#maybe one day ill at least muster up the courage to ask if she wants to hang out outside of work or if she’d like to play a game together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

officialscaramouche · 3 years

Note

ayo feel like doing a gorou confession fic for me? pretty please with sprinkles on top (you know that fucking tiktok)

Ofc Pizzato anything for u my dear 🥰

Pairing: Gorou x gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst

Word count: 1,969

You heard a couple friendly knocks on your office door, eyes glancing to the clock to see it was a little past noon and you knew exactly who it was. “Come in,” you chime, putting down your pen and stretching upwards with a smile.

“Helloooooo!” You hear as the door swung open, Kazuha flaunting an envelope between his fingers. “Letter time!”

You sweep to your feet and give him grabby hands. “Give it to me!” He chuckles and places the thin paper into your hands. “Tell me who it is already,” you giggle as you rip it open and slide the letter out.

“No,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I keep my promises.”

You quirk and eyebrow before you fold open the letter. “Even if I bribe you with dango?”

Kazuha smiles. “Even if you bribe me with dango.”

You grunt and groan but it quickly stops when you unfold the letter, reading the contents.

Good afternoon, cupcake, it starts. You blush at the pet name. I hope your day is going as well as mine. I’ve just won the office lottery! I’m going to ask for more snacks in the break room. That way, everyone benefits too! Specifically though, I want more sakura mochi! The ones you made for us were delicious. Share your recipe? :3

I adore you, your secret admirer.

You squeeze the letter to your chest and squeal, your face warm from blushing and your heart pounding against your chest. “Oh, Kazuha, whoever this person is, I really wish they’d come up and confess!”

Kazuha tuts and wiggles his finger. “But then the mystery wouldn’t be there anymore.”

“Screw mystery!” You squealed, gazing down at the illegible and scratchy handwriting, the mysterious stains and fur all over the page. “I’m ready to hear these words in person.”

Just then there was a knock on your door and a quick turn of the knob, one of the top brass leaning against your door frame. “Good morning, Chatty Cathy’s,” sang a familiar voice and ear twitches.

You wave while Kazuha bows, hiding the letter behind your back. “Good morning, General Gorou.”

The tail behind his back wagged discreetly as the two men share a knowing glance. “Kazuha,” the general clears his throat. “May I speak with you?”

The samurai nods his head and gives you a little wave as he walks out the door. “Bye boys!” You sing, tucking the letter back into the envelope and putting it away.

The next day, as routine, a little past noon you heard three friendly knocks on your door. You excitedly put your pen down, closing your ledger and standing out of your chair and onto your feet. “Kazuha,” you grinned. “Come in!”

He pushed the door open with his back, lugging a big box with some plastic sticking out from the top. “I’m just a mule to you guys aren’t I?” He groaned, lifting the box up and onto your desk. “This is ridiculous.”

You stood on your tippy toes to try and peek inside the box without being obnoxious. “What is it?” You hum, getting more and more restless.

“Your letter, what else?” He kind of snapped, letting out a deep sigh and rolling his eyes. “I wish he’d confess too. That way I don’t have to carry these things.”

You pulled back the top of the box that was just out of your reach. “Here,” pushing your hands away, Kazuha tore the box apart to expose a giant basket full of goodies and flowers. “The letter.”

Kazuha snapped the taped-on letter from the plastic and handed it to you. Wasting no time at all, you rip the envelope open and unfold the letter.

Dearest [Y/N], you’ve pierced my heart like an arrow through a target and I simply cannot get you off my mind. I heard from the grapevine that you wish for my confession. …Maybe I shall do so in the near future? It’s not that I do not want to be yours, but rather that you make me quite nervous. Still, we see each other for terribly brief moments but these moments are the most precious to me. Hopefully I can muster up the courage to finally tell you how I feel. In the meantime, please accept these treats and toys imported from across the globe. My favorite are the dog-shaped biscuits.

Your shy admirer.

Looking up from the letter you find Kazuha stuffing his face with some chocolatey cookies from within a tin box labeled ‘Fontaine.’ “Are those good?” You ask, reaching in and stealing one.

“Mhm,” Kazuha hums, taking a bite out of the one in his hand. “I’ve never had Fontaine chocolate. I guess the rumors about being the best were true.”

You melt under the sweet taste and crunchy texture, thinking that if your crush’s letters had a taste, it would be like this. “This is so nice,” you sigh, eyes sparkling as they gaze upon the basket. “Do you think he’s going to confess to me?”

Kazuha stares out the windows of your office that peer into the rest of the building, watching a certain general spill water on himself and the resistance leader. He takes another bite of a cookie. “Maybe.”

You squeal in delight and spin around in joy. “My heart’s beating so fast! I hope he does it soon or I’ll explode!”

Kazuha chuckles and playfully shoves you aside. “If you explode, I’m eating all of your snacks.”

“No! They’re mine!”

Weeks— almost a month— go by with no further letters. Kazuha stopped coming by, whether at noon or otherwise. The only knocks you got were visits from Kokomi about the budget or from other soldiers carrying reports and receipts from spending. Your heart ached at the sudden lack of contact, wondering if you had done or said something wrong.

Maybe your eagerness was intimidating and this mystery man just wanted someone to flirt with without commitment. Maybe he got bored of you. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Regardless, you wanted to try and spark it back up in case you’ve stepped on some toes without realizing. That night when you got home, you tossed the ingredients for sakura mochi into a bowl and got to mixing.

The office ate everything you brought before lunchtime rolled around. With such great success, you had confidence that he’d reach out to you tomorrow, if not today.

But alas you were left in silence once more, leaving your heart to crumble and ache. You were quick to recover, considering you never met the guy— let alone knew his name. But you had no time to be worrying anyway, because in a couple of days one of the squads were returning from the front lines and you needed to factor in medical costs. Apparently they took a hard hit when Sara Kujou showed up with her samurai. Kokomi was depending on you, and you didn’t want to let her down.

You spend these few days really crunching the numbers, making sure that every wounded soldier would get the basic medical necessities with some left over for any miscalculations. With every i dotted and every t crossed, you stuffed your report into a fancy envelope and handed it to Kokomi. “Thank you [Y/N] for your hard work under such a sudden timetable.” She thanked, tucking the envelope under her arm. “The team should be arriving tomorrow, so I will be submitting this for review immediately.”

You bow respectfully and offer your thanks for praise. “It’s no problem at all, Her Excellency. I was given ample time to prepare the balance sheet.” You begin to turn when you’re stopped once again by her.

“Before you go,” she smiles softly. “Would you mind helping out at the infirmary? We’re short handed right now with the sudden intake of Delusions.”

“Of course, Her Excellency. I will be there whenever you need me.”

You weren’t specialized in medics but you had helped around often enough to know the basics. And anyone could become a master at immediate medical attention after doing it so many times.

The flood of gurneys was a little disheartening to see, but you were still thankful for all that they do for the greater of the country. It must be scary being at the front lines, but everyone knew what they were signing up for.

You catch sight of Genera Gorou and Lord Kazuha chatting with Lady Kokomi before you were assigned to a batch of wounded soldiers, feeling a little bad for harboring ill feelings toward the young lord for disappearing. ‘You could’ve at least told me that you were leaving,’ you thought as you rinsed the injured area.

“I can take over from here,” the head medic stepped in, slipping on a new pair of gloves before getting a closer look at the soldier before you. With most of everyone patched up and recovering, the medic team was able to take control of the infirmary once again.

You wash your hands and check the clock. A little past noon. It’s funny how at this time you would’ve waited with bated breath for a couple of knocks. But not anymore.

You step out of the infirmary and find Kazuha and General Gorou sitting outside on the benches there. “Oh, hi boys,” you say surprised.

Kazuha grabs and shakes your hand. “Thank you for helping out our soldiers,” he says seriously.

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” you mutter. “I do this all the time.”

A calloused hand pushes Kazuha’s away and shakes your hand firmer, harder. “No, [Y/N],” Gorou says with a sort of oomph behind his words. “These are my men…my family. They would be suffering if not for your help.”

You look to the side uncomfortably, a little put-off by the tension in the air. “And that’s why—!” Gorou continues, suddenly eight decibels louder. You hold eye contact with the general, his face darkening into a deep red flush, his eyes glassy and ears twitching. He squeezed your hand harder and shut his eyes. “M-My C-C-Cupcake!!! P-Please let m-me take you on a date!!!!”

Kazuha winced at the loudness of his friend, covering one of his ears but still smiling nonetheless. The people walking by stared and mumbled, but it didn’t matter as you felt your heart pound against your chest. You felt your eyes well with tears as now your face flushed red, the general cautiously opening his eyes to see your trembling lips and pathetic pout. “A-Ah! [Y/N], don’t cry!!”

You tug on his hand hard, pulling the man into your arms and squeezing him tight. You sobbed into his chest, hearing and feeling how frantic his heart was beating as well. “You idiot!” You shout into his battle-worn chest. “Don’t disappear without telling me…”

Gorou caressed the back of your head and chewed on his lip, his tail drooping with guilt but twitching with excitement for being in your arms. “Did I…scare you?” He whispered tentatively, choosing his words carefully.

You pull away and wipe your eyes, Gorou watching you closely and holding tightly onto your waist. “I thought you got tired of me…because I stopped hearing from you.” Gorou frowned and cupped your face, thumbing your cheeks gently. “I even made sakura mochi and I didn’t—”

“You made sakura mochi??!??!!! Is there any left?!?” Gorou’s jaw dropped. He let you go to turn and run to the break room, halting before running back to embrace you once more. “Heh, uh…” he chuckled nervously. “I’d actually…rather hold you like this…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your cheeks, flushing your body against his chest. “That’s okay,” you giggle. “There aren’t any left.”

You had no idea that his ears could flatten sadly like that.

#writing #Gorou #Gorou x reader #angst #fluff #oneshot #a stupid capricorn

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purplefair · 3 years

Text

j.t. | all i wanted

pairing: jason todd x unrequited!reader & platonic!dick grayson x platonic!reader

a/n: dear fucking god- this hurt to write- and this is an au where all the robins are living at the manor. reader is close friends with the batboys. also “she” is the new batgirl- also, there isn’t a specific iteration of the characters that is mentioned, i left that up to your imagination. :) and i didn’t know how tf to begin this-

request: yes by @artistichoodiegirl : “i wrote a poem that reminds me of jason. can you write an angst fic based off of it?”

warnings: ANGST OMFG THE ANGST- also, i don’t know if i like the way this came out, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. :)

you wanted to deny your feelings for him, but being as that felt physically impossible, you felt like a lost cause. crying your eyes out almost every night all because of a stupid guy. your brain tells you that you’re an adult, that you shouldn’t be so messed up over a guy, that you’re pathetic for feeling this way.

this night wasn’t any different, laying on your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

dick walked down the hallway to your bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready, but when he heard your sniffling through the door before he was about to knock, he became concerned for his best friend. dick knocked, not giving you a chance to respond before turning the handle and opening your door to find you and your room a mess.

tissues everywhere, empty water-bottles, and and dishes on your bed-side table. he sighed before asking the same question he had been asking you for days, “are you okay?”

you turned to him, and what he saw shocked him. your hair messy and all over the place, eyes and nose red, it didn’t look like you were just sad, you looked ill.

“yeah, i’m just peachy.” you replied sarcastically, trying to deter him from being serious with you. “y/n i’m being serious. you’ve been cooped up in here for what seems like days, the boys are worried about you.” you chuckled, still trying to make it seem like you were okay.

dick walked a little bit further into your room before closing the door, knowing you didn’t like your door open. he moves to your bed, sitting across from you, “is he worried?” you asked, already thinking that this certain “he” couldn’t give less of shit about you.

“yes, jason is. he’s been wondering if you’re okay, why you’ve been avoiding him, and why you won’t even so much as look at him anymore.” you keep your eyes looking away from dick, knowing looking at him would make you sob again. “you know i can’t tell him why.”

“why not? you aren’t going to ruin his happiness with her by just talking to him about how you feel. i bet you’d even find at least some closure by talking to him!” you know he’s right, he usually is about these things. you, again, didn’t respond. opting to keep your eyes away from dicks gaze.

“if you’re not going to talk to him, fine. but at least come out and get dinner, talk to the rest of the family for a little bit, please?”

“i don’t know dick-“ “please, for me?” you shouldn’t have looked at him, his gorgeous blue eyes are impossible to say no to. “…fine. but let me get ready, i look like absolute shit right now.”

“yeah, you do.” that earned him a pillow to the face.

you closed your bedroom door before heading down the hall and to the kitchen. were you nervous, yeah. did you really want to speak to jason, no. but, you were doing this for your best friend and no one else.

and of course, the sight that you didn’t want to see the most was right in front of you, jason sitting on the couch with her in his lap, almost on top of him.

“hey, look who finally came out of hiding.” you mentally cursed tim for making it obvious. heads turned, but jason’s and hers stayed where they were, as though the couldn’t care less. you looked away from them and moved over to where damian, tim, and dick had been sitting after already getting some food.

you were 90% sure that tim knew about your feelings for jason, you didn’t know if damian knew or cared, and of course, dick being the emotional support friend, of course he knew.

you four sat in comfortable silence, occasionally hearing jason and her giggle, making you want to shiver from how uncomfortable it was. tim seemed to notice this and gave you a look of sympathy, damian lyes back on the couch and muttered to himself, “idiot…” looking at jason.

you chuckled softly, you didn’t know what it was, but damian had a way of making you feel better, even if it was unintentional. of course he knew, your moping had been kind of obvious.

making comfortable small talk with the other boys while eating, jason occasionally looked at you. ‘i should talk to her.’ he thought, before being distracted by the woman in front of him.

laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling trying not be/ feel pathetic for being upset that he didn’t even speak to you during dinner. you grabbed the pillow on the other side of your bed and pushed it over your face, and screamed.

even though jason has never slept in your bed with you, it felt…cold and lonely. he was something you craved, but knew you could never have, like god just wanted to continue to fuck you over.

there’s a knock on the door and you’re sitting up very quickly, “hey, can we talk?” it was jason.

hoping you looked okay, you gave a little huff and said to yourself, “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

“come in!” jason heard through the door, turning the handle and making his way into your room. your eyes widened and tried to act normal, like his presence didn’t make your stomach do flips. he closes the door behind you and sits next to you on the bed, you of course still not looking at him.

“why have you been avoiding me? you haven’t talked to me in days, and you can barely look at me. what’s going on?”

you wanted to tell him, you really did. but you couldn’t ruin what they had, knowing it’d be awkward for you, jason, her, and the rest of the boys.

“nothing is the matter jason, i just…haven’t been in the best state of mind recently, that’s all.” you mustered enough courage to turn and look at him, automatically regretting it to find him already looking at you. his eyes full of concern, but void of love. sure, maybe an almost sibling love, but not romantic. before all of this you had tried to make it painfully obvious of how you thought of him. but after she showed up, there was nothing really you could do.

“y/n, i’m going to take your word for it, and not pry. but i still want to talk to you.” “about?”

he looked at you once again, “does it matter?”

no, it didn’t, all that mattered was that he was talking you, something you had tried to avoid but internally yearned for.

asking the most painful question, just to make it seem like you really were okay, “how’re things going between you two?” he laughed, his beautiful smile never failing to mesmerize you.

“they’re going pretty good actually, i think i want to marry her.”

why were you surprised? they had been going for awhile now and of course he’d want to marry her. she could give him everything he wanted.

you tried not to whip your head around at him, you also tried not to burst out in sobs upon hearing those words. he wanted to marry her? “oh wow, that’s…a big commitment.” you laughed, trying to seem normal.

he in turn laughed a little too, “yeah, i know, but she just makes me so happy. i finally have the chance to have the family i’ve always wanted,”

“have two kids, preferably daughters. i am definitely going to name one amber.” of course he would, he’d always loved that name.

the pain in your chest is indescribable, you had hoped that he’d be having that family with you. but , it seems as though you may have waited too long. “that sounds amazing…i’m so happy for you.”

the words sounded disingenuous, but at this point you didn’t care. it hurt too much to see the person you love the absolute most, talk about starting a family with someone other than you.

faking a yawn you stood up, “i’m pretty tired, so i’m gonna have to kick you out now.” jason gazed up at you, faking being offended. “wow, we just started talking again and you’re kicking me out? rude.”

you laughed as he stood up and walked to your door, you following not far behind. when he stood just outside your door and in the hallway, there was an awkward silence. “goodnight, jason-“

“before i leave, can i get a hug? i’ve missed you y’know.” jason held his hand between the door and the doorway.

you hated how much you loved those words, he said he missed you. “yeah, you can have a hug.”

jason pushes the door open and quickly wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “please never avoid me like that again.”

he muttered in your ear, sounding genuinely hurt by what you had done. “i won’t.”

it felt like minutes before he pulled away, looking down at you and smiling. “you should get some sleep, i can see your eye bags underneath your concealer.”

“shut up, asshole.” you laughed, knowing he was just teasing you. jason stepped out of your room and into the hallway, “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, jason.” you both smiled at one another before he walked down the hall to his bedroom. you closed your door and suddenly everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

he was going to marry her, he wanted her children, and he’s going to name one amber.

he’s going to have the “big, happy family life”, something you knew you probably would be apart of. possibly babysitting his children.

you hated thinking about it, but, as long as he was happy. you’d do anything for him, even while suffering in silence.

now you were left to yourself, again, laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of your face and soaking your hair.

“fuck, i’m pathetic.”

you cried yourself to sleep, for the 7th time that week. wishing you would have been brave enough to just tell him how you feel, but instead you’re all alone.

and who else is there to blame, but yourself?

also, here’s the poem that the requester wrote! <3

I tried to win your love but

I can't compete

when she already won

god she's so much better

you should give her that diamond ring

I was begging for

I bet she's dying for you to get down on one knee

You probably already sing her to sleep

brush her hair

like you used to do for me

now i'm alone

got no one to hold

god my bed is so cold

But I still hope she's happy

make her smile when she's lonely

and give her a home

now that I'm alone..

imagine all of the little babies

you'll have driving her crazy

You'll probably have 2 daughters

I bet you'll name one Amber

you always really liked that name

you'll be such a wonderful father

I know you had those doubts

but I know she'll even them out,

And even though we aren't together

you always have my shoulder

for when your doubts

start to make the world dark

I just hope I'll still be around

to meet all of your little ones

but for now

I'll sit here and watch you…

be happy

I bet she's feels lucky

I'm glad you have one another

to hold each other

and keep the bed warm...

I hope you're happy

and never ever feel lonely

I'm glad you found a home

now that I'm alone...

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #angst #x reader #my first fic

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched.

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?"

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her.

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison.

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry @thesapphictimelady

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radioactivepeasant · 4 years

Text

Fic Prompts: Revenge of the Star Wars Wednesday

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the dashboard... (It’s an entire chapter of the same au as This Free Day Thursday I did a ways back, where a splinter cell of the Rebellion hands Luke over to Vader in a deal with the devil. The context: Vader got called away before getting a chance to tell Luke what was going on, and had to leave the poor guy in his hyperbaric egg chamber of doom. Which is air conditioned all to heck because that suit gets toasty. Unfortunately, Luke is from a very warm climate, and high powered air conditioning does not agree with him. At all. He’s having a bad day by the time Vader gets back and Many Blankets are required.)

Luke dreamed of falling.

"Alright, Skywalker. This is your stop."

He saw Leia screaming.

"You're wrong! You're wrong!"

She was calling for him. He knew that she was.

"I'm here!" He tried to call back to her, "I'm here, Leia! Help me!"

But the wind scattered his words, and he fell.

He fell past Leia's horrified face, towards a range of mountains. Faces he might have recognized formed and disintegrated in the snow around him, and the wicked looking peak directly below.

With a choked cry, Luke flailed his arms and met with stiff resistance. Well. More soft than stiff. And heavy. Very heavy. Slowly, by degrees, Luke became aware of his surroundings. He could barely move. Something was holding him down on a-

A bed.

He was on a bed.

On a Star Destroyer.

Everything came back to Luke in a rush. Kobyvern. The handoff. The cell. The cold.

And Vader.

Luke opened his eyes. He didn't hear the respirator, but the sense of foreboding looming over him suggested that the dark lord was somewhere near. It was imperative that Luke not be so...so vulnerable when he returned.

Why couldn't he move?! Had he been strapped down? Panic flooded Luke's veins.

No no no, take it slow, Skywalker! Breathe in- breathe out.

When his heart had resumed a slightly more normal pace, Luke took a slow breath and tried to sit up.

This turned out to be more difficult than he'd expected. If he craned his neck, he could just make out heavy black cloth beneath the blankets, wound around him and pinning his arms to his sides. Well, that was one way of keeping someone from escaping. Arguably more embarrassing than handcuffs, but also preferable to them.

The amount of effort it took to free just one arm was a thorough enough distraction that Luke didn't hear the door hiss open. He pulled at the cape and blankets, already cursing the cold his free arm hinted at. It was tempting to nestle down into the pile of blankets -- there had to be at least four of them -- and let the warmth drag him back down into sleep. But that would doubtless be akin to trusting the hospitality of a Hutt. You didn't get something for nothing. There was going to be a price to pay for this, and Luke wasn't sure he'd be able to afford it.

Luke tried to push himself up into a sitting position and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand appeared from his peripheral vision to push him back against the pillows.

"Rest easy, son. You've had a hard day."

Vader had returned.

It was difficult to know what bothered Luke more: the uncharacteristic gentleness in Vader's hands, or that he'd called him son.

Luke recoiled as far from Vader as he could.

It wasn't that far.

"You are not in danger, young one. Be still." Vader held out a placating hand.

His jaw ached from clenching and chattering, but Luke gritted his teeth again nonetheless. "I'm s- s-s s'posed to b-believe that-t-t?"

Ugh. It was still cold outside the blankets.

He did not like that he could actually hear amusement in Vader's voice when the man answered, "If I wished harm to come to you, young one, do you really think you would be here?"

Luke picked at the covers and tried to scowl. But being in close proximity to Darth Vader for an extended period of time didn’t exactly bolster one’s courage. The most he could muster was an anxious frown. Don’t let him get to you. He’s manipulating you. Waiting for you to let your guard down. Then he’ll bring in the torture droid.

“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “D-don’t trus-s-t you.”

Alright, that might’ve been a bit too blunt.

Vader inclined his head -- helmet? How much of that was his head? Did Luke actually want to know? -- and made a sound curiously like a sigh. “That is to be expected. We were not introduced under particularly favorable circumstances.”

Luke stared at him incredulously. Introduced? As if they were diplomats crossing paths at a senator’s ball? Introduced?!

This was the man who just...slaughtered anything and anyone that got in his way. He was there for every horrible thing that happened to Leia. He was the reason Luke was stuck trying to figure out the Force on his own. He was the reason Luke was alone! And here he was, upset that Luke didn’t trust him?

“My medical droid informs me that your core temperature has...improved. But you are still feeling ill effects.” If Vader felt as awkward as he looked, he kept it out of his voice admirably. A little too calmly, he lifted a steaming cup from somewhere behind him and held it out.

Luke shrank back. “I d-don’t want it.”

Vader’s shoulders tensed, just a fraction. “It is not poisoned, young one. Nor does it contain a truth drug, or whatever else outlandish theories you have concocted.”

“You c-could be l-l-lying.”

“I could. But I have no reason to be.”

Luke could think of a few reasons. Pure cruelty came to mind. Or lulling him into a false sense of security. After all the bluster about capturing the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, having a tea party with a dark lord wasn’t really on the agenda.

He jumped when the cup was pressed into his hands.

“You do not have to drink it. But the heat will benefit you.” Vader leaned back into a chair that most certainly had not been there before. “Transitioning from Tatooine to the climate of long-term space travel is...taxing.”

No, transitioning from getting thrown out of a ship to getting locked in the Ice Pod is “taxing”, Luke thought, glaring into the cup.

Whatever liquid was inside, it was dark, and smelled almost earthy. Not caf, some kind of tea, perhaps? The steam curled up to bathe his face, and he could begrudgingly admit that it was doing him a world of good.

“My meditation chamber is not meant to hold such low temperatures for such an extended period of time,” Vader said suddenly. “The General’s summons, I fear, did not give me adequate time to reset the cooling system. You were never meant to experience that.”

Luke didn’t care if it was childish or not. He pulled his knees slowly up to his chest -- fighting through entirely too many blankets -- and rested the cup on them. He refused to look up. He would not make eye contact with his father’s killer.

Actually, where even are his eyes under there?

“D-didn’t exp-p-pect the Empire to ap-p-p-pologize to a p-p-risoner,” he mumbled.

His stammer was decreasing, slowly. He thought a warm drink would certainly help, but he was not brave enough to risk whatever was in that cup.

“I would rather you did not think of yourself as a prisoner, but I understand that your experiences have not given you cause to believe otherwise,” Vader answered. “But you are correct: that was intended to be an apology. I will not allow such a thing to happen again.”

The cup seemed like porcelain. Impossibly delicate. But it held up well under Luke’s grip as it tightened. This was getting ridiculous. The handoff. The fall. The pod. The blankets. The tea.

“Just…”

Vader stilled. He cocked his head, as if listening intently. “Luke?”

It was too much.

He broke.

“Don’t c-c-call me that!”

“It is your name.”

“It’s m-m-my! Name!” Luke’s chest heaved. “You d-d-on’t use it! Stop p-p-pretending! I’m n-n-not going to tell you anyth-th-ing!”

I can’t, I can’t do this, Father. I didn’t want to cry, don’t let me cry!

Vader leaned forward again. “Why do you believe that I am pretending?”

Was he kidding?

Luke finally looked up at him. “Y-you k-kill Jedi,” he spat. “Like you k-killed my father.”

And that was what broke the facade.

“Enough.” Vader reached down and took the tea from Luke.

He set it on the tray and whirled back to face the boy.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “Whatever Kenobi told you, whatever wild fictions he spun about your past, he lied.”

Luke’s shoulders hitched. He pulled back against the wall and turned his face back to his knees. “I d-d-on’t believe you!”

“Look at me!”

Vader took his chin in one hand and pulled it up. “Look at me, Luke. He lied to you. And he lied to me. Why do you think I wear a mask? Do you even know what he did?”

“No no no-” Luke tried to shake his head. “W-why-?”

“Why would he lie to you?” Vader asked angrily. “Why, Luke, would he be so interested in making sure that you believed I killed your father? What did you do on Cymoon, before I knew your name?”

Vader’s anger shook the room, cutting the lights into fragments as shadow overtook them. But somehow, Luke didn’t feel that the anger was directed at him as much as it was at Obi-wan. They really had hated each other, then. But why would Obi-wan lie about his father’s death? He had his lights-

The lightsaber.

Luke’s gut churned.

Vader had his lightsaber now. His father’s lightsaber. And now it was in the possession of the man who had allegedly killed him.

Allegedly.

Allegedly?

Why was he even considering Vader’s words? This was Darth Vader! He was a liar- not this time

He was a monster -- maybe so

“W-what do you want?” Luke’s voice cracked. “I d-d-on’t understand!”

The hand on his chin pulled away without warning. The shadows retreated sullenly to pool around the chair. “I know.”

Vader raised his hand again. He hesitated when Luke flinched, then rested it on the crown of his head. “I know you don’t. Not yet. Use the Force, Luke.”

“What?”

Vader tilted his head back with a gentle push. “I know that you can. Stretch out with your feelings. What did you intend to do on Cymoon?”

It wasn’t enough to simply tell the boy the truth. He needed him to see. He needed him to understand. He was a pawn. They had both been pawns. For a moment he almost wished Kenobi lived, so that he could run him through again.

“What did you int-”

“Kill you!” Luke burst out. It came out with a tiny, exhausted sob. “I w-was going to kill you.”

“Because?”

“B-because you k-killed my-”

“Because you thought that I had killed your father,” Vader interrupted sternly. “Because Obi-wan sent you, untrained, untested, into battle having told you that I was your great enemy in some noble quest to avenge a father you never had the chance to meet.”

“Stop.” Luke didn’t want to hear this. This was a kind of torture after all, wasn’t it? It was emotional. Psychological. But there could be no tactical benefit in telling him these things. Why was Vader telling him these things? Why not just kill him and be done with it?

“Who took you from your mother?” Vader’s earlier question rang in Luke’s ears.

A trickle of sweat dried cold on the back of his neck. What did Darth Vader know about his mother?

Do you really want to pull on that thread, Luke?

“What do you want?” He tried. He tried so hard to keep the tears from coming. But he was tired and afraid, and so, so overwhelmed.

Vader’s hand smoothed his hair, disturbingly gentle. “I want you to understand that you are not alone, Luke. That you were never alone.”

