#i couldn’t even imagine the pain of losing a child | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loaksbitch · 1 year

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the long awaited part two is here! — imagine neteyam is now suffering from his own actions, everything turning to a hell for him, he’s even distant to his family… and you? you’ve decide this is enough and feel like you don’t belong here so you tell neteyam you’re leaving the clan soon and neteyam feels like salt is added to his open wound when he hears about that.

warning – neteyam cries 2.0 (i’m evil, i know) angst angst angst! mention of y/n’s adoptive mom, nete kinda slips from his own body and loses control, nete stills cause oc with pet names :(, vulgar language, did i mention its angst? yeah maybe i did but again we have ANGST!! 3.1k wc.

“i can’t trust you” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

part (one) – (three) — (four) of this series.

right after you left the love of your life, where you gave yourself to him, you couldn’t stop crying mess.

rage, confusion and pain blinding your eyes you didn’t care how the na’vi gave you glances every time you passed them without greetings given back.

you’re now in front of your mother’s shelter and swallow the lump on your throat not wanting her to see you like that. you push yourself inside and turn your face to the side so she won’t notice your puffy eyes.

“hi ma,” you greet her and her ears instantly perk up at your warm tone. “my sweet child, you cam– what’s wrong?” she knew you like no one did, you adoptive mother read you like a book.

when she finally asks what’s wrong you instantly breakdown in front of her, “mama.” you cry as the na’vi stumbles to you hurriedly, “what is it baby? what’s wrong?” she keeps wiping the tears that fall

this felt like the first time she found you lost in the woods, right after your biological mom abandoned you.

crying, scared and open.

“it hurts, make it stop ma, please make it stop.” your chest heaves up and down. your mother instantly knew something happened between you and neteyam, of course she’d know about the two of you.

“he…” you can’t even finish the sentence, “lied, he lied.” you struggled and your mother sighs

“oh my baby,” she pulls you for a hug and you hide your face into the crook of her neck crying again. no matter how she tighten her hold on your violently trembling body, she couldn’t stop the shattering feeling of your heart

you stood there hugged and vulnerable, seeking for comfort from your mother.

then there’s neteyam, who got to deal with the pain he created alone and secretly, he didn’t even get the chance to cry or comfort himself.

your words echoing in his drained mind, neteyam climbs back to his hammock. “i. hate. you.” those three words were enough to convince him you really do hate him. neteyam lied to you and you hated being lied, he knew everyone from your childhood lied to you

he knew it took you so much of sacrifice to give him a chance, he knew yet he destroyed you, he destroyed your heart. he can never forgive himself for that and he doesn’t want you to forgive him either.

neteyam chooses to suffer double than watch you break like that? he actually wishes you’d kill him right now but then again he deserves to live with this pain.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers as if you’re next to him and hearing him apologize. neteyam leans on the tree that’s helping the hammock stand in the middle of his room and slowly slides down to sit on the mat

“i’m so sorry, princess.” he knew you’ll never let him in again.

neteyam brings his legs to his chest and puts his arms on his knees before using them to lay his head. silent yet deep sobs left his lips as his chest tightened.

how was he supposed to live without you? without your skin against his? without your scent in him, without your smile to start his day… most importantly, without your love.

and now that neteyam have came to realize that, the perfect little solider has finally became defeated.

“i’m sorry.” he kept apologizing as he drifted to sleep, his beautiful face stained with tears.

and now five days passed, neteyam became distant with his family. no more breakfast eating with them, no more tuk and him moment, no more staying up all night with lo’ak and kiri to cause trouble.

no more in love with everything and colorful neteyam.

and his mother didn’t fail to notice him, notice how his behavior has changed. “something’s wrong with our son, ma jake, there’s something so wrong.” jake hums thinking neteyam is just getting more and more stronger and only practicing

“he’s just focusing on himself and training my love, you don’t have to worry.” jake says as he sharpens his weapons for the next war party

“no, you don’t understand” neytiri places her hand on jakes shoulder worriedly as their son kept himself inside his hammock, not wanting to interact with anyone of them. “he barely eats and drinks, barely plays with tuk she even started to ask for him.”

neytiri continued, “all he does is spend time on training, overworks himself and sneaks inside at midnight thinking i wouldn’t notice.”

jake frowns, this was new.

“neteyam started sneaking?” jake’s surprised tone makes netyiri sigh. he’s not taking things serious. “ma jake.” she warns when he tries to joke with a “neteyam’s finally being a spoiled brat huh?”

“okay okay, sorry but i’ll talk to him” jake cups his mates face and smiles, “maybe he’s having a hard time with being the future leader of the clan,” jake sighs “or maybe his new mate? he’s trying build some muscle, baby, don’t overthink it.”

neytiri only closes her eyes as they’re both sat in their hammock. “alright.” she voiced out.

right when jake was about to place a kiss on his wife’s lips, neteyam pulls the hanging fabric to the slide and walked straight to the front door. both his parents flinch at his sudden appearance.

“where you going, son?” both of them ask in unison making neteyam halt his steps.

“training and hunting.” he doesn’t turn to face them and neytiri insists. “you’ve been going out too much lately, nete’ don’t you think you need a break?”

“i’m fine mother.” with that being said, neteyam leaves the hammock while jake comforts his wife whose eyes tear up in worry.

neteyam didn’t fail to notice how his mother sounded worried and he hated that he caused that, but he doesn’t want them to figure out what’s wrong. he can’t risk your safety if they find out without you two communicating.

what if they hurt you? what will he do?

“look who’s finally out,” familiar voice sips to neteyam’s ears and neteyam closes his eyes, can they not just leave him alone? no, not really. lo’ak chuckles as he swings down the branch he was hanging on and jumps next to his brother

“where’re you going big bro?” lo’ak asks but gets ignored, “hey, you know i’m talking to you…”

“leave him skxawng, he’s in his emo arc.” kiri lets a sarcastic laugh out making the heartbroken man annoyed. “yeah? he’s seriously ignoring his one and only siblings” lo’ak keeps pushing his older brother

“can you guys leave? i want to be alone if you can’t see.” neteyam hisses under his breath but it falls to deaf ears. “damn bro, look at those growing muscles.” lo’ak turns to his sister and chuckles

“must be for his future mate, äyea.”

now lo’ak did a little bit of a mistake here, neteyam was now breathing through his nose, jaw clenched as he got his brother pinned to one of the trees. “i fucking told you to leave me alone, didn’t i? and don’t even dare to bring that name up here, again.”

lo’ak’s eyes are widened when his brother has him pinned to the tree, something dangerous flashes in his amber eyes and lo’ak lets a soft gasp out before being his hands up on air as a surrender.

“can you two stop? you guys are so immature.” kiri huffs out but neteyam only glares at his brother, “neteyam!” she calls out and once neteyam gains himself back, his eyes widens at the state. “shit, sorry.” his ears flatten, “i’m sorry lo’ak.”

both siblings take a glance at each other and lo’ak awkwardly chuckles. “it’s all good bro, you okay?” neteyam only nods before pushing himself out far away from everyone.

everywhere he goes, he kept hurting people and it’s destroying him.

once he was far enough from everyone he couldn’t help but allow himself to walk to the familiar place he finds comfort. the first place he saw you and got swept with love right away.

meanwhile neteyam was walking there you’ve actually managed to leave your hammock after days, well not managed but your mother was the one who threw you out to take some fresh air and communicate with eywa for a while

you couldn’t help but let you feet wander and take you to one of the places that are dear to you in pandora and your village. it was the shores that had glowing fish. the first time you met neteyam and you got your whole body woken up with butterflies.

you’re squat and twirling your hand in the edge of the ocean when you softly giggle as the glowing fish touches your hand with its soft fins. but that giggle didn’t live long when instant memories flood your mind.

“this one is honestly pretty.” you watch the glowing fish circle your feet that’s dipped in the ocean with your man next to you and you hear him hum agreeing but his eyes were only on you

“it really is.” he murmurs and when you notice it, you can’t help but realize your cheeks are heated up.

that was when you two shared your first kiss, of course it was a shy moment but on eywa you swore how good neteyam was, he was basically eating your face. “nete,” you’d sigh to his mouth when he leans and pressed his forehead against yours.

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” he would calm you by pulling you close to him as you’re both hanging your legs in the ocean. he would always place kisses on your skin every time you panic, thinking you’re doing something wrong

you missed that moment, you miss him but you can’t let those feelings win over and forget what he did.

you pull your hands out from the water, pushing those memories away and adjust your balance while you’re still squat and put your chin on your knees. “i miss him,” you speak and watch the fish wiggle around and smile, “you miss him too?” you ask it as if it would reply

you didn’t notice the subtle movement that’s made behind you in the woods as you talk to the animal you playfully adopted as your child with neteyam

neteyam in other hand freezes at his spot when he notice your familiar figure by the edge of the ocean. you’re silent before you let a soft giggle out and neteyam breathes out a laugh as he felt his eyes whelm

he really missed that sound of yours.

“i miss him,” your words catch his ears and his tail swings side to side like a dog. “you miss him too?” you ask as if you’re talking to someone and neteyam catches the fish you two jokingly adopted wiggling at your touch

his heart swells up with emotions.

you still haven’t noticed your used to be man watching you from the woods and sigh before deciding it’s time to leave, you need to distract yourself before you soon start to cry again

once you’re up on your feet, you turn around and your eyes catch the shadow of the tall figure with its tail moving. you let a loud scream out, startled and stumble on your feet only to trip and fall to the ocean.

“fuck!” neteyam curses when your eyes catch his and you’re instantly falling to the water.

“no, no, no!” neteyam was quick to run to you, you suddenly feel someone pull you and snoop you to their arms around your body before stomping out of the water to get you out of there

you’re confused and want to know who it is until a familiar scent helps you recognize who that was, you wanted to call his name out so badly but you just kept yourself silent until he got you to the sand.

once neteyam places you on your feet, you’re bombed with question about safety.

“did you get hurt? want me to carry you? baby, talk to me!” you don’t miss the pet name and don’t know know which to answer. “can you shut up?” you ask and he instantly obeys, “mhm.”

“i’m okay, thanks.” you’re curious to know what he was doing here.

“what’re you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” he questiones back and your stomach drops. ‘because i miss you?’ you wanted to say but chose to stay silent and start to leave when neteyam suddenly grabs your hand. you’re stood there for a moment before you’re slowly turning to give him a deadly glare.

“what did i say about touching me?”

you’re so dominant it drives him insane, but neteyam heard you say you’re missing him and he has now some hope to relay that you still love him. “can we talk?” his voice is almost silent when he says that

“there’s nothing to talk about.” you dryly reply

neteyam nods and adjust the bow on him he brought for hunting, letting go of your wrist and you instantly miss the warmth but doesn’t show it. “i want to explain that–“

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me like you owe me something neteyam, it’s over for us.” you watch him battle himself from breaking down and swallows hard. you feel the atmosphere turn awkward.

“i heard you, y/n” you glance away from him feeling caught at stealing something. “you said you miss me.” his freckles are glowing and it makes you want to run your fingers on his skin where they exactly are.

“i do miss you” you’re honest and didn’t miss his little whimper when you say that. “but that doesn’t mean i’m not working on to get rid of those feelings.” your words hurt like a bullet being stuck in his chest and neteyam knew that feeling.

“you can’t say that,” he says, ears flattened and eyes hazed with hurt. “i can’t?” you sarcastically remark and scoff before trying to leave. “princes– y/n.” as much as him correctly himself from calling you his princess hurts you, again you manage to cover it up

neteyam feels his heart crack for the thousand times when you flinch away from his touch. “can you stop doing that?”you hiss and he knows you’re trying to protect yourself so bad, neteyam knows this is not you but the stupid shield you try to cover yourself with

“drop the act, y/n stop pushing me away.”

“you’ve a mate and i can’t do that to your future love so don’t touch me.” you’re using his actions against him to protect yourself. neteyam is annoyed now, he was to rip something apart or kill someone.

“look, i know i fucked up but that doesn’t mean…”

“yeah, it doesn’t mean anything, nothing matters.” you say and shut your eyes before taking a deep breath. his next words makes your brain rick in anger.

“can’t you just trust me?!” he dared to raise his voice at you. but in fact, neteyam was only raising his voice up to cover the quivering sound of his voice and stopping himself from crying in front of you

you take a step right to him and click your tongue.

“trust you?” you’re forcefully chuckling now. “i trusted you, neteyam, i trusted you so much but where did that lead me?” you’re poking his chest with your index and neteyam closes his eye before opening them and looking at you

you see something in him shift and realize he’s trying to make a progress.

“i can’t trust you…” you end up whispering the last part. “even if i want to, i just can’t.” you lean to him, dropping you forehead right to his chest and neteyam holds his breath. “i can’t, neteyam. i really can’t.”

as if he didn’t already hate himself more than this, he wishes he would just die at this point. you feel his hands grip your arms and pull you away from him a little far. one hand cups your cheek and he feels you lean to him for warmth.

there, right there was his y/n he knows.

“please,” he’s now begging. “let me make it right.”

you only lean to him to take his warmth one last time before opening your eyes and sighing. “nete’” you watch his breath hitch. “call me that again, please call me that again.”

“nete, i’m leaving.”

neteyam’s body freezes against you, “what?” is the only word he was able to let out. “what do you mean you’re leaving.” it wasn’t even a question, “me and my mom have decided and knows this place isn’t for us.”

you’ve been trying to let him know but you couldn’t until now and you take this opportunity to be close to him for the last time. “i don’t fit here, i’ve to leave.”

“what a..abo…about me?” he was now hyperventilating when he realize why you’ve accepted his touch on your body right now. “you’ve her, you’ve äyea.”

“don’t say that! please don’t say that– i’ve no one except you.” you’re trying to control the tears but neteyam was only making it hard. “neteyam.” your voice is quivering and neteyam shakes his head in denial

“no, don’t you care about me? no! NO!” he’s now holding your arms tight. “neteyam, please don’t make this hard.” you beg as tears start to roll down your pretty skin. “i have to leave!” you yell and neteyam instantly lets you go

he knew he deserved pain but not this one, neteyam didn’t want this he’ll never want this.

“when?” he’s now staring at you numbly. “huh?” you ask confused. “when’re you leaving?” you gulp and think before speaking.

“after your mating ritual, i’ll leave that night after yours and hers…” you stop when he shuts his eyes and blocks your words out. “i’ve to go, i can’t live like this! i don’t want to get hurt anymore.”

neteyam was nodding, stepping back from you. you feel guilty for just dropping it at him like that.

