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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

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Day 30: Dukexiety

Day 30 - When you look in the mirror, you can’t see your own reflection, just your soulmate. (Never heard of this prompt before, so I guessed)

Content warnings: maybe some anxiety? Just some wholesome for ya.

Word count: 1.5k

This ficlet is dedicated to @marshymoop.

Virgil was told he had brown hair; the color of a walnut. Sometimes if he grew it out long enough, he could just catch a glimpse of the color when it fell into his eyes. Apparently those were brown too.

A friend of his mom’s was an artist and had drawn him when he’d turned thirteen, but it hadn’t looked right. The face staring back at him from the canvas didn’t feel like his at all. He didn’t recognize the curve to the nose or the bags under the eyes; it just looked like a stranger. The more he looked, the more uneasy he felt, and he’d tucked it into the back corner of his closet, never to look at it again.

His reflection, where he’d seen the face of his soulmate since he was a baby, was far more familiar to him.

Black hair streaked with white.

Sharp green eyes.

A smattering of freckles over olive skin.

Sometimes it was odd, smearing makeup under eyes that weren’t technically his, and trying to fix hair that was shorter than what showed in the reflection, but it was a problem everyone had until they met their soulmate. He just hoped that the dark clothes looked as good on the real him as it did on his reflection.

---

Virgil was struggling to focus on the textbook paragraph in front of him when his phone chimed. It was a welcome distraction from the existential quandaries that came with Philosophy 103. Just a quick break, he promised.

Remus: heyyyyyyy

Aaaand there was that plan out the window. He couldn’t care less though, studying be damned, because now his heart was pounding and a nearly painful smile was stretching his cheeks. It had been a week since Remus had messaged him, and the pent up joy was all coming out at once.

You’re back! He replied amidst flapping hands. How was camping? His fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

I missed your messages. I missed you. I was lonely.

He said nothing.

Remus: i caught a squirrel. i couldn’t keep it though

Virgil: Did you name it at least?

That’s adorable. You’re adorable and a goof and amazing.

Remus: Yep. Squirrely Temple

A picture message showed up moments later, showing a surprisingly relaxed squirrel sitting in a styrofoam cup, a single peanut clasped in it’s little hands. The taker of the photo wasn’t visible, though that was to be expected.

The next one featured what Virgil assumed was the same squirrel, this time wearing a crudely constructed paper top hat. It held another peanut, and once again seemed shockingly unconcerned.

The photo was quickly replaced with a call screen and Virgil accepted it eagerly, still laughing.

“Did you see the squirrel?” Remus asked excitedly, to which Virgil could only laugh harder.

“Why is it in a hat?” He wheezed.

“I made it out of sap and a brochure I found. I think Squirrely Temple looked rather dapper.” The grin was evident in Remus’ voice.

“And you didn’t keep it?” Virgil inelegantly kicked his schoolwork off the bed to lay across it, grabbing his fidget cube from the side table.

“Nah, something about preserving wildlife and not having enough room at home,” he yawned, “Me an’ Roman gave him plenty of peanuts before we left though. A whole pile on a wood stump.”

“You sound tired,” Virgil teased. There was a small twinge in his chest at the idea of Remus going to bed already. He’d been off the grid for a week. Virgil was loath to admit, but he’d missed his friend more than expected.

“I think my body just sees an actual bed and the ‘tired’ protocol is,” Another yawn, “activated.”

Virgil yawned in tandem. “You should probably sleep, then.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Take your own advice, and I’ll consider. When’s the last time you got six hours of sleep?”

“Consecutively?”

Remus snorted. There was a whoosh of air as he dropped onto his bed, and a brief lull in the conversation before he spoke up. “I think I’d rather talk to you than sleep, actually.”

Damn, how was he supposed to respond to that? He pressed a cool hand to his reddening cheeks, glad the other couldn’t see him. “Wow, is that genuine emotion coming from Remus?” Virgil retorted instead. We can talk for hours if you want. I missed talking to you.

“My bad, I think I still have some fresh air in my system.”

God, he’d missed him. A single week had felt like a whole year without their constant interaction and updates throughout their days. They’d only known each other for months (had it only been months?) but in that time, talking to each other had become so ingrained in their lives, it seemed wrong to not wake up with his phone blown up from messages. It was so effortless, wasting hours away but feeling like no time had passed at all. It meant the world to Virgil.

And despite their jokes and snarky conversations, he had a feeling it meant a lot to Remus too.

It was as if he blinked, and the sun had set in the sky. The room had gradually turned dark as ink but Virgil couldn’t be bothered to flip on the lights, not when he was so captivated by Remus’ voice as he recounted his family camping trip. He didn’t notice nor care; this was more important.

Only when Remus’ yawns grew closer and closer together did it occur to him that the other was several hours ahead, blasted timezones. It would be early morning there.

“I think you should try to sleep,” Virgil grinned as Remus tried and failed to keep talking through another yawn.

“Maybe,” He sighed.

“Talk tomorrow?” For the first night in a bit, Virgil felt that same, familiar warm bubble in his chest.

“I actually had a question for you, first.”

Pop.

Remus sounded uncharacteristically nervous, putting Virgil on edge instantly. Everything he’d ever done wrong flooded through his mind. Oh god, how did he find out about the third grade Christmas concert?

“Do you want to vid chat?” He blurted.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

“Like, tomorrow. Or not. It’s okay if not.”

Remus never stuttered. Something about it was unbelievably adorable.

“Just for fun, because we haven’t before, but if you don’t want to there’s no pressure-”

“Yes.”

All blubbering screeched to a halt on the other end, and Virgil couldn’t decide if his predominant emotion was anxiety or excitement. Besottedness, maybe? Either way, it made his face heat up to the tips of his ears and his feet wiggle.

“Yes?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Okay!” Remus let out a relieved laugh that bordered on a giggle, “When?”

“I end classes at one tomorrow.”

The man murmured his way through timezone math for a moment. “Yeah! Yeah, okay! I can do that! Yes!”

Virgil bit his lip, but a laugh made its way through anyways. “I can’t wait.”

-----------

Whatever confidence Virgil had developed the day before, it had completely evaporated by the next morning. His mind wandered during classes, too busy coming up with worst case scenarios. What if the connection sucked? What if they spoke over each other and it was awkward? What if they had nothing to talk about and it got awkward? What if they weren’t compatible face to face? It added a whole new layer to their relationship they hadn’t explored before.

What if they weren’t friends by the end of it?

He was equal parts relieved and petrified when his final class ended and there was nothing between him and the call. The whole walk back to his dorm was spent watching the numbers on the clock tick by, each minute sending a rush of adrenaline through him until he was sure he’d collapse from nerves right there on the path way.

A text from Remus came through three minutes before their agreed time.

Remus: Ready?

NO, he wanted to scream. There were too many variables, they were leaving the comfort zone and that’s where Virgil thrived!

Virgil: 5 mins

He set up his computer and paced around his room for the remainder of his time. His eyes caught a blur of motion in the mirror and he turned to his reflection, his flapping hands slowing as he studied the face before him as he’d done hundreds of times before. Not his face, but the only one he knew as his.

A part of him was suddenly weighed by guilt as he looked into those bright eyes, because the guiltier part of him knew what he had was a crush. A helpless one, at that. And a hopeless one. What was the point pining after someone when the universe had already handpicked someone else for him?

Stupid universe and it’s stupid soulmates.

The chime of an incoming call startled him out of his reverie and he swore under his breath. He tried to soothe down his hair, rub the stress from his eyes, but it was hopeless when he couldn’t see if it actually looked okay.

He sat in his desk chair and took a few measured breaths before clicking accept. The video stuttered and glitched before it finally settled, and Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

Black hair streaked with white.

Sharp green eyes.

A smattering of freckles over olive skin.

The silence stretched between them for achingly long before Remus beamed into the camera, and it was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen.

“Well, hello there, soulmate.”

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #sanders sides soulmate au #soulmate september #ts soulmate au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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imaginary-portal · 3 years

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Unspoken - Part Five

Bucky Barnes x Fem Reader

Summary: Y/N is a superhero with telekinetic and healing capabilities. The only catch, she doesn’t speak (italicized words are thoughts).

Content Warning: slightly sexual content

Word Count: ~1.9k

Part One Part Four Part Six

Masterlist

Enjoy!

——————

The team took advantage of the day off, and slept into the late morning. Y/N was the first to wake up, and she went out to get the guys breakfast. Y/N struggled with leaving Bucky alone in the bed. She just wanted to stay there with him forever. But at least now he’ll know how she felt the other day, waking up without him beside her. She came back to the room to find Sam and Bucky laying in their beds, watching television. “Food!” Sam said happily. Bucky smiled charmingly and gave Y/N a wave. He remembered how perfect last night was. The simple kiss on the cheek drove him wild.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted…” Y/N trailed off while the two men came and rummaged through the food, taking what they liked. Y/N took the leftovers and ate it, quickly getting bored of the television. She grabbed her book and left the room. The door reopened behind her. “Y/N, where you off to?” Bucky asked. Y/N raised her book, signaling she would be reading. “Do you mind if I come with you? Maybe you can find me a book I’d enjoy.” Y/N accepted his invitation by motioning her head forward. Bucky followed Y/N like a puppy as they walked to the nearest book store. They were greeted by a cashier and Bucky gave them a small wave. Y/N walked to the classic novel section and chose the most boring book she could think of and handed it to Bucky. Bucky tried to be polite but as he flipped through the pages he realized the joke. “I get it because I’m technically a hundred years old. Funny stuff.” Y/N took the book hunt seriously now, heading for the fiction section. She grabbed a book that was about a war, betrayal, and friendship. Bucky seemed very interested when reading the back cover.

They purchased the book and found a park bench to sit at and read. Bucky was immediately sucked into his book, impressed by Y/N’s sense of judgement. He couldn’t help himself, however, from letting his eyes wander from the page to look at her. The way she focuses on her reading, he’s never seen anything like it before. She’s in her own little world. I want to be part of that. “Hey, Y/N.” Y/N broke from her trance and looked over at Bucky, who was so lost in her beauty that he forgot what he was going to say. “I um- I-“ Y/N smiled, realizing the situation. She closed her book and turned towards Bucky. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him butterflies, a feeling he thought he was too old to have. “Sometimes things are better left unspoken.” Y/N leaned in and kissed Bucky, their lips molding perfectly together. Bucky cupped Y/N’s face as he kissed her more passionately. The two rested their foreheads against each other and smiled like idiots. Y/N turned back to her book, wrapping her arm around Bucky’s and resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and returned to his reading.

——————

Y/N and Bucky walked home near sunset, holding hands the whole time. Sam questioned about where they were all day. Bucky simply said they went reading. Sam could tell by the look on Y/N’s face that unfortunately that was true. “Don’t you guys want to have fun?” Bucky chuckled. “Says the guy who stayed here and watched tv all day.” Sam laughed. “Touché. I guess I should do something today. I’ll go fetch us dinner.” Sam got up from his bed, grabbed his keys, gave Bucky a wink, and left.

Y/N stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. However, she knew exactly what she wanted to do right now. I just want his lips on mine. Bucky thought the same thing. Unsure of who would crack first, Y/N sat down on the bed. Bucky looked at her sitting there, looking perfect. He couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip. Y/N took note of this and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Bucky also sat on the bed and remembered Y/N’s advice from earlier. Sometimes things are better left unspoken. But Bucky doesn’t want to leave it unspoken how amazing Y/N looks. He turned to Y/N and leaned in for a kiss. Y/N hovered her lips over his, teasing him a little before meeting his parted lips. The kisses quickly escalated. Y/N’s hands found their way into Bucky’s hair and she lightly tugged him. Bucky’s hands rested on her hips, squeezing them every so often. Bucky slipped his tongue gently in Y/N’s mouth, earning a moan from her. The moan gave Bucky a rush, pulling Y/N closer to him. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” He said in a raspy voice. Y/N was now sitting on Bucky’s lap, where she could feel his member harden. Y/N broke the kiss to leave a trail of kisses along his neck, earning a grunt from him. “We should stop.” Y/N said in between breaths. Bucky’s lips found their way back to Y/N’s. “Yeah, we should.” But neither of them could detach from the other. Suddenly, the two hear keys jiggling in the door. Y/N squeals as she jumps off of Bucky. The two sit a few feet apart, obviously out of breath. Y/N makes a last minute run to the bathroom to fix her hair. Bucky grabs a pillow and places it casually over his crotch. He runs a hand through his hair as Sam enters the room with a bag of food. “Thanks for helping me in by the way. The stupid lock is broken.” Bucky smiled softly, the only thoughts running through his mind were of Y/N. He didn’t know if he could keep it together when he sees her again.

Y/N comes out of the bathroom, looking normal and relaxed. She comes over quietly and grabs some food, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. Bucky watches her every move, finding perfection in all of it. Sam sat, clueless of how to understand this interaction. Y/N sits next to Bucky, resting her head on his shoulder as she ate. “Oh so you two are a thing now?” Sam asked. “Now you see that makes more sense why you’re being so weird today. I’m happy for you guys.” Bucky smiled and placed a kiss on top of Y/N’s head.

Before sleep that night, Bucky whispered in Y/N’s ear, “We’ll have to finish what we started sometime.” Bucky nibbled Y/N’s ear and placed a kiss on her neck before falling asleep.

——————

At the next mission, the team had to go indoors and split up to find the super soldiers. Y/N made it to them first, but she quickly felt her powers wipe away from her body. She entered a room with runes on the walls. Y/N looked around to see who might’ve done it, but she couldn’t imagine any of the super soldiers being capable of this. Y/N pulled her torturer’s necklace out of her pocket, securing it safely around her neck, the red light beginning to glow. While Y/N’s physical body remained standing where it was, her spirit temporarily transported to a different realm. “Are you joining the collective?” A voice whispered to her in the dark. “No. I just need to get out of here, away from the runes.” Y/N tried bargaining with the spirit. “Tsk tsk tsk. We only let you use the power if you join us. That is the price you pay.” Y/N looked around her, seeing only an abyss. She tried feeling her powers, they had returned. “And what if I don’t listen to you?” She said with a new confidence. “Then you’ll have even more people after you. Brutal people who want justice for the powers of the collective.” Y/N used her senses to feel around. There was something that she could grab onto with her telekinesis. She pulled the object closer to see a frail old woman in a robe. The woman had a look of shock on her face. “You’re not like the others. You looked behind the curtain. You must be one of the chosen ones. We permit you our power, you don’t have to join us.” The old woman bowed to Y/N, her weak legs kneeling on the ground. Y/N was incredibly confused but delighted to get this haggling over with.

Y/N was brought back to reality, where only a few milliseconds had passed. With her newfound powers from the necklace, she destroyed the runes by crumbling the walls around her. The super soldiers stood in shock. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” One said to the other. “What will we tell him when he gets here?” Y/N started attacking the super soldiers that came after her. Sam and Bucky followed the noise and joined the fight. Bucky noticed that Y/N was wearing the necklace and her powers were different. He stayed close by her as he fought.

Y/N left in the middle of the fight, running out of the room. “What the hell?” Bucky yelled. Y/N climbed to the rooftop, where she felt a formidable presence. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.” A man Y/N remembers from her captivity unleashed sparkles from his hands, casting runes on the ground. Y/N destroyed them at the blink of an eye, and that is when the man recognized her necklace. “You’re with the collective?” Y/N shook her head and the man looked worried. “Call for backup.” He spoke to his servant. Y/N and the man began fighting, and she had him pinned down before the super soldiers had arrived. The man tried reaching for the necklace, but Y/N twisted his arm tighter. “What are you waiting for? Kill me.” The man pleaded. Y/N grew frustrated. “Wait, you can’t kill me? What a twist!” He laughed hysterically. “Y/N!” Sam and Bucky yelled running towards the scene. “We need to take care of this guy.” Y/N said. The message didn’t get through to either of the men. “Little miss powerful doesn’t have what it takes.” The man smirked. “You. With the blue eyes. Kill me. Do it. You’ve done it hundreds of times before.” Bucky looked at Y/N reluctantly, and she looked down. Bucky aimed his gun at the man and fired, knocking him dead. The super soldiers and servants scurried away like mice. “Y/N, who was that?” Sam asked gently. Y/N couldn’t hear anything over the whispers from the necklace. She still held on to the dead man’s arm tightly. “Y/N?” Sam and Bucky looked at each other in worry.

Bucky pulled Y/N’s arm off of the man. “Y/N?” Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheeks with his hands. The look in her eyes was desolate. “Y/N snap out of it. God damn it.” Bucky walked away in frustration and kicked his gun. “Y/N!” Sam yelled her name louder. Y/N heard his voice faintly. She started to control the voices much like lowering the volume on a remote. “I have to go.” Was all she said before she jumped from one rooftop to another. Bucky started to chase after her, but Sam blocked him. “Don’t do it Buck. You won’t make it.” Bucky ignored him. “Bull shit. I did that all the time when I was the Winter Soldier.” Sam fought harder to keep him back. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. I couldn’t even chase her right now if I flew after her. I’m sorry Bucky. We have to let her go.” Tears formed in Bucky’s eyes. Sam brought him into an embrace. “I don’t understand what happened to her.” Sam held back tears. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out. I’ll be sure of it.”

——————

Tags: @learisa @harrietbaudelaire

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #fanfic #crush imagine #imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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drwcn · 3 years

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maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot.

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins”

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!”

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.”

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1]

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?"

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries.

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?”

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult.

Unless he’s on acid.

Well… okay, psych consult either way.

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.”

“....Thank you.”

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed.

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.”

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.”

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue.

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.”

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.”

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her?

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical.

I must be the one losing, damnit.

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me."

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession.

"She would forgive you."

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but...

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope - but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace.

[4]

— Did you love her?

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough.

— Do you love her still?

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do.

...

— Are you ashamed of it?

...

— No. No I’m not.

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team.

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again.

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then.

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had.

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance.

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!”

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng!

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties.

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -”

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.”

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly.

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.”

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.”

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding.

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen...

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.”

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.”

“I didn’t fracture -”

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.”

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair.

Shen Liang’s smile widened.

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!”

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam.

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat.

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.”

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.”

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...”

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.”

The boys agreed.

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed.

#cql #the untamed #chengqing #wen qing #jiang cheng #a midnight conversation in your local er #cql ficlet #corie fics

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potatoes-is-are-food · 3 years

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Demon Shit [Part 2]

I’m making this a whole ass series, we’re gonna call this the demon shit au or whatever, feel free to send in asks about it and stuff, and get ready for more parts!

| NSFW - no actual secs scene in this one

When you woke, you felt like you’d been hit by a train. You struggled to move, shifting a little and groaning. A light chuckle came from slightly above you and you pried your eyes open to look into Dabi’s cyan ones.

“Sore?” he teased, running his fingers through your hair. You gave him a look and he clasped his hand dramatically over his chest, “not the kicked puppy look, doll,” he pulled you close and inspected the bite on your neck, stroking along the marred skin carefully with his thumb before letting his hand rest on your shoulder.

“That doesn’t hurt anymore, right?” He asked, giving it a little tap. You craned your neck, reaching up to feel it yourself and finding only ridges like an old scar and not the gaping wound that it should be. You looked up at him, intrigued by the look of concern on his face, and shook your head.

“Good,” the corner of his mouth twitched up and he leaned in, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You trailed your fingers lightly along his bare chest, skin catching on the metal of his staples.

“Do these hurt?” You asked, meeting his eyes again. He gave you an expression you couldn’t read.

“Yeah, but not to the touch,” he paused, “They’re sort of like a punishment. I’m not as nice to everyone as I am to you, little sacrifice,” he teased, half-smiling and planting another soft kiss to your forehead. You felt you shouldn’t press the matter, settling back into bed and burying your face in his chest.

He hummed, stroking your hair for a minute before giving your back a pat and detaching you from himself, standing and opening the curtains. The lighting outside hadn’t changed at all in the hours you’d spent in the house. He stretched, and your eyes moved across the taught muscles in his back and arms.

When he turned to face you again he materialized the same outfit he’d had on yesterday. He helped you stand, shaking a bit and clutching the soft, white bed sheet around your body. He sighed,

“Shit. Shouldn’t have ripped your dress,” he muttered, looking down at your little sheet-clad form.

“Can’t you make clothes?” You asked, giving the sleeve of his jacket a little tug. He shook his head,

“Nope. I can only do that to myself. Technically speaking they’re not real. And I can only do a couple things,” his hand curled under his chin, one finger tapping against his jaw. “It’s fine,” he said, ruffling your hair, “You just stay here for a bit and I’ll be right back, okay? Take another nap or bath or something.”

You shook your head, grasping his sleeve again tightly, “Don’t leave me here by myself,” you felt a lump form in your throat at the thought. This place wasn’t even real if your assumption of what a “pocket dimension” was was correct.

“It’s safe, sweetness,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you pleaded with him with your expression. He tutted at you, giving your forehead a light flick.

“Less than an hour. Promise,” two fingers tilted your chin up as he leaned down, swiping his forked tongue along your lip and flicking it into your mouth when you opened for him, followed by his lips meeting yours. He groaned softly against you before pulling away, wiping away the strands of saliva that followed.

“Be right back,” he trailed his thumb down your cheek, planting one more brief kiss to your temple, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. You followed, opening the door to find him gone.

With a little shiver, you pulled the sheet up around you tighter, bunching up the material so it wouldn’t drag behind as you explored the house. You went down the stairs, wincing as several places on your abused body flared in pain, and padded through a little sitting room. The whole house was like a doll’s house, and everything downstairs seemed to be fake. The sinks didn’t work and the fridge didn’t open, and you quickly grew bored, deciding to take Dabi’s advice and have another bath.