He raised his other hand. Held Luke’s face between them.

“Do you know why Kenobi told you that I had killed your father?”

“Don’t-” Luke whispered brokenly. He couldn’t take it. Not this. Not him.

“Luke. Look at me. What does the Force tell you?”

“I don’t know-” Luke tried to pull away. Please don’t please don’t don’t tell me don’t change things don’t let it all be lies- “I don’t know!”

“I did not kill your father.”

It was said with such an air of finality that it rang through the Force, even with Luke’s muffled attempts to read it.

“No,” he agreed.

His world had a little crack, right at the edge. It was small now, but just the right pressure, and-

“I am your father.”

Crack.

#phew! that was a long one #long post #star wars wednesday #The Handoff au #The Handoff fic #star wars au #good lord that was a whole dang chapter I just threw at y'all #fic prompts #writing prompts #my aus #my fics #darth vader #luke skywalker #dangit vader #that could be a tag on its own lol #local dingus of a sith lord does not know the meaning of Tact or Subtlety

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collabwithmyself · 4 years

Text

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (2/2)

The article in the paper under the list of missing persons had the wrong name before "Wright, age nine," and a lump formed in Miles's throat.

"That's not his name," he tried to say. It came out as a croak. "We told them his name was Phoenix. I know we did."

Ray, sitting beside him at the dining room table, looked disgusted but defeated. "They added it as a footnote," he pointed out. ""Responds to Phoenix"... Nick's not a dog."

Miles wanted to hunt down every copy of the paper and throw them all into the trash can. His best friend was missing, and people were calling him the wrong name because he wasn't there to stop them. It wasn't fair.

Miles looked to Ray as though he had an answer to right this horrible injustice. Ray looked as tired and frustrated as he felt, chewing on a thumbnail as he thought deeply.

"We can head down and talk to them," he offered, after a long pause.

That was what Father would have done. He would have marched right down to the office where they printed the paper and demanded a retraction. But nobody was going to take a freshman law student and his newly adopted nine year old seriously.

"It's worth a try," Miles responded, because a defense attorney should never give up hope.

⁂

Staying up late to scrutinize the series he already knew by heart for clues of some sort was a mistake, and Miles knew it. His eyes began to droop only partway through the season as Maya snored against his side, and he was vaguely aware he was becoming less and less alert every time he had to pull his head back up from his chest.

It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't be letting himself doze off in the presence of company.

His sleep was never restful. Every night, his subconscious was forcibly yanked back to the day everything changed.

Some nights, he found himself reliving what he was certain was a memory. The dialogue never changed, the action never shifted. A heated argument in the elevator, a foolish bid to stop it, a single gunshot, and that horrid, high-pitched wail of agony that he knew belonged to one of the people he'd lost that day.

Other times, he dreamed not of his father, but of Phoenix.

Those dreams changed, but they remained the same nonetheless. Whether running through the streets with Larry, or through the backyard of his home, or through the hallways of the courthouse, the same thing always happened - Phoenix disappeared. Maybe he ran too far ahead, or lagged too far behind, but Miles's friend was suddenly nowhere to be found, and he felt painfully, crushingly alone.

His subconscious had decided to grace him with the former that night, and when he woke up with "father" on his lips and sweat on his forehead, a rumpled-looking Maya was staring at him in undisguised concern.

"...are you o--"

Miles turned away from her and said nothing, effectively stopping the conversation before it began.

Maya was silent, and when Miles glanced back over, her gaze was fixed on the television, which was still playing through the old episodes of Steel Samurai. She lacked the enthusiasm they both shared for the show, however. She seemed deep in thought.

"...you don't wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.

He and Uncle Ray never talked after nightmares. One would get up to find the other in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea, and silently join them, knowing the other was thinking of the same thing but not having the courage to voice it aloud. Saying it gave it form, and Miles refused to shed any more tears over something he knew full well was his fault.

"No," Miles responded, sharp and blunt all at once.

"You wanna talk about something else, then?" Maya glanced sideways at him. "I used to talk with Sis after I had nightmares. It helped get my mind off things."

Miles hesitated. "Something else sounds nice," he said quietly.

"How about court today? Prosecutor von Karma was hopping mad, huh?" Maya let a grin stretch across her face as she leaned towards Miles. "She looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. Or maybe yours."

"That woman needs to see a therapist," he muttered.

"I think we all do, My."

"...you've got me there."

⁂

As the trial wore on throughout its second day, Sascha von Karma continued to act stranger and stranger. Before the judge could reprimand her for being far too harsh with the witness, Cody Hackins faltered and lost the confidence Miles had been working hard to build up about his witness account, a terrified look in his eyes. To his surprise, von Karma went ashen and actually stumbled back a little, like she hadn't meant to push a little boy nearly to tears.

Honestly, with her disposition, Miles wouldn't have thought she would care. But here she was, clutching her side, eyes blown wide with something like fear. Something in Miles's stomach turned over. Was he actually feeling sympathetic for this ferocious woman?

But it wasn't just him. Mia beside him (that had been a jolt to his nervous system -- he hadn't been able to see her clearly the last time Maya had summoned her) had her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at the prosecution. "I haven't seen her make a face like that since..."

Miles glanced at her. "Since... what?"

"...don't worry about it. Focus on the trial here and now, Miles." Mia gave him that mysterious smile that meant she was withholding important information from him. He knew it well. He huffed at her, and she huffed back.

Despite Mia's testimony, von Karma had that same look on her face as Vasquez took the stand the next day, wide eyes flicking between the witness and the defense bench. She was strangely silent, not offering a single protest as Miles proceeded with the cross-examination.

But he couldn't afford to wonder about it. Vasquez was clever and tight-lipped, and his attempts to wring her testimony dry and find something to pin her down were fruitless. She and the judge had both gotten irritated at this point, and when Miles hesitated, scrambling to find some point he hadn't pressed, the latter decided he'd had enough.

Miles cursed inwardly as the judge raised his gavel. Vasquez adjusted the pin of her shawl, self-assured in her victory. This was the end. He was prepared to accept defeat.

He couldn't have possibly prepared for what happened next, however.

"OBJECTION!"

Miles jerked his head up. Beside him, Maya gasped in surprise.

Across the room from him, left arm outstretched in a frantic point, was a frazzled, trembling Sascha von Karma.

She stared blankly at her own hand, as though it had moved of its own volition. Then she jumped - actually jumped - when the judge demanded to know the meaning for the interruption.

"Right! Uh. Um. The reason I objected," she babbled, "is because... uhh..."

It was the least composed Miles had ever seen her. He was bewildered. What did she think she was doing?

"...I don't have a reason," she admitted, shoulders slumping.

"Er..." The judge blinked owlishly at her. "Very well. Now--"

"OBJECTION!"

The poor judge looked as baffled as Miles felt. "Miss von Karma?"

"I... I request that the witness testify again!" she blurted out, digging her fingers into the desk. She looked disheveled, stray hairs having slipped out of her ponytail to poke out at a very odd angle. "I, um... I want to hear about... the, uh..."

Vasquez snarled with impatience. "Why are you badgering me? I'm your witness!"

"I'm inclined to agree!" the judge added. "I see little point in making Ms. Vasquez repeat herself..."

Miles looked at Maya. Maya looked at Miles. What?? Maya mouthed at him. Miles shrugged helplessly.

von Karma floundered. "Uh... yeah... great point... ummmmMMM! I want to-- I wish to hear about the body discovery! What happened after you found it?"

That hadn't occurred to Miles. But what could that possibly reveal? And why was von Karma risking sabotaging her own case by asking after it? She practically had the win in the bag, and after Miles had humiliated her so thoroughly after their last clash in court, she had no reason to let this continue.

What was going on?

⁂

The relief of a not guilty verdict and the butterflies of being in such close proximity to Mr. Powers yet again were a powerful combination that filled Miles's mind with fuzz and forced out any less important thoughts, like von Karma's odd behavior or Maya tugging on his coat.

"M-My! Hey! Miles! Kilometers! Little My!"

"H-Hrm?"

Maya pointed to somewhere behind him. "I, um... I think you're in trouble."

Miles turned, and flinched when he found himself nose to nose with a furious prosecutor.

"You," von Karma snarled, "should not be expecting a repeat performance of today! You're lucky I took pity on you! You got that?!"

Her voice raised to a yell as she spoke, and her burning eyes pinned Miles where he stood. He leaned away, but she just leaned forward.

"Don't you dare be expecting a shred of mercy from me from now on! You may be the son of that loathsome excuse of a defense attorney, and the favorite of that voluptuous wretch--"

Now, Miles was not going to sit there and take that. "You should never speak ill of the dead, Miss von Karma," he snapped, straightening his spine and making her flinch away. He met her glare with all the intensity he could muster...

...and then paused.

How curious.

"Wh... What? What is it?" von Karma's hastily plucked brows furrowed as an edge of nervousness worked its way into her voice, and Miles realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Your eyes," he continued hesitantly. They were heterochromatic - one brown, one blue. "They reminded me of someone. An old friend."

von Karma inexplicably blanched. She looked distant for a moment, and her left hand dug into her right side, just below her ribcage. "You... wh..."

Then she shook herself, and that boiling anger was back full force. "Why are you getting all nostalgic on me, you-- ugh! You listen closely, Ed... E-Edge..."

Again, she went pale, looking ill. Miles was starting to worry after her health at this point, despite the fact he was in the middle of being screamed at. "Er..."

"You... you listen closely, Worthless!" She thrusted a finger up towards him, nearly jamming it up his nose with how close she was. "These eyes... you'll see them and know nothing but despair once we meet again, you hear me?! I'm going to crush you, and I'm going to enjoy it!"

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stomped off, seething.

Maya coughed weakly. "Uh. Wow. What was that all about?"

Miles stared after Sascha von Karma, his gut clenching with inexplicable grief. "I have no earthly idea."

⁂

You failed again.

You can't even blame him this time.

This is all your fault.

Victory was within your grasp.

All that matters to a von Karma is perfection.

And yet you gave him an opening.

A von Karma should be swift and merciless.

You're weak. He's gotten into your head. You can't stop thinking about him.

Even his name makes you sick.

Miles Edgeworth...

...

...why does it feel like you're forgetting something?

#ace attorney #roleswap au #turnabout transition #long post #collab writes #collab draws #collab doodles #miles edgeworth #maya fey #mia fey #phoenix wright #dee vasquez #the judge #raymond shields #misgendering #misgendering tw

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unsaidmar · 3 years

Text

WC: 2.5k (long winded girl, I know)

Plot: They share stuff and it changes how they see things. Connection ensues.

CW: Mentions of death, illness, hospitals I guess, violence.

a/n: Hello y’all. This is part two of whatever the fuck is going on inside my pea brain. Hope you enjoy.

Part one, the meeting.

Two; It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

She laughed at the awkwardness of the text and the perfect grammar Dr. Spencer Reid maintained while texting. Ollie made a mental note to care a little more about the phrasing of her own texts, especially considering the circumstances. To say she wanted to impress him was an understatement.

“Good, germs are yucky.” Sent at 7:45 am.

“Also, hi. Good morning” Sent at 7:45 am.

Good morning? Too much too soon? She fell victim to her overthinking for at least twenty minutes after sending her last text, realizing she had to slowly build up the courage to ask about the next time they would be seeing each other, which apparently would have to wait, since Spencer had an inconvenient schedule and could be out of the state in a matter of 20 minutes. Ollie exhaled and stood up from her awful office chair to go and make herself some coffee, hoping to stop her mind from reeling and sending her into her usual never-ending pit of despair and anxiety that came with stepping out of her comfort zone.

A ping echoed in the room and her screen lit up, displaying a text from the one person she had been thinking about. Ollies mother would be crying laughing if she saw the state she was in, positively losing hair over the fact that a cute, smart, witty man was texting her back. A man she had spoken to for the first time not even 24 hours prior.

“I’m a nice person, I’m funny sometimes, I offered him coffee.” She whispered to herself, rationalizing every aspect of their interaction. “That’s how friendships start” She laughed bitterly. “I’m here… freaking… wishful thinking, and maybe he has a significant other… maybe he doesn’t even like women… maybe he just thought I was nice and he thought ‘yay, a new friend’… fuck” she plopped herself back on the chair and threw her head back.

Lia would have known what the right thing to do is, she would come up with a cool thing to text back on the spot, and she resented her absence like she had a million times before. Ollie had gotten used to writing her letters like her best friend was living somewhere else in the world and she would eventually read her friend’s attempt at keeping her updated, which she knew was not healthy and definitely not helping her move on.

The thing is, Lia’s death was not a surprise at all. It was a possibility to the point of actually being expected. She had been diagnosed as a terminal patient for a little over a year before she passed and almost everyone around her had made peace with the fact that she could go any day and that life would have to go on without her, but no amount of grief counseling and encouraging talks with Lia’s family could have prepared her for the unimaginable pain Ollie felt when it happened. She had heard about experiences that made the world turn upside down and how some life events made you go numb and make your legs give weight, but had never come face to face with a happenstance that painful.

She figured she was going to have to carry the burden of her loss till the day she died, and even then, the words “I missed you, till the very end.” would be carved in her grave.

Coming back from her spiral, she remembered how she fell down the rabbit hole in the first place. She took her phone with the intention of texting Spencer back and smiled at how stupid she had been to worry about seeing him again.

“Hey, arrest made successfully. Are you busy right now?” Sent at 7:57 am.

Sighing with relief, Ollie smiled and tried to sound casual with her reply as to not sound like seeing him again was the only thing she had been thinking about.

“I’m the boss, I can un-busy myself. Why? Were you charmed by my Keurig?” Sent at 8:00 am.

Spencer was not the kind to send sassy texts, or any text for that matter. This was completely new to him and he was determined to get it right, so he channeled the Derek Morgan that lived within him and prayed to whatever deity was looking out for him to make him sound cooler than he was feeling.

“I’m a sucker for coffee so, yes.” Sent at 8:05

“I’m a sucker for you, apparently” Ollie nearly screamed at how quickly that came out of her mouth. “Fucking loser, dear God” She shook her head, scolding herself and whatever hamster was in charge of her brain and thought process.

“Mi oficina es tu oficina, then. I’ll be waiting.” Sent at 8:07

Twenty minutes later, he was there, coffee cup in his hands. After what felt like no time at all, they were four coffee cups deep into their conversation and had learned a lot more about each other. Turns out Spencer had a day off after they landed from an away case, he had a thing with germs, his favorite color was purple and his co-workers were more his family than just the people he happened to work with. He liked a bunch of sugar with his coffee and had an eidetic memory that was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He was impressed at how this girl was not what you would expect her to be, every aspect of her seemed to make no sense and at the same time, it made perfect sense. This purple haired girl had ADHD and a PhD in history, she was the oldest daughter of two of the most stubborn Mexican immigrants and had a sister that made even the most patient of humans go mad. She loved music, and was not ashamed to admit that her taste in music was far from sophisticated. “I am Taylor Swift’s bitch; I know the words to every single one of her songs! Same goes for One Direction too” She argued when Spencer said that it couldn’t be that bad.

A blaring ring halted their conversation to an unexpected stop. Ollie picked up the office phone with an annoyed grimace and exchanged a few words with whoever was calling.

“Hold that thought, I have to go sign a thingy at the front desk” She dashed out of her office and left Spencer there.

For the first time, he felt compelled to look around and fixate on the details. There were a few old looking pictures and some newer ones with people who looked a lot like her. There was one picture that caught his attention, isolated from the rest like it deserved a spot of its own. In it, there was a red-haired girl that looked around Ollie’s age, one of her arms around her waist and the other one cradling her head that was laying on her shoulder. Ollie’s eyes were closed and the red head looked like she was caught mid-sentence. Stuck to the frame was a little post it note that read “I love you, head ass. -Lia” It looked intimate, they were clearly comfortable with that kind of physical affection, and if Lia hadn’t called Ollie a head ass in the post it, he would have assumed they were together romantically.

Ollie came back in a hurry, apologizing for having to run out like that and sitting back down to resume their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” Spencer assured her. “I was looking at your pictures, I hope you don’t mind” He said, suddenly very aware of how invasive that could be.

“Not at all, those are there to be looked at” She shrugged, bracing herself for the question she knew was coming. Somehow, talking about Lia with him did not feel as dreadful as it had all those times she was asked about it before, perhaps it’s just him and his calming presence.

Sure enough, he pointed at the picture Lia had framed for valentine’s day and asked, “Who’s that?”.

“That’s Lia, she was my best friend. She is my best friend.” She smiled fondly, something that had never happened before when talking about this specific topic. Maybe sharing Lia’s memory with someone who didn’t know her was different. “She passed away almost a year and a half ago. 468 days ago, to be exact. She was really sick, it was inevitable” Ollie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, reaching for the post it and tracing the words over with her finger.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been”

“It was… heartbreaking. Even with all that time we had to process the news, it still took me off guard.” She shook her head trying to ground herself. “Anyways, that’s a sad topic. I don’t want to bum you out with it.”

He knew the feeling all too well, he had apologized to several people when he rambled about Maeve, feeling like he had said too much and gotten too personal. He was not about to let this beautiful, vibrant soul feel the way he had for so long. Like he still did, truly.

“Don’t apologize, I get it. You’re not making me sad” He felt like he needed to elaborate to actually convey the message. “I went through the same thing with someone I loved too” he said, looking down at his hands, the very familiar feeling of oversharing creeping in. As he looked up, he noticed the sad look Ollie was giving him, but if the profiler in him was right, she was inviting him to share, not to stop.

“Her name was Maeve. She… she was a geneticist. She helped me through a rough time and she became my friend. It’s a long story…” he looked away.

“I want to hear it, long or not. But only if you want me to.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which convinced him to keep going.

“Um, I started getting some headaches a while ago. I went to a few doctors but none of them gave me an answer. I reached out to Maeve for help and… We bonded, I guess.” He took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to continue if you feel uncomfortable” she whispered in the most delicate tone.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never told this story before. Everyone in my life that I care about was there to see it.” He said, meeting her eyes so she could see how honest he was being. The man got a hold of himself for a minute, and continued.

“Maeve had to go into hiding. She was being stalked by some woman she met at work. Beyond talking on the phone, we hadn’t even met. I had no idea what she looked like and vice versa. This girl, the stalker… She wrote a paper, and Maeve dismissed it because it didn’t have a good enough foundation. When she started stalking her, she scared her into hiding and eventually started dating her ex-fiancé to try and get closer to Maeve, assuming he knew where she was. They ended up finding her and confronting her. She shot herself and the first person I ever loved. Right in front of me and my friends. The first five minutes I got with Maeve face to face, were the last.”

Baring his soul to a person he had known for a whooping 18 hours was the weirdest thing Spencer had ever done, so unlike himself it was almost funny. But at the same time, he felt like it had to happen. By no means did he believe in fate or destiny, but this one moment made him feel like maybe whoever does believe in that stuff, is not completely wrong.

She was not a therapist. She listened because she was going through a similar thing herself and her interest in Spencer’s loss was not rooted in psychoanalyzing him and helping him cope. She was just a mundane human that did not look at him with condescension and pity, she looked at him like she, too, had found a person who wouldn’t ask her “And, how does that make you feel?” in a monotonous voice. They both knew better than to assume they had all the answers.

“Spencer, that’s horrible. I am so sorry you had to see that. Jesus, fuck. I- “She thought about her next words very carefully. “That’s enough to crush anyone’s spirit” She looked at him like he was turning green. The reason being, he did not look like he was crushed. He had a beautiful smile that shook Ollie to her core, he was easygoing and conversation with him was carefree and it flowed easily. If he had not told her about Maeve, she would not have guessed the man sitting right in front of her was as affected as her.

“How did you manage to get through that?” Ollie questioned, fully intending to take notes.

“I don’t really think I have yet…” Well, time to come clean. Spencer thought. “The whole reason I was here yesterday, and a lot more times before that one, is because she and I talked about this museum. She told me about some conferences she had attended here and we made plans to visit together. Doesn’t quite sound like someone who’s over the whole thing.” He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly too aware of how cold it was. “How did you get through Lia’s death?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’m quite there either. Not like I’m trying, anyways. I can’t seem to get away from the Grey Roots either” Mental images of two little kids running around with dusty books in their hands came to her and she couldn’t help the small smile she broke into.

“I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I have always thought that the way Lia and I found each other was pure magic. We met when we were in the second grade, right in this museum, we were on a field trip and we clicked. It was crazy to me that I actually met my best friend at such a young age, and the kind that lasts forever too. It sounds like when people meet the love of their lives on their first try. It sounds dorky, I know”

“It doesn’t. If anything, it sounds like you consider yourself lucky to have loved her like you did. We need more people like that, people that believe in magic.” Spencer reassured her with a shrug. He wished he could believe in cute stuff like that, but he was happy Ollie led a life that made her believe.

“Yeah, but us crazy people, we get our hopes up too easily. Sometimes it hurts.”

“Tell me about it.”

And just like that, in the not so well-lit office of the head Conservator of the Grey Roots Museum and Archive, something in the world had shifted.

#spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x latina reader #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #bau #fluff #spencer reid headcanon

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Trials and Tributes (2/5)

Summary:

"There were witches who lived among them. Or so that's what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she'd be one of them."

Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Notes: This is an early posting. The posting period is from January 3-10 so I timed the chapters in a way that the story will be complete by the time the posting period starts. I planned on waiting a bit later but I’m expecting life to get a little busy from January 4-10 since I’ll be going back to work and moving houses so I decided to get this done and posted now while there’s still time. Either way I hope you enjoy!

“When there’s no moon in the sky, please don’t visit my cabin.”

“Why?”

“One day, I promise I’ll tell you.”

And that one day never did come. She never did tell him.

As Levi watched the court proceedings, he couldn’t help but think that maybe she would never be able to keep that promise of telling him herself. The trial would pull the answers out of her, the bishop in charge of interrogation in front of the high court would twist into something more digestible for the public, the crowds that filled the large trial room.

Although Levi had a seat near the front of the room. The acoustics of the room and the murmurs around him made it difficult to hear Hange's voice from where he stood.

“Hange Zoe, youngest daughter of the Baron Zoe. Or at least, that was what we had tortured out of our late baron.”

If Levi had not been trained in the art of keeping calm at the thought of blood, he probably would have had to stifle a wince. He was present when the whole Zoe family was brought in for interrogation only a few days ago. They were quickly deemed traitors, accomplices to the witches, tortured then put to death.

But Hange hadn’t even been proven a witch yet. Levi was sure there were at least political motivations in that impulsive decision to put the family to death. He had stumbled upon some hearsay that within a few days of their capture, a new noble family moved into their manor. The capture of Hange was only the nail on the coffin. A fair catalyst to a usurpation of power. A motivation that Levi almost found valid, but not at all anything worth admiring.

“It turned out Baron Zoe had been hiding a witch in his family. Why he had decided to take one in? Or how he had he raised her to become a servant to the devil. We do not know.”

I swear! She’s my daughter! And she’s not a witch! He had sworn that until his death. That was what Levi witnessed at least as he forced himself to watch the tortures and executions done in private. Human executions were too grand and expensive of a festivity. Of course they would save their budget for the youngest adopted daughter who was suspected of witchcraft.

Levi did not think she was adopted though. He had seen those hazel eyes enough times. Her father’s were the exact same shape as hers, the nose curled the same way. If Hange really was a witch, then maybe the witches from a young age were powerful enough to take whatever appearance pleases them. Or maybe she had sworn allegiance to the devil years after.

Or that was what they were discussing as Levi pondered it. To a degree, Levi could not help but doubt even his own assumptions. If witches were that powerful, why did all of them so easily die when they were burnt at stake. Why did so many of them drown as they were thrown into the sea?

“According to the results of the interrogation, Hange Zoe disappeared at the age of eight, right after she got involved in the murder of a child her age.”

There were loud murmurs coming from the crowds behind him, a few gasps. A murder at the age of eight?

“We thought a witch had kidnapped her then. It might just have been an awakening of her powers since soon after she disappeared, the plague happened. Many children lost parents, many parents have lost kids but isn’t it weird that the Zoe family didn’t lose anyone but their murderous child who turned out to be alive decades after? Coincidence? I think not.”

Despite identifying as one of the kids who had lost their parents during the plague in question, Levi strangly found himself coming up with an argument against that accusation. The Zoe family was rich. They lived in a ten hectare parcel of land, a fifteen minute carriage ride to the main square. They had servants to go shopping for them and access to the best doctors. Of course they wouldn’t have experienced as many losses as the common people. It applied to any noble family . Levi only had to look at Erwin next to him to guess that he was probably thinking the same thing.

They called a witness to the stand. Levi quickly refocused his eyes to the center of the room when the crowd went silent, watching a burly man make his way to the table designated for witnesses.

He was introduced as a pub owner and praised for taking the long trip to the capital to tell his story. The praises and exaltations only continued from there. “This man over here had the courage to step forward and report the witch who had been hiding in their small town.” The bishop announced as the pub owner slowly made his way to the stand.

Courage? That was definitely not the right word.The man did not look at all terrified to be on the witness stand. In fact, he had looked proud. His dinner jacket and his coat were luxuries that were completely non existent in the small town he had come from. Levi couldn't help but suspect bribery was involved.

He allowed himself a glance at Hange. Hange was looking at the man on the witness stand, her face a mixture of confusion, recognition and something else. That something else on her face only made his stomach twist tighter into a knot.

With the abundance of stimuli to take in as the courtroom exploded into murmurs, Levi only found it more difficult to comprehend that nagging feeling in his stomach. He turned to the witness, leaving to them the responsibility of giving him the answers he needed.

“More than a decade ago, an apothecary opened up in a cabin in the woods, a thirty minute walk from the center of town. Despite its humble beginnings, it amassed quite a reputation. Soon everyone in town knew about the doctor who can cure any illness. Even townspeople from the neighboring towns would make the journey to her clinic for healing."

“And you were one of them?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I had no choice your Grace, there was a disease going around the village which caused watery stool. I had gone to other doctors first but none of them were able to cure it or trace the cause. I’m sure you would understand a father’s love for their son, being so close to the Lord our Father yourself.”

“A father’s love for the son cannot be quantified. I understand the desperation which may have caused you to dabble into witchcraft. Your sins and the sins of the townspeople are pardoned. You mustered up the courage to turn her in after all.”

The man nodded gratefully. “When I arrived in the small cabin in the woods, I recognized that voice and those eyes almost instantly. The way she spoke, you only see that confidence among the nobility and those eyes… Those were the hazel eyes of a Zoe. But the Zoes lived on their own land far from the woods. I only had to take a closer look though to realize that she was the missing Zoe. The murderer who killed poor Tommy more than a decade ago.”

A chunk of the room gasped.

Of course, put a name on the victim and suddenly everybody sympathizes. Was the name of the victim even Tommy? Levi had heard enough hearsay wandering around town to know it probably wasn’t Tommy. He looked to Hange to see her face was unreadable with maybe a hint of confusion and as Levi looked a little closer, he finally figured out what it was.

Betrayal.

“Didn’t she cure your son?” The bishop asked as he read through what could have been records, maybe from interviews from others around the town.

“She did cure my son. And she was able to diagnose the disease and trace the cause to one of the wells in town. It turned out he had an unfortunate case of er… dysentery.”

“There were numerous cases of dysentery around your hometown only recently apparently.” The bishop continued. “And it was traced to the well in the middle of the square. It was Hange who reported it to the officials.”

“Definitely an attempt to wash her own hands of sins and to gain the goodwill of the people, good sir. To a lot of people in the town, she was a miracle worker but mind you, with that level of skill with medicine, chemicals and diseases, she can’t be human. How do we know she didn’t start the plague for her own selfish reasons? Only the one who started it could have known it came from the well.”

Because she isn’t selfish. Levi just knew. In fact, he was sure she would have done all that out of the goodness of her heart.

Levi only ended up questioning his memories of Hange as the crowd exploded into boos and jeers all directed at the brunette in the middle of the room. The latter had bowed her head and Levi was left having to imagine what she might have felt at that moment.

The crowd mentality was apparent among those in the room. Others were starting to pelt things at Hange, pieces of trash and stone. Levi couldn’t help but be grateful for the guard that had quickly escorted her out of the room when some of the trash started to meet their target.

“I smell politics,” Erwin commented.

Levi felt a wave of relief come through him with Erwin’s words. The crowds had only made him question his own memories and his own emotions. Was he supposed to be as angry or as terrified as them? He never had been towards any of the witches. The emotions he had felt towards Hange, definitely influenced by their history together resonated much stronger and were fighting for more control than Levi would have wanted to give.