“so you’re saying if i haven’t caught you here i would never know and you would leave me?”

“i’m not leaving you, neteyam, you have äyea.” your words makes him snap.

“I DON’T WANT ÄYEA?!”

“don’t you dare yell at me for protecting myself.” you say and neteyam sniffs angrily. “you know what, i shouldn’t have told to you anything.” you suddenly push past him and walk fast.

neteyam clenches his jaw in anger and pain, no it won’t end like this. he won’t easily let you go like that, never.

enough is enough and nothing will easily end here.

guys it’s 3.1k and i had to stop there yeah? i feel like i might make part 3 and 4 but fr tho should i make it happy ending or sad ending? or maybe alternative ending— i love each and everyone of you sm! mwah!

taglist 𖤘 @eywas-heir @evanpetersluver @ayathehater @redbloond @brooklynscherry-z @spideyluves @littlethingsinlife @arminsgfloll @thesheelfsworld @traveleraroundsworld @giftfromthemoon @emarold @ilovehotdilfsz @kristalposts @raventommy @scryarchives @senpaitanakiuwu @willoswildworld @voniikg @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @dearmikewheeler @mcqsx @eitaababe @hafutoru @hestiasalvtore @trhaenyra @23victoria @littlerizzler @ripneteyam @scarletrosesposts @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @omgily (others will be tags if i make part 3)

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romeavecryst · 3 months

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Thinking about prohero!bakugo as your husband while in a hard labor.

Femblk!reader in mind!! Not proofread, mentions of childbirth.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

An at home water birth she’s been sitting in the tub for 2 hours her contractions getting worse as she held on to the sides of the tub. Nobody has been able to get ahold of her husband. She was terrified that she was about to deliver her first child by herself . She was in so much pain, she couldn’t do it by herself . Not that she was by herself, she had her parents and his with her right now, and het best friend ochaco. They were with her but he wasn’t.

He promised, by not taking time off of work he would be there in a heartbeat as soon as she went into labor with their son.

“I cant do it, mama I cant do it.”She sobbed, her hand holding her mothers as she pushed her curls back.

“I know baby you’re so close, your baby Boys gonna be here soon.” Her mother spoke kissing the side of her head.

She was right but she could tell she was trying to distract her for the fact her husband wasn’t here with her.

It felt as if forever had passed, the sound of the front door opening in a hurry and the sight of her husband. He was beat up a bit sweaty, “I’m sorry, oh baby, I’m sorry.” He spoke taking his heavy gear off real fast, walking over to her quickly.

His hands grabbed her face as she let out another sob, “I didn’t think you were gonna be here..”

His face softened as his brows frowned “I know love, I’m right here I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m so fucking sorry.” He apologized profusely, his lips meeting yours.

She was finally fully dilated, but even after multiple painful pushes she couldn’t. She felt as if all her strength was gone, not to mention she has started bleeding. “I cant do it, suki— I cant.” She cried her hands squeezing his wrist as he held her face.

“Yes you can, common baby, im right here.” He spoke.

He was with her. That’s all that truly mattered, he wouldn’t ever leave her alone. One more that’s all she had in her, so she did.

Her baby wasn’t even crowning yet. The feeling of her body losing strength scared katsuki as her grip on his wrist lessened. “Hey! Hey common baby, you’ve got this.” He spoke picking up her face, her melanin features covered in sweat and tears.

She shook her head weakly. He stood up quickly kicking off his boots, taking his phone and ear piece out of his pockets. He moved quickly to behind her, stepping into the tub submerging himself in the water. His hands grabed her softly her back falling against his chest, the nurse helping position.

Katsuki wrapped his arms around her right above her engorged belly that that held the life they created together. He held her so securely, he could care less of what bodily fluids that were in the water. All he cared about was her. He couldn’t bare the pain she was in it killed him how she called out his name, saying she couldn’t do it. He couldn’t imagine the pain she was in. He did this to her.

“Mr. Bakugo I need you to help her she has to continue to push or your baby could get stuck.” The nurse spoke.

He nodded his hand resting on her sweaty forehead “you got this baby, just a bit more mama.” He whispered. He could feel her nod.

In this moment so many things ran through his mind, how people always doubted his love for her. How could they, he was right there with her always even during school. ‘Do you love her.’ He was asked by the media constantly.

Yes, yes he loved her, with ever atom and cell in his body, and a million times over. She was his Sun, the brightness that he looked forward to, and his Sun was bleeding and screaming in pain and all he could do was hold her. She did nothing buts show him her love and friendship she made him smile more in the past 5 years they’ve been together, than he ever did before that. She was having his baby, he loved her, and he would soon share his heart with another, their son. But now all he could do was hold her.

But to her that was more that enough, his encouraging words. That’s all she needed, “I can see his head! Common one more big push!” The nurse said.

One more.

One more, there he was. There was no crying, and she couldn’t open her eyes but a few firm past on the back there they were, your sons high pitched cry’s. Her and Katsuki let out a heavy sigh of relief hers being more of a sob.

The nurse places the slimey baby on her chest. But it soon want just Her and the baby crying, the shutters of katsukis body she could feel them as he cried into her shoulder.

“You did it. Fuck baby you did it.” He cried softly holding her and the baby.

This was his new world now.

˖ ࣪⊹

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kaeddehara · 2 years

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saying “you’re mine” <3

[ albedo + xiao + childe + diluc ]

[ nsfw, mdni, part two w/heizou + cyno maybe ?? ]

desperate bedo :((, he’s just stressed and needs you to make him feel better <33

albedo was in such a rut. being so backed up with work from the knights and his own research. he’d tire himself out day and night in his lab. forgetting to take care of himself and look a complete mess. hair a mess eyes underlined with dark circles that looked almost painful to have. once he finally found himself at his shared home with you, his mind was set on one time entirely. seeing you of course! coming inside and seeing you relaxed by yourself made for a perfect moment.

“a-albedo slow down—“

you begged him to give any sort of explanation as he continued going at your neck and groping your body.

“working so hard haven’t you?”

albedo continued sucking dark markings into your next as he began to push you down to get on top of you. finally seeing his sleep deprived eyes and messy hair (honestly a turn on), you knew what albedo wanted and complied. pushing his lips against yours as a means to keep you both occupied while he fumbled with his belt. giving you little to no time to take a breather and leaving you messy as well.

“you’re mine…”

slipped from his lips sandwiched between a kiss. being in the midst of everything, it turned you on even more and you pulled him closer to your face just wanting to taste him more.

full nelson xiao?? not sure what came over me but yes let’s go for it, possessive xiao as usual, pussy drunk xiao <33

he was not in the mood for anything else other than you. seeing you at his will practically took over his mind and he couldn’t help but take the chance to pounce at you.

firstly it started slowly; just you sitting on his lap and embracing each other gently while to sun set. after a while, xiao couldn’t hold himself back. your warmth, it was intoxicating. messily making out as he slid his hands underneath your shirt and felt your sweet body up. soon enough, you felt your back on his chest and his hot breath heaving over your neck. legs being spread carefully as he pushed your clothes to the side and got to work.

“that’s it, that’s it! you’re mine…”

xiao growled against your neck and his hips continued to snap up to yours at a mind numbing pace. your poor mind turned to mush by the incomprehensible speed xiao was going at. only his words and the feeling of his hands on your waist holding you up were what kept you from losing it all.

imagine him all sweaty and bloody then fucking you on the floor, kinda gross kinda hot yk, teasing childe ofc

childe and you would frequently spar each other. nothing too dangerous as neither of you ever released full power on each other, but still, it was a good way to build up stamina and keep fit. typically, you both would go rounds and relax after along each other. however, seeing you so into the pure rush the feeling of battle gave you, it drove lust to overtake his weakened mind.

“you know i can’t hold back when you look at me like that”

your soft whines and cries drove him crazy. that, and how pretty you looked drooling over him as he held your legs up

“you’re mine”

he laughs against your face, watching for your reaction. you can’t seem to do anything but pant out and beg for more. childe almost frowns at this before realizing what he can do now that he has you dumb and at his will.

“come on say it!”

he pushes into you a little more till he’s basically bottomed out making you choke at the sudden feeling. the feeling of his toned hips pounding into your soft flesh, turning it a bright pink.

“i-i’m yours!”

childe chuckles at what a pathetic mess you’d become. such a strong fighter as yourself succumbed to a complete mess on the floor.

“you are mine..”

he smiles into your skin as he continues to make you his <3

possessive and jealous diluc, imagine this with slight bondage???, reader just wants to rile him up <3

diluc got off of a long shift at angel share when a couple of drunk patrons asked to take you home to which to repeatedly said no and continued away to diluc who was upset at them and brought you over to teach you a lesson

it was a usual evening for diluc in the tavern. watching everyone enjoy their company and drinks with each other as more drunk patrons asked for another round. while it was never something diluc would say he enjoyed to see out loud, he did appreciate it. along with the sight of you present, it made the evening all the more enjoyable.

although when he started to see a few of those patrons get a little too close and a little too talkative with you, he knew he had to take this into his hands in his after hours.

watching as they stumbled out and the tavern emptied itself as he waited for you sitting all alone, a little intoxicated yourself. giving him a soft smile, he looked at you with a serious gaze. getting up, already weak in the knees, diluc pushed you against the table.

“i don’t appreciate you showing up and putting on a show like that”

he whispered in your ear leant down over your shoulder. quickly after that, this lead to you being bent over a tavern table and getting fucked like a good slut face down ass up. dilucs hips pounding into the soft flesh of your ass as he bent over you, letting his hips do all the work.

“you’re all mine…hah..”

he panted out, reaching his high so soon the feeling in his stomach building up so quickly. your sinful sounds ringing off the tavern walls reminded him how much he loved having you in his life. even though you wanted to be a brat, he still found a way to make you his <3

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multi-fandom-imagine · 11 months

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« You Belong || Prince Sidon ||

A/n: here is the fic idea I was talking about, but I will give it a more happier ending! Though I’m not quite sure how I feel about this one.

And thank you anon for this lovely idea

Warnings: Blood, child birth/mentions of child birth.

To say Sidon wasn’t over protective of you would be an understatement. The man was constantly by your side and if he wasn’t he had no begged is sister and to Yona to watch over you.

He didn’t trust anyone else near you, how could he? He wasn’t deaf to the whispers of the people, how some would often say he wasn’t the father. How could he be?

You were the first Hylian to become pregnant by a Zora and honestly he was a bit sick of watching you get poked and prodded and then he revived the news of his close friend and Zelda vanishing. He couldn’t imagine what his sister was going through, didn’t want to imagine if you left his life.

It was even more troubling when the slug started to appear in the Domain, he didn’t want you anywhere near that and while he hated to leave you alone he knew what he had to do.

“Sidon, please be careful.”

Stepping close to you, he placed his hand on your stomach rubbing the bump gently. “I’m always careful haha!” Doing his best to stay positive he cupped your cheek then stepped back. “Yona will be watching over you.”

Watching him closely, you rubbed your stomach doing your best to push the pain aside as he vanished into the waterfall.

Hearing your name being called, your turned spotting Yona, a look of concern on her face as she quickly made her way towards you. “Why didn’t you tell him.”

“He has to much to worry about….dealing with whatever is causing the slug now I think I’m going to just lay.” Gritting your teeth you stumbled forward clutching your stomach, nearly falling to your knees you were pulled into Yona’s embrace.

“How long have you’ve been holding back these contractions?” The woman’s voice was full of panic as she called over one of the Hylian medics that were watching over you.

“Only a few hours?” You let out a weak laugh, your eyes closing for a moment feeling a rush of pain wash over you, it felt like you were being torn apart from the inside.

Shaking her head, Yona did her best to explain the situation but she was more concerned with you. Your skin tone was starting to lose its natural color and the metallic scent of the blood was making her sick, she knew she had to do something but she knew nothing about humans. “You’re both going to be fine, I promise. I’ll keep them safe Sidon.”

The birth was grueling, you could feel the blood but that’s the only thing you felt. You tried to listen to the Hylian woman telling you when to push. You tried to keep your gaze focus on Yona but it at felt to much, it hurt to much.

A broken cry tore from your lips as you fell back on the bed. “I can’t do this! I can’t.”

Grasping your hand on hers, Yona did her best to give you a smile. “You can do this! You will do this! And you will do this. You and Sidon are going to be wonderful parents…you must push.”

Taking in a deep breath and taking her words to heart you continued to push until you heart the cry of a small infant fill the small room.

A weak smile formed on your face though your eyes started to slide closed. Yona panicking as she rushed to your side still holding the crying infant. “No..no you must wake up.” Calling out your name she placed the infant by your side hoping, praying for a reaction.

And nothing, no smile, no in take of breaths. You were quiet and still, like everyone in the room though it was the Hylian that watched over you that broke the silence.

“What do we do?”

Blinking away a few tears, Yona picked up the infant as she hugged the little girl to her chest. “Clean her, we can not let Sidon see her like this, I will not let him see her like this.”

•

Waking up to nothing but an ocean of blue was an odd feeling, you really didn’t know what to expect. You also didn’t expect to see a woman that looked so much like your love.

“Mipha? You’re Sidon’s sister?”

“I am…I never expected my brother to follow in my footsteps for falling for a Hylian though.” Letting out a soft laugh you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her though your heart dropped when you realized what she meant.

“Am I dead.”

“Not quiet….I couldn’t just sit by.” Stepping close to you, Mipha placed a gentle hand on your cheek as she gave you a soft smile. “Thank you for loving my brother.”

And with that you were engulfed in a blue light, the former Princess fading form your vision as you gasped for air.

•

“I do not.” Sidon frowned looking at the squirming infant in his hands. She was so small, she looked so much like you. He could see some features of himself, the eyes, little fangs poking from her gums whenever she would let out her cry’s, webbed fingers and toes. He could even see a red hue to her skin and while he took her appearance in he tried to wrap his head around what Yona told me.

‘Gone…how could you be gone?’

“I want to see her.”

“Sidon..I don’t think!”

“You will not deny me this.” Nothing mattered to him right now, he needed to see you, had to see you.

Quietly, Yona gave the King a nod as she lead to him to where they were keeping you. Silence filled the room as he knelt down beside you. He tried to blink away the tears but seeing you, he knew he couldn’t hold back.

