I’ll get there and it will be too much.”

“The place has changed a lot since the war,” Keith assured him. “Even if something happened, though, Shiro and Pidge are there to help you through. This could be really good for you.”

Lance snickered at his directness. Keith didn’t hide his opinions, didn’t coddle him like so much of his family. “So you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” His friend’s voice was blunt, without the dramatics that Lance himself would have added to such a statement. “Which is not saying much,” Keith teased.

“Hardy har har.” But Lance felt a smile pull at his mouth. “Does that mean you will call Pidge for me?”

There was a groan from the other side of the line. “Lance, no. I’m putting my foot down.”

“What? Why?” he complained and, with his movement, one of the pillows slipped to the ground. Lance glared at it.

“Because I’m sick of watching two of my closest friends dance circles around each other.” Keith sounded increasingly exasperated. “Talk. To. Her. Pidge is a tough girl, but she has grown a lot. She won’t be mad at you for calling.”

“I know that!” Lance grumbled.

“Then do it!” Before he could disagree, Keith had already hung up the phone.

Lance stared at the screen in discontentment. The display told him it was just before 4 am in Varadero, meaning that it wasn’t even 2 am in Arizona. His talk with Keith had distracted him from the nightmare, but now that Lance was alone with his thoughts images of it had begun to flash in his mind.

Against the dimly lit wall of his bedroom, he could almost see the silhouette of Pidge’s younger self, her body contorted by the force of a blast Lance hadn’t been quick enough to protect her from.

His need to know Pidge was safe overrode his anxiety over disturbing her sleep.

The phone rang more times than it had with Keith, which was a bit nerve-wrecking, but also a relief. Lance hoped she was having a better rest than he was.

“Lance?” The breathiness of her voice made him swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, at a loss of what else to say.

“Nightmares?” From her low volume, Lance could tell that Pidge must have been at her parents’ house. He felt bad for disturbing them.

“You’re okay, right?” His words were jumbled together. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, but– You are safe, aren’t you?”

“I’m safe, Lance.” He closed his eyes, feeling the last of his distress leave him with the sound of her voice. “I’m glad you called, actually.”

He tilted his head back until it hit the headboard. “Were you dreaming of me, Pidgey-Pidge?”

“No,” she cut him off brusquely, “but I imagine you were dreaming of me.”

“Why would you think so?” He grimaced at how strangled his voice sounded.

“Because I know you have had Keith calling me for the past couple months.” Her no-nonsense attitude made Lance feel like a deer-in-headlights.

“I can’t believe he ratted me out!” Once again, Lance directed his glare at a photo of Keith on the wall. “I have some choice words for that half-alien tattletale!”

“Keep your words, he didn’t say anything.” Pidge heaved a sigh. “I just know you two. As soon as he mentioned the explosion Sendak caused, I knew he was acting on your behalf.”

Lance winced, but didn’t protest. He should have realized that Pidge couldn’t be tricked. Not only was she a certified genius, but her loyalty to her friends often translated into being more observant than one might like. She and Hunk had that in common: the uncanny ability to get involved in other people’s business.

“Keith dreams of Shiro or his father. When I do appear in his nightmares, it’s usually about not being able to grab me when we were in Honerva’s mindscape,” she went on. “That dude still harbors a displaced sense of responsibility towards us.” Her tone shifted into accusing. “Which we should not be exploiting.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to do that.” Lance slipped on the sheets until he was lying down again.

“What’s going on, Lance?” Pidge sounded concerned. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

There were many reasons, but none that he felt comfortable sharing. It had been a year since Lance had realized how much of an effect Pidge had on him, how happy he was to hear her voice, how warm his chest felt when she visited the farm. It wasn’t even a new development. He had loved her for as long as he could remember, so he couldn’t really define when it had gone from platonic to romantic.

Maybe the roots of it had always been there, hidden by the flashiness of other infatuations.

A part of him had resisted the urge to call Pidge because, despite how she probably knew him like the charted universe, he had hoped she would see strength in his recovery. Lance still wanted to be perceived as the hero who survived the war with a smile on his face and his psyche intact, no matter how far from the truth that might be.

“Shouldn’t it be easier?” he asked, so low that he hoped Pidge couldn’t hear him. “Shouldn’t I be over it?”

“Lance…” Even the way she sighed his name sent a shiver down his spine. “No. It shouldn’t be easy. We’ve talked about this.”

He had heard this from a number of therapists, as well as every other member of the team, but it was difficult to go against the ideals he’d created in his head.

“But you’re doing good,” Lance argued and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, without really seeing it.

“So are you, most of the time.” When Pidge said it like that, full of confidence, he could almost believe it. “When I feel like the memories are hurting me, I reach out. I come to see my parents, I stop by Shiro’s office.” She paused to take a breath. “I call you.”

Lance turned on his side, sticking the phone between his ear and the pillow. He badly wanted her to be there. They had slept side by side once, though he couldn’t remember the details of it. Even then, what had stuck out the most was the softness of her presence and the calm she provided.

He closed his eyes and focused on Pidge’s voice. “I really miss you.”

“I’m right here, Lance.” Like this, he could pretend she was in bed with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--

“I can’t believe you put a firewall to keep me out of your virtual diary, Pidge. It’s rude that you would think so low of me.”

Lance stopped short. It wasn’t the content of the conversation that surprised him, but the fact that it was Hunk’s voice, coming from the laboratories. His best friend had been on a diplomatic mission of two months and was supposed to contact Lance when he stopped on Arus to refuel his ship.

“I was clearly right, because you wouldn’t know of it unless you had tried to hack in.” And this was Pidge, sounding more incensed than he’d heard in quite some time. “I learned my lesson during our Garrison days, Hunk!”

“Shouldn’t you be buttering me up? You called me for help on this aircraft, young lady.” Lance almost snorted at this. He could already imagine the indignation on Pidge’s face.

“If I had known you’d be like this, I would have found a way to neutralize drag simply to negate your role here!” she spit back. From behind the glass walls, Lance observed the redness of her complexion and how her freckles disappeared into the color.

He expected Hunk to back down, but the man crossed his arms stubbornly and looked down his nose at Pidge. “You’re only saying that because I’m right.”

Lance knocked against a metallic frame on the door, which had been open.

“Team Punk is back at it?” He raised his hands in mock despair. “I knew I should have stayed home.”

“Lance!” Hunk rushed over to him, engulfing Lance in a hug. Over his shoulder, he saw Pidge hang back, but the anger had melted away from her expression. “Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, man. This little menace caught me on the way back from Firilar and she wanted me at the Garrison ASAP.”

“Yeah, I regret it now,” she retorted with a glare.

Hunk let Lance go in order to direct another exasperated look at Pidge.

“Hey there, Pidgeon.” Lance scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. She didn’t move from her spot on the workbench and he approached almost without thinking. “Long time no see.”

As soon as he was within reach, Pidge pulsed on the balls of her feet and threw her arms around his neck. Lance’s arms were around her with no hesitance, holding her up against his chest.

“Hello,” she muttered into his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Cabul complex with Shiro and Curtis?”

Even as she talked, Pidge didn’t give up her grip on him. It made laughter bubble up Lance’s throat. He’d been all around the world, assisting the Garrison centers in completing Earth’s first fully functioning planetary defense system, so it had been months since he’d last seen Pidge in person.

“I flew over once the installation was done. They needed me to activate the shields with quintessence, but then Arizona called.” She slowly slid down back to her feet, putting some space between them. “Something about needing their star pilot to test a new jet.”

He watched as first confusion, then realization dawned on Pidge’s face. To the side, he could see that Hunk was also grinning.

“Are you back? Don’t you lie to me, McClain!” She pushed at his shoulders, but there was excitement in her eyes.

“I’m back. I got the go-ahead earlier today.” He felt awkward under the combined stares of his two best friends. “I do remember telling you I wasn’t ready to retire. Guess my vacation ran a bit long.”

“Oh, man, we’re back together! The last time it was just the three of us in the Garrison we were still cadets.” Hunk jumped in, waving his arms widely. “I still couldn’t go on a simulator without getting motion-sickness! Lance still thought Pidge was a guy!”

“Yeah, I’m not making that mistake again.” Lance gave Pidge a cheeky once-over, making her flush.

She had let her hair grow out again. It was tied back in a long braid, but some strands had already escaped and framed her face in a reddish halo. She looked pretty like this, but Lance thought she was always pretty.

It had taken her some time to find middle ground between the androgyny of her adolescence and the femininity of Katie Holt. Lance hadn’t always been the most tactful during this period, but Pidge had known he meant well and that he was supportive of however she felt like expressing herself. It was nice to see her feel good in her own skin.

Pidge socked him on the arm. “We’ve talked about this, loverboy. No flirting with me unless you want a new bruise.”

“But, Pidgeon,” he put a hand over his heart, “this is how I show my love.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Hunk put a hand on their shoulders. “We don’t want to start a fight right next to the billion-dollar prototype.”

“Fine,” Lance drew out his vowels, making a show of it. “Honestly, though, you two look good.”

He wasn’t just saying this. Coming back to the Garrison allowed him to juxtapose the images of who Pidge and Hunk had been with their current selves.

Hunk hadn’t grown much taller and he had maintained the same robustness from their first meeting, but the anxiety that had followed him as a teenager now gave way to self-assuredness. He didn’t curl into himself anymore when going past other groups of students, nor did he cower in the face of Garrison officers.

They were all still young and maybe a little broken up after Voltron, but it had also taught them a lot about themselves and their worth. It was nice to see.

And then there was Pidge. With her long hair, her high-tech glasses, her unconventional wardrobe. She was nothing like what younger Lance had thought he wanted in a girl, but that didn’t stop her from occupying all of his thoughts.

“You do too!” Hunk exclaimed, clearly a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen you this excited in years.”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled, unable to stop himself. “It feels good to be back. We’ll see how things go with the other MFE pilots, but I’m not too worried.” He wiggled his brows at Hunk. “I’m pretty sure I can charm the pants out of them.”

“And if that fails, you can always count on Shiro and I to intimidate people,” Pidge cut in, a teasing smile on her face, but there was a deeper current of truth to her words. They had his back and Lance was grateful for it.

“I’m pretty intimidating myself.” Lance smirked. “We just need Keith and then the gang will be completed: the Garrison bad boys, who stole a prisoner and disappeared into the night!” He made a motion in the air, like a ship cutting through the sky.

“I take it back, I don’t want to be associated with you.” Pidge’s dry comment earned a laugh from Hunk and a pout from Lance.

“Oh, come on, Pidge!” He draped an arm around the girl to pull her closer, but Pidge didn’t react as he’d hoped. She leveled him with unimpressed eyes, making no move to acknowledge their proximity. Lance found himself as the one feeling flustered and hurried to mask his discomfort. “You could at least say you’re happy to have me around.”

“Of course I’m happy, Lance,” she conceded with little fanfare. “That doesn’t mean I feel like contributing to enlarging your already massive ego.”

Pidge was looking at him over the top of her glasses. Uncovered from the greenish tint of the lenses, the honey brown of her eyes appeared strangely expressive. There was an emotion in them that he had seen a lot through the years, when they were on video calls at night, by themselves, but that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see in person yet.

Lance felt his own expression soften as he stared down at Pidge.

Before he could figure out what to say, Hunk, who had been preoccupied with a series of beeps from his communicator, had turned towards them and snapped his fingers. “We have so much to show you, now that you have the clearance!” His smile was even more contagious in person than through a screen. “I don’t know how much Veronica has told you–”

“Told me?” Lance interrupted with a laugh, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “As if my sister would spill transnational secrets.”

Hunk’s mouth twisted disbelievingly. Pidge, too, shook her head.

“I know how it is to have a family in the Garrison, Lance,” she admonished, slipping out of his hold. “Everything is confidential until something slips out in the middle of Sunday lunch.”

“Well…” Lance squinted at the LED lights on the ceiling. “If something did slip out, like the existence of a certain wormhole-jumping craft that is supposed to make teludavs obsolete, then you couldn’t really blame Ronnie.”

“Especially since the only one with a high enough rank to know about that is Shiro.” Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “A lifetime in the military and he’s still the most trusting person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not like he’s broadcasting it to the rest of the coalition,” Hunk pointed out good-naturedly. “It’s just Lance.”

Pidge didn’t look appeased. “I’ve seen Lance reveal all our identities because he wanted to impress an alien groupie.”

Lance grimaced at the memory. It had been a little after the war, when the Garrison was still arranging diplomatic meetings with the liberated planets. As a result of his words, he and the other paladins had been mobbed and Coran had to create a diversion to get them back in their ships.

“That was a long time ago,” Lance whined. “Besides, the so-called groupie was a child and you know I can’t resist children!”

Pidge fixed her glasses, her expression a mixture of aggravation and amusement. “If you ever have kids, you’re gonna spoil them rotten.”

Lance had to bite back his immediate response. His mind had come up with an image of what his and Pidge’s children might look like – brown haired and brown skinned and too smart for their own good – and the idea warmed him to the core. He had almost said that his kids would be fine, because of their mother’s genius.

His thoughts must have shown somehow because Lance caught Hunk looking at him with a smile that promised no-good.

Lance cleared his throat. “What were you two fighting about, anyway?”

“Hunk has been trying to access my daily annotations,” Pidge explained, moving to one of the nearby computer monitors.

Over her head, he and Hunk continued to share looks and mouthed words. He couldn’t really tell what his friend was trying to say, but Hunk pointed at Pidge, then at the computer, making exaggerated facial expressions that would have been comedic in any other circumstance.

At their apparent silence, Pidge’s fingers paused over the keyboard and she whipped around to look at them in suspicion.

“She means her diary,” Hunk interjected quickly, only to receive the brunt of her glare. “How am I supposed to know what’s going on over here if you won’t let me read it? I spend half my time out in space!”

“Can’t you just believe the things I tell you? Like, I don’t know,” this Pidge grumbled with a sour look on her face, “a normal person?”

Hunk snorted. “You want to talk to me about being normal?” He glanced at Lance, as if to ask if he had actually heard her correctly. “Pidge, we had to build you a dorm in the Mecatronics Advancement building, because you kept falling asleep in the lab.” Hunk turned back to Lance and pointed a thumb at Pidge. “She would be passed out with the new Rover just constantly knocking against her back.”

“So what?” She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin in defiance. “I like what I do. At least I’m not a busybody!”

Lance could feel a new fight brewing. Or maybe it was fairer to say that it was an old fight, one that every paladin had already had with Pidge.

“Katie.” His use of her given name made Pidge’s attention snap to Lance. “We’ve talked about this. Your therapist has talked about this.” He put a hand on her shoulder, then slid it down until their fingers intertwined. “I know you like feeling useful, but we’re not at war anymore. You can rest.”

“Exactly.” Hunk sighed, thankfully not making a big deal of Lance’s touches. He reached out to ruffle her hair. “We worry, girl.”

Pidge let go of Lance to bat Hunk’s hand away from her braid. The smile she gave them was tight-lipped but fond. “Then just say that, you idiot.”

“Why should I?” Hunk shrugged, sending her a sly look. “You only seem to believe it when it comes from Lance.”

He was saved from Pidge’s cold fury by his communicator going off. It sounded more like an alert than the normal message, filling the lab with high-pitched beeps that could have awoken even Pidge in her days of all-nighters working on the lions.

“Shoot!” Hunk frowned at the device. “I have a meeting on the other side of the complex!” He looked around with wide eyes.

Pidge picked up a folder that rested on her workbench and thrust it into Hunk’s chest.