At that moment, when Erwin, the one person in the army he trusted and looked up to, validated his problematic thoughts, Levi was quick to let it consume him further.

Just like with the many witches he had interrogated, Levi somehow knew they were just as much of a victim as everyone else.

Maybe Hange was just another victim.

Trials and Tributes

Levi took a sip of the tea she had served him. The herbs were fresh from the herb garden she kept.

She had a way of mixing the leaves to make the aroma linger on his nose. The tea she served varied depending on what was blooming, what was in season. She always picked the strongest herbs with consequently the most distinct aromas. Even the smallest sip, had his whole mouth exploding in aromas of what could have been fruits or flowers. Her skill with mixing had made him sharper when it came to tastes and scents and Levi was sure he would only be enjoying more tea in the years to come.

“What are your plans?” Levi asked, an attempt at conversation. Hange had been oddly quiet since he started to express his interest in army recruitment.

Hange shook her head. “No plans. I don’t know how long I’m gonna have to stay here.”

“Fine, but if you could leave. What would you do first?”

Hange played with the mug on her hand. A small smile creeped up her lips. As Levi looked closely though, he could see her eyes were far from smiling. It was a look of pained yearning. Why can’t you go out? He had asked that so many times before only for her to digress.

She shrugged. “I wanna see more people… Meet new people, make friends, learn from them.”

“Maybe you can start with the townspeople?” Levi said. She had mentioned before, she never went to the town, for reasons.

“Maybe when things calm down, I’ll start an apothecary," Hange said. "You know, working with you has made me realize something.”

“What?”

“Maybe I can help people and I think that’s what I want to do.”

Trials and Tributes

“What happened when you were eight years old?”

Levi did not waste any time as he entered the room. He was relieved to see that none of the trash had hit her hard enough to wound her. She was unharmed, save for a few scratches.

“I never did tell you huh?”

Levi had hoped that she would deny it. All he saw in her eyes though was a brief realization at that particular omission. Was she really a murderer? A witch?

“We’ve known each other for years but you never told me anything about your childhood.”

“I thought you’d come back and I thought maybe I could tell you then when it was all over.” Hange smiled. Her look was accusing and Levi could tell what she had wanted to say just by her eyes. Maybe if you came back you’d know.

“We’re here already. Just tell me. What happened?”

Hange shrugged. “After I ‘murdered’ him?” She had put a little more emphasis into the word ‘murdered’ than what was necessary, her tone almost mocking. That was the word many of the people in the trial had used though. The circumstances of how the boy had died were left out of the records and only left a little more suspicious. “I started living in a cabin in the woods and then I met you.”

“Your full name is Hange Zoe?”

“My father is Baron Zoe.”

“I would expect your parents would have been rich enough to cover for the murder of a peasant child.”

“The circumstances of his death were strange. Strange enough that the townspeople had come together to organize a witch hunt. My parents had me live in a small cabin in the woods and forbade me from seeing anyone else at least until the hysteria ended. It was lonely but they did visit once a month to bring food… They’d sneak in when the nights were at their darkest…”

“When there’s no moon in the sky, please don’t visit my cabin.”

“Why?”

“One day, I promise I’ll tell you.”

Hange had started to ramble from there yet Levi’s thoughts were still a few steps behind. “What were the circumstances of the boy’s death?” He asked.

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I never saw the body and no one told me about it.”

Trials and Tributes

“But what happened to make them think you did it?”

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.” Teddy was already on his knees in embarrassment. “It was an accident!”

“Yeah but my mom’s gonna give me a beating when she finds out I soiled my shoe. Maybe you should have watched where you were going!”

Hange winced as she watched Tobias kick the small boy in the stomach. “Can we go back to playing pirates now? You can just clean it yourself when you get home!” She had known for a long time that Tobias was a warmonger and had done her best since they first met to keep conflict at the minimum.

“What do you know Zoe? You have servants to wipe it off for you!”

“Well, what if I bring it home and have it washed for you?” Hange suggested. Tobias' eyes had seemed a little wild and it did nothing to placate the foreboding feeling that tickled her chest. She had to find a way to pacify him fast.

“No. I want him to pay.”

“He already apologized.”

“I don’t accept words. I want actions.” Tobias said as he moved his foot a little closer to Teddy’s face. The latter was doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. Hange couldn’t even tell if he was still conscious.

That was until Tobias gave him a light kick on the face. “Clean it.”

Teddy opened his eyes weakly and looked up at the owner of the shoe. “I’ll bring it to the nearby river now.” He had brought out his hand to remove the shoe from Tobias’ foot.

“No. Clean it with your mouth.”

“Tobi. Stop!.” Hange screamed. A second later, she found herself looking back to see that the other boys were silent. For a few seconds she had wondered if she should stay silent too. Was that the right thing to do?

That few seconds were more than enough though for Tobias to goad Teddy into sticking his tongue out and licking the soiled portion of his shoe.

“Stop it!” Hange was only started to panic more, her heart started to beat wilder as she watched Tobias push the sole of his foot into Teddy’s face.

“I…kan...gtttt.” I can’t breathe.

Hange comprehended more than enough of the situation. “You’re killing him!” She looked back at the other boys who only stood by unmoving. WIthin seconds, Teddy had stopped struggling and Hange was only starting to realize that someone had to move or someone was going to die.

A bunch of cowards. She muttered one ugly word at the boys behind her before she launched herself at Tobias.

His surprised face was priceless. Having been too preoccupied by it, Hange did not notice what was going on until it was too late.

It could have been anger or fear that had spurred her on. But alas, she had used too much of her strength. She had launched into the air, the two boys beneath her. She was flying from the dirt trodden path where they were playing their game of pirates only a second ago and into the grassy fields next to it.

A split second later Hange’s head was spinning as the impact of the fall shook her body.

She had little time though to process that though. Soon after the impact came a bloodcurdling scream.

Trials and Tributes

“A Bible Test?” Levi did not need to ask what it was. In fact, that wasn’t the question running through his head when the clergy had informed him of their next plan of action for Hange. He had to keep a straight face as they explained it, having decided for himself so long ago how incredibly archaic and maybe even pointless that test was.

The priest nodded. “Yes. The Bible Test,” he said so confidently that Levi was relieved he had concealed the judgement in his face so well.

“But isn’t a little too…”

The priest continued to look at him expectantly.

Archaic? Prone to error? “Flawed…” Levi managed to say. “I mean she is an important prisoner to you.”

“Yes she will be going through other tests as well. We just want to make sure of everything. ” The priest had said the word everything with so much emphasis that Levi almost believed that they were actually messengers of the god they so enthusiastically preached about despite their numerous vices.

“So when will it be?” Levi asked.

“As soon as possible.”

‘As soon as possible’ came that evening, a few hours after the priest had called him to the office to discuss the next plan of action of the trials of Hange. It was a small ceremony with only a few priests to witness the event. Levi couldn’t help but note that it was more important then to keep a straight face with multiple pairs of clergy eyes eyeing him and the prisoner next to him.

Hange was next to him at that moment though as he scanned the faces of the clergy members all lined up on their seats in front of him. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved though since their eyes were all trained on Hange.

One of the guards guided Hange into one of the platforms of that large contraption that took up a huge chunk of the room. It wasn’t at all unfamiliar. Levi had seen the bible test in action so many times before.

If the Accused were weighed in Scales against a Bible, the Bible would prove too heavy for them . Therefore, being lighter than the bible would prove that they were guilty.

Or so, that’s what they had explained to him. Levi though had secretly tried that on himself a year ago, a way to cope with the guilt of silently watching a small woman receive a death sentence after she had weighed less than the largest bible in their library.

Levi had turned out to be much lighter than that bible he had tested with then. Unless I am a witch? It was a casual thought he allowed himself as he watched multiple servants haul a much larger bible into the room. The bible they carried might have even been twice the size of what Levi had weighed himself with years ago. He couldn’t help but think, the clergy had fixed the results of that test already.

Hange looked a little confused as well as she watched the bible be hauled into the room in some sort of wagon.

Had no one explained to her what would happen? Levi had not time himself having had to deal with paperwork before the trial. When he did meet her in the trial room, all eyes were on Hange though and there was no time to discuss anything between themselves.

The bishop rose to his feet as soon as the wagon was pushed to a halt next to the platform opposite Hange.

“A servant of the devil should not be able to take the weight of God’s words...”

Blah blah blah. Levi had heard that same speech before. His eyes were on Hange though who had started to grip more tightly the ropes that connected the platform to the beam on top of the weighing scale. She had started to understand as well what they were planning on doing.

Through experience, Levi knew already that no person they had ever put on trial could ever be prepared enough for that moment when the large bible is dropped on the platform opposite them. Hange was no exception. Although there was the determination in her eyes and maybe the defiance at the system that made that trial possible, it was quick to be replaced by surprise and maybe fear as she faltered when the scale rose and rocked beneath her. She was only held together by the ropes she had held on to so tightly.

“So it looks like she is a witch.” One of the clergymen said, looking too satisfied with the conclusion.

The clergymen converged in their seats and from where he stood, Levi could make out some of their conversation.

Pricking Tests. Swimming Tests. Ducking Stools. Burning at Stake.

He had seen them more than enough times to picture how they would go about so accurately. Just imagining Hange’s face in the stead of the many others that had gone before her only made Levi’s stomach turn. He was sure he wouldn’t want to watch Hange go through that.

“Just a suggestion, your grace,” Levi said as he closed in on their congregation. “Since we’re already here and we have a bible in front of us, would it be possible for us to try the prayer test?”

Trials and Tributes

Hange liked reading. When she wasn’t talking to him, she was usually focused on her experiments or a good book. Levi had let her be more often than not, having seen the way she made the goofiest smiles or the most crestfallen faces as she stared at pieces of paper. It was entertaining enough at least.

“Hey, why are you smiling?” Levi asked. Her smile at that moment was a little wider than usual and her face softened as her eyes followed the words on the page.

“I was smiling?” The smile quickly disappeared as Hange looked up from her book, replaced by a look of astonishment and maybe confusion.

“You sometimes smile when you read.” Levi commented.

“Well, there’s not much to do here. I don’t meet a lot of people, can’t go out so I guess i just get a little too invested in reading.” Hange explained, looking apologetic.

“I think it’s okay to smile,” Levi said, hoping that would be enough for Hange to relax. She had looked too tense since she looked up from her book. She continued to stare expectantly at him though.

“What line were you just reading?” Levi asked, an attempt to get her to relax and look back at her book.

“It’s from Canterbury Tales.”

Levi sat next to her and scooted near enough to have a good view of the line Hange was pointing at.

For Goddes love, taak al in pacience

Oure prisoun, for it may noon oother be;

Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee.

Som wikke aspect or disposicioun

Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun

Hath yeven us this, al though we hadde it sworn;

So stood the hevene, whan that we were born.

We moste endure it, this the short and playn.'

Hange started to read it aloud soon after.

“For a goddess’ love, talk all in patience

Our prison, for it may no one other be;

Fortune has given us this adversity.

Some weak aspect or disposition.

Of Saturne, by some constellation

Has given us this, although we had it sworn;

So stood the heaven, when that we were born.

We must endure it, this, the short and playing.”

Trials and Tributes

Levi had heard her read aloud many times before. He was sure it was at least going to be a more accurate test than the bible test they had put her through just a second ago.

The accused will be made to recite the “Lord’s Prayer” without error – this included any stumbling, stammering, or outright spasming. As elocution is a painstaking art, it seems that any average human would slip up, but under “God’s eyes” mistakes are unacceptable.

Every single person he had watched who had taken the test had failed. It was just too easy to slip up with too many eyes boring down at you. When that one recitation could determine life and death, Levi had seen many of the accused witches go crazy on the spot, even before they could finish. He knew though, Hange was different. Hange never stuttered when she read, even when she had on the largest smile or the longest face. He had made her read aloud many times to know.

She was guided to a table and the bible was placed in front of her.

“Matthew Chapter 6, Verse 9-13,” the bishop ordered.

The servants carefully flipped through the pages of the old bible while Hange watched. Levi felt his heart race as he followed her eyes as they scanned the pages of the bible. Hange put her finger on one line and spoke:

“After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And bring us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.”

And forgive us our trespasses..

And bring us not into temptation.

Levi listened closely to those parts in particular knowing the most common errors were made there. He had peeked at the congregation as those parts came up to see that the bishop had bent forward from his seat as if he too was focusing on Hange’s words.

She did beautifully and Levi was almost mesmerized to see the way she had read it aloud. She had timed the rests well, breezed through the words when she needed to. For a second, Levi could even imagine he was once again in the cabin, listening to her recount the words of Chaucer and the story of the knight.

“For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Trespasses. A word so easily to stumble on but Hange had glided through those words as smoothly and as quickly as water striders on a shallow pond.

Hange went silent after the last word, looking at the clergymen expectantly then at Levi.

She isn’t a witch. Levi nodded in return, willing himself not to return the subtle smile she had given him. His heart only clenched though as she dropped the smile.

I’ll smile later. When it’s just the two of us. He had hoped she at least got that message when he raised his eyebrows at her. With the way her hands shook from their place on top of the open bible, Levi was sure she didn’t.

Or maybe she saw something else Levi could not see from his angle.

He turned a little to the side, moving closer to Hange. From that angle at least he saw the serious face of the bishop, and the way the bishop had raised an eyebrow at her, as if he were studying a fattened cow and picking the best place to slice it.

“Too perfect. It was a trick of the Devil," the bishop concluded.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #fanfiction

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akahana · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER 2

That was a damn workout. The club was divided into half for the second meeting. You girls had decided to learn a choreography by the Korean girl group; Twice, namely the choreo of I Can’t Stop Me. The boys decided to dance Stray Kids’ God’s Menu. They were pretty good. Except for Aoyama who pretty much made up his own steps. He said he wanted to stand out no matter what. And he had just joined recently.

“Everybody, on the next Friday, I’ll be teaching the choreo that will be done by partner. Club session over!”

“Wait- Mina what?”

She faced you. “Oh, girlie I remember I paired you with Katsuki right?”

“Yeah, but can’t we be partners?” You asked.

“No can do,” She waved her head. “I’m sorry, but the two of us are already close. And we do this partner thing to get the members of the club together. This is how I made our circle of friends.” She added with a grin.

Lastly she said; “Plus I need you and Bakugo to hang-out so you could fix your constant bickering. You always fight with each other. May it be in the classroom, the hallway...You can can bicker about anything; anywhere! You never run out of topics to bicker about! Anyway, I have to meet Momo now- she’d been calling me for the past hour, BYE!!!” And she fled to who knows where.

You sighed. You’d have to deal with the freak with the anger issues more.

The weekend came over fast, the weekdays passed by faster, ‘til it was Friday again. It’s the Friday wherein Mina teaches the partner dance.

Aizawa had to consume 20 mins of your time before you could finally get to club meeting. You texted Mina in advance. After the talk with Aizawa regarding your quirk, you arrive at the meeting 20 mins late as expected. When you opened the door, everybody was with their partner, except for Bakugo who stood up from his seat when he saw you. He kept his frown on while he dragged you to an open space to start as Mina repeated Corazon Sin Cara for another round of practice.

You were clueless about why he had dragged you there, since you didn’t know the steps yet.

“Just follow my lead.” He stated, positioning you into how Mina was positioned with her partner Kirishima, then you hear the Bachata music play.

He did not touch your torso with his hands, but he showed you how you were supposed to move your hips. He placed his thigh between your legs as your hips moved. You felt heat rush up to your face. No one had ever been close to you like that. Not a male, to say the least. You felt awkward and stepped back a little, earning yourself a questioning look on his face. But he respected the space you have created between you.

Although he was a good dancer, he definitely was NOT a good teacher. You evidently pissed him off which in return annoyed annoyed the hell out of you because of how ill-tempered he was with teaching.

“I told you to go this way!!!” he yelled.

“Then this way I shall go!” You mocked.

He got fed of how sarcastic you were and you got completely pissed off by how he always raised his voice at you.

You decided you were ready to leave. But he decided he wanted to leave as well. You clashed at the door, fighting over who should be the first one to go through the door. No one won eventually. You both fit through the door at the same time. You went to the direction of where the dorms were headed, and he followed.

“Stop following me you prick!” You shouted at him as your pace went quicker.

“I’m not following you stupid!” He growled as he ran to the dorm.

And since you also were as childish and competitive as him, you raced with him to the dorms.

The next 6 days passed by, and it was Friday once again. You tried to dance. You forced yourself, you weren’t like this during practice. You usually were enthusiastic during club meetings. You didn’t know the reason behind your fatigue. Maybe because of the lack of sleep caused by the overnight studying for the exams? Extra training hours with you class adviser? Playing sports with your new friends Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Ojiro?

They were all factors, but you didn’t exactly know which of them caused you to be like this. Bakugo noticed your state.

Practice finally ended. You sat down the floor drinking water and leaned against the cold wall behind you. You closed your eyes for a short while, but hadn’t you known you were slowly drifting off to sleep.

The clock showed the digits “7:00”.

You had finally woken up. That was when you noticed a familiar song playing on the speakers. It was Pony by Ginuwine. You scratched your eyes and tried to unblurry your vision. Then you looked up to the familiar figure in front of you doing isolation moves. You realized he was dancing the pony dance from Magic Mike. You were surprised to see him dance like this. This dance style was pg-18. When danced by normies or non-dancers, this dance would look funny. But he made it look good. He got every step right, each move landing on each beat precisely. You were blown away. For the first time, you noticed how hot he was. Most especially since he was wearing his infamous black tank top.

Bakugo was passionate when it came to dancing. You saw that as you watched him move. You tried to keep as quiet as you can, for him not to notice you. You saw him do a few body rolls, hip thrusts, before the song had finally ended. Then he met your eyes through the mirror in front of him. You thought you saw him blush for a while, but when you blinked for a sec, it was gone.

“Sleeping stupid has finally awoken. Get your ass up here. You wasted three hours of my time. We have to polish our dance. I don’t want to lose to Kirishima.” He called you that every time you awoken from a nap. It was supposed to be sleeping beauty, but he changed the latter word thinking he’s funny. And lose to Kirishima? Everything really is a competition for this chonky-haired asshole.

Ashamed, you stood up. And finally, you were feeling okay. No more dizziness.

Then you noticed that it was the only two of you that remained in the club room.

“Where are the others?” you asked.

“At the dorms already.” He snarled. “If you hadn’t slept and wasted our time then we would’ve been at the dorms right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking him aback. It was the first time you’ve said that to him. You always bickered, but you’ve never said sorry to him afterwards. You were quite vulnerable today.

You walked to his spot, positioned yourself, maintaining the distance you’ve created like you always did every single time you practiced this partner dance routine. But this time, he didn’t tolerate it. He groaned while he pulled you closer to him. You were a little shocked, as this was the first time he touched your hips. Held, as a matter of fact. He trained how your hips were supposed to move to the beat. He literally said: ‘Fuck consent’. Mad man. His teaching skills had improved. And he didn’t shout at you anymore. Maybe because he finally got tired of messing with you.

You two stopped when you were both tired and worn out. (ooh~) You finally were able to dance to the rhythm accordingly. He was about to exit the door when you called out his nickname.

“Kacchan!” He stopped. It was the first time you called him that.

You too, were taken aback. You expected him to throw a tantrum and go on a rampage and shout to you about how you should stay in your lane. But he didn’t. He only answered calmly with a;

“What.”

Little did you know, the ash blonde liked it very much when that nickname of his came out of your mouth. He didn’t know why. He just fancied it.

“I-I, can’t walk alone in the dark...” You muttered softly, almost inaudible.

“And why the fuck? What do you want me to do then, carry you?”

You thought at this time of the day- or night, perhaps, he would already be tamed and be too tired to snarl back comments.

But no, ‘This blonde’s pride and ego will never wear out.’ You thought to yourself. You mustered your courage, told yourself to be brave, and hissed at him before facing towards the direction of the dorm and walking that path.

“Fine then! I hope you get taken away by some villain or whatever and just disappear! Why do you have to be so mean at all times?” The throbbing head pain came back to you, and along came the mild dizziness.

“Ugh, as if.” He retorted back even though he felt guilt wash over him.

The guy just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Bakugo waited for you to get a little farther, before he walked behind you, lighting up a few sparks from his hand to keep your little friends sane. You had a quirk similar to Tokoyami. Differences were; what you had were wolves, and they have the ability to detach from you. If you didn’t have enough power, they would refuse to listen to you, and they could go haywire, damaging your environment including you also. They actively bugged you during the night, whenever moonlight shone on your skin they would sense it and you’d hear them howling in your head pleading for freedom. But because of Bakugo behind you, which you were oblivious of, their howling aren’t as bad as usual. How was Bakugo aware of all this? He had been observing you since you’ve beat him at the UA sports festival.

Then you tripped. Face first on the ground. Suddenly you heard a burst of laughter.

“HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WTF HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW TO WALK?!! HAHAHAHAHHAHA”

“SHUT IT YOU DUMB FUCK YOU LOOK LIKE A MONKEY LAUGHING LIKE THAT” you went loose. Maybe you went a little too far. Uh-oh. He stopped. You knew you were in trouble. You got up and tried to run for your dear life but you suddenly fell down again. And another burst of laughter was heard. This time you had no more power to lash out on him and you cried. You were so tired of that day, and your head throbbed endlessly, plus the fact that your knees are now bleeding because of scraping them on the pavement twice.

The blonde freak’s laughter went to a halt and ran to you. He saw your knees and he quickly wrapped his handkerchief on the left. He wrapped the tank top he got from his bag around the right one. Then he put his bag in front of him and pulled you up on his back. Tears had stopped flowing from your eyes, and suddenly, your stomach was contaminated with butterflies. You did not complain, you remained silent as his feet continued to walk toward the dorms.

*after an almost not-so-awkward-walk in silence

He let you get down from his back. You already were at the building. You wouldn’t admit it to yourself but you wished the walk had been longer.

“Clean yourself up.” He said before he left you outside. The girls from your class approached you with worried expressions on their faces. They talked to you and interrogated you, then led you inside to help you get ready for bed.

https://llcantra-blog.tumblr.com/post/637767778054602753/chapter-3

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #.

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

chengqing au idea: Before the Wens died at Jinlintai, Wen Qing gave A-Yuan to Jiang Cheng. This action had its consequences.

Wen Qing led her clan for exactly a day and a half, from the early dawn they departed from Burial Mount to the dusk of the next day when they arrived at Jinlintai. Even in the beginning, as she took her first step away from Wei Wuxian, from the man who had given up everything to protect them, she knew it was to their deaths.

Too many had died, too many will die still. She was taught her whole life that when it was impossible to save, first do no harm. Yet, her existence alone had become a sin, a burden onto others. Jin Zixuan was dead, his young wife a widow, his infant son fatherless.

Wen Qing held A-Yuan on her hip, walking at the front of her clan’s death parade. Wei Wuxian would not awaken for some time yet. The child was too young to be left alone in a place like the Burial Mount. There was a buddhist temple on their way to Lanling, not far west from Yiling. She had plans to leave him there with the zhu’chi. A letter was already drafted and tucked safely in the child’s robes along with the remainder of what little money they had made selling produce. Buddhist monks were known for their charity and detachment from worldly longings, but Wen Qing knew that a little donation went a long way, especially for a child bearing a past like theirs.

Everything was planned. If their deaths meant Wei Wuxian could finally find peace, then so be it... And yet, fate would have it otherwise.

At the foot of Mt. Yiling, a familiar figure in violet robes marched towards them. Wen Qing did not think after she had returned him the dark mahogany comb that she would ever see Jiang Wanyin again in this life.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, brows furrowed. Had he come to seek revenge on behalf of his widowed sister? But no, he came alone without his men. He must’ve heard what happened by now. Perhaps...

“Where are you going?” He only asked in response.

Jiang Cheng glanced at the throng of old men and women behind Wen Qing, and then at Wen Ning with his head bowed in shame at her side. Zidian crackled as his fist tightened around Sandu’s sheath. “You’re turning yourselves in? Wei Wuxian agreed to this?!”

She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t know. I left him unconscious back at the Burial Mount. Why have you come?”

“I came to -” Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth, a red flush beginning to overtake his face. “I came to check on him, for my sister. The Jins said he made your brother,” he cast a glare at Wen Ning, “kill Jin Zixun and Jin Zixuan. Is this true?”

Ah, so he was here on Jiang Yanli’s behest. She truly was a saintly woman; even now, her conviction in her foster brother’s innocence never wavered.

Wen Qing felt she had no more energy left to lie or fight him. These were her last days, and she ought to live it honestly. “It is. We’re not sure what exactly happened. They seemed to have lost control. Wei Wuxian...he is your brother; whatever happened, it was because of us. Now it’s time for us to go. Lanling asked for the Wens to submit before the law, they didn’t ask for him. If there’s a chance for him at all, Jiang Wanyin, take your brother home.”

At her words, Jiang Cheng’s frown twisted into an angry scowl, “You think he would come back to Lotus Pier after you die? If he learned that you -”

“Then what? What other road is there for us to take?! Which clan will accept us?! Yours?! ” Wen Qing did not mean to raise her voice, but she did anyway. Disturbed from his sleep, A-Yuan whimpered unhappily against her shoulder. She tightened her hold on him and smoothed a hand down his back. “Shhh, it’s okay A-Yuan.”

Jiang Cheng finally allowed himself to look at the boy. His voice was without heat when he spoke again. “What about him? Is he to submit before the law too?”

Wen Qing stared up at the man who in another less unforgiving life might’ve meant something entirely different to her. Theirs was a hopeless path. Whatever spark of 'maybe’ that might have existed was extinguished the day soldiers of the Wen Clan pillaged Lotus Pier and murdered his parents, and was rendered entirely impossible when she cut open his brother and transferred his golden core to him. Wei Wuxian may think of it as fulfilling his duty, but to do this to Jiang Cheng without his knowledge and consent, even if it was to save his life, meant that Wen Qing had broken the sacred oaths she took as a physician. But what was done could not be undone, so this secret, this transgression, she and A-Ning would just have to take to their graves.

For all Jiang Wanyin could never do for her, Wen Qing could not deny that she understood him, and knew deep down that he was a good man. For Yunmeng’s sake, he couldn’t help her. His sect, his responsibilities, came first, and she could not fault him for it. After all she was much the same.

But...

“Jiang Wanyin, at Nevernight, you said if I ever needed anything, I could come to you. I returned your comb, but if the offer still stands, I have but one thing to ask. Not for myself.” Wen Qing turned so Jiang Cheng could see the little face that was pressed into her neck. She stared him straight in the eyes. “Will you take him?”

Jiang Cheng stared back at her for a long, long time. The silence that hung between them was dense and heavy with all the ‘couldn’t, ‘wouldn’t’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ that eroded away their youthful dreams and made their life what it was. Finally, when Wen Qing had all but given up, Jiang Cheng raised a hand and placed it on A-Yuan’s back.

“What’s the boy’s name?”

Wen Qing let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Today, it’s Wen Yuan. Tomorrow, it can be whatever you want it to be. Keep him safe. It’s all I ask.”

The only children Jiang Cheng ever held before this moment was his nephew Jin Ling, and only for less than a minute before Jin Zixuan ushered him aside to take his place. Nevertheless, his grip as Wen Qing passed A-Yuan to him was gentle and firm.

Her worst worry alleviated, Wen Qing lowered her eyes. There was no good in goodbyes, so she merely said what was necessary. “Thank you.”

He said nothing.

Taking A-Ning’s hand, Wen Qing walked away.

“Wen Qing!” Jiang Cheng called out her name, the first, last, and only time. Was he really going to just stand there at the foot of Mt Yiling and watch her walk towards her death? Was this really the kind of man he was? The heroes in the stories would not have chosen as he had chosen. Wei Wuxian would not have chosen as he had chosen.

But Jiang Cheng was not Wei Wuxian. He was not a hero. He was just a man.

“I can’t help you. I can’t.”

He did not apologize, but Wen Qing’s smile across the dusty winding road was forgiving.

“I know. I know.”

Jiang Cheng stood rooted to the earth beneath him as Wen Qing's figure disappeared slowly into the mountain fog.

Jiang Cheng held A-Yuan tight.

And if Jiang Cheng cried, well...no one has to know.

All of Yunmeng knows Sect Master Jiang returned one day with a boy from nowhere. When the bravest Jiang disciple finally mustered up the courage to ask him who the child was, all they got in answer was a curt ‘xiao’shaoye’ followed by an angier ‘piss off.’

The next day, it was said that Sect Leader Jiang travelled to Jinlintai to witness Wen remnant’s execution but was late by half n hour. It was said he stood by the ashes of the Wens until the sun was gone and the sky was dark.