It felt like nothing when he lost his sister, he felt like he had just lost his soulmate. The infant letting out little cry’s as he pressed his head against yours. “I’m sorry my bro ex. I should have stayed by your side. I should have.”

Yona stepped back, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched the scene unfold. Her heart clenching tightly in her chest. Seeing someone so strong, someone that always had a smile on his face, it made her sick. Just as she was about to give him some space, she winced from the bright blue light engulfing the room followed by a shark intake of your breath.

Tears were streaming down your face but you were alive, and Sidon looked so happy. The man tugging you close to his chest careful not to hurt the infant that was laying next to you.

“You’re alive…h-how.”

Giving him a weak smile you placed your hand against his cheek. Leaning into your warmth, Sidon closed his eyes as he did his best to to listen to how you recovered.

“I’m happy I’ve got to meet her, at least once.”

Shifting his body so you and his child were in his arms, Sidon placed a small kiss on top of your forehead. “I am too.”

He always knew his sister was special and he couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was watching over everyone.

#drabbles #drabble #prince sidon #king sidon #sidon x reader #Sidon x you #Sidon x y/n #prince sidon x reader #Prince Sidon x you #king Sidon x you #king Sidon x reader #legend of Zelda #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #legend of Zelda x you

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3d-wifey · 5 months

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And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 12

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.4k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn Chapter Summary: There's a certain kind of pain in reading or watching something from the perspective of a character who doesn't know about the tragedy ahead of them. It's like watching a scary movie and going, "No, don't go to sleep! He's behind the door!" Like in The Song of Achilles, we all know how the original story ends. We know how the actual prophecy plays out. We know that the moment Patroclus's heart stops, Hector and Achilles fates are set in stone. You wince whenever Achilles says he has no reason to kill Hector because "What has Hector done to me?" You want to tell him that Hector will do the unforgivable to him. You want to tell Patroclus not to go on the field. Tell Achilles to get his damned head out of his ass as he disguises Patroclus as himself because he is at risk of losing something far more important than his pride. You hold your breath as Patroclus is speared in the back and as Achilles realizes the consequences of his actions. You knew it was coming, and yet, you still read the story because a part of you hoped. You hoped for the hopeless. All this to say that knowing and still having hope regardless is crueler than complete ignorance. A/N: I imagined your stylist as Anne Hathaway in Alice in Wonderland.

Past (xiii) - You [22 & 23] - THE CAPITOL

If you were from any other district, maybe it would have surprised you how attached Rue is to you. But the sense of community in Eleven breeds this need for kinship. You’re social creatures; you’re not meant to be on your own. Certainly not in a place like the Capitol. It’s how you end up hugging your knees to your chest, an unnamed ocean projected on your wall as you try to get lost in the tides the night before the tributes will be marched into the arena.

No one talks about this part, or maybe they just don’t want to think about it. The part where being forced back into the room you slept in during your own Games eats at you—that anxiety that courses through your veins and leaves your body thrumming. Because no matter what you tell yourself, your body isn’t entirely convinced that you won’t be the one entering the arena tomorrow. You close your eyes and suddenly you’re fifteen again, gripping the sheets so hard you could tear holes in them as you fight the vomit threatening to ride the wave of acid reflux.

Sleeping beside Finnick helped. He reminded you that you weren’t fifteen and alone and wishing you’d die in your sleep so you wouldn’t be slaughtered live. And now? Well, at least there’ll always be the ocean.

There’s a knock on your door, so tentative that you would have missed it if you weren’t already so keyed up.

You pause the projection of the ocean, assuming the sound woke someone up. You get up and go to open it, only to see Rue. Suddenly you’re shamefaced and embarrassed, like you’ve been caught doing something pathetic, even though it’s doubtful she even knows what the sound was, let alone the significance of you listening to it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Was I being too loud?”

“No.” She shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot. “Um, I couldn’t sleep. And I just—I saw that your light was on and thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either?”

That may be true, but you don’t think it’s the only reason. Rue is the oldest of six and they all live in Shacktown. With all those people in one house, you’re sure Rue’s never slept alone a day in her life. It makes you wonder how she managed these past few days.

You’re an only child; your dad was killed before your parents could have any more, so you can’t say for certain that you understand what she feels. Yet, you reminisce on the fact that you’ve never really gone through a year of mentoring without Finnick being within arm’s reach.

She stares up at you with those big, pleading puppy-dog eyes, and you twist your mouth to the side.

“C’mon.” You move so you aren’t blocking the entrance anymore and you nod your head towards your room. “How ‘bout you sleep in here with me tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but we might as well stay up together.”

You know you’ve made the right choice when she grins big, rushes in, and takes a running start to jump on your bed. You shake your head fondly as she scurries to get under the blanket, lying down with them pulled under her arms and getting comfortable like she belongs there. The door slides shut behind you and you twist the dimmer until the only light comes from the projector. You settle into your bed beside Rue and you can’t help but snort at how she keeps smiling at you.

“So…What were you watching?”

“Uh.” You pick the remote up to unmute the device and the sound of crashing ocean waves fills any remaining silence. “The ocean.”

She looks over, seemingly transfixed by the drag and pull of the water. The nearest ocean to Eleven is the one that rests just outside of the towering fence and only serves as a deterrent for escaping. This very well may be her first time seeing one outside of a textbook. “Why?”

“Well, I,” you let out a weighted breath, "I thought it would make me feel better. Help me sleep.”

“Oh.” Says Rue and then she looks at you. “Why?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Um. I guess the ocean reminds me of my friend and—I don’t know. It’s just easier to sleep with him around."

“Is he your crush?” Crush? Such an innocent question feels surprisingly weighted considering your current relationship with Finnick. Or lack thereof. Is it a crush now that it’s unrequited?

“I love him.” You tell the wall and it’s the sad truth. You still do. You wouldn’t be so hung up if you didn’t.

"Whoa. You like like him.” Like like. It’s been years since you heard that. It brings to mind how young she is. It’s not as if you needed another reminder. “It’s okay, I won’t tell. I like someone too.”

“Oh? And what’s his name?” You smile. You both flip over to face each other. You picture little you and little Sage, shyly holding hands during downtime, and find yourself hoping this boy liked Rue back.

“You can’t tell anyone.” She narrows her eyes and makes you swear, which you do with a pinky promise. “Coriander.” Her voice goes all quiet and timid as she hides her face and you wonder if you’ve ever seen anything cuter.

“Ah, I think I might know him.” She looks at you with wide eyes as you tease her, peering out from between her fingers.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She denies it as you tap a finger on your chin and pretend to think about it.

“No, no. I think I do. He’s got pink hair, no teeth, and walks with a waddle, right?”

“No!” She giggles and you can’t help but giggle along with her. You take a moment.

“Finnick. The boy I like.” You provide when she looks confused. “His name is Finnick.”

“Oh! Oh! Is he that boy from Four? The victor?” It’s hardly shocking that she recognizes him. He’s one of ‘the greats’. You nod and she gasps like that’s the juiciest piece of gossip she’s ever heard.

“He’s pretty.” She whispers.

“He is.” You laugh.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you say without thought or contempt. Finnick’s indeed been nothing but kind to you since you’ve met him, current behavior not included. You find that even when you’re mad at him, you can’t actually disparage him. And you don’t want to lie to Rue. “He made me this." You lift your wrist and show her your bracelet. You’ve been wearing it around your ankle while you’re out in public, but when you’re on your own, it goes back to its rightful place.

“Cori made something for me too.”

She pulls her necklace up for you to see. It’s woven grass attached to a wooden charm shaped like a flower—you squint—or maybe a star? Definitely the handiwork of a child. Adorable. It reminds you of Cane.

“Your token?”

“Yep. He gave it to me when everyone came to see me off after I was reaped. He ran all the way home and back to give it to me. He almost didn’t get back in time, but I waited for him. I knew he’d come, and that’s why it’s good luck.”

“Makes sense.” You nod and she nods with you, like she’s happy that you get her logic. “He must like you a lot to go through all that.”

“Yeah. He’s sweet.” She smiles, fidgeting with the charm.

“I bet he is.” You push some of her curls out of her face. Just two doomed girls talking about their equally doomed crushes.

It’s silent for a moment; ocean noises make your eyes feel heavier with the pull of each tide. You watch as the shadows cast from the projector paint the ceiling in a series of swirling blues. You think you can see Finnick’s favorite color hidden amongst the other shades.

“Were you scared? When you went into the arena?” Rue asks and you still can’t find it in yourself to lie to her.

“Terrified.”

“Really? You’re so brave though?” She sounds so genuinely confused that you have to hold back your laughter. You don’t want her to think you're making fun of her. You appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s more than you have in yourself.

“I think…being brave means doing something even if you are terrified.” You look away from the ceiling to make eye contact. “It’s okay to be scared, Rue. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She mumbles like she doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you’re incredibly brave.” You know she regularly went foraging for food for her siblings, and she took on more hours than what was required of her. Who knows how many times she’s entered her name for Tesserae?

And she’s still so young.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely.” You laugh at her skepticism. You’ve laughed more with Rue in the short time you’ve had with her than in the last two years combined. Sadly, there hasn’t been much of a reason for you to. Realizing that this is the last night you two will laugh together is devastating. “I was fifteen and I felt like I was on the edge of breaking down the entire time. How are you so calm?” She’s only twelve years old—not even a teenager. If you were in her shoes, you’d have dehydrated yourself from how much you were crying.

“I am scared, but…" She drags out the ‘uh’, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t feel real.”

“Hmm. I get that.” You don’t tell her that it won’t start feeling real until she either wins or dies. It’ll only make her feel worse. She closes her eyes and you two are quiet for a time—so long that you think she’s fallen asleep.

Her voice is small when she asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Of course.” You hold your right one out for her to take, and her little fingers lace with yours. Her palms are callused too. Not as much as yours. No, she’ll never have enough time to catch up to yours.

Rue moves closer to you and you wrap your left arm around her. You feel her say your name more than you hear it and you hum in response. “Thank you.”

You pull her closer to your chest, your linked hands resting between you. “Of course, sweetheart.” You say this into the crown of her head, wishing that you could have done more for her and Thresh—wishing you weren’t so helpless.

But you can do this. You can give her this last comfort, this last embrace from home. You hold her tight as you both fall asleep and you only let her go when they come to take her away in the morning.

You do not cry.

You miss him, you decide one day. You thought you hated him after you got through your self-pity, but the words "hate" and "Finnick" are too oxymoronic to ever stay together for long. You were so angry at yourself, angry at the world, but you sat with that anger long enough to know what it truly was. Grief. You miss him the way you'd miss a limb. You're so used to having it that you only remember it's gone when you notice the space it used to occupy and feel the phantom aches of what it used to be—what you used to have and took for granted.

Chaff has described in detail the pain of losing his hand. But, he said, nothing hurts worse than remembering it’s not there.

You've never taken Morphling and you don't know anyone personally who's gotten hooked on it, but you imagine this is what withdrawal feels like. You haven't seen him since before he sent that letter, and it feels like he's actively avoiding you. You said years ago, after Annie's Games, that you could handle just being his friend if he decided he didn’t want you anymore. But he never gave you the chance.

That’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. You know when you’re not wanted around, you can take a hint.

Maybe it's for the best. There’s no telling what you would do if you ran into him again. Something pathetic, probably, like begging him to take you back. There's a specific moment when you really feel your loss. A few days into the 74th Hunger Games. Chaff is finalizing the transaction with the money Eleven gathered to send bread for Rue and Thresh, so you’re on your own.

“Your girl is something else.” You tell Haymitch from where you stand beside him, arms crossed, as you split your attention between him and the Games.

He cocks his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, then returns to watching Katniss and Rue rehearse their strategy. “I can say the same to you.” You hadn’t expected Rue to team up with anyone, but you can’t say you are surprised that it’s Katniss. The girl did volunteer for her little sister, after all. Primrose, was it? But you’re concerned that your little speech about being brave by doing things that terrify you may have swayed her to come out of hiding and help Katniss.

You can’t take full credit, though. Rue—well, she’s far too kind for her own good.

You look him over, a glass of something alcoholic in one hand while the other remains buried in his pocket. Honestly, you’ve never seen him this invested in the Games before, but you could hazard a guess why. You weren’t just blowing smoke up his ass about Katniss. She’s honestly got a pretty good shot of winning, if not making it to the top five. She’s already a fan favorite, along with Rue, Peeta, Glimmer, and Cato. She’s exceeded your expectations, along with Haymitch’s. No wonder he’s been networking his ass off. If she’s actually got a chance at surviving this, he owes it to her to try.

That’s when it happens.

Rue’s screams echo in your ears as Katniss races through the forest. Something has gone wrong—she's been captured or the Careers are using her as bait, or—you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress and then recross them, wanting more than anything to bite at the skin around your nails. You hold your breath, hoping beyond hope that she’s saved from whatever fate has befallen her.

She’s by herself in the clearing. Caught in a net, but not hurt. Katniss manages to get Rue out and your muscles begin to untense, but the relief is incredibly short-lived.

Marvel, that cocky little boy from two, throws his spear with deadly precision, lance soaring past Katniss to pierce Rue in the abdomen.

Your hands are numb as they cover your mouth, but then you remember where you are and drop them just as quickly. She pulls the spear from her chest and you want to yell at her not to, that taking it out will only make her bleed quicker. Like it even matters at all when she’ll bleed out regardless. You think you need to sit down.

Katniss catches her before she falls. You’re lightheaded.

Katniss sings to her after she whispers something that the mics can’t pick up and it feels like your heart is being wrung dry. You think of Rue’s mother. You think of her six siblings, who all look up to her. You think of Coriander. You think of how small she felt in your arms and how tightly she held your hand. You think of a lot of things in the time it takes for her heart to stop beating.

The cannon fires and all eyes go to you. Ranging from curious to pitying. Some are even tearful. She was a fan favorite, after all. Mentors and Capitols alike split their attention between you and the screens to catch your reaction, but your face is deceptively blank. You stare ahead silently, your eyes unseeing as they remain on the screen.

You will not give them the pleasure of seeing you break down. Katniss will leave and Rue’s body will be airlifted out and that will be the end of it.

This is nothing new for you. You’ve gone through this twelve other times. Why would she be any different? She isn't. You tell that to your shaky hands and they only tremble further. You tell your heavy lungs and they only get heavier. You try telling your chilly skin, but all it does is make you feel colder. Why is she different?