“I hope you’re late,” she said in a deadpan, making both Lance and Hunk laugh.

“I’ll see you in the taxiway later, right?” Hunk asked, already half-out of the door.

Lance gave his friend a thumbs-up. “And we can go into town after the demonstration!”

When he turned to face Pidge, she was back at the computer, shaking her head at the screen with a smile still on her lips. He leaned against the table and simply stared at her as she worked, knowing full-well that part of her attention was still on him.

“What?” she caved after a few seconds. Lance batted his lashes at her. “Ugh, stop! If you want me to go into town, then I have to finish this calculation.”

“Eight years since we were cadets here and you’re still a stick-in-the-mud.” He watched her roll her eyes. “Please, you gotta come! I don’t know any of the cool spots anymore and Hunk has been off-planet!”

“As if that could stop Hunk from knowing the good restaurants,” Pidge muttered under her breath, frowning at something on the computer. She clicked one final key, before fixing her gaze on Lance. “Also, it’s actually been twelve years since we were cadets. Time might not have gone by for us, but things here certainly did change.”

“Quiznack, don’t even remind me of that!” Lance ran a hand across his face. “Rachel has finally shut up about how we’re the same age now.”

“Did she?” Pidge raised a brow at him, leaning her hip against the workbench in much the same way as Lance had. “Cause she still called me hermanita the last time I visited the farm.”

“Yeah, you ain’t getting rid of that nickname.” He chuckled. “It’s better than mami and pop-pop calling you Palomita, though.”

Machines whirred around them, a distant sort of sound that barely registered in Lance’s mind. His thoughts were stuck in the contentment displayed across Pidge’s features, like talking about their adventures on the farm filled her with as much warmth as it did him.

And maybe it did. The paladins and their families had grown closer during the years following the end of Voltron. They had all needed support in ways that only those who had also gone through the same grief could understand. His mother had talked to Colleen and Krolia multiple times, looking for advice on how to handle his PTSD, and Lance himself had reached out to Matt when he didn’t feel like speaking to his siblings or to the team.

It was odd to look back and remember how lonely he would feel back in Castle of Lions, when there were so many people now who he loved and who had gone to the ends of the universe for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Pidge tilted her head to the side, her eyes glinting with curiosity behind those glasses.

“About the team,” he answered, because it was partially true. “About how long we’ve known each other.”

Pidge nodded, but her gaze had shifted to the ground. Hesitance furrowed the line of her brow.

“Does being here–” She paused, then seemed to gather her courage. “Does being here remind you of Allura?”

The question caught him a little off guard. It was inevitable to think of Allura when looking back at their time as a team, but Lance hadn’t expected Pidge to focus on that. Keith’s words from a few months ago echoed in his mind, that Pidge couldn’t know he had finished mourning for Allura if Lance never told her.

“A little, I guess, but it’s not bad.” He made a humming noise, considering what to say. “It feels strange to realize we’ve been without her for longer than we ever knew her.”

She pushed away from the table, just a little, so that they were facing each other. “Time doesn’t have to limit how significant a person is to us.”

“I know, but no matter how important Allura was to me, I know now that she wasn’t the love of my life.” Lance let Pidge catch his gaze, willing her to recognize that he wasn’t lying. “Because my life goes on.”

“Which is why you’re here?” There was doubt in her tone, as well as something that Lance wished he could call hopefulness.

“Which is why I’m here,” he repeated with more certainty.

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #cyance #katie holt #pidge gunderson #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

[thedevildomdaily]

A Tie That Binds

Chapter 2: Absolutely Not!

NOTES:| Warnings: Swearing.| Reminder: Lilly is the human exchange student in my head canon scenario.I recommend reading my pinned intro that explains more and the bios of my MCs | There are spoilers referenced throughout this story, but I am currently at Lesson 30| Message me if you have any questions!| This is my first fanfic| Thank you my trusted Beta-Reader @wolfiesworld <3 you’re a life-saver!| CH 1

“WHAT!?”, said a collection of voices, echoing through the long corridors of RAD! It was followed by a loud banter and outrage amongst everyone in attendance at this council meeting.

“Whaddya mean ‘holy vows’?!”, Mammon was the first to ask.

“V-V-VOWS!?”, Leviathan sputtered with a face lit up with crimson, “As in...M-M-MARRIAGE!? No! Game over, I quit! There’s only Ruri-chan…”,

Asmodeus chimed in, “It wouldn’t be fair to all of my fans if I were to settle down with just one person!”, He ran a hand through his hair and crossed his arms, Satan merely shook his head at his brother’s “justifications” though he too thought it was preposterous. Satan, being the intellect he was, remained silent while his brothers went on, there was only so much their eldest brother could take before going off and he was NOT going to be on the receiving end of it.

Belphegor was shaking with anger, visibly gritting his teeth! Beelzebub, always by his twin’s side, shared anger in this proposal, Lilly surmised that they put a level of blame into what happened to their beloved sister on the nephilim. Still it wasn’t their direct fault, she’d have to talk with Belphie later about it. He tended to open up to her quite a bit, Beelzebub too.

“Enough!”, Lucifer finally shouted! Putting his brothers back in their places! Whether he agreed with this idea his former brother and Lord Diavolo concocted or not, his expression wouldn’t say, he also wouldn’t allow his younger siblings to overstep their boundaries with the prince. “Lord Diavolo, please elaborate...” His gaze went across the room towards the nephilim, gaging their reactions.

Lilly hadn’t paid attention to the nephilims’ reactions on the account of a very loud Mammon and Leviathan, however she observed a spike in Zaksalamel’s anger. He'd even stepped in front of his sister, as if to shield her. Azriel once again gripped his brother’s shoulder, but he remained calm, pushing past her brother. Lena only looked at Diavolo, insisting he continued, She didn’t seem phased at all by this odd solution.

“I would not be able to send just anyone to the human realm to aid you;” Diavolo continued while looking at the female nephilim, “I trust Lucifer and his brothers being strong enough and capable of handling the situation. Their presence, however, could not only pose a threat to the Celestial Realm, but to the humans as well. Your father may be in charge of the Helsing Corps., but he answers to a council that refuses any communications with me.”, He furrowed his brows in frustration.

It was Simeon that continued explaining, “I believe you being half human, can make a pact with demons, is that correct?”, The triplets looked at each other, then nodded. “Well having a pact with the brothers would insure your human council that they can’t pose a threat. Your world, as you say, is already littered with unwelcome guests, having the Avatars of Sin suddenly appear would only scare them more!”, A valid point, Lilly thought, being ONE of those scared humans.

“And the ‘Holy Vow’?”, Azriel urged him to continue.

“Having a pact with the 7 Avatars is not to be taken lightly, especially in the hands of a nephili-”,

“Tell me about it!”, Mammon interrupted! Not believing anyone was considering this. “MAMMON!!!!”, Lucifer glared with black aura seeping from his body in his brother’s direction.

Simeon gave a sheepish laugh and continued, “The vow would specify certain stipulations, normally the traditional human vows would say something like ‘for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part’, followed by a holy authority-”, The room was filled with angry whispered and childish disgust in the citing of vows, “Having the vows rearranged to include ‘under an oath to keep peace between the realms, sworn not to invoke war towards any of the three realms….’, Would become a contract since everyone involved are spiritually powerful beings, and to top it off you, Azrelena, have angelic blood. You would be bound to keep such an oath.”.

“Does it really have to be a marriage? Why not just a contract?”, Lena asked, she hadn’t really reacted before like the demon brothers did, “I mean for one, you’re directing this at me, is it just because i’m a woman?”, Lilly couldn’t help but laugh, she really just called them out on it. Both Diavolo and Simeon gave sheepish expressions and avoided the female nephilim’s gaze.

Suddenly, Barbatos chimed in, “Actually it was I that made the suggestion.”, Lena raised her brows and lowered her defensive take, the triplets were familiar with the demon stewart of the prince, especially Azri, who was the Chief Communications Operations of their HQ. Trusting her brother’s sense of character, she listened to his explanation. “With the status of your current situation, Azriel is needed now more than ever at relaying messages both globally and to each realm involved. Zaksalamel needs to continue the investigation with his expert tracking team, and you, Azrelena, would be best suited for this part, after all, you are the strongest of your kind if rumors are to be believed. It takes a great deal to hold such powerful pacts as we’ve witnessed, and the sealing vows even more. Only you could withstand it, as for the marriage...that was an outdated phrasing, Forgive me. It is a union though and your fates would be bound eternally....” After a quiet moment of reflection Lena finally asked, “This would keep each realm satisfied?”, of course this was less than ideal, putting that level of trust in these...demons...and angels? This motley crew looked less reliable the more she observed them. Still, there were no better suggestions, and the longer they took debating this, the more victims would be harmed. “There have to be stipulations set! I’m not thrilled by this whole ‘bound eternally’ business either…”, she glanced over at the brothers, each had their own level of shock, disdain, and disapproval on their face.

“Well, we would need time to send this proposal, forgive my choice of words, to the other realms...but, I approve of this. Officially, you have The Devildom’s compliance.” Diavolo stated firmly. “Whatever stipulations you have can be worked over in the meantime.”.

“Absolutely not!” Belphegor exclaimed, most were taken aback by this! Beel braced his twin’s shoulder, they had been down this rabbit hole before... Belphie’s outrage had nearly ended in a tragedy in the past, he wouldn’t let it happen again! Besides, they had the best friend in Lilly they could ever ask for! “Beel, let go! They, they caused it! The-”,

“Belphegor, enough!” Lucifer transformed this time, “Lord Diavolo’s words are final! If he says we are to exchange vows and make a pact with this nephilim, we are going to do it! END OF DISCUSSION!”. His fearsome gaze left a shocked Belphegor and Beel, and turned to each of the remaining siblings... They were no longer going to protest, for now.

The display before them left each nephilim speechless... So this was The Mourning Stars power? “I will do it!”, Lena exclaimed! It was completely on impulse, derived from the amazing display of power. Though she and her brothers were on par, the notion of having such powerful allies gave her something she never expected to gain from a demon of all things: Hope!

Her brothers both went to protest, but Lena cut them off, “No! This is my choice!”, She looked to Diavolo with full determination, then to each demon and angel in the room, “I will do this! Your aid means everything! So many lives can be spared; my friends and family on the front lines! If each realm agrees to these terms, I will happily accept this fate.”. The female nephilim then boldly turned and faced Belphegor, “We do not know each other! And frankly, we don’t have to trust or like each other! If your concept of family is anything similar to mine, then surely you can understand the willingness to do anything to protect it!”, Belphegor backed down more but still glared at the nephilim, he would never trust them! Even though he had been wrong about Lilly, there could be no reason to put anything other than suspicion towards something that was half angel and half human!

Lena sighed at the expression she received and returned her attention to the rest of the demons, “Besides, it’s not like these vows are serious outside of the pacts portion, i’m not your little housewife! I don’t expect anything from any of you other than help with the investigation and, the three realms permitting, help disposing of any major threats in the human realm.”.

Collective sighes filled the room, the nephilim had a point, it WAS one of those ‘political marriages’, it shouldn’t really have an effect on their individual lives. “Ugh, fine!”, Mammon finally said, Satan merely shrugged, this was a fine mess he’d gotten into... Struck by her words, Belphegor remained silent and Beelzebub silently looked after his twin, he was thankful this didn’t end in conflict like the last time Belphie disagreed with Diavolo and Lucifer.

“My fans...maybe they won’t find out…?”, Asmo sighed, He received an eye roll from Lucifer, he would have words with each of his younger brothers when they returned home! Such unsightly displays in front of Lord Diavolo and his guests! “There is one more thing I would like to say.”, Diavolo interrupted, the chatter going on. Lilly couldn’t help but give a cheeky grin, of course the demon prince would add something else to stir the pot! He always did and she loved that about him, “I would like Miss Azrelena to stay in The Devildom in the meantime, as you stated before, the portals which allowed the mass amounts of demons to enter couldn’t be traced in the human realm. Perhaps leaving one of you behind to assist with the investigation here would be wise.”, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Diavolo, he knew very well that the prince was cooking up another scheme he wanted absolutely no part of!

“It will take awhile for all parties involved to deliberate this contract-”, Diavolo continued, “So we might as well use this as a learning opportunity! It’s been a millenia in the making!”, and there it was, Diavolo wanted to rope a nephilim into the student exchange program at RAD. “Since we have very little to no knowledge of nephilims, and there seems to be a lot of misinformation, would you kindly attend the RAD student exchange program? As you can see we have both angels and humans attending and I want to know how RAD compares to Belmont Academy. Barbatos tells me that the three of you were top of the class and you were even a teacher in some areas Miss Azrelena!”.

Zak’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head with a pleading look in his eyes, why would she agree to something like this...? There HAD to be another way! Azri had to cover his brother's mouth and drag him into the hall to keep him from making a further scene, they both knew their sister’s answer, after all, she had been looking for excuses to leave Belmont for years. “I’d love to!-”, she exclaimed! “-and please! Call me Lena!”, she bowed to Diavolo, then to the rest of the occupants.

“Haha, excellent!”, Diavolo couldn’t contain his excitement! “I would like you to stay in The House of Lamentation during your stay, consider it a means of getting to know your colleagues! After all, you’ll…-”, he hesitated for a moment as he felt Lucifer’s disapproving glare behind him, “-...be working this case with them on the side.”.

“You can room with me!”, Lilly suddenly popped in between Lena and Diavolo. “Hi, I’m Lilly! Resident human of the House of Lamentation! Nice to meet you!”, Lena smiled and shook her hand, well at least it won’t be a TOTAL sausage fest where she’d be staying! “Hey...I’ve been wanting to ask you and your brothers since you walked in….have I seen you somewhere before? You look…”, the human looked her up and down, unable to hide her blushing, “very familiar...”,

“Uhm...about that.”, Lena gave a sheepish smile as the human began leading her out into the hallway to join the other nephilim. Barbatos quickly followed suit as he would assist the brothers in returning to the human world.

#OBEY ME #obeyme #obeyme! #om! #om! shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #obeyme fanfic #obeyme headcanon #obey me oc #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 2 | mat barzal

back for part two! thanks for the love on part one! i would like to highly encourage you all to watch how i met your mother, which is referenced in this chapter, and is one of the all time greatest tv series (with one of the all time worst endings-does it count as spoilers if its this old??)

anyway, enjoy part two💜

part one

-----

Mat rolls back into town a week after you’ve confirmed the results. So just when you think you’ve got your panic under control, you and Molly catch him walking out of his apartment as you’re walking out of the elevator back toward yours, and the panic flares up immediately.

“Hey!” Mat grins, walking faster to meet the two of you at the elevator, where Molly is holding the door for him. “Missed you guys!”

“You too!” Molly says, when it becomes clear that you’re incapable of speaking. “How was home?”

“Good.” Mat smiles. He looks lighter, happier, as relaxed as he always does upon his return from home. You almost laugh when you realize it won’t last long. “But it’s great to be back.”

“Always is, right?” Molly smiles.

Mat nods. “Yeah, and not just because you two won’t be killing my plants.”

“Oh shit!” Molly slaps her mouth over her hand and you freeze, eyes wide. In all the panic, you two had totally forgotten to even attempt to water, let alone replace the plants in his apartment.

“Oh shit is right!” Mat laughs, used to this particular brand of chaos from you and Molly. “Usually you guys at least pretend like you’ve done work and buy new ones! What happened?” You look down, avoiding his gaze completely, and Molly coughs out a string of words you’re certain aren’t English and definitely aren’t a real sentence. “Oh shit, did something actually happen?”