That night, Sect Leader Jiang pleaded his case with Sect Leader Jin to remove his sister from Lanling on grounds of her ill health so that he may care for her in their ancestral home in Yunmeng. As well, since Jin Ling was still an infant, he stipulated that the boy ought not be separated from his mother. At first, neither Jin Guangshan nor Madam Jin was in agreement, especially since Wei Wuxian was sighted fleeing from Jin Zixuan’s funeral hall. But Jiang Cheng could not be dissuaded, stating that his sister’s health could not withstand the forty-nine days of shouling that was Lanling’s custom, and that for his love of his wife, Jin Zixuan would not have wished for Yanli to suffer. She would mourn in private, as was the ways of Yunmeng. Eventually, Jin Guangshan acquiesced, not wishing to fracture ties with an ally over trivial matters of ceremony. A month was the time he gave Jiang Cheng, which the younger man accepted with graciousness that was more show than sincerity.

If Jiang Yanli seemed too eager to leave, people chalked it up to grief. What Jiang Cheng said to his sister in private, that was not for anyone else to know. And yet, the consequence was this: when Wei Wuxian died at Nevernight not a week later, Jiang Yanli was safe at Lotus Pier with her son and the boy the servants referred to as their ‘young master’.

It was said that Wei Wuxian, driven to madness by demonic power, had lost control and gravely injured his foster brother Jiang Wanyin. Assuming he’d done the unimaginable, Wei Wuxian had given in to death over the mountainous cliff, witnessed in its entirety by Hanguang-jun himself. Some claimed Lan Wangji had attempted to save the monstrous Yiling Laozu but was too late. This claim was largely deemed unsubstantiated.

Sect Leader Jiang lived, as unlikely as it had seemed at the time. Most attributed his survival to the quick combined efforts of Sect Leader Lan and Sect Leader Nie, who were the firsts to arrive at his side, but the healers who tended to him would tell you that Jiang Wanyin’s escape from death had at least been partially due to the strength of his golden core, a specimen most rare in its purity and tenacity.

As for the boy, he was given the name Yuán 圆 (togetherness, reunite) and the courtesy name Wu’Guo 无过 (without fault), as was insisted upon by both Jiang Cheng and Yanli. And if others assumed Jiang Yuan - Jiang Wuguo - was Jiang Wanyin’s illegitimate son, the Jiang family did nothing to dispel such notions. Certainly, the boy referred to Jiang Cheng as “a-die” and to Jiang Yanli as “gu’gu”, so really what else was the cultivator realm to think? The greatest speculations were pertaining to the identity of the boy’s mother, but no rumour or gossip ever held any real weight. The only thing anyone knew for sure was from the lips of a handmaid charged with tidying Sect Master Jiang’s personal quarters. She claimed that Jiang Wuguo’s mother must have died and that Jiang Wanyin must’ve been very in love, for he still kept a mahogany comb wrapped in lilac silk at his bedside table. The maid’s claims were widely accepted in Yunmeng’s circles when all candidates put forth by matchmakers were rejected by Jiang Cheng. As the years went on and Jiang Cheng remained a bachelor, it went without question who his heir would one day be.

Jiang Wuguo grew and was loved. Of those that cherished him, perhaps the most surprising was Gusu’s Hanguang-jun, who visited him often, so much so that Jiang Yanli suggested perhaps it would not be against courtesy for Lan Wangji to accept Jiang Wuguo as his godson. Everyone expected Jiang Cheng the hothead to be offended, but for once, he defied their expectations.

Then, some thirteen years after Wen Qing laid A-Yuan in Jiang Cheng’s arms, Jin Ling came to Lotus Pier with the news that Mo Xuanyu was evicted from Lanling for reasons not entirely clear.

A few months later, at Dafan Mountain where once another group of youths had fought the stone fairy, Jiang Wuguo turned to Jiang Cheng and asked, “A-die, yi’fu who is that man in the mask?”

=====

[ zhu’chi 住持 ] - the abbot/head monk of a buddhist temple.

[ xiao’shaoye 小少爷 ] - young master

[ shou’ling 守灵 ] - to keep vigil at the funeral altar.

[ yuán 圆 ] - circular, or togetherness. It is intonation-ally different but similar enough to his original name yuàn 苑 or the name Lan Zhan would’ve given him yuàn 原.

[ wu’guo 无过 ] - without fault, but also an echo of WWX’s courtsey name wu’xian 无羡 (without envy).

[ a-die 阿爹 ] - dad

[ gu’gu 姑姑 ] - auntie, sister of father.

[yi'fu 义父 ] - godfather

#cql #the untamed #mdzs #chengqing #jiang cheng #wen qing #lan sizhui #a-yuan #I just have a lot of feelings about wen Qing and Jiang Cheng okay????#jiang Yanli does not die in any of my aus #lan Zhan is still relevant #tga #chengqing fic #cql ficlet #corie fics

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hi! I love your works and I was wondering if you could write something about a new "lost soul" saved by the gang and trying hard to fit in. A reserved female reader who secretly develops feelings for Arthur, knowing well he has no interest in getting involved with anybody. A good ol' heart-wrenching, I-will-pine-from-a-distance-and-suffer-in-silence kind of unrequited love. Ending is up to you (but maybe it's a happy one

This one turned out sweet. Arthur’s the biggest softy. That said, FLUFF AHEAD!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You look around nervously, not sure you’re entirely in the right place. Everything’s changed so quickly, it’s hard to process. Sure, you’ve heard endless tales of gangs and outlaws, living wild and free, but you never knew the gritty details about any of it. Now here you are, living it.

You ended up here with the Van der Linde gang because your life has a funny habit of putting you in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been on the train two days ago, and it got robbed by a gang. As they were busy killing the engineer and the conductor and going through everyone’s possessions, a man you’ve come to know to be named as Arthur rode by and killed the bastards. You sank to your knees in fright, afraid you’d be killed too.

As you sobbed into the grass, your hero dismounted and comforted you. When you explained that you had no home, nowhere to go and nothing to return to, Arthur offered you to come with him. You accepted, of course, you just found yourself incapable of saying no. He put you on the back of his horse and rode down south of Blackwater and into a small hideout called Thieves Landing.

You’ve never been here before, your parents told you as a child to avoid the place as though it had the plague. Everyone south of the Upper Montana knew it was where criminals hid and because of its layout, it was hard for the law to take.

It was here that Arthur told you his gang was hiding out in and that you were welcome to stay until you got your life sorted. An older woman named Grimshaw immediately jumped on you and started barking orders, despite you being completely dumbfounded and confused.

It’s been two days since you were brought in, but you’re not entirely convinced you’re fitting in all that well. The gang’s big with at least twenty members. All of them, even the women, have a track record. The only one who’s as innocent is a child named Jack, but the rest have done something to earn them at least a few days in jail, but most have earned even the noose should they ever get caught.

It’s not a comforting idea exactly, but already you can see how tight-knit they all are. There’s a sense of family here, the likes of which you’ve never had the fortune of experiencing. While in the day, Grimshaw barks and even nips, at night she turns pleasant, making sure everyone gets a plate to eat and singing songs around the campfires.

She’s not the only one to let down their hair at night. Most of everyone does, telling stories about things that have happened or singing songs. You especially liked it last night when a young man named Javier sat down and played his guitar, singing in Spanish. Being from down south yourself, you were used to hearing his native tongue though you understood none of the words. It was still pleasant to hear.

“So, how’s you adjustin’?” asks the young girl next to you as you scrub at a shirt in the wash bin with a rather stubborn spot that doesn’t want to come out. She’s got brown hair and she’s wearing a faded purple dress with a rather pretty necklace.

“I… I think I’m okay. But… Mary-Beth, isn’t it?” you say. She nods. “Can I be honest with you?” She nods again. “I really don’t fit in here. Not because you’re criminals and I’m not, it’s just… I have nothing to offer anyone. I don’t know how to steal, shoot a gun. Hell, I can barely ride a horse.”

“And that’s okay,” Mary-Beth says with a small smile. “You can learn how to do those things. I’m more than happy helpin’ ya, and I bet the other gals will too.”

“Not only that, but we can always use another girl,” Grimshaw snarls, stomping over to you both. “Now get to work, both of ya!” She marches away to go bully Tilly.

“Don’t worry about Ms. Grimshaw,” Mary-Beth says when the woman’s out of earshot. “She likes to act tough, and sometimes she can be a little too forceful, but she does care.”

“That’s to be debated,” says Karen, walking over with a repeater in her hand. She must have just finished with guard duty. “That ol’ bat wouldn’t give a damn if we was all on fire, long as we’re workin’.”

Mary-Beth gives a little giggle, but Karen walks off to go and talk with a red-haired man. Because Thieves Landing is so large, you’re still learning the names of the members of the gang. You’ve kept your ears open though, wanting to learn about these people, see how the other side of society works.

Growing up, you never had many friends, always being very shy. At school, you were bullied a lot for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your parents tried to help you but there was little they could do aside from pulling you out of the school and teaching you themselves. They didn’t know much about math or science though, so they taught you what they knew: how to ranch and garden.

When you were about ten, your father got sick and died. A few weeks later, your mother, who had contracted his illness, died too. You ended up at your uncle’s house, but he was such an abusive, angry drunk you just left one day when you were 15. You’ve been on your own since, jumping from one job to the next. You were between them when you were on that train a couple days back, when Arthur found you.

As you sit and work, you smile as you think of your father. He used to tell you many stories, but your favorites were those about gunslingers and outlaws. Something about them seemed romantic and fantastical, the way they represented the idea of freedom, of never being tied down. You never thought you would be incorporated into a gang of them as an adult.

A few hours later and you hear the somewhat familiar voice of the camp cook Pearson shouting that dinner’s ready. You sigh in relief, knowing that dinner signals the end of the day’s work and you can relax. The past two nights you’ve spent alone on your bedroll, being too shy to mingle, but as you stoop to collect your stew, you wonder if you can muster the courage to change that.

Several of the gang has gathered around a large campfire to talk over dinner. There’s an empty seat, but it’s right next to Arthur Morgan. Sure, he’s the man who brought you here, but you feel especially unimportant next to him. He’s a big guy, much taller than yourself, broad, handsome. The girls told you he’s got a very rough exterior but secretly harbors a heart of gold. However, it wasn’t until you found out he holds some of the greatest weight in camp that made you shy around him.

A hand pats you on the back, making you jump a little. Turning, you see Grimshaw.

“Go on, have a seat, dear. You’ve earned it.”

Unable to say no to her, you walk over and take a hesitant seat next to Arthur, hunching down a little. He doesn’t seem to notice as he’s listening to a man named Hosea tell a story about how he’d nearly been busted for robbing a house during a wake but how he’d managed to act his way out of being caught. It’s a rather funny story and as the others laugh appreciatively, you feel yourself relaxing. That is until Hosea’s story ends and he asks you a pointed question.

“How are you settling in, miss?”

You hate being brought out in the spotlight like this and it doesn’t help that Arthur, sitting so close, turns to look at you, his expression neutral.

“Oh, I’m… I’m doing okay, thank you. Mary-Beth said she can teach me how to rob people, so I’m hoping I won’t be so useless to you anymore soon.”

“No one’s complaining about you being useless,” says a man named John, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. “When you start bein’ as useless as Uncle, then we’ll have a problem.”

“Hey, I work!” complains the man in question.

“Really? When was the last time you lifted a finger ‘round here, ol’ man?” Arthur challenges. The group happily begins to bicker, but you’re grateful as it’s pulled their attention off of you.

As the days pass, you begin to hear people in the gang beginning to talk about a big score. A member named Micah came in to bring the idea of a big river boat to the gang’s leader Dutch. From what you can make of Dutch, he’s a clever, calculating man who cares deeply for his family. Mary-Beth and Tilly told you how he and Hosea took both Arthur and John in as their sons despite not being much older themselves. They formed this gang together and it’s stayed strong.

Ever since Micah brought in the potential job, the gang’s been humming with excitement. It seems to be a very big score and will need a lot of help for it to work. You’d like to volunteer, to contribute something, but you know you’re utterly useless right now. Mary-Beth’s only begun to explain the basics of robbing to you. However, this job sounds like it’s to come with a guaranteed gunfight.

The day for the heist arrives and pretty much every man in the gang goes to do it. A few hours later, they return to Thieves Landing bearing bad news. Somehow the law knew the boat was going to be hit and they met the gang with fierce opposition. Poor Jenny, whom you’d just started to get to know, was shot and so was Davey and John. Dutch and Hosea start shouting for everyone to get packed up as the Pinkertons are in pursuit.

Days go by and Thieves Landing is far behind you and the others. The gang has moved north, still trying to shake the Pinkertons off. Jenny passed away two days ago, but no one has been able to bury her as a massive snowstorm moved in shortly after she passed.

Moral is at an all-time low, yours included. You wouldn’t dream of leaving though, these people have become your close friends and even border on something like a family. Grimshaw tries to encourage everyone to stay positive, but it’s clear she doesn’t feel it much either.

Night falls once again as the wagon train goes along a narrow pass, the horses trudging through the thick snow. The weather has stayed horrible for days, dumping the white powder in great heaps. The Pinkertons haven’t been seen in the past two days. Perhaps this means the gang can finally find somewhere to hide. Dutch sent Arthur out a few hours ago to scout, along with John and Micah.

Arthur returns just as Abigail makes note that Davey is nearly dead. He reports that he found a place to shelter and guides the train there. It’s a small town named Colter according to a small sign by the main trail. The gang moves into the largest building but Abigail says Davey’s passed. Soon after, Dutch and Arthur go out to find what else might be around and they end up bringing back a heartbroken woman named Sadie.

Two days go by and the weather’s hardly let up. You stand outside in the freezing, snowy morning. You just need a break from the others for a while. Even though you enjoy most of them, being cooped up in such tight quarters for so long has worn you out. However, you’re already shivering from the cold under all your layers.

“You doin’ okay? Ya look half frozen,” a voice says from behind. You turn and see Arthur, wrapped up in his big blue coat, his face hidden beneath his hat.

“Yeah. Yeah, just need a break. Been a tough few days.”

“It sure has.” Suddenly a fierce blast of wind whistles down the path and Arthur wraps an arm around you as though to protect you from it. As you lack a hat and your head’s covered only by a thin blanket, you bury your head into his chest. He lets you though, but as soon as the wind dies a little you pull away from him, your face red. You blame it on the cold wind.

However, something changes with your view of Arthur. Sure, you’ve seen him comforting most people in the gang and he’s known for being caring and gentle, interested in all movements in the gang. But you were never a receiver of that care until now. You try denying your feelings, saying you’ve just been isolated for too long.

Nearly a week goes by and you’ve tried keeping distance between yourself and Arthur, believing your feelings will cool down with the space. The weather finally breaks and Hosea suggests camping in a new place he knows in the Heartlands. The gang is moved into action finally and the wagon train moves down to it.

It’s a great relief to finally be surrounded by trees and green rather than white and feel the warm sun instead of cold wind. The new camp spot, Horseshoe Overlook, is beautiful. Immediately you’re set to work by Grimshaw, but when night falls, you’re allowed to rest.

You stand on the edge of camp near the cliff, overlooking the river and the canyon. This place is beautiful. You’ve rarely seen this much moving water, being from the desert. Arthur walks over with two bowls of stew.

“Here, noticed you ain’t eaten yet.” He hands you one and you thank him.

The two of you stand together, eating without speaking for a few moments.

“So, now you been with us a while and seen us at our best and worst,” Arthur says, “what you thinkin’ of doing?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean what you plan on doin’? You gonna stay or you thinkin’ of movin’ on? No one would blame you if you decided to leave.”

“Do you… want me to leave?” you say with a pang.

“No. No, far from it. I think you could easily find a place among us. Seems like you already have too. Pretty much everyone here likes ya.”

You blush a little and look away. “I think I wanna stay. I like it here.”

He smiles a little, his blue eyes shining. You feel a surge of desire to hug him, your heart beating a bit faster. “Well, good. Like I said, think you’ll fit in easy.”

He takes your empty plate and heads off, leaving you alone. You turn and watch him, wanting nothing more than to be with him. Part of you wishes he’d come back to you, but he heads off to sit next to John and Hosea at the campfire. You turn back to watch the sunset, trying to push him out of your mind. It won’t do you any favors.

The next morning, you’re sitting with the other girls doing chores. Mary-Beth turns to you. “So, saw you blushing when Arthur said good mornin’ to you.” She gives you a sly look.

“I… I thought I had to sneeze right when he spoke to me,” you lie.

“It’s okay if you like him,” she says consolingly. “To be honest, I think we all developed a little thing for him in the beginning. I did anyways.”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t,” Tilly says. “But, do yourself a favor, Y/N. Move on from him. I ain’t sayin’ that out of selfishness or cruelty, but Arthur’s unavailable.”

“I didn’t know he had someone,” you say sadly.

“Well, he doesn’t anymore, but he can’t seem to move on from her,” Mary-Beth explains.

As if on queue, Arthur walks out of his tent, reading a letter. Susan walks up to him and they exchange words. You hear the name Mary and Susan tells him she never liked her. He says something to her and then heads out.

“And there he goes, off to see her,” Karen says sourly. “She barely has to say his name and he’ll move mountains to see her.”

Your heart sinks even further. You’d just begun to accept the fact that you have some strong feelings for Arthur, but this is a harsh blow. If he’s still attached to this woman, it means he’s definitely not interested in you. It’d be best if you give him up.

Night comes and Arthur’s returned. Once again, he brings you a plate of food as you stand near the cliff. A long silence passes between the two of you, your mind heavy.

“You okay? Awful quiet,” he says.

“I’m doin’ just fine, Arthur, thank you though,” you say somewhat coldly. You mentally make a note to be a little nicer. It’s not his fault you’ve got a crush on him.

“You sure? If ya need to talk, I’m always willin’ to listen. I want ya to be happy.”

God, why does he have to be so sweet yet so unavailable? It’s incredibly frustrating. You turn to him.

“Well, maybe you can help. Have you ever had real strong feelings for someone? Someone you couldn’t be with because you know they’d never want to be with you, and because they’re hung up on someone else?”

He gives you a curious look. “Who you talkin’ about?” His face falls a bit. “It’s John, ain’t it? You got a thing for him, don’t ya?”

Is that envy in his eyes? “J-John? No, Arthur, I don’t have a thing for John. Sure he’s nice and funny, but he’s not my type. Plus I think Abigail would murder anyone who tried anything with him.”

His face lightens up a bit. “I think you’re right there. Well, I don’t know much about relationships. Pretty useless, in fact.”

You smile up at him. “Well, thought I’d ask.”

“Who is this person?” he asks. “Anyone I know?”

“Definitely. He’s… someone in this gang, but like I said, he’s emotionally unavailable. Besides, I wouldn’t stand a chance with him.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short.” He sighs a little. “Well, maybe you just need to walk up to this feller, tell him exactly how you feel.”

“Okay. Arthur, I like you.”

“Exactly. Just like that.” He smiles. “See? It ain’t so hard.”

“No, Arthur, you’re not listening to me,” you say, your face beat red. “I said I like you.”

He blinks and straightens up a bit. He looks shocked. Or maybe that’s anger. Fear stings your stomach and you take a step back.

“I… I’m sorry. I was… just practicing.” You turn to walk away, deciding never to be alone with Arthur again. You can’t blame him for being angry either. You wouldn’t like you if you were him.

“Y/N, wait.” His hand’s on your shoulders. “Did you mean it?”

You look down at your feet. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t choose to like you, and I’m sorry for it. Not because you’re not a good man,” you say hastily at the look on his face. “What I meant is I’m sorry for… me.”

His eyes soften considerably. “Please don’t apologize. Especially for you bein’ yourself. Can I tell you a secret?” He leans in a little and whispers, “I’ve liked ya since that day up in Colter.”

You blush even deeper. “Me too.”

His arms suddenly slide around you, hot and gentle. Your hands are on his shoulders and he leans down, placing his lips on yours. Something flutters in your chest. It’s like a bird is trapped inside, fighting to get out. They’re slightly chapped, but the moment his lips touch yours, the bird settles and gives a satisfied purr. You lean into the kiss, sighing a little.

“Bout time you two finally did somethin’,” Hosea says, walking past. He gives you both a sly smile. “Dutch and I been gettin’ tired of seeing you two gettin’ all dovey eyed when the other wasn’t looking.”

You laugh and put your forehead onto Arthur’s chest, trying to hide your face as Arthur laughs.

“Sorry, Hosea.”

“Nah, you two kids have fun.” He walks off, chuckling a bit. Arthur looks down at you and smiles.

“You wanna go somewhere a little more private? Try that kiss where we won’t be spied on?”

You bite your lip and smile, nodding. Arthur takes your hand and leads you off into the trees. You pin him to a tree and kiss him hard, pressing your body on his. His arms slide up your back and wind into your hair. As the kiss deepens, you wonder where else this night will go.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Speak No Evil (Part 13)

The hand comes down from the stars, it brushes over her cheeks. It is soft and it is loving. Warm and kind. She brings her own hand up to it and strokes the back of it. The stars overhead shift and swirl and glimmer and wink. She thinks that they might be singing or humming. It is a sweet sound. A lulling sound. Like the lullabies she had been deprived of.

It is strange, she thinks, to sleep when you’re already sleeping. But she finds herself curling up and drifting off as the stars fall around her is teeny twinkling bursts. They shower sparkles over her until her skin is enticingly and richly spangled with them. She feels celestial. Ethereal. They dust her lashes and glittery her hair. She feels pleasantly absent.

And the humming grows. She opens her mouth and the stars flutter onto her tongue. When she swallows them they taste of powdered sugar and passionfruit. She thinks that there is a hint of blueberry. And somehow she is certain that these are the tastes of the cosmos, truly.

They stars swirl around her and they ask her if she is okay. She nods. They tell her that, that is good. She nods again. They tell her that it is fine, that she can talk to them. She says that she doesn’t know what to talk about--her voice tastes like blackberry and cherry. They ask her if she is awake.

She rolls over and rubs the blur out of her eyes. Her lower lip trembles and she can’t say why. The rays of the sun cast a light on longing. Longing for what they have stolen from her by falling over her face.

“Are you awake?” Seicho asks.

She sits up a sweep of sleep tangled locks spill over her shoulders.

“Oh good, because I’m hungry and I’m having trouble getting the fire started.”

Azula wants to ask her why she doesn’t just use her bending but she can’t find her parchment.

“Did you sleep well?”

Azula nods.

She smiles, “you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night for once. I can tell you a story before bed again if it helps.”

She isn’t sure that that has anything to do with her ability to stay asleep, neither is she sure that she doesn’t want another story.

.oOo.

Her party is small. Small and foreign. Not one of them knows any of the others. And that’s where the real excitement lies. They have a whole glimmering glacier to explore, and yet the thrill lies in exploring each other. Navigating each other’s brains and auras and personalities until they know them as sure as their own.

TyLee is certain that they don't see it this way. They probably aren’t thinking of auras at all. They are thinking of adventure and sightseeing and once in a lifetime views. She is thinking of the very same. But she is anticipating the fireside conversations much more than anything the glaciers and their tunnels will have to offer.

There is something enticing about being one of the first Fire Nationals to embark on a wintery expedition. Much of the trek to the glacier is uneventful, she finds herself fully engrossed in keeping her footing in the snow and not losing sight of her party when the snow begins to fall more intensely. And the weight of her pack isn’t so pleasant either, she isn’t used to carrying something so heavy for so long.

A quick scan of their faces shows that her companions wouldn’t be up for conversation either, even if she had been. Apparently even the seasoned explorers are struggling. She wonders what they must make of her. Likely they think she is a burden. She wonders if she is slowing them down. If they resent her for it, if they regret bringing her along.

She isn’t watching her footing, she stumbles and topples into the snow.

“You alright down there?” The woman extends a hand.

“I’m fine, really cold though.” She shivers and shakes the snow out of her hair. “I just can’t get the hang of these things.” She lifts her snowshoes one after the other.

One of the men laughs, “usually takes more than one trip to get used to them.”

“You had to get used to them?”

“I’m from the Earth Kingdom. The part I live in doesn’t get much snow.”

She readjusts her snowshoes and they continue. She finds the silence to be slightly less uncomfortable. How funny it is that breaking the ice beneath her feet would be a conversational ice breaker.

.oOo.

Azula is growing used to the hike. Growing used to feeling sticky and dirty. She supposes that if she can adjust to the discomforts of a straightjacket then other, lesser, discomforts will be manageable.

“We should be at the ruins tomorrow.” Seicho notes as she douses the fire.

‘Good’ Azula writes. She is running out of parchment, energy, and willpower. More often than not she finds herself distant. She thinks of the stars of their powdered sugar and passionfruit tang. She wonders if that is what the Spirit World is like. She wonders if the Spirit World would be kind to her given her history or if she’d just be swapping one pain for a new kind.

Whatever the case, she finds that she likes sleeping and dreaming more than she enjoys the physical world. And Agni, she had only had one dream. Just a small taste was more than enough to leave her yearning for something kinder.

For a world where there are only twinkling galaxies and sweetly murmuring voices. For a world where her own voice can murmur. For a world where she has nothing to atone for. No one to miss because no one else exists.

She thinks that TyLee would have liked the starry hand… She stares up at the ceiling of the tent. How many times has she shifted positions now? She closes her eyes and tries to dream. But her head is cluttered. Cluttered with old arguments on a steady replay and visions of tears. The sound her TyLee’s wimpers play in her mind with such clarity that she might as well be next to her.

She rolls over again and grips her hands over her head. It will be over soon, she promises herself. One way or the other she will have sleep and quiet.

“Hey.” Seicho whispers.

Azula inhales sharply and turns to face her.

“Trouble sleeping?”

She wonders what gave her the first clue.

“I can tell you about the time when I found the ruins.” Azula nods and inches a little closer to the woman. She cannot sleep so she will settle for a story. For a lesser escape.

.oOo.

“I thought that we’d have reached the glacier by now.” Says the woman who had helped her up. Evidently TyLee has been thinking the same.

“It’s a day or so out yet, Tuya.” Says the eldest of the group. “We’ll make it there by sun down tomorrow. “For now we’ll set up camp and make ourselves cozy.”

“How do we get cozy and warm in a place like this?” TyLee asks.

It would seem that it is quite simple; the right gear and a well maintained fire are the key elements. A communal tent and a warm meal are important aspects. The Earthbender, Keyhyun, stirs a fine soup. She hasn’t tasted it yet but it smells pleasant.

“So, Keyhyun, what brings you from the Earth Kingdom to the poles?” Tuya asks. She points at the eldest man, “Tanak is an archeologist and Natuk makes a hobby of exploring glaciers, what about you?”

Keyhyun shrugs. “Earth Kingdom gets boring after a while. Where I come from it’s all rolling grasslands and some hills.”

“So you traded plain grasslands for plain snow mounds?” Natuk nudges the man.

“At least snow mounds glitter. Grass just…” he makes a swishing gesture.

They share a laugh.

“What about you?” Tuya asks. “We never get Fire Nationals.”

“And I’ve had too many of them.” She tries to laugh.

“Good one.” Natuk slaps his knee.

“Glad that we have a least one clever person on this trip.” Tuya comments.

TyLee’s tummy flutters, the grin that spreads across her face is near involuntary. Clever! Someone thinks that she is clever! Usually clever is Azula’s job…

And maybe it isn’t that she was never clever. Maybe it was that Azula preferred her to keep silent and let her do all of the planning. Maybe it was that Azula didn’t hadn’t given her a chance to be clever. Maybe it was that Mai saw her as clueless and she didn’t have the will or desire to be anything else. Not when that would set a higher bar. She bites the inside of her cheek; maybe the two of them had been holding her back. And maybe doing so made them feel more secure.

Indeed, she has had too many Fire Nationals. Too many standards and ill tempers and rigid perfection…

“Your soup’s ready.” Keyhyun announces.

Tanak passes her a bowl. Her smile returns.

.oOo.

She isn’t sure at first, what she is seeing. At first she thinks that the woman has eaten something poisonous during their trek. Her silent shudders are haunting. Seicho isn’t sure what she will do if the woman stops moving. Her concern waynes only slightly when it occurs to her that the woman isn’t seizing, she is crying. Quietly crying. She doesn’t know why she hadn’t considered that the woman couldn’t even utter a sound to cry.

And somehow it is more haunting than a forlorn wail piercing the night. It is such a silent sorrow. Frankly, she isn’t sure that the woman would make a sound even if she could. And she ponders upon whether or not she should approach the woman at all. But Agni does it hurt to see her like this.

“Hey.” She finally musters up the courage.