You want to close your eyes as Katniss grieves. To be able to save one little girl but not another, it must weigh heavy.

“I’m so sorry." Someone comes to stand beside you, some Capitol elite. “One less chance for your district to win.” You look at him from the corner of your eye and Haymitch scoffs on your other side. For one stupid moment, you thought he was offering his condolences.

“Right. Well. There’s still Thresh.” He nods along to your words, thoughtful, like you’re talking about the likelihood of a horse winning a race.

“Yes, he’s the big one, right? I have money riding on him or Cato winning.” Of course, he remembers his name and not Thresh’s. You close your eyes before they can roll out of your head. “I’d like to send him something to eat as a sponsor. I worry—what is she doing?” You open your eyes to see what tribute has captured his attention, only to see Katniss again. But she’s still with Rue, kneeling next to her body with an armful of flowers—

“She’s giving her a funeral.” You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Rue rests on a bed of flowers—white daisies and lavender. She tucks a bouquet of daisies in her little hands and you wonder if Katniss knows the significance that being surrounded by flowers has for your people. Or maybe that’s something your two districts have in common. All that’s missing is fruit and it would be a proper Eleven funeral.

A funeral for a little girl. Your heart grows heavy with that realization and your mouth curls into a scowl.

You shouldn’t think about how she clung to you before she was sent into the arena. You shouldn’t think of Coriander’s childish hope dying with her. You shouldn’t think about her family watching this. You shouldn’t think of how her mother woke up this morning with six children and will go to sleep with only five. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t—

“Oh, how sweet.” The man coos.

“Yes.” Katniss faces the camera, kisses her three middle fingers, and salutes the cameras—salutes District Eleven. You don’t think of Coriander sprinting to the train clutching a grass-woven necklace with a good-luck charm that wasn’t very lucky. “Very sweet."

On instinct, you reach to the left for Finnick, but there's no hand to hold other than your own.

You need Finnick, and he isn’t here and for the first time since you've become a mentor, you have to brave the games by yourself and shoulder your grief alone.

“Kid…” A flinch rolls through you at the unexpected voice, and you look to your left at Haymitch’s face as he goes through a range of emotions before settling on sympathy. No. Empathy. For a moment, you forgot he was beside you. But he hasn’t forgotten you.

He does something that surprises you again. He places a big hand on the nape of your neck, warm and callused, and squeezes. You exhale sharply, your face twisting minutely, and it’s the closest thing to crying that you’ll allow yourself to do. He pulls you into his side, and it’s a battle not to burrow into him—a battle you lose. Your image will allow you to do this much. Allow you to be comforted while many of the other Capitols in the room do the same thing because it’s all very sad. You wrap your arms around his waist from where you’re held tight against his side and his hand goes down to rub your back soothingly.

No words are said between you two, and that’s enough. It has to be. Past (xiii) - Finnick

[22 & 23] - DISTRICT FOUR Finnick has never felt worse.

The sky is clear, the stars are bright, and Finnick has never felt worse.

It’s a particularly quiet night on the beach. There’s no one walking along the shore, no bonfires, no night swimming. There’s only Finnick.

He sits with his legs crossed under him; the coarse sand is warm against the exposed skin of his legs and feet. He’s always been able to come down to the beach to think and unload any weight on his shoulders. With how heavy his heart feels, he’s never needed that release more. A cool breeze carries the smell of the ocean, but it’s not as comforting as it should be.

He reaches into the ornate box sitting between his thighs and just rests his hand there, letting his fingers ghost over the pages upon pages of parchment paper. He’s kept a tight lid on this box, hoarding your letters and your scent inside like a corvid. Even now, outside on the shore, your smell wafts around him—concentrated and stiff. He blinks past the tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t look inside; he doesn’t think he can handle it. To see the length of your relationship measured by words on paper, to know he’ll never be adding to this box again—it’s too much.

He pulls out a letter at random.

His eyes have already readjusted to the darkness as he uses the moonlight to read. He traces the looping lines of your handwriting.

This is the letter you sent along with that pretty picture of yourself in case he forgot what you look like. A beautiful sentiment, but largely unnecessary. Finnick knows your reflection as well as he knows his own, if not better. Even now, with all this space, time, and hurt between the two of you, he could draw your portrait blindfolded. Not that anything could ever live up to the real thing. Nothing can compare to you.

He sighs, twisting his bracelet around his wrist absently. He feels the cool grooves of the fish charm between his thumb and pointer finger as he looks at the stars. There are more stars than there are grains of sand. Each tiny, flickering dot is a blazing inferno, the likes of which he can hardly comprehend. They don’t shine nearly as brightly as you do in his memory.

He just…he just wishes he could have told you that.

Unconsciously, his eyes fall on Cassiopeia. Punished for boasting about the beauty of her daughter. It’s not fair. Her only crime was loving her child, and for that, she was forced to give her up for the safety of her kingdom.

Sacrificing someone you love for the greater good. He can’t tell if he wants to scoff, scream, or cry. Maybe all three.

Are you looking at the same sky as him? Even now, are the two of you still connected? Is it cruel to hope for that? It has to be, but Finnick has found that he's grown rotten in his misery. Rotten and incredibly selfish.

Over the past year, you’ve sent him letter after letter and he read each one with ravenous eyes—desperate for you in any way he could have you. You were angry, you were hurt, you were confused. You alternated between begging him and demanding him to reply. So he did. Of course, he did. He could never deny you anything.

He just never sent any of them.

He kept them stashed in a drawer, locked away so he didn’t have to look at them—wouldn’t have to look at his bleeding heart. It wasn’t healthy; he knows that, but still. He just wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was back to normal. That he hadn’t ripped out his soul by tearing yours apart.

Those letters had been a constant staple in his life for nearly seven years, and—he was going to wean himself off of it, off of you, really, he was.

But he never got the chance to before they stopped coming a few months ago. They just stopped.

He should be happy about that. He should be pleased that you're moving on. He should be a lot of things that he's not, but, as it turns out, he’s getting pretty fucking sick of performing for an empty audience. You've given up on him, and you have every right to, but—

God, it hurts.

It’s for the best. It’s what he wanted—no, it’s what he needed to happen for both of you. And it’s certainly better than the alternative Snow offered.

Knowing all that doesn’t make it hurt any less; it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

He takes out another letter, and it’s…it’s the first one? The first letter you left him after you spent the night in his room. He remembers waking up on the floor, tired and raw from that conversation on the balcony. He was fully prepared to act like it never happened. He was a little disappointed to wake up alone, but he was sure that it only proved that you wanted to forget about it too. Imagine his surprise when he rolled over—not to the empty space he was expecting, but to a note on your pillow.

I really appreciate…

Thank you for…

Just thank you.

He was left floored. He was seventeen years old and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone thanked him for anything.

Finnick brings the note to his nose and your perfume floods his senses, drowning him in memories. Memories of long train rides home from the Capitol, his only company being the smell of you on his clothes.

And try as he might, he can’t forget. He can still feel the blood caked under his fingernails and flaking at his wrist. Can still feel the warmth of your beating heart in his hand after he ripped it out. That’s his punishment. Remembering it all, good and bad.

He’s broken from his musing by the crunching of sand approaching him from behind.

“You’ve been out here for hours. Aren’t you cold?” Annie's soft-spoken voice is almost lost in the wind. No. He isn’t. He’s the exact opposite, actually. He’s scorching from the inside out. He’s burning bright and hot and one day he’ll implode under the weight of it all like a supernova. The only respite he can imagine is the cool relief of your touch. He’s scared he’ll forget what that feels like.

She sighs when he doesn’t answer. “We know you’re hurting, Finnick, and we’re worried. You can talk to us. You don’t have to just…talk to your letters. We’re here for you.”

He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t have the strength to, but he nods anyway. Of course, they can tell he’s hurting. A blind man could spot his suffering from a mile away. He hadn’t bothered to hide it outside of the Capitol.

“...Try not to stay out here too long, okay?

Annie squeezes his shoulder before walking back up the beach, leaving him alone, and he's thankful. She shouldn't have to see him like this. She shouldn't have to see him break down.

I'm allowed to, he thinks, I'm in mourning.

But how can he mourn something he killed?

He reaches into the box one more time, pulling out a stray scrap of paper and a pen. His hands shake along with his shoulders, his handwriting so bad that only he and you would be able to understand it. He writes:

Dear Heart,

I don’t know who Finnick Odair is without his love for you.

Every day, I think I can’t possibly miss you more than I already do. And then another day passes and I prove myself wrong.

Is there a fate crueler than this?

I just want to see you again. I just want to hold you again. One last glance, one last smile, one last laugh, one last kiss. If I knew the last time I saw you would be the LAST time I saw you, I never would have blinked. I’d have made the moment last forever. But forever isn’t nearly enough, is it?

Do you think you could ever forgive me?

-I love you I love you I love you,

Finn

Present (XI) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“I thought I’d find you here."

“Haymitch.” Finnick leans in the doorway of your room, wiping sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the little time he had left with you, but he hadn’t slept next to you in so long and it felt like he was lured in.

“Listen,” the man rubs at his scruff, “it’s not what I came here for, but I’m happy you two figured out whatever the hell…” He trails off with a particularly constipated look, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of your room.

“...Right. Thanks.” Finnick clears his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m happy too.”

“Yeah…Anyway.” He sighs. “There've been a few last-minute adjustments to the plan.”

That wakes Finnick up, his mind running over what Haymitch has already told him to do in the arena. “Oh, should I wake Star—”

“No, no. This is just for you. We realized you’d have no way of knowing when you should be heading to the pickup point, especially since things out here can change on a dime.” He steps closer, burying his hands in his pockets. “Once all of the necessary players are gathered in the arena, a sponsor gift will be sent down, probably some kind of food. Pay attention to the district and the amount that’s sent.”

Finnick squints. “Why?”

“The district tells you the day we’re coming and the amount tells you the hour—do not get the two mixed up.” Haymitch raises a hand, staring Finnick down until he nods.

“Alright, I won’t. And the pickup point?”

“When in doubt, Beetee will know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s sure working behind the scenes and acting as a messenger is harrowing work, especially with Snow on such high alert. “Our girl managed to get in Peeta’s good graces. Not that I’m surprised; they probably bonded over how ‘fun’ and'rewarding' it is to help the less fortunate or something. Having her plus Beetee and Wiress will definitely give Johanna and Blight some credibility in Katniss’s eyes. You, on the other hand, are gonna need to rely on something other than your good looks and Mags.” He fishes a flash of gold out of his pocket—some kind of bracelet.

Finnick takes it gingerly, examining how the light makes it shimmer.

“Take it into the arena as a token. Show it to her, preferably before she shoots you between the eyes. And, shit, if that doesn’t work, ask her…tell her to remember who the real enemy is.”

He wants to ask what that means outside of this very specific context; he wants to know what this bracelet means to him and Katniss if just seeing it will be enough for her to make him an ally. But he doesn’t. He feels like it’ll bring on more questions than it’ll answer.

“I’m gonna need you to hold onto something for me then.” He reaches into one of the deep pockets along his billowy pants until he feels the familiar shape against his fingers. He’s almost hesitant to give it away. When the Quell was announced, he was sure he would die with it on him. But it’s a part of you and he can’t take the chance of it getting destroyed. “It’s, um. It’s a photo she gave to me a few years back, I always carry it on me—”

“You don’t need to explain.” When it’s handed to him, Haymitch takes a moment to look at you. Finnick feels a little self-conscious of how faded it is from years of him running his fingers along your face—faded from years of being well loved. “I’ll make sure she gets back to you.” He’s careful when placing your photo in his pocket and Finnick feels relieved that there’s someone on the outside who wants to get you out of the arena just as much as he does.

“Good luck, kid.” He squeezes Finnick’s shoulder and hesitates. His eyes shift to the walkway that leads to where you’re resting. “When she wakes up, tell her…Tell her I said…” He trails off, his face severe, and Finnick understands painfully well.

“I will.” He promises. Haymitch purses his lips before giving a nod. Finnick watches his back as he leaves and wonders if that will be the last conversation he has with the man, one of his oldest friends.

Present (XI) - You

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; THE ARENA “Your tracker.” The Peacekeeper yanks your arm up wordlessly and waits for you to pull your sleeve back. You squint around the sharp pain as he jabs the needle into your forearm, burying the tracking device under your skin. You glare at his back and rub at your now-raised skin.

You grip the straps of your seatbelt as the hovercraft begins its ascent.

As relayed from Haymitch to Finnick to you, Peeta brought you up as an ally, and, luckily enough, Katniss wasn't against the idea. It might have something to do with the conversation you and she had before the Chariot Rides or maybe it’s the fact that you're the only person Peeta suggested. It hadn't been your intention to get on his good side when you offered to train him, but you're glad you did. It makes your job that much easier.

“It's a very breathable, lightweight material, so I’m thinking of a humid environment, maybe tropical. Large bodies of water for certain. Have you decided on a token?" Your stylist pipes up from her seat beside you.

“Oh. Yeah.” You lift your hand to show her the blue bracelet sitting snugly on your wrist. She gasps and you pull your wrist away, looking around the carrier for anything that could be the cause of the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” She waves you off with a flippant hand. “It’s just, I didn’t think I’d see you wear that bracelet again. I know Finnick never took his off, but—” You yank your arm back against your chest, holding your bracelet almost as if you can hide it.

"Wha-what..how do you, how…?”

“Us stylists confide in each other, and, well, those of us behind the scenes thought the two of you were just so cute together! I never saw you without that bracelet for five years straight and then one day, it was just gone. Poof! Oh, we were worried sick something happened with you two. But now it’s back!” She cheers, clapping her hands.

You gape at her. “You…you knew? All of you? And you never…?” Never leaked the gossip to the tabloids? To Snow?

“What? Heavens no! We're not heartless, dear. It wasn't our place. Besides,” she leans over, her crimson-painted lips pulled into a smile as she pats your thigh. Her eyes are glossy enough that you’re almost certain she’ll start crying. “You two deserve to be happy.”

You nod stiltedly, rocked by this new information. Did Finnick know? No. If either of you did, you would have been a bit nicer to your stylists. You’re quiet for the rest of the flight as she talks to you. This time around, you do try to listen to what she’s saying, nodding along at the right moments to show you’re paying attention. It’s a bit late, but you feel like you owe it to her.

She walks you down to the tube that’ll take you to the arena.