“Do you want to have dinner with us tonight?” Molly blurts.

“Molly!” You cry.

“Okay, never mind?” She hesitates.

You sigh. No, her first thought was right. It’s best to just rip the bandaid off. “No, tonight’s fine.”

Mat’s giving the two of you a weird look-well, actually, it’s directed mostly at you. Like he’s finally noticed you refuse to meet his eyes. “Is everything okay, you guys?”

“Yeah,” Molly assures him. “We’re good!”

“YN?” He asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” You squeak, eager to go take some deep breaths away from his presence. You’ve got some thinking to do about this evening. “All good.”

Mat eyes you skeptically, but shrugs one last time. “I’ll see you guys tonight then.”

-----

Around fifteen minutes before Mat is due to arrive at your apartment for dinner, Molly pulls on a sweatshirt and starts to make her goodbyes. “Well, hit me up if you need me; Brian says his offer to beat Mat up still stands.”

“You’re leaving?” You ask incredulously, from the kitchen, where you’re filling a bowl of chips to snack on before pizza arrives.

She gives you a look. “I mean, do you really want me here?”

“Yes!” You huff immediately.

Molly presses harder. She knows you too well. “Really?”

You sigh. “No.” It’s definitely something you want to do on your own. Just you and Mat.

“Right.” She laughs. “I’ll come as soon as you call.” She promises, reaching out to hug you supportively. “If you want me back tonight, I’ll be here!”

“Thank you.” You squeeze her one last time and then let her go.

The next fifteen minutes rival only the time you spent waiting for the line to appear on that first pregnancy test you took just over two weeks ago on how high your anxiety is. UberEats buzzes your phone, notifying you that your pizza has arrived, so you slip down to pick up dinner, noting the slightly open door of your apartment when you come back up and pausing for a minute before entering yourself.

Mat’s arrived. This is it. No going back once you step inside.

“YN!” A voice that is decidedly not your neighbor’s shouts the second you walk in the door. “Aw man, and you’ve got pizza? A woman after my own heart!”

You freeze in the doorway as Mat slugs the arm of his teammate. Anthony Beauvillier just laughs. “Sorry.” Mat apologizes. “Just for his everything. I figured you guys wouldn’t mind if he came though.”

“Heh.” You say, unable to articulate a real thought. Under literally any other circumstances you wouldn’t have minded Tito being here. But now? This second?

“Where’s Moll at anyway?” Mat asks, looking around.

You realize that you’re still frozen in the doorway and start to make your way toward the two of them slowly. “Uhh she’s uhh at Brian’s.”

Mat frowns, like he’s trying to place his name. “The guy all over her Insta?” You nod. “Rude. Invites us over for dinner and then ditches us?” He pulls out his phone and starts texting. “I’m going to give her so much shit.”

“Heh.” You say again, looking for any subject to move on to. “Should we eat?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starving.” Mat says, throwing his phone down after finishing his text.

You try to smile at that, try to keep things as normal as you can as the three of you make small talk while you get plates and pizza. You’ll just tell him later. Tito will go home and you and Mat will talk at the end of the night. Or tomorrow. You’ll go over first thing in the morning and tell him if you need to.

You’re so distracted by this thought you don’t even notice Tito. “Beer?” Mat nods and Tito chucks him one from the fridge. “YN, catch?”

“No thanks.” You say nervously.

Tito shrugs but when he comes over, he’s got two bottles in his hand and he slides one over to you. “Which one?”

“Uhh.” You hesitate. This was not how you wanted this to go down. “Neither.”

Tito laughs. “I’ve never seen you turn down a beer! What, are you pregnant?” He jokes. 

There’s absolutely nothing you can say to that so you bury your face in your hands, unable to face Mat, who’s now choking on a very poorly timed sip of beer.

“Holy shit!” Tito mutters repeatedly. “Holy shit, holy shit.”

And it’s that that finally gives you the strength to look up at Mat, tears in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Get out.” Mat gestures to his best friend, voice still sounding absolutely wrecked from minutes of choking.

Tito’s already moving before he even says it. He’s got his beer in one hand and grabbing one of the pizza boxes in his other and practically running from your apartment. From the silence between you and Mat you can hear the door to Mat’s place slam shut and then Mat, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you looked up at him, opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I’m so sorry.” You repeat and then the damn breaks, the sobs coming uncontrollably.

Mat’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close the second he gets over to you. He presses soft kisses into your hair and holds you closer and closer but you’re fairly certain that he’s crying the same as you are the entire time.

-----

It’s hours before you can lift your head again and you only know that because it’s dark outside your window. Mat has, apparently, moved the two of you to your living room couch at some point, because his arms are still wrapped around you and you’re both lying comfortably on the couch, instead of collapsed into his arms from the chair. He doesn’t seem to notice your arrival back to Earth, one hand just gently moving through your hair, and so you take a shaky breath and start. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” He sounds incredulous and his hand stops moving for a second, but just before you have time to mourn the loss, picks right back up. “I mean-” He lets out a deep breath. “How could I be mad?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure you’ve hit every emotion on the spectrum since you found out, including anger, and you tell him so. “I’ve been a bit of a wreck for the last couple weeks.”

“Well I think you’re allowed to be.” Mat replies. “But weeks? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“About two.” You tell him softly. “I really didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

He’s silent at that. “You could’ve...I don’t know. Told me to come home, or something. I would have been on the first flight back.” Yeah, he probably would have; you’re almost certain of it. But the time to process the news yourself was needed, whether you knew it at the time or not. “I’m sorry you were going through this by yourself.”

“You’re here now.” You tell him. “That's all that matters.” He drops another kiss into your hair. “And now we can talk about what to do going forward.”

He freezes. “What uh. What do you want to do?”

You pick your words carefully. “I want you to know that I’m not holding you to anything. Really! I just wanted you to know-

“I’m going to be here.” Mat cuts you off.

“Okay, but you don’t-”

“YN.” Mat says, maneuvering himself so he can look at you. “I’m serious. I’m here for this, all the way. You’re in, I’m in. Whatever you want to do. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay.” You repeat.

“Good.” He smiles at you, the first time since the news dropped, and you hesitantly return it.

“Brian did threaten to beat you up if you weren’t in, so I guess it’s good you’re sticking around.” You poke him.

“Skinny little Brian, all over Molly’s Insta?” You nod. “You don’t think I could take him?”

You shrug. “Won’t have to find out, will we?”

Mat laughs, lying his head back against the pillows and pulling you close again. “I’ll find something to throw down with him, don’t you worry.”

-----

Your first official check up with your OB/GYN has you feeling so much better about the baby thing in general. Anxieties eased with your questions answered, you text Mat a picture of the ultrasound on your way home, captioning the picture we have a cherry.

“Where are you?” He demands, when he calls you less than a minute later.

“Walking into the building.”

“You went without me?” He sounds hurt, legitimately so, not like he’s faking it for the dramatism, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have let him know what was happening. But there were just so many weird things changing with you; you just wanted to be able to fire off questions to your doctor about everything.

“I’m sorry.” You suppose you could have just kicked him out of the Q&A portion of the day. “Really. I just-you can come next time, I promise.”

“I want to!” Mat says quickly.

“Are you home?” You ask. “I can come over right now.”

He is, so instead of going over to your place, you bump over into his, where he is, unshockingly, playing some video game with Tito. Mat shuts it off the minute you enter though. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You laugh, sitting down in the chair across from them, delighting in the look on Tito’s face as he looks between the two of you.

“I guess...I’m going...to go.” He says slowly, making no moves to stand.

You fight back a laugh. “Tito, d’you wanna stick around?”

“Yes!” He grins at you immediately. “How’s our little girl doing in there?”

“Our?” Mat parrots. “What do you mean our? What role did you play in this?”

“Godfather, obviously.”

“Oh, you think?” Mat grins.

“Actually, right now, you are one of five people who does know about this.” You tell Tito. “And I’d like to keep it that way until we get a chance to tell some other people we need to.”

His eyes light up. “Can we call ourselves Team Baby?”

“You can call yourselves whatever the fuck you want as long as you keep it between us three, Molly, and Brian until 12 weeks and you don’t get those stupid fucking t-shirts made, alright Ted Mosby?” He’s already texting; you’re sure he and Molly are already in plans to make shirts.

You look over at Mat, laughing at  his friend, but Mat’s just eyeing you carefully. “You’re okay?” He asks. “Everything’s good?”

You nod. “Right on track.”

Mat nods, looking more pale than you’ve ever seen him, and he breathes out a deep breath. “Right. So we’re having a cherry then.”

“Next week, it’ll be a strawberry.” You inform him.

That does absolutely nothing to decrease the worry on his face.

#mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fan fic #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #my hockey fics #surprises series

[queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm]

Knock Knock. Who’s There? (Jasonette) (continuation of The Most Vibriant Color)

Orange. Orange was the color of pill bottles, the eyes of vampiric bats in the night, and the tint of the orange plastics that polluted the earth. Orange was the color of a shirt Jason Todd was trying to pack. The voices finally broke him into going to Paris and now he needed to pack. Jason had no idea how long he would be there, but he also had no plans of returning to Gotham anytime soon. Dick walked into the room, “Dickie boy, what’s up?”

The older adoptee stared at his brother, “Are you sure you want to leave? You just got back.”

Jason didn’t just want to go, he needed to leave. If the pit madness didn’t drive him insane, the constant way Bruce and Dick treated him like he was a bomb just waiting to explode would. They claimed they missed him, mourned him, wept oh so many tears, but in the end they had just replaced him. Jason would never be Dick; he knew it; Bruce knew it; hell, Dick himself said he would never be good enough.

The steel blue orbs bore into Jason’s making him shift uncomfortably, “Then it will feel like I never came back,” he laughed but Dick found no humor in his words, “Listen Dick, I’m not you. I’m going to be fine.”

Jason wasn’t fine, not right now, not in Gotham. He was suffocating. Loneliness was a silent killer, one worse then the Joker. Jason knew it would kill him all over again if he didn’t do anything to stop it. Dick didn’t understand, he was the golden child. Dick was the first, the better Robin, the most charming, respectful, and kind one of the Bat’s kids. He lived a good life in the circus with his family and then immediately be adopted by one of, if not, the richest men in the world. Dick didn’t grow up on the streets, he wasn’t treated like an outsider in his adopted family, he wasn’t toyed with, frayed, bruised, ripped, or mutilated like Jason. A stranger in his own body is what Jason was.

All of these feeling were internalized of course. What’s the point of talking about the emptiness that plagued him, when everyone was already moved on? Jason had no purpose anymore. Why would Bruce miss one of his thousand kids? Jason was just another passion project... right? Did he serve any real purpose to begin with? All of these thoughts stuck with Jason. No matter how much he wished they would just go away, they would stay ever fervently whirling like a tornado inside Jason’s psyche. The only way to escape them was to leave. They’d have to, if they didn’t Jason didn’t know what he’d do. This is his last hope to try and just be a kid again. A luxury Jason was never given, this is the time where Jason reclaims the innocence that was stolen from him.

He swore it. He meant it. He was going to live it.

After Dick had finally left the room, Jason finished packing. This was the final piece to the puzzle that was Jason’s future. Gotham would lose Jason Todd again, this time by choice. What good did his return do anyway. Gotham could live without Red Hood, she could live without another troubled kid, she could live with one of her kids living without her. Gotham couldn’t live with one of her babies dying again in front of her. Paris craved chaos and by Kawamii was Jason going to raise hell while he’s there. Gotham knew this, so she passed one of her favorite boys to Paris in hopes of his life being preserved. Paris welcomed him with open arms too. What about a baker’s daughter?



Orange. A color of insincerity, empty calories, a color without substance. Orange was a color that would haunt Marinette. Everywhere she turned an Ex-friend and a liar would be there trying to gain her attention. The liar spun beautiful tales of her exploits, but she also created terrors to ruin Marinette. The pathetic excuse of a reporter pestered her into helping her tabloid of a blog, “Come on! Get me an interview with Ladybug!” She would shout, “I have to know about what happened with Rena and Carapace!”

“For the last time, Alya, I’m not in anyway, shape, or form obligated to help you. I’ve made myself very clear in stating that we aren’t friends. You talk bad about me, try to ruin my commission website, and on top of all of that you expe- no, demand something of me?!?” Marinette was furious. The insolence Alya repeatedly shown to her angered her to new bounds, “You think you are in a position to be speaking to me at this moment? Alya, I’m tired of this routine you have taken accustomed to falling into. Just because you forgot your own actions, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten nor forgiven you for. If you come by the bakery again, I’ll put a restraining order on you in school and outside. You have become a stalker, I don’t want anything todo with you.” 

Marinette had to take deep breaths and close her eyes to calm herself down. 1... 2... 3... repeat. 1... 2... 3... repeat until calm. She could not risk akumitization, it was not an option. Ladybug couldn’t be compromised. Emotions are a luxury that Marinette cannot be awarded. Alya on the other hand, she had no control and abused that.

Once Marinette had opened her eyes, she saw a purple little butterfly touch and be absorbed by Alya’s frames. The exchange between the supervillain and Alya was brief, he didn’t have to say much before the glow of power overtook the glasses sporting journalist. Marinette thought to herself, ‘I can never catch a break, can I?’

Marinette ran, commanding the people to evacuate, to the nearest locker to hide and change in. Tikki has taken no time to change and showcase her new look. Ladybug had outgrown the red and black, polka dotted, skin tight, spandex. She was much too mature for that now. Ladybug was layered in body armor, away with the pigtails that feigned innocence. Her hair was now loosely pulled back by two braids with the rest of her hair down, now her suit was a majority of black. Marinette’s mask’s colors had been inverted. Ladybug was a guardian of the order, a leader, a symbol, she needed to update her look.

She existed the locker, yo-yo in hand. Ladybug swung to higher ground. She had no information on the powers of this akuma, it was time to play everyone’s favorite: the waiting game. This also allowed for Char Noir to get here in time. In the beginning Chat was a little pushy and childish, but after 5 years of fighting he became jaded and more serious in his role. He got himself a girlfriend that didn’t work out but she was there, became a better friend, and more importantly a friend. Chat was tired, the only reason he was still fighting is because of Ladybug. His lady needed someone to balance her out, so until they can find his replacement they’re stuck.

After 5 minutes of waiting and observing, Chat had arrived, “What’s the status? What happened Bugsboo?”

“The akuma’s in her glasses. Alya, was told off by Marinette apparently and couldn’t handle it. And before you say something about Marinette instigating, Alya was harassing her about an interview with me. I will not give her an interview either. She doesn’t want to fact check, fine. I don’t want to give her an interview.”

Chat sighed. This whole situation was getting out of hand. He lost Marinette. Alya is on a warpath. Lila keeps harassing him. Maybe it was time to build his ark while the flood rages. He’s exhausted of playing middleman, of losing important people, he’s tired of fighting. After this he would beg Marinette to accept his apology, but if she didn’t want to he’d understand. This was going on for long enough.

The fight itself only took around 30 minutes. Once the cure was done, Alya awoke to see Ladybug staring her down. Alya didn’t seem to get that Ladybug was infact angry at her, “Ladybug! Can I get an interview?”

“I believe Marinette had told you I wouldn’t be giving you anymore interviews,” she said with venom, she hadn’t meant to but it was seeping out. “I saw the messages you and the rest of you class sent her. All of the hate, I know you tried to ruin her website. And for the last time, I do not know a Lia Rogatonie or whatever her name is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave. Bug Out!”