The woman doesn’t turn. She wraps her arms more tightly around herself.

Hesitantly, Seicho reaches out and touches the woman’s arm. She jerks and tenses. “Sorry.” She mutters, feeling the woman relax once more. Relax as far as she can, anyhow. She still shakes slightly beneath her hand. “Do you want to write what’s wrong? I can get you your parchment.”

The woman doesn’t move. Seicho gently rubs her upturned arm. “I can hold you. I’m good at hugging people.” It is a stupid thing to offer. Not once during this trip has the woman indicated that she liked being touched, much less held. She doesn’t know what else to do. “Do you want to hear another story?”

This time the woman turns to face her.

“Here.” She dabs at the woman’s wet cheeks. “Do you want to hear more about the Hope Stone or do you want to hear one about a woman who wears a coconut mask?”

The woman points to the little flap on the ceiling and to the stars that shine through.

“Okay, Hope Stone it is.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #Tyzula #Fanfiction

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lallemanting · 4 years

Text

for want of gold

When your soulmate touches you, it leaves behind an imprint, color staining your skin. Red for romantic soulmates. Blue for platonic. That’s the universe Lucas knows, the one he’s supposed to take part in. He wishes he didn’t have to.

Or an enemies to friends to lovers/soulmate au where Lucas is jaded, Eliott is hopeful, and it should be simple, but, of course, it isn’t.

chapter 6

(tw for a brief scene dealing with Eliott’s bipolar)

“Gold runs in our blood.” ― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

It’s incredible how fast Lucas is able to get himself to leave the art show. There’s part of him that says that he should just go to Eliott, see him, talk to him, that it might not be what it seems.

But there’s another, louder, part of him that just wants to go, wants to sit in his newfound revelation and process. Wants to think about Eliott, and how he sees him and how this changes things.

Because the thing is, Lucille is exactly the kind of person Eliott deserves. She’s beautiful and seems nice and as they stand together surrounded by their friends, Lucas can see how well they fit, how good they look together, how much Eliott deserves that...or at least something like that.

And sure Lucille isn’t his soulmate, but Eliott deserves to have someone now, like Lucille, while he waits. Because Lucas can’t imagine a universe in which Eliott doesn’t get his soulmate. There’s never been someone more deserving than Eliott. And knowing now what that means to him, Lucas can forgive his strict belief in the universe, can forgive the stock Eliott takes in the whole soulmate business, because it’s something for him to hold on to, something important.

In the end, Lucas can’t muster up the courage to go and talk to Eliott before he leaves. He goes up to Sofiane and Imane and says something about a headache – which isn’t entirely untrue seeing how his brain has only been chanting you’re in love with Eliott over and over again for the last 20 minutes. And in any case, Lucas doesn’t want to bring down the mood at the show. It’s Eliott’s big night and he deserves to have it as bright and happy and not influenced by emotional turmoil as possible.

So Lucas finds his coat and slips out.

He elects to walk home, hoping the cold air will clear his head and maybe dull his senses a bit, giving him some relief from the onslaught of feelings he’s having. He’s in love with Eliott. How could he have not picked up on that before? It’s not that it should be overly surprising given how fast he’d let Eliott in, how fast Eliott had made a place in Lucas’ heart to call his own.

And yet, Lucas hadn’t seen it coming. But maybe that’s because he wasn’t paying attention.

He’s been so wrapped up for so long in the logistics of love, the logistics of soulmates and soulmarks and his vendetta against a system he never chose to be a part of, that he’d forgotten to let himself feel anything else.

But now that it’s here, now that the feeling has washed over him and the choir that’s appeared in his head is singing only refrains of him loving Eliott, it feels like he may never be able to live without it.

In his haze to protect the heart his father had broken, Lucas had never let himself imagine there would be someone who wanted to fix it, someone he’d want to fix it. And in the end, he’d set himself up for this really.

And Eliott deserves more than that. Eliott deserves more than what Lucas can give him.

So Lucas puts his head down to steel himself against the cold, and presses on towards home.

***

Lucas tries to slink in unnoticed, desperate for a chance to sleep, to forget the feelings churning within him for a few hours. But it’s not that late and Yann is still up, watching some dumb sitcom on the tv and he spots Lucas as he walks in the front door.

“How was the art show?” Yann asks, his tone light and teasing. And Lucas knows what he’s implying, what he’s hinting at, but having been hit with a tidal wave of new feelings and, perhaps, a little heartbreak, he can’t listen to it right now.

“Fine,” he huffs out, heading straight for his room, not bothering to take off his coat and shoes by the door.

And how Lucas wishes sometimes that Yann didn’t know him as well as he does. “Hey, you okay?” Yann asks, reaching out to pause the show. “Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Lucas responds shortly.

“Lucas–”

“I said I’m fine!” He slams his door behind him.

He gets ready for bed quickly, dropping his clothes on the ground in a pile and pulling on an old t-shirt he finds strewn across his bed. He’s cold, which is unusual, seeing as his room is normally boiling due to its small size and lack of ventilation. But tonight there’s a chill clinging to his bones and he shivers, pulling the covers up over his head to speed up his body warming the bed.

His mind is eagerly playing the scene at the show over and over again in his head, refusing, for even a moment to let Lucas breathe. He wishes, desperately, that he was even remotely tired, but he’s not and he knows he’ll be up for at least a few more hours. But the darkness and the blankets are calming so he lays there in the silence.

And it sucks, it does, but sleepless nights with his mind fixating on the same thing over and over again are nothing new to him. So he sighs, tries to find the light in his chest to get himself to calm down, but it’s not there for some reason, it’s hard to find. He tries for a while before he finally gives up, flopping over to retrieve his phone from his pants pocket on the floor thinking he’ll probably turn on some Netflix and hopefully fall asleep to that.

He clicks open his phone and his heart drops.

Eliott (22:53) Hey where are you? Did you leave? Are you okay?

Eliott (23:02) Okay just talked to Sofiane, hope you feel better! Did you get home okay?

Eliott (23:11) Lucas?

Eliott (23:30) Okay I texted Yann and he said you went straight to bed so I’m assuming you’re not responding because you’re asleep Text me in the morning okay? Goodnight x

Lucas’ fingers itch to respond and his heart is almost beating out of his chest that Eliott is texting him, that Eliott wants to know where he is, if he is okay. But then he thinks again of Eliott standing there surrounded by the love he deserved and Lucille and it’s too much. His heart aches and Lucas almost grabs at his chest, but he can’t bring himself to respond. Because Eliott – sweet, charming, beautiful Eliott – deserves so much more than Lucas.

Instead Lucas swipes away and opens up Netflix, finding a show he’s seen hundreds of times before and puts it on, playing episode after episode until his eyes can’t stay open any longer.

***

It should be no surprise then that that night, and for many nights after, Lucas’ dreams are filled with the phantom Eliott that had slipped into his mind and awakened his heart.

The dreams are always the same – lit soft and golden, them laying in bed together, Eliott touching him so softly and sweetly he could cry, leaving trails of red behind in their wake.

They all end the same too – with Eliott leaning in, Lucas longing to feel his lips against his own – only for Lucas to awaken with a start, breath rapid, an ache deep within his chest.

It’s these dreams, Lucas tells himself that make him avoid Eliott. He hadn’t planned on it, at first, giving himself Saturday to deal with whatever he thought he was feeling and push it down, lock it away, just like with everything else and reemerge totally normally. He can do normal. He can do friends. He wants nothing more than to have Eliott around, but there would be no use in telling him how he feels, because what then?

Eliott is waiting for his soulmate and the chance that that’s Lucas, well they’re not very good.

So Lucas plans to tuck it away until the feelings disappear, as he assumes they will, just as quickly as they appeared. But when he wakes up every morning to thoughts of Eliott making him gasp, it’s hard to think of anything else.

For a few days Lucas manages to get away with it. He puts some distance between him and Eliott, texting him back, but only just. He feigns illness over the weekend, shutting Eliott down when he offers to bring him some soup, claiming he doesn’t want to get Eliott sick. He stays in his room for the most part, using the extra hours to study, and thinks he’s even managed to fool Yann, who had picked up a few extra shifts and spent more time out of the apartment than usual.

And then, on Monday and Tuesday, he tells Eliott that he can’t see him because of a major test he has on Wednesday (which, to be fair, Lucas isn’t making up. He’s just, maybe, making up exactly how much time he needs to study for it). And Eliott, like the sweet angel he is, takes everything Lucas says to him at face value, even offering to bring coffee to the library for him, which Lucas nicely turns down.

But Lucas knows that despite his best efforts, Eliott is probably picking up on Lucas’ avoidance more than he’d like. Where memes and silly posts that Eliott would send him normally led to a conversation spanning a few hours, now Lucas replies with a word or two, trying to end the conversation before it starts. It’s just – Lucas can’t get over Eliott if he’s talking to him all the time.

So in the end, it all sets him up to come crashing down spectacularly as it does on Wednesday.

Lucas is at the coffee shop, leaning against the counter chatting with Yann and waiting for his shift to end so they can walk home together when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns, expecting a customer annoyed with him for distracting the barista instead of letting him make the coffees, but instead he’s met with six-feet of sheepish boy, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, a tentative smile on his face, dark circles around his eyes.

“Hey,” Eliott says softly.

Lucas stares at him for a moment, forgetting how to breathe slightly, because for all that he’d convinced himself it’d be easy to get over Eliott, seeing him in the flesh for the first time since his realization is like getting hit in the face with a hammer. Lucas’ mouth goes dry and all he can see are Eliott’s beautiful gray eyes staring back at him, warmth flooding his entire body. He swallows, heart pounding in his chest, before he answers. “Hi.”

Eliott shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Lucas has noticed he does that when he’s nervous. So he’s nervous, which makes two of them. “Haven’t really heard from you in a while,” he says, his hand coming up and his fingers tracing over his lips. “Feeling better?”

Lucas shoots a glance over to where Yann is standing behind the counter, seemingly making a cappuccino, but Lucas knows he’s definitely also intently listening to every word they’re saying. “Um, yeah, just caught the flu or something,” Lucas says, “but I’m better now.”

“Good,” Eliott replies.

They look at each other, for a moment, the silence washing over them and this is the first time since they became friends, Lucas thinks, that it’s ever been awkward between them. It brings him back to when they used to not get along, except this time, Eliott is coming in with less fire, less self-confidence than Lucas is used to. He just seems so tired.

Eliott’s hand finds his pocket again and he shifts, looking like he wants to say something. “Um, are you...are you upset with me?” he blurts, eyes dropping to the ground.

Lucas’ chest constricts. “No,” he breathes out, because, god, he’d never want to make Eliott feel badly. This, all of this, is Lucas’ fault. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me is all.”

“No, I haven’t, I promise,” Lucas lies, because he can’t explain himself, but he also can’t have Eliott thinking this is on him. “I’ve just been really busy.”

Eliott looks up again, catching Lucas’ eye, a small smile finding its way to his mouth. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“So we can hang out soon?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, good,” Eliott says, pulling on the strap of his backpack. “I, uh, have to go to class now, but I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies and then Eliott is gone.

Lucas turns back to the counter and takes a few deep, steadying breaths, his hands gripping the smooth wood. He looks up and finds Yann looking back at him, a strange look on his face. But he says nothing.

Lucas walks home with Yann in relative quietness, cracking jokes here and there but otherwise just making their way to their apartment. They’re both tired, Lucas knows, and he can’t help but think about the leftovers waiting for him in the fridge and the Netflix he can watch since he doesn’t have any assignments left this week. And maybe that will take his mind off of everything for a few hours.

But apparently Yann has other ideas.

The door to their apartment has barely closed when Yann whips around to face Lucas. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says sternly. “We’re both going to go to our rooms to change and then you’re going to come back out here and explain to me what the fuck is going on with you.”

Lucas just stares at him and Yann stares back, as if daring him to disagree. The look on Yann’s face is enough that Lucas knows there’s no protesting.

“Fine.”

It takes a few minutes but soon enough they’re both sitting in the living room on the old couch. Lucas has changed into a pair of old sweats and a sweatshirt and he plays absentmindedly with a thread at the end of one of his sleeves. They’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything as Lucas tries to find the words. Because the thing is, Yann will push, but only just. He’d never actually make Lucas tell him something he didn’t want to. But Lucas wants to. He feels like he might explode if he doesn’t talk to someone about it.

Finally Lucas takes a deep breath and pulls on the thread, ripping it off the hoodie. “It’s Eliott,” he says.

He looks up to find Yann looking at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lucas groans. “That obvious, huh?”

“I would have paid money to not have to be a witness to whatever the hell just happened in the coffee shop,” Yann says. “It was excruciatingly awkward.”

Lucas groans louder and shuts his eyes. He really brought this on himself.

“Did you guys get in a fight or something?” Yann asks, his face suddenly slightly contorted with concern.

And wouldn’t it be great if it was just that, if it was that simple, if it wasn’t this instead, the throbbing in his heart that won’t go away.

“No,” Lucas sighs. “Why would you think that?”

Yann shakes his head. “I don’t know, because it was super awkward and the two of you used to not like each other, remember?”

That time feels so far away now that Lucas almost doesn’t.

“No it’s not that,” Lucas says.

“Okay?”

“I, uh, I think I’m in love with Eliott. Or...I am. I’m in love with Eliott.”

Yann just blinks at him. It’s not the gawking or complete and utter disbelief Lucas was expecting.

“You don’t look surprised,” he says.

Yann sighs. “I’m not, not really. Though I’m not really seeing why it’s a problem.”

“What?” Lucas asks incredulously. “It’s Eliott! I’m in love with Eliott and I just realized it and now I’m avoiding him.”

“Why are you avoiding him?”

Lucas groans again because he doesn’t understand what Yann is getting at, doesn’t understand how Yann isn’t immediately grasping the seriousness of this situation. “What do you mean why am I avoiding him? Because I’m afraid that he’ll find out!”

Yann just looks at him.

Lucas goes on. “And if he finds out, it will ruin everything because he’s waiting for his soulmate and he won’t know how to act around me when he doesn’t love me back.”

Yann rolls his eyes so hard Lucas is scared for a minute they’ll get stuck that way. “Lucas, I know you do well in school, but I swear you are one of the dumbest people I know.”

“Hey! What are you talking about?”

“Eliott is 100% definitely into you.”

Lucas stares at him. “What! No he’s not!”

“He so is,” Yann replies, rubbing a hand across his face and looking so, so tired. “The two of you have practically been dating for the past month.”

Lucas’ heart drops to his stomach. “We have not!”

“All the things you’ve been doing, all the times you hung out? Those were dates,” Yann says, his face straight, voice even. “You do realize those were dates right?”

Lucas sputters for a moment. “They weren’t dates! Eliott had to go to them anyway for school and asked me to tag along. Perfectly friendly!”

“They were dates,” Yann says again, even more firmly if that’s possible. “I don’t know if either of you realize it – you both can be a bit, shall we say, oblivious – but you’ve been dating without all the benefits for a month. Homework be damned.”

Lucas closes his eyes. “No,” he starts, but Yann cuts him off again.

“Lucas,” he says and waits until Lucas opens his eyes and looks at him. “You need to talk to him. He’s been treating you like you’re dating. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the homework assignments he suddenly needed help with weren’t just an excuse to get you alone, go do things with you. What does he need your help for, with his art homework? You’re pre-med for god’s sake.”

Lucas blanches. “Well he wasn’t exactly asking me for help , I was just tagging along…”

Yann lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just proving my point,” he says. And then, “Stop being stupid and talk to him.”

Lucas just stares at him, mouth hanging open. “It’s not...we’re just…” he tries, but no words seem to come.

Yann shrugs, but reaches out and pats Lucas’ shoulder. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he says, “but I think, whatever the case may be, you need to talk to him. Clearly avoiding him isn’t working.”

And Lucas hates it, but he knows Yann is right, knows he can’t keep this up forever.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ll talk to him.”

***

And Lucas tries, he really does, to talk to Eliott. Only, it seems, Eliott doesn’t want to talk to him.

Lucas texts him the morning after his talk with Yann. Nothing too serious, just asking if they can meet up soon. He gets no response all day, which is definitely unusual for Eliott. He texts him again that night, just asking if Eliott is okay, which also receives no response.

By Saturday, Lucas is annoyed, and also a little worried. Sure, he was avoiding Eliott too, but that didn’t mean he stopped responding to him completely. And after everything, this just feels so unlike Eliott to leave him hanging like this, to just not get back to him, so maybe, in the end, he’s a little dramatic.

Sure, he could have probably texted Idriss, just to make sure Eliott was okay, but there’s something that tells him it would break his heart to have Idriss be the one to tell him that everything was fine, that Eliott just didn’t want to talk to him. So instead, he heads over to Idriss and Eliott’s apartment.

When he reaches the door to their building, it’s early afternoon and Lucas has spent all morning in the library. Lucas had specifically waited until he knew they’d be up and around, not wanting Idriss to be annoyed with him if he knocked on their door at 11 in the morning. He’s about to dial up when someone leaves the building, so he slips in the door, climbing the three flights of stairs to the apartment.

And suddenly, standing there in front of the big wooden door, Lucas feels a little ridiculous. He’s being dramatic, he knows, and he should just turn back, just wait until Eliott is ready to talk to him again, give Eliott space if that’s what he needs.

But he’s here, and there’s something telling Lucas that he can’t walk away now, he needs to know if this is Eliott deciding he’s done with Lucas for good, if just a taste of a few days away from him made Eliott realize he was better off.

Lucas takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

He hears some shuffling inside the apartment and then the door is opening to reveal Idriss, who looks at Lucas with confusion written across his face.

“Lucas...” he says, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“Is Eliott here?” Lucas asks, his voice wavering slightly as he tries not to let Idriss see his panic.

“Uh,” Idriss replies, looking over his shoulder and then back at Lucas. “Listen, Lucas, he’s, uh, not really feeling too well right now and I…”

And suddenly all of his annoyance, all of his fear of what Eliott thinks of him and them and everything else drops away and is replaced by worry. Worry only for Eliott’s wellbeing, because maybe Eliott is hurting or sick or having a hard time and Lucas didn’t know.

“Is he okay?” Lucas asks quickly.

Idriss looks at him tentatively, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “Yeah,” Idriss says finally. “Or he will be. He’s just tired, so I don’t know if now is the best time...”

And there’s something in Idriss face that makes the remaining pieces click into place because Lucas remembers this, remembers from the research he did right after Eliott told him.

“Is, um,” Lucas pauses, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, exactly how to not be insensitive but still wanting to make sure. “Is it his bipolar?”

Idriss’ face changes and he stares at Lucas, slightly bewildered. “He told you?” he asks quietly.

Lucas nods, “Yeah.”

Idriss smiles then, but it’s a small smile, a private smile that seems less about happiness and more like he’s realizing something. “Wait here,” he says. “I’m going to go talk to Eliott.”

Lucas stands in the hallway, waiting, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and all he can think is how much he hopes Eliott is okay, how much he wishes he’d known something was going on, how he’d managed to miss it.

It takes a few minutes but then Idriss reappears from around the corner, and Eliott must have said something okay because Idriss is reaching out to pull the door open wider and ushering Lucas in. “He’s in his room,” Idriss says, pointing down the hall. Lucas smiles at him and goes.

He realizes suddenly that he’s not sure which one is Eliott’s room, that he’s never been in there before, but he pushes the thought down quickly when he sees that only one door in the hallway is shut, the other two leading to a bathroom and Idriss’ room.

Lucas walks up to the closed door and knocks lightly, waiting for a faint come in , before he’s turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Lucas is hit by the relative darkness. It’s afternoon and a sunny day, but the curtains are all pulled tight, light bleeding in softly through the slightly gauzy material. The room is small, but that’s unsurprising for Paris, a dresser in one corner, drawers open halfway, and a small desk under one of the windows.

In the other corner is Eliott’s bed, a large double piled high with blankets and a lump in the middle Lucas assumes is Eliott. There’s a nightstand on one side that holds a lamp, a book, a glass of water and an uneaten piece of toast.

Lucas’ heart pinches.

“Hi,” Lucas says quietly, tentatively.

The lump moves slightly and then Eliott’s head appears from under the covers, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Come in here and shut the door,” he says, his voice croaking with disuse.

Lucas steps into the room and closes the door gently behind him, dropping his backpack from his shoulders and walking over to Eliott’s bed, sitting gently on the mattress. He takes in Eliott’s face looking back at him, the dark circles around his eyes, the way he’s laying, small and curled up on the bed.

“How are you doing?” Lucas asks, hoping it’s the right thing to say.

Lucas thinks Eliott shrugs, but he can’t really tell under the blankets.

“Better than yesterday,” Eliott says.

Lucas swallows, unsure of how to proceed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Eliott shakes his head. “No.” And then, “it’s nice to see you though.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Lucas replies, because it is, it’s always good to see Eliott, even if his heart is aching at how tired and small and sad Eliott looks. “I hadn’t heard from you in a few days,” he explains. “I just wanted to see if you were...uh, how you were doing.”

Eliott sighs. “I’m just having a couple bad days.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not an episode ,” Eliott says quickly, as if he’s used to having to defend himself, but Lucas doesn’t say anything more than okay again, wishing that he could reach out and brush the hair away from Eliott’s forehead. “Sometimes I just have a bad couple days.”

“That’s okay,” Lucas replies and he means it. All he wants is for Eliott to feel better.

They sit in silence for a moment in the dim room, the whirring of Eliott’s fan drowning out the noises outside. And it’s peaceful and quiet and safe and Lucas can understand why Eliott is seeking shelter here, weathering the storm here.

“You don’t have to stay,” Eliott whispers.

“I can go if you want me to.”

“It’s just...I'm not very good company right now,” Eliott replies, pulling up the covers to his chin. “I’m doing a lot of sleeping.”

Lucas smiles. “I don’t mind.”

Eliott stares at him then, his eyes tired but searching, a storm of gray that Lucas longs to see settled, an indent on his face from where it’s been pressed into the pillow. And all Lucas can think is how beautiful he is, how lucky he is someone like Eliott in his life.

“I don’t want you to stay because you feel like you have to,” Eliott says then, his voice even quieter than it was before.

“I’m not,” Lucas replies quickly. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit here with you. And you can sleep because I have some studying to do anyway.”

Lucas thinks he maybe sees a ghost of a smile on Eliott’s lips. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Lucas says and he goes to get his textbook from his bag before he turns around and finds Eliott’s moved over on the bed to make room for him.

(And Lucas can’t help the way his stomach flutters, the way his heart swells, the way, despite all his efforts, the love in his chest expands so much he can hardly breathe with the weight of it.)

Lucas settles onto the bed, a pillow behind his back and Eliott lying next to him, and thinks Eliott has already fallen back asleep, his eyes closed, his face buried in the covers when he says something softly, muffled by the fabric.

“I thought you were avoiding me because of my painting,” Eliott says, “but you’re here.”

Lucas glances down at Eliott, heartbeat picking up as he tries to interpret what Eliott means by that, why Lucas would ever avoid him because of that, but at he stares down at Eliott’s form, sleep already overtaking him, he knows it’s not the time. Instead, he just reaches down and pulls the covers even tighter around Eliott. “I’m here,” he says.

***

Eliott wakes again a few hours later to find Lucas watching Netflix on his phone, slumped down farther in the pillows.

“What time is it?” Eliott croaks and Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound.

“You’re awake!” he says and then stops whatever he’s watching to check the time. “Ah it’s almost 6.”

“Almost 6.”

“About dinner time,” Lucas muses. “Are you hungry?”

Eliott shifts slightly, bringing his body closer to Lucas’ but still far enough to keep them from touching. “Maybe a little.”

Lucas smiles. “I’ll go get you something, yeah?”

And he does.

Lucas gets Eliott something small and while he’s in the kitchen making it, Idriss passes by with a grateful look on his face and a whispered how is he doing? and Lucas can’t help but feel warm that Eliott has people like that that care for him. He brings the food back into Eliott’s room and waits for Eliott to shift a little so he can eat it, joining him in the bed and eating too. It is dinner time after all.

Then Lucas suggests putting on a movie. “You can go back to sleep if you want,” he says, “but it just might be nice to have on.” Eliott’s whispered okay is enough to have Lucas retrieving Eliott’s laptop from the desk and loading an old Disney movie just to make Eliott laugh.

“I’m sorry but none of your artsy crap,” Lucas teases, and Eliott lets out a small laugh from his pile of blankets. “We’re not using our brains today.”

And then they settle in, the opening sound of the movie playing, Eliott laying back down on the pillow next to him and they’re close but not quite touching, and for once, Lucas isn’t scared.

“I should probably go once this is over,” Lucas says, chancing a glance towards Eliott, whose eyes are fixed on the laptop. He says it quietly, as a precaution, in case Eliott falls asleep and Lucas isn’t here when he wakes up. “Is that okay?”

Eliott shifts his gaze to look at him. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

But there’s something gripping his chest, and suddenly Lucas just wants to reach out and touch , reach out and ground himself to Eliott here , as they lay side by side and Eliott rides out the storm. But he can’t, not yet, not like this. It wouldn’t be fair.

Instead he settles for something he can do.

“Can I give you a hug?” he whispers and Eliott turns to him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Can I give you a hug? You know, like how you did for me that one time?”

The more Eliott looks at him, the more Lucas is regretting saying anything at all but then Eliott’s face is splitting into a soft smile and he’s looking, really looking at Lucas in a way Lucas isn’t used to.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

So Lucas shifts, pulling the hoodie more tightly around himself, putting the hood on and pulling on the ties a little, pulling the sleeves down over his hands. And Eliott shifts too, moving to sit up a bit, to settle in closer to Lucas. Lucas reaches out, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck and pulling him close, and Eliott’s arms find Lucas’ waist, wrapping securely around it. Eliott’s face tucks into Lucas’ neck, into the fabric that separates them and Lucas holds on.

He never wants to let go.

They hold each other as a moment passes and then another. And then Eliott whispers something into the space between Lucas’ neck and his shoulder and Lucas almost misses it, but not quite.

“Thank you for being here.”

There’s something raw in his voice, a hidden fear that Lucas hasn’t seen before, hasn’t been witness to, but is there all the same. And Lucas knows that despite everything he’s been telling himself, despite his best efforts, he might not ever stop loving Eliott. But, really, it might not be the worst thing.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he breathes back.

***

Lucas sees Manon the next day, another afternoon of drinking tea in her apartment that Lucas has come to love. They talk briefly about school and classes but Lucas is fidgety and Manon can always tell when something is going on with him.

“Okay, spill,” Manon says, nudging Lucas’ leg with her foot. “What’s going on with you?”

For a brief moment Lucas contemplates lying to her, telling her it’s nothing, but he knows, in the end, he won’t.

“Eliott,” he says softly, his stomach flipping at the mention of him.

Manon raises her eyebrow at him. “Eliott?”

“Yeah,” Lucas replies. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Lucas.”

“But I can’t have him.”

“Why not?”

Lucas sighs, exasperated and long and drawn out. “Because he wants his soulmate, Manon, and I can’t be the person he’s with while he’s waiting.”

“How do you know you’re not his soulmate?” Manon asks, her voice low, her eyes searching Lucas’ face.

“The chances of that are astoundingly low.”

“But there’s a chance.”

Lucas wishes his heart didn’t pick up at the mere mention of that. Because he can’t let himself hope, can he? It might crush him if it turns out to be wrong. “Maybe, but, what if I’m not?”

“Would you still love him?”

“Yes,” Lucas replies. “Always.”

Manon smiles at him, a small smile she tends to reserve for times she thinks Lucas is being stubborn. “Then maybe you should give Eliott a chance to make that decision for himself.”

Lucas sighs. “So you think I should tell him?”

“I think it’ll hurt more if you don’t.”

***

It’s been a week since Eliott’s down days and Lucas has been texting him, checking in to make sure he’s alright. They’ve seen each other once during the week, when Lucas brought him some class notes and takeout and they’d sat on Eliott’s couch and watched a movie and it all felt like it had before.

But Lucas knows it can’t stay that way forever. Ever since his conversation with Manon, he knows he needs to talk to Eliott, needs to say something to him or he’s afraid he’ll never be able to move past it. And the last thing he needs is to get his heart broken in a year or two when Eliott finally finds his soulmate. If he’s getting his heart broken, it’s happening now.

He’s made plans with Eliott that weekend – grabbing coffee and homework and Lucas is planning to tell him then, he really is, but it seems like the universe isn’t quite done fucking with him just yet.

Instead, on Friday, when Lucas is dragged to yet another party with his friends, he sees Eliott there, noticing him after he’s already had a drink or two, sending butterflies soaring in his stomach.