“This is it, my dear.” She sniffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she actually starts crying now. “Oh, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.” She apologizes, fanning her pale face. You don’t think about it too hard; instead, you step toward her and pull her into a tentative hug.

“It’s okay, Shimmer,” you comfort her. “And for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not fair at all.” You let her squeeze you tight, allowing the hug to go on longer than you normally would. She inhales and then pulls away. She holds you by your shoulders and takes you in. “It’s been an honor working with you, my dear.”

“Same here.” You smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

You step onto the platform.

The door slides shut behind you and you start feeling sick as you rise. Sick enough that you worry you might vomit before you even make it into the arena. Your heart beats in your teeth. It’s starting to dawn on you, you realize, just how fucked you are. There’s the revolution, but there’s no guarantee you’ll even live long enough to be saved. You’ve been training like crazy, not that it was that hard with the way you grew up. It’s one thing to use your skills for physical labor; it’s another to use them in a fight to the death. That wasn’t how you survived your Games.

You hold your breath, gathering and reminding yourself of what’s important. The plan. And the plan hinges on you getting to the Cornucopia and surviving.

Your stylist tearfully waves you off as you rise, her elaborate and puffy white gown the last you see of her. You look up at the hole of light as you approach it, your nails digging into your palm.

The drastic temperature change makes you shiver and squint, raising your hand to block the blinding rays of the sun. This heat is different from the kind you’re used to. Heavier, somehow even more humid than Eleven’s muggy summers. The sun disorients you and the little wind that comes through carries the smell of salt. You push through the fog of your senses and force yourself to see.

There’s water—a shit ton of it. Saltwater if your nose is to be trusted. Shimmer was right.

The first thing you do is look for Finnick. You can’t help yourself; the need to know where he is is stronger than your need to acclimate. Your gaze bounces from tribute to tribute in your search for him. Sweat is already gathering on your brow when you finally find him. You see him, but only barely, on your left. He’s about three sections away, close enough that you make eye contact with him. It’s brief and fleeting, but long enough for your stomach to settle and your heartbeat to slow.

You’re all divided by rocky strips of land that protrude from the island the Cornucopia rests on like the spokes of a wheel. And in between each spoke are two tributes. That would mean there are twelve sections.

Mentally, you try to map out where everyone is. You note that Finnick is standing beside Chaff.

On your immediate left is Johanna, sectioned off from you by the long line of rocks. You nod at each other and relief courses through you knowing you won’t have to search for her. Beetee stands with Cecilia in between Finnick and Johanna’s respective sections. Was this placement intentional or just luck?

With half of your group near you, your eyes rove around for the missing two and—

“Shit.” You curse. You’ll have to go looking for Wiress. That’s the first part of the plan: Johanna gets Beetee, you get Wiress, and Blight waits for the four of you away from the Cornucopia. You’re lucky to be placed next to Beetee and Johanna, but it would have been nice if Wiress was a little closer. Or within your line of sight, at least.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The sound of Ceasar’s cohost echoes throughout the arena and you rush to gather more information. On your immediate right is the woman from Nine, about the same distance from you as the strip of land on your left. You know she never stepped foot in the training center, so you’re confident in the fact that she isn’t a threat. A little further down are Peeta and the man from Ten. You do a double-take. You hadn’t expected him to be so close to you and you have to force yourself to ignore him. You beat back the instinct to watch him like a hawk; that isn’t your job right now—it’s Mags and Finnick’s. The next section houses Woof and Mags and beside them are Enobaria and the female morphling. That’s as far down as you can see.

Your muscles tense up when he begins the countdown.

You take stock of your surroundings. Before you is the Cornucopia, and behind you is a beach and a deep forest—no, a jungle. The large body of water surrounding your platform looks pretty clear. Nothing but fish and plants, you’re sure. It’s doubtful they’d put anything deadly in there. Not when so many of the tributes can’t do anything more than doggy paddle. And certainly not this early into the Games. What an odd choice to have water this deep. Especially considering how rare a skill swimming is in the districts.

You watch the red, rotating cube as it flashes down to one, your muscles poised like a spring as you prepare to jump. You take a breath and dive in.

Deep in the woods behind the shack your family used to call home, there was a lake in an area the Peacekeepers seldom patrolled. That’s where your dad taught you to swim. You haven’t done it in a long time, not since before he was killed. You’re more than a little rusty and you wish you had aimed a little more to your left.

The cold water is a shock to your system, but you don’t have time to stay idle. You don’t sink to the bottom like you think you will; you’ve forgotten how much lighter water makes your body. The salt in the water burns your eyes every time you try to open them so you squint and swim towards where you think the strip of land is. It’s a battle. The distance, while a problem on its own, is nothing compared to the strength of the waves.

You’re panting by the time you make it there, shaky fingers grappling with the wet rocks as you pull yourself up, thanking your forethought to focus on training your upper body strength. The woman from Nine had jumped in the opposite direction, aiming for the beach instead of the Cornucopia. Smart. You’d do the same, but you need a weapon and you need to find Wiress. You push your water-laden hair out of your eyes, getting your feet under you and taking off towards the Cornucopia.

You're surprised when you make it across without slipping. You have to make the split-second decision between getting a weapon or looking for Wiress first. You glance behind you, and no one seems that adept in the water on your side. Johanna is just now clawing her way out of the waves. You guess there aren’t many reasons to swim in Seven. You make a run for the mouth of the Cornucopia with the sound of cannon fire chasing you and you hope to God that no one sets their sights on Wiress. You glance to your right, and you can blurrily make out Finnick, Katniss, and Mags helping Peeta out of the water.

You skid to a stop, your legs freezing without your actual input.

“Finnick!” You yell, and his head whips up before you fully get his name out. The water weighs his hair down, turning it a darker blond than you’re used to seeing it. You aren’t entirely sure why you called out for him. Maybe it was more for his comfort than yours; he’ll need to know that you weren’t the cause of one of the cannons firing.

“Star!” He grasps his trident tighter, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. When he sees none, his shoulders relax but his trident remains poised in anticipation.

He looks from you to his group and back again. You shake your head to stop him from taking that step forward. It was only three hours ago that you last saw him. And before that, the two of you stayed up talking about nothing until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. Nonetheless, the desire to run to him is strong. You can see him fight that same impulse you do. When the cannon fires again, Finnick leaps into action, nodding at you with an uncertain gleam in his eyes before placing Mags on his back.

You watch them all run for the jungle before getting your weapon. You spot a scythe propped up with spears and tridents and can tell immediately that it was planted for you. You take a second to analyze it distrustfully. A metal handle and a deeply curved blade, undoubtedly for show rather than harvesting. You won’t take it. It’s big and cumbersome, and it’ll slow you down in this kind of terrain. Plus, the strength needed to wield this in an actual fight is beyond you. Someone like Chaff or Brutus would get far more use out of it. Maybe even Finnick, if his trident ever fails him. It’ll just tire you out.

Instead, you opt for the twin sickles hanging next to it. They’re also bigger than any you’ve seen in Eleven. With their thick, smooth wooden handles, the blades are sharper than any you have ever used. Their weight will take some getting used to. When you notice more tributes orienting themselves on the rocks behind you, you decide the time for contemplation is over.

You sprint to your left, eyes scouring the water for a small brunette woman. Wiress is on the other side of the Cornucopia, more floating in the water than swimming.

“Wiress!” You call. She waves her hands as if you can’t see her and you nod, weary of attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, she’s been in the water for so long that the waves have carried her towards the island. It doesn’t take much to pull her out.

“You, you’re hurt?” She speaks in her usually broken speech pattern, gesturing towards you, and you’re quick to look down, thinking you’ve been hurt without knowing it. When you come back with nothing, you look back at her, confused, and she gestures again. You realize it’s a question, not a statement.

She seems tunneled in on whether you’re hurt or not. Drenched with water and frustration, you spin around in front of her. “I’m fine, Wiress, I’m fine, but we have to go.” She’s a lot more amicable now, allowing you to corral her back to where you saw Johanna last. The bodies littered around give you pause. In front of you lies a woman who is half-submerged in the pinkish water. Taking a deep breath, you step over her and drag Wiress with you.

When you get to the mouth of the Cornucopia, you spot your two allies locked in a fight. That is to say, Beetee huddles behind Johanna as she fights, clutching a spool of wire to his chest as if it were the only thing between him and certain death. Johanna and the man from Nine are locked in the most dangerous game of tug of war you’ve ever seen. They both have their hands on an axe and if this were a game of speed, she’d have him on his knees already. But he’s bigger than her, stronger too, and just as unwilling to let it go.

Her teeth are bared in exertion, legs almost buckling under the strain. He has the blade pushed alarmingly close to her neck and you don’t think about it; your body is pushed into action before you’re even aware that you’re moving. Later, you’ll think back on how easy it was. You’ll think about how quickly he stopped being a human being like you and instead became an enemy—a threat. You’ll think about it—about who he used to be before he became a body—and you will come alarmingly close to crying. For now, you kick the man in the back of the knee and he goes down with a grunt. Johanna uses the leverage the new position gives her and snatches the axe out of his hands with a huff.

You lift the sickle in your dominant hand high in the air, putting your full weight behind it as you drive the blade into the top of his head. The collision of metal against bone ricochets up your arms, leaving your muscles vibrating. He falls forward with a heavy thud and you stumble backwards. Your hands feel like they’re vibrating and the adrenaline coursing through you puts a stop to any panic before it can begin.

You move forward and have to place your foot on his back, grunting as you use both hands to yank your weapon back out. He makes a keening sound in the back of his throat—the guttural moans of a dying animal. You’re not used to being the one on this side of the slaughter. He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long. You won’t wait for the cannon to go off.

“Let’s go!” The four of you sprint towards the beach, glancing behind you in case the Careers decide to give chase. There are still plenty of tributes on their platforms, too scared to brave the water. They should hold their attention long enough for your group to get away. Running away as the Careers lay claim to the Cornucopia makes you feel like prey.

“Blight!” Johanna shouts and your head whips around, searching until you find the burly man a few yards away, waving you over. You all run to him and you take another mental stock.

Between the five of you, you have an axe, two sickles, a machete Johanna grabbed, a spool of wire, and two brilliant minds. That should be more than enough for the plan. Johanna hands the machete over to Blight and you and her share a glance before wordlessly booking it into the jungle with your charges. Blight leads and you carry the rear.

You really hope it doesn’t take long to find Finnick.

A/N: ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ Heyyyy, are you mad at me? I hope you didn't mind that rant in the summary. I felt like Rue's death from this perspective hurt a little more bc you know it's coming, but Star doesn't, and sometimes I get carried away with writing my thoughts. ┐(シ)┌ More Finnick audios in the next chapter to make up for the shortage in this one. Come yell at me!!!

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gojos-fr-bae · 6 months

Text

Liar pt.2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: Pregnancy, blood, mass k1lling, heavy themes kinda, angst, not proofred

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Here's Part 2! If anyone wants a part three I will definitely but bc i'm busy with school It will probably come over the weekend so ya'll will have to wait a week 😭 Y/N and Kouki didn't make appearances in this part unfortunately but I felt like Satoru just needed hi moment. This is more serious than py.1 so I still hope you like it. Not proof red.

Month 3

Satoru

Gojo layed practically lifeless on his bed, devoid of any life or emotion other than pain. He hadn’t left the room since his arrival for he had lost his entire reason to live. He doesn’t even know how he survived before you. He had run out of tears to shed as he wallowed in pure unadulterated anguish.

All you had ever asked of him is to be there for you, to love and cherish you. You had never asked for more from him. You had always been a shoulder to lean on, you had always unconditionally loved him no matter how long he abandoned you, how many arguments you had or how many lies he told. And all you had ever wanted from him, is for him to be there, and he couldn’t even do that. Now not only did he lose the love of his life, but his son too.

If you had told him even five years ago that he not only would have settled down with someone, but had a child with them, he would have laughed so hard he would fall over.

His biggest fear was always being inadequate. What if he wasn’t a good father. He can’t even protect you, how would he be able to protect his own child? A life that he brought into this world with the most perfect woman in the world but tainted with his blood.

If only he hadn’t taken that mission. If only he had been there. If only you weren’t harassed into leaving him.

Suddenly, his pain slowly morphed into anger, pure red hot hatred.

They did this.

The higher ups, his parents, all of them. They forced you to leave. They are the reason why he lost his wife and child. It was all their fault that he lost everything. Gojo was overwhelmed with the want to shed all their blood. To get justice for you, his son, for having to surfer in his absence. All those disgusting excuses for humans did this.

And they. Will. Pay.

Month 4

Satoru had been struggling to find a way to control his emotions. The extreme pain and hatred that coursed through his veins. He couldn’t let them know what he was planning, but all he would see was red as they dared to show their putrid faces to him. Gojo found himself doing something he had never imagined he would as he drowned himself in alcohol

He had reached a point where he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to kill while sober. He would wake up, drink, get dressed, drink, work, eat, drink and fall asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

He hated it so much and knew you would hate to see him like this but every time he walked past the untouched nursery and gazed the crib lying empty at the edge of the room, he could never hold back his emotions and would sob on the floor, leaning beside it and drinking to stop the pain. To stop feeling. He just wanted to make it stop.

All this showed him just how much he needed to fix the jujutsu world. He needed to make sure that his students would be safe, that they would never have to experience this form of immense, unbearable sadness. He had to do this once and for all.

…………..

Twenty elders filled the conference room, gazes landing on the six-eyes sorcerer seated at the foot of the long table, sipping on a glass of bourbon and completely ignoring their presence

Gojou was currently considered a fugitive and the higher ups were only taking this opportunity to catch him off guard. If only they knew.

“So, you decided to finally show yourself,” His father mumbled,sitting to one his right, his mother on his left..

Satoru stayed silent as all of them took their seats. Ancient and renowned former sorcerers. All of them, in one room. ALl the higher ups of not only jujutsu tech, But the Jujutsu world. Every single one of them.

They simultaneously began to question him, their voices filling his head only adding to his anger. He clenched his fist so tight his nails drew blood from his palm.

“Why,” He mumbled in an almost inaudible tone, yet loud enough to silence all those seated at the table.

“Why what?” an elder of the zen’in clan questioned in a gruff tone.

Fear filled their eyes as a chilling and heavy cursed energy loomed over the room, radiation from the white haired sorcerer.

“You harassed my wife and son to the point where they fled the country,” Ho practically growled under his breath, finally taking off his glasses and looking up at all those who sat before him with bloodshot eyes.