Entering the room he’d ...had you in, you took in the sight of the disgusting bed. The blankets were bunched in various places, shredded in others, and the whole thing had pools and specks of blood, sweat, and cum on it. Your sacrificial dress was in shreds in the corner. You awkwardly turned away, into the attached bathroom.

You dropped the sheet in front of the mirror as you gasped at your reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your body was covered in bruises and scratches, mostly hand-shaped or matching the spacing of his staples. You hadn’t even noticed them scraping along your skin, but they definitely had. The bite he’d left looked like an old scar. You noticed your lips were a little swollen, too, and not just the ones on your face.

Starting the bath, you tried to comb through your hair with your fingers and splashed a little cold water from the sink on your face. You sat on the edge of the tub, blankly staring into space. Was this a dream? You knew the witch meant business, she’d told you if you fucked up her ritual she’d kill you and she definitely meant it. You laughed in spite of yourself at the thought. You’d fucked up the ritual and then fucked her demon.

Lowering yourself into the hot water you sighed, stretching and letting it soothe your sore muscles. You wondered what it meant to be a sacrifice. What did he mean when he said he was going to “keep you”? There was too much to try to sift through, so you pushed it all to the back of your mind and decided it didn’t matter. He clearly didn’t have any intentions of killing you or he’d have done it. And at least some part of him seemed to care about you. Your face burned whenever you tried to place your own feelings, though.

What you thought was roughly half an hour later you heard movement in the house. Feeling shy you grabbed the sheet off the floor and pulled it over the top of the tub, covering most of the rim. The footsteps stopped outside the door and Dabi knocked, opening the door without waiting for a response.

“Got you something to wear, little sacrifice,” he held up a bag from a store you’d never heard of, setting it aside and crouching beside you, “What’s this for?” He trailed his finger under the sheet, raising a brow at you. You felt your cheeks heat up and sank further into the water. He chuckled, grabbing the sheet as he stood and holding it out for you to use as a towel, keeping his eyes on yours.

You begrudgingly stood, cold air making goosebumps raise on your skin. Dabi wrapped the sheet around you and helped you out of the tub, rubbing the fabric over you to dry you off.

“So shy,” he taunted, running a thumb along your cheek affectionately. “I know I fucked you stupid earlier but you remember me seeing you naked, right?” He crouched, bunching the sheet up and drying your legs. Eye level with your hips, he reached and gently dragged a finger along your puffy, still sore folds, making you whimper.

“Poor little thing,” he withdrew his hand, placing a brief kiss to your pussy that made your breath hitch before reaching for the bag and rustling through it and producing a white dress, similar to the one he’d ripped off you, “We’re doing another ritual. The dress isn’t necessary but it’s traditional and you looked so cute in the first one.”

You stepped in, using his shoulder for support, and he pulled the soft material up your body until it was settled in place. It was very similar to the first one, but made out of sturdier material. You shifted a little, squeezing your thighs together uncomfortably.

“Um, Dabi?” Your brows knitted together as you looked up at him. He hummed in response, shifting through a different shopping bag, “Could I have some other stuff to wear with this? Like under it? And shoes…?” You trailed off, trying not to sound ungrateful for what he’d already given you. He gave you a wink,

“I’ve got ya, doll,” he lifted your feet one at a time, guiding them through the lace panties, pulling them up around your hips and giving the waistband a little snap. You stepped into the stockings he held up next, his hands gliding up your legs as he fixed them for you, planting a soft kiss on each knee as he finished.

“Why are you dressing me and stuff?” The question came out quiet and nervous as he pulled the dress down to affix a bralette around your chest.

“I take good care of my things,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as he fixed your sleeves back into place. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a long black coat, draping it around your shoulders. Pulling out a pair of boots and helping you step in, he tied the laces for you as you spoke,

“What are you going to do with me? After we summon your friend?” You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, not looking directly at him as he stood, adjusting the coat on your shoulders.

“Sacrifices usually live in pocket dimensions like this one. Sometimes their demons will let them stay in what you’d call the real world, but they can’t visit as often like that so it’s not as popular,” he explained, tilting your chin up to look at him, “I’m going to keep you in a bigger pocket and you’re going to live there. I’m also gonna use you to summon my friends and they’ll be able to visit you. You don’t have to do anything, just keep a couple demons happy for a few thousand years.”

Your eyes widened and his hand wrapped around your shoulders to stabilize you.

“Thousand?” You gasped, gripping his wrist and gaping up at him. He laughed, flicking your forehead as he’d done earlier,

“Yeah. Thousand. You’ll live as long as I do so probably another six thousand or so,” he pressed his lips to the spot he’d flicked, clearly amused at your shock, “So,” he continued nonchalantly, “Time to go.” His fingers threaded through yours as he pulled you out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

Once you stepped through the front door with him the pocket dimension was gone and you’d stepped into a busy street, struggling to keep up with Dabi’s fast pace as he dragged you behind him. You tugged on his hand to try to get him to slow down, but he just tugged back, making you stumble a little. Pulling you off to the side he lifted you onto his back, continuing down the street quickly, weaving through the crowds of people easily.

“What’s your friend’s name?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Tomura,” he paused for a second, “he’s… not as used to people as I am. Women especially. Just, uh, be aware of that,” he finished, still sounding unsure of his words. You tensed a little and he rubbed his thumbs gently along your thighs as he supported them.

The streets became less crowded as he carried you, eventually setting you down and holding your hand as you maneuvered through desolate alleys. You came to what looked like the back door to a business and Dabi entered, pulling you in behind him before slamming the door shut and leaving you both in darkness.

#mha #bnha #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #my hero academia dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #demon shit

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winterlovesong1 · 3 years

Text

See below the cut for all my @riverdalepromptathon entries

Shout out to @sullypants and @imreallyloveleee for putting on such a wonderful event during this hiatus, and anyone else who might have been involved in the organization of this event. Also virtual high five to all those who participated however much or however little, all your contributions put a smile to someone’s face and were appreciated ❤️

Week 1: inspiration

Summary: Jughead gets some unexpected inspiration. S5 canon divergence.

-/-

It’s two in the morning, his allotted time to write while technically still on his shift. He’s sitting at the counter on his chosen bar stool, his laptop glowing brighter than the diner neon, flashing it’s blank white screen like a beacon.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 2: nightfall

Summary: S5 spec/reconciliation kinda

-/-

She waits by the river she’s known since she was a child, near the tree with carved initials of people who pledged forever, not knowing what it meant.

(she knew what it meant once)

She looks out at the vast landscape of water, mesmerized by the night’s light upon its glassy exterior.

She thinks did it always appear this way or was I too blind to ever notice.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 3/Week 11/Week 12: happenstance

Summary: Bughead AU - Jughead grew up in Riverdale, experienced some of its trauma, but moved away after high school. Betty was never a part of Riverdale. They never met. Until now...

-/-

He had written his first book, loosely based on his childhood, then found the inspiration for a second, which was more a compilation of short stories than a long narrative, and as for the last one, the one he was never too fond of, that one he didn’t even try. It involved no story at all as it was actually a collection of advice to young writers, his agent’s idea after the marketable popularity of the first two.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 4: the stars said once again my dear

Summary: Little moments where Betty and Jughead dance.

-/-

It’s a game the three of them play often - one that Betty insisted on playing and they, like most things she suggested, went along with it.

(C’mon guys, it’ll be fun she would exclaim with her ponytail swinging at the back of her head, her body slightly shaking from excitement)

Read the rest at A03.

Week 5: this is what is left

Summary: Bughead Marvel “snap” AU - no mention of superheroes but the snap was a real event that occurred and this is how it plays out. The rules of the blip were changed for story purposes as well. Two chapters set in the same universe but from two different perspectives.

-/-

He wasn’t wearing it when it happened.

The well-worn, knitted beanie that she was now rubbing between her fingers, the gray fabric almost silken between her thumb and forefinger. It was the only item in the grave presence of nothing that gave what occurred any semblance of weight.

He said he felt odd.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 6: remind me of those midnights

Summary: Jughead leaves Betty voicemails through the years.

-/-

Archie is holding the device, somewhat waving it in his hand as the curled cord attached to it swings in the air, but that unsure feeling is still there in his stomach, so he doesn’t immediately take it.

“Give it a try Jug,” and his smile is wide across his face as he holds the phone out to him, but he doesn’t share in any of his enthusiasm.

“Who would I even call?” He says shrugging his shoulders and shuffling his feet on the kitchen tile.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 7: the end credits we deserve

Summary: Bughead Future AU - Both Jug and Betty try and solve their latest mystery: what scares their daughter during family movie night.

Based on the prompts: Twilight Drive In, Hopeful, and Black for @riverdalepromptathon

-/-

They started with the quiet ones now that they both felt she was of age. Nothing with too much stimulation, which included those with no surprises or overtly loud noises. But even with the blandest of films, their daughter still managed to squirm on the sofa between them, nuzzling her face onto the chest of whichever one of them was nearest at the time, the crook of their arms becoming her haven out of some sort of alarm or worry they both couldn’t place.

Read the rest at A03.

Week 8: I wanted before but what I got was now

Summary: Veronica needs someone to help investigate her ex husband - and she knows exactly who to call. Set in the S5 universe. Based on the prompts The Pembrooke, Brown, and the lyrics I wanna feel a different kind of tension / ya, you guessed it the kind that’s fun.

-/-

“I need your help.”

Her voice shook anxiously over the phone and Veronica’s voice never shakes, or least she never recalls it that way. She always remembered it as confident, steady, and somewhat abrupt even if she was completely wrong, even if she felt slightly worried or scared out of her mind, it always cut through the air with it’s fearlessness and determination.

Read at AO3.

Week 9: this feeling leaves me breathless

Summary: Betty and Jug are trapped in a cabin in the woods after a moment of distress. Set in the S5 universe.

-/-

It was dark, cramped, and the air was thinning as the minutes passed by causing her palms to sweat and beads of perspiration begin to form around her hairline. There was dust across her skin, a mixture of earth and wood shavings and perhaps ash too, but who knows. Whatever the substances, the thin veil of it made her feel incredibly grimy and intensified her already immense fatigue.

Read at A03.

Week 10: patience

Summary: Betty has been having nightmares. Jughead knows. He waits for her to tell him. Based on the prompts gold and lyrics I’ll pretend that I don’t know of your sins until you are ready to confess

-/-

The first time they are on the edge of town and she’s sitting beside him in the driver’s seat.

Her shoulders shake and her hands tremble as her fingers tighten around the fabric of her jacket. He can barely make out her whispers that are originating from her unconscious.

Read on A03

#winter’s masterlist of fic #winter’s riverdale Promptathon submissions #Bughead fanfic #writing: winter's

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mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k

Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.

Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.

All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.

As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.

You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”

Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.

“Sensei is really popular.”

“Please don’t sound so surprised.”

As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.

“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.

“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.

Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.

“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”

He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.

“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”

You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.

“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.

With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.

“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.

As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.

Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.

You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.

As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.

“Oh no, you don’t like them!”

Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.

“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.

“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”

Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.

“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”

“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.

“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”

“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.

“I should get these to my room before they wither.”

“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.

However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.

“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”

“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.

“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”

“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”

“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.

“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.

You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.

“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”

“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.

“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.

You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.

You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.

“Senpai!”

He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.

“Y/n-chan, what-”

“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.

“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”

You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.

“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.

Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.

“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.

“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.

“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”

“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”

He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.

“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”

“I’d love to go on a date!”

You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.

“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.

“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”

“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.

“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”

“Never!”

#jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuuta x reader #gojo satoru #yuuta okkotsu

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imissjoongsmullet · 3 years

Text

My Prince (5)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 7K

Author’s Note: this is long overdue but also, this is just long! I just couldn’t stop writing and so now this chapter is 7K so yeah ENJOY!! ✌️

Let me know what you think, good or bad, I love the feedback ♥

►

Fine.

Those last words he'd said to you kept playing in your mind the following days. Technically he'd said other words since but they'd been cloaked in formalities; commands from a prince to a servant, nothing more. You'd really screwed up this time, you'd lost him forever. It was a thing you'd known would happen from the start but that didn't soften the pain now festering in your chest.

Minghao had met with Zhong Mei, as he had supposed to that day. He'd been a perfect picture of royalty, graceful and pleasant; and she'd been lovely as she always was, smiling all the way through the meal. Meanwhile you had stood flanking the wall with Tou Ma, trying to keep your tears from spilling over. You'd kept your eyes down, counting the colorful mosaics that threaded the shiny black flooring until the whole thing was over.

Not that any of it was over of course.

After the prince and his bride's first official meeting, the two were ushered out into the gardens to "spend some time alone" while you helped Tou Ma with a another seemingly endless string of wedding-related tasks.

Slowly but surely your body reverted to autopilot, working your hands raw and your legs sore. You barely realized you were spacing out until at last, you lied down in your sheets on the floor of the maid's quarters and cried. You cried and cried in stuttered silence, praying the sun would not come up again. You didn't know how you'd face another day. You thought about feigning illness but knew Tou Ma would not be so easily fooled.

“You’ll be out in the gardens today,” the head maid explained with a weary expression. This whole wedding business seemed to have taken a toll on the old woman as well. “Floral arrangements need to be decided on and I need you to oversee the whole thing gets done in time. Can I trust you with that?”

Your head bobbed up and down faster than was polite. A rush charged through your chest at the idea of spending time with the flowers. Despite your frequent complaining as a gardener, you’d always enjoyed taking care of the vivid, fragrant plants that grew in the royal gardens. But more than that, you knew what this request must mean.

“Mother!” you cried, breaking out into a run. She looked older and shorter somehow, but her embrace was as tight as ever.

Of course, your parents would be working on the flower arrangements as well.

“Look at you!” she said, holding your face in her dirt-stained hands, “my daughter, a real part of the castle.”

Overwhelmed with grief for the life you’d left behind, a sob welled up from the back of your throat but before it could break free into the morning air, Tou Ma interrupted.

“There is lots of work to be done so we better start at once,” she said matter-of-factly, unrolling a long piece of parchment, “I have sat down with both the royal family and the Zhong family respectively and decided on a theme and color scheme for the celebration. I have listed all requirements specifically. The types, the arrangements, the placements, all of it has been meticulously planned.” She then turned her head your way. “I’m leaving you in charge of making sure everything is accounted for on the day. This is a big task, but regrettably, I am far too busy taking care of everything else to take this on as well. And you are the gardener’s daughter, after all. Do not disappoint me.” With another one of her stern looks, she handed you the scroll, gave a curt bow to your parents and walked away.

Now this was a task you were up for. You gazed around you, at the stretches of colorful flowers that ran as far as the eye could see. There were rows and rows of chrysanthemums that spawned in colorful formations, bushes of peonies flanking cobbled pathways, a whole field of the most delicious-smelling lavender, lilies and azaleas and roses and narcissus flowers and you felt all at once, at home. For a moment you seemed to forget the prince and your feelings. It was like a giant slimy toad had just slipped right off of your shoulders, leaving you feeling light as air.

Looking over the list, you were up for quite the challenge. The sheer amount of flowers that would need to be harvested for this event, on such short notice, was startling. But with the help of your parents and their staff, you were confident you’d be able to pull it off. You spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon rushing from one end of the garden to the other, figuring out which plants would be needed, when they’d need to be cut and who would craft what particular piece. It was a little strange, being in charge when all the gardeners were quite a bit older and definitely more experienced than you, but your parents kept encouraging you whenever you stuttered.

“I’m so proud of you,” your mother said as you both sat down for a rest underneath a pine tree on a hill overlooking the garden. She pulled out a packed lunch for the both of you: rice wrapped in bamboo leaves with plum fillings.

“Mother,” you sighed, not knowing how to react. You felt like a fraud. You weren’t what she thought you’d become at the castle. You weren’t some high-standing servant, near and dear to the king and queen. You were a screwup. You’d caused so much trouble since your arrival at the castle you were quite frankly surprised you hadn’t been banished yet.

You could see most of the royal gardens from here; well, the most beautiful parts anyways. There was almost no one out there today. Everyone was most likely busy preparing for the wedding except—

Minghao was strolling through the rose garden ways away from the hill you were sitting. You could see him clearly, his upper body sticking out over the bushes. Zhong Mei was beside him, wearing a white robe with some sort of lilac pattern on it. You couldn’t see the expression on their faces but the close vicinity with which they walked by each other made your stomach turn upside down. Your eyes followed the two figures until their path ventured right and a large chestnut tree obscured your view.

“Let’s just keep working,” you said, getting up as you folded your lunch back closed and slid it in your pocket.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, child.” Your mother’s voice hadn’t changed at all, croaky like a frog but filled with warmth.

You kept your back turned to her, hugging yourself close.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“My little flower,” her voice came from behind and you felt a hand land on your shoulder, “something is bothering you.”

“I’m fine.”

She chuckled at that. “Liar. I can tell by the way your shoulders hunch,” she said, turning you around to face her, “and look, your eyebrows are all droopy.”

You shook your head. “First of all, that doesn’t make any sense and besides, I don’t want to talk about it.” You knew at once it had been a vain attempt to fend off the stubborn woman. You watched her heave a deep sigh. She was shorter than you but somehow always managed to make you feel like a baby. Her wrinkled eyes scanned your face quizzically for a few seconds before her lips curled into a knowing grin.

“You need to let go, flower,” she said, poking you in the chest with a dirty finger.

You stared at her incredulously. “Let what go?”

The old woman rolled her eyes, smiling still. “Whatever it is that’s causing all of this good-for-nothing heartache!” She patted you on both shoulders. “Go on, away with it!”

A tiny smile crept its way onto your face. “It’s not that easy.”

Your mother sighed deeply once more and turned to look out over the gardens and the castle.

“I know, dear,” she said, “the castle comes with complications these gardens could never carry. That’s why me and your father stay out here, between the fruits and the flowers. You on the other hand,” she went on, turning back to you and taking your hand, “you have some reason for staying at the castle, no?”

Your face burned at the words. You didn’t know what exactly your mother was implying but the way her deep eyes bore into yours now made you feel awfully exposed.

“You can always come back to us, of course,” your mother explained further, squeezing your hand, “but if your heart lies no longer here—”

“It doesn’t matter where my heart lies,” you cut in, taking a step back, “how I feel doesn’t matter.”

Your mother’s eyes creased as they filled with something you hated to see. Was it pity? Understanding? Whatever, you didn’t need any of it. For the smallest of moments you’d thought your problems might be solved with some wise parental advice but that had clearly been a child’s thinking. This problem didn’t have solving. You just had to learn to live with the fact that Minghao was gone forever and he’d never look at you the way he had that night under the orange trees. He’d never smile at you the way he had when he taught you how to read, he’d never touch you the way he had that evening in his chambers— or even— you couldn’t bear remembering his kiss. It was too much. It should haver have happened.

“Let’s just keep going, please,” you said at last, keeping your eyes on the grass between your feet.

The rest of the day went by like a tidal wave. In a matter of hours, you’d crossed the whole of the gardens at least half a dozen times, hauling around heavy equipment, making lists, delegating tasks and making stupid amounts of mini mock-ups of the flower pieces Tou Ma had asked for. By the time you entered the castle, you were so exhausted you thought you might just crash in a closet on the way to your room. The hustle and bustle inside the castle walls had died down as well. Aside from the occasional servant, the dark hallways were deserted and quiet. Yawning freely, you shuffled your way through them, only to get startled by the sudden noise not so far away.

“Silence, son,” a voice whispered irritably, “the castle is asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hao.

Without thinking, you approached a door you’d passed before. You didn’t know what lay behind it, only that, right now, it was being occupied by the emperor and his son, prince Minghao.

“You’ve heard by now the protests haven’t seized I assume. We’re losing not only the Shingmin people but all the highlands. I have tried to protect you from your destiny for far too long I’m afraid.”

There was a long pause. You felt the pain of it right through the wood of the door.

“My son,” the emperor added wearily, “I did not want to leave this country to you on the brink of war. But the season of peace has run out. You are young and overly frivolous at times but we must believe you are capable. It is time to stop thinking about yourself and take on the responsibility you’ve always known was yours to take on. You have the power to free us all. Your legend will be told for centuries to come.”

“My legend,” Minghao spoke at last. His voice was dry and void of emotion. You wanted to go to him. You wanted to help but you didn’t know how.

Krrrr

The floorboard creaked under your feet as you’d subconsciously leaned in closer to the door. There was no way they hadn’t heard that. You pushed away from the door and set off at a run, heart racing, all the way to the maid’s quarters.

Your covers were warm and your eyelids heavy but regardless, you couldn’t seem to find your way to sleep. You tossed and turned until you were sure your hair would be a rat’s nest the following morning. Your body was lying on the floor, between dozens of happily snoozing servants, but your mind was still at that door, listening in. You knew Minghao wouldn’t appreciate it but you felt sorry for him. The weight resting on his shoulders was colossal compared to the slimy toad that tended to bother yours. His legend was beyond famous. Every person in Namin knew it like they knew the color of the sky. Every person in Namin was counting on him. You could tell by the way they looked at him. He was a savior to them. But he was just a boy. You knew that. He knew that. He was a boy, desperately trying to figure out how to live up to a legend that was born with him; a boy trying to solve an impossible riddle, trying to unlock some big secret, trying to somehow heal an entire nation.

All these thoughts floated haphazardly through your head, bouncing and clashing within the walls of your skull until, sudden as a bolt of lightning, they clicked together.

A Vast Unfathomable Secret.

That’s what the book must have been for all along. You shot up from the floor, wide awake now, and set off towards the prince’s library.