Alya was left stunned. Tears stained the cheeks of the “reporter” and she realized that she had been live-streaming the exchange. All of Alya’s followers had seen her be chewed out by the savior of Paris and Chat had only nodded. It wasn’t long after Ladybug left that Chat went in the opposite direction.

Marinette landed in an ally by the airport. She had to run home now that school was cancelled. Not actively paying attention to her surroundings, she had run into a large man. He was about 6’0 (182.88 cm) and all muscle. His jet black hair had a white streak going through it, he was devilishly handsome, and his eyes. Oh god, his eyes. They were clear blue, however, there was green infringing on them. It was a sickly green too. Marinette almost drooled at the sight of the Grecian god standing before her.

He had stumbled a bit but she had fell completely on her bottom. Marinette’s face was the same shade of her old suit design. Eventually the man had helped her up with an extended hand, “Are you okay?” He asked in rapid English.

If it wasn’t for all of the lessons Jagged and Penny had given her, she wouldn’t have understood a lick of anything he said, “Umm, I’m fine. T-Thank you,” she responded in accented English.

“You wouldn’t have the directions for Le Grand Paris would you,” he switched the language on her. “That’s where I’m staying, I got lost.”

“Oh, yes of course! I could help you get there, Monsieur...” she waited for him to fill the blanks.

“Jason,” He supplied, “Jason Todd.”

She outstretched her hand again, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said with her blindingly bright smile.

The sun was setting. A gorgeous orange glow was cast over the two as they walked towards Le Grand Paris. Each thought the other as etherial being and fell into comfortable conversation. This would be the start of a beautiful friendship and possibly romance.

A/N: This was one of my favorite things to write. Thank you to everyone who likes, comments, reblogs, and thank you for sending in the asks. They make my day like you wouldn’t believe. I never expected this many people would actually like the word vomit that comes from my mind. Also, special thanks to @/abrx2002 for the idea to make this series dealing with the entire rainbow! I was just going to do red, but now I’m doing the whole rainbow. If the series isnt done by purple, I’ll do more colors. Also if I didn’t tag you, it’s because I can only tag 50 people at a time. However, I’ll tag you in the comments!

Tag list: @abrx2002 @amayakans @mystery-5-5 @normal-piece-of-shit @st0rmy-w1th1n @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @g-arya @smolplantmum @rayray384 @rosa97 @drarryismylife101 @kris-pines04 @black-streak @storyteller-d @weird-pale-blonde-person @maribat-shenanigans @vivilakitty @mycupisbroken @zalladane @gingerdaile @18-fandoms-unite-08 @seraphichana @zebrabaker @northernbluetongue @jardimazul @ranger-gothamite @grimmhallow31 @finallyaniguana @persephonebutkore @rarity36 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @hell-or-high-waters @moonlightstar64 @raisuke06 @evil-cricket @starwindmaden @kuroko26 @primeemeraldheiress @ladysblackcat @senpaiweird @loveswifi @2sunchild2 @timetomakeanewwish @theyellowfeverexperience @iloontjeboontje @vgirl-10123 @vixen-uchiha @winter-gardenflower @yokizu @risingmoonyue @semaalcocer-blog

#miraculous ladybug #dc comics #dc x mlb #jasonette #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #rainbow #orange #tim drake #damian wayne #batman #red hood #ladybug #nightwing #red robin #robin #chat noir #class salt #anti alya #alya salt #anti lila #lila salt #mlb salt #tw loneliness #tw implied depression #maribat au #maribat

[grapefruitsketches]

And when I break it’s in a million pieces (2/5)

Prev | Next

Rated T

Twin Jades post-canon case fic, POV Lan Xichen, angst, hurt/comfort

Chapter 2 - For fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 9 - Nostalgia

Also available on AO3 

“Is there something wrong?” Xichen asked, after the fourth time his brother glanced at him, frowned and then turned back to face the winding path ahead.

“I’m worried about you.” Wangji was just as blunt as ever, even if over time, beginning when Wangji had first met the man who would become his husband and particularly since that man’s return, Wangji seemed more comfortable when his feelings were the subject of said bluntness. Gone were the days of yes or no questions about why Wangji’s eyes seemed sad to Xichen, or of guessing that there might be something more to his younger brother’s anger and frustration than just the inherent rule-breaking.

Xichen admired that in his brother, but sometimes being direct was not the kindest option. He smiled, “I’m fine, really, Wangji. I did keep up my training, after all. No need to worry.”

“Hmm,” was the only response he got, doubt as evident in his tone as though he had rolled his eyes.

But Wangji’s worries felt deeper to Xichen. They were not close enough to the woods yet for Xichen’s actions to be in doubt. There must be something else. Xichen externally maintained a peaceful expression but internally wracked his brain, trying to figure out what might be bothering his brother, before landing on something he should have thought of before.

“How is my brother-in-law doing?” Xichen asked quietly. At the very least, Xichen appreciated the effect of this question, of referring to Wei Wuxian as such, on his brother. If there was anything that was going to make his brother’s mouth twitch into a soft smile, it was the reminder of his and his husband’s vows to one another, alongside Xichen’s acknowledgment of Wei Wuxian as a part of their family.

The little smile, the shy glance down even after all this time, the slight reddening at his ears. “Wei Ying is… good,” Wangji said, “He wrote that his visit to Yunmeng went as well as could be hoped.”

“And what does ‘as well as could be hoped’ mean?” Xichen asked, smiling.

Wangji shook his head, “That was… not clear. But he and sect leader Jiang have been getting along better recently,” he smiled gently, even softening the faint note of bitterness out of his voice at Jiang Wanyin’s name, “Sizhui told me that sect leader Jin has made some progress in convincing sect leader Jiang to invite us to the Lotus Pier New Year’s celebration this year.”

Xichen’s eyes widened, “That is big.”

Wangji nodded, smile still fixed to his face but growing distant, “Mn, walls like that should not exist between brothers.”

Xichen winced internally. He wasn’t sure if that was meant as a slight, but it certainly felt like one.

Wangji went on, “He should be on his way back to Gusu now, actually…”

“Oh?” Lan Xichen’s stomach sank. He had assumed that Wei Wuxian would be away for weeks to come – plenty of time for him and Wangji to deal with whatever was haunting this village and be back. He hadn’t realized that by insisting on going – by prompting Wangji to follow – that he was prolonging the spouses’ separation, delaying their return to their well-earned happiness by each other’s side.

But Wangji, still exercising this strange new delicacy around his older brother, only nodded, twitched the corner of his mouth up into a slight smile, and continued walking.

They went on in peaceful silence a while, the farmlands outside of the village passing them by. The serene and gentle surroundings clashed oddly with the images the stories of the disappearances elicited.

Lan Wangji interrupted the silence, “What do you think the victims have in common, Xiongzhang?”

“Well,” Xichen considered, happy to settle into this familiar kind of night hunt conversation, “We know a few things. Each one of the victims seemed to have suffered some sort of shock not long before they disappeared.”

Wangji nodded, “The fire. The marriage breakdown. The loss of a child.”

“Yes, which leaves us with two options: either these events were created by whatever is targeting these people, as a prelude to their disappearance, or…”

“A recent shock is part of the victim profile,” Wangji finished.

Xichen sighed, musing, “I’d say it would be more common to be the former, but given that the couple moved here following their child’s passing, that would mean that whatever it is would have to have a much larger range than usual.”

“What do you think of the ones left behind?” Wangji asked, without a change in his tone, but making Xichen’s heart stutter in sympathy nonetheless. He had not stopped to think of what leaving his brother to interview all of those mourning, anxious parties might him of. He blinked his eyes closed for a breath, taking a moment to silently chastise himself for his inattention.

“I think it’s very normal for people to blame themselves, when someone they care for has suffered,” he said, carefully avoiding being too specific with his words, “But I don’t know if there’s anything that could have been done to prevent this from happening.”

Wangji shook his head, “No, I was wondering–“

Xichen had stopped suddenly, throwing an arm in front of Wangji to stop him from taking another step, and Wangji stiffened, readied himself at the interruption. “It starts here,” Xichen said with certainty, hand twitching and ready to draw Shuoyue at a moment’s notice.

Wangji nodded, also positioning himself to better reach Bichen, but asked, “You think it might reach this far out from the trees?”

Did his brother not notice it? Xichen blinked, looking around him. He realized, with some confusion, that he could not see, could not detect any obvious signs of… it. He just knew. He knew that the roots, that the spirit’s power, reached out to here.

“Y-yes.” Xichen said, certain about what he felt, and unsure why his brother could not.

Wangji, to his credit, showed no signs of skepticism, though Xichen figured that from his perspective, even if Xichen was mistaken, there was no harm in being over prepared.

“Let’s proceed with caution,” Xichen advised.

His brother nodded, drawing Bichen fully and positioning himself in front of his older brother on the path towards the woods, wordlessly instructing his brother to stay close by his side. Xichen sighed, but focused ahead of himself rather than arguing with his brother’s protective stance.

He could sense the forest’s power, but Wangji could not. Xichen tried to slot the new information into what they already knew. It targeted those with difficult events in their past. It seemed indifferent to when those things had happened, and it just so happened that most of the people they interviewed seemed to be closest to that person. Seemed to have also been implicated in that same event.

If Xichen hadn’t been so concerned with keeping up with his brother, he would have stopped dead in his tracks. Suffering. Grieving. Hardship. Someone close – someone like a brother – letting him down, not believing him at the last critical, moment. Just as they stepped into the forest proper, Xichen realized. Wangji was the perfect target.

And as suddenly as the thought came to Xichen’s mind, before he could move to do anything to protect Wangji, darkness swelled. The light vanished far too quickly for how close they still were to the clear and sunny fields behind them. Xichen tried to reach out for Wangji’s arm, but met only empty air, and a vague, far too distant cry of “Xiongzhang!” Xichen shouted back, but received no further answer. He only heard a faint giggling ringing out from somewhere in the dense wood that he could no longer make out the details of.

Lan Wangji had disappeared. And Lan Xichen had failed to keep him from being taken.

#untamed fall fest #lan xichen #lan wangji #twin jades of gusu #twin jades of lan #twin jades #the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #my writing

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Empty Spaces

Part 2

Please heed warnings of part 1. Added warning of suicidal tendencies. If Anything about suicide makes you triggered, don't continue reading this particular story. Please be mindful of yourself. This WILL get worse.

Tag list of known masochists (I'm playing, you guys are amazing):

@northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @wuvpancakes @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @lysslovsanime

~---~

Coming to in Marinette's body was jarring to say the least. Moments earlier, pain was all he could register and now he was leaning back on a bench in the back of a classroom. 

Leaning forward and hiding his face in his arms, he focused in on the tug in the back of his mind, trying to bring it forward. To force the switch back, only to be met with harsh resistance.

"Dammit Mari, don't do this. Let me back!" He whispered under his breath, panic starting to lurch to the forefront. He started to shake all over, the longer the connection lasted and the longer she resisted.

"Marinette, please stop, please? You can't keep doing this," he murmured, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing with all he had at the bond.

"God, how pathetic can she get? Faking a breakdown for attention," a voice from the front spoke, pitched just right to be intentionally heard by him.

"Why don't you mind your own damn business," a haughty voice exclaimed from his left, before a body drew closer, arm wrapping around his shoulder. He held back a flinch, trying to tune into her normal reliance on others for comfort, instead leaning into the body, vaguely recognizing it as Chloe. 

The resistance dropped and finally the tug calmed down. He still couldn't switch back, but she wasn't fighting him anymore either. He let out a sigh as the shaking calmed down. Bruce must've found her. She was safe, but likely exhausted and unable to switch back. As much as he hated her taking the pain for him, all he could do now was wait for the bond to pull again and leave a letter detailing exactly what he thought of her little stunt here.

This time Jason did flinch. He felt the first few blows Joker landed, he could only imagine how much pain she must be in now.

"You okay there, marzipan?"

That was a new one. Glancing up into worried baby blues, he gave one soft nod and slumped into her side, paying attention to the lesson. Mari would be upset if he let her fall behind in her studies while she was gone.

…

It had been four days since then and Jason couldn't help feeling like something was horribly wrong. It wasn't the first time they switched for an extended period of time, by any means, but his gut told him this time was different.

Sure she had claimed his body for well over four days before to wait out an injury or get more extensive training with Bruce before and he had held her body hostage for over a week once when she was in the hospital with pneumonia, but normally a tug or two would tell him that one of them was holding out on the swap.

This time, nothing came. His mind was achingly devoid of her and as the days passed, he feared he might end up here longer than planned. It would make sense. Multiple broken bones, blunt force trauma, and the sheer force of their swap could easily have overwhelmed his body and dropped it into a state of unconsciousness. 

He took to her computer, trying any combination of words related to the accident to see if anything had been reported only to come up empty handed.

That couldn't be right, if she were in the hospital, if his body was properly reported as a Joker victim, the report would be made public, even if the identity was kept under wraps for being an unknown minor. Anything to indicate someone was caught up in the accident. Surely Bruce wasn't relying solely on Alfred to patch them back up?

It wasn't until a week after the incident that he received his answer, buried in a tiny little notice in the back of a Tuesday local newspaper. Like an afterthought. Amongst the obituaries. A tiny note that the late Jason Peter Todd had died.

His soulmate died in his body and didn't even make it into the citywide Sunday paper. Just a local midweeker with barely more than two sentences.

Disbelief struck first.

This couldn't be real, right? Soulmates weren't able to just. Die in the other's place. That wasn't a thing. It was his body, if anything, he would have immediately been evicted the second his body died and moved on while she returned to hers. So how the fuck was he still here?

Next came anger.

How dare Marinette die in his place. How dare she end her life for his mistakes! And by the Joker! The fucking Joker deserved to die for torturing and killing his sweet little soulmate. He deserved a life worse than death. To be strung up and peeled apart inch by inch until he begged for death. And Batman... How dare he not make it in time to save her. It'd be okay if it were him, but not her! She didn't deserve this. Mari had her own life, her own desires and dreams, her own villain to hunt down, and that was torn away from her because Batman let them down. But even worse, Bruce barely cared enough to be open about his death. To mourn the loss of her like he did, even if the man didn't know it was an innocent in that body and not him. And even if it had been, it hurt knowing that he alone wasn't worth more than a barely there acknowledgment that he was once alive in an unseen back page.

Last came devastating grief.

She was gone. Marinette, the girl who never even really met him, cared so much for him, she sacrificed her own life for his. Forced him to stay in her body and took his as her own to the grave so he could live as her. With her loving parents and colorful room and warm heart. She gave him everything and wanted nothing in return. Slept on the streets for him at times, took brutal fights on as Robin so he could have a reprieve, skipped meals so he could taste something he'd never had before that her parents made that night. Learned English from an early age so they could talk and he wouldn't be alone in the world. And now that one of them had died, she ensured that he would be left in the best environment she could provide him, even if it had become rougher around the edges from when they were younger. And now she was gone. Dead. Never to return. And as he turned towards the mirror and looked into her beautiful, glowing blue eyes, he saw the tears trail down her face before he collapsed into himself, cursing anything and everything in the universe for allowing such a cruel fate.

…

For the next month, he moved through life like a zombie. As much as he hated her classmates for treating her the way they had, he couldn't help but feel grateful that no one wanted anything to do with him. They still muttered under their breath and glared and purposefully manipulated situations against him, but no one tried to ask what was wrong.