“You really think that that stupid commoner could even raise a-”

Vivid violence and k1ll1ng under the cut, skip to the next cut if uncomfortable with this.

........

The man's words were cut off by his head exploding, blood splattering on those who sat beside him, his lifeless body slumping down on the table. They screamed and began to curse out Satoru but he went around the room ruthlessly slaughtering each and every one of them. One. At. A. Time.

And he made sure they all suffered a slow and painful death while his parents sat there and watched it all unfold before their eyes. As Satoru completed the butchering of the higher ups, he slowly walked towards them, hair dyed a deep red from their blood, clothes drenched in the same. He slowly leaned towards his father.

“You’re next.” He whispered ominously.

He straightened himself and slowly walked out of the room, leaving the heaps of corpses behind him and never turning back.

……..

Gojo, slowly opened the door to the grand door leading to his cold and empty home. He forced himself into the shower, washing away the blood that latched to his skin, hand gripped tightly around your ring which hung loosely off his neck. HIs tears mixed with the water cascading from the shower, finally feeling one of the many burdens he carries on his shoulders melt away with the grime on his body.

He made his way to his bed, sitting on the soft comforters and picking up the picture he kept on his bedside table, in a small gold frame.

He gently kissed it before laying down and clutching it to his chest, mentally preparing for the turmoil he will experience starting tomorrow. But he was ready to fight the entire world if that is what it took. As long as he was making a world safe enough for his son to live in, he would fight the devil himself.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Even more sceptical abt this one..... Angry Gojo tho......

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo angst #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen

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1-800-imagines · 1 year

Text

kidnapped | jay halstead imagine

authors note : takes place in season 3 episode 1

warnings: medical trauma, pregnancy, kidnapping

You were currently on bed rest from work as you were 6 months pregnant with your first baby. Voight had decided to put you on “time out” from work even just at the desk, answering calls. Your pregnancy was considered high risk and no one was messing around. Your job was stressful considering the different situations you all had been put in.

Jay was especially worried about you. He had asked you to marry him just before you found out you were pregnant. So your days consisted of wedding planning and texting Kim, Trudy, and even Al to try as see what was happening in the unit because Jay wouldn’t tell you anything.

The doorbell rang so you went to walk to the door. Your stomach dropped when you saw it was Voight. He had a strict no contact policy with you these last months of pregnancy but the rule was you only would call him when you went into labor and he would only call you if something bad had happened. And now he was in person.

You opened the door immediately, “What happened?”

He sighed and walked in, “Jay’s been taken. By Derek Keyes, a heroin kingpin.”

Your knees began to buckle as he spoke. Hank reached out and grabbed your elbows to stop you from hitting the ground.

“We’ll get him back, sweetheart. But you have to come into protective custody.”

All you could do was nod as he helped you to the car. You were numb, not knowing how to feel. Jay was the love of your life and soon to be father of your child.

While driving, Voight filled you in on the details on how he had been in contact with Derek Keyes and that Jay was still alive, which was the main thing. There was a negotiation being made but they didn’t want to tell you the details.

Hank escorted you all the way to the bullpen, but was going on a drive. You honestly didn’t question it. You were sitting at Jay’s desk instead of your own while Al made a phone call, “I know you’re on the outs, but I figured you’d want to know. Jay’s been kidnapped.” There was a pause, “Yeah she’s here but… yeah yeah… she’s on bed rest.”

You looked over to him and he gave you a soft smile as he hung up, “We’re gonna get him back, sweetheart.“ He put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently.

They had told you that the drop was set for 9am the next morning which meant more waiting.

All you could do was just sit at the desk and try to hold your tears in.

Finally, around 8am, Voight came back asking about the CI files that were for the exchange. He then asked for Burgess to do the drop as Keyes wanted a female but Adam protested.

“I’ll do it.” Lindsay’s voice echoed from the stairs. Your head turned towards her.

Voight began to argue with her but Erin shot right back, “This isn’t about me. It’s about getting Jay back to his family.”

She glanced your way and offered a small smile. She brushed her hand on your back as she walked towards Voight’s office.

After that, things were a blur. With Erin getting ready to make the drop and your overwhelming worry for Jay, you were a wreck. Erin was going to the drop while Burgess and Roman stayed with you.

When everyone finally left, you broke. You were sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Kim just wrapped her arms around you and held you.

Suddenly, you felt a stabbing pain and you gasped out. “What is it? What is it?” Kim asked, looking you up and down.

You felt something dripping between your legs thinking your water had broke so you looked down and gasped when you saw it was bright red.

“Roman call an ambo.” Kim ordered as she pushed your hair back, “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Call Will.” You gasped out. It only took moments after that for you to start losing consciousness.

The next thing you heard was Kim trying to rouse you and the paramedics saying all different medical terms.

“Jay,” You groaned out, not remembering that he had been taken.

—

The gurney was being wheeled out and you into the trauma bay. You were completely unconscious.

“Patient is unconscious. Suspected from blood loss. Heavy bleeding still happening. BP skyrocketing.” The paramedic spouted out.

When your gurney was parked and you had been moved to the bed, Will came running in, “Status?”

“Dr. Halstead, we need you to get out of the room.” A nurse said softly.

“No! What is the status?” Will argued.

The doctor working on you began to preform an ultrasound, “Potential partial placental abruption. We either need to deliver this baby or get control of the bleeding.”

“You can’t deliver her. She’s only 6 months.” Will said, finally going to your side and giving room to the doctors.

Before the doctor could answer, Burgess came running back in, “They found him. He’s alive. He’s on his way here in an ambo.”

Will sighed with relief, “Start with a blood transfusion, betamethasone and dexamethasone.”

—

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in a hospital bed. You looked around to see Jay sitting in the chair next to you, holding your hand.

“Hey,” You whispered.

Jay sat right up and squeezed your hand. He looked awful, “Hey sweetheart. You and the baby are both fine.” He smoothed your hair back.

“You look like you should be in a bed too,” You smiled lightly.

“Technically I am. Right next to you.” He grinned.

You looked over and saw an empty bed. You shook your head at him, “Always the rebel, huh?”

He stood up and kissed your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” You leaned against him.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” It was Will talking, he walked in smiling. “You had a partial placental abruption. Most likely due to stress. We gave you some medicine to help develop to baby’s lungs and brain develop in case we had to deliver him early.”

“It’s a boy?” You smiled, tears slipping down your cheeks. The two of you had been waiting to find out the sex of the baby.

“It’s a boy.” Will smiled. “Sorry for ruining the surprise.”

Jay smiled and hugged Will, “Doesn’t matter. You kept her safe and my little boy inside so he can keep growing.”

“Also, I hate to say it, but, you’re going to have to spend the rest of your pregnancy in the hospital. It’s too much of a risk to have you go home.” Will said.

You nodded and put your hand on your stomach, “Whatever it takes to keep me and my boys safe.” You looked at Jay and smiled.

#jay halstead #one chicago #one chicago imagine #will halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fic #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine

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gloomysoup · 1 month

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when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 4

hello yes i know it's been a while. this part has been a pain in my ass for months. i needed to get it just right and rewrote this thing so many times it's not even funny. and now, after editing it five times over the last two days, i'm just posting it. what's done is done. if i came back to it again i would have rewritten and i don't wanna do that. so here it is at least. there is also going to be at least one more part. i'm shooting for two more hopefully but i make no promises. the next part could very well be the last. i hope you enjoy :)

ao3 pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

cw: hospitals, dissociation, mentions of overdose, addiction, sobriety, and relapse

Eddie couldn’t move. His body was fighting against every instinct he should have in the moment. Someone could throw something directly at his head, and he wouldn’t react. The buzzing voices around him faded in and out as he stared at a chip in the wood of the table in front of him.

One of Steve’s doctors had finally come to speak with them. They couldn’t say anything for certain at the moment, but he was alive, and that’s all Eddie heard before his head went fuzzy again. His mind was still reeling, caught on the fact that he should have seen this. He should have noticed. He should have been able to help Steve. He failed the only person who’d ever loved him like that, the only one who ever would love Eddie like that. Because Steve was it for him. He’d always known that. No one else would even come close. No one could ever compare to Steve Harrington.

Not only had he failed Steve, but he’d failed Robin too. He was supposed to keep Steve safe. Robin couldn’t lose her best friend; Eddie knew that. He’d promised to take care of him. He couldn’t even do that one thing right. God, what was he going to tell Robin?

They didn’t want Steve to have visitors yet. Eddie managed to gather that much at least. It was still touch and go. He wasn’t awake. They weren’t sure if he ever would be. They’re flushing his system, but it’s really just a game of wait and see. They might be able to see him in the morning, but the doctor wasn’t making any promises. It all depended on how the rest of the night went. If he made it through. They couldn’t say anything else for certain. There had been a lot of drugs in his system. He’d been deprived of oxygen for a long time. There was no way to be sure what would happen next. That was all up to Steve now.

Eddie sat there in that uncomfortable waiting room chair for hours. He didn’t move. He didn’t eat or drink. He didn’t even get up to go to the bathroom. He just sat there, staring at the same chip in the wooden table. His friends all tried their best to get through to him. They tried to coax him into eating or drinking something, but their efforts were unsuccessful. No one could get through to him, and he preferred it that way. He deserved to sit in his own silence, letting his brain run reckless and spiral to the depths of his fears and anxiety. He had failed.

He noticed that the more time seemed to pass, the antsier his bandmates got. Though, he couldn’t be exactly sure that’s what was happening. Time escaped him.

Time was such a funny thing, wasn’t it? It can feel like it speeds up, slows down, or stops entirely, but it never changes. It’s always the same. It’s all in the imagination. Eddie was never that good at telling time as a child. Even as he grew older, he found it difficult to keep track. As he sat in that hospital, his entire life on the brink of falling apart at the seams, time was nowhere to be found. Nothing made sense. He just sat silently, staring. People moved around him, time passed, but Eddie didn’t move. He was trapped. His body was at the hospital, but his mind kept bouncing around. From his mom, to Wayne, to Steve on the bathroom floor. An endless cycle. Eddie was hanging on by a single thread: the only thread of life left in Steve.

Eddie would never survive if Steve didn’t make it out alive.

Eddie was aware that a long time had passed only by the ache in his joints and the dryness of his mouth. He also sort of needed to pee, but that wasn’t important. At least, not important enough to warrant getting up. He couldn't move. He needed to stay right in that spot. Nothing was more important than that.

“Come on, Ed,” Wayne’s gruff voice said from somewhere behind him. Eddie stayed rooted to the spot. “It’s time to go, kid. We’ve gotta get to the reception.”

Eddie stood silently, staring straight ahead at the marble headstone. His mother’s name was engraved with curly letters. Eddie hadn’t known that was possible. There were piles of flowers that he knew wouldn’t be there next week. He didn’t speak. His feet were glued to the soft ground beneath him. His suit was itchy and his worn dress shoes were a size too small. The tie around his neck was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

He broke down right there, tears rolling down his cheeks and gasping sobs bursting from his chest. He sank down to the ground at the foot of his mother’s fresh grave, clawing at the stupid red tie that his mother had bought him two years prior and the collar of his white dress shirt. Wayne sighed softly and sat down beside him, gently pulling his hands away and shushing Eddie as he loosened the tie. He let him collapse against his chest, tie almost completely off and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Wayne held him through each wracking sob and stuttering breath, murmuring comfort until he’d gotten it all out.

“I couldn’t do it, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whispered hoarsely. “Why couldn’t I do it?”

“Do what, Ed?”

“Save her.”

Why couldn't he do it?

“Eddie, seriously, you need to eat something,” Jeff said, holding out a bag of chips from the vending machine. Eddie stared blankly at the bag, seeing but not really. He heard the words coming from Jeff’s mouth, but his body refused to respond. He couldn’t quite fully process what he was saying. It slipped out of his head before he got the chance, replaced with his mother’s voice, or Steve promising he was fine. He was fine. There was nothing wrong. It was just weed. Nothing more. He was fine.

He lied.

What else had Steve lied about? What else was he keeping from Eddie? Every time Steve came home late, claiming some generic excuse about work or traffic or whatever else it may have been, how often had those been lies? What had he been doing instead? Getting high? Shooting up in a parking garage somewhere? Was he ever with someone else? Someone who wasn’t Eddie?

Steve would never cheat. Eddie had to remind himself of that over and over again. Repeat it on a loop in his head. Anything to get it to stay there.

He would not cheat. He would not cheat. He would not cheat.

But he would lie.

Eddie has never been insecure about their relationship before. He loved Steve more than anything. He always knew Steve felt the same. Steve loved him. No questions asked. Eddie knew. He didn't need to be told that Steve loved him. It was just obvious. Now, though, Eddie was second guessing everything. Why would he lie? If Steve could lie so easily about something like this, what else had he lied about? Had their whole relationship been a lie? Has Steve ever told him the truth about anything?

His brain swirled with more thoughts, more insecurities. He stared at the chip in the table as he spiraled. His fingers and toes were tingling. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. Any minute now, he was going to wake up. Everything would be fine. It was just one big nightmare. He would be laying in bed next to Steve, who would be snoring softly. He would roll over and tuck his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. He could hold him tight, bury his nose in the back of Steve’s neck and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. He could fall back into a peaceful sleep with Steve in his arms, safe and sound.

Except he wasn't waking up. No matter how much he tried, no matter how hard he willed his eyes to open, it didn't happen. He was trapped. There was no escape. Steve wasn't there. He may never be there again. This was all Eddie’s fault. If only he’d noticed. If only he cared enough. None of it was enough. Eddie wasn’t enough. He never should have expected to be enough for Steve. Steve deserved better.

Eddie never should have asked him to come on tour with them.

If Eddie hadn’t asked him to go, this never would have happened. Steve would be at home, in their apartment with Robin, probably sleeping in her room every night. He hated sleeping alone. He’d be sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of Eddie’s hoodies and the threadbare blue blanket they took from the trailer when they moved, watching movies with Robin and a bowl of popcorn. He wouldn’t be dying in a hospital in New York. He’d be happy and safe. Eddie would miss him like hell, but at least he would be safe.