It made so much sense you cursed yourself for not seeing it before. You burst through the heavy oak doors and went to light a candle. The room looked beautiful at night, moonlight shining through the circular windows, casting hazy glows on the walls of books.

You had no idea how to start. You’d searched for this book so many times. Then again, you hadn’t been able to make your way through the entire room yet. Filled with stubborn determination, you grabbed your candle tightly and climbed up to a section you hadn’t explored yet. You could read the spines now, thanks to Minghao. In this particular section alone were books about geography, fortune telling, animals and plants you’d never even heard of, as well as poetry. You were tempted to open some of them but knew you had a more important goal. You made the mental note of reading as many books as you possibly could when all of this was over; if Minghao would continue allowing you to come here, at least.

When the first section revealed nothing, you moved on to another, and then another. You’d finish off the whole room before you’d give up. You had to help the prince in any way you could; if you couldn’t be with him, at least you could still be of use to him.

When you woke up, bright sunlight was already streaming into the room generously and your body ached in all kinds of places. You immediately knew you were in trouble. You’d fallen asleep slumped against a bookcase and were now most likely extremely late for your appointment in the gardens.

Tripping over your tunic, you burst through the library doors and onto the long deck. It was a humid and hot day. Up ahead in the distance, like tiny brown specs against the vibrant green grass, were the gardeners’ huts, where you were supposed to meet with everyone to start harvesting and putting together the flower pieces for the wedding.

Oh shoot, the wedding. The wedding was tomorrow. It was actually tomorrow. Not wanting to waste any more time than you already had, you jumped over the railing and tumbled into the grass below. One of your feet landed in something wet but that didn’t matter now. You ran to the huts, not caring about how the long grass and prickly bushes dirtied your clothes, but when you finally arrived, panting like a dog, there was no one there. Instead, a note hung lifelessly on your parents’ door.

Flower We’ve gone ahead and started harvesting See you soon

A huge wave of gratitude coursed through you at those words.

Thanks mother

You raced through the gardens, catching up with everything that was going on.

Thanks to your parents, you were still somewhat on schedule. Aside from delegating tasks, you helped in creating bouquets and garlands and wreaths in rich oranges and reds, as well as deep pinks and purples. The air was sticky and dense. Sweat crawled down your temples as you worked beside your parents, but you were glad for the hard labor; it distracted you. Your nails blackened and your hair filled with twigs and pollen. It felt good. You were surprised when the sun had only just started going down as the last of the decorations got finished.

“Don’t underestimate us,” you dad said with a grand smile, “I don’t know how you fancy people do it at the castle, but we work fast.”

You smiled back at him, glad to have made it in time.

You moved the decorations to a safe place they could be preserved until the morning, which took another hour or so but after that, you were all done. Tou Ma hadn’t even given you any other tasks for the day, which meant, you were free.

All at once, an unavoidable exhaustion took over you. The hot sun and humid air had drained your body that had grown unaccustomed to the life of a gardener. Another reason was probably the fact that you’d slept propped up against a bookcase the night before. A hot bath sounded amazing right about now. And after you might even be able to take a nap? Yes, that sounded good. You needed sleep.

Sighing and panting, you dragged yourself back to the castle. Instead of the main entrance, you chose a smaller door on the left wall that was meant for servants mostly. Coming around the corner you let out a sudden gasp, finding the door blocked by a broad-shouldered man with a long scar across his cheek.

“Identify yourself,” he said sternly, looking your muddy form up and down. The side door had never been guarded before. You supposed it was another wedding-related thing.

After explaining who you were and what you’d been doing outside, the man stepped aside, grunting something inaudible as you passed. Whatever, you thought, entering a modest-looking corridor. At least you’d be able to reach the maid’s quarters without running into—

“WHAT IS THIS MESS?!”

Tou Ma.

The tall lady strode towards you, looking like an underfed but furious bull.

“Look at the floors, they have been polished just this morning and now!” her voice reached a crescendo, “look at this! You want me to seizure!?”

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, "I've been preparing the flowers and—"

"Are they done?"

"They are—"

"So something has gone right today at least! Honestly it's suffocating, all this work in so little time I swear the emperor wants me to lose my marbles I've still got so much to do, this whole thing is ridiculous! Could they move the wedding to next week so the castle can prepare to its fullest abilities? Probably but will they? No, no of course they won't that would make my job too easy, wouldn't it?!"

You were staring into the face of a deranged woman. Tou Ma was sweating the white powder right off her face, fanning herself for dear life.

"Um," you tried, once the woman seemed to be taking a break to catch her breath, "is there anything I can help with?" You regretted the offer the moment the words left your lips but you couldn't stand seeing her this way. No matter how much the vile old woman tormented you, seeing her usually strong personality weakened like this made you feel sort of bad.

Tou Ma eyed you suspiciously for a few moments before she caved.

"Very well," she said, "you will run an errand for me. In my haste I forgot to bring the empress' scarf out with the rest of her robes for the celebration. They need to bask in the moonlight tonight."

"Of course," you replied, though you had no idea what she was talking about. Wealthy people really did have all kinds of strange rituals.

"They will be in her private chambers," she went on, "I'd fetch them myself but I'm on my way to a meeting with the chef and I've yet to go over the guest list with security and her majesty will need her bath before nightfall and I haven't had a scrap to eat since sunrise and—"

"That's alright," you cut in, for the head maid was panting again, "I'll grab her scarf and bring it to the deck, I guess?"

"The south east deck on the top floor, child, that's where we're leaving them out," Tou Ma explained, clutching her chest.

"Got it," you said, turning on your heels.

"It is a scarlet thing," Tou Ma call after you, "silk with gold-thread details."

"Okay," you called back as you made your way down the corridor.

"Child!" her screechy voice cried before you could round a corner, "I beg of you, wash up first will you?"

You did as you were told and had your bath. It was not the long, relaxing bath you'd hoped for but it did manage to wash away some of the exhaustion from your body. You allowed your muscles to relax for a few minutes, hopped out and hurried towards the royal quarters. You'd only ever visited Minghao's chambers; his parent's area was completely new territory. The place was guarded heavily by men who only let you in after a thorough interrogation and once inside, you realized you had no idea of where to look for the scarf.

You were in a rectangular room with shiny, red-toned walls and floors. It was completely bare save for the golden candelabras that lined the walls. Two black and gold doors that faced each other waited for you.

Clueless, you tried the first door. You knocked twice and waited until you were sure you weren’t disrupting something. When nothing happened, you opened it. You were met with complete darkness. With a bit of a struggle, you pulled free one of the candelabras from the hallway and entered the dark room.

It was extremely minimal. There were no windows. Only a simple bookcase and a large writing desk. Scrolls of parchment and bottles of ink lay spread out across it. Seeing them made you feel suddenly feel as though you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. This was the emperor’s private study.

Backing away fast, you found yourself in the hallway once more. You tried the room opposite the study, entering after knocking. This room was anything but dark. The whole west wall was non-existent, giving sight to stretches of grassland and the mountains up in the far distance. As the sun set, it cast a breathtaking pink veil over the master bedroom. The bed, sitting on a raised platform was impeccably made. You could just envision Tou Ma arranging the perfectly white pillows by size, making sure not a single crinkle was left in sight. The room was so clean though, you couldn’t imagine the scarf would be here. There was no closet or dresser for it to hide in either, however, there was a small doorway in the corner of the room, half-covered by a silk curtain. As you approached you smelled the sweet aroma of incense. Gently pulling back the curtain, you peered inside, finding a room that was more or less the same size as the bedroom, but which felt smaller due to the abundance of stuff that was in it.

The walls were virtually covered with dressers, all identical, ornate and black lacquered. There were ottomans in various jewel tones on which piles of discarded robes lay, and in the corner stood a intricately carved wooden vanity with a mirror that reached the ceiling.

This must be it, you thought as you entered. You carefully went through the clothes on the stools. You wished you had time to admire their craftsmanship but Tou Ma’s exasperated expression kept your mind on the mission at hand. The vanity was cluttered with all kinds of trinkets you’d never seen before. You supposed there were the creams and powders used for beauty purposes. There were a couple of small drawers that opened to reveal more beauty products and a couple of scarves that clearly weren’t the one you were looking for. You began to feel tired again. Gingerly, you sat down in front of the vanity. Gazing at yourself in the mirror it occurred to you how much you didn’t belong in a room like this. You let your eyes drift over the the reflection of the cluttered space, until they landed on something they hadn’t noticed before. There was an unlocked chest sitting in a corner by the entrance. Multiple colored fabrics were spilling out from its mouth. You rose up and hurried over. There were so many scarves it was hard to make out where one piece of fabric ended and the next began. Getting impatient, you started pulling out the contents of the chest, keeping a lookout for anything scarlet and gold. Your heart sank however as you were reaching the bottom without having found something that even remotely looked like the empress’ wedding scarf. Not before long, the chest was empty, except for something dark and solid that lay all the way at the bottom, and bunches of fabric lay all around you on the floor.

What were you going to do? You’d promised Tou Ma.

Sighing, you peered into the chest. You now noticed the leftover item was a small book. You knew you should leave it alone; this was clearly an item the empress liked to keep to herself, but your curiosity got the better of you. You pulled the book out of the chest and held it up to the light. It was a small book, the brown leather cover a bit tethered and the gold writing on the front slightly faded. The golden lily, however, was still unmistakable.

You heart lurched as the title registered in your mind.

A Vast Unfathomable Secret.

It was right here in your hands; exactly as Minghao had described it. What wisdom was inside this little, brown book? And why was it here, in the empress’ wardrobe of all places? Nevermind. You forced your questions behind closed doors. None of those things mattered right now.

This was it: your chance to help Minghao.

You were at his door in no time and in your haste, you didn't even pause to knock before coming in.

"Minghao, I found it! I f—" you gasped as something warm crashed into you, sending you to the floor.

Minghao stood over you with a blank stare on his face. The coldness in his eyes sent a pang of doubt through your system. You shouldn’t have barged in like this. What were you thinking? Just as you were about to apologize and leave however, his eyes landed on the book clutched tightly in your hand. They widened, his eyebrows crinkling slightly, his lips opening in stunned silence.

"I found your book," you tried again, barely able to look at him.

Nothing happened for a good few seconds in which you wondered whether Minghao had fallen in some sort of trance, but then he knelt down beside you and took your hand. Your heart leapt as he pulled you up. His hand was so warm.

“You—” he said, staring from you, to the book held between you and then right back up to you. You noticed his eyes start to burn with intense emotion. He looked happy at first but you soon realized there was much more than joy behind his expression. He stared at you unblinkingly, standing perfectly still as a statue, but clearly waging a violent war within himself. You thought for a moment he might cry, his eyes turning sadder and sadder until, to your surprise, his lips formed the tiniest smile and he let out a sigh. You had not a moment to react to this strange turn of events because the next thing he did was grab tight hold of both your arms and kiss you.

This was nothing like the kiss you’d shared in the gardens. This kiss was the unleashing of desire. He held you close as his lips claimed yours with desperation. He did not let go when you thought he would and neither did you want him to. The book lay forgotten on the floor as, at last, you were all his. You felt his hand move up to your face, brushing a bit of your hair back, then cupping you by the back of the neck, begging you to stay close for those few last moments before, inevitably, reality struck.

He pulled back abruptly, looking completely stunned.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said, his face swiftly filling with hurt again.

“Hao,” you replied, out of breath yourself, “wait,” because the prince was already pushing past you.

“I have the final wedding rehearsal,” he said, hurrying out the room before you could do anything to stop him.

You stood with yourself in quiet for quite some time, staring at the door.

Emotions were starting to bubble up inside you but you were so sick and tired of crying you forced your tears at bay by focusing on the only thing that could possibly distract you right now.

The book was still on the floor and now, it was begging to be read.

You sat down on the floor and picked it up. It didn’t feel heavy at all. You always imagined the book Minghao had been looking for would be huge; some grand exposition of wisdom. Maybe battle techniques? Or secret information on dragons, perhaps? But what could a tiny book like this one do to save an empire, or in the least, its prince? Heart pounding, you opened it, only to stare in confusion at something that made no sense to you at all.

Once upon a time, it read.

Once upon a time, there was a mountain. On that mountain stood a castle so tall it could reach the clouds in the sky and in it lived the great ruler. The ruler was very proud of his castle, because it stood taller than any other castle. The inhabitants of the castle sometimes complained about the cold winds that blew through the windows. They muddled up their long hair and blew away their paperwork. But of course this was all worth the magnificent views they got when they looked outside, according to the ruler. At the bottom of the mountain was a cave that lead to a whole underground town. In that town lived many people. Their days were clouded in darkness but the earth around them kept them warm and safe. One night, the ruler’s son was asleep when the wind whooshed right into his bedroom. It picked him up like a newborn baby and took him out through the window. The son shouted and cried for help but no one could hear him over the raging wind. The little boy shrieked all the way down until the wind plopped him down unto the grass. There he continued to cry in the darkness, helplessly, for no one would be able to hear him so far down. Little did the boy know, someone did hear him cry. All the way down in the cave town, a girl was sitting up in bed, wondering what that whining noise was. Curious, she crawled through the tunnels of her town, following the strange sound until she was at the mouth of the cave and saw the boy sitting in the grass. “What’s wrong?” she asked the boy. The boy jumped up at the sight of the girl, his cheeks flushing. “I fell down,” he answered. “From all the way up there?” the girl asked with big eyes. “Of course,” the boy said, “where else would I come from?” “I live in the ground,” the girl said, “how strange is this?” The boy and girl sat together in the grass, talking about their homes all night. The boy explained how cold his room was, and how the wind took his toys away from him, tales to which the girl hollered in disbelief. She then told him that she couldn’t even see her toys because it was so dark in her house and the boy laughed at how silly that was. When the sun came up the boy and the girl noticed a black dot in the sky. They watched as the dot grew bigger and bigger until the boy recognized his father. He was hanging from a big balloon that was slowly letting him down to the ground. “What is this?!” he bellowed when he noticed the girl. “She is my new friend,” replied the boy with a big smile, “she lives in a cave.” Just then, murmurings roused from the mouth of the cave. People emerged from it, chattering to one another until they set their eyes upon the scene in the grass. “What is this?!” they all cried at once. “He is my friend from the mountain,” said the girl, eyes sparkling, “the wind brought him to me.” The ruler and the cave people were outraged. It was plain as day that people from the castle shouldn’t get along with people who lived underground. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” shouted the ruler. “It’s a disgrace!” the cavetowners roared. The ruler grabbed his son by the arm and tied him to his big balloon, just as the cave dwellers took hold of the girl, dragging her back into the dark. Days and weeks and months passed and the boy and the girl didn’t meet, at least, that was the people around them thought. Every night, the boy crawled onto his father’s balloon while everyone else was asleep and drifted down below, where the girl would greet him with a smile and they would spend a wonderful time. Over time, the boy felt something grow within him; it was a secret. It started small as a little firefly, hovering around his empty chest. But by the time the boy was as tall as his father, the secret had become so vast and unfathomable, it was like a fiery blaze that enveloped him entirely. At any moment, he felt the secret might burst free. He could not let that happen. It frightened the boy so much, he began to keep his lips shut tight. When people around him spoke, he just stood by and watched. When his father asked him a question he simply nodded or shrugged. Only at night, when he ran free with the girl, did he open his mouth. The most beautiful sounds spilled out, laughter and song and shouts of glee. As he did so, he felt the secret grow and grow but he did not care in the night; he did not care how the inferno within him swelled against the confines of his body, how it roared on inside, begging to break free. As much as the boy ignored these happenings, like all secrets, break free, it did. He felt it rumble in his stomach first, then move up towards his throat, just as he’d sat down for breakfast. He clasped his neck in surprise. He wanted to shout at the people around him to hide, for the secret was surely coming, but not a second later, it exploded from his lips like a flaming tornado. It took over the room in an instant. Soon, the whole castle was set aflame. People cried for help but they were too far up for anyone to hear. They crawled up on the roof, shouting to the clouds in desperation but no one called back. Trapped by the flames, the boy knew only one thing to do. He heaved himself over the ledge of the dining room window and looked down. In a voice as loud as he could muster, he called for the girl. His ears picked up something of a reply but he couldn’t be sure; after all, the fire around him crackled obnoxiously loud. But she must be there, he thought, she would never abandon him. Gathering all his courage he leaned over the edge and let go, falling away from the castle and his father and the people who didn’t understand, towards the arms of freedom, where there was no need for secrets, where he was alright, just the way he was.

The book trembled in your hands as you finished the story. This was nothing like you’d imagined A Vast Unfathomable Secret to be about. So many things ran through your mind but right at the forefront was, overwhelmingly, Minghao. Minghao, Minghao, Minghao. All this time, you thought the book would reveal some kind of clever solution to help him save Namin. In the end, the book had revealed nothing more than his heart.

You knew you weren’t supposed to be here. You were probably supposed to check in with Tou Ma and help prepare for the celebration but you couldn’t do that. You had to see him, even if it meant watching him from the sidelines as he ran through his final wedding rehearsal. You were half hidden behind a wooden pillar, feeling as if your knees might give out. Minghao walked aside his mother to the front of the room, where a tall monk waited on a raised platform. The room wasn’t decorated properly yet but it had been filled with so much candlelight, the whole thing looked enchanting nonetheless. Zhong Mei came out as well, skin glowing in the warm firelight. She joined Minghao on the platform, facing him. There was a bit of a pause as Mei’s parents did some fervent explaining to the monk. The spectators in the room began murmuring amongst themselves. Your eyes never left Minghao though. He looked nervous. His cool mask wasn’t sliding on as easy as usual. He looked down for a long time before starting to scan the room. A shiver ran up your spine when his eyes suddenly met yours. He was quick to look away though. It seemed like Mei was saying something to him then because he nodded awkwardly at her in reply, though he couldn’t look at her.

Finally, Mei’s parents stepped aside and the monk stepped forward. He cleared his throat as he straightened out his robe, ready to start his speech.

BANG

A thunderous crashing sound broke the silence and the whole room shook.

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Friday #1

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read/Save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/31733458

{training dates}

Ship: olivarry

Status: dating

Warnings: none :)

WC: 1,646

Barry’s POV

It sort of all started when I got my powers. And I ran to Oliver.

“I’ve spent my whole life searching for the impossible, never imagining that I would become the impossible.”

“So why come to me? Something tells me you didn’t just run 600 miles to say hi to a friend.” “All my life I’ve wanted to do, more. Be more. And now I am. And the first chance I get to help someone, I screw up. What if Wells is right? What if I’m not a hero? What if I am just some guy who got stuck by lighting?”

“I don’t think that bolt of lighting struck you Barry,” Oliver paused, “I think it chose you.”

“I’m just not sure I’m like you, Oliver. I don’t know if I can be some, vigilante,” I whispered, looking down.

“You can be better. You can inspire people. In a way I never could. Watching over your city like a guardian angel, making a difference. Saving people,” he smirked, “In a flash.” He walked to the edge of the building, “Take your own advice, wear a mask.” Oliver then got out his bow to zipline off the rooftop.

“Oliver, wait,” I called, thinking.

“Yeah, Barry?” he said, turning around.

“I-i can’t fight. I can’t be strong. And tough.”

“Yes, you can. Meet me at my club, Verdant, in a week. Same time.”

“Your club?”

“Yes, my club.”

And then he did his robin hood and swung away.

A lot happens in a week. Take down metas, learn to swirl my arms to make wind, realize I have a bit of a crush on Oliver Queen. Please ignore the last one.

I arrived at his club the following week at midday. During that time, I recalled that his secret lair was in the sublevel of his club.

“Hello Barry,” he greeted.

“Hi. So, um-”

“Come at me. I’m going to hit you with an arrow.” “Sure you are,” I smirked.

“Go, go.” I sped off 100 or so meters, and then ran straight at him. He fired an arrow, and it slowly made its way towards me. With a cheeky smile, I grabbed it and stopped.

“Nice try Ollie, to-OCHHCHHC. Fuck-what?”

“Awareness of your surroundings,” Oliver said, pulling the arrows out of my back.

“Ow ow it hurts.” “That was lesson one. The battlefield is just that, it’s a field. It’s not one person in one place, it's a network of people all trying to kill,” he places a finger on my chest, “You.”

I was still in pain, and not too fond of him.

“You know there are less painful ways to teach that lesson?” “You showed up, you knew what you were getting yourself into,” he stated blatantly. “Well-no. No. I didn’t really want an arrow in my back.” “Would you prefer to train on a deserted Island on the coast of the China Sea?” he said jokingly.

“No. Fine.”

He led me down to his base.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, pointing to where a punching bag was set up.

“This place gets cooler every time,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Punch,” he instructed. I started speed punching the bag, and it almost immediately broke.

“Well I’d say that was pretty good,” I said, smiling.

“Horrible. No control.” “What? I broke the bag.” “Don’t speed punch. Punch normally,” he said, replacing the bag.

I started punching as hard as I could.

“Untuck your thumb,” he commented, “You’re going to break it.”

I kept punching, taking his feedback and applying it.

“Wrist straight,” he said, taking my wrist into his hand and holding it steady.

Almost 45 minutes later, I was exhausted.

“My arms, I, I can’t feel them.” “Good, now fight me.” “Excuse me?” “Sparring, let's go. No fucking speedy shit, alright?” “Ollie, I don’t think I physically can.” “Oh yes you can.” He took my arm and dragged me onto the mat. I threw some weak punches at him, not moving. He was not holding back.

“Oliver, are you just going to continue to BEAT me up?” “When you start trying, I will stop punching.” I gritted my teeth and started throwing more meaningful punches.

“Good, come on, keep your feet right.”

I threw another punch.