Everyone but Chloe and Juleka avoided him like the plague, which felt accurate in a sense. He didn't have to fake a smile or pretend to be okay like he had when the class still loved her. He could sulk and cry and grieve and it went unquestioned. The others hated him and the two girls, while worried, knew that sometimes she needed the reprieve of just letting her negativity go unchecked for a little while to make up for bottling so much of it all the time, so they let it go as well. The teacher barely glanced his direction. If it weren't so beneficial to him at the moment, Jason would be pissed at the obvious neglect his soulmate had endured at the hands of this lot. As it stood, he just cried a little harder at night in his grief, Tikki curled to his neck with tears of her own. 

The two quickly bonded over their mutual loss and the inability to talk about it to anyone else. Despite the stress of it, Jason refused to let anyone else know that Marinette had died. Her parents didn't need to suffer her death while looking at her living, breathing body, knowing she wasn't in it. That it was his fault she had died in the first place. And he couldn't even imagine having to tell them how she died.

So he resolved himself to live in her stead. To live as she would for the sake of her loved ones and in her honor. He had enough practice in the past to pull it off. It helped that they had both learned to suppress their emotions to the point of nonexistent in the light of facing Hawkmoth.

That was another thing entirely, though. While he resolved to fake a smile and play the happy designer in her civilian life, Ladybug took a turn from that day forward. He warned the cat off him, not playing into the teasing and banter, becoming stoic and professional. And when the kid got too brash, too pushy, too unreliable, he stripped the ring from him and moved on. Built a team she would've been proud to lead.

Over the next three months, he slowly adjusted her mannerisms to be more natural for him. Not enough to be noticeable or seen as anything more than growing older and slightly more jaded, but enough to make it a touch easier and less like he was living a lie.

…

Six months had passed and everything was different. 

The rest of the class didn't bother him. Didn't make accusations. Throw insults. Acknowledge his existence in any way. And maybe that was meant to be punishment. To be treated as a ghost haunting an unknowing audience. But it was pure bliss. He couldn't thank them enough for their continued silence. 

At least this way he could pretend her last days of life were happy and surrounded by people who cared for her. That they were grieving her just as he was.

There were still mornings he forgot. Times he'd walk by a mirror and smile, seeing her looking back and thinking it just another of their sporadic swaps where he'd wake as her and find a note waiting for him. 

Then reality would crash around him as the little kwami would come out and look at him with those sad eyes, nuzzling his neck (her neck, this was her body god dammit). On those days it hit him differently. Sometimes he'd shut it all down, going through the motions for the rest of the day. Other times he'd break down and cuddle the small being as close as possible and share in her despair, not bothering to leave the house. Usually anger would coarse sharp and deadly through his heart, urging him to seek vengeance. On those days, any remarks made his way were brutally rebutaled, until the remarks stopped entirely. Ladybug fought with just a little more violent intent; he couldn't avenge her until Hawkmoth was defeated. Those gorgeous blue eyes set into her face turned into a deadly storm of promised danger. 

It all kept swirling and cycling through him over and over until one day, the desperation and grief and hurt all hit a little too hard and he laid on the floor, staring up at the dark ceiling, wishing he could be by her side. That he could join her and not have to feel like this anymore. That it could all just go away and he could be happy for once in his miserable life.

That night he wished for nothing more than to die. If it hadn't been for the absolute heartwrenching sight of her little, pale hand wrapped around a too big knife, he has no doubt he would have gone through with it. 

Afterwards he could only thank his cowardice for preventing him from destroying her body like that. She wanted him to live and who was he to deny her? 

That night, he curled up on the cold, hardwood floor and begged her forgiveness, promising to do better. To be better. He knew she couldn't hear him, would never respond, but he begged all the same.

#jasonette #ml x dc #maribat #part 2 #WFTW

[mythologyfolklore]

Don’t hurt Demeter’s trees. I’m serious. Don’t.

(Aka, why messing with the goddess of nurture, agriculture and fertility is a stupid idea)

.

Demeter loved her trees, she loved the Dryades who lived there and she loved their merry dancing in her sacred groves.

And she would be damned, if she let anyone take that cheer away from her!

But lately she had no reason to be cheerful.

No, it wasn't about Persephone; it was summer, thus she was here with her mother.

Oh no.

Demeter and the other gods were pissed at Erysikhthon, the king of a wealthy kingdom in Thessaly.

He was insolent and scorned the gods. None of the Olympians had ever received sacrifices from him, despite the prosperity they had bestowed onto the kingdom.

So they were holding council on what to do with him.

Ares had just suggested to flat out kill him in the most brutal manner to make an example, when Persephone entered the hall and informed her father, that a group of visitors asked for an audience.

The Olympians exchanged curious glances and murmured among another.

The King of the Gods nodded and asked his daughter to show the visitors in.

Persephone went back outside, only to return to the assembly with a group of visibly distraught and black-clad Dryades and, to everybody's surprise, with Nemesis, the dark and inescapable goddess of righteous indignation and retribution.

Zeus frowned: “I see, you must have been greatly wronged, if punishing Nemesis is with you. What happened?”

The Dryades started to chatter and rave all at once and all the Olympians could make out was “Erysikhthon”, “sacrilege” and “justice”.

Nemesis held up her hands. “Settle down, girls. Let me handle this.”

They fell into mournful silence and the daughter of Nyx stepped forth, her black sword in hand.

Her floating black hair and blazing eyes gave away her subdued wrath and her raven wings were partially spread.

“Hail to you, King of the Gods, Champion of Justice!”, she addressed Zeus. “And you happy Olympians. Hear me! And avenge a wrong that has been committed not only against the Nymphai behind me, but also against All-Nourishing Demeter.”

Demeter's face darkened. “Explain!”

Nemesis turned to her with a grim mien. “These are the Dryades¹ from your sacred grove at Dotion. And they are mourning their sister, the Hamadryas of the ancient and giant oak you loved so dearly. Erysikhthon went into your grove with several armed men, felled her tree and heeded not her warnings, nor the pleas of her sisters.”

One of the mourning Dryades darted forward and prostrated herself before Demeter's throne.

“Hear us, generous Demeter, Noble Goddess, Erynis²!”, she clamoured tearfully. “He murdered our beloved sister, just so he could build a roof for his new banquet hall! Oh Corn-Mother, we beseech you, avenge our fallen sister! Give us justice! Give us revenge! We cannot stay at that grove, as long as that godless villain walks around unpunished!”

Demeter rose from her throne and nodded.

“And punished he shall be”, she guaranteed the distraught Nymphai. “Now return from whence you came. And rest secure in the knowledge, that his will be a most horrible fate.”

The Dryades bowed to everyone and saw themselves out, pacified by the promise of retribution.

Nemesis lingered. “Do you have a plan, Potnia³?”, she asked the corn goddess. “Do you need my assistance?”

Demeter declined: “No, thank you, Nemesis. I already have the perfect punishment for him.”

The goddess of retribution nodded and left – without bowing to the Olympians.

For a few minutes the council sat in silence.

Then Zeus turned to his sister: “So, what is that perfect punishment you meant?”

The golden-haired goddess elaborated: “The fact, that Erysikhthon felled my tree to build himself a dining hall gives me an idea. So he wants to hold feasts in this hall that has my favourite Nymphe's blood all over it? He wants to hold banquets? Well, then hold them he shall! I will command Eris' daughter Limos to inflict him with cruel hunger! He shall feast and feast and never be sated! He shall starve in front of full tables!”

Zeus nodded. “Very well. A cruel punishment for a cruel man. Good luck, sister.”

Demeter nodded at him and left the assembly to set her plan into motion.

She summoned the strongest mountain Nymphai she knew and out of them chose a red-haired Oreias.

“There is a barren, frosty landscape at the furthest outskirts of Scythia. A grim landscape, where nothing grows”, she told the Oreias. “That desert is home to Limos, the Starvation-Bringer. What I want you to do is take my chariot and my Drakones and travel to that bleak place. Find Limos and give her an order from me: bid her to haunt Erysikhthon, king of Thessaly and not let my power of abundance stop her. I want her to fill him with her emptiness and unquenchable hunger. Good luck.”

The Nymphe thanked her and mounted the chariot and took to the skies with it.

And so the brave Oreias followed the directions given to her by Demeter.

It took her a while to get there, but when she did, it wasn't long until she found Limos.

The personification of hunger was practically crawling across the rocky wasteland, plucking the scarce weeds.

Even from afar, the sight of her almost made the poor Nymphe throw up with how horrific it was.

Limos was all skin and bones, her stomach was practically nonexistent and her teeth were rotting, her hair was thin and coarse and her skin a deathly shade of grey. Her ankles, elbows and feet were swollen and clubby, instead of fingers she had claws and her eyes were void of colour, life or even hope. Her ribs stood out of her chest like small tombstones.

She truly was hunger and starvation incarnate.

Not daring to come close to the Kakodaimona⁴, the Nymphe called out to her: “Limos!”

The wretched creature looked up and smiled hideously.

“I am as old as mankind”, Limos rasped. “But never before has anyone other than my mother and siblings visited me in my barren home. Welcome, child! I would offer you hospitality, but I have nothing to offer at all. What can I do for you?”

The Oreias called back: “I'm here at the bidding of Demeter!”

“The Corn-Mother? What could the Giver of Plenty possibly want from me?”

Demeter, as the goddess of nourishment and prosperity, and Limos, goddess of hunger and famine, were immortal adversaries and polar opposites, hence they could never meet in person.

The Oreias gave the Kakodaimona Demeter's order and after receiving Limos' answer (a slow nod), hurried to leave, for the Starvation-Bringer's presence was beginning to cause a gnawing feeling in her stomach.

Demeter was satisfied, when her messenger returned her chariot and informed her of Limos' consent.

That very night, the daughter of Eris entered the bedroom of Erysikhthon and bent over his sleeping form. Limos opened his mouth, placed her hands onto his forehead and stomach and filled him with her emptiness and unquenchable hunger, just as Demeter had ordered. Then she vanished, leaving the mortal to feel the gnawing sensation even in his sleep.

In the next months, Erysikhthon proceeded to devour his entire fortune, spending all the resources he had on food.

When he had no more money left, he went on to sell his daughter into slavery.

In her peril she prayed to Poseidon, who had once been her lover and received from him the gift of shapeshifting. In this manner she escaped every attempt at being sold and finally decided to run away altogether, away from her godless father.

Eventually his hunger drove him to digging his teeth into his own flesh and he died a most cruel death.

Demeter was the Giver of Plenty, the nurturer of the world.

Angering her always lead to suffering and misery beyond comprehension, for she was as unyielding and merciless as she was generous.

.

---

.

1) Dryades are tree nymphs. Hamadryades are the nymphs of oak trees specifically. 2) Erynis ("The Fury/The Wrathful One"), one of Demeter's epithets. 3) Potnia ("Mistress/Lady/Queen"), one of Demeter's (and Persephone's) epithets. 4) The Kakodaimones ("Wicked Spirits") are malevolent spirits begotten by Eris, the goddess of strife and discord.

#Greek Mythology #demeter #dryades #Persephone #nemesis #zeus #limos #erysikhthon

[hamiltalian-creates]

Wine Mom Dadceit, Pt 2

Summary: Janus takes his disaster children to the park. Two of them nearly attempt murder and the third meets a new crush friend. 

Pairings: Virgil x Remy, past Janus x Patton

Words: 2,080

Warnings: Misgendering / Attempted deadnaming (They don’t know his actual deadname)

As they pulled up to the house, Janus began setting out the rules for the quick stop.

“Both of you wear what you want to wear to the park and then wait for me in the living room. I’m going to be cleaning up the drinks that I was planning on enjoying earlier and mourning my hot bath.”

“You know, you can take hot baths during the week,” Virgil pointed out. “I mean, you do work from home a lot, aren’t you always saying that nobody can stop you from doing what you want when you work at home?”

Janus sighed and walked with the two boys into the house. “Virgil. The point of the hot bath is to relax away the stresses of the week. How can I do that if I’m working?”

Virgil turned to face him, staring his father dead in the eyes. “Dad, I love you, but if anybody else asks me why I’m so dramatic, I’m going to start writing these kinds of things down to quote back to them.”

“When you’re older, you will understand the importance of self care.” Sure, Janus made sure they knew the value of doing regular self care, but it wasn’t the same as doing self care regimens that were as extra as his own. “You’re going to look back at this conversation one day and realize that I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Virgil shrugged and walked off, not very sure that he believed that as he went to his room, Remus darting to do the same.

Janus sighed and went to the bathroom, grabbing his water bottle on the way and pouring the drinks into it. They didn’t quite fill the water bottle all the way, so Janus filled the rest of it with orange juice and finished cleaning up the day that he’d previously planned, finding both Remus and Virgil waiting for him once he was done.

“Do I really have to go?” Virgil asked. “I will go back to dad’s and be on my best behavior.”

“Yes, you have to go. It’ll be good for you to go outside for once.” He grabbed his parasol and Remus’s leash, just in case. “Come on, Remus isn’t complaining.”

“Remus doesn’t mind human contact!”

“I want to climb the swing sets!” Remus said, running over to cling onto Janus’s legs. “And the kids are all stinky!”

Janus peeled him off. “No, you’re in trouble. If you so much as think about putting spiders in someone’s hair, it’s the leash for you.”

Remus pouted and followed him as they all walked outside and drove down to the park.

The second that they got there, Remus hopped out of the car and ran to the nearest playground, Janus sighing as he watched. “Well... At least the car was parked this time.”

“I can literally just stay in here the whole time,” Virgil said. “Please.”

“Nope. We’re just going to walk around, you can wear your hoodie, god forbid I make you expose your whole arms to everyone.”

Virgil huffed and got out of the car with Janus, pulling up his hood as he join his dad under the parasol.

“Virgil, I respect that you want nobody to recognize you ever, but aren’t you a little hot in that?..”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d let me stay home.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “I want you to learn a lesson about what happens when you tape children to walls, but I don’t want you to overheat.” Even Janus had switched out his usual long sleeved button up for a t-shirt. It wasn’t particularly hot, but Virgil wasn’t particularly used to being anywhere without air conditioning.

“Fine... I’m going to leave my hoodie in the car, only because my shirt has long sleeves.” Virgil went and sat in the car as he took off his hoodie, glad that this particular purple shirt wasn’t too worn out.

“Isn’t that a little better?” Janus asked as Virgil joined him back under the parasol.

“No.”

Janus tutted. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Virgil shrugged and messed with his fidget cube as they began walking around. “Yeah, I get it from you.”

Janus smiled a bit as they walked. He didn’t particularly like forcing Virgil out of his comfort zone like that, but the poor kid had had a hard time making friends his own age, so it was pretty rare that he went anywhere that wasn’t school. It was tough to get him out during the week, so on the weekends where he took them back early, he made sure to take advantage of it.

About fifteen minutes into their time at the park, Janus was approached by one of the PTA moms from Virgil’s school.

“Oh my goodness, hi! It’s funny running into you two here. You’re the last people I’d expect to see out here, knowing Virgie,” she joked.

Janus faked a smile. He always at least attempted to be civil with any moms he didn’t already have beef with. “Virgil doesn’t do that well in social settings, I know I’ve said it time and time again. I just thought this would be quiet enough.”

“Well, where’s that other kid of yours? He’s always so.. Upbeat at the PTA meetings.”

Janus looked over at the playground where he last saw Remus and saw him running around like a normal kid. “He’s over there, just playing around.”

She looked over and nodded. “It’s good to make him get out all of that energy from time to time, isn’t it?”

“If it’s too much to handle, I guess that would be the best course of action, wouldn’t it?”  

She laughed, though it was pretty clear that she caught onto his passive aggression. “That reminds me, we haven’t seen dear Patty in a while. All of us other PTA moms have to look out for one another, after all.”