The sun was shining, blindingly bright, through the tall windows on the far wall of the waiting room when the doctor finally came back. Eddie’s knee had taken to bouncing anxiously a while ago, maybe an hour, maybe more. He can’t be sure. His brain had mostly come back online, but he still felt a little foggy. Untethered. His world was unbalanced. His ears were still ringing even as the doctor started talking. He barely heard a single word. Snippets of information filtered through the fog. Stable. Made it through the night. Up to Steve now. ICU. Visitors. The next thing he knows, Jeff is leading him through the halls with the doctor. It’s just the three of them. Other doctors and nurses bustled around them.

They finally crossed the double doors into the ICU. Eddie’s heart pounded as the doctor led them over to one of the sliding doors. She opened it, and Eddie couldn't move. He could hear the machines inside, see the edge of the hospital bed. If he turned his head a little, he knew he would see Steve. The doctor walked in and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed. She flipped it open and clicked her pen, writing things down and glancing at monitors.

“Eddie, why don't we go inside?” Jeff suggested softly, his hand on Eddie’s arm. “Steve needs you right now.”

Eddie's feet moved of their own accord, taking slow steps into the room. Jeff followed behind him, closing the door once they were both in the room. He carefully led Eddie over to the chair, giving him a light push on the shoulder to sit him down. As soon as he was close enough, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand. An instinct he would probably always have. It didn't matter what was going on in his brain. If Steve’s hand was there, Eddie was holding it.

“Is he okay?” the doctor asked gently, nodding to Eddie.

Jeff sighed. “I hope so. This is all really hard on him.”

“How long have they been together?”

Jeff looked up, a little startled. It may have been New York, and queer relationships were a little more accepted than they were just a few years ago, but Steve and Eddie had always been careful. Cautious. They all had. But she was quick to respond before Jeff could even think to redirect.

“It’s okay, really. I know what love looks like. I would look at my partner the same way if something like this ever happened to her.”

“Oh.” Jeff glanced at Eddie, who had his eyes glued to Steve’s hand in his. “Um… it’s been almost eight years now. They’ve been through a lot together.”

She closed the chart and put it back at the end of the bed. She nodded a few times, watching the machines that beeped rhythmically. “I’m going to hold on to hope,” she said softly. “For them. For everyone like us. I can’t say anything for certain; this is all up to Steve. We’re doing everything we can. But I’m holding on to hope.”

“I guess that’s all any of us can do now, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” She cleared her throat and took a step back from the bed, turning to Jeff. “I have other patients to round on, but I’ll be back to check up on everything in a couple of hours. If you guys need anything, just let one of the nurses know.”

“Thank you.”

Silence fell through the room as the doctor left. Jeff took the chair in the corner, letting Eddie have whatever time he needed. He was mostly there for Eddie’s sake; someone had to make sure he would be okay until Wayne got there. Truthfully, they were all out of their depths here. No one really understood what was happening in Eddie’s brain. Not even close to the way Wayne would.

They sat there in total silence for a long time. It's unclear to Eddie just how long, but long enough that Jeff had gotten up four times. Once to get food, once for the bathroom, and twice to hit vending machines and coffee. Not that Eddie accepted anything Jeff offered him. His body still felt wildly disconnected from his brain. His limbs were heavy. He also knows it's been long enough that nurses have come in to check on Steve eight times, and his doctor has been back once. It seems the only thing Eddie’s mind can keep track of is how many times someone has entered or exited Steve’s room in the ICU.

Jeff gets up for a fifth time. Another bathroom break, from the few words Eddie managed to retain. The door slid shut behind him, and Eddie was alone again. He squeezed Steve’s hand three times, desperate for any sign that he's still there. That he's fighting for Eddie. Nothing happens. The machines beep. His chest rises and falls rhythmically with the calculated breaths of the ventilator. Steve’s eyes shift beneath his eyelids, but they don't open. They won't open. The door slid open again, and Eddie assumed Jeff was back, though it seemed like he wasn't gone very long. And then he hears it.

“Oh, God.”

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of Robin’s shaky voice behind him. She looked wrecked. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy and red. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. Wayne was standing beside her, looking somber. He watched her take a rattled breath, crossing the room slowly. Her eyes don't leave Steve. Wayne followed a few moments later, coming to stand behind Eddie and put a hand on his shoulder. Eddie wanted to break. As if he hadn't been slowly breaking this whole time.

“They- they said it was an overdose?” Robin asked softly, her voice cracking at the end. Eddie merely nodded, still trying to find his voice. “What- what happened, Eddie? Was it- was he drugged? How- how did this- did he relapse?”

“Relapse?” Eddie croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. That didn't make any sense. For Steve to relapse, he would have to be…. “He- he was clean?”

Robin frowned, and her gaze finally found Eddie. “What do you mean he was clean? He's been clean since ‘85, Eddie. I- I helped him, after Starcourt.”

All the air left Eddie’s lungs in an instant. This was all his fault. Steve was- he was clean. Sober. And Eddie ruined that. He gave Steve weed. He brought him on tour. He took him to parties full of temptation. He killed Steve.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered.

“Eddie, you have to tell me what's going on,” Robin begged. “When did he relapse? Why didn't he call me? He promised he would talk to me if he wanted to get high again.”

“I- Oh, God. I didn't know. He- he didn't tell me.” Eddie couldn't breathe. His heart squeezed in his chest, and his lungs pushed the air from his body until there was nothing left. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get it back. He was already hyperventilating. “This is all my fault. Oh my god, it's all my fault.” He was distantly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks again.

Wayne stepped between Eddie and Robin, crouching down to look up into his nephew's face. His hands were solid against Eddie’s skin, just like they always were. “Ed, you need to talk to me. Take a breath, kid. I'm right here, but you have to tell me what's going on.”

Eddie’s breath stuttered halfway through his chest. “I didn't know, Wayne.”

“What didn't you know, Eddie?”

“I didn't- I didn't know he was sober. I- I thought I- I was just trying to help. I- I gave him weed. I did this.”

Robin’s expression hardened. “You did this to him?”

“I'm so sorry,” Eddie choked out between sobs. “I didn't- I didn't know. I was just trying to help. And- and then he- I knew he wasn't telling me something, but- but he promised it was just weed.”

“Get out.” Robin’s voice was firm, but he could hear the trembling fear behind it.

“What? I-”

“Get out. Get out, right now. You did this, Eddie. He was doing so good until he met you! And now he's dying! So get the hell out, before I make you!"

It was at this moment that the door opened for Jeff’s return. He paused just inside the doorway. Wayne stood up, facing Robin.

“Now, Robin, I think-”

“I don't care!” Robin’s hands were shaking. “This is his fault! I want him out, right now! Or I swear to God, Wayne, I'm going to kill him.”

Wayne glanced back at Jeff, who was the perfect picture of confusion. “Jeff, take Eddie into the hall.”

“What-”

“Don't ask questions right now,” Wayne said sternly with a shake of his head. “Just take him to the hall. I'll be out in a moment.”

As soon as the door shut behind them, and Jeff had led Eddie a little ways from the room, he finally snapped. His knees gave out from underneath him, and Jeff was the only thing holding him up as he sobbed.

This was all his fault. He killed Steve.

First his mom, now the love of his life. It was all his fault.

-----

taglist: @mugloversonly @djohawke @acowardinmordor @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @slowandsteddie @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @canmargesimpson @captainoliimar @ilikeititspretty

#gloomysoup #gloomysoup writes #gloomysoup ao3 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steddie angst #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steve harrington angst #rockstar!eddie munson #tw: drug abuse #tw: overdose

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rose-pearls · 10 months

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Bigger Than The Whole Sky

I was reading something online about the song 'Bigger than the whole sky' from Taylor Swift, and people speculate that it is about a miscarriage. I started writing a story about it but I have never had a miscarriage before so if there is anything that is wrong or offensive please tell me and I will take this down.

Warnings: miscarriage, angst

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021 (open for every fandom)

The sun was shining, which was perhaps the biggest contradiction after what had just happened.

He was trying to keep it together, he was, but the doctor’s words were still ringing in his head.

“There was a miscarriage. I’m sorry for your loss.”, the words had been cold like he had told them thousands of times and couldn’t feel them anymore. Like he couldn’t tell how much his words would hurt and haunt them.

She hadn’t said anything, she had just looked in the distance, like looking at the wall would give her some reassurances he couldn’t give her.

He didn’t know how to help her, she seemed fine when you just looked at her, but he could see the pain in her eyes, the disbelief every time she rubbed her lower stomach where the baby had been, their baby.

He didn’t know how to react himself; he tries to stay strong for her, but it was getting harder and harder as he didn’t get an answer out of her. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t read her, help her as she was too far for him to save her from herself.

Everything was numb, like nothing had happened but something had happened.

She had lost their child, her body had given up and had made her lose the one thing that could perhaps save her marriage, save her. She felt empty, running her hand across her small bump that had started appearing two weeks ago.

There were no tears, she was numb ever since she felt the blood fall down her legs after her shower.

They had rushed to the hospital, and they had quickly taken her into an emergency surgery.

When she woke up, the baby was gone, and she was faced with the fact that she had miscarried.

Maybe it was because she didn’t pray, maybe this was a punishment for every single wrong thing she had ever done in her entire life. Now she wished that her parents had taken her to church, maybe it would have saved her child.

She knew that Jake was worried, he deserved better than this, but she couldn’t find it in herself to talk with him. The only thing running through her mind are the scenario’s she imagined throughout her four months of pregnancy, a little girl or boy running around with Jake in the garden. You could hear the laughter as you closed your eyes, but it faded away just as fast as it came.

“Why don’t we go take a walk? The nurse needs to clean the room.”, Jake says softly, and you want to tell him that you don’t want to, but in the end, you know that you don’t have a choice.

“Sure. Why don’t you go to the cafeteria, and I’ll join you there.”, he looks sad at your words, but you try to ignore it, instead focusing on counting how many steps you would have to take before you could come back.

The nurse comes in a few minutes later and you take a deep breath before leaving the room. The hallway is quiet and as you take the shortest route to the cafeteria you don’t realize where you are until you hear a little cry.

There is a nurse walking while holding a newborn, who is wrapped in a little blanquettes before being taken into the nursery.

The babies are all there, lined up in little cots their little eyes closed all bundled up in a small blanquette.

You don’t even realize that you have taken a step forward, to see them better, or that your vision is blurry now.

A little boy, you presume, yawns, and a tear falls down your cheek at the sight, your hand moving to your stomach.

“Which one is yours?”, a voice asks behind you and you turn around, trying to blink the tears away.

“The – the baby isn’t there.”, you tell the woman who is looking at the babies with a tender smile.

“You?”, you manage to say, without your voice breaking over the words.

“Rosie, the little girl on the left.”, she says with a proud smile, and you know that she will be an excellent mother. The little Rosie is fast asleep, and she looks like she isn’t a week old.

“She is beautiful.”, the woman smiles kindly before her husband arrives and she leaves you with a goodbye, to which you don’t respond.

He finds her there, tears sliding down her cheeks as she watches the babies in the nursery. He wants to slap himself for not thinking of that sooner but for the first time since the news she seems to be feeling something.

“Sweetheart?”, she turns around and he can see her trembling hand holding onto her stomach as if she is hoping that the baby will still be there.

He is just in time to catch her before she crashes on the floor, a sob leaving her lips as he holds her tightly.

Her sobs ricochet on the walls and he holds her tighter, only realizing that he is crying when he feels her hair getting wet. He sobs with her, holding her to his chest hoping that he could ever fill in the void that has been left. They hold each other in a deserted hallway, the nursery next to them, reminding them just of what they lost.

“I’m sorry.”, she whispers, and Jake feels confused for a moment.

“I’m so sorry.”, she says before a sob leaves her lips and Jake feels sick at the apology, like it’s her fault.

He moves slowly, and as her tearstained cheeks and red eyes look back at him, he takes her cheeks in his hands and look at her.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault, do you hear me? It. Is. Not. Your. fault.”, he says the words like the prayers he used to say in church, only this time he truly believed the words he told her. Tears leave her eyes and roll down her cheeks, but he rubs them away.

“Maybe I could have done something, do better.”, she whispers brokenly, and Jake feels his heart break at the words.

“You couldn’t have done anything. You did everything you could, you aren’t at fault.”, she closes her eyes and takes a deep shaky breath.

“You don’t hate me?”, she whispers, and Jake feels like someone had slapped him.

“I could never hate you sweetheart, god knows how much I love you. I love you more and more every day, through thick and thin I’m here by your side. I know that this is hard, that we will need time to recover from this, but it doesn’t have an effect on my love for you.”, she brings him closer, and Jake feels tears running down his cheeks, desperately hoping that he has gotten through her and that she knows just how much he loves her.

“Thank you.”, she whispers, and he holds her tightly, hoping that he never has to let her go.

“I don’t know what to do.”, she confesses after a moment and Jake lets out a shaky breath and he takes a look at the babies fast asleep in the nursery.

“Me neither but we are going to do this together. Day by day and step by step together. There will be hard days and good days, but we are in this together.”, she nods in answer, and he brings her into a hug, holding her close as he feels her tears on his shirt.

They stand there holding each other, watching the nurses walking around the nursery and the babies fast asleep. It would be hard, but they had each other and together they would get through this.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you

#top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine

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oraclekleo · 11 months

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[18+] Pick-A-Pile: Ultimate Future Spouse Tarot Reading (PART 2)

Hello, my dear followers and random visitors of this blog of mine! Some (LOOOONG) time ago I promised a detailed and wholesome Pick-A-Pile tarot reading on your Future Spouse. This has originated in the fact I have received so many pretty repetitive Future Spouse requests that instead of doing the same type of reading 20 times, I decided to turn it into a PAC reading. Sorry to everyone who requested the future spouse reading but I’m sure you can choose one of the piles. I have made 6 piles which is a bit too long for Tumblr so this PAC reading is going to come in two parts. Make sure to treat them as if they were one reading. Remember this is still a general reading. Take what resonates with you personally, the rest was probably not meant for you. I have included physical appearance traits. And again not all of the aspects will apply to your future spouse. Dismiss the ones that don’t sound like your type. In case you need any further clarification, don’t be shy to contact me through DM or inbox or my email. If you don’t reach out to me, I will consider all your future spouse requests completed.

Disclaimer:

All of my tarot readings have purely entertainment nature

Tarot isn’t an exact science, I can never ever guarantee any of what’s said in a reading

Tarot isn’t a law or dogma to follow. You have a free will to decide no matter what the cards say.

Never make life decisions based on tarot only.

This is a general reading, take what resonates.