“Don’t lean back, move forward.” After another 15 minutes of sparring, he called it.

“Done.”

“Is that all?” I joked.

“I mean we can do more,” he teased back.

“Nah I’m good. I feel like I should get a certificate, like, ‘congrats you completed your first Oliver Queen superhero training session.’”

“Idiot,” he smirked.

“Thanks.” “Right, I should get back to my city. Same time next week?”

“Yes.”

I reached out to hug him.

“I’m not really a hugger, Barry.” “Well, technically I could just speed and hug you, so you might as well just…”

He smiled, and we briefly hugged.

“Thanks Ollie.”

“See ya.”

Most sessions were similar to that. Well, not similar but the same vibe. He had me slap water for two hours once. He made me lift sand another time. Anyway, the training was hard and weird, but it seemed to be working. However, they started to shift. We were mainly sparring after three months, him giving me tips.

“Good sessions,” he said, chucking me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I huffed, collapsing into a chair.

He walked over to his salmon ladder, and he pulled his shirt off. Update, the crush got much worse which could, really, only be expected.

He started to go upwards, and I did definitely stare. Him jumping down caught my attention.

“You wanna get some food?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, yeah. Where?”

Where ended up being big belly burger, and, as the flash, I ate a shedload.

“That. Is. Disgusting,” Ollie said, smiling endearingly.

“You do you.”

“So, how’s everything in Central?”

“Yeah, it’s metahuman and that.”

“Right, descriptive.” We both chuckled.

“How’s everyone here?”

“Oh we’re hanging on as usual.” “Mine wasn’t descriptive enough,” I said, sarcastically.

“What, you want me to give a rundown of every person in my life?”

No, I want to know if you and Felicity still have this weird “in love” thing going on. “You know what, sure,” I smirked. “You are a child, Barry Allen.”

I just laughed.

We stayed a while just chatting, long after we’d finished eating. We were both red from laughter. and he was smiling brighter than I’d ever seen him.

It became a tradition of sorts. Train and go get food. He’d take me to all his favorite spots, we’d eat, and stay for hours just talking.

One day we were sparring, and I’d somehow ended up under him. He slowly leaned in, and I gave him a little nodd. The kiss lasted far too little time for my liking.

I was smirking at him, “Does someone have a little crush?”

“Shut up, I see how you look at me shirtless.” “Fair. You look very hot shirtless,” I said, “Your heart is beating fast.’ “So is yours.” He leaned in again, and this kiss lasted longer. “You wanna go for dinner?” “As in a date?” I inquired.

“As in dinner, you know. Maybe. People eat dinner.” “We’ve been dating for months now, neither of us cared to admit it,” I joked, walking towards a chair.

“No,” he said, thinking.

I shoot him a “really” look.

“Aright so yes, we have. Do you wanna get dinner?”

“Yes, Ollie, I want to get dinner.”

So from there we basically just dated. Woah revolutionary I know. Training sessions became covers for dates. Sleeping at his became a late night’s work. In the chaos of everything, we found peace in each other.

Oliver’s POV

“Can you run this through facial recognition please, Felicity?” “Yeah,” she said, tapping on her keyboard.

My phone began to ring, and I saw it was Barry.

I shot Felicity a look and headed to the backroom in the lair.

“Hey Be-” “Hello,” a voice said. I recognized it to be Cisco.

“Cisco?” “Yeah? Oliver?” “Why do you have Barry’s phone?” “Barry told me to call this number if he was ever in trouble?” I panicked, “Is, is h-he alright?” “Well, yes, no, he’s sorta-” “I’m coming now.”

“Felicity, I’m going to Central City, work stuff.” “What work exactly?” “Stuff.” “Secret girlfriend stuff?” “W-what?” “Come on, we all see you smiling at your texts, spending way too much time in Central City with'' Barry,” and the way your face lights up when you get a call.” “I-no. I don’t have a secret girlfriend.” Boyfriend, I have a secret boyfriend who happens to not be doing so well.

“Where is he? Where’s Barry?”

“Med bed, right there,” Caitlin said, “Be careful, he’s resting.” “What the hell happened to him?” I said, fuming.

“He got stabbed. Fight.” I ran over to his bed, grabbing his hand.

“Barry,” I said softly.

His eyes fluttered open softly.

“Ollie, ollie. Y-you came.”

“Of course, baby, why would I not be here?”

He just tried to move closer to me.

“Hey, hey, you stay still.”

“Cuddles? Please cuddles.”

I carefully made my way under the covers, and Barry immediately cuddled into me. He quickly fell asleep to the calming motion of my fingers running through his hair.

“When did that happen?” I heard Cisco whisper.

“Couldn’t tell you,” Caitlin said, equally baffed.

I just held on to Barry, hoping he’d get better. Hoping he’d be fine.

A few hours later his eyes fluttered open.

“Ollie?”

“I’m right here, Bear.”

“I think they know,” he said, smiling. “They might have a suspicion.” “All this started from a bit of training.” I kissed his forehead, “God, you idiot, you had me worried there.”

“You can’t get rid of me that quick.” “And I’m so glad.”

His lips met mine, and we kissed for a short moment.

“I think I love you Barry Allen.” He smiled his million dollar smile, “Oliver Queen? Love?”

“Only you.”

“I love you, too Ollie.”

Read/Save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/31733458

#olivarry fic #olivarry #oliver queen #Barry Allen #felicity smoak #The Flash #The Arrow #arrowverse #m/m #fluff #fanfcition #dcu

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midnightsnyx · 4 years

Text

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 6

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: well... here it is lol 2(or 3?) weeks late. sorry for the wait, this chapter was just a bitch to write and every time i thought i was done, i wasn’t happy with it & i didn’t wanna post just for the sake of posting. but i stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish this, so technically it is sunday so im posting on schedule lol

im not sure how many parts are left to this story, maybe two or three + an epilogue but i haven’t decided yet.

also, this gif made me feel things 😂

word count: 2.1k (i wish they were longer too but im doing the best i can😩)

warnings: none other than a couple swear words

Part 6

29 weeks

“What are you doing?”

“Researching how to murder someone and get away with it.” You mutter, typing where to buy a tiger in Google.

Becca gives you a wary look and sits next to you. “Everything okay?”

“No!” You groan in frustration, tossing your phone on the coffee table. “Matthew is driving me insane.”

She frowns. “Is he being an ass?”

“He’s being nice. Too nice.” You grumble, ignoring when Becca chuckles. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the doctor’s appointment even though I told him I forgive him.”

Becca raises an eyebrow at you and you try to ignore her pointed look. “Do you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask defensively.

“You’re different around him now and I’m sure he’s noticed. It’s like you don’t trust him.”

You start to deny her accusation but stop to think about it. Were you more cautious around Matt lately? You certainly didn’t let yourself depend on him for things that you had been before, too afraid that he would let you down. You wanted to, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he’s let you down before and there’s always a chance he will again.

It’s as if Becca can read your mind because she shrugs. “You should be honest with him.”

However, something you’ve learned recently is that too much honestly can get you in trouble.

. . .

Sending Matt a text that said we need to talk, probably wasn’t the best approach because it took him approximately fifteen minutes to show up at your apartment and his is a half hour drive away from yours.

So his windblown hair and wide eyes really weren’t a surprise when you opened your front door.

“So, I think I should have worded that text a little better.”

“You think?” He huffs, walking past you when you step aside. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or jacket off, walking straight to the living room and turning to look at you.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did.” He says and you groan.

“That’s the problem! Stop being sorry for things. It’s driving me nuts.”

He frowns and looks at you in confusion. “So… you don’t want me to be sorry for things?”

“I don’t want you to not be sorry for things, I just want you to stop being sorry for everything. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“I’m just trying to make-”

“Make up for missing the appointment.” you say, finishing his sentence. “I know.” your hand falls to your stomach and you sigh. “We’re going to be parents in less than three months. We need to start trusting each other.”

Matt slowly walks over to you and reaches out for your hand which you let him hold. His thumb rubs across the back of it and he nods.

“You’re right.”

You grin and lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

He smiles, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignore the way it makes your heart race because the last thing you need right now is your feelings for him to get even more confusing when you’re both finally on the same page.

Things are good now and you can’t risk messing it up.

. . .

31 weeks

He’s like a kid in a candy store, you’ve realized as you follow Matt around buy buy BABY. He has two carts, one already stocked full of things and the other slowly being filled. You stopped keeping count of how much everything costed an hour ago because the number started to make you queasy.

“He has enough clothes, Matty.” You whine, taking note of how Matt trips over his feet when you call him by that nickname. “and he’ll grow out of them before he even gets a chance to wear them.”

“Last one, I swear.” He says, holding up an outfit. “C’mon, how fucking cute is he going to look in this?”

“If his first word is a swear word, I’m going to kill you.” You mutter, taking the outfit from him and tossing it in the cart. Matt just grins and rests a hand on your stomach, hoping the baby will kick.

“How’s Joey?”

“Grayson is doing just fine.”

“We’re never going to come to an agreement on a name, are we?” he asks and you smile sweetly.

“Nope.”

He laughs and starts walking towards the checkouts.

“Did my mom tell you that they’re coming to visit?” He asks and you nod, recalling your conversation with Chantal. She’d called you first to make sure you were okay with the entire Tkachuk clan showing up. She knows how stressful pregnancy is and didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But you were ecstatic when she asked if it was okay for them to visit. You’ve grown to depend on her for any pregnancy questions over the past seven months and even when you needed some regular advice for everyday things, you sometimes texted her.

“Yeah, it’s Wednesday, right?”

Matt nods, smiling politely at the cashier as he starts loading every thing on the conveyor belt. You can tell that she’s a hockey fan by the way her eyes light up when she recognizes who he is.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you can pick them up from the airport?” He asks, catching you off guard. “Their plane lands around noon and I won’t be back until later that night and I don’t really want them to have to take a cab.”

You’re a little surprised that he’s asking you to do this instead of paying someone or asking a close friend to do it instead. It’s an odd feeling, realizing that he trusts you with his family.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You tell him and his smile warms you to the bone.

. . .

You show up to the airport forty-five minutes early because you can’t decide if you should wait in the SUV for Matt’s family, or meet them in the airport. Would it be weird to wait for them inside like you would with your own friends or family? You double check your phone to make sure that Matt did tell them it was you picking them up because how weird would it be if they were expecting him only to find you waiting.

You’re definitely over thinking it but you find yourself standing at the gates when their plane lands.

Chantal is the first person you see and her face lights up and she scurries over to you, pulling you in for a soft hug.

“Oh, look at you!” She gushes, taking your hands in hers and holding you at arms length. “You’re glowing.”

Glowing isn’t exactly the word you would use because as much as you tried to look nice to pick them up, you’re still seven months pregnant, sweating because of the jacket you have on and most definitely are wearing odd shoes because you can no longer see your feet and Matt wasn’t here to check for you.

But you blush nonetheless, letting Keith, Taryn, and Brady hug you before starting to walk to baggage claim.

“Thank you for picking us up.” Chantal says and you smile.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Anything I can do to help. I know how hard it is being pregnant with your man travelling a lot.”

You want to correct her when she calls Matt your man, but you don’t want to be impolite so you just nod.

“Speaking of your man,” Brady says in a teasing voice, “what time does he get in, again?”

“Around 8.” You say, ignoring the teasing tone and changing the subject to ask Taryn how school is going. You know you’ll hear more comments about the nature of your relationship with Matt from his brother but for now, you chat with Taryn and Chantal about plans for the baby.

. . .

Matt gave you a key to his apartment when you both realized that you spent more time at his these days then you did at your own so you don’t miss the knowing looks Chantal and Keith share when you use your key to unlock Matt’s apartment. You know they can tell it’s your key and not Matt’s because he painted it your favourite colour when he gave it to you.

“So do we get a sneak peak of the nursery?” Taryn asks hopefully and you nod, gesturing for her to follow you. Matt turned one of the guest rooms in to the nursery in his apartment. You haven’t done anything with yours yet because you and Matt were starting to wonder if after the baby is born, at least for a little while, the two of you should just live together. It would certainly make things much easier.

“It’s beautiful.” Chantal says, and you can see her eyes watering a little.

“We’re going to put up letters spelling his name above the crib.”

“Oh yeah, have you guys decided on a name yet?” Keith asks, testing the sturdiness of the crib by wiggling it a little.

“No.” You mutter. “We can’t agree on anything.”

“You’ll find something you both love eventually.” Chantal reassures you. “Now, please tell me my son has food in his fridge, because I’m going to cook dinner.”

You grin, realizing that she too knows how bad Matt is at keeping his fridge stocked. Before you started spending so much time here, you would be lucky if he had eggs in the fridge.

. . .

Matt arrives home just as dinner is cooked and you get to witness what a typical Tkachuk night must look like. There’s lots of chirps thrown but you can tell how close this family is and how much they care about each other. Especially when it comes to Matt and his mom and sister. He treats them like gold and it warms your heart to see it.

After dinner, you volunteer to clean up and you’re surprised when Keith offers to help. You’ve only spoken to him a few times before today and you don’t feel as close to him as you do with Chantal so it’s quiet while the two of you clear up the dishes.

Keith breaks the silence after a couple minutes, turning to look at you.

“I know Matthew can be a handful… but don’t give up on him, okay?”

You’re surprised to hear this coming from Keith because you were truthfully expecting Taryn or Brady to say something about it. Every time you and Matthew touched or spoke to each other, you noticed the knowing looks and soft smiles from the other Tkachuk family members.

It was like they knew something that neither you nor Matthew did.

You’re not sure what exactly to say so you just nod.

“I won’t.” You promise, realizing that you truly mean it.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton #allies writing

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

Text

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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

Taglist!

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

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puttingfingerstokeys · 3 years

Text

a friend in need [reworked]

so here’s the OG if ye cared: The OG(tm)

I’ve added characters and koncepts. Shinnok IS in the amulet, Quan-Chi is around probably, uhh... some shit happened offscreen a la annihilation that I’m sure I can enumerate on later or whatever. Uh

Faraday Cage

Energy crackled and radiated outward, sparking off pavement, trees, vehicles, people—anything with which it came in contact. Fires had erupted all over and people were fighting them as best they could, but with little hope of relief. Destruction radiated outward in all directions from one point. At the center of that point was an angry god, grieved at great loss, enraged beyond his own ability to control.

Earthrealm could not be protected by a weak, fatherly deity; Raiden understood that now, and it scared him. His own weakness scared him. His foolishness scared him. The “justice” of the Elder Gods scared him. He would end this fight and all fights, because they, for some reason, had chosen the path of passive observation. He had to do this; there was no other way. Why did no one understand? He was singular in his purpose and not even the chosen of Earthrealm, Liu Kang, could stand in his way.

Raiden had taken his own advice, a frightful echo from a future as yet unknown, an Armageddon which killed them all, himself included. It had taken many trials and many more errors to realize his own, true meaning.

“He must win.”

Raiden had finally reached the conclusion that the “he” in question was not Liu Kang, Earthrealm’s chosen, but Shao Kahn, the bloodthirsty outworld dictator. Reality shivered under the threat of the merging, however, and still the Elder Gods did not step in. How far would this have to go? Did they know that Shao Kahn’s army was, even now, trampling the tenuous pact between the realms? Did they know it had been making rubble piles of Earthrealm cities for almost a decade? Did they care?

“Liu, over here!” It was Johnny Cage, long having grown from the self-absorbed jerk Liu Kang had once known. In fact, he was a father, and proud of his little girl, but right now, damn near shitting in his britches to see Raiden this way. He offered an arm and pulled Liu Kang to his feet. He and a few others were taking shelter behind a small building which shook with the march of outworld foot soldiers and presently began to flicker with a terrible energy.

Raiden had warned himself, somehow, that the merging of realms must begin, that this was the meaning of victory in his own prophetic words, for the Elder Gods to step in. Shao Kahn had begun his dark work, however, and still nothing moved, nothing in favor of the forces of light and justice, anyway. It seemed the Elder Gods had a different idea of what it meant to maintain balance.

Certainly, there had been debate at first. There was no guarantee the Elder Gods would step in to honor the ancient pact between the protector of Earthrealm and Outworld’s greedy dictator, Shao Kahn. The deal had been struck before the eyes of those gods, however, and between divinity and divine blood; it was unbreakable. What no one had anticipated was that Shao Kahn could, technically speaking, send his forces through into Earthrealm without entering himself, or even starting the merge.

The terms of his further challenge, after having lost to the warriors of Earthrealm had been untenable, however, and so, with little debate, all kombatants under the god of thunder agreed to fight for the safety and security of their realm as a veritable army, rather than allowing their fate to once more hinge on a single battle. It had not stopped Shao Khan from taking Lao from behind and nearly snapping his neck when the behatted monk was the only one he could reach. This should have killed him, but for Raiden’s quick, skilled intervention. Even then, he realized he had been afraid that the Elder Gods would see this as blatant interference, though he had never once regretted it.

The invasion was small, at first, relatively speaking, and confined to Shang Tsung’s island, the weakest place in the fabric of reality, a sort of nexus point which connected most other realms. The Earthrealm fighters were able to contain it there, using it as a funnel, but only for so long. After that, the secret invasion began. Fortunately, the marching armies of open conquest had only made themselves apparent in the last few years or so. As the fabric of reality between realms had become thin, more thin spots had appeared, making crossing realms much, much easier.

“Your tournament is canceled, puny god! I have rescinded my generous invitation!” Shao Kahn called, raising his great hammer to the sky as Outworld began finally to merge with Earthrealm, tearing down buildings and reconstructing them in hideous amalgams. People fled and were trampled; people stood and were gored. He would line the streets with bodies before the day was out and only Raiden stood before him. Raiden, who had fought his own, dear Liu Kang, who had defied him nearly to death.

Had he died? Was Liu Kang dead? Raiden could not see him. He could not see anything past the haze of fury clouding his vision and judgment. I have killed him, again, as it was said I always will, as I always must. The thought was errant, not his own, and he brushed it aside, focusing on Shao Kahn and the present. It was his only choice.

For Raiden, at that moment, there was only himself, the protector of Earthrealm, and Shao Kahn, the invader. The world around him had narrowed to a tunnel which saw only the vicious Kahn. His soldiers had massed around him, many of them clearly conscripts from Netherrealm. Quan-Chi had long been on the side of Shao Kahn. It had been his magic which resurrected Sindel, giving her Shang Tsung’s many souls and turning her into a maddened force of nature. She was gone now, but while she lived, she stole many an Earthrealm warrior from him and Raiden could see some of these, lined up near Shao Kahn, not least of all the revenant kryomancer, Sub-Zero.

Meanwhile, Earthrealm’s remaining defenders did their best to regroup. Their numbers had dwindled in recent years. They were hanging on by the skin of their teeth, but only just. Everyone was exhausted and no one could remember when last they slept a whole night in a real bed.

“He… Johnny—you should have seen his eyes,” Liu Kang gasped, slumping to his rear-end near the wall. Jacqui Briggs stooped to examine him, checking for external injuries, and wishing for a better facility in which to check for internal. She was no expert, but godly lightning probably left a nasty mark.

“I see ‘em from here, Liu, and it’s… this is fucked,” grunted the Hollywood star, handing the binoculars over to his daughter, Cassie. She shook her head.

“He said we had to let Shao Kahn win, or else the Elder Gods would never step in,” gasped Liu Kang between labored breaths. Something was definitely wrong and if it was not treated soon, it could become permanent. “They… aren’t stepping in—I knew they didn’t care about us. I…” He groaned in agony and Jacqui pushed him back down.

“Hold still, Chosen One, your guts’ve been rearranged by a pissed off god—maybe take it easy.”

“If I ‘take it easy’, we all die,” Liu Kang snapped, jaw tight. Jacqui gave him a look that suggested she would take no lip, no matter how damn chosen he was or who chose him, for that matter. She could see from the way he held himself, the way his muscles tensed and tightened, that he was going to get much worse before he got better, especially if he pushed. They might not have a choice, soon enough, but while they did, there was no point risking it.

He met her gaze—it was burning with rage and sadness—with his own. They were matched in this way, both earthrealm natives with everything and more to lose, both people who had fought, tooth and nail, against this very thing. Sitting by idly and wishing things were otherwise was not something to which either Liu Kang or Jacqui Briggs were accustomed.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Kung Lao approached, supporting a figure between himself and Hanzo Hasashi, the Shirai-Ryu Grandmaster. Behind them trailed Takeda Takahashi, Scorpion’s pseudo son and likely successor, half-carrying Lao’s cousin, Jin. The figure between Scorpion and Kung Lao was dressed all in blue, with cracked, gray flesh. He seemed to exude chill and once they had placed him, only Grandmaster Hasashi seemed inclined, or able, to stay near him.

“Is this all that is left?” Lao’s voice was not incredulous, so much as despairing. He moved immediately toward Jacqui and Liu Kang, dropping to one knee. “Where is Princess Kitana and her force?”

Liu Kang shook his head. He explained that the last he had seen her, she was leading an auxiliary force of Shokan loyal to her and her claim to the throne, plus a few Osh-Tekk warriors, a gift from the rebellious general Ko’atal. The big man himself had been nowhere to be seen, but he was resourceful. Jade, too, had been missing, but Liu Kang assumed that if they were together, they were safe. She was much more than Kitana’s handmaiden. Their party had been split by the arrival of the irate god of thunder and Shao Kahn’s largest, most potent portal yet.

“Dad!” The three looked up suddenly at Cassie’s shout, pulled from their informal debrief. She was reaching out to an empty space where Johnny had just been standing. Before she could go after him, however, Jacqui was at her back, grasping her elbow, hard.