Eliott had told Lucas he was planning on going out with Idriss, ready to blow off some steam after his hard time nearly a week ago, but Lucas hadn’t thought they’d end up at the same party. Though now that he thinks about it, it shouldn’t be that surprising, seeing as they do run in the same social circles.

When Lucas sees him, Lucas is where he normally is at parties – hidden in a corner, beer in hand, hoodie pulled up around his face, sleeves pulled down so that no skin is visible. It’s a habit – one born out of self preservation and it’s yet to die.

Eliott...is not where he usually is at parties. Usually Eliott stations himself near the door, greeting as many people as he can as they walk in and or as they leave. It’s a good plan, for someone who wants to touch as many people as they can. But tonight Eliott has tucked himself in by the couch, surrounded by people Lucas vaguely recognizes as his friends from class, Idriss also standing there next to him.

It’s a sharp contrast to see Eliott like that – more quiet and subdued. Usually Eliott at parties is loud and bright and burning, the star at the center of a solar system. Lucas would know: he spent months hating him for it. But now, today, Eliott is more subdued. A star still, yes, burning just as brightly to Lucas, shining just as strong. But now it’s less like Eliott’s a puppet master and more like he’s letting the world move around him. And he’s not touching people. If anything, he’s avoiding them. Lucas doesn’t know what to make of it.

Maybe it’s the beer talking, though really it was inevitable, but suddenly Lucas gets a surge of courage, and tells himself that the next time Eliott extracts himself from the crowd to go to the kitchen or the bathroom, Lucas will go over there, and make sure Eliott sees him, really sees him. Hell, maybe he’ll just walk over and kiss him, throw words out the window.

His heart is beating fast and loud.

Lucas watches as Eliott unfolds himself from the couch, his long legs stretching out as he takes one step and then another, moving around the crowd of people to the back of the couch, not yet seeing Lucas. Lucas feels his muscles itch, like they’re ready to take a step, move him towards Eliott.

And then someone familiar is walking up to Eliott, pressing a kiss to Eliott’s cheek and making Eliott throw back his head as he laughs. Lucille.

Lucas feels the panic well up again and suddenly all the confidence he’s been building the past few days vanishes. He’s being so stupid thinking someone like Eliott could ever love him, could ever even want him. Telling Eliott how he feels will just ruin what they do have, and that’s the last thing Lucas wants.

Lucas turns to leave, fight his way out of the party because he can’t be here anymore, can’t be forced to watch the boy he loves surrounded by people who are better for him, people he actually should be with.

But then he’s coming face to face with a body, connected to a face Lucas has seen before smirking down at him. Lucas recognizes him from one of his classes, thinks his name might be Todd, or Tom, or something like that, but they’ve never spoken before. Why would they?

“Excuse me,” Lucas says and he tries to maneuver around the guy, heading towards the exit, but then the guy throws out an arm, blocking Lucas’ path and Lucas flinches at how close his bare skin comes to him.

“Hey,” the boy slurs, leaning closer to Lucas and Lucas panics taking a step back. “I think we have a class together.”

“Maybe,” Lucas replies, looking around for an easy way to get out of this situation, but finding none as Todd or Tom takes a step closer. “Sorry I have to go–”

“You’re that kid who doesn’t let anyone touch him,” the boy says, triumphant. “You’re kind of hot.”

Lucas doesn’t reply, but something akin to fear wells up in him.

“What do you say you let me touch you, and then you can touch me?” the boy continues, his intentions obvious as he leans closer to Lucas’ face.

“Please stop,” Lucas says, his voice weak, as he hugs his sweatshirt closer. “Please get away from me.”

“Oh come on baby,” the boy says again, reaching out a hand. “It’s just one touch.”

And Lucas freezes. He doesn’t know what to do, where to run. Instead, Lucas closes his eyes, flinching as the boy reaches out to touch his cheek.

And suddenly the shadow above him is gone.

“He said to leave him alone,” a voice says roughly, coming from beside Lucas. “I suggest you listen to him.” And Lucas knows that voice, he’ll always know that voice.

Lucas opens his eyes to find Eliott standing there, roughly holding the boy’s wrist from where he’s wrenched it away from Lucas’ face. The boy is grimacing in discomfort as Eliott holds his wrist at an uncomfortable angle.

“You’re gonna leave him alone,” Eliott says slowly, firmly. “And you’re going to apologize. Do you understand?”

The boy nods rapidly. “Jesus, yes, okay?” Seemingly satisfied, Eliott releases his wrist, and the boys snatches it back, rubbing it slightly as he turns towards Lucas. “Sorry,” he says and then he turns, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Eliott quickly turns towards him. “Are you okay?”

Lucas nods his head a little frantically. “Yes,” he says. And then– “Thank you.”

And it’s funny, because the last time Eliott did anything like this, the last time Eliott tried to protect him, it had pissed Lucas off so much he’d yelled at him on the streets of Paris, had burned the blood in his veins, had made him so inordinately angry he’d lashed out.

But this time, this time it’s different. Because standing here, seeing Eliott regard him with a gentle kind of worry, a gentle kind of affection that veers slightly too close to what Lucas wishes he was feeling, it hurts . It sets an ache off in his chest and before he can stop them he feels tears pricking at his eyes.

And god, the last thing he needs right now is for Eliott to see him cry, so he looks up, meeting Eliott’s gaze once who gives him a small, reassuring smile and then he’s pushing past him, muttering a I have to go and running out onto the street.

He shouldn’t really be surprised when Eliott follows him.

Eliott shouts after him, but Lucas keeps his head down, willing his legs to carry him faster, his heart hurting so much that Lucas thinks maybe it’s started to break. But Eliott’s legs are longer than his and he’s determined, so Lucas doesn’t make it very far before Eliott catches up to him.

“Hey, hey,” Eliott says, reaching out and briefly touching Lucas’ clothed shoulder to make him stop. “Are you okay? What did that guy say?”

Lucas stops, and then spins around to face Eliott. “I’m not upset about the guy, Eliott. He was an asshole, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He turns to start walking again but Eliott jogs to catch up to him.

“Then what’s wrong?” Eliott asks. “Clearly something’s wrong.”

And Lucas has had enough of this. He can’t do this right now. “Isn’t Lucille waiting for you?” he spits out.

Eliott stops walking. “Lucille?” Eliott asks, something that seems like bewilderment lacing his tone. “Why are you talking about Lucille?

“Aren’t you with her?”

Eliott looks at him incredulously. “No?” He pauses. “I mean, we dated super briefly in high school, but no?” He just stands there, deflated. “Why are you asking?”

Lucas shrugs, turning to face Eliott. “No reason.”

“We broke up when I started getting serious about the whole soulmate thing,” Eliott says, running a hand through his hair. “But I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about that and I’m not sure it makes sense anymore.”

Lucas feels like he might throw up. “ Not being with Lucille, you mean?”

Eliott looks so genuinely confused that something in Lucas’ chest kickstarts. “What? No god, we weren’t right for each other in the end,” Eliott says, his voice shaking, a sincere tenor running through it. “I mean it was good once, but...no, I, uh, I’m never getting back together with Lucille.”

It’s Lucas’ turn to look confused. “What did you mean then?”

“About soulmates,” Eliott says, his voice quiet. He pauses for a moment, eyes searching Lucas’ before he speaks again. “I’m just worried that I might be missing out on something great by focusing so much on it.”

“Okay,” Lucas says, unsure how this has to do with him.

Eliott takes a step closer. “The thing is, I was convinced that a soulmark would be the way for me to know that I deserved love, that the universe wanted me to love,” he says, taking a deep breath. “But, I’ve realized recently that there’s a lot of love in my life that the universe didn’t mark. And it’s still special. To me.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Of course Eliott deserves love, of course people would love him. Lucas is living proof. His heart thuds louder and he just stands there, silent, waiting for Eliott to continue.

Eliott takes another tentative step towards him. “If I’m meant to be with my soulmate, then I will be. But maybe my soulmate is platonic, or maybe I don’t have one at all. And maybe it doesn’t matter. But I’m done waiting.” He looks at Lucas, and there’s something there behind the flashing in his eyes. “What about you?”

Lucas swallows. “What about me?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“You know I’ve never been a fan of waiting on the universe.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh, but it seems to get stuck in his throat and he hasn’t looked away from Lucas, looking at him with an intensity Lucas has never seen before. “And if you didn’t have to wait?” he asks, softly, but Lucas hears every word, his whole body tensing. “If you found someone who would choose you regardless? Would that be enough for you?”

And Lucas can’t do this, his mind is going blank, his brain is shutting down because they cannot be having this conversation, this cannot be what Lucas has been imagining. He has to be understanding something wrong but Eliott is looking at him, really looking at him and Lucas feels like he’s ripped open his chest and laid it bare for Eliott to see.

But then he’s reminded of the worry that’s been plaguing him since his realization. He knows Eliott, knows how this all has been so important to him for so long. But here he is saying it’s maybe not as important as he thought and so Lucas should take that leap, but he needs to know, needs to lay it all out and hear it from Eliott.

“Would it be enough for you ?” he asks.

“Yes,” Eliott says weakly and without hesitation. “I’m beginning to think so.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Instead he huffs and turns, heading back down the street. He picks up his pace, as Eliott trails just behind him.

“You never answered,” Eliott calls out to him and Lucas feels his heart constrict because this is it, this is an opening Eliott is giving him and Lucas should just take it.

He turns to look back at Eliott’s face, his mouth frozen in a tentative smile, the corners turned up in the way that makes Lucas’ heart race.

He opens his mouth and he’s about to answer, he really is: yes, Eliott, that would be enough , when it all happens in very quick succession.

Lucas isn’t paying attention to where he’s going and trips on a loose brick in the sidewalk, pitching forward towards the concrete. He feels Eliott’s strong hand grip his wrist to keep him from falling, to steady him, but the foreign feeling of Eliott’s fingers against Lucas’ skin sets his heart aflame.

Lucas has been doing everything he can to avoid touching Eliott, avoid brushing skin against skin, avoid knowing what they’d be – because he is terrified of the answer. He’s in love with Eliott, he knows, and he’s spent far too many nights in the past week imagining Eliott marking him in shades of red. The idea that he might leave a blue mark on his skin or worse, no mark at all, makes Lucas feel sick.

And yet, despite all that effort, here he is – finding out if Eliott is his soulmate because he’s clumsy. It’s a bit anticlimactic.

It happens quickly – Lucas falling, Eliott catching him.

And then Lucas hears Eliott inhale sharply. Eliott has pulled Lucas to his feet, but hasn’t let go of his wrist, of the space where their skin is touching for the first time. Lucas can’t turn around, he can’t look. He wants to live in that space of blissful ignorance for just one more second. Just one more second.

“Lucas…” Eliott says, but it’s more of a whisper, so soft and feather-light that Lucas can’t be sure he’s heard it at all.

“Lucas.” There it is again, firmer. Eliott calling his name. Eliott daring him to look.

And then the anticipation meets with Lucas’ denial and it’s too much really, the not-knowing. So he turns around.

And there, at the space where Eliott’s fingers are grasped around Lucas’ wrist, Lucas sees something spreading across his skin. It doesn’t move far outside of Eliott’s grip, but it’s enough that Lucas can see it there, see the light it’s giving off in the dark night as Lucas and Eliott stand frozen on the sidewalk.

And there’s relief, in Lucas’ heart, because Eliott has left something on his wrist, has made his mark after all. But there’s confusion too. Lucas and Eliott are silent, both of them unable to tear their eyes away from the place that Eliott’s fingers have touched.

“Is that...?” Lucas asks, trailing off, his voice sounding weak and unsure.

“It must be,” Eliott responds. “But I’ve never seen that before.”

Because the shape marking Lucas’ skin is neither red, like the mark of a romantic soulmate, nor blue, like the mark of a platonic one.

It’s gold. Bright, shining, radiant gold.

#skam france #elu fic #skamfr #elu #please show up in the tag #😉#fwog #my writing

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waejinyoung · 4 years

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 6

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: dont hate me pls, i swear Jinyoung is okay... kinda. yall gonna hate me for this ending too

warning: swearing, hospital setting, mentioning of injuries

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP .7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

The day started well but it didn’t last long. The call from Jooheon led the day to plummet into a shit hole. The eco hotel was now under your guys’ belt but Jinyoung was now a patient in the local hospital. Shit really hit the fan.

Monday Afternoon

You had rushed back into the meeting room and said your apologies to both Beck and Mr Chan. You were sure this was a good enough reason to rush out of an important meeting like this one. You took note to let them both know the reason why you had to leave once things had died down.

Now you were at the hospital outside of Jinyoung’s room waiting for the doctor to come out. What could have gone wrong for him to be hospitalised?

“Miss?” The doctor left Jinyoung’s room and saw your concerned frame.

“Yes. Is Jinyoung okay?”

“His condition is currently stable. We are running some scans to check his condition. We’ll be able to comment in better detail once the results are out.”

“What did he come to the hospital with?” She looked up at you after rereading Jinyoung’s record.

“It looks like he was strangled. He also seemed to have taken a great impact in his right eye, he mentioned momentarily not seeing hence why we need to run some things.”

“Doc, you’re telling me he was strangled and punched.”

“Not punched. He was strangled up against a wall to the point where he passed out. The suspect left him to drop causing the patient’s eye to collide with a surface.” You understood the collision analysis. It was possible to hit something when falling in the leisure centre. Stairs, fencing, shower steps, (etc).

“And have the authorities found out who did it?”

“A male by the name of Max Poach. He had some minor scratches, most likely by Mr Park whilst trying to resist the strangling although I can’t confirm. He’s in a check-up room near reception for your interest.” Your face dropped. He took it this far…

With that the doctor went back to doing her rounds leaving you to process all of what you just heard. Max left Jinyoung there passed out? He took whatever it he was building up inside, all the rage and anger and acted so viciously all for what? You didn’t even know if you could step inside Jinyoung’s room. Whilst you were debating with your head in your knees on your seat you heard a load of rushing footsteps coming your way. You couldn’t even bother lifting your head up to see who they were. They stopped in front of you before entering the room. Who did you have to confront?

“Y/N?” Sounds like Mark.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.” Mark looked at Jaebeom who was beside him. The rest stayed at JYP to continue with their company meeting. If it was a serious case under their judgement they decided they would call the rest to come.

“How is he?” You picked up on Jaebeom’s presence too.

“I just came.. I-I don’t…” You started sobbing. You couldn’t bring yourself to enter the room. You didn’t want to see the damage done to someone you… you didn’t even know… did you love him?

“Shhh… Y/N. None of this is your fau-“ Mark tried to calm you down but you predicted this phrase to escape his mouth.

“It is Mark. These two know of each other because of me. They had a serious fight because of me. If I was just there today… may-maybe just maybe I could have stopped it.”

“You weren’t teaching today?” Jaebeom was confused.

“I-I had a meeting with that important client I men-mentioned last time we met. Usually when I don’t come to lessons, Max takes over. Jooheon, my boss, rang to say everything was fine but it’s not f-fine.” You were practically crying at this rate. You couldn’t believe things had gone too far. You imagine what sort of hopeless situation Jinyoung must have been in. Strangled and left passed out. It just triggered you to cry more.

“Y/N. Me and Jaebeom are going to go inside. You can join us soon once you’ve calmed down and ready, okay?” Mark kneeled down to your level and made sure to make eye contact, you looked up at both of them and gave them a slight nod.

“Just knock and we’ll be there. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this Y/N.” Jaebeom patted your head as they passed you and entered the room.

THIRD PERSON POV

Mark and Jaebeom entered the room slowly just in case Jinyoung was asleep resting. This wasn’t the case. Jinyoung was up and turned his head slowly towards his members.

He had bandaging wrapped around his neck restraining him from any sudden movements. Packed cushioning on his right eye held by some more bandaging. The colour from his face had drained. He was already pale but now he was just like a sheet of paper. He looked ill. The life out of him sucked out. What the fuck had Max done…

“Before you ask, yes she’s here. She’s trying to muster up the courage to come in. She’ll be here once she’s ready.” Max beat Jinyoung to his question.

“I don’t blame her. Look at me.” Jinyoung signalled at his battered state.

“We all know you could have retaliated but it’s too risky. You have a lot on the line. The group being one of them so thank you.” Jaebeom grabbed a chair and sat near Jinyoung.

“Next time beat the shit out of him though. You have our permission. I don’t care what we have to go through to clear your name. You’re still human at the end of the day, you don’t deserve to be treated like this.” Mark bursted in anger. His duality would scare anyone. He entered calm and composed only to set alight as soon as he spoke. He wasn’t having it.

“Will there even be a n-next time? He was caught on camera. I overheard the d-doctors talking about officers b-beside him throughout his check-up.” Jinyoung spoke. His voice sounded groggy.

“He’ll probably just be charged or some sort of warning. He’ll probably be sacked too, he works with people, I’m sure the centre won’t let him continue.” Jaebeom gathered.

“This guy must be a maniac. He just ruined his life over a female. I know you have an interest in her, but you need to think for yourself before anyone else.” Mark clarified. He didn’t get why someone would resort to violence without trying to sort out the situation like civil people. Similar to Y/N’s thought.

“She must be so conflicted.” Jinyoung struggled to voice his opinion. It hurt for him to speak. He just hoped his vocal cords weren’t damaged, nothing permanent at least. Doc said she’d clarify him of the results to confirm any damage, aware of his profession. Singing is his life; He wasn’t going to lose his pride possession that easily.

“If she comes, can you guys give us some time?” The other two nodded.

“Your life was on the line yet you’re here thinking about her. You’re not just interested bro, you’re whipped.” Jaebeom gave a sneaky smirk trying to lighten the mood up. Jinyoung’s expression changed showing some form of life; He smiled knowing what Jaebeom had said was right.

“What did the doctor say?” Mark was still really concerned.

“V-vocal cords. She’s checking them.”

“Fuck my life. It’s that bad. Should I ring the others to come?”

Jinyoung waved his hands no, “I-I don’t want to handle questions. I-I can barely speak.”

Suddenly the 3 guys turned their heads due to a click near the door. Y/N had built up courage to check Jinyoung’s condition. She had enough of imagining and just wanted to know how bad he was.

Y/N’S POV

You took a deep breath in. You could do this. You would have to see him at one point anyways so just do it now instead of eating away on your own sanity. With that, you got a good grip of the door handle and pushed the door open.

“… I-I can barely speak.” You heard the ending of a sentence by a croaky voice. It started to settle in even more how bad Jinyoung’s condition was.

You could only see the edge of Jinyoung’s bed when you entered but you made instant eye contact with Mark. He gave you a reassuring smile which prompted you to walk in a little further.

“We’ll be outside.” Mark signalled his head towards the door to Jaebeom. Jaebeom got the idea of who had entered the room.

The two walked past you. Jaebeom gave you a brotherly pat on the shoulder as they left. You could do this.

You took small steps to the corner that would reveal Jinyoung fully. You revealed your head around the corner to see Jinyoung laying there but you couldn’t handle the site. You retracted back to hiding. You were going to converse from here if you had to.

“Does it hurt?” You didn’t even know what to say.

“No.” Jinyoung was trying he best not to sound hurt so you didn’t feel any form of guilt.

“Liar.” But you were too smart.

“A little.”

“Hmm… I’ll save you the talk then. I know how much I’ve apologised to you since we’ve met, and you’ve mentioned how you don’t want me to apologise for others’ actions. B-but Jinyoung I’m so sorry.” You crouched down with your back against the wall. Jinyoung could hear your sobbing.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m s-sorry I didn’t tell you I-I wouldn’t be in today. I should have got in contact.” You had lost it again.

Jinyoung couldn’t handle not being able to hug you in his embrace. He didn’t like how hopeless he was in his hospital bed. He wanted to shh you and tell you to not apologise. He wanted to tell you what was on his mind, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

“Y-Y/N.” Jinyoung heard your sobs hold back when you heard your name.

You looked up as he called your name. It reminded you of when he called your name for the first time. You liked the sound of your name when he said it.

“Hmm.” You hummed in response.

“C-come here.”

You were hesitant but it wasn’t the best thing to not listen to Jinyoung right now. You got back onto your feet and peaked at Jinyoung around the corner again. He was directly looking at where you would show up. You weren’t able to make eye contact with him as you walked to the seat Jaebeom had pulled to Jinyoung’s bed. Your eyes were glued to the floor.

“L-look at me Y/N.” You knew the reason why his sentences were more demanding. He could barely speak so he kept it short. You looked up at the one eye that wasn’t covered. He met your watery eyes. He wouldn’t think to see you crying again after the day you stepped between him and Max. He made a promise to himself to make you smile no matter the situation.

“I-I’ll definitely be drowning now, won’t I?” You couldn’t believe he was making a swimming joke at this moment. You let out a chuckle more because you were shocked at this comment.

“Seriously… you’re making a joke at this point of your life.”

“It’s p-perfect timing. I get to see you smile; it suits you... to smile.” His comment towards your smile made you smile even more.

“It suits you too… to smile.” You took a hold of his hand and rubbed your thumb against his knuckles. You let out another chuckle because of the size difference between your hands.

“What?”

“I understand why people say I have small hands.” You lined up your hand and Jinyoung’s hand together and showed him the big difference. He smiled at your innocence and purity.

“You know what they say about big hands.” You mouth fell agape. Was he making dirty jokes in this current situation as well?

“I thought Jaehyun was bad.” He chuckled but it hurt for it to last long. He winced at the pain.

“You good? Should I call a nurse?” Jinyoung waved you no.

“It’s expected. Waiting for results now.” You nodded wishing that the results would be out at this very moment.

“I’ll ask what happened between you two when you’re better. I don’t want to cause even more damage to what has already been done.”

He gave you that gaze again. Taking responsibility for others’ actions. He hated it.

The door opened and the doctor from earlier walked back in.

“Hello Mr Park. Feeling any better?”

“Barely.” You looked back down again, eyes glued on the floor.

“Results are not out yet. I was going to check if you could consume food or if we’ll need to feed you through a syringe. I’ve bought some soup from the cafeteria. Miss can help you to see if you can eat.” You looked up at the tray in the doctor’s hand and took it from her. You gave her a nod.

“I’ll let you know if he’s able to eat the soup. I’ll press the buzzer to have you notified.”

“Great. I wish you a quick recovery Mr Park.”

The doctor left the room. Jinyoung didn’t have a ‘time to drink soup’ face on but you were going to convince him no matter what.

“Don’t even think of not having this soup. I’ll try my best not to mum you, but you heard the doc.”

“Mum me… I-I don’t mind.” You scooped a spoon full of the soup and blew a little on it (not advised during the periods of COVID-19, take care of yourselves).

“Open up. Try your best.” He swallowed the soup and his arm gripped your arm due to the pain. The instant reflex caught you off guard and you felt sorry for the pain he was feeling.

“Doable?”

You looked up at his one eye ready with another scoop. He nodded wanting to try once more. Yet again he winced in pain with the same reflex.

“Syringe?” He nodded again. You pressed the buzzer on the wall and the doctor was back again soon after.

“I don’t think Mr Park will get through a bowl of soup without a lot of pain. I think the syringe will be better.” The doctor took note on Jinyoung’s record and called in a nurse about the syringe hours.

“Thanks doctor.” You liked the kind and keen approach she had towards her job.

“It’s our job Miss.” The doctor then left the room.

You looked back at Jinyoung only to see him staring right through you. He wanted to ask you why you weren’t in and luckily you owed him an explanation.

“I wasn’t in for the lesson because I had a project meeting with the hotel client I mentioned on Friday. Whenever I’m not in lessons, Max covers for me since he’s the only teacher free during that period. I gave Jooheon a ring and he told me not to worry and just concentrate on the meeting. I was going to tell you prior to the lesson but I had so much to do over the weekend for this meeting that it went over my head. I’m so- “

“Don’t.” You stopped in your tracks. Right don’t apologise for everything.

“How d-did it go?”

“It went really well. He mentioned the…” You trailed off having realised that you had completely forgotten about the news that was published across all platforms.

“The news?�� So, he was aware?

“To our luck he actually seemed fond of the news. He even bought flowers as a congratulations gift which was a little odd. I did break it to him what the actual truth was, but he was happy regardless. We swiftly moved onto the project and he was really happy with the outcome. The hotel will be built for 2022 and construction starts really soon.”

He felt like a proud mum. He wished he could go on and on about how proud he was of your achievement, but his current state wouldn’t allow him.

“I-I’m sorry for the n-news.” This was different, he was the one apologising this time.

“I would say that it’s fine, but I have to be honest it’s not. My phone has been going off since the meeting from random numbers and my company entrance was filled with paparazzi right before the meeting. I haven’t got back to my friends or family because god knows where to start.”

“My manager will h-handle it. Y-you shouldn’t have to go through this c-crap.” You guessed that the news will be taken down or some sort of announcement will be made by his side to clear it up.

“That’s good to know. I’m going to give the meeting holders a quick ring, I left abruptly after hearing Jooheon over the phone. Give me a second.”

You got off from the chair and gave Beck a ring whilst gazing out the window. This was so hectic.

“Hey Y/N, is everything okay?” Beck sounded so worried on the other end of the line.

“Hi Beck, you’re going to have to go alone with Mr Chan. I won’t be able to make it. Let him know that I’ll make it up to him but I’m at an emergency situation right now. I’ll talk to you later too. I owe you one.”

“Understood. Don’t drain yourself out with whatever it is. Me and Mr Chan will be fine. We seem to have caught him on a happy day anyways, don’t worry.” You knew you could always count on Beck.

“That’s great. Make sure to forward him my apologies. Have fun.” You hung up the phone and returned back to Jinyoung’s side.

“You should g-go.” Jinyoung spoke up.

“You want me to go to a meal knowing that you’re being fed through a needle looking out the window with only one eye. I don’t think so Jinyoung.” It was unfortunately the bitter truth. He read your face well and you weren’t up for listening to him right now.

For the rest of that day you were with Jinyoung. Every time the nurses would come to change his bandaging you’d have to step out. You couldn’t bear to look at what Max had done to Jinyoung. You’d always ask the nurses as they left if there were any signs of healing, but they’d just say it’s too early to tell. Later on, in the evening the rest of the guys came by and stayed with Jinyoung. You would also leave then, to give them time to have their talks.

Monday Evening

“Y/N, I’m sure Jinyoung wouldn’t like to see you slaving away in the corridors of a hospital. Why don’t you head home and rest up? You can come back in the morning to check up on him.” Mark stepped out of the room and started to get worried at how long you hadn’t eaten and gotten some rest.

“Mark, I’m really not in the mood. I’ll just end up procrastinating at home and get even more worried. Sleep definitely won’t be visiting me tonight if anyhwere but at this hospital.” Mark shook his head, understanding where you were coming from.

“I’m going to stay over the night. You guys can all go. He’s in good hands. Here’s my number. You can contact me if anything’s up and I’ll make sure to pick up.” You handed over your business card which had your contact details on it to Mark.

“We’ll be leaving in 5. Make sure to get some rest too. I don’t want another casualty in our hands.” He smiled trying to make you feel better.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of both of us.”

Like Mark had said, 5 minutes later the boys departed from the hospital informing you to get in contact with them if anything in the slightest happens. You said your goodbyes and they were off. You returned back into Jinyoung’s room to see his eyes shut.

Hes had a rough day. A really rough day. It’s weird how both of your days started of normal only to stoop to a miserable level. It’s expected for him to be tired. Now was the time for him to get some rest in order to recover. You just hoped that no permanent damage was done, or you won’t be able to forgive yourself until the day you die. You were willing to be by his side until he was fully recovered. Stay beside him and even have him in your own home so you can nurse him easily. You could hear his light snoozing as he drifted into a deeper sleep.

The nurse came in to check everything for the evening. She noticed the patient asleep so toned down her voice.

“Miss, would you like us bring in a portable guest bed?”

“If it won’t cause much hassle and noise, then that would be great. Thank you.” The nurse smiled and left the room to bring you your bed.

…

Your bed arrived with its sheets and a plump pillow on top. The hospital even had some pyjamas laid out on the bed for you to change into. You used the on suite bathroom to change into the pjs. You had taken off your makeup with the cleansing wipes you always carried with you and sat on the bed.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Jinyoung. The poor man went through such a traumatic day with you being the cause of it all. You slowly got off the bed avoiding any creaky noises from the springs and kneeled down, so you were level with Jinyoung’s face. You brushed the strands of hair that were covering his face to aside. He looked effortless even in this state. Not many could achieve. You lighted stroked his cheek feeling his warm skin which had gained more colour compared to what it looked like at first. His calm sleep self gave you so much to look at. His perfect proportions, short but cute eyelashes, noticeably larger but cute ears and his lips. Oh, how much you wanted them to make contact with yours again, just like they did in the sand that day. You were sure he felt the same, there was no denying.