That was it. That was the last straw. “Virgil, why don’t you go sit with your brother? I think the two of us have a bit of catching up to do.” He pulled the beanie off of his head and gave it to Virgil, knowing that his son would be too nervous to draw attention with the parasol.

Virgil did not hesitate to take the beanie and leave. As much as he wanted to see his dad fuck someone up, he did not want to be in the direct path of any spilled blood. So, he went over to the playground Remus was at, playing with his fidget cube to distract himself.

Unfortunately, having his face down meant that he couldn’t see a basketball shooting straight for his face until someone caught it, inches from his nose.

“Woah, that was trippy. I mean, I, like, never can catch anything like that.”

Virgil glanced up, his face as pale as a ghost as he realized what had just happened. He almost just got hit in the face by a basketball and this unfortunately cute boy his age just saved him.

“Woah, holy eyeshadow.”

Okay, Virgil had seen enough. He was ready to die.

“I mean, that is an intense look and I’m kind of digging it,” he said as he threw the ball back towards the court. “Now that my jock phase is over, can I get a name? I’m Remy.”

As much as Virgil wanted to quietly walk away, this guy did save his face. “Thank you... I guess since you helped me, I’m Virgil..”

“Virgil, that’s a cute name. What’s a little vampire prince like you doing out here?”

Virgil laughed awkwardly. “I’m just here with my family, I guess...”

“You guess?” Remy asked, pulling off his sunglasses. “That’s a weird thing not to be sure about.”

Virgil shrugged and glanced over at the playground where Remus was at, trying to find him. “It wasn't my choice.. My brother likes it here better than-” Virgil cut himself off as he saw a kid knock Remus off of the playground, feeling himself fill up with rage. “Hey!” He immediately ran over and helped his brother off of the ground, clenching his jaw as he saw some scrapes on Remus’s face.

“It didn’t even hurt!” Remus insisted, though the way he was tearing up said otherwise.

Virgil looked up at the kid who’d knocked him down and glared. “You fucking brat,” he spat out venomously before turning his attention back to Remus. “What happened?” he asked much more softly.

“I told him I had three dads and he pushed me like a coward,” Remus explained through his tears.

“Fucking hell...” Virgil grumbled under his breath. “Come on, let’s go get dad.”  

“No, I’m fine!” Remus kept insisting, wiping his eyes. “Just let me get him back, I’m fine.”

“No, Remus... If I let you keep running around, dad is going to get mad at us both.”

“Hey, is he okay?” Remy asked as he walked up behind Virgil.

“I just have battle scars! I can fight that other guy!” Remus insisted. “I’m fine!”

Remy laughed and knelt down beside the two of them, pulling out a box of band-aids. “I’m, like, a serious clutz, so I carry these around all the time. Do you mind?” he asked Virgil.

“I.. Um... I mean...” Virgil was back to his normal, disaster gay self now that his initial anger wore off.

“I want a band-aid!” Remus said.

Remy smiled and gave Virgil a look, making sure it was okay with him.

Virgil just nodded.

“Well, I don’t see why you can’t have one,” Remy said as he pulled out a band-aid and put it on Remus’s face.

Virgil almost fainted as he noticed that it was a rainbow band-aid.

“Hey, it’s like the flag in Virgil’s roo-”

“Weren’t you going to go torment a child?”

Remus grinned widely as he got permission to do as he please and ran off, chasing down the kid.

“Pfft.. Kids, right?..” Virgil asked, trying to brush it off.

“Oh, I already knew you were gay,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “I saw you walking under a parasol.”

“That was my dad’s idea,” Virgil quickly insisted. “I mean.. Yeah, I’m gay...”

Remy smiled. “Knew it. Anyways, a little information about me: I’m gay, I have band-aids, I’m new in town.”

Virgil couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. “John Mulaney..”

“It never fails,” Remy said, shrugging.

“What never fails?” Remus asked as he popped up behind them.

Virgil jumped and turned to face him, ignoring the handful of hair hanging out of his pocket. “How long have you been standing there?”

Remus shrugged. “We should go home before that kid’s mom sees that I took his hair.”

Virgil glanced between him and Remy and Remus seemed to catch on quickly.

“Ooh! He’s a homosexual and Virgil’s the homo!”

“Remus!”

Remy quickly stepped in, though this time, it was his turn to start blushing. “So, my brother probably knows that I’ve escaped my grounding by now, do you have a phone number that I can get for my trouble?”

“Uh- Yeah! I mean...” Virgil searched his pockets. “Yeah, but I left my phone in the car...” He checked his back pockets and found his eyeliner pencil. “Would this work for you?..”

“Yeah!” Remy gladly rolled up his jacket sleeve. “Mark me up.”

Virgil nodded and moved to grab Remy’s arm, hesitating as he realized it meant direct physical contact, which he wasn’t too sure that he was ready for.

“Come on, I don’t bite. I, uh.. I kind of feel like that’s your brother’s job.”

Remus smiled proudly.

“Right, yeah, I know that,” Virgil said awkwardly. As quickly as he could without making it seem like he was trying to get away from Remy, he grabbed his arm and wrote his phone number down.

“Great! I’ll text you later if my bro doesn’t chew my head off. I just seriously needed to get outside after all that unpacking.” He got up and grabbed his box of band-aids again, giving a few more to Remus. “You do you, little buddy.”

“Thank you!” Remus took them and immediately began putting them on random spots on his arms and legs.

Remy chuckled and looked back at Virgil one more time. “I’ll talk to you later..”

Virgil nodded and watched as he walked off, thankful that Remus wasn’t making the obvious joke.

Instead, his brother sat down beside him and let him be gay in peace.

Unfortunately, his father didn’t get the memo.

#sanders sides #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #ts virgil #ts anxiety #ts remus #ts janus #ts duke #ts deceit #deceit sanders #sleep sanders #remy sanders #sleepxiety

[dayables]

4 and Shin? That's a dark one, but you write him well so I'd trust you with it. If you want something lighter instead, 17 for Shin!

Thank you for asking this! As you can see, I got into a very deep ramble about his life pre-death game and it doesn’t really tie in but I’ve kept it there :)  The last few parapraghs are the actual answers ahaha. Play some sad music in those paragrapths because I nearly cried with halloween music in the background.    4) What they would do if they had one month to live.   If Shin had one month left to live? We see it in the game kind of. Or at least kind of. Obviously imitating your ‘scary friend’ most likely abuser to try and turn everyone against your biggest threat isn’t going to work in real life. 

What the game and his 0.0% score does tell us (or heavily shove in our direction so we infer it) is that Shin is petrified of certain death to the point of desperation.

I do believe/headcanon that he is a very logical person. Almost everything he does is backed up by logic in the death game except for his last moments because screw logic that’s never worked before.  (The opposite of Keiji who’s likely very emotional until his potential last moments but this isn’t about him). So the question is, when did Shin’s last moments begin for him?  As the player, it’s when it’s that final choice between him and Kanna. To Shin this is likely a very different response. His last moments start the very second he gets told he’s doomed to die. Almost all of Shin’s choices in the game are emotional. Trusting Sara or at least earning her trust is the logical choice here. Making yourself her enemy because you are scared is the emotional one. He just lies to himself on the basis that she’s untrustworthy. Which, you can trick yourself into believing is logical.  It triggers a kind of flight or fight response in all our characters when they realise they can die here. All the cast barr Shin choose to fight and try and escape. Shin chooses the flight option here. Nothing he does actually prevents his death in the end. He just runs away from the inevitable doom. 

 I am once again inferring by comparing him to rest of the cast the death is a deep rooted trauma (and I definitely have thoughts on why). While the concept of death is one that scares everyone, no one seems to revel in it the way Shin does. He is living an incredibly safe life. A free lance programmer (by the sounds of it)  which earns an average of £60 an hour. He has a side job at a convenience store (that wasn’t a lie). He doesn’t leave his apartment much meaning he doesn’t have much of a social life. Shin is in a position in life where it’ll be near impossible to hurt him. Obviously he isn’t earning 60 quid an hour, but he has the potential too. Once he’s set up and successful, he’ll be able to die old. Alone, maybe not happy, but old.  For a guy likely in his early to mid twenties, things are bound to change but only as much as he lets them. From one person who will happily spend all their life in their own company to another, Shin isn’t going to change that. Not when he’s too scared to let someone past arms width and will avoid doing so. By the time he gets his game together and his skinny self to therapy it’ll likely be too late to make the same connections he has the chance too at his current age.  It’s not emotional because even the most introverted of introverts desires a life all alone. It’s a logical one for the fears and life he has. I don’t think that means he isn’t happy. It just thinks there’s a potential that he could have been happier. 

For Midori to have gotten as close as he was and no one to pull up the red flags his friends either didn’t care or didn’t exist. Most likely the latter seeing as he is very much in the process of mourning three years after his friends death. He likely wasn’t close enough to his parents to feel he could go to them over something as silly as Midori’s death. In the aftermath, Shin will be confused and muddled. In some ways, he’ll be elevated because he is free, he can move on. In other ways he’ll be lost, devastated and empty. Shin will also have a semblance of independence back. He doesn’t think he shows enough gratitude to his parents for materialistic items. Midori’s abuse was likely emotional or verbal. It probably consisted of vague threats, put downs, anger, power dynamics and a shrug at Shin’s emotions. I’m in no way a professional but after years of this Shin is going to think his emotions are something he should be able to handle himself, something he might not be able to do if he started to repress them in his teens. Shin likely has a warped sense of independence. Instead of being free from others control, he’ll likely think it means he can’t get help and must deal with everything alone. 

Being told that his death is round the corner strips two things that he values most away from him. He now has zero control over his life and worse, it ends with him dyeing. Shin would grasp for straws to have that independence back and therefore escape his own death. If he couldn’t get his independence back then he’ll try and avoid the end outcome. 

His last month would be a goose chase to avoid death. There’d be a list of everything he has to do. Fuck his jobs, fuck debt he needs to get to the hospital. Get checked up! Make sure he’s well. He’d do it everyday. Does he have enough medicine? Wet wipes, stock up on healthy food, hand sanitizer? Does he have enough hand sanitizer? Make sure his room is squeaky clean, don’t let anyone in, don’t answer the phone. Bolt the windows and live off ramen and debt for the rest of the month. Beanie on, beanie off, what is he going to die from? Has he prevented any possible cause? He’s forgotten to call his parents. That’s fine because he shouldn’t be dyeing anyway. It’s logical. It’s all logical. This is not his fear of death speaking through everything he is doing is logical! Now he just needs to figure out what’s causing this all? How did that person know? Then on the last day. He’d just give up. He’d finally pick up that phone and call his parents. He’d thank them and explain. He’d apologize for the debt because he’s swimming in it then he’d hang up. Shin would then proceed to cry in bed all day and trying to sleep so he just doesn’t wake up.  Then, while it’s a tragedy, I think he’d accept it. I don’t think he ever really thought he had a chance but his emotions drove him round and round in circles. Maybe he would regret his whole life and look back on it all. In a none death game scenario Shin seems like a brooder. He doesn’t have Kanna to live for so he has no reason to push forward. I think in the end he’d reach the conclusion his life was pretty pointless. Just as he’d slip from consciousness I imagine he’d think of Midori. Nearly everything we know about Shin seems to revolves about Midori . We, the player, never know him before the guy entered his life. That guy has a big impacts in his life and in a world where that was the only person to leave such a big mark? I think he’d go back to Midori. Especially with nothing to distract him from his mourning. 

It’s quite sad really. He lets his fear control him too much. Midori controls him too much and they’re both aware of that fact. But in the short, Shin would try and avoid his death. Hell he’ll likely die of exhaustion or caffeine overdose

His ending in the main game, I think that’s the best way Shin could have gone at that age. Dying for Kanna and letting go of his cynicism. 

Ending this off with 17 because I need that jokeness now, after all that. 

17) What would they sing at Karaoke? 

Everyone expects Shin to like bang out with some Beyonce or something. Maybe one of those silly little disney parodies. Everyone would make a joke about what he should sing because he’s indecisive as hell. 

Keiji Kai and all of those mature adults suggest Single Ladies,  Mr. Brightside,  Fireworks, Wannabe because classic Karoke songs you actually have to be able to sing when Shin 100% can’t? Count them in! 

Midori would suggest something embarrassing he knew wouldn’t even be funny to watch. Just painful. 

Gin, Sara, Reko and Alice are snickering behind their hands as they suggest Poor Unfourtunate Souls,  How Bad Can I Be (Alice ended up doing that one), The oogie boogie song and the price Ali reprise. 

When he refuses Sara refuses to let him get away with not being painted as some corny villian and dedicates her singing of Cruella De Vil to him.

Then Kanna taps on his shoulder and tells him what to sing and A: It’s Kanna’s suggestion B: It’s not and a bonus C if he’s drunk: He gets to whack a certain police officer and teacher with a hockey stick. 

And my inner theatre Kid shines through as he I say Shin sings Revolting Children and can’t get his letters write, drunk or sober. 

‘R e v o t l i n !’  instead of ‘ R E V O L T I N G’ 

‘S P L L!’ instead of ‘ S P E L’ 

‘TOO LATE FOR YOU?’ Instead of  ‘ 2-L-8-4-U ‘

I kid you not I have knows this song for years and I still struggle. You can not do that spelling rhythm first time. 

Also the lines. The lines!   We will become a screaming hoard.//Take out your hockey sticks and use it as a sword.// Never again will we be ignored.//We'll find out where the chalk is stored// And draw rude pictures on the board.

It’s such a childish song but it’s so hard. He struggles and struggles and one day he will get it because it’s so simple and why can’t he do it roght! Also, it suits him. Sue me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6PXm34OBP8

#well this is sad #Press F for Shin #I swear i started rambling #IDK man he gives me hermit vibes #Also like karoke #thanks for the ask! #I told myself this'd be a quick write up because the answer is so simple #This is why Im failing English. #I go in rambles like this #Stan Kanna and what she does for Shin #yttd #meta #shin tsukimi #Sou Hiyori

[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 3)

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Part 2

Hard Love (unofficial part 4)

The final part of the Cat fic is finally here! Hope I didn’t leave you in too much suspense. I don’t have much to say about this part other than it’s the longest of the three and there’s a nice mix of angst, smut and daddy Spence. Happy reading :)

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (some smut)

Word Count: 5,425

You hadn’t felt this queasy since your pregnancy.

There across the room stood Spencer, Cat’s face in his hands as he kissed her hungrily. His lips moved with hers with a lightning type of electricity between them.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Spencer?” you croaked.

The two broke away quickly, his hands still on her face and he looked utterly horrified.

Horrified and guilty.

Cat untangled herself from your boyfriend and  walked toward you, not so discreetly wiping the edge of her mouth.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Welcome to the party,” she purred.

“W-What’s going on?” 

Your voice trembled, your gaze flickering back and forth between Spencer and Cat. Between being confused at the current situation, you were freaking out, worried about the whereabouts of Spensa. You desperately hoped she was okay.

It had been nearly a year since you last saw him in the flesh. Now his hair was longer and his face was shadowed with facial hair, more present than it usually was.

“Just to catch you up, sweetheart,” Cat sat next to you on the couch, “Spencie has been alive and well this whole time.”

You had to force yourself not to flinch, both at her close presence and at her words.

“Y/N, I can explain,” Spencer said, his eyes pleading for you to understand.

You couldn’t comprehend anything at the moment.

“Now, now. Don’t steal my story from me,” Cat tsked before turning back to you.