“No,” Jacqui hissed, “you’ll be fried—we don’t know if Raiden’s friendly anymore… if he ever was.” Cassie jerked her elbow away, but Jacqui held tight and shook her head. “I mean it, Cass. Your dad’s… gunna do what he’s gunna do, just like mine.”

With effort, she pulled Cassie back and away from the violent arcs of red lightning that were even now consuming trees and landscaping, cars, enemy soldiers, anything within the dome of the thunder god’s power—an area that was growing. Cassie hated that explanation, but not because it was foolish. Jacqui was spot on, in every way. Johnny Cage was a force of nature himself and always had been. Cassie wasn’t sure, however, that he would be enough to combat an elemental who had, in her mind, clearly gone out of his wits.

Raiden and Shao Kahn met somewhere in the middle, just beyond the portal the Outworld emperor had opened to begin the final invasion and merging of Earthrealm to his blasted home. Still, the Elder gods did not stir.

Shao Kahn’s hammer swung mightily and met a fist that moved with swift violence. A thunderclap resounded, flattening the area and then cratering it. Neither hand nor head of hammer shattered, but that was of no consequence to Shao Kahn, who reached out and hauled Raiden forward by his collar.

The thunder god looked into the emperor’s animal eyes and neither hated nor pitied him. Raiden’s rage was beyond petty ire toward the man who had caused his beloved Earthrealm so much grief over the centuries. He would simply destroy Shao Kahn. It had become singularly simple in his eyes. He had been a fool. He would end this once and for all, for everyone, forever.

Perhaps it was the look, the nearly directionless fury which met his eyes that made Shao Kahn drop Raiden. Johnny Cage, who had worked himself much closer than was probably safe, watched from still a ways off and could not quite pinpoint what it was that had Shao Kahn backing away from the thunder god.

“It is forbidden for you to fight,” Shao Kahn warned, with more authority and sureness in his voice than it seemed he felt. “You cannot engage in Mortal Kombat! You are not mortal!” Even his minions began to back away as Raiden’s arced, red lightning crashed violently into them, disintegrating here, vaporizing there, starting fires all over. Raiden’s chest heaved with the effort of either sustaining the onslaught, or holding it back, Johnny wasn’t sure.

On that heaving chest, Shinnok’s awful amulet pulsed with life and light, beckoning and promising strength. Raiden reached for it, but hesitated, seemingly doubting himself for the merest fraction of a second. It was in that span of time whence Shao Kahn regained his courage, approached, and swung again. This time, he would have caught the god of thunder on the chin, had it not been for the quick footwork of Johnny Cage.

This time, boots met hammer, though the clash was not so even. The force of the impact sent Johnny into the side of a building. His back hit concrete and he was certain he felt something snap, but if he gave up now, Raiden was absolutely going to do something stupid. Johnny didn’t understand Shinnok’s power, or even who and what Shinnok really was, or had been, as the case may be, but he knew an evil piece of jewelry when he saw it. Perhaps ironically, his experience in the film industry had clued him into its potency and danger, if the sickly green glow was not enough.

“Time for a scene change,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and spitting blood. The tang of adrenaline was on his tongue and coursing through his veins, making him hyper focus upon this detail or that, the world around him moving in slow motion. Johnny fancied he could hear Cassie screaming somewhere in the distance, but right now, his attention was on the battle before him.

“You are too weak to use that amulet on me, or anyone, thunder god,” Shao Kahn mocked, manufacturing enough bravado to satisfy his immense ego. Raiden grimaced, as if considering whether or not the man was right. He ground his teeth and once more moved to grasp Shinnok’s amulet. Shao Kahn struck again, this time with a boot.

Raiden was forced to block this with a cross before his chest and to step back. He balled one fist and surrounded it with lightning, shaking his head. “You do not know my power,” he growled, “but rest assured, Shao Kahn, you will.” Raiden discharged the lightning at Shao Kahn, who used his hammer as a ground and laughed.

“Pathetic, and weak.” Each descriptor was punctuated with a sharp wag of his finger toward Raiden’s chest and the deadly amulet which sat throbbing with energy thereupon.

“I am not weak—I am doing as I have always done. I am protecting Earthrealm.” His hand once more rose to the amulet. “Whatever that takes, I will do it.”

With his free hand, Raiden wound up a massive store of radiant, red energy and hurled it at Shao Kahn. The tyrant was thrown back mightily, taking out a score of his foot soldiers as he flew. Raiden continued forward, his pace slow, but deliberate. The troops of outworld were suddenly cowed by this display, as if their fellows being randomly vaporized had not been enough. Something had shifted, they sensed, and they began to back away.

“You are forbidden, Raiden!” This time, Shao Kahn’s voice was laced with fear; the confidence he had earlier displayed with his first remark of this kind had evidently deserted him in the face of what Raiden had become. The deity’s hand was now resting almost lovingly, protectively covering his father’s amulet. It was as if a very small part of him still fought for his own innocence, whatever might have been left of it.

Yes, a voice whispered, emanating from the amulet, but resounding in Raiden’s fevered mind, yes, grasp the power you have earned. With it, no one will threaten you again. Earthrealm will be safe, forever. The voice which came from the cursed object was familiar and comforting. His thoughts clung to it, to the truth of it. He had earned this power. Eons of bending to the will of the Elder Gods with no reward signaled the need for it, the deserving of its power. He only ever moved to protect Earthrealm.

Meanwhile, Johnny had begun to close the distance between himself and the wrathful deity. He could feel his hair standing on end with the force of the red lightning radiating outward from Raiden’s body. He was tense; the actor could see that from where he was, and… Are those tears? He shook off the thought as a stray bolt vaporized a fire hydrant less than a yard from him; it burst into a geyser of city water which soon began raining down upon everyone in the vicinity.

Johnny ducked behind a bike rack, realized that was probably a poor choice of cover, and scuttled along on the ground until he found a trash bin that looked as if it was made of plastic composite, rather than anything that might conduct those wicked red arcs of enraged power. His heart was hammering a thousand miles per hour and for a moment, he wondered if that was the first sign of an electricity-induced heart attack. Maybe he had been struck and did not realize it.Thinking about the ramifications of that hurt his head, so he stopped and decided to do what he did best.

“Now or never,” he told himself, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be vaporized like the fire hydrant. It would be guts, however, not water spraying about, if he was lucky. Speaking of the water... too much of it, and Johnny would be zapped for sure; he was already soaked to the bone. Oh like it’s any different than what I’m about to do, he hissed internally, covering his face to keep his sunglasses dry. He needed to be able to see for this one. Johnny simply told himself that god lightning was different than the regular stuff and, in a burst of foolish energy, tossed himself around the trash bin and ran, full tilt, toward Raiden’s position.

A wayward bolt struck his glasses, tossing them from his face and exploding stars before his eyes. Johnny stumbled and, somewhere in the distance—she sounded thousands of miles away—he thought he could hear Cassie’s voice calling his name, screaming it in raw, brutal, throat-rending panic. He prayed someone was holding her back, because if this went south, as he was almost sure it would, she would be about to fight a hurricane, armed with only a pair of pistols.

Raiden was not going to be stopped, but Johnny felt that it was his duty to try. Liu’s shouldered too fuckin’ much already—my turn, he reasoned, forcing himself to keep going, running harder and faster than he had ever done in his life.

Raiden had stopped his inexorable stride and Shao Kahn looked on in bewilderment as the earthrealm action star closed the gap, running directly into that deadly lightning. Shao Kahn had been so sure Johnny’s miserable back had broken against that building. There was something to be said for the tenacity of a cornered, wounded animal. The Outworld dictator considered the benefits of having stock like that in the breeding pits. If Johnny Cage lived through this, his life in Outworld would be relatively comfortable, Shao Kahn decided.

The god turned his head, acknowledging Johnny with eyes as red as his lightning. Sure as shit, Johnny thought, noting that Raiden was, indeed, in tears, though they did not seem to be saline, as a human’s might be—they stood out, even upon his pale flesh, catching light and reflecting it like diamonds—or perhaps rubies, stained by the power of his rage. When they fell, they seemed to solidify midair. He supposed the sound they would make might be the minute clattering of diamonds or solidified quicksilver, though of course he could hear nothing through the rush of blood in his ears and the ambient roar of battle nearly-joined.

“Stop it, man!” Johnny called, reaching a hand out. Raiden still did not move, but neither did he cease his bombardment. Shao Kahn’s forces were at a standstill, watching, for once uncertain of the correct path. Some were even edging toward the portal, back to Outworld and relative safety. “Raiden—you listening to me? You don’t hafta—”

A bolt struck him square in the chest and he dropped to his knees, eyes wide, staring with pain and fear at the man—the god—who had struck him down. Raiden seemed to shift a little at that and then to turn. Johnny had caught his attention and would have held it but for Shao Kahn’s voice. “An earthrealm fraud has halted your march, Lord Raiden—what sort of god are you?!” He urged his forces forward, but no one stirred. Shao Kahn looked around and once more met Raiden’s eyes, which were again trained upon him. The grip on Shinnok’s amulet tightened and finally, it seemed Raiden would use it.

“No more.”

Cassie continued to scream. Johnny could hear her now. He was coming to, realizing that he was not, in fact, dead, nor even too terribly scorched. At the last moment, evidently, the magic of his strange heritage had leapt up to protect him, but he could feel in his bones that this would not happen again. He had one chance. For Cassie, he thought, all those kids—for Liu and Lao and Sonya, for Jax, even Scorpion and Sub-Zero, and Earthrealm. His heart thudded and he started forward, first at a trot, the once more at a leaping gallop. For Raiden.

Before the god could respond, Johnny Cage had tossed his arms around that broad, pillar-like torso. He had never realized just how big Raiden actually was, and thought perhaps he had allowed himself to retain a human size when dealing directly with them. He had to have been at least seven feet tall and change, but Johnny held tight all the same. He could feel a surge of anger and fathomless grief within his own body, as if it belonged to him, originated IN him—and it scared him. All this time, they had though Raiden was losing his mind to the desire for power, something much more understandable to a human mind. Johnny had never held tightly to the belief, having gotten to know Raiden over the years, but others, his late ex-wife included, had been downright certain.

“Christ,” he grunted, “is this what you’re feeling?”

It was then that the Outworld dictator chose to rush them. With him leading the charge, his hordes felt renewed confidence and vigor and lunged forth as one, howling their triumph over Earthrealm. Raiden was frozen in place, but only for a moment. He seemed suddenly to come back to himself, as if he had been far away, no longer in control of his limbs or actions—certainly not of his lightning.

He wrapped one powerful arm around Johnny, who still held him, and with the other, lashed a wide, sweeping arc of blue-white lightning across the crowd, releasing his hold on the wicked amulet to do so. Shao Kahn’s hammer protected him, but his troops were not so lucky. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh left hanging in the air when Shao Kahn opened his eyes and straightened.

“Send your champion to face me, then!” Shao Kahn shouted, beating his chest, his hubris seemingly undiminished. His tone, however, was just this side of desperate, and his stance was far too eager, too frantic, to regain and retain control over this place. Johnny looked to Raiden, then back to Shao Kahn. He knew what this meant. He’d been at this long enough. The challenge had been issued years ago and Raiden had, with the blessing of Earthrealm’s defenders, refused it. Now, it would be taken up.

“So you’re declaring Mortal Kombat?” Johnny was going to be absolutely clear on this one, since… god contracts and all that—or something. He wasn’t wholly certain on this point, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Shao Kahn seemed actually to consider this. His troops were slaughtered or retreating, Raiden was placated for the time being, but who knew how long that could last? His konquest had begun unlawfully, but for the loophole of his not quite finishing the merging of realms. That would be his next step—because if there existed no Earthrealm champions to defend her, then who would stop him?

“Yes, Earthrealm clown,” Shao Kahn rumbled, slapping the handle of his great hammer on one rough palm.

“Mime, actually,” came another voice from across a few lanes of what would have been traffic. Emerging from the alley where they were taking shelter, Liu Kang led their friends, injured and whole, into the open. He was supported by a grimacing Jacqui Briggs and a relieved but concerned Kung Lao, but it was clear from Liu’s expression that “no you have ruptured organs” was not an answer he would be hearing today. Raiden’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; he had not killed Liu Kang after all.

“Thank you, Liu—wait hang on…” Johnny narrowed his eyes at his friend. The Shaolin fighter did not respond and seemed, for a moment, not to be able to meet Johnny’s eyes. In fact, if Johnny wasn’t tripping completely, he could have sworn that the guy was blushing. Still got it, he thought, grinning.

Before he could continue, however, Cassie broke into a gait he very much recognized as one that signaled extreme displeasure. Her face held a look of grim determination as she stomped toward her father. Johnny knew he was in for it and backed away, hands up.

“Whoa, whoa, pumpkin, easy, huh?” He looked between Shao Kahn and his daughter and realized he would rather face the Outworld tyrant. “C’mon—easy, what was your old man s’posed to do?”

“Not get fried by a pissed off god and leave me a fucking ORPHAN? MAYBE?” Her voice held an edge of hysterical panic he did not like. “Oh. Shit…” she stammered, stopping just as her path crossed Raiden’s. “I’m—sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” said the god, inclining his head toward her, “but you are not incorrect.”

Cassie was sheepish and mumbled another apology. Raiden seemed to understand her position, however, and addressed it no more. Instead, he turned his attention upon the waiting tyrant.

“When will this foolishness subside so that I can begin the konquest of your filthy realm, Raiden?!” Shao Kahn was growing impatient. “The Earthrealmer has declared Mortal Kombat and I accept, on the terms that, when I win, the merge will begin and you, pitiful servant of the Elder Gods, will stand aside and bow to their will as you have always done!”

Johnny’s jaw tightened at this hateful commentary upon Raiden’s character, but for once in his life, he held his tongue. Now was not the time to bandy words with dictators and monsters; now was the time to make them eat those words with a garnish of ball-crushing whoop-ass.

“It is my destiny to fight Shao Kahn,” Liu Kang hissed, eyeing Johnny, his gaze flinty. The hardness in his voice and tone belied the real fear that they were thwarting destiny and tempting a fate no one was equipped to handle. His eyes snapped to Raiden, then, pleading. Raiden shook his head. Jacqui echoed the movement. Even now, protesting this, Liu leaned heavily upon both people holding him up, in no condition to fight.

“Guess it’s not, Liu—stand back and watch.” Johnny would hear no more, turning toward his opponent and shouting. “I accept your terms, Shao Kahn—winner take all.” I mean, I’m not gunna take over Outworld, but like… it sounds pretty good when I say it out loud, his fevered brain nattered.

He must win. Raiden’s own, incomprehensible words came back to him in a sickening echo he still wondered, even now, to whom his future self had been referring. He had been so sure it was Shao Kahn, but that sureness had nearly killed his chosen champion. He met Liu Kang’s furious gaze.

“By the rules of Mortal Kombat, the challenge must be taken up by the one who declared it. I am sorry, Liu Kang, but this fight indeed belongs to Johnny Cage.”

Johnny heard his name, but no more. He was focused, utterly and completely, upon Shao Kahn, who stood a few yards hence, leaning upon the head of his hammer and observing the company with such arrogance, it turned Johnny’s guts. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head upon broad shoulders.

“Okay big guy, you heard the god. Let’s fuckin’ go.” He dropped into a deep stance and beckoned Shao Kahn. The tyrant chuckled, the sound a raspy, hollow thing, mirthless and full of contempt and triumph for a victory he had not yet won. Kung Lao winced at the sound and whispered to his companion,

“This is insane…”

Johnny made the first move, using his distance to gain speed and launch into a combination of forceful, heavy kicks which utilized his size and the length of his legs. Shao Kahn blocked these with little effort and jabbed in return, hoping to push Johnny off balance.

The years had made him wily and this was not the Johnny Cage that Shao Kahn remembered, so cocksure and arrogant, his insecurities showing upon his countenance like a glowing sign, pushed by his own self doubt to showboat and make light of his own skill. This Johnny was an old veteran of many ugly fights; he was vicious, clever, and quick. The fate of his world hung in the balance. He would pull no punches and playing fair wasn’t necessarily a given, either.

Using the tyrant’s momentum against him, Johnny ducked around him and launched into a hard kick to the back of Shao Kahn’s head. This, the tyrant bore with an enraged snarl, a stumble, and a wide, arcing swing of the hammer. That swing, too, Johnny dodged, spitting in his opponent’s direction. “Gunna hafta do better’n that, slugger!”

“So your arrogance has not been tempered,” Shao Kahn commented. “Good, good. That will make your defeat all the more satisfying.” He laughed viciously and swung the hammer down, shaking the ground around them. Johnny found himself out of sorts for a moment, but it was long enough for Shao Kahn to catch him up in one hand, tossing the hammer aside and plying both powerful limbs to their grim task. He lifted Johnny over his head and began to bend. “Do you see your champion, Thunder God?”

Raiden, formerly watching with a mask of impassive disinterest, was suddenly assaulted by visions of Johnny Cage, broken nearly in two, over the shoulders of this selfsame tyrant. He could hear Shao Kahn’s triumphant laugh, the horrified scream of Sonya Blade, the heartbroken, barely-audible moan of Liu Kang. As he blinked, the entire scene flashed behind his eyes and, without thinking, he stretched forth one hand and fired a bolt of pure, blue-white lightning.

With a single shot, Raiden, god of thunder and protector of Earthrealm, ended it all.

Shao Kahn was vapor, dust in the light breeze that had begun to pick up. Johnny hauled himself to his feet, heart hammering once more, and looked between the two. Shao Kahn had been mere moments from snapping him in half, powerful hands crushing him wherever they reached, his back beginning to feel the strain of the Outworld dictator’s prodigious strength when, all at once, it was over and he was on the ground.

Coughing, brushing off, and reorienting himself, Johnny’s only thought was for the thunder god and he rushed back to where Raiden stood, staring, shocked (there was a pun here someplace), at his own hand, as if he had never before seen it. The amulet, curiously, remained upon his chest, unused, bearing no mark of having been harnessed.

“I…” Raiden stammered as Johnny reached him. The others watched the pair, who had sunk to the ground together, Johnny’s rough hands finding either side of Raiden’s face. They were murmuring—mostly Johnny, in point of fact—and no one was sure if they should get close.

Liu Kang directed them away and gestured that they ought to start dealing with the portal, which was still open and continuing its inexorable work. He hoped, silently, that the Elder Gods actually did decide to step in, because he was no sorcerer, nor was he a god and could not see himself becoming either in the near future.

Across the expanse of what had become the field of kombat, Kung Lao and Jacqui spotted Kitana, Jade, and a limping Ko’atal. They were followed by a few singed Shokan and some Osh-Tekk, bruised and battered, but alive. Kitana raised a hand and Jacqui returned the salute, made a brief gesture to the murmuring pair, and then to Liu Kang, still suspended between herself and Kung Lao.

“Hey,” Johnny hissed, “it’s okay—it’s gunna be fine… You finished it. It’s—”

“It is not over, Johnny Cage,” responded the god, eyes downcast. “I have upset the balance; the Elder Gods will be furious. The consequences—”

“Seriously,” Johnny interrupted, “fuck the Elder Gods—what’ve they done for us, huh?” Raiden’s eyes opened wide at these words of blasphemy and he reached out to grasp the lapels of Johnny’s vest.

“You know not of what you speak, Johnny Cage,” warned Raiden. Johnny hated that fearful look on Raiden’s face. It was foreign and wrong and did not belong there under any circumstances. Johnny scowled deeply.

“I know a thing or three about shit parents… Listen, this whole… fatherhood thing, y’know, it blows sometimes—no offense Cass; I love ya pumpkin—and it’s… like a never-ending cavalcade of horseshit, nonsense, and doubt.” He shook his head. “I had ONE. I can’t imagine being the… like, dad of a whole-ass world…realm… thing.” Pursing his lips, Johnny searched for his next words, choosing them carefully. “We spend our whole damn lives worrying and wondering if we did all we could—if we fucked up somewhere along the way and if that… y’know, if it caused more pain than it should’ve, or… more than we knew at the time, or could ever know.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s gunna do that—it will do that. You’re going to hurt your kids and sometimes meaning well isn’t the be-all, end-all… the ends don’t always justify the means and all that shit, except when they do… But the bottom line here is that a good parent does THAT, y’know, looks back and… worries… about the process. Getting there ain’t always half the fun, big guy—and frankly, whoever-the-fuck got you here, where you are right now? They’re not the good kinda parents. Just sayin’.”

Raiden looked as if he had never been told that the Elder Gods were poor parental figures. He looked as if he had never considered them parents at all, which Johnny supposed made sense, since they weren’t exactly physical beings or whatever, but sometimes, one had to wonder at the “my ways are higher than your ways” explanation.

He, still holding either side of Raiden’s face, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “We’re gunna be all right, man—I promise. I… we… no one’s gunna let anything happen to you—or Earthrealm, or whatever.” He had clearly run out of words, for the time being

“Thank you, Johnny Cage,” whispered Raiden solemnly. “Your faith and fair words mean more to me than you can know.”

“Ah, one more thing, though.” Evidently, Johnny was not completely out of words. “Just… Just Johnny, please? Whenever I hear the whole thing, I kinda assume I’m in deep shit—y’really don’t wanna go there with a god… ‘specially not the kind who can do… y’know, what you just did.”

Raiden regarded what he had just done very carefully, then regarded Johnny. This, he supposed, was a request he could grant, but it felt strange, not addressing him that way.

“If I am correct, then we are, all of us, in ‘deep shit’.”