JINYOUNG’S POV

You were sure she thought you were sleep. Her presence was near enough for you to guess the difference between you two. 10cms apart from someone you gave so much care about. 10cms away from someone you were sure you could say, you loved. No matter how early it may be, you knew from the start that she was the one. You were just too hesitant on things moving quickly. This injury being one factor that’ll definitely be slowing down anything from progressing quickly, deterred you from that happening.

You really wanted to open your eyes. To look into the deep world that her eyes held and be her guardian angel. To tell her how much she’s been on your mind since the first encounter. Whilst you were running through the things you wanted to say to Y/N, you felt a gentle peck against your cheek and a whisper.

“What have you done to me silent parrot? Goodnight.”

Silent parrot? You guess that’s something you’ll need to question Y/N on once you’re more able to talk. With that, you sensed Y/N snuggle into her bed and you decided to do the same. Lots of sleep is going to be needed in order to recover from all the injuries.

Tuesday Morning

You were an early bird. Having the nurses change your syringe and bandaging every so often didn’t exactly help with a consistent sleep. Every night visit by the nurses you’d make sure to ask them to be really silent, so Y/N didn’t wake up.

The clock across you struck 7 am but you didn’t care what the time was because you had a little lamb beside you still fast asleep. She looked so cute. You noticed how true she was about her hands too. They looked tiny as they laid on the pillow next to her face. She was snuggled, hugging her duvet like it was a snuggly toy.

The sun started to peak through the blinds and hit Y/N directly in the face. She should wake up soon, you thought.

Y/N’S POV

You woke up to a small heat against your face and a lightened environment. It was now morning. You rubbed your eyes and slowly opened them. You checked over at the side table and grabbed your glasses to clearly see Jinyoung. He was wide awake.

“G-good morning.” There was a little more life in his voice but still groggy.

“Good morning, did you get some sleep? How do you feel?” You sat up with your legs crossed under the duvet.

“In small dosages, yes. I-I feel a b-bit more rested.” You shot him a smile and got up from your bed due to a knock at the door. Considering it wasn’t a doctor since they didn’t just come in you guessed it was a visitor of some sorts.

“I’ll get it.” You told Jinyoung and opened the door. Jinyoung was able to hear who you were talking to.

“Oh. Hi Mona, I’m guessing Beck sent you with all the things I asked for.”

“Yes Miss. I have your workwear in here and a light breakfast too. I’ve parked your car downstairs so you can get to work with no hassle. If that’s all, I’ll be off.”

You ruffled her hair for being so formal even though you knew each other for the past 4 years, “Stop being so formal. I know you’re my assistant and all but you’re also my friend. If there isn’t much work for you today why don’t you hang around and we can go to work together?”

“I’d love to Miss- “

You chuckled, “Stop with the Miss.”

“Fine. Mr Longing had some tasks planned for me to do when I got back and apparently they are urgent, so I’ll have to decline Y/N. Maybe another time.”

“Bummer. Alright, thank you for helping out. We can have a meal another time. I should be at the company before midday.”

“See you Y/N.” You waved Mona goodbye and headed back into the room. Jinyoung almost had a sulking face on and you never knew you needed to see him pouting in your entire life.

“Are you sulking… by any chance?” You stood at the end of Jinyoung’s bed and looked at his facial expression.

“No.” As he declined your outrageous question, he crossed his arms and looked away from you. You were dealing with grown baby.

“Could it possibly be because I need to head to work?”

“Hmph.” He kept his arms crossed. You didn’t know you’d see him in this way in your life.

If he was playing baby, let’s see what he felt when you told him, “I never really liked guys who sulked.” You weren’t being serious, but you just really wanted to get a reaction out of him.

He uncrossed his arms immediately, “I wasn’t sulking. I was just…”.

“Just?” You got him on edge, and it was funny to see you mostly in control of a situation this time round. He’d usually be the one with the upper hand but not this time. Still no answer.

“Cat caught your tongue Park?” You were having way too much fun.

“Damn. You really don’t like guys who sulk?” You couldn’t hold in the truth any longer.

“I don’t mind Jinyoung. I’m just playing with you.” You chuckled at his defeat.

“Phew. Back to what I was doing,” He crossed his arms again and faced away from you, “Don’t go.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. He just switched back into a baby in milliseconds.

“No wonder why you’re an actor. Acting… shit. What’s going to happen with the drama?” It sunk to you how many things this situation has affected.

“P-postponed.” You felt shit again. He stopped with the sulking at this point and realised your drop in energy.

“Don’t worry about it Y/N. Things will be b-back to normal soon-“

Before Jinyoung could finish his words, his doctor rushed into the room. She seemed like she was out of breath. You looked at Jinyoung and you both eyed the doctor waiting for her to explain her rush.

“Sorry for…the sudden entrance. The… results-“ She was really longing out the news. Was it bad? Was it good? You couldn’t handle her short pauses.

“Can you just say it?”

“Yes… Miss. There’s good and bad news.” You looked at Jinyoung and his face was definitely different to how he was a minute ago. No longer a child but an adult.

“D-doc. Bad n-news first.”

“Mr Park… your vocal cords…” The doctor was also aware of how much Jinyoung’s vocal cords meant.

“Say it, Doc.” Jinyoung couldn’t take it anymore either.

“You won’t be able to sing...”

---

I can already hear all of you hating me for this ending too. I feel so evil. I was planning on continuing but I wanted to be a tease again. You’ll have to be back for the next episode to find out the good news. I wanted to say whilst writing this episode half of the time I was in delulu land. I felt sad having Jinyoung in such a vulnerable situation and thought what it would be like looking after him. I have left that land though, much healthier not thinking delulu.

I hope you guys enjoyed!

writer-nim x

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eilonwiiy · 4 years

Text

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 8

When Aeduan’s old partner shows up, he is confronted with a shocking piece of news. Meanwhile, Iseult learns that not talking is just as hard as talking.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

“You surprise me, partner.”

Aeduan’s jaw ticced. He didn’t need to look to know who was behind him.

“Never did hear where you ended up. Not that I asked.”

Slowly, Aeduan turned to face Lizl. She hadn’t changed since he left the force. Her dark hair was pulled in a single tight braid, not a hair out of place, leaving her amber brown face bare. Her badge gleamed against her policeman’s uniform, shiny, like she’d polished it the night before. Aeduan knew that she did. They’d been partners, after all.

As tall as Aeduan was, Lizl was taller. He rolled his gaze upward, expression flat. She was grinning smugly at him, like she’d caught him in a more nefarious act than buying coffee.

“What, no hug?” she asked innocently.

Aeduan didn’t react. “What do you want, Lizl?”

“A cup of coffee.” She folded her arms across her chest. Her posture was deceptive in its casualness. In the 14 years he’d known Lizl, he’d come to know that there wasn’t a relaxed bone in her body. “Turns out this place runs a good bargain.” She gestured to him. “Free refills and a floorshow.”

Lizl’s gaze fell to Owl in his arm and Aeduan watched her expression soften. She may have hated Aeduan’s guts, but there were lines she wouldn’t cross. She wouldn’t pull any shots in front of a child. She held herself to a strict moral code that wasn’t just reserved for convicts. It was one of the things Aeduan respected most about her.

That didn’t mean he had to like her, though.

Aeduan glanced over at the coffee counter. Iseult hadn’t come back yet and some of the tension he’d been holding since Lizl’s surprise appearance loosened. That kid was probably still talking her ear off and for that, he was grateful - even if that did mean she was suffering. He didn’t want her to see him with a cop. For some reason, he cared about what she would think. He didn’t know why, but he did.

“What do you want, Lizl?” he demanded again more firmly.

“Nothing. You’re about the last person I’d ever want to run into,” she answered, a little of her casual exterior slipping. There was a hint of sourness in her tone. Her jaw clenched and unclenched with her lips pressed firmly shut as they stared at each other.

“So,” she finally said. “Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Is what everything I’d hoped it would be?” Aeduan asked, more bored than curious.

“Life without the badge.” Lizl paused. “Or your daddy’s leash.”

So much for that strict moral code.

Aeduan swiped his coffee cup off the counter and, without so much as a glance at Lizl, marched to the door and left the cafe. There were lines Aeduan wouldn’t cross in front of Owl too. If he’d stayed, he might forget that. Besides, he didn’t owe her anything. If anything, he’d done her a favor by walking away - from police force and right now.

It didn’t take long for the bells above the door to Jitters to jingle again.

“I just don’t get it,” Lizl voice knifed through the cold. It had started to flurry. “That job was your life. You were in your dad’s pocket. Set to make detective. Become head of the department when Bastien retired. Why throw it all away?”

“Why do you care?” Aeduan snarled, pivoting and getting right up in her face. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Owl.

Lizl frowned, not the least bit phased by him invading her personal space. “I don’t care. I’m just- confused. You could have had everything.”

“And with me out of the way you can have everything. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Make detective, have a shot at the promotion.” Lizl only stared stonily at him and Aeduan shook his head, expelling some of his frustration and replacing it with exasperation. “I don’t know why you're angry at me. We were never friends.”

Lizl nodded. “Just partners.”

“Exactly. So what is the problem? I thought you’d be happy that I left.”

A bitter laugh burst from Lizl’s mouth. “Happy?” She shook her head at the ground and dug her boot heel into the concrete, leaving little half moons in the thin layer of snow coating the sidewalk. She buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. She seemed to be weighing her options - over what Aeduan had no idea. He just watched, waiting. When Lizl looked up, she was grinning, but there was no amusement in it.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Aeduan’s insides went cold. “What are you talking about?”

Lizl looked off to the side. Something had shifted. The hostility was gone. She just shook her head like she couldn’t get over whatever it was she was about to say. Eventually, she looked him dead in the eye.

“I didn’t make detective.”

A line wedged itself between Aeduan’s eyebrows. He didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but he hadn’t expected that. With or without Aeduan in her way, Lizl was a shoe-in for the job, a star cadet all throughout their time at the academy, second only to Aeduan. No one worked harder than she did. Her not making detective was… inconceivable.

For the first time in months, Aeduan felt the heady rush of a facing puzzle itching to be solved. There had to be some ulterior motive on the line here. She wasn’t giving him the full picture.

“And I didn’t get the promotion.”

Aeduan’s spine straightened. He didn’t like the way Lizl was looking at him. She was still wearing that awful smile that wasn’t a smile. It set his nerves on edge.

“Would you like to know who your father picked for the job?”

Aeduan found himself tensing, bracing for the answer without asking to be told.

“Natan fon Leid.”

Natan fon Leid. It took a whole 5 seconds for the name to sink in. He’d grown into quite the impressive egotistical prick, having been a bully all of Aeduan’s childhood. He’d never really understood how or why the jerk was stationed in the Domestic Violence Unit. He wasn’t exactly a drain on the department, but as far as he could tell, there wasn’t an altruistic bone in Natan’s body. The thought of him running the DVU was unsettling to say the least.

And complete bullshit.

“My father,” Aeduan said, doing nothing to keep the venom out of his voice, “would never replace Bastien with Natan fon Leid. Bastien was a man of honor. Integrity. Natan is nothing more than a power hungry lapdog.”

“I agree,” Lizl responded without blinking an eye. “And now he’s your father’s lapdog.”

Aeduan’s chest puffed out. He hated the way his blood boiled at even the slightest mention of his father, even though they weren’t speaking - even though he had every right to despise him. He still couldn’t temper the urge to come to his defense. And that angered him even more - maybe more than anything Lizl had to say.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out coldly. There wasn’t much else he could do with Owl curled into his chest.

“Ask him,” Lizl simply replied, ununciating each word crisp and cool. It sounded more like a challenge than a suggestion.

He’d do no such thing.

Aeduan had never been crazy enough to carry around some fancy notion that being partners had meant anything to Lizl. She’d never liked him. Hated him, even. But they’d worked alongside each other for years and never let their personal feelings get in the way of justice.

The snow was coming down in earnest now. Owl stirred in Aeduan’s arm breaking the tension for them. Lizl’s expression went blank and after a couple seconds of grudging deliberation, she gestured resignedly to her squad car parked by the sidewalk.

“Do you want a ride?” she asked. She sounded tired, like she already knew the answer.

Aeduan didn’t reply. He didn’t say goodbye. He just turned away from Lizl and left her standing on the sidewalk. There was nothing left to say. Not to her, at least.

* . * . * . * .

The new Fiona Apple album thrumming through Iseult's earbuds was doing nothing to cover up the lively debate going on in her head.

For what felt like the first time in forever, Iseult wasn’t working in the Children’s Room, but rather shelving books upstairs as she once used to. She should have been relieved. She could finally have a quiet evening without the stress of worrying about patrons coming up to her with questions or children unexpectedly popping up between bookshelves.

But she wasn’t relaxed. She couldn’t relax, in fact. No, instead, she was torturing herself over whether or not to call Aeduan.

Leave it to her to let a complete stranger ruin her evening of peace. She still carried his phone number from their encounter at Jitters yesterday in the safety of her pocket, and even though the first thing she'd done when she got to work was find his book, she had yet to get in touch with him.

She’d said she would, so she should. But with each hour that passed, it was growing more and more late, and the window of opportunity to call was getting smaller by the second. Surely Aeduan would still be up. But as the clock approached 9, she found herself wishing she had mustered the courage to call him during the day when it was still light outside.

For Iseult, nighttime meant winding down. Eating leftover Arithuanian takeout right out of the carton in her monkey slippers and fuzzy bathrobe. Curling up with a book and falling asleep mid-paragraph with the light on.

But this was Veñaza City and she was some weird anomaly. While she was nose-deep in Joan Didion, some twenty-something year old was taking their third shot of the evening before heading out to a party. While she was setting her phone alarm for 6 a.m., someone was texting their hook-up. While her and Safi fought over who got to take a shower first in the morning, someone was getting thrown out of a bar.

Veñaza was a college town and it was no secret to Iseult that she was living a much less thrilling life than her former peers. While normally that wouldn’t bother her (why submit herself to the experience of doing jello shots when the option to eat a jello cup and not throw up was right there?), wondering if Aeduan shared her nightime habits made her feel self-conscious. He may have had a kid, but that didn’t make him a monk.

She thought about what it would be like dialing his number and him picking up, his voice deep and rough sounding on the other end of the phone. A shiver ran through her. Then nausea.

She couldn’t do it.

Late night phone calls were reserved for hook-ups or emergencies. Not librarians.

She sighed. She was left with two choices:

She could call first thing in the morning. While she had just spent the last hour wondering what Aeduan did at night, this option brought with it another dilemma: how Aeduan spent his mornings. Iseult didn’t know why, but he seemed like the type of guy to start his day early. Down a glass of orange juice, go for a jog around the neighborhood, and be showered and dressed by 7:30 kind of guy.

Iseult shook her head. She really didn’t need to be fantasizing about his morning routine. And she definitely didn’t need to think about him showering. Nope. She definitely wasn’t thinking about him naked and dripping with water.

Stasis, Iseult. Stasis.

Then there was the more tempting and pathetic option: she could scrap calling him altogether. And what great loss would that be really? she thought to herself. It wasn’t like he was sitting by the phone waiting for her call. He probably didn’t even remember asking for the book or giving her his number in the first place. Her stomach dropped at the thought.

She was overthinking this. Big time.

She rolled back to their conversation yesterday and how Cam had interrupted them. She was sure that Aeduan had been about to ask her something just as Cam burst through the door. She didn't hold it against the kid, but she was dying to know what Aeduan was going to say. And then, of course, there was the mystery of the cop. She'd seen them talking outside. By the looks of it, it wasn't a friendly chat. It had ended with Aeduan storming off and the woman cop looking troubled.

Iseult slipped a hand into her pocket and dug out the napkin with Aeduan’s phone number. She unfolded it and looked it over, just as she had the dozen or so times since he’d given it to her. By now she’d memorized the 12 neat letters strung together in broken cursive underneath the number. Aeduan Amalej.

A pulled in a shaky breath and retrieved her phone next. For a paralyzing moment, she held them out in front of her, the number in one hand and her phone in the other. Thinking. Stalling.

“Moon Mother, you are such an idiot,” she muttered to herself before unlocking her phone - her hand shaking with nerves - and punched in Aeduan’s number.

Right into a new text message.

Ok, so she’d told him he’d call him. But this way she didn’t need to find out just how devastating her stutter be over the phone. With her sanity hanging in the balance, copping out of calling was of little consequence. There were way more pathetic things she’d done in her 21 years of living. This wouldn’t be a highlight in her memoirs.

With that in mind, she got to it and prayed that she typed faster than her determination could devolve into an entirely new spiral about whether or not a text was too casual.

* . * . * . * .

Aeduan knew he was in trouble the moment he opened the book.

Chapter One

My Father Meets the Cat

Owl’s eyes had widened as Adeuan read the words and she’d peered up at him from her place under his arm nestled into his side.

It had taken every bit of restraint he had to keep his expression neutral. The librarian just had to pick a book that featured a stray cat.

Iseult had been right though: Owl loved the book. Every night for the last week, Owl would crawl into his bed, make her nest, and sit there, impatiently waiting for him to finish meditating and running through his nightly stretches. He made sure to take his time; he wasn’t about to teach Owl that she could get anything she wanted just by giving him those sad puppy eyes of hers. He'd had plenty of practice resisting those eyes with Cora, who as a little more needy than Lisbet; Owl was powerless over him. Most of the time.

Meditation was an important, albeit unexpected, part of Aeduan’s life. It was the one lesson from Evrane that actually stuck. Sometimes he wondered why, out of everything, this one practice never wavered. Over the years, it had become more than a ritual in calming the body and quieting the mind. It had become his anchor. Something he depended on. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that how he started and ended his day was the one thing he had true control over. He'd been taught early in life that there was no prelude to change. If he could hold on to this one thing, he would.

Luckily for Owl, he was done with meditating for tonight. Even with his years of practice, he hadn’t found much solace in it. He couldn’t get what Lizl told him yesterday out of his head.

He had told himself to forget about it the moment he’d walked away. That the police department wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d left for a reason, and even if he tried to convince himself that it was all because of Owl, he knew deep down that that wasn’t true.

Storming away from Lizl had felt good. Right. But now…

Doubt plagued his every thought. He couldn’t shake it off. This feeling that Lizl was telling the truth. They’d never liked each other, but he knew that - just like him - she respected him enough to trust him on the job. He saw it in the moments that mattered most. She was one of the good ones.

And the fact remained that Lizl wasn’t a manipulator. It wasn’t in her nature. Why bother with mind games when honesty landed harder? There really wasn’t any reason for her to lie to him. So that meant what she’d told him was the truth.

But why? Why would his father give Natan the job? He was an unmitigated piece of shit and Ragnor had always shown very little tolerance for unmitigated pieces of shit. If his father had promoted Natan to the top spot, then he had a reason. A good one.

He should just forget it, he told himself for the hundredth time.

For the next half hour, Aeduan found his mind wandering, even as he read aloud, and it was some time before he realized that Owl had drifted off to sleep.

He sighed, letting his head drop against the headboard, and the book propped up in his hand fell closed against the comforter with a soft thwump. He stared at the opposite wall, knowing he should transfer Owl to her own bed before it got any later, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move.

Lizl. Ragnor. Natan. Their names were an endless chant in his head. A chant that rang of doubt and the promise of another sleepless night for Aeduan.

There was only one way to put an end to the madness. He’d need to go directly to the source: his father.

The thought alone was enough to make Aeduan want to slide down his mattress and pull the covers over his head. He didn’t, of course. But the impulse was there, as embarrassing as that was.

It’d been 3 long months since he’d last seen his father. 3 months since he’d marched into his office, left his gun and badge on his desk, and walked out of his life. Ragnor hadn’t even tried to get in touch with him since. Aeduan hadn’t expected him to.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. Hurt, probably. His father’s silence was louder than most. But Aeduan was the last bit of Dysi left on this earth. Had it been easy for his father to let go of his only son? He’d done that with everything else that reminded him of Dysi after she’d passed, so why not him too?

Pressure pounded behind Aeduan’s eyes. His head ached. Not getting more than an hour or two of sleep the night before must have been catching up to him. Maybe he’d just let Owl stay in his bed. If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to be alone right now.

A soft chime broke the silence in the bedroom. Curious, Aeduan turned to his nightstand where the sound had come from. His phone softly glowed with activity and he could see the animated little envelope on the screen that meant he had a new text message. Careful not to disturb Owl, he reached for the phone and grabbed it from the stand. He settled back against his pillows, expecting to see something from Lisbet, the only person he had the patience to text with - even if she did bombard him with memes he didn’t understand. Before even opening the message, he was all ready to tell her to get off her phone and go to bed.

But it wasn’t Lis.

It was an unknown number. He frowned. But then he read the message, and he realized who it was. His heart stopped.

Unknown Number – 9:07 PM

>> I found the book you wanted. I put it on hold for you. You can come pick it up anytime.

>> (Hi. This is Iseult from the library.)

Without even realizing it, the noise in Aeduan’s head faded to nothing. Iseult had said she’d let him know about the book, but he was still surprised to hear from her. And - he thought, checking the time - so late.

He reread the message a couple more times before clicking the screen off. He was about to return his phone to the nightstand when he paused.

He should probably respond with… something.

Aeduan pulled his hand back, easing back on to his pillows, and opened the message. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. His eyes flicked to Owl, dead asleep next to him, then he began typing.

Aeduan - 9:18 PM

>> Ok.

Well. Ok then. Obligation fulfilled.

Aeduan took off his reading glasses and stowed them along with his phone on his nightstand before he switched off the lamp, plunging the room in darkness. He settled beneath his covers and rested his head on his pillow. He felt the ball of warmth that was Owl curled up beside him. Moonlight streamed in from the windows, and for a few quiet minutes, he watched the snow falling outside.

An hour later, Aeduan rolled over and reached for the phone on his nightstand.

Aeduan - 10:16 PM

>> I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.

#the witchlands #witchlands #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #lizl #iseult x aeduan #truthwitch #bookends #my fic #mine

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ofstormsandwolves · 4 years

Text

Send My Love

Teen

Zoey x Joan

Follow-up to I’ll Stand By You and Hot for Teacher (first two installments of ‘what the heart wants (or, Zoey’s Extraordinary Gaylist)’)

Canon divergence, canonical character death (Mitch), angst, emotional hurt/ comfort.

Synopsis: Zoey and Joan have admitted their feelings, but now they have to navigate Mitch's final hours, a funeral, and two (potentially) jealous men...

Read on AO3

Zoey Clarke felt sick. One moment she and Joan had been at her apartment, laughing and chatting, and the next she was scrambling to find her shoes and dash out the door.

The day had come.

One fateful phone call from Howie, and the entirety of Zoey’s life had been tipped upside down. To Joan’s credit, she had grabbed her car keys and steered the redhead down the stairs and into her car, plopping her in the passenger seat before calmly sliding behind the wheel.

They talked very little on the drive to the Clarke house, a stark contrast to the giggling conversations they’d been having barely half hour before, and Joan only spoke to ask Zoey for directions. There was surprisingly little traffic, but the sky was already dark when they pulled up outside Mitch and Maggie’s house, but Zoey barely seemed to notice.

“Zoey?” Joan prompted gently. “We’re here.”

Zoey startled, and blinked at her parents’ house. “Oh.” She unclipped her seatbelt and slid from Joan’s car. She was still feeling somewhat nauseous, and as she stood at the end of the path leading to the front door, she found she couldn’t quite bring herself to move.

Joan’s hand slipped into hers, warm and soft and reassuring. Oh yeah, Zoey thought, I’m not alone. She looked across to her partner- and didn’t that still feel odd?- and saw Joan smiling gently at her. Taking a breath, Zoey squared her shoulders and led the other woman towards the house.

It was Howie who let them in, smiling at Zoey and quietly introducing himself to Joan with a handshake. When Maggie called for Zoey to join them in the kitchen, the redhead turned to look at her partner with a small frown.

“Go on, I’ll wait here,” Joan promised quietly.

Joan waited until Howie and Zoey had disappeared into the kitchen to pull out her phone. Dialling a number, she spared a glance into the sitting room where Mitch was, waiting for the caller to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Max, it’s Joan,” she said, trying to keep her voice quiet enough that she wouldn’t disturb Zoey or her family.

“Oh, uh, hi Joan. Listen, if this is about Ava firing me-”

“Uh, no. No, it’s not. Although- I am sorry about that, Max. I can see if I can pull a few strings, hire you back-”

“I’m not sure,” Max admitted. “I mean, unless you could offer me a leadership position. I don’t think I want to go back to being just a coder. I’ve actually been looking at other jobs-”

Joan saw a dark-haired man- presumably Zoey’s brother- walk out of the kitchen then, visibly upset, and she remembered just why she’d called Max. “Um, Max, I was actually calling about Zoey. Well, uh, Zoey’s dad. He’s not doing well, and I think Zoey would want you to know. I know you and she are close.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone then, and for a moment Joan thought Max had hung up.

“Oh god,” Max muttered after a long while. “Uh, thanks for letting me know, Joan. I have to go.”

And then Max hung up. Pursing her lips, Joan slipped her phone back into her pocket, turning to see Zoey walking towards her.

“How are you?” she asked quietly.

Zoey shrugged, her eyes a little damp. “David and Emily are gonna go talk with Dad. I told them I could wait.” She spared a glance towards the sitting room, watching as her brother and sister-in-law approached Mitch. Then she looked back to Joan, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t know if I can bear it, Joan. I mean, what am I meant to say to him?”

Joan let out a sigh then. “I know it’s difficult. And... I get why you maybe don’t want to talk to him. It’s a huge thing. Emotional. But Zoey, remember what I told you about when my mom died?”

“You were at work,” Zoey recalled. Joan had mentioned her mom before, when Zoey had told her about Mitch’s illness, but only a few days ago she had also revealed that she hadn’t been there when her mom had passed because she was busy at work.

“I never got to say goodbye,” Joan reminded her softly. “For weeks afterwards, all I could think was ‘what if I’d left work just half hour earlier?’, ‘what if I’d asked for a day off?’, ‘what if I’d at least called to see how she was?’. I don’t want you to have regrets like that, Zoey. I know it’s terrifying, and I know it’s a huge pressure, but not saying goodbye to your dad is much, much worse in the long run.”

Zoey sniffled at that, and Joan pulled her in for a hug. They stayed like that for several long moments, before Maggie appeared in the doorway. Seeing the other woman, Joan reluctantly pulled back from Zoey.

“Joan,” Maggie greeted, giving the woman a small smile. Zoey flushed, and Joan shifted uncomfortably, and Maggie seemed faintly amused by it. “Good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” Joan said. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs Clarke.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s Maggie.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Did you want a drink?”

“Oh, I can do that, Mom,” Zoey offered quickly. “Why don’t you-”

“What?” Maggie interrupted quietly. “Sit down? Relax? Watch TV? Zoey, honey, I need to keep busy. This is hard enough as it is. I just... I need to do something.”

Biting her lip, Zoey nodded slowly. “Ok. Coffee would be good, if you’re making it.”

The moment her mom was gone, the redhead turned back to Joan.

“Can I have another hug?” she asked meekly.

Joan gave a sad smile, and Zoey quickly fell into her embrace.

It was nearly half hour later when there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Joan offered quickly as David, Emily, Zoey, and Maggie all looked up in alarm.

She moved quickly towards the door, opening it quietly before stopping dead.

“Uh, Joan. I didn’t realise you were here.”

Max was frowning at her from the doorstep, expression somewhere between confused and surprised.

“Max,” Joan greeted uncomfortably. “Uh, come in.”

The pair of them continued to give each other strange looks as Max stepped into the foyer. He skirted around his boss carefully before moving further into the house.

“Max?”

Zoey had appeared in the kitchen doorway, a look of surprise on her face. Her voice pulled the attention to her, and Max gave her a sympathetic look.

“Hey, Zoey. Uh, Joan called, she told me about your dad.”

He moved to give her a hug then, and Zoey breathed in his familiar scent. Joan shifted a little uncomfortably, not really knowing what to do. After a few moments, Zoey pulled away from Max and gave him a small smile.

“Did you want to see Dad?” she asked quietly. “I’m sure he’d like to see you.”

Max nodded at that, mustering up a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” He glanced to Joan briefly then, before looking back to his friend. “I mean, as long as I’m not interrupting anything.”

Zoey shrugged. “David and Emily have already said their goodbyes really, and I’m still trying to work up the courage. But Dad would want to see you.”