“Anyway, Spencer here thought he was being smart by faking his death. He thought I wouldn’t find him. Obviously he underestimated me. Did I also mention that the entire BAU knew he faked his death and didn’t have the decency to tell you?”

Your brows furrowed, your chest feeling tight. You looked over at Spencer.

“Is that true?”

But Spencer wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Cat.

“Why are you doing this, Cat?”

“Well I thought it would be nice to have a little reunion. Besides while you and I were having some fun, I had my partner kidnap Y/N here so she could join us.”

“Where even are we?” you asked, peering around the dusty, rundown apartment.

There was a smashed TV in a corner, empty beer cans scattered by a wall and dust bunnies everywhere. It looked like it had been a long time since anyone had inhabited this space.

“Not important,” she brushed the question off, “But I thought us women should stick together, ya know?”

You looked at her blankly.

“Well I wanted to get three of us together to let you know that you could do better than Spencer over here.”

“And why do you say that?” you challenged her.

“Well, one,” she bit her lip, pretending to think, “He’s just like me. We deserve each other. Two, I hate to disillusion you that there’s nothing going on between Spencer and I. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Three, I’m just looking out for you. You could find someone so much better for you.”

She reached out to push a lock of your hair behind your shoulders and you flinched away from her, anger growing in you.

“So this entire time, you’ve been with her?” you asked Spencer.

“No! No,” he shook his head emphatically, “I was in Moscow until she found me.”

“We’ve been having a great time,” Cat crossed her legs, smirking, “As you’ve seen. Did we even leave bed yesterday, Spencie?”

You pressed your lips together, refusing to let her see that she was getting to you.

“You kidnapped her just to make a point that I could do better, with you?” 

“Not exactly. I also wanted to tell her just the kind of guy she’s dating. Oh, I’m sorry, thought she was dating.”

Her eyes were locked on Spencer’s, the challenge like flames of a fire in them.

“Did you know, that right before you woke up he told me that you’re not me?” Cat said, turning back to you, “That a part of him still thought about me all the time. I asked him to prove it.”

She made a face, a mock grimace, “Well you saw that part.”

Spencer now stood near you. She got up and squatted in front of you.

“I have to admit the sex is great,” she said nonchalantly, “But I’m sure you knew that. With the baby and all.”

You felt the blood freeze in your veins. How she knew about Spensa, you had no idea. Your fear for her spiked even more. If Cat even as much as touched a hair on your little girl’s head, you wouldn’t hesitate clawing her eyes out and ripping every hair from her head. The mama bear part of you was intense, just as intense as your love for your daughter.

“Baby?” Spencer looked confused, glancing between the two of you.

“I forgot, you didn’t know,” Cat laughed dryly, “My bad. Well she was pregnant with your baby. Such a shame that you miscarried and on the day daddy dearest decided to…”opt out” of being a father. Guess the excitement was just too much, huh?”

The look on Cat’s face was of a cruel pleasure. Spencer looked devastated as he tried to process what she’d just said.

“You...miscarried that day?” he whispered.

You weren’t about to make Cat aware of Spensa’s existence, so you made the lightning quick decision about what you had to do.

“Yeah. I did.”

•

“Emily!”

Penelope ran into the bullpen, concern written all over her face.

“What is it, Garcia?” Emily asked, instantly picking up on her frantic mood.

“I just got a call from your associates in Moscow that was keeping an eye on Reid. He’s gone missing.”

“You think Cat found him?”

“I don’t know, but it gets worse. JJ went to pick up Spensa to take her for a few hours like she’d promised Y/N, but she found Y/N gone and Spensa in her crib screaming.”

“She could have both of them.” Emily’s eyes widened, horrified.

“I’ll get the team!” Penelope was already running to locate all of them.

Cat Adams was going to be caught for good this time if they had to shoot her themselves.

•

“Just let her go Cat,” Spencer pleaded, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

A wicked grin crossed her face as she sat in an overstuffed chair across from the couch.

“You could always kiss me again. You know just to make sure she gets the picture.”

You had yet to face Spencer completely. Your turmoil was rolling inside you, too many emotions competing to be felt at once. You were angry that no one told you about Spencer and you’d spent a year mourning what you thought was his death. You were hurt, Cat’s words and Spencer’s actions still playing in your mind. You were scared, sad, confused, jealous, overwhelmed; it was like a bad combination of every emotion imaginable creating one big miserable cocktail.

“Y/N could just get up and leave,” Spencer argued.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were her.”

The click of her gun got your attention, she had it pointed in your direction. She knew you had enough sense not to test her; she would pull that trigger if necessary.

“You think you’re so clever,” you sneered.

“Oh I don’t just think it sweetheart, I know it.”

“You account for every possible outcome and plan accordingly don’t you?”

“Wow, you sound just like Spencer,” she glanced over at him, “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“You obviously didn’t plan well enough,” you goaded.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Spencer said.

He was on the couch, a good distance from you. He’d been there, head in his hands for a while before he’d started negotiating with her for your safety. 

You ignored him and played the one card you knew you had.

“Can you actually trust your partner, Cat?”

“That’s irrelevant,” she deadpanned.

“Well I’d think it over if I were you.”

You sat back with a smirk of satisfaction because of the knowledge you had. Earlier hadn’t been the first time you had gained consciousness.

•

You’d waken in the backseat of a moving car. Your hands and legs were bound with zip ties. In the driver’s seat was a dark haired girl with a pixie cut.

“Hey!” you hollered, “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?!”

You thrashed and hit the back of her seat when she ignored you and turned the volume of the radio up.

“Shut up!” your captor hollered over the music.

You decided to be on your best behavior.

For now.

Spensa had been left in her crib asleep when this mysterious woman had kidnapped you. Tears slid down your face as you thought of her. All you wanted is to be home with her in your arms. You prayed she was safe and that someone would find her soon.

You waited until the radio became nothing but static, the channel lost, before you made your next move.

“You’re working for Cat Adams aren’t you?”

“I don’t have to tell you nothin’.”

The woman lit a cigarette while she drove, taking a long inhale of it. You watched her exhale the smoke then asked your next question.

“What’s your end of the deal?”

“Don’t know what you’re yapping about.”

“Come on. You don’t give a shit about me. What’s she promising you?”

She ignored you and continued to drive. You pleaded with her, you were desperate.

“Please, I have a daughter. She’s only 5 months old. Did she tell you that?”

“Shut up.”

“How do you even know Cat?”

You fell to the floor of the backseat as the car swerved suddenly and the tires squealed. You felt the car come to a stop.

The driver’s side door opened and closed. Then the back door was yanked open. You were grabbed by the back of your shirt and pulled upwards.

The pixie-cut woman jabbed her gun in your face.

“What’s to say I won’t shoot you right now?”

“Cause it’s not worth going to prison for killing a person you give zero fucks about,” you stated.

You might’ve been terrified, but your voice came out clear and even. She stared you down for a long moment until she spoke again.

“I don’t know her that well. She just came to me saying she needed a job done.”

“Did you get any payment?” you questioned.

“She promised ten grand.”

“Did you get the money?”

“She said I had to get the job done, then I’d see the money.”

“You know you’re probably never going to see that money. Either she’ll kill you or she’ll disappear without paying her dues.”

For the first time, you see her hesitate.

“What if she turns on you? She could lead the police, feds, the whole works right your way. She could blame it all on you. I’ve dealt with Cat before. She’s a dangerous woman.”

You knew you were probably grasping at straws by now, but you had no other choice. You had to do something.

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me?” The gun came closer to your face again.

“All I want to do is get back to my daughter. She already lost her father, I don’t want to make her an orphan.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do anyway?” she laughed cruelly, “It’s not exactly like I can walk in and say “hey I kidnapped this woman” you know.”

“Make an anonymous call. They won’t have to know your name. Just tell them where Cat is, where you’re taking me, something. You can call from a pay phone, they won’t be able to trace it back to you. No one will ever know you were involved in this.”

You can see her resolve wavering, the gun lowering just a bit. You tried not to get your hopes up.

“You can walk away from this,” you said evenly.

For a moment you think she’s actually going to let you go as leans forward to you, but she doesn’t. Instead, she swings her arm back, the gun coming in contact with your forehead.

You fall backwards in the seat, your head now pounding doubly as hard. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, bitch.”

The car door slamming shut was the last thing you heard before you blacked out again.

But you hadn’t missed the look of panic in her eyes.

The next time you’d woke up, you were in the jaws of the psychopath.

•

“Your partner decided not to play by your rules anymore, Cat.”

Your voice was calm, but your nerves were frazzled. You were sick of dealing with Catherine Adams.

“I doubt that,” she smiled, “I have her loyalty.”

“Just because you’re a bitch doesn’t mean you get what you want, Cat.”

“Y/N,” Spencer warned.

“No, no. I’d love to hear what she has to say,” Cat leaned forward, interested.

“You literally had me kidnapped just to tell me that I’m not good enough for Spencer, that he should be yours which is ridiculous cause I doubt you have any feelings, much less love.”

“Love?” she snorted, “Please. I’m not delusional, besides love bores me. Do you think he’s capable of love?”

Spencer looked at her. You looked at him. He looked even worse than he had five minutes ago, if that was even possible. There was just something about Cat that drained him.

“If he was capable of love, he would’ve never put you in danger. Only reason you’re here at all is because of him.”

“If you’re this pleasant now, I’d hate to see what you’re like when someone double crosses you. Like say, your partner.” You ground your teeth in attempt to keep your cool.

“This isn’t her first rodeo, sweetie,” Cat looked over at Spencer, “You’ve got a fiesty one here.”

The glint in her eyes was a tell that she was enjoying this challenge. If it was a fight she wanted, a fight she was gonna get.

You stood up and walked toward her. Her eyes never left you as you approached her.

“I know for a fact that she’s gonna give up every bit of information she has on you and your plan.”

“She wouldn’t be an idiot. It would incriminate herself.”

“Not if she had something to,” you paused, shrugging nonchalantly, “Enlighten her.”

You had no idea if her partner had really contacted authorities and you hoped against hope that she had, but you weren’t about to show your doubts. With Cat it was all or nothing and if this would get you and Spencer out alive, this is what you would do.

“Huh. I like her, Spencie.”

“Cat, the gig is up. By now the BAU would have been alerted about my disappearance, Y/N’s too.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Cat said, sitting back as if she had all the time in the world.

“Did you know that Spencer is the only man to actually peak my interest? I’ve spent my whole adult life studying men and their lies, yet he intrigues me.”

“Obsessed is more like it,” you huffed.

“We have a...connection, you might say. By the way are you this bitter and bitchy because you lost his baby or is that just a personality trait of yours?”

She was goading you, you knew it. Even though she didn’t know about Spensa, it still felt like she was insulting her entire existence. 

You’d noticed she’d completely taken her attention away from the gun, which was resting on the arm of the chair. 

All the anger, all the resentment you had felt the day you thought Spencer died was bubbling to the surface. All the hurt you’d felt, the loss you’d experienced, the frustration, the pain that she caused made you snap. You’d had more than enough. You lunged for the gun just as fast as she did.

“Y/N, no!” Spencer yelled, jumping to his feet behind you.

Both of your hands were on the gun as you wrestled for it. It went off, a stray bullet going into the ceiling but even the gunshot was drowned out by the sound of the door caving in.

“FBI!”

Your hands dropped from the gun and you fell backwards onto the floor with a grunt. In your line of vision you saw Rossi, Emily and JJ rushing in, their guns on Cat.

With her two hostages too far out of reach and three guns pointed against her in comparison to the lone gun she had, the odds were not in her favor. You breathed a sigh of relief when the cuffs snapped closed around her wrists.

“Hey Spencie,” she smirked in his direction, “I may be going to prison, but that’s not going to ruin my mood. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” he bit out.

“Because you two are over.”

His jaw clenched, mouth pursed. The look of misery was written all over his face.

With one last knowing grin before she was escorted out, Cat’s last words were thrown in Spencer’s direction.

“I win.”

•

The tears started to fall the moment you exited the dirty, musty apartment. It was like you couldn’t stop crying.

You were sitting in the back of one of the FBI’s SUVs, tears still streaming down your face as you stared into space. Spencer was sitting in the backseat with you, on the opposite side and you could feel his eyes on you.

You were less than a foot away from each other yet you couldn’t feel more distant. You were relieved that he was alive, of course, but so much had transpired in the last hour that you weren’t sure what to feel anymore.

“You know, crying can actually be good for you. It can cause the release of oxytocin and endorphins, chemicals that can make us feel better,” he said gently.

“Spencer,” you sighed, feeling worn.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but all you could feel were the torn shreds of your relationship at the moment, as if Cat’s words and actions had reduced it to nothing.

“Did you really sleep with her?” you whispered.

“No,” he answered firmly.

The kiss hung in the air between you two, though. Even knowing it was just Cat, stung.

“That kiss though.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “You can’t fake things like that.”

You looked out the window, rain beginning to fall from the grayed sky. It was fitting for your mood.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his tone was dejected, “Please don’t be mad.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not mad. It’s just...a lot to take in.”

He nodded, staying silent. There was nothing but the soft sound of rain hitting the window for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Did you really have a miscarriage?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“No. I carried her to term.”

You looked over at him, his face changing when your words finally sunk in.

“I have a daughter?”

A small smile crossed your lips.

“I named her Spensa. Spensa Rose Reid.”

“You named her after me?”

You nodded.

“Can I meet her?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Of course.”

A smile peeked at the corners of his mouth. You glanced down at his hand that was resting on the middle seat. You reached out, touching your fingertips to his.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

•

After long hours of briefing, medical check ups and paperwork for Spencer, you both were finally back at the apartment. You hadn’t really had the chance to talk much to each other after the ride back to the BAU, much less see each other.

You were extremely grateful when JJ and Will had offered to take Spensa for the night and the next day, to give you both a chance to settle back in at home. 

In a way, it was awkward being in the same space as him again, especially after all that had happened. It had been your space, then yours and Spensa’s for so long that you weren’t used to having him around.

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about this at some point,” Spencer pointed out gently as he sat down on his side of the bed.

The sight took your breath away for a moment. It had never occurred to you that you’d have the opportunity to see him on his side of the bed, ever again, but here he was.

You just weren’t ready for that conversation at the moment.

“I promised you I’d show you pictures of Spensa,” you said, getting your phone off the charger.

He didn’t say anything about your shift of the subject. 

You sat down on the bed, pulling up pictures of your and Spencer’s daughter. You handed him your phone.

“Those are pictures from when she was born.”

He was speechless as he stared at the pictures, scrolling through them.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed, in awe.

“She is,” she smiled.

“She’s so tiny.”

“Definitely not tiny anymore,” you chuckled.

“What’s this?”

You scoot closer, peering at your phone screen.

“Oh that’s a mini photoshoot I did in different onesies that the team bought her. They were so big on her then.”

Spencer kept looking through the pictures, watching her grow up via photos and videos, desperately trying to soak up all the moments he’d missed out on.

You weren’t quite sure of when it happened, but you’d settled next to him, your shoulder touching his. He was quietly scrolling through pictures when you spoke.

“I thought you were gone forever,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

He looked up at you, the pictures forgotten for the time being. You guessed there was no better time to talk about this than the present.

“I know. I knew the risks I had to take when I decided to fake my death.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? Especially the team. They saw me all the time, how bad things got, how depressed I was and they never said a thing.”

“I told them not to, Y/N,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, I got that. But it still wasn’t fair to me.”

He sighed, placing the phone on the nightstand before turning back to you. He contemplated his next words before he spoke.