“Lord Raiden,” Liu Kang called, hobbling toward them having escaped, temporarily, his captors. “Forgive me, but that portal isn’t closing itself and I…”

Raiden shook his head and stood, grasping Johnny’s hands and pulling the man with him. “I will make this right,” he promised, stepping away from the mortals and lifting into the air. Once more, energy crackled all around, but it bore the tranquil, blue-white glow that they were accustomed to seeing. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Cassie approached her father slowly. He seemed dazed. She could have slapped him, but she wasn’t sure that wouldn't trigger some kind of heart attack. Johnny’s eyes were wide, fixed on the hovering thunder deity.

“You ah… okay, dad?”

“I don’t… I dunno, kid. I’m not sure. But he is… and right now, that’s kinda what we need.”

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #raiden #faraday cage #there are tons of other characters #so I'mma just leave it at that #kung lao and a few others make brief appearances

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lunarsaga · 3 years

Text

EPISODE 2: Angel Among Demons

HOLY SHIT THIS BITCH IS LONG, HAVE FUN Y'ALL~ a very quick note, I wanted to work in more of Luna being bilingual, so when you see [text in brackets like this] that means that she's speaking in english. (This will only happen in her perspective—no one save Kagome will know what she's saying.)

ENJOY!!!

================================

“Luna, please tell me again why you have to go off on your own.” Kagome set her hands on her hips.

Luna sighed as she slung her shotgun holster over her shoulder and held up her sheathed short sword. “Technically I don’t have to. But if you all are stopping to rest, go ahead and rest. I’m just needing some practice with my sword—it’s been a while since I’ve even held a katana.”

“Shouldn’t you save your energy as well?” Miroku asked her. “We have quite a journey ahead of us, it seems.”

Luna shook her head. “I’m too restless to sit around right now. Besides, if we’re headed toward a fight, you’re gonna want me at the top of my game.”

“Just stay close, okay?” Kagome pleaded. “I can sense a demonic aura somewhere in the area.”

Luna tucked her sword into a belt loop on her jeans, offering her sister a little finger gun. “That is what the shotgun’s for, little sis. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

As it turns out, she wasn’t… wrong. But that didn’t mean her little solo workout wouldn’t be entirely uneventful.

She walked a little ways away from where the group was, taking a second to appreciate the surrounding nature. Even back where her dad’s place was—in upstate New York—the forests weren’t quite like this. Not only was the scenery beautiful, but the air was about ten times clearer than she was used to. Truly beautiful.

She found a nice little spot among the trees: a little clearing, mostly clear of rocks or anything she could trip or fall on, and no grass or mud to slip on while she was moving around, just dry dirt. There was a little sapling, just big enough to be a practice dummy while she worked on her form. She dropped her gun out of the way, and shucked off the flannel shirt she was wearing. With that tied around her waist, she was left in just a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

“Alright girl,” She said, repeating words that had been said to her so many times over the years: “Let’s get to work.”

She wasn’t afraid to admit that she’d gotten rusty. In her era, she only really ever needed her modern weapons; the only reason she even had a Katana was because the rare occasion called for it. Well, this was certainly a situation that called for it.

“Sorry, tree,” she chuckled to herself, “but you’re young, you’ll heal. Life, uh...” She drew her sword, twirling it in a figure eight around her body. “...finds a way.”

It was easy for her to get lost in her training. This often happened when she did repetitive drills or workouts: the movements came rather naturally, so she could zone out and lose herself in it. It might’ve been an hour, could’ve been more than two; she wasn’t sure.

“Fighting with a katana isn’t like what you see in the movies.” That was the first thing her father had taught her when he’d given her this sword—almost ten years prior. “It’s all about moving your feet.”

She sliced an arc through the air, envisioning her sapling opponent swinging a sword as well.

“Strike fast, and dodge faster.”

As the imaginary blade “swung” her way, she ducked the blow, feet sliding across the dirt. She paused for a second, hand extended in front of her and sword raised above her head, parallel to the ground. She smirked, steadying her breathing. She remembered being thirteen and how it felt to actually wield this sword for the first time...

“You and your sister are special,” her father had told her, “you can learn to see with your other senses.”

As a young teen, she’d laughed at that. “Like using the Force? Like a Jedi?”

“Just like that.”

The Jedi thing seemed like a joke at the time. But as she grew older, she learned it was more serious than she could have ever guessed.

“Everything gives off an energy called an Aura. The more powerful something is, the easier it is to sense.”

Before she could swing again, she froze. Speaking of auras, she was picking up on a rather strong one—and it was headed in her direction. She heard no sound—other than the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional call of an animal in the distance—but this strong sense of foreboding was unmistakable. Her ears were burning, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as a chill ran down her spine.

A demon, no doubt. And a powerful one at that.

“It’s not enough to sense its presence. Focus. Close your eyes. Where is it coming from?”

Right… over… There!

Without even looking, she whirled and flung her sword directly at the source of the demonic aura. The blade struck something—she heard the thunk—but she didn’t wait to look. She immediately dove for her shotgun, tossed the holster, and caught herself in a roll. She was solidly crouched on her knees and the balls of her feet, with the gun cocked before she looked up at the demon she’d chucked her blade at.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?” She snorted. Then, she actually took in the sight of him.

First of all, her blade hadn’t even come close to hitting him. It was currently embedded in a tree trunk—just barely, it looked like it could fall at any second— about six or seven feet from where the actual demon was standing.

The first thing she noticed about him was the sheer amount of white on his person. Pristine white linen kimono, hakama of the same fabric cinched around his ankles, an enormous (and fluffy-looking) pelt of fur over his shoulder, and silvery-white hair cascading down his back. On top of all that, he wore armor that Luna supposed was meant to be intimidating— but to her, it just looked ridiculous.

And his face. He was positively gorgeous, which was incredibly confusing given that the feeling of dread she was getting from his aura hadn’t gone away. His eyes were a striking shade of gold—but cold as a polar ice cap. He had markings on his face—two magenta on each cheek, and an indigo crescent moon on his forehead.

“You’re in my way,” he said. Even his voice was cold, albeit resonant. “Move.”

For a second, Luna forgot she had a voice. Silent as her lips were, her mind was racing, trying to do the math: What the actual fuck— why is he so pretty? He’s a demon! Demons ain’t usually this damn pretty! Who the fuck gave him permission to look like that— it’s a Tuesday for fuck’s sake!

Almost a solid thirty seconds had gone by, and Luna realized she still hadn’t said anything. Oh, fuck, okay, stop just fuckin’ staring at him and say something, you idiot— so, of course, the most intelligent thing that she could say at that moment was: “...huh?”

Those frigid, golden eyes sparked just the tiniest bit of annoyance. “I said move.”

Her grip on her gun loosened just the tiniest bit, and she straightened up just a little. After a small glance around the enormous forest surrounding them, she made an amused face at him. “What? Dude, there’s a whole forest, just go around me.”

She uncocked her shotgun, stretching her legs to stand up.

“You have quite the audacious nerve for a human.” And he sounded none too happy about that. “Get out of my way.”

Luna sighed, “And you seem to like repeating yourself. I’m doin’ something here, so unless you feel like getting your demonic energy purified today, I’d suggest you take abouuut...” she pursed her lips, pretending to judge the distance with her pointer finger. “Five? Six steps to the right? It won’t be that hard on you, I promise. No one will think less of you.”

Now she was just being facetious, which was more than likely going to cause problems for her in the future—knowing how demons tended to be—but she had absolute faith in her weapon and her own skill. With an aura as strong as his, it wasn’t likely that her sacred salt rounds would do more than wound him, but sometimes that was at least enough to scare off some spirits.

When he didn’t respond, she figured he was just going to swallow his pride and take her advice. She was about to set her shotgun down and go back to practicing, but the Bad Feeling roiling in her gut got worse. It wasn’t just the buzz of a demonic aura anymore, the energy started crackling with even more malice, and she swore there was a sickly smell in the air for a split second before she felt it pop.

Her instincts screamed at her to move, so she spun to the side, almost as if her body moved on its own. What looked like a whip made of pure green light zipped close enough to her that she felt the heat on her cheek. When it didn’t stop, neither did she; she jumped back and nearly fell over backwards trying to bend out of the way of the second snap of the whip. This time, she didn’t hesitate to cock her gun and fire.

The air was still for a second as the shot rang in her ears, tension crackling and fizzling out like the tails of fireworks. When Luna regained her balance, she aimed and pumped again to ready the second shell. No distraction this time, she was aiming straight for his face.

She expected him to be at least a little startled—hell, she could see she’d blasted the end of his sleeve off, and there was a surface burn on his hand from the Sacred Salt packed into her ammunition. His claws were still bared, still glowing green from where he’d lashed at her. What was frustrating, was that he didn’t seem like he was more than mildly perturbed.

“...how did you do that?”

She growled at him: “Sacred Salt, you wanna see it up close? Try me again, fucker.”

“Vulgar.” His voice was flat, but he did finally move… but not to walk around her. He stepped forward like he was trying to inspect her. “You are a priestess, I assume.”

“Nah, I ain’t that pretty and nice,” Luna said, keeping her stance and line of fire. “Call me a Demon Slayer, or a witch if you like. Names don’t matter, the end result will be the same.”

He’d moved to point-blank range, but that horrible feeling in her gut had only grown stronger—her instincts were telling her to run the fuck away, but logic told her the point was moot. She only had one shell left, and the first hadn’t amounted to more than a scrape on him. Even at this range, she’d never do much more than scratch him.

“Whatever name you take matters not to me,” He continued, “regardless. You are still human. And as such you are no match for my power. I will give you one more chance to get out of my way, or you will die.”

There was another tense moment of silence. Luna could feel her heart beating from her ears, to her toes, to the tip of her trigger finger. Resolute as she was—and as much as she so desperately wanted to wipe that calm, detached look off this proud asshole’s face—she knew she wasn’t making it out of here alive if she didn’t stand down. And it’d be kind of a lame-ass thing to say when she got to the afterlife: “How did I die? Oh, I refused to back down from a standoff with a super-powerful demon because I didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction of telling me what to do.”

“Fine.” She huffed, uncocking her gun and stepping out of the way. She sneered at him as she rested the gun on her shoulder. “But not because you told me to. I’m gonna be late for dinner if I don’t head back.”

The air was still thick with tension as she went to grab her sword. She didn’t look back at him, but she was hyper aware of his presence. Thankfully, this time, there was no climactic snapping of the tense energy; as she pulled her sword from the tree trunk, she felt his aura receding. When it was far enough away, she heaved a sigh of relief and let her shoulders relax.

“One of these days, girl, your pride is gonna get your ass killed!”

Luna rolled her eyes as she went back to collect her holster and her katana’s sheath. “I know, Alice,” she muttered to herself.

~ ~ ~

This was why Rin didn’t like humans.

She had only been minding her own business! She needed to eat, so she’d been foraging through the forest like she always did. She didn’t realize that she’d wandered so far away from Master Jaken and Ah-Un until she looked up, arms full of foraging spoils, and realized she had no idea where she was.

She tried to retrace her steps, calling out for Master Jaken and Lord Sesshomaru every once in a while, but it didn’t help. She remembered passing by a human village before, but she made a mistake in trying to use that as a way of finding her way back to where they had stopped. Because when she passed the village, she was confronted by some men that lived there.

“You’re the one we saw earlier, with those demons!” One of them said, “Child, you should not be living among them!”

Oh no. Rin began to back away from them, but they only drew closer. One of them cut off the path she was walking on.

The one closest to her was looming over her. “You should come with us. Demons are dangerous, you could be killed or eaten!”

“No, I won’t!” Rin said. She might’ve been trembling, but she was firm. “I won’t go with you, and I’m fine on my own!”

“Don’t be silly, you’re far too young!”

“Where are your parents?”

“If you tell us, perhaps we can help you return to them.”

“I don’t need your help.” Rin kept backing away, hoping to put enough distance between herself and the men. She clutched the little bundle of food closer to her and prepared to run. “Leave me alone!” Valiant as her attempt to escape was, it was still in vain. The one closest to her grabbed her arm, and she accidentally dropped her food. She tried to struggle away from him, but his grip was too tight.

“Let me go!” She yelled, tears pricking her eyes.

“You should be living with your own kind, girl!” the villager said, “You belong with humans!”

“OI.”

That was a new voice. Rin stopped pulling, and the villagers all turned their focus to the newcomer: it was a woman—human, as she appeared to be. Her black hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she was dressed strangely; black garb, and skin-tight like a ninja’s. She had something that looked like a very short, strangely-patterned kimono tied around her waist. In her hand was a short katana, and she carried what Rin thought looked like one of those matchlock guns on her back.

A samurai? Rin guessed. If she was, she was dressed really strangely. No armor, either? Maybe she really was a ninja.

The woman’s hazel-brown eyes narrowed at the village men. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” She held her hand out, gesturing to Rin. “Let the girl go, or we’re gonna have issues.”

What an odd accent. Rin looked up at the man, hoping he’d listen and let her go. No such luck yet.

“This doesn’t concern you, woman,” the man said. Rin could swear she saw a twinge of anger in the woman’s face when he called her that.

“This child was residing with demons!” One of the others joined in.

The woman arched an eyebrow. “So what? You her father?”

“No—”

“Uncle?”

“....no.”

“Caretaker?”

“No.”

“Then it ain’t much of your business either, now is it?” The woman crossed her arms, leveling a stare that could mow down a forest. In an instant, her expression changed as she shifted her eyes to Rin and gestured with her sword. “C’mere, honey.”

The man holding her wrist looked like he wanted to object, but Rin took the opportunity to rip her arm free and run away from him. She did not like humans, not in the very least. Humans were horrible, and these men were no different. But this woman—her eyes were soft, and she squatted down to Rin’s height when she stood next to her, her posture non-threatening.

“Did they hurt you?” She asked gently.

Rin stared at her a second, folded in on herself. “...No…”

“You know these guys? Are they from your village?”

Rin shook her head. “I don’t have a village…”

The woman nodded, processing that before asking: “You have someone taking care of you, sweetie?”

Cautious, Rin paused a second. It seemed this woman wanted to help her—but… she was still a human. Rin didn’t trust humans. There might’ve been something about her that was different. This close, Rin could see her eyes better: they weren’t just hazel brown, they just looked like that from far away. Most of the color was a cool brown, but right around her pupils, she had flecks of gold that took the shape of crescent moons.

Was she really a human with eyes like that? Lord Sesshomaru had golden eyes… and the crescent moon on his forehead! Perhaps she wasn’t a human after all—or she wasn’t a full human, at least. That settled it; she was definitely more trustworthy than most humans.

Rin smiled a little as she answered her: “Yes… I have Master Jaken and Lord Sesshomaru.”

Her savior nodded and smiled, then she stood to face the village men again, blocking them from Rin. “Alright, you all can head home. This girl is obviously spoken for.”

“By demons!”

“Are you mad?!” the one that grabbed her demanded. “She is in danger!”

“Probably,” the woman said. “But look at her. She’s unhurt, she’s obviously able to feed herself, and the only ones I see endangering her is you three. So scram.”

“How dare you talk back!”

Rin flinched as the leader reached out and smacked the woman across the face. She started shaking again, but this time it was from anger. “You can’t hit a girl like that!”

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” The woman’s voice was low. She cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders, and untied her odd kimono from around her waist. She turned around, set her weapons down, and held out the kimono. “Hold this for me?”

Confused, Rin nodded and took the garment, surprised at the soft, warm fabric. She watched as the woman turned back to the villagers once again.

“Alright, boys,” she said, cracking her knuckles as well. “Just remember… you hit first.”

The leader had no chance to figure out what she meant before she swung back and punched him square in the nose (Rin tried not to laugh). The other two shouted and lunged at her, but she kicked one in the side of his knee and smacked the other in the face with her elbow. When the first one went down, the second came back and tried to grab her, but she flipped him over her shoulder as easily as if she were lifting a sack of beans. The leader had fallen to his knees, cradling his bleeding nose. The woman stood before him, crossing her arms.

“Hope you’ve learned to leave young girls alone,” She said flatly, “If you haven’t, I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a response, she turned back to Rin, her face softening again. “Sorry you had to see that, honey.”

Rin shook her head, blinking wide eyes up at her as she held out the kimono. “...Are you a ninja?”

She laughed. “What? No, no, not a ninja. Just good at fighting. Thanks for holding my shirt for me.”

Shirt? Was that what that was called? This person was incredibly odd, but still; Rin was very grateful for her. She went to go gather her food up again, as the woman tied her “shirt” back around her waist and picked her weapons back up.

“Now,” she said, holding her hand out for Rin to take, “let’s get you back to your people.”

Rin happily took the outstretched hand. “Okay!”

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“I’m Rin!”

“Nice to meet ya, Rin. My name’s Luna.”

~ ~ ~

“Rin! Where on earth have you been?!”

Well, that was the shrillest voice Luna had ever heard. And it came from—what the fuck was that?!

“Master Jaken!”

...well. Sure, when she’d heard this little kid was “residing among demons” from those limp-dick douchebags from the neighboring village, she didn’t expect to be returning her to someone who looked like your average human. But when Rin mentioned she recognized where they were, she definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the sight of a little demon that looked like Kermit The Frog’s ugly step-cousin.

And yet, Rin spoke to him like he was an uncle. “Sorry, Master Jaken! I went to find something to eat, and I almost got taken by humans from that village!”

“WHAT?!” The little demon shrieked.

“No, it’s okay! Miss Luna helped me!” Rin turned back to look at her with a wide grin on her face, and Luna gave a little three-fingered wave.

“Yo.”

“I thought she was human at first,” Rin went on, “but now I think she might be a demon!”

Luna laughed at that. “What?”

“You foolish girl!” “Master Jaken” chastised her, “That’s no demon!”

Rin looked confused. “Huh? But… she has gold in her eyes, just like Lord Sesshomaru!”

Gods above, this kid was adorable. Luna shook her head, smiling fondly. “I promise, I’m not a demon.” When Rin looked disappointed, she added: “But I promise, I’m not like those guys that tried to take you. I’m one of the good ones.”

She was snapped out of her good mood by a familiar feeling. A demonic aura, another strong one. With her focus on the adorable kid—and the little demon and the horse (dragon?)-looking demon so close—she hadn’t noticed it until she felt it directly behind her. Her grip on her sword tightened, and she hazarded a look over her shoulder. And who should be standing there, but the pompous asshole she’d run into earlier.

Startled, she practically launched herself into the air, shouting: “[JESUS FUCK!]” in English. She didn’t dare draw either of her weapons, just stood out of the way so she wouldn’t be killed.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Rin greeted him happily.

What the fuck. “[Y… you’re—]” she stopped herself, trying to get her brain to go back to the right language. “[God damnit], you’re her Lord Sesshomaru?!”

“Lord Sesshomaru”, of course, didn’t answer. He just glared at her, likely planning how he was going to murder her. “Rin. Who is this woman.” It wasn’t a question, and those disdainful golden eyes never left Luna.

“This is Miss Luna!” Rin answered. “I was just telling Master Jaken: she saved me from these terrible villagers that were trying to take me away!”

Luna held up her hands defensively, never breaking eye contact with the demon. “Didn’t know she was with you. I just wanted to help her.”

Sesshomaru was silent for a moment, but his glare disappeared and his expression returned to indifference. Luna gave him a nod, a silent (yet contemptfully begrudging) sign of submission. Without another word on the subject, the demon passed her by.

“We’re leaving.” He said to the other two.

Luna made a face at him behind his back, then shook her head. Fuck, this guy pissed her off to no end, and she’d only known him for a little over an hour. The little girl, however, caused her to smile again, and Luna waved goodbye as she turned to leave.

“[What an asshole.]” She muttered, once again in English.

~ ~ ~

Luna had to admit, watching Inuyasha choke on his instant noodles was pretty hilarious. “You did WHAT?!”

“Yeah, this demon lord guy,” Luna said, waving her chopsticks around as she spoke. “Colossal dickhead. I had no idea that this little girl was his—well, not his, but— [dammit, what’s the word for it again…?]”

Kagome pressed her hands together, looking like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “Luna. Do you remember when I told you about Inuyasha’s older brother?”

“Kinda?” Luna said, slurping up more noodles. “Somethin’ about the swords, right? Inuyasha sliced off his arm?”

“Yes. You remember what his name was?”

“Uh…” Luna trailed off.

“Sesshomaru.” Kagome deadpanned.

“What’s this got to do with that assh—” It clicked, and Luna swore her eyes nearly came popping out of her head. “Wait— THAT was the older brother?!”

“Yes! I told you about him, Luna!”

“[Son of a BITCH, Kags!]” Dammit, she had to get better about that. “You know I’m shit with names!”

There was also, of course, the fact Kagome hadn't mentioned that he was fucking gorgeous, but there was no way in hell Luna was gonna say that out loud now.

Sango looked a little worried. “It doesn’t bode well that you just ran into him randomly.”

“Well, it’s not entirely impossible,” Miroku said, “he is searching for Naraku, just like we are. Unfortunately, that means our paths are likely to cross at some point.”

“What’s amazing is that you came out of it alive!” Shippo said to Luna. “He’s crazy powerful, and none too friendly at that.”

“I refuse to believe you just dodged his poison whip like that,” Inuyasha snorted. “He’s way too fast. You woulda been dead meat right then and there.”

“Maybe I’m just faster than you~” Luna teased him.

“You are not, ya damned liar!”

“Or maybe it’s cos I’m stronger—I am taller than you.”

“COME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE!”

“Guys, not over the food!”

#the lunar saga #inuyasha #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha oc #inuyasha au #fanfic #sesshomaru #rin #kagome higurashi #sango #miroku #shippo

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch.4

a/n: heyooooo, it’s chapter 4! btw, if y’all have requests send them in!!

masterlist

Once at the tour bus, you were met with various sleepy stares from a couple crew and the band members.