Nodding again, Max moved towards the sitting room, leaving Joan and Zoey behind. Only a few moments later, David and Emily exited the room and headed for the stairs.

“We’re going to try and get some rest,” David explained quietly to his sister. “We won’t be long, though. Just... give me a shout if anything happens?”

“Will do,” Zoey said softly.

Once David and Emily had disappeared upstairs, Zoey held her hand out to Joan and the other woman took it wordlessly. Leading her through to the kitchen, the young woman instinctively began making drinks again.

“Thanks for calling Max,” she said as she waited for the water to boil. She wouldn’t look at Joan, but could feel the woman’s concerned eyes on her. “I’m not sure I would have been able to.”

“No problem. I figured you’d probably want him to know. Wasn’t exactly expecting him to rush over, though.” There was a pause then. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?”

At the tone of Joan’s voice, Zoey couldn’t help but look round. The older woman looked resigned, and perhaps a little anxious. They’d never really discussed Zoey’s almost relationships with Simon or Max. Joan knew that Zoey had sung to them the same day she’d sung to her, but there had never been a full conversation.

“I chose you, Joan,” Zoey reminded her gently. “I want to date you, not Max. And yes, Max has feelings for me, and for a while I thought I might possibly feel the same way about him, but...” She trailed off and shook her head. “There’s only one person who has my heart, and she’s standing in this room with me.”

Joan flushed at that, and tried to cover by rolling her eyes. “Flatterer.” She paused. “I know we said we had to keep our relationship quiet, at least at the office, but you can tell your family. And Max.”

Zoey considered that. “Do you want me to? Tell Max, I mean?”

The brunette shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know. It’s up to you. But Zoey, it looks to me like Max still thinks he has a shot with you, and I’m worried that not telling him about us is going to make things worse in the long run.”

“I’ll speak to Max, tell him we’re dating now.” Zoey turned back to finish making the drinks.

Joan pursed her lips, surveying Zoey for a few moments before moving closer. “Zoey, it doesn’t have to be tonight, you know. You have enough going on right now, and it can wait.”

“Not if you’re uncomfortable,” Zoey countered as she stirred the coffee. “I’m not letting my girlfriend feel like that.” She flashed Joan a small smile.

“Ugh, first of all, I’m a grown woman. I can deal with Max having feelings for you for a few more days,” Joan said. “And secondly, we agreed; we’re partners, not girlfriends. I’m too old to be a girlfriend.” She pulled a face.

Zoey smirked then, and pushed a mug of coffee towards Joan. “I beg to disagree,” she said. “But whatever you want, partner.”

Max didn’t stay long.

“I should really get going,” he told Zoey quietly as the pair of them stood in the foyer. “But you’ll call if you need anything?”

Zoey hesitated at that. She couldn’t help but think back to the conversation with Joan in the kitchen. As much as the older woman insisted it could wait, she was starting to realise that Max was going to have to know sooner rather than later.

“Uh, sure,” she managed with a tight smile. “I mean, I think we’re all good here, but if I need anything, you’re my first call.”

Max had a slightly odd look on his face at that, and he nodded slowly. “Alright then. I’ll just leave you guys- and, uh, Joan I guess- to it.”

That made Zoey frown for a brief second, but Max was already moving towards to the door. They said their goodbyes quietly, and then she was left staring out into the street as he walked away.

“Zoey? Everything alright?”

Maggie approached her daughter uncertainly, watching as Zoey closed the door and turned back to her with a puzzled expression.

“Just Max,” she said quietly. “He’s acting a little... Uh, off, I guess.”

Maggie sighed, and moved closer to her daughter. “Well, honey, is it possible he just didn’t know how to act around you? Things are different now.”

Zoey frowned. “I suppose so. But he’s known about Dad being ill for ages...”

Giving her daughter a look, Maggie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t mean your dad, honey,” she murmured in her ear as she walked them towards the sitting room.

They stopped just outside the doorway, and Zoey’s eyes went wide as she saw Joan sat with Mitch, talking quietly to him.

“-the best coder we have,” Joan was saying, a proud smile on her face. “I mean, I know we’re both biased, but I really believe that. Zoey’s an extraordinary woman, and I hope you’re proud of her. I... I know I am.”

Wide-eyed, Zoey swallowed thickly as she realised Joan was talking with Mitch about her. Maggie rubbed at her daughter’s shoulders.

“For what it’s worth,” Maggie said quietly, “all your father and I have ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Blinking away tears, Zoey looked to her mom. “I am, Mom. I am happy.”

Maggie smiled back. “Good.”

Zoey’s talk with Howie about death had helped, at least a little bit. Honestly, Zoey was glad to have Joan there with her. If she’d had to go through it alone she didn’t know what she would have done. The worst part, of course, was the waiting. She was waiting for her dad to die. The thought made her feel sick.

It didn’t make it any easier, though, when her mom came to tell her she needed to speak to her dad sooner rather than later. David and Howie had moved him into his bed, made him more comfortable, and part of Zoey regretted waiting so long. If she’d spoken to him just a little earlier, she could have spoken to him in the sitting room. Now, he was mostly unconscious, drugged up and struggling to breathe. Zoey sat beside him, biting her lip as she considered what to say.

“I’m going to try to go a different way with this,” she admitted slowly. “I’m doing well at work, the guy I had a crush on likes me back, although I’ve finally figured out my love life and it doesn’t involve him. Or Max. Or, well, any guy. But I think you’ve figured that out, huh? I heard a bit of what Joan said to you earlier. I... I really love her, Dad. We’re keeping the relationship quiet for now, though. We’re still trying to work out the logistics, particularly at work, but I think this might be it.” Zoey broke off, smiling to herself for a moment, before continuing. “And those heart songs I keep hearing? I’m starting to think that they’re not all bad. In fact, I’m sort of warming to them. So... I’m doing alright. Nothing’s perfect, and I’m figuring things out as I go, but I thought you’d want to hear that. That your little girl’s doing well.”

As Zoey finished speaking, she felt a calm wash over her. She’d been dreading this moment for weeks- months, even. And while it had been horrible, there was also something peaceful inside of her. She’d spoken to her dad, she hadn’t broken down, she’d been able to finally give him good news about her job, her love life, her powers.

But then Mitch started struggling to breathe, and Howie hurried into the room to drug him up with more morphine. Maggie and David hovered nearby in concern, and Joan paused in the doorway, unsure what to do. Without thinking, Zoey peeled herself away from the bed to move instead into Joan’s embrace. David spared her a glance, but did nothing more than give his younger sister a tight, sympathetic smile before returning his attention to Mitch.

There really wasn’t anything any of them could do, though, beyond wait for the inevitable. David left the room briefly to check on Emily, but other than that the family remained gathered around Mitch. When Zoey returned to her father’s bedside she tugged Joan with her, and the older woman stood behind the redhead’s chair with a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

That was how Joan realised something odd was happening. Zoey stiffened beneath her touch, before looking to the sitting room and standing. Thinking that she perhaps needed space, Joan let her go. The whole thing lasted only a few seconds, and Zoey only got as far as the door before pausing.

That was when it happened. As Maggie let out a sob, Zoey turned back to her family with a smile on her face. It quickly faded, however, and she turned to look over her shoulder again with a concerned look. Blinking, she stared at her dad for a moment before looking to Joan. Without anyone even uttering a word, Joan quickly moved towards Zoey, holding her arms out. The younger woman fell into the embrace with a sob.

Nobody talked for a very long time.

There was a good turnout for Mitch’s funeral, which surprised nobody. He was a well-loved man, who got on with pretty much everybody he met. Of course lots of people wanted to pay their respects.

It was all a bit overwhelming, though, and Zoey, David, and Emily were all for staying in the car rather than going inside the house. Maggie urged them inside, though, and they were forced to make awkward small-talk with all the guests.

Or, at least, David and Emily were. Zoey was off in her own little world for almost the entirety of the afternoon and into the evening. Joan followed her around the house, making pleasant small-talk with friends of the Clarke family while keeping a close eye on her partner. She knew she was probably raising suspicions, particularly when it came to Max, but she was too concerned about Zoey to care. Although, she did file away Simon’s surprising reaction for future conversation. While the man hadn’t been hostile, he’d been giving Joan sideways glances the whole time, a shadow over his eyes that hinted at jealousy or annoyance.

Oh joy. Not only did Max have feelings for Zoey, but it looked like Simon did too. How were they going to keep Simon off their scent if they wanted to keep their relationship quiet at work?

As she was introduced to yet another old family friend, Joan shook the thought from her head. She was there for Zoey, to remind her to take a break, to eat, to sit down, to step out for some air. They had the rest of their lives to deal with Simon and Max, and anyone else. Right now, she had to get her partner through the rest of the day.

It was a good couple of hours before people finally started filtering out the door. With everyone gone or halfway out the door, Joan was just about to get going when she was stopped by David.

“Are you leaving?”

Joan blinked at him in surprise, looking towards the foyer where Zoey and Mo were saying their goodbyes, before looking back to him. “Uh, yeah. I figured, this was family time...”

David considered that for a moment, before giving the woman a small smile. “I know that you’re dating my sister. I’m pretty certain that makes you family.”

Not really knowing how to respond, Joan stared at him. “So, uh, Zoey told you?”

At that, David laughed a little. “No, no. But she’s my little sister, you know? Besides, I saw the way you two were, the night Dad... Well, let’s just say I could tell.”

Joan folded her arms, a little uncomfortable. “Right. So you’re... Alright with it? I mean, I know Zoey will care, so...”

David shrugged. “We’ve been through hell since Dad was diagnosed. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you make her happy I have no problem with it.” He nodded towards the sitting room, where Emily was already waiting. “So. Are you going to join us?”

Joan glanced towards the foyer again, just in time to see Mo slipping out the door. “If Zoey wants me to, yes.”

David smiled. “Good. Welcome to the family, Joan.”

Joan eventually left the Clarke residence at just before half ten that night, with Zoey, David, and Emily all staying the night. Unsurprisingly, over the next few days she and Zoey didn’t see each other in person, tied up as they both were. But they did manage some conversation over the phone, which was better than nothing. While Zoey was spending time with her family in the wake of Mitch’s death, Joan was frantically trying to figure out her new role as acting CEO of SPRQ Point while Danny Michael Davis was in prison (still nobody was entirely clear on the charges).

In fact, Joan had resigned herself to not seeing her partner in person for at least a week, and so it was quite a surprise when Zoey showed up on her doorstep five days after the funeral.

“I needed to see you,” Zoey said loudly, pushing her way into Joan’s house before the other woman had chance to fully process what was happening.

Joan shut the door against the orange glow of the evening sun, and turned to her partner with a frown. “Zoey? Is everything alright-”

Joan had barely finished speaking before Zoey’s lips were pressed against hers. The kiss was determined, forceful, and spoke of Zoey’s struggling emotions. Joan allowed herself to lean into the kiss for a moment or two before forcing herself to pull away.

“Zoey, honey, talk to me. Not that it’s not great to see you, but this is a bit sudden...”

Zoey’s shoulders slumped then, and she folded her arms across her chest, avoiding Joan’s gaze. “I just... I missed you. We’ve not seen each other since Dad’s funeral, and even though we’ve talked on the phone, it’s not the same.” She sighed. “I should have called. You’re probably busy. I’m sorry.”

She moved towards the door then, but Joan quickly intercepted.

“It’s fine, honey,” Joan said, taking her arm and instead steering her towards the sitting room. “I could do with a break, anyway. Geez, how Danny Michael Davis was always so chilled out, I’ll never know.”

She gently pushed Zoey down onto the large, plush designer sofa, before sitting down next to her. immediately, the younger woman moved closer, looking for contact.

“I’m sorry I’ve not had much time for you recently,” Zoey said quietly. “And I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”

“Zoey, you’ve just lost your dad. You’re allowed to be busy, and you’re allowed to be a little out of sorts. Also, you’re allowed here anytime you want.”

Zoey shifted to look at Joan then, a cautiously hopeful look on her face. “Really?”

Joan smiled softly. “Really. Hey, I didn’t demand the house in the divorce just to piss Charlie off.” She considered that for a moment, before shrugging and staring across the room. “Well, that was a big part of it. But I also demanded the house because it’s mine. It’s my home. Charlie was nearly always out, or travelling, or at a hotel after a party. He never really seemed to belong here. But I did. I do, and I want you to belong here too.”

Zoey was unnervingly quiet then, and Joan looked down at her partner with a worried frown. The redhead was staring at her with a look of bewilderment.

“Oh, god,” Joan said, eyes going wide. “Why did I bring my ex-husband up? I’m sorry, Zoey, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable-”

“No, no, it’s not that...” Zoey said quickly, though she didn’t exactly look any more relaxed. “I just... Joan, are you suggesting I move in with you?”

The older woman blinked at that. “Uh... Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to?”

Joan frowned. “So... You do want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” Zoey countered, growing more confused. “Wait... Do you want me to want to?”

“I... Zoey, I don’t even understand the conversation we’re having right now,” Joan admitted, frown deepening as she tried to untangle everything in her head. “I’ve spent most of today figuring out the release schedule for SPRQ Point’s latest products, and I think Danny Michael Davis wrote the whole thing while stoned because none of it makes sense... He’s scheduled floor three’s video chat app for release in Julgust. What does that even mean? Julgust?”

“I- Well, it sounds like he merged July and August,” Zoey pointed out helpfully. “So... Maybe he was hedging his bets?”

“Zoey, it’s Danny Michael Davis we’re talking about!”

“Oh. Yeah. Then he was probably stoned when he wrote the schedule.”

Joan rolled her eyes. “Exactly my point.” Then, she shook her head. “No! No, that’s not my point! My point is that, after dealing with that all day, I’m tired enough that I cannot begin to figure out the conversation we seem to be having. So don’t take this the wrong way, Zoey, but I wasn’t asking you to move in. At least, not yet. We’ve only had one date, the night we called the bake-off off. I haven’t been divorced that long, only a few months. You’re still grieving after losing your dad. I don’t think rushing into this relationship is what either of us need. But I meant what I said; I want you to be comfortable here. You are welcome here any time.”

Zoey nodded slowly, a warm smile spreading across her face as Joan spoke. “That... That sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I have to admit, I kind of got a little spooked,” Zoey admitted, voice quiet but warm. “I don’t know if I’m ready to move in with you, not on any sort of permanent basis. But I would like to spend more time with you, whether that’s here, or my place, or going out on dates...”

Joan smiled. “That does sound good.”

After a week and a half off of work in the wake of Mitch’s death, Zoey Clarke surprised everyone by showing back up at SPRQ Point at nine on the dot. And nobody was more baffled than her partner.

Partway through fending off kind words and awkward condolences from her team, including Leif and Tobin, the redhead became aware that she was being watched. Standing in the doorway to her office, arms folded and a neutral expression on her face, was Joan.

“Zoey? Can I speak to you a moment?”

Pursing her lips, Zoey moved towards the office, barely hearing Tobin’s muttered comment to Leif about how she was already in trouble and she hadn’t even been in the office five minutes. Once inside Joan’s office, Zoey reluctantly lowered herself into the chair. Joan sat on the edge of her desk, arms still folded and giving the younger woman an exasperated look.

“Why are you here, Zoey?”

“I work here?” Zoey offered, trying to lighten the situation.

The arched eyebrow from Joan told her that it wasn’t going to work.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in today?” Joan tried again. “We spoke last night! You never mentioned coming in!”

“I just... Felt like it,” Zoey shrugged. “I mean, Mom’s been getting out the house a little to meet with friends, Emily’s had the baby so that’s keeping my brother busy... I wanted to just come in, and work on some code, and not be treated like a delicate object for a while.”

Pursing her lips, the brunette nodded slowly then. It seemed like she was choosing her next words carefully. “Am I... Am I doing something wrong? Is there something you want me to, to stop doing? Or that I should be doing but I’m not?”

Zoey blinked. “What? No, Joan! Why would you think that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Joan looked away, clearly uncomfortable and a little embarrassed. It reminded Zoey of how she’d reacted when Charlie had walked out of their SPRQ Watch meeting, and it made her uneasy that she’d upset Joan just like Charlie had. “You’re saying you don’t want to be treated like a delicate object, you’re coming back into work without letting me know... It sounds like this is a me-and-you issue.”

“It’s not, I promise,” the redhead responded gently. She sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Joan, and I really didn’t plan to come back in today, or I’d have spoken to you. I just woke up this morning and realised that I didn’t want to sit around feeling sorry for myself anymore. I know that sounds awful, but it’s the truth. Dad would hate it if he knew what was going on, if he knew I still had my life on hold for him. I just needed to come in, needed to do some work and get my mind off it all. And when I’m here, I’m not Zoey-whose-dad-just-died; I’m Zoey-the-team-leader. I mean, sure, Tobin and Leif and everyone are aware of what I’ve been going through, and they’re being a bit nicer than usual, but they aren’t going to constantly ask me how I’m feeling. When I’m at Mom’s house, and people come round, all they want to know is how I’m holding up. When I’m here, or with you, it’s different.”

It was Joan’s turn to sigh then, her expression softening to one of concern. “Honey, you should have told me. I understand, I get that you need to be doing something. But I don’t like being caught off-guard, you know that. I’m not saying you have to ask my permission, not at all, but if you’d just let me know...” She trailed off, took a breath. “I worried. When I saw you come in, I worried.”

Zoey frowned. “You... Worried?”

Nodding, Joan hesitantly met her eyes again. “Yeah. I mean, I told you that you could take two full weeks off, and you seemed so keen, and so when you showed up today I worried that you were doing something you’d regret. You know, that you were coming back early to prove a point or something, or trying to force yourself to do something you weren’t ready for.” She cleared her throat, glanced out the glass of her office to see Tobin and Leif watching in concern. “I guess I’m just feeling a little overprotective of you right now.” She gave her partner a small smile. “And I’m trying hard not to smother you, but... I don’t like seeing you hurting, Zoey.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t like seeing you hurting either,” Zoey countered with a soft smile. “And I’m sorry I made you worry.” She too glanced over at Leif and Tobin then, before looking back to her partner. “I should get back to work before Leif and Tobin start coming up with conspiracy theories about what we’re talking about.”

With one final smile between the two women, Zoey left the room.

By lunchtime, however, Zoey was finding the office a little stifling.

“Hey,” she greeted Joan as she reached the cereal bar.

Joan was glaring at the options available, clearly taken with none of them. “These choices are awful. Who chose to go back to a cereal bar? Was it Glenn?”

Before she could shout for poor Glenn, who was probably hiding again, Zoey cleared her throat pointedly.

“Uh, actually, I wanted to speak to you about that. I- Well, if you’re not busy, I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch? I just... Need to get out of the office for a bit.”

Concern came over Joan’s face, and she nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let me grab my purse.”

They headed for the elevators, with a detour through Joan’s office to grab her purse, and soon they were out of the office and walking down the street.

“Where were you thinking?” Joan asked, slipping her hand into Zoey’s. “There’s a sushi place nearby, if you fancy that. Or there’s a good Italian place-”

“I was thinking somewhere a little different,” Zoey interrupted, giving her partner a nervous smile. “I’m more in the mood for... Well, for something sweet.”

Joan gave a small smile at that, and simply nodded for Zoey to lead the way. They made small talk as they walked, talking about anything that came to mind. Joan complained yet again about Danny Michael Davis’s awful management of SPRQ Point, while Zoey shared stories of her brother and Emily embarking on parenthood.

“I don’t think it will be long before Mom offers to babysit,” Zoey laughed. “She’s already been telling David and Emily about how nice it will be for them to be able to go out for a meal just the two of them.”

“Have you had a chance to meet the baby yet?” Joan asked.

At that, Zoey grinned widely, and promptly dove into her purse to retrieve her phone. “I have pictures!”

Moments later, Joan found herself blinking at an entire album on Zoey’s phone dedicated to her newborn nephew. “He’s cute,” she said, accepting the phone to thumb through the photos. “Tiny.”

“I think my sister-in-law would disagree with that,” Zoey said with a grin.

Joan smirked back. “I’m sure she would.” She came across a photo of Zoey holding the baby then, and promptly fell silent. The photo had clearly been snapped without Zoey knowing, as she stared down at the tiny baby in her arms with such love that it made Joan’s heart clench. She quickly covered the sudden flood of fear she felt with a smile and handed the phone back to its owner. “What did they call him again?”

“Sam,” Zoey said as she pocketed the phone. “Well, Samuel Mitch Clarke.”

She was still beaming from ear to ear, and it was clear that she doted on her nephew. Feeling another wave of unease, Joan busied herself with checking her own phone for emails.

“This is cheesecake,” Joan said, staring at the food in front of her.

“This is cheesequake,” Zoey corrected as she slid into a seat opposite. “It’s good. Try it.”

Still a little baffled that Zoey had wanted cheesecake over sushi or Italian, Joan picked up her spoon and scooped a small amount of the food into her mouth. Zoey watched her with a knowing smile.

“This is good,” Joan said after a few moments. “How did you find out about this place?”

“Simon brought me here,” Zoey admitted. “And then I brought Max here, after he got fired. It’s good comfort food.”

At the mention of the two men in Zoey’s life, Joan felt her smile stiffen a little. First the photo of Zoey and Sam, and now the mention of Max and Simon. Joan was a confident woman while at work, but Charlie’s treatment of her over the years had left her uncertain when it came to personal connections. She couldn’t help but feel like Zoey was already slipping through her fingers.

“Joan?”

Shaking herself, the brunette forced another smile, hoping it looked more natural than it felt.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she waved off Zoey’s concern. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Zoey frowned. “Uh, because it doesn’t look alright?”

Joan responded by shrugging. “I’m fine.” She took another bite of food. “Good cheesequake.”

But Zoey pursed her lips, set down her spoon, and leaned forward to take Joan’s hand in hers. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Brow furrowing, Joan glanced around before leaning forward. “I didn’t... You know? I mean, this isn’t a power thing, is it?”

“What? No, you didn’t sing. Joan, I can just tell. Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

Zoey’s thumb was stroking the delicate skin of Joan’s wrist then; a soothing motion that did help to calm the older woman’s racing thoughts even if it didn’t stop them entirely.

“I’m being stupid,” Joan said with a sigh.

“I doubt that,” Zoey said. “You don’t do stupid.”

The brunette’s lips quirked at that, but then she looked away for a moment. “Zoey...” She looked back to her partner, uncertain. “Why are you with me?”

Zoey frowned. “Because I love you.” She thought for a moment. “Is this because I mentioned Max? I’ve already told you, you don’t have to worry about him. I chose you, remember?”

“I remember,” Joan agreed quietly. “But Zoey, you could have Max, or Simon, or anyone else your age. Why did you pick me? That photo of you and your nephew... You do realise that being with me means no kids, right? I mean, I’m not cut out to be a mom! I scare everybody in the office! And even if I didn’t, I’m too old for all that. I’m more than twenty years older than you; in fact I’m closer to your mom’s age than yours!”

Zoey’s frown deepened. “This is really bothering you.” She took in Joan’s pursed lips, her tight posture, her damp eyes. Her heart broke. “Joan, how many times do I have to tell you that I love you? I don’t want Max, or Simon, or anyone else. And as much as I love Sam, I’m not even sure I want kids. And I certainly don’t care how old you are.”

“You might change your mind,” Joan countered, sitting back in her chair and pulling her arm from Zoey’s grip.

The redhead shrugged. “Or I might not. Joan, I never gave any serious thought to ever being with Max, and I never really considered anything serious with Simon either. The only one I want that sort of relationship with is you. And I know that I can’t make you believe this, but I don’t want anybody except you.”

Finally, Joan’s lips quirked into a small smile and some of the tension fell from her shoulders. The pair of them stayed silent for a few moments, no words necessary as they stared into each other’s eyes. But then, Zoey got this strange feeling she was being watched, and reluctantly tore her eyes from Joan. Looking round, her eyes went wide as she saw someone familiar watching them.

With a frown, Joan turned to look too, swallowing when she saw Simon staring back at them with a surprised on his face. As the man approached, Zoey and Joan shared a bewildered look.

“What do we do?” Joan whispered, wide-eyed.

Zoey only just managed a shrug before Simon reached the table.

“Ladies,” he greeted, smiling at the pair of them although it looked strained. “Joan, I see Zoey’s introduced you to cheesequakes.”

“She is,” Joan responded with a tight smile. “They’re good.”

“That they are,” Simon agreed, looking between the two women. “Zoey! I heard you were back at work today. I thought you weren’t back until next Monday?”

“Oh, yeah,” Zoey said uncomfortably. “I, uh, I came back a little early. Wanted to do something, you know. Keep myself busy.”

Simon nodded in understanding, and was about to say something when he was interrupted.

“Uh, hi guys.”

Max was approaching them with a confused look on his face, taking in Zoey and Joan sharing a table, and the awkward expression on Simon’s face.

“Hi, Simon, Joan,” Max greeted with a forced smile. He gave a small nod to his former boss and the man next to him before turning his attention to the younger woman. “Zo, I was about to call you. I didn’t realise you were meeting Joan for lunch. I got cheesequakes.” He held up the two cheesequakes he’d already purchased.

“Oh, well, great minds think alike,” Zoey said, eyes flashing to the two cheesequakes Simon was also holding. “But I went back into work this morning, so I asked Joan to join me for something to eat.” She shifted a little uncomfortably.

Opposite her, Joan was tight-lipped and pale-faced. There was a tense silence for several long moments before, finally, Simon spoke up.

“So, uh, I should get back to work. Lots of stuff to do at the office.”

“Uh, yeah, I should go too,” Max said suddenly, giving the two women a tight smile. “That new job isn’t going to find itself.”

As the two men walked away, Joan’s shoulders sagged.

“Oh, god,” she muttered, giving Zoey a look.

“It’s fine,” Zoey responded quietly as she watched the men leave, “I doubt Simon will say anything, and Max doesn’t even work at SPRQ Point anymore.”

“That doesn’t make it any less awkward,” Joan pointed out. “Both Simon and Max clearly like you, Zoey, and now they’ve seen us together...”

But Zoey couldn’t hear the rest of what Joan was saying, as music started up in her head. She saw both Simon and Max stop walking, turning round to approach her again.

“Oh boy,” she muttered.

It was just Simon who started singing as he approached her, though, and the words surprised Zoey.

“This was all you, none of it me,

You put your hands on, on my body and told me,

Mmmm,

You told me you were ready

For the big one, for the big jump

I’d be your last love everlasting you and me

Mmmm,

That was what you told me...”

Simon hit the chorus just as he reached Joan and Zoey’s table, Max sliding in neatly beside him and joining in with the lyrics.

“I’m giving you up

I’ve forgiven it all

You set me free.”

The two men started dancing then, Simon moving clockwise round the table while Max went counter-clockwise. Opposite her, Joan was frowning at her.

“Zoey? Zoey, what’s happening?”

“Send my love to your new lover

Treat her better...”

Blinking, Zoey forced herself to look at her partner. “Uh, Max and Simon are singing.”

“We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts

We both know we ain’t kids no more...”

Joan’s eyebrows shot up. “Singing? Singing what? Are they going to tell HR about us?”

“I... I don’t think so,” Zoey admitted, watching as the men continued to dance.

“Send my love to your new lover

Treat her better...”

“Well, what are they singing?”

Zoey shrugged. “I don’t know the song. It’s something about... I think it’s called ‘Send my love’?”

At that, Joan’s eyebrow arched. “Oh.”

“We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts

We both know we ain’t kids no more...”

Simon’s voice faded out then as Max took over for the next verse.

“I was too strong, you were trembling

You couldn’t handle the hot heat rising

Mmmm,

Baby, I’m still rising

I was running, you were walking

You couldn’t keep up, you were falling down

Mmmm,

There’s only one way down.”

Zoey blinked as she realised the significance of what the two men were singing. Joan gave her a small smile.

“I’m giving you up

I’ve forgiven it all

You set me free, oh...”

Simon came back in for the chorus as the two men came to a stop side by side where they’d started.

“Send my love to your new lover

Treat her better

We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts

We both know we ain’t kids no more...”

As they continued to sing, Simon and Max started to back away, moving towards the exit. Their voices faded as they grew further away.

“Send my love to your new lover

Treat her better

We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts

We both know we ain’t kids no more...”

And then, it was over. Blinking, Zoey looked to Joan.

“This is a good thing, right?” Joan asked uncertainly, studying Zoey’s face for clues as to how she was feeling.

A smile spread across the younger woman’s face. “Yes. It is.”

And then, just because she could, she stood up, pulled Joan forward, and kissed her across the table.

#zep fic #zoey x joan #zoeys extraordinary playlist #zoey clarke #joan bennett #my fic

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