“I knew it wouldn’t be. It was a lose lose situation. I would be away from you and you would be hurting, but I wanted to protect you. I needed to keep you safe,” he rubbed his jaw, agitated, “Although a lot of good that did considering what happened.”

“Spencer, you can’t blame yourself for things that Cat did. She’s the one that did this, not you.”

“I know, but she tricked me too. As much as I tried to outsmart her, she seemed to be one step ahead of me. She told me if I came with her, she wouldn’t hurt you, so I did.”

“But she kidnapped me anyway, just to mess with you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Was it true? What she said you told her? That there’s a part of you attracted to her or fascinated with her, or something?”

“Truthfully, yes,” his tongue glided over his lips, stalling his continuation.

“That kiss you saw...part of it was just giving into what I knew she wanted from me because I knew she would hurt you if motivated enough. Part of it was all the frustration and hurt and anger she’s caused me. It just kinda came all out, in that kiss.”

“Yeah, it was...something,” you chuckled slightly.

“I’m sure I could do better with you.”

You grinned marginally.

“What about your wound? You actually got shot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shirt to show the now faded scar from surgery, “That part is true. I had to have surgery and it was touch and go there for a while. Hotch decided then I was to fake my death until Cat was caught and I agreed once I had woken from surgery.”

You turned the information over in your mind. You wanted to be mad at him, mad at the team, but you knew that wouldn’t be fair to them. They had a job to do, Spencer had tried to do his best in a bad situation. You were still hurt, but you weren’t angry.

“I understand you did what you had to do. Faking your death, Cat and all. I can’t be upset with you just for trying to keep me safe.”

Another silence fell, but a more comfortable one now that you’d cleared the air. 

You slid down on the bed, making yourself more comfortable against your pillow, assuming he was going to return to looking at pictures.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you looked up at him.

“You know that no matter what convoluted thing Cat and I shared that she doesn’t hold a candle to you, right?”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I hurt you, I can tell. I don’t want her to win. I don’t want her to break us up.”

“She won’t. I wouldn’t dare let her have the satisfaction,” you said.

“I don’t love her, I love you,” his fingers traced your cheek.

“And I love you,” you whispered.

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours. It had been so long since you last felt his touch that it was like the first time all over again. Your hand slid across his jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. 

He slid down the bed with you, moving over you as his lips moved against yours. It was as if the two of you were rediscovering each over anew. Just the way he kissed you made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

His hands slid under your shirt, resting on your stomach and pushed up your shirt, breaking the kiss only to pull the shirt over your head. He looked down at you, pursing his lips in contemplation as his eyes drank you up.

“What?” you whispered.

“Nothing. I just love you, is all.”

You smiled, pulling his face back to yours. You lay there a while, just simply kissing each other, the kisses varying in length and pressure. From slow and sweet kisses to longer and more heated kisses, you both were making up for lost time.

Between kisses more items of clothing hit the floor until you were both left completely skin to skin attempting to get as close to one another as you could.

His lips grazed your collarbones, a hand sliding up your side before his gaze returned to yours, eyes locked with yours as he entered you.

Your soft moan mingled with his own. It had been so long since you’d been in each other’s arms that the sensation was a blissful relief. 

Your chest was flush with his and you felt his skin glide against yours as his whole body moved with his thrusts. Your hands ran over his back, pulling him closer to you.

His lips pressed against yours, a deep groan rumbling in his throat. He broke the kiss, his mouth hovering close over yours as he moved within you. He was so close you could feel his breath across your face, his breathing becoming erratic.

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned and your stomach churned in desire at the sentiment.

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and your hand gripped the back of his hair, your hips beginning to have a mind of their own, working for that sweet release. The bed shook from your passion as your bodies moved together quickly.

You were incapable of words, repeated moans escaping your lips. His lips kissed your neck, nipping just hard enough to add to your pleasure.

“Spence, Spencer,” you whimpered, your toes beginning to curl.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt in your ear. You had to smirk to yourself, you still knew what drove him wild.

His grip on your hips tightened, moving them to a different position resulting in your feeling of him deeper inside you. You couldn’t even care about being embarrassed at the loud moan he elicited from you.

Spencer’s hand came up to caress your head then landed on the bed sheet next to your face, gripping the sheet in his grasp. His grunts and groans of your name rang in your ears as the pressure in your stomach built.

Inadvertently your legs pulled him nearer as if he couldn’t get any closer to you than he already was. You could feel his own muscles tense, your knowledge of his body and his tells coming back to you as if it had never been such a lengthy period.

Your teeth scrape against your bottom lip, his fingertips finding your clit, knowing exactly when and how to bring you to careening over the edge. You do just that, your nails scraping down his back with a vengeance. The long break from intimacy has made this high even better than you remembered, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

You faintly register his growl of your name as he comes apart, his jaw slackened with his groans, eyes closed blissfully. Your hand is still tangled in his hair and you slide it down the side of his neck as you watch him recover. 

He’s breathing hard, as are you and his forehead rests against yours for a moment before he pulls away, looking at you lovingly. He leans down to kiss you softly and briefly, breaking away to push a strand of your hair that had fallen in your eyes, aside.

“I love you,” you whispered, captured by his gaze, smiling at his return of your sentiment.

“Welcome home to me.”

•

You were still naked when you heard the doorbell ring the next morning. That was what in fact woke the two of you.

“Shit,” you jumped out of bed, grabbing your clothes, “That’s probably JJ.”

He tossed you one of his shirts as you pulled on a pair of lacy underwear that you managed to find on the floor. Whether it was the correct pair or not didn’t matter, at least it was clothes. You pulled on the shirt afterwards.

“Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll go get the door.”

You rushed towards the front door before the bell could ring a third time. Opening it, you found JJ holding Spensa’s carrier, diaper bag and then a smirk. Her eyes roamed over your attire.

“Fun night?”

“Okay, not in front of the child,” you chuckled, taking her carrier and bag from her, “Thank you so much for watching her.”

“It’s no problem, really. It’s nice to have another girl around the house sometimes.”

You smiled, unbuckling Spensa from her carrier. She was already beginning to get fussy. She loved to be on the go and hated to be restrained.

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, it’s okay. I gotta run, besides I figured you’d like some family time,” she smiled, “She’s gonna love him, by the way.”

“She better, she’s too much like him.”

JJ laughed and gave Spensa a kiss on the head, telling you and her goodbye then left, leaving you and Spensa alone in the living room.

Spensa babbled, sucking on a finger.

“I have someone for you to meet, baby girl.”

More babbling ensued as you walked back to the bedroom. Spencer was still somehow trying to get dressed.

“Have you seen my pants?” he mumbled, before turning around and freezing.

“Spencer, I want you to meet your daughter, Spensa.”

Spensa was already fussing, trying to reach for him. He took her, a smile brightening his face.

“She sure doesn’t seem to be shy.”

“Oh no. She’ll let practically anyone hold her. She loves people,” you said.

“I can’t believe it,” he smiled, looking down at her.

Her fingers were back in her mouth and she was looking around the room contently.

“Look at those little curls,” he chuckled, running a hand over her head and then kissing it, “She’s perfect.”

“That she is,” she smiled, leaning against the dresser, watching the two of them.

“You’re totally going to be a daddy’s girl aren’t you?”

As if she had understood what he said, she yawned, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I love you so much, my little Spensa. I’m never leaving you or your mommy ever again.”

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[starlightsearches]

Oh goodie you're requests are open! First I just wanna say that I love you writing! You're so good!!! So if it's not to much trouble could you write something with Hux where the reader is just super anxious about something and he just helps? (I need some good ol comfort fluff ya feel lol) thank you ❤❤❤

For Good Luck Pt. 2

Thank you so much 🥰 I have this for you, but if it isn’t what you had in mind just shoot me another request and I’ll get started on it ASAP!

This is a second part to my Hux x Nurse! Reader that I did a little while ago. (here’s the first part if you are interested)

Requests are closed  ✨

Armitage Hux x Nurse! Reader pt. 2

Warnings: Language and some angst! It’s also a teeny bit horny . . .¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The general is gone—and whatever enchantment he had over you has gone with him—leaving you alone in the exam room, trying to process everything that had just happened. General Hux had kissed you. He’d asked you to go away with him, to go to the Supremacy and work there instead, because he was going to be there, and he wanted you to be with him. And you wanted to be with him too, right? You float more than walk out of the exam room, leaning back over the desk where Tayan sits, your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well, how’d it go?” Tayan asks without looking up from the screen of his datapad, “was it a tearful goodbye for the star-crossed lovers?” You know that whatever you tell him will make its way around the whole ship—passed between so many parted lips that the story would be unrecognizable if it ever made its way back to you—but you can’t worry about that right now; you need to tell someone.

“I’m being transferred to the Supremacy,” you say, but your voice sounds far-off, weightless, “the general requested it.” Gods, it doesn’t even sound real to you, how would anybody else believe it? You have to think, hard—remember exactly what it felt like when the general pressed his lips to the bend in your wrist, when he held your face in his hands and asked you to go away with him. You have to make sure you hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing, and still, even as you recall the strength of his grip as he tasted your skin, you aren’t positive that any of it actually happened.

Tayan’s datapad makes a loud clattering noise when it hits the floor, and he slams his hands down on the desk in front of you, leaning close. The sound startles you out of your trance, and you look at him, his eyes bright and eager.

“Have you been fucking the general this whole time?” he whispers, but you know he’d like to shout it, his voice rich with equal parts glee and surprise. “In this very medbay? How could you keep something like that from me?”

“Tayan, you know as well as I do that most of his visits are over in ten minutes or less.” It’s not the conversation you should be having, but it helps ground you, bring you back to reality instead of focusing on all the things you didn’t know. Like the nature of this new relationship with the general. Or what it would be like on the Supremacy. Or what he expected of you once you got there.

“I never said that he was fucking you well, and you’re not denying it,” Tayan raises his eyebrows at you, swatting you on the arm, and you shove him back.

“You’re really weird. You know that, right?” Insulting him will have to stand in for the words you can’t say, words like good bye, and I’ll miss you. Words that would make you question if you should really be leaving at all. 

“So when do you go?” he asks, recognizing the change in your demeanor, and you know he feels the same, his eyes softening as he places one of his hands over yours. 

“Less than an hour, now. He said he had to go speak to a few people on the bridge and then we’d take a transport,” Shit, you’re not going to cry, not again, and you try to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Tayan moves around the desk, pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug, and you let him, hugging him right back. A few tears slip down your cheeks, landing on the shoulder of his uniform and melting into the fabric. You want to go, but you still need to mourn everything you're about to lose.

“We’ll stay in touch,” he whispers, and you nod, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“Okay, yes, that will be good,” you say, forcing a very unconvincing smile onto your face.

“And you’ll have to keep me up to date on all the details of your amorous affair with the general,” he says, leaning back on the desk and throwing his hand to his forehead with dramatic flourish. The action is so ridiculous that you laugh, loudly, momentarily forgetting some of your worries.

“You’re an idiot, and I have to go,” you say, grabbing your bag from behind the desk. General Hux told you not to worry about any of your other belongings—apparently moving your things out of your quarters would be someone else’s job—which means that all you’ll have for the foreseeable future is the uniform you’re currently wearing and the items you brought with you to work: your datapad, a change of clothes, and your canteen. You try not to think about it too much.

You walk through the hallways of the Finalizer for the last time, as far as you know, hoping you’re moving in the right direction. You do eventually find the correct hangar, and he’s already waiting for you. The sight of him both settles your nerves and provokes them; his cool gaze reminds you of the feeling of leather as his hands gripped your face, the heat of his mouth on yours and the taste of blood. The memory makes you lightheaded, and you pull in a few deep breaths through your nose.

Your heart rate spikes, and your palms grow clammy. You're about to board a transport with one of the most powerful people in the Order, on your way to the Supreme Leader's flagship. And for what? Because of a kiss you shared with a man you've spoken all of twenty words to? It's insane.

He doesn't look at you when you stop, too busy talking to the pilot, but you feel other eyes on you, the hangar filling with the sound of hushed whispers that reach your ears even over the dull roar of the space. Your face grows warm from the attention, but the general seems to be ignoring it. Hux and the pilot finish their conversation, and he boards the ship without acknowledging you at all.

Is this all you were going to get from him? An occasional kiss in the privacy of the med bay and then him pretending that you didn't exist? You know that he probably doesn't want to draw any more attention than he already has, but still. You need to know that this isn't going to be a huge mistake, and even a glance would be a small amount of comfort. 

The transport is a small one, and you find a place to stand up against one of the walls, trying to make yourself as small as possible, folding your arms across your chest and bracing yourself for takeoff. The Supremacy is not far off and the journey is short, but you might as well be light-years away from the Finalizer now, since you won't be going back. The hangar is huge, much bigger than the one on the Finalizer, and no one pays you or the general any mind after you disembark.

"I need to speak to the Supreme Leader." Hux says, finally addressing you, but with his eyes stay elsewhere, "Can you find your way to the medbay? They'll be expecting you."

"No need to worry about me, General. I'm sure I'll manage." You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but you really can't help it—everything about this is overwhelming in the extreme. And, as much as you don't want to take your anger out on the General, you’re here because of him. He’s asking for a lot from you, and he’s not giving you much in return.

He doesn't respond—not verbally, at least—but he takes you by the arm, his grasp firm as he pulls you out of the hangar. It doesn’t hurt, but it's certainly strange, and you draw confused looks out of every person that you pass. You're not sure how far you've gone when he finally stops, each turn blurring into the next. The hallways look pretty much the same as the ones on the Finalizer, but the layout is completely different. You already anticipate that finding your way around will be next to impossible. Just one more thing to worry about.

The room he takes you to is dark and empty, but the lights turn on after the door closes. After a moment, you realize that you're in his quarters, and you're anxious all over again. You’ve been alone with the general plenty, but never in a place quite this private. He lets go of your arm, his hand moving to the side of your face where it rests gently as he turns your eyes to meet his.

"What are you doing?" Even when you're angry he still makes you breathless, your words quiet as they leave your lips. He moves closer, stopping your heart when he plants a gentle kiss at the juncture where your jaw meets your neck.

"Apologizing," he whispers the word against your ear, and the feeling makes you whimper, like some kind of idiot, like you're putty in his hands. His apology is working; you're having trouble remembering exactly why you were so upset before. You’re having trouble remembering anything. 

"I'm sure this is all very stressful for you," he continues, one hand moving to your waist, the other to your hair, both pulling you flush against him, his body solid against yours.

"I just don't know-" you begin, pausing for a moment as you focus on the mechanics of breathing, trying not to think about the things his mouth is doing to your neck, the marks he's going to leave. If people here weren't talking about you before, they certainly would be after this. "I don't know what I'm doing here, or what you want from me, and I just don't know if I can do this."

The general leans away and you’re left colder by his absence, but he makes up for it by taking your face in his hands again, running his thumbs over your cheeks as he whispers, "I'm sorry, I never wanted to put this kind of pressure on you. Will you forgive me?" You nod into his hands, a single tear slipping down your face and into his glove. You'd never had guessed that he could be so gentle, so kind. It makes you feel foolish for doubting him.

"I must go see the Supreme Leader now, but I'll be back. Will you wait for me here?" You nod again, and he presses or gentle kiss to the crown of your head. "I'm glad that you came with me," he mumbles against your hairline, and you smile in spite of yourself.

You're left alone in his quarters, your breathing steady and your heart rate calm. You still have questions—still have doubts—but they seem small now, in comparison to what you've gained. You get what you’ve always wanted, to be with him, and that makes you feel very lucky.

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