Sarah came up to you and basically melted into your hug, “I’m so tired…” She mumbled. You agreed with her as a crew person came up to take your suitcase and store it under the bus.

You realized there was more than once bus and wondered where you were supposed to go, “Hey Sar, do you know which bus I’m supposed to go on?” She rubbed the sleep out of her eye, “You’re probably on ours cause you’re Harry Styles ‘best friend’ right?” You nodded at her prediction and started to wonder about the friend thing.

Are we just going to pretend? Or does he actually wanna be real friends…

You were interrupted from your thoughts by Jeff tapping on your shoulder. “Good morning sunshine.” “Hey, Jeff.” “There’s an extra bed in the band’s bus you can take that one.” You gave a smile to him, “Thanks.”

Everyone climbed into their respective buses so they could start the 5-hour drive right on the dot. The bus was a lot bigger than you expected.

In the front behind the driver's seat was a long couch that sat opposite its twin couch, it the left corner close to the bus door was a tv drilled into the wall that sat diagonally. Farther back was a booth and table and then a mini kitchen on the right side. You walked farther back and saw on the left the small slide door to the bathroom and then another sliding door in the middle of the hallway opened to show the 4 sets of bunk beds, two on each side.

Each bed was covered with a curtain you could pull back. All of the beds thankfully, had their curtains open so you could see which one would most like be yours. It was the last bottom bed on the left side, it was the only one that didn’t have any pictures stuck on the walls inside around the tiny windows. One bed had fairy lights taped to the ceiling and another had a poster of Fleetwood Mac.

Putting down your backpack, you sat down onto the teal duvet that was too soft to be real.

“Innit comfy? 100% Egyptian Cotton.” You looked up to find a very cozy looking boy. Harry was wearing grey sweatpants and a tour hoodie.

His hair was sticking out from different angles and you could see the faint shadow of a beard growing. “Hi Harry, how are you feeling?” You asked as he sat down on the bed across from yours and started to take off his shoes.

“I’ll be better once we’re on the road.” Something about this tone made you wonder if he had a rough night but you didn’t ask anything else as the engine started up and the rest of the band came into the sleeping area to try and sleep the whole trip to Amsterdam.

Someone hit the lights off as the bus started to move and everyone’s curtains closed sans yours and Harry’s. You pulled your noise-canceling headphones you’d gotten as a present from a friend the year before and connected it to your phone to play some tunes to drown out the hum of the engine.

Little streams of light flashed in from your tiny window every so often so you pulled the black-out blinds shut and climbed into the XL twin bed.

You gave a little wave to Harry who had set up with a book and closed your curtain to try and sleep.

At some point on the drive, one of the turns the tour bus had taken jostled you awake. You pulled your blinds up a tiny bit to see that the sun was just breaking over the horizon.

You pulled your headphones off and took your hair down to brush through with your fingers. You contemplated going back to sleep but decided not to so you could enjoy the sunrise as you rode through the lovely landscape of Europe. You closed your blinds again and pulled back your curtains to get out of bed.

What surprised you was the bed across from you was empty, the curtain pulled back all the way and the conformer kicked down towards the end of the bed. After glancing around to see all the others were closed, you tiptoed out of the corridor and slipped out the sliding door, softly closing it behind you.

“Wha ’re doin’ up so early?

A British voice asked as you turned around to see the man of the hour sprawled out on the left side couch with a bowl of oatmeal in hand.

You padded over to the opposite couch and sat down into it, admiring how it swallowed you up.

Sorta like the cat bus in Totoro…

“Just got jostled awake by a turn, I wanted to watch the sunrise.” He hummed at your response and took a scoop of oatmeal.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the horizon painted with rays of yellow, orange, and peach.

“Sorta looks like a Sunflower doesn’t it?” You said aloud to him, still watching the new bursts of light dance around on the land below it. You heard the tap in the kitchen run and looked to see Harry rinsing out his empty bowl.

“Why are you up so early?” You finally asked, after swaying between thinking it might overstep boundaries or not. He shrugged and sat down, this time sitting on your couch. He rested an arm on the backrest and watched the road.

“Not sleeping well I guess.” You didn’t say anything, just watched out the window with him, not wanting to scare him if he decided to elaborate.

After a few minutes, he finally did. “I had a phone call last night that I wasn’t expecting and it just, messed with my head. Didn’t sleep very well s’all.”

Frankly, you didn’t know what position you were in to give advice but he seemed pretty torn up so you decided to give it a go.

“When I get into an argument with someone, I try and think of the qualities of them that I love them for and try to see my side from their point of view. Sometimes it infuriates me to the core cause I can’t see a different version of the story than mine, but once I do its easier to work things out cause then I can address the points that, if I were in their shoes, would upset me.”

He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “But Harry,” you put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his face ever so slightly to look at you, “remember that sometimes the other side of the argument may not be true and you can’t do anything about it. So if you can’t do anything to change it, don’t let yourself be consumed by it.”

You cracked a small smile, “Plus lavender and chamomile tea always put my mind at ease and it’s easier to sleep after a cuppa I think.”

The conversation ended without his response because Mitch and Sarah came into the main space to make coffee and breakfast. While the three musicians chatted, you slipped back into the cabin to grab your toothbrush and went into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do other things. You curled your eyelashes again, just in case.

After putting your makeup bag back in your backpack, you pulled your laptop out and sat down on your bed after pulled the blinds up. You didn’t get under the covers because it started to get warm in the bus.

“Clare?” The woman in question looked down at you from the top bunk that sat diagonally opposite yours. “Is there wifi on the bus?” She smiled and answered. “Ya, connect to the router ‘only’ and type in for the password ‘angel’.”

You snorted at the namesake of both titles and gave her a thanks. You opened your email account and sent an email to both of your college profs to plead to ask to transfer your work online.

Hello prof!

So, a situation has occurred and I’m going now to be in Europe for the next month. Is there any way I would be able to transfer my classes online for the time being?

Let me know what actions I need to take.

Y/N L/N

After re-reading it a couple times, you sent it off just to get out there before class was supposed to start again.

For the next two hours, you went over the syllabus and tried to find things you’d be able to write about or take pictures of incase your teachers needed a bit more convincing.

You had pulled out your camera and were looking through some of the recent pictures of Europe you had taken for the extra credit assignment your photography teacher had given you when Harry walked back into the sleeping area.

He sat on his bed and pulled his feet into a crisscross applesauce position.

“You’re a photographer?” He inquired. You glanced up at him for a moment and then looked back down in concentration on the picture in front of you and the screen of your laptop.

“Yeah, for class.—Damn, I don’t think this photo qualifies.” “Huh?” Harry hopped off his bed and peaked down to what you were looking at.

“Scoot over.” “What?”

He rolled his eyes are you and squished onto the bed with you. “What are you working on?” He asked with what looked like, honest interest. It surprised you a bit, since why would he care?

He could be doing so many, probably more important things on the ride than sitting with me.

“Well, I’m taking a photography class in college, one of my last actually. I did dual credit classes in high school and only needed a few to technically graduate with my degree.”

“Wha’s your degree ’n?”

“Photography and Media Arts with a minor in Creative Writing.”

He blew a larger breath out and sat back against the pillows you propped up against the wall, “That’s a mouthful innit?”

You smiled and held the camera up a bit to zoom into the picture. “I love it, I actually take photos for a few companies in New York which is exciting. It’ll help that I already have clients leaving college.”

“Where do you go to college?” “NYU.” “Very cool aren’t yeh?” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled at the compliment. “So what’s wrong with the picture?” He asked.

“I’m working on an assignment—” “during spring break?!” “—an extra credit assignment, and basically for each of these words I need a picture that correlates to it. The crossed off ones I’ve already completed.”

Harry leaned forward to read the words off your laptop.

Extra Credit Work

Please take photos over this month and relate at least one picture to each word below. Each picture is worth 10 points. You can add a caption about the picture to help it associate in need.

Joy

Sour

Chaos

Silly

Bright

Anguish

Erotic

Heavenly

Red

Enigma

Due May 1st.

“This is the photo I wanted to use for Joy but I don’t know if it's too generic or not.”

You gave him the camera, the photo was of Maggie on the first day in Paris. She was leaning backwards, looking at the Eiffel Tower.

“See, you can’t see her face, which is okay but the body isn’t giving that much expression either so I’m not sure if it will come off as stiff or not.”

He spent a few more moments looking at the picture and then the word. “I think it represents joy perfectly.”

You tilted your head and gave a quizzical expression.

“Look,” he started, “your definition of joy is different from someone else, right? But it’s easier to see that the focus of the photo is in a carefree state, leanin’ back, hair down. An’ I don’t think her body is stiff, ’t’s just relaxed. You can add a caption too if you want right? Maybe add somethin' like, the true feeling of joy ’s when you can finally throw your head back an’ not worry about hittin a wall or som’hin like that.”

He handed you the camera back and you looked at the picture again with a different view on it. “Wow—thank you, that’s honestly just what I needed to hear.” He looked down to his fingers, “can say the same fo’ this morin’, thank you fo’ that.”

Close it quickly Y/N….

Close them…huh?

“Blinds!”

Someone yelled from the main corridor. Harry jumped up from the bed and you pulled your blind shut as he pulled his shut and checked the others.

“Wha’ is it?!” He yelled into the other room, you trailed behind him after putting your things back into your backpack. Adam had a clicker in his hand that put down a black veil over both large windows in the main compartment.

“This bus has blacked-out windows, why the veils?” You asked.

“Cause if fans come up to the bus with a flash camera, it can still take a picture of the inside, this way the veil blocks it out.” The veils still allowed you to see through them sorta and you gasped at the sight before you. It seemed as though hundreds of people had mobbed the as the bus was trying to drive through.

“We’re in Amsterdam.” You stated.

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, “seems as though the fans were tipped off of which hotel we’re staying in or something.” After hearing that, the whole room filled with a slight tension that caused you back to ache.

Clare glanced at her phone, “Jeffery is telling us to brace ourselves cause the hotel doesn’t have a private entrance we could drive through, we’re gonna have to go through the crowd.” The band dispersed to get their stuff.

As you packed up, Harry’s phone started to ring.

“Yeh? Mhm, yeah—fuck you’r right.” The British heartthrob turned to look at you which made you wonder who he was talking to.

“Will do, bye.” He ended the call and took his black hoodie off.

“Give me your sweatshirt, Jeff says we’ve got to make sure you don’t draw too much attention to yourself cause we don’t want a riot since we don’t ‘ave security wit’ us.”

You nodded and shrugged off the pink long sleeve. Once you got the hoodie over your head, you noticed how it engulfed you slightly.

“Got any sunnies?”

You pulled some out from a case in your bag and slipped them on. “We’re as close to the door as we can get, it’s time to go!”

Sarah called out to the band. “Hold you’r backpack in your hand, don’t want them to grab the handle and yank you back.” You only nodded and tied your tennis shoes before following the rest of them out to the door.

“Ready? Open, open, open!”

masterlist

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles tour 2018 #harry styles concert #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

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kariachi · 3 years

Text

Some fic that technically has flit stuff but mostly just has the Amalgams and Argit.

Family time.

It was the anniversary of the day- two weeks and four days after the Rooters situation had been officially declared dealt with by the Plumbers- that an innocuous package had arrived at Argit’s containing four familiar heads, courtesy of some connections and favors he and Kevin had kept in their back pockets for just such an emergency. The day the surviving victims of Proctor Jonathon Servantis’s plots had known, without a doubt, that it was all over. That they wouldn’t have to worry about him or his underlings again.

It was worth celebrating.

“Onions and blue cheese? Really?”

“It’s good!”

“Yeah, you’re sitting by Manny, there’s no reason the rest of us should suffer.

“Pansy.”

“Weirdo.” Alan and Kevin stuck their tongues out as each other as the latter grabbed his pizza off the truly staggering pile and plopped down on Manny’s far side, smirking when he immediately accepted an offered slice. “Traitor.”

“What,” Manny said with a shrug as he dug in, “I can’t smell it.”

“You’re both horrible.”

“Oh you think that’s bad, you got a break from them for a few years there.” Hemming and hawing, Argit looked through the other boxes. “Was it someone specific who got the two ham and pineapple?”

“Me.” Helen was immediately by his side.

“I’m stealing one.”

“The hell you are.”

“I’m surrounded by heathens.” Manny reached out and patted Alan’s shoulder as he dropped his head into his hands, setting a pepperoni and olive in front of him.

“At least we’re fun heathens.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Kevin added as Alan melodramatically shook his head, “I do have presents ready.” Everyone turned to look at him as Alan raised his head, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Presents.”

“It’s a celebration, of course there’s presents!” As he flashed them a grin and twisted in his seat to try to reach and rummage through the chest set against the wall a few feet away the others turned to Argit, who merely shrugged.

“I know he’s been planning something, I don’t know what.”

“Oh wow it is a secret,” Helen said as she and the boys’ eyes widened, “I didn’t think he could keep those from you.”

“Trust me, I’m shocked too.”

“Oh hush it you little- Hah!” Suspended over the space between the couch and the chest, legs hooked on the arm and elbows resting on the open rim, Kevin held up a present triumphantly before tossing it backwards at the others. Three others soon followed, all with the same red bow and painstakingly wrapped in the same silver paper that reflected the lights Manny and Helen had insisted on putting up, along with the flowers Argit had insisted on. There were no tags on them, no names, and looking to Kevin gave nothing but an expectant smile, so they each picked one at random and set to opening.

The contents were as identical as the packages themselves- a tabletop space heater, a large container of coconut oil, and several cans of fish.

Nobody said anything.

Kevin was still smiling.

“Okay,” Helen said after several long moments, “what the fuck?” They all stared as Kevin just grinned wider and dove back into the chest. For several more moments they waited as he grumbled before it became clear that whatever else was in there he needed two hands for it. “Oh for the love of-” Balling up a napkin, Helen nailed Kevin in the ass with it. “Manny, please!” Without hesitation he shoved Kevin off the couch, biting back a snort as he hit the ground with a thud.

“Ungrateful,” Kevin muttered as he climbed to his feet, blowing a raspberry around the room. Now that he wasn’t being a moron it only took a few quick seconds for him to pull out a small tray with five clay pots carefully arranged on it, which he presented with a flourish and a grin. Immediately Argit barked a laugh as the others craned their heads curiously.

“Seriously, Kev?!”

“So, am I the best,” Kevin asked as he set the tray on the coffee table, nudged his poor flattened pizza aside with his foot, and draped himself at Manny’s side, “or am I the best?”

“Depends on what this is,” Helen responded, she and the other three each grabbed a pot- Argit with by far the most enthusiasm. Hers, and the others beside her, contained a single, good-sized egg. Multicolored, each of them, in pale tones that made designs in the same ‘tilt your head and focus’ way as clouds did. “So…”

“Firelizard eggs,” Argit answered, shaking his head with a stupid look as he also balled up a napkin and threw it at Kevin. “A fucking firelizard starter kit, what the fuck.” Kevin just laughed in response as understanding washed over Helen and Manny.

“Fuck yeah,” Manny crowed, “I’ve been wanting one of these!”

“Whats,” Alan asked, looking around lost at the others, the one with the least experience in offworld matters.

“Little dragons,” Helen said, “they’re really popular once you get off Earth.”

“And handy,” Kevin added. “They take great to training and can be really handy around the house. And even if they aren’t, they’re telepathic teleporters- if one of us gets into trouble they can teleport to one of the others for help. So if somebody, say, dives into the Null Void despite all warnings and advice-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Alan said as he, Manny, and Helen all groaned, “will you just drop that?!”

“Never!”

“It was our right to get involved!”

“You got yourselves re-enslaved!”

“Lot of fucking concern about that from a dude who fed off us!”

“I apologized for that!”

“And I apologized for the Null Void!”

“You didn’t mean it, I could see it in your eyes!”

Manny stood up and moved out from between Kevin and Alan as they descended into what was really a common argument. He instead settled in on Argit’s far side, pot cradled against his torso like something might happen to it.

“So,” he asked, “any idea how you tell what’s in these things?”

“Not really,” Argit replied with a shrug. “There’s some shit out there about bigger eggs having bigger ‘lizards, but the largest one I ever saw supposedly came out of an egg half the size of these so…”

“So we have no idea.” Sighing melodramatically, Manny shook his head. As if he would’ve swapped his, from how he already held it. “Figures. Should we be getting litter boxes or…”

“I don’t think they need them? Kevin probably knows more than me at this point.” As if on que, over on the other couch said Disaster A started sparking while Disaster B brandished a fireball. Sharing a look far too fondly bemused for the situation, the three all began balling up napkins and hurling them at the pair.

“There are eggs present,” Manny declared as they rounded on them with identical looks of affront and betrayal.

“And,” Helen added as the two began settling back down, blowing raspberries at each other, “this is a family event. You can kill each other on your own time.”

Argit and Manny nearly fell over laughing.

#fanfic

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spartanguard · 4 years

Text

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 7/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

A/N: OMG IT’S THE LAST CHAPTER!! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented on it; I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it! I don’t exactly have a timeline for the next story yet, but I’ll probably start working on it when I’m done with my CSSNS commitments. And thank you again to @captainswanbigbang for giving a great venue to revisit this, and to @optomisticgirl for being an amazing beta. Title is from “Safe and Sound” by Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 7—Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The trip home was...weird. That was the only way Robyn could describe it. It was the same train, and the same views of Pomem flying by outside, but in reverse—which felt poetically appropriate (or something like that; she wasn’t great at writing).

Because this trip was a complete 180 from the previous: last time, she knew there was a very decent chance she was being carried away to her death; to have escaped that—and lived through everything—definitely carried a sense of relief with it, but she also knew she wasn’t the same person she was a few weeks ago.

Granted, it was a much better 180 than the one most of the other tributes had taken: leaving home alive and well and heading back in a coffin.

(Could there actually be that many 180s from the same point? She wasn’t great at geometry either.)

(God, she was probably going to have to go back to school, wasn’t she? Ugh, being 16 sucked.)

She knew that a whole different life was waiting for her in Sherwood, but how she was supposed to build it on the foundation of her past was what she hadn’t figured out yet. There was probably a house waiting for her and her mom in Victor's Village—whichever one they wanted, most likely, given that Eloise and Alice were the only other living Victors. She wouldn’t have to go to work in the textile factories or cotton fields like everyone else was expected to, and she didn’t even have to follow her mom’s footsteps into midwifery if she didn’t want to. She’d probably have to become a mentor, once she finished high school, but that was far from a full-time job.

Hell, she was even nervous about seeing her mom again. As much as she’d felt a pang of jealousy at the fact that Alice had her mother—well, both parents—with her, as stilted as her relationship was with Eloise, and as much as Robyn desperately wanted to fall into her own mom’s hug and never leave, she wasn’t sure it would hold the same comfort it used to.

She was going to be vaguely poetic again: she was standing on a precipice, but couldn’t see past the edge.

That was semi-literal; the train was going through mountains, so there was stone on one side and a sheer cliff over forest on the other. The sun was making its slow ascent and Alice was snoring in the bed, feet away.

Technically, they had their own cars, but neither of them really wanted to be that far from each other; they’d done that enough after the games. They'd spent the last couple days of the ride talking, cuddling, kissing, and getting to know each other in a somewhat normal manner—like people usually do when they're not caught up in a death match. She knew now that Alice's favorite color was light blue, like the spot where the sea meets the sky; that her favorite place was her father's ship; and she had this adorably ticklish spot on her hip, right at the juncture of her thigh bone. (They hadn't just kissed...they were still teenagers, after all.)

And on her end, she’d been able to tell Alice about helping her mom with births when she was growing up and how that made her never want kids; about how her favorite color was orange, like a sunrise; and about the father she’d never met, but grew up in the shadow of.

“God, I can't imagine not having a papa,” Alice had said. “What happened?”

“He died in that big fire that knocked out Factory 21 when we were babies. He was trying to get other people out when a beam collapsed on him.”

“Oh my god; I'm so sorry. Your poor mum!”

Robyn had to shrug at that. “Well, he and my mom were never formally together, same as your parents. He was actually a widower and had another kid; you know Roland, the groundskeeper?”

“Yes! Oh my god, he has the curliest hair.”

“He's my half brother.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, he went to live with his mom's relatives after the accident; I was only a couple months old, so I was already with my mom. There was some drama with the settlement money being split between me and Roland, so he and I aren't close at all. All I've got are my mom’s stories, and what other people have said. And apparently my skill with a bow; I guess he was a great shot.”

“Hey, that's a pretty great way to honor him—using that to win the games.”

“I guess.”

The one thing they hadn't managed to talk about at all, though, was what came next—for them, as a couple. Robyn loved Alice, she knew—but she was also a teenager and so much could change. If she had all these other questions about her future, was Alice going to be a constant, or a variable?

(She did okay at science.)

Even though she’d only been around him for a tiny bit, she kind of wished she had Killian to talk to, like Alice would. He seemed like the kind to dispense good fatherly advice.

Or he’d pass judgment on the person who was dating his daughter. Hard to say.

At least she had access to the next best thing: Eloise. To be honest, Robyn was still intimidated by her, even if they were kind of on equal footing now, at least socially. There was just this...aura she gave off, or something, that set Robyn on edge. But if they were going to be part of each other's lives for the foreseeable future, one or both of them would have to get over that.

And this was the last leg of their journey home so she should probably do it sooner rather than later.

She grabbed a robe and slipped it on over her Olympus-provided pajamas that she had definitely stolen, gave Alice a kiss on the cheek that she didn't notice (and she probably wouldn't be awake for another few hours), and quietly slipped out of the train car to the next one—the club car.

Robyn had figured it’d be a good place to get a bite to eat and wait for Eloise to wake, but to her surprise, her mentor was already there.

“Uh, hi—good morning,” she stammered, afraid to move for some reason. “You’re up early.”

“Actually, you are,” Eloise answered. “I’m kind of surprised after what you two got up to last night.”

It was still pretty dark in the car, which was good because Robyn’s cheeks were probably the color of the hibiscus tea Eloise was drinking.

“I’m not judging; just...consider your volume in the future.” She was smirking; what did that mean? God, she should just turn around now. Or better yet, throw herself off the moving train. But it would be pretty silly to come this far only to die of mortification.

“Take a seat; grab a bite. You won’t get food like this at home.” Eloise gave her a pointed look with her invitation that told Robyn she didn't really have a choice here, so she complied, taking a seat on the other side of the table and reaching for a muffin.

She picked at it while working up the nerve to ask her questions—or even remember what they were—when Eloise spoke up.

“I get the impression this wasn't just a casual social call,” she said, eyeing Robyn and then taking a sip of tea. “Are you wondering what comes next?”

“Uh—yeah, actually; how did you know?”

“Because I’m a mother, even if I’m not particularly maternal. And because I had that same kind of nervous energy after I won my games.”

Robyn chewed her bite of muffin—was that blueberry green tea flavored? Dang—while deciding where to start. It probably made sense to start with the hardest one. “How...how did you go back to your mom?”

Eloise’s brow furrowed, and she took another long sip of tea. “To be honest, I’m still not sure. My mother was a firm believer in being one with nature, in pacifism; I sometimes wonder if she didn't want me to win at all—if she would have preferred I be killed instead of doing the killing. I could barely look her in the eyes when I got off the train.”

She paused to take another sip, but a lump was caught in Robyn’s throat—that was exactly how she felt right now.

“But she shocked me—she just lifted my chin, smiled at me, and pulled me into her arms. Mothers have a large capacity for forgiveness, you know.”

Robyn scoffed. “You haven’t met my mother, though.” To say Zelena West could hold a grudge was putting it lightly; they could only go to certain shops in town because of the petty fights her mom had picked.

“Oh no, I have. Who do you think delivered Alice?”

Robyn’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Mhmm. I think you were a few months old at the time, and she was pretty desperate to get back to you—but Alice was taking her sweet time.”

“I can see that,” Robyn giggled.

“But she finally made her appearance, and your mum told me that becoming a mother was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Now, personally, I’m not sure I can say the same, but I have to assume your mother still believes that, and is just going to be happy you’re home.”

“But...I'm not the same person I was then. The things I’ve done…”

“She knows, Robyn. Everyone saw it. And she’s still going to love you and be there for you.”

That made Robyn feel a bit better, but an awful question came into her head. And she couldn’t hold it back. “Is that how you feel about Alice?”

Eloise finished her tea, then set the mug down. “I’m terrible at showing it, but yes. Motherhood was never something I wanted, but it got me out of a situation I wasn't happy with. We may not be close—and we’ll never be as close as she is with her father—but I’m still proud of her.”

“Good. You should be.”

Eloise smirked at Robyns matter-of-fact statement. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because Alice is awesome!” Robyn blurted out. “She’s sweet and funny and kind and amazing and—”

She was cut off by Eloise’s laughter. “Alright, I believe you. I had my doubts there, but you’ve convinced me.”

“What?” Hold on—doubts? “Convinced you of what?”

“That you really love her.”

Robyn was dumbstruck. “You didn't think so before?”

Eloise leveled an unamused look at her. “Robyn. You and I are more similar than you think. You can see strategy beyond your emotions; Alice...can’t. Not as well.”

“You think...I was faking?”

“I wondered.”

That muffin was threatening to come back up.

“I’m glad it’s real though; that makes the future easier.”

“Easier?”

Just then, the door swung open, and a groggy Alice stumbled in. “Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling sleepily; Robyn’s heart skipped a beat, it was so cute.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly shy.

“Good,” was all Eloise could say. “You both probably need to hear this.”

Alice flopped down on the plush seat next to Robyn. “Hear what?”

“How the rest of your lives are going to go.”

Alice had been slathering marmalade on toast, but slowed her roll, her eyes growing wide. “What do you mean?”

“You know this can't end, right?” Eloise asked, pointing a condescending finger between them. “This is who you are now: the Star-Crossed Lovers of Sherwood, defeating all odds to get their happy ending.”

Under the table, Robyn reached for Alice's thigh and squeezed. “But we’re only teenagers. I don't...I don’t think my feelings will change, but...” She made a point to not look at Alice when she said that, scared of what might be on her face at a statement like that.

But, to her surprise, Alice was the one to reply. She sighed, saying “No, she’s right; the games are never over. Whatever happens between us, Olympus is only going to want to see one thing.”

“What, us?”

“Yeah,” Alice said, a bit sadly, breaking Robyns heart. “Why else do you think we’ve had to keep it a secret that I’m Killian Jones’ daughter? There’d be no more privacy ever for my family; and it’d break all sorts of laws.”

“They’d stop caring at some point, right?”

Eloise shook her head. “Look at the Misthaven dynasty.”

Everyone knew about the Nolan family—David and Snow, who won and fell in love; then their daughter Emma, who fell in love with another victor and had a son; god, that kid was doomed. But they were still the focus of a lot of attention during the games, and even more once Snow became the mayor there. They might as well be royalty.

Shit, was that Alice and Robyn now?

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Alice agreed.

“But what if—what if it doesn't work out?”

Alice was quiet while Eloise answered. “It has to. Unless you want bad things to happen.” Abruptly, she stood then. “If you excuse me; I need to make sure I’m packed before we get home.” And she left an incredibly awkward silence behind her in the car.

Alice picked up her toast and finally ate it, and Robyn finished her muffin. Alice picked up another piece of bread, and the knife for the marmalade, but that probably wasn't even sharp enough to cut the tension between them.

She tried anyway though. “Do..do you really not think we’ll make it?” she asked quietly.

“I…” Robyn started, but she really had no idea what to say. “I...want to,” she settled on. “But I’m also only 16. I don't even know what I want to do next week.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Alice said through a mouthful of toast. She chewed and swallowed, then continued, “I know we’re young, and I know our lives are going to be crazy from here on out. but one thing I'm certain of is you. And I don't want pity or anything, and I don't want to find out you only feel bad for me or something, or you just did it for the games, and that’s why you like me back. And—ugh!” she yelled, throwing her toast at the table and grabbing at her cuff.

This wasn't the first time this had happened: anytime Alice got overly emotional, something happened with her magic that caused a painful reaction with the cuff; in a calm moment, she’d explained that her magic was tied to emotion, so it seemed that whenever hers got out of control, its attempts to rein her in ended painfully.

“Hey, I've got you,” Robyn said quietly, moving closer and pulling Alice into her arms.

But Alice pushed back. “No; not now,” she barked, then winced. “I'm going—I need my mum. I’ll see you later.” She was up and out of the car faster than Robyn could protest.

Well, fuck. She’d made a mess of that, hadn’t she?

And out of all that, the worst part was watching Alice walk away.

Maybe they needed some space; maybe that would help. She’d try to talk to her when they got home—when things were less tense.

But her appetite was pretty well gone, so she got up and followed the other two out. She didn't go to Alice’s car, though; she kept going to hers, little used as it was. She probably needed to pack, too, and get dressed and all that. They’d be home in just a few hours.

It was funny; barely an hour ago, she’d been scared about that, and now, all she wanted was her mom.

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Killian always hated this part of the games. Not like he really enjoyed any of it, but escorting the bodies of two children to their waiting parents was a burden he loathed carrying.

Ariel knew to avoid him while they were traveling home; that was the only time he really let the emotional toll of the games envelop him. It typically involved him spending some quality alone time with however much of Olympus’s good rum his sticky fingers had nabbed. As a consequence, he usually didn’t remember much of the trip.

He knew they were close to home when the trees flying by his window began to thin and he saw the reflective glimmer of the ocean on the horizon. (Also, he’d finished the last of the rum.) There was still a boozy fog clouding his perception, but the disastrous state of his sleeping car told him that he’d been exceptionally violent toward the sheets and furniture this year.

Which was to be expected, honestly. Other than his own games, and maybe Liam’s, he’d never been put through the wringer as roughly. He prayed to whoever was listening that the games would never be so terrible again. Maybe he could persuade Nemo to come out of retirement for next year so he could stay home; Gold might not like that, but fuck him.

Gods, even just the thought of the man sent a shiver down Killian’s spine that had nothing to do with the epic hangover he was nursing. When Archie mentioned that Belle had been in the company of the president, it immediately drew his memories back to Milah. She was never far from his thoughts during the games, but the thought of Gold’s attention being directed at another beautiful, unsuspecting young woman—and how it might end for the lass—brought back anger he hadn’t felt in some time. It was a blessing Emma was there and knew to remove him from the situation.

Finally being able to release all the fear he’d felt for Alice was equally cathartic. And not just during the games: from every reaping prior, from Olympus finding out about her parentage, and all the normal parents’ fears—though some remained, obviously. Watching and helping her navigate the next step of their insane lives was going to be interesting.

And then there was Emma. His fingers drifted to his lips; he was fairly certain he could still feel them tingling from her kiss, even days later. (It might have been the rum, but he liked to imagine otherwise.) It had completely taken him by surprise, yet somehow also hadn’t—like it had been the release they both needed after the days of tension. In his stupor, his mind had taken it even farther—envisioning scenes of passion between them that made his heart (and other parts) stutter. He knew it was all sorts of impolite and improper, but knowing she wasn't actually in love with Graham seemed to give his dreams free rein.

There was definitely something there between them. He couldn’t quite place what, but she stirred something in him that hadn’t reacted in a long time. He wouldn’t dare say his heart—not romantically, at least; as far as he was concerned, that part still belonged to Milah.

But maybe, just maybe, Emma was the one who would finally help him move on from her memory. And that terrified him just as much as losing Milah all over again.

The train slowed down, and he forced himself to pull it together. Making sure he was properly dressed and looking not-too-disheveled, he gathered his things and found Ariel in the windowed caboose.

“Feel better?” she asked, with a look on her face somewhere between concern and amusement.

“Aye, I might make it another year.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” She was definitely trying to get at something. Why was there a sparkle in her eye?

“I doubt there’s much to talk about, love. You likely heard the worst of it.” He had a tendency to do a lot of shouting in the condition he’d been in.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she said with a knowing smirk. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell Emma.”

Bloody hell.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The sun was at its peak, but it struggled to break through the thick canopy of trees. Emma inhaled the strong pine scent; it brought her some temporary relief as she descended the steps from the train platform.

Home. She was home.

“Mom!” Henry’s voice called out to her, and she quickly scanned the small crowd gathered at the station until she found her son’s dark-haired head bobbing towards her. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she dropped her bags and scooped him into a tight hug.

“I missed you,” he said into her shoulder.

“I missed you, too, kid.” She could have stood in her son’s embrace for hours had Graham’s voice not broken through just then.

“What, I’m invisible?” he joked. Henry let go of Emma and raced toward Graham.

“I missed you, too, Dad.” Graham responded with a warm smile and a strong hug.

Emma wished the moment wouldn’t end, but she became intensely aware of eyes on her. She hesitantly looked up, and met the gaze of Marco, August’s father; Tamara’s family wasn’t far behind him. This was the part she was dreading.

It didn’t help that she’d just had her own reunion with her son right in front of them; how cruel. She nudged Graham with her elbow and said, “Henry, can you go wait with your grandparents? Your dad and I have something to take care of before we go home.” Her son ran off to her parents, who were waiting in the street.

Graham wordlessly grabbed her hand and squeezed; she didn’t have to look at him to know he wasn’t excited about this part, either, but they owed it to the families.

Marco, painfully, thanked them for doing all they could; he was sincere, but it was hard for Emma to hear that; she’d already spent half the trip home wondering what she could have done better. Not that anyone really stood a chance against the Sherwood girls, but she was her own harshest critic.

Tamara’s family was thankfully a bit more reserved. Knowing they were angry about it was probably better, since Emma was. She didn't want forgiveness; she wanted to do better. (Though, in reality, she wanted to never have to do this again.)

At least they were there, though. Every time she was here after the games, she flashed back to when Neal—well, his body—came home, and she was the only one to claim it.

Dark Knights were in charge of unloading the caskets, and Emma couldn't stick around for that; that was too much. So she and Graham excused themselves to where her parents were waiting.

“You did great,” her mom said as she hugged her. It didn't make Emma feel any better, but she supposed her mom knew better than anyone how she felt right now.

“And there's always next year,” her dad added, pulling her into his arms and cradling her head like he always had. It didn't matter if she was a full-grown adult with blood on her hands; that always made her feel better.

With the hellos done, they started the short walk back to Victor’s Village and their side-by-side houses. Just as Emma expected, her mom asked for a full run-down of everything that happened; they may be happily retired, but Snow would never be fully able to pull herself out of the gossip of the games.

“And the new victors! What are they like?”

“They're sweet,” Graham said; Emma had to hold back a scoff that anyone who won the games could be called that, but it did seem to be the case for Alice.

“Oh, good; they seemed to be. Eloise's daughter seems so different from her—which is probably a good thing. God, I just can't believe they weren't going to let them both win; that was heartbreaking.”

A very belated realization hit Emma: that must have been what Eloise and Jefferson were planning that night in the Game Center, when she and Killian brought the burn medicine. How was she just now seeing that?

(Probably because Killian was clouding her memory. For reasons. Fairly obvious ones.)

“Oh, and Killian! What was it like working with him?” God, her mom’s timing couldn't be more annoyingly perfect, could it?

“It was great,” Graham answered, looking at her with a sly grin. “He knows what he’s doing, and actually, he and Emma worked great together.”

She promptly elbowed Graham in the side. She’d told him about the kiss—she had to—and he was way too encouraging about the whole thing.

“Oh really? That’s so wonderful; those relationships are so great to have.” Her mom then rambled on about the people she would ally with over the years, but Emma’s mind stopped paying attention at the word ‘relationship’. Even if it was being used platonically, something in her read more into that.

Regardless of Graham’s reaction, what she’d told Killian was true: it had to be a one-time thing. Even if she’d see him again in a year at the next games. And the ones after that, and so on until she retired. But that wasn’t sustainable—a once-a-year fling? No. There were probably people who did that, but Emma couldn’t. Her heart wasn’t that flexible.

Unbidden, her mind imagined what it could be like, though: sneaking away for quick encounters, the feeling of that taunting chest hair against her skin...no. It wasn’t gonna happen. But, goddammit, why did he have to have a sweet side? Why did he have to understand her so well?

“Mom, you alright?” Henry asked; she jolted at his voice, and then realized they were home.

“Yeah, kid; just thinking about stuff.”

“I get it,” he said, in a tone that was far more mature than any 11-year-old had a right to be speaking in. “You had a long couple weeks.”

“Yeah, that's one way to put it,” she agreed. “But I'm glad to be home.”

“I'm glad, too,” he said, with a grin that looked more and more like his father’s every day.

She shook her head, either to shake away the ghosts of the past or the ones that had been following her since the train pulled out of Olympus.

The only person she needed was Henry.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Twelve years ago

Neal Cassidy was handsome, charming, sweet—everything a 16-year-old girl would fall for. And Emma had fallen—hard. He was her first kiss, her first love, and he was even polite to her parents, who had initially been a bit wary of the boy who had a reputation as something of a delinquent.

(But, honestly, that was another part of his charm; Emma had been forced to be the image of grace and class ever since she was born. With Neal, she found a bit of freedom from that imposed burden.)

They were already sweethearts when her name was pulled at 16. He left her with a deep kiss that was part of her motivation to keep going in the Games (that and, you know, not wanting to die). And the first thing she did when she arrived home after winning—at least, in private—was return that kiss with all the passion of someone who had been on death’s doorstep but survived.

For the next year, they were hardly out of each other’s company, save for her victory tour. The night before the next reaping—before she was expected back in Olympus—she gave herself to him, with no regrets.

“I just want to make sure you won’t forget me over the next few weeks,” she’d told him, winking.

“As if I could I ever,” he assured her.

But then his name was chosen the next day. And now it was her turn to give him a passionate kiss goodbye. (And again on the train...and in Olympus...and right before he left for the games.)

As his mentors, her parents did all they could to keep him alive. They were hoping for a repeat of their own story: both victors, able to go home and have a happily ever after. Emma desperately wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do but watch.

And there was nothing anyone could do when the knife held by the Oz tribute found Neal’s back, again and again. Emma had watched helplessly from the Tribute Castle as the love of her life was murdered.

She barely remembered what happened after that; it was a good thing she had been trained to put on an act for the cameras since before she could talk. Pomem was a blur outside the train window, realms flashing by as she recounted their last shared moments. And she cried—she cried a lot. Somehow, her parents kept her from dehydrating, but knowing that his lifeless body lay just a few cars away...well, that just got her going again.

When they got home, she retreated to the woods, where they’d spent so many days running, exploring, kissing—all that fun stuff. The one perk of being a victor was that she didn’t really have any other responsibilities, so as long as she came home before dark, people let her be.

At least, until she started to get sick.

And when she realized that certain monthly things hadn’t happened in a while.

The doctor confirmed her fears: she was pregnant. With Neal’s child. (And then spent the rest of the day sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.)

To save face, they said Graham was the father; it gave Olympus another one of the sappy love stories they ate up. But behind closed doors, he promised her he’d be there to help her every step of the way.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “Think of what you’re giving up.” He’d never be able to be seen so much as giving a friend a kiss on the cheek; actual romance was off the table. (As for Emma...well, she was pretty sure her shot at that died a bloody death in Neverland.)

He looked away, eyes cast down. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he started, “but after seeing what you’ve gone through, and so many others...I don’t think my heart is able to withstand that.”

She didn’t tell him that the only reason she was even still standing was because of the concrete wall that surrounded her broken heart, holding it together.

But he was amazing; he was already one of her best friends, and he ended up being the best partner—and best father—she could have had at her side. He abided all her weird pregnancy cravings, accompanied her to all her physician appointments, even withstood her crazy mood swings.

Mood swings that were often accompanied by sparks of electricity coming out from her hands, surges of power that blew out the light bulbs in their home, and her inadvertent burning of any book she tried to read.

What a way to discover she had magic, huh? It turned out being taught to be calm and collected her whole life had kept it from manifesting while she was in Neverland; but apparently it couldn’t withstand pregnancy hormones.

It took everything in her to keep that under wraps, too—placing it somewhere under that wall around her heart. Which mostly worked. (Not like she had an option; thankfully, knowing she was doing it to keep her child safe was pretty good motivation.)

When she finally went into labor, she had Graham on one side and her mother on the other. Somehow, the pain of birth still didn’t match the hurt of losing Neal, but it came damn close.

The lights overhead flickered on that last push (there was no holding it back), and then—then he was there: Henry. A squirming, screaming, pink thing, but when they put him in her arms, she wasn’t sure she’d seen anything more beautiful. God, she wished Neal could have been there to see him.

But she looked to one side and saw her parents (her dad having snuck in), and to the other and saw Graham. Even if Neal was missing, Henry was still surrounded by love—by people who were always going to look out for and protect him.

“I promise you, Henry,” she whispered a while later, when it was just the two of them. “I will do everything I can to give you your best chance in this crazy world.”

And that included anything in her power to keep him away from the Games.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Present day—Olympus

Jefferson was getting too old for this—and he wasn’t even that old. But these things had a way of weighing on a soul that not even the view from the window of his more-than-comfortable home could lift. (Neither could the glass of whiskey-laced tea he was nursing; at least the bottle was nearby.) His view of the border between Neverland and Olympus was soothing, with its varying types of trees serenely blending together, but also a constant reminder of what he did.

Another year passed, another games down. 18 more deaths on his hands. 18 more mothers having to bury their babies.

At least it’s not 19, a foreign positive voice somewhere deep inside told him as he took another sip of his drink, but that was hardly something to celebrate. It was only by the good graces of the President that both kids were able to win; part of him was worried about any repercussions, but the other part didn’t give a damn.

He was too good at his job. He was untouchable. And it drove him mad. (Which was probably why he was drinking alone and had a syringe of zolocybin at the ready; he knew better than to mix drugs and alcohol but again: he didn’t care.)

The next one is the last one, he reminded himself. It had almost become a mantra, having repeated it to himself countless times over the past few days since the end of the games. He thought of all the letters hidden here in his room, all the plans discussed, all the names on lists; as if on cue, his off-the-grid mobile phone rang, with the name Cora flashing on the screen. Their scheme would finally be put into motion over the next year. They finally had what they needed.

A symbol, something the people could rally behind: hope. Victory after impossible odds.

True love.

When Eloise came to him with her proposition to get both of her tributes out alive, he knew they finally had the last piece of the puzzle, the key to undoing everything.

His associates knew it, too, and the gears that had been slowly turning for years now kicked into high gear. The games may be over, but his job was just picking up.

There was still a long road ahead of them, though, and he needed to decompress. He tossed back the rest of his drink, put his phone on silent, and drew the blinds to his bedroom. Then he practically threw himself on his plush bed and grabbed the syringe; technically, zolocybin was a controlled substance, only to be used by medical professionals—but that didn’t mean it didn’t abound on the recreational drug market.

He popped the cap on it and methodically went over the process of injecting it into his arm, then settled back and waited for the effects to wash over him: first, sleep, then the kind of wild dreams that could only come from psychedelic hallucinogens. He could see why it was addictive, so he only allowed himself this one trip per year, to help him unwind.

Unconsciousness crept up in him quickly and he welcomed it. But even as he drifted off, one thing repeated in his mind:

The next one is the last one.

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