PART 1: PILES 1 - 2 - 3

PART 2: PILES 4 - 5 - 6

PILE 04 - AH PUCH

Cards: Rune Hagalaz, 7th Mansion - Visitor (The Moon Oracle), Child: Eternal (Archetype Cards), 17. Minotaur (Deep, Dark & Dangerous Oracle), Jellyfish (Wild Mystic Oracle), 22. Dhumavati (Kali Oracle), Knight of Coins, 8 of Swords, 10 of Swords (Vlad Dracula Tarot), 6 of Water / Cups, XV Corruption / The Devil, 5 of Water / Cups (Dark Goddess Tarot)

First of all, my dear Pile 4, what the hell possessed you to actually pick a pile with a Mayan demon of death who doesn’t even wait for people to die but just emerges at night and hunts them? What do you expect from a reading on your future spouse when you pick such a pile? You have been warned.

Death, pain, grieve, suffering - those are the main themes of this reading, they tinted all the cards here. Dear Pile 4, your future spouse is a person who has been through a lot! And I mean terrible stuff. They grew stronger and more powerful than you can imagine through overcoming all the loses, pain, suffering and misfortune they encountered in life. They aren’t bright and smiley all the time, they don’t come to cheer you up. They have seen things, they know the world we live in is actually worse than any kind of hell human imagination could ever come up with. They have this ‘stay away from me for your own good, you will be hurt’ type of aura. And it’s probably the reason you felt so strongly attracted to them.

It’s very likely that ever since the very first meeting, my dear Pile 4 you felt strongly pulled towards your future spouse, despite them being nothing like your ideal type. You could see they weren’t good for you, your friends, family, coworkers, postman, supermarket cashier and random people told you to stay away from this person. But you couldn’t.

Your future spouse is probably not an easy person to deal with. They have moods, like bad types of moods. While they are mostly extremely efficient, they can sometimes become just so selfish and immature it could drive anybody crazy. While the fact they suffered in life could teach them more compassion, they actually got their hearts hardened. If they could survive all they have been through, they don’t understand why all those people whine over such pesky little issues. Your future spouse might come as cruel, cold and merciless at times. They don’t really suffer fools or weak people gladly. They have high standards.

Your future spouse, my dear Pile 4, is a person with deep bleeding wounds in their soul. Those might never heal and you should know it. They might feel like outcasts in social groups, they might feel like they don’t really belong to this world chasing after happiness and positivity.

I mentioned it before that right from the very beginning you felt strongly attracted to this person, dear Pile 4. Let me tell you a secret. They felt exactly the same, even more, despite the fact that they would rather die than tell you about their moments of weakness. You turned their life upside down and they surely tried to resist you in the beginning. Once you both sort of accepted you were meant for each other, the passion arised ever so strongly. You are probably one of those couples people are at awe about why you are still together. Your future spouse probably doesn’t show much kindness or even respect to you in public but behind closed doors they become a fierce beast in the sheets. You two can go non-stop for days. Your future spouse is definitely a dom and they will not allow you to take charge, ever. On the other hand their skills and the pure enthusiasm and excitement they put into the sexual act are more than sufficient plaster to your ego. Your future spouse is a person who probably uses sex to vent, to release tension, to set themselves free, to forget about all the pain and anguish. And it means it’s really intense with them. Notice there’s Scorpion on the Hagalaz rune. Your future spouse is likely to have at least some Scorpio placements in their chart.

You and your future spouse, Pile 4, have an unusual relationship. People will never get it, to be honest with you. You are likely dependent and addicted to each other on multiple levels. Your relationship might get twisted and toxic at certain times but then again I see transformation and growth in your cards so from those bottoms of toxic hell you are able to rise and rebuild your connection to become stronger and more powerful. Your future spouse isn’t really romantic, they are hard to read, they probably like to use sarcasm a lot, they might be cynical and total assholes. If you picked this pile, you probably don’t mind. You like the challenge that comes with this relationship. You are willing to kick your spouse’s butt when they cross the line. You don’t care about celebrating your birthdays or anniversaries and you won’t mind your spouse forgetting about them because you probably don’t remember their birthday either. There are power couples and then there’s you and your spouse - the psycho power couple.

Your future spouse, dear Pile 4, is likely successful in business. They have some (many) aspects of psychopathic personality which probably got them far in their career. Maybe they are not loved by their employees, coworkers or random citizens, but they are respected and feared. Their way to the top was probably a slow and well calculated one and your future spouse is a person who secures their position and wealth.

All in all, if you have picked this pile, you are the type of person who sees all the red flags and thinks it’s carnival.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

PILE 05 - LUGH

Cards: Panther (The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Oracle), 2. Passion (Sexual Magic Oracle), Black Elder (The Wisdom of Tree Oracle), Rune Mannaz, 10 of Swords, 9 of Wands, 6 of Wands (The Runic Tarot), 10 of Cups, 4 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles (The Light Seer’s Tarot), 2 of Cups, VI The Lovers, Queen of Cups (Erotic Fantasy Tarot), 7 of Wands (The Slavic Legends Tarot)

Hello Pile 5 and let me tell you that your future spouse is the human embodiment of a panther. They have suave in them, both elegance and well-controlled power in them. When they enter the room, the conversation stops. Maybe they aren’t the most handsome person in the world, they might actually be far from it but they do have an attractive vibe to them like a wild cat in a jungle.

Your future spouse, my dear Pile 5, is a hard working and determined type of person, they know nothing comes for free in life and they are prepared to face challenges with spark in their eyes, to fight all theirs (and some of yours) battles with victorious roar and to never back away. This person is an alpha male, no matter whether they actually are a male. They work hard and party even harder. They know how to take what they want and how to celebrate their victories. The moment they decided you are going to become their spouse there was no other alternative for them and they probably chased after you and hunted you down just like a leopard taking its prey down - lurking from the trees and jumping at you, ambushing, surprising, completely disarming you with their courage and charm. I can also see that they might have been a reason for your other relationship to end. They simply stole you away from your previous lover, shamelessly and with an endearing cringe on their face. If they haven’t made you break up with someone, they probably offered you to leave your town, family, friends and community and go with them to start somewhere else. One way or another, the bridges have been burned.

Your future spouse, Pile 5, is a person of abundance. They are bigger than life. They are manoeuvring through emotions and relationships easily because they have a secret trick - they actually love people. In the most basic and simple way, they like human beings and they respect them. Despite being an alpha male type, they love women. They are always supportive, standing for their rights, pushing them towards their greatness, encouraging them. And not only women. Minorities of all kinds. They truly believe every person should become the best version of themselves and they will always offer their help and support.

I can see a lot of good health in the cards. Your future spouse might be interested in a healthy lifestyle or maybe they are naturally blessed with strong constitution and immunity. They might be sporty, they do like to move a lot and have fun. If they don’t play sports, they might like to go hiking. They are probably fabulous dancers as they have a natural rhythm in their moves. Your future spouse is more likely a dog person than a cat person, despite their panther nature.

It all sounds good so let’s focus on their chemistry with you and their sexual characteristics. If you are worried, Pile 5, that your panther turns into a hibernating bear in bed, worry no more. Your future spouse is a passionate lover. They truly enjoy the full spectrum of activities - they enjoy chasing you during courting, they enjoy seducing you, they absolutely love kissing and making out and they are absolutely unmatchable when it comes to sex. Your future spouse is an avid and fun lover. They are willing to try anything. They are likely physically fit so they can go for even some more acrobatic or risky performances which might be hazardous for cardiacs. For you it means fireworks nearly every single time. And because your future spouse is an open minded and encouraging person, you can dominate them if you want. They will have no issues whatsoever. They are likely to be a bratty and teasing sub for you. You have one of the most easygoing and natural and fun chemistry in between you.

When it comes to your future spouse’s professional life, I see a lot of abundance. They certainly didn’t inherit their wealth, they worked hard to get where they are and they know their journey isn’t over yet. They might even have tendencies towards workaholism. They probably work with people but in a way that’s honest (not a politician type). If that’s not their case, I can see them working manually as well. I mean a sexy lumberjack comes to my mind but it can be anything from builder to factory owner. A random idea came into my mind that they could work in the automotive industry.

In summary, your future spouse, pile 5, is one excellent piece of human species. Your friends are likely to envy you. No matter how many bridges you have to burn in order to straddle this stallion, it’s gonna be worth it.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

PILE 06 - THOTH

Cards: Principles (The Moon Oracle), Venus in Leo, Venus in Cancer (Oracle of the Radiant Sun), Ran (Legendary Ladies Oracle), Solitude (Sacred Destiny Oracle), Capricorn (Heavenly Bodies Astrology Oracle), Stay True & Be in Your Power (Isis Oracle), Knight of Wands, 9 of Cups, IV The Emperor (Animal Totem Tarot), 2 of Wands, XX Judgement, 8 of Swords (Ancient Egyptian Tarot)

Here we go with the last of the piles. And let me tell you that your future spouse, my dear Pile 6, is the most well balanced and mature out of all of them. This is the husband and father material one, this is the one person you want to introduce to your parents, the one person you want to marry since day 1, the one person you can picture yourself having a home full of kids with because this person is reliable and grown and stable.

My dear Pile 6, your future spouse is someone of deep integrity and dignity. They don’t bend their backs nor heads but they stay humble and respectful. They have inner peace and power, they know their worth and their place in life. They might be significantly older than you or just really mature mentally. Your future spouse is a person of composure. Nothing really gets to them, they don’t lose nerves, they don’t need to raise their voice and yet they have respect and are honoured by those who know them. This is the good-king type of a person, they deeply care for everyone in their community, they lead by example, they are deeply moral and fair and loyal.

Your future spouse, pile 6, is the type of person who looks at obstacles and instead of losing hope, they focus on finding a solution. Your future spouse is a person with plan and vision, they don’t do things blindly, they come prepared and ready to the table. While they might face difficulties in life, they stick to their truth, they don’t fall for false promises, they don’t sell their soul to the devil just for the benefits of it. They would rather take the longer rocky path towards just success than to take dishonest shortcuts.

Your future spouse, Pile 6, might sometimes have arrogant tendencies and rarely become egoistic. They are a hard working and highly focused and efficient personality and it comes with a certain ego. They always have everyone's best interest in mind, though.

Your future spouse, Pile 6, is very family oriented and they love children and will very likely start a family with you as soon as you feel like it. They don’t mind dropping their seriousness and play with children on their level, they can be rather warm towards them. On the other hand, your future spouse needs time for themselves as well. They might need moments of solitude to declutter their mind, to rejuvenate their brain and detangle their thoughts. Your future spouse might like to attend solitary hobbies like fishing, gardening or even mountain climbing. They like to feel a connection with nature and hold something solid in their hands, an outcome of their hobby, be it a fish, tomato, blistered skin on their fingers or a bowl they made during their pottery classes. Your future spouse might insist on attending their hobby on their own and you need to understand it’s not because they wouldn’t love you, it’s simply their way of detoxing.

Speaking of your intimate life, your future spouse, Pile 6, is more on a traditional side when it comes to sex. They might feel better in a traditional role. You should know your future spouse is an extremely affectionate and romantic person. They bring flowers, take you to restaurants, they love all the glamour and comfort. They might even be a bit flashy during the courtship phase but in a marriage they just rain praises on you. But be aware they expect you to return the favour and praise and flatter them often. Complimenting them on anything will make them purr like a kitten. They will always notice you have changed your hairstyle, that you have a new dress or that you started to use a differently smelling shampoo - and they will show interest and flood you with compliments. Your future spouse is the type to kiss your hand, open doors for you and come to rescue when someone harasses you.

You two are the couple that was meant to be, you're the match made in heaven, you might even feel like you used to be lovers in your past lives. You understand each other on the most intimate level. You can just sit next to each other never speaking a single word and you still can tell what your spouse thinks. There’s a deeply running bond in between you and your spouse which can’t be easily broken. This marriage is a dream coming true for the both of you. It ascended your lives to another level and made you feel whole and complete.

When it comes to your future spouse’s career, they are likely to be either loyal to one company for life or I can sense a family business being passed from father / mother to son / daughter here. If your future spouse runs a family business, they are extremely loyal to the tradition of it, they probably know all the employees by name and they will teach their own children how to run the business from a young age. Reputation means a lot to your future spouse and they won’t risk it.

All in all, congratulations to you for picking the husband material pile.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

See the rest of the piles in PART 1 of this reading.

Please, remember that this tarot reading is purely for fun. Thank you.

Let me know what pile you picked 😊

Consider supporting me on KO-FI

#pick a pile reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #pac #pac tarot #tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #free tarot readings #free tarot #love tarot #love tarot free #love tarot reading #future spouse #tarot future spouse #oracle kleo

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mellkellyismyhero · 1 year

Text

Jonathan Stroud and Kipps

You know, as a kid reading Lockwood and Co., I LOVED Lucy, George, Lockwood, and Holly. They were all my age! Every time a new book came out I’d imagine Lucy was growing up with me.

But that meant that I didn’t have much of a connection with Kipps, who was kind of L&Co.’s punching bag (affectionate). I liked him, but I never loved him the way I loved everyone else.

Now, I’m older than L&Co. Reading the books and watching the show feels like revisiting my younger self. I was expecting to love the L&Co. trio dynamic- and I did! But one thing I really wasn’t expecting was my newfound appreciation for Kipps.

Jonathan Stroud’s decision to focus on Kipps’ transition from brilliant teen agent to terrified, washed-up adult... It didn’t speak to me as a kid because I was too busy identifying with how cool Lucy’s Talent was. But now that I’m in Kipps’ age range, I identify with Kipps a lot more over Lucy. I can’t really put it in words- this is probably going to be the first of many posts of me spewing emotions and love for Jonathan Stroud’s writing skill- but I’m going to try.

Minor Kipps-related spoilers for L&Co. books under the cut.

Kipps, in the show and books, is 20-22 years old. He’s college-aged. And he cannot do the one thing that he has trained his entire life for, and needs to adjust to that. As a kid, I just kind of saw that as the same kind of “kids rule, adults drool” thing that happens in all kids adventure stories. Can’t have the responsible adults ruining the kids’ fun!

But Kipps was unusual in that you get to SEE him go from ‘competent rival agent’ to ‘technically a useless adult’. He’s straddling the line in the way that other series, where kids get to have magic because they’re good and pure or whatever don’t.

The thing is, it would’ve been easy for Kipps to be forgotten. Just let him fade into the background and never be mentioned again after book 2. But he’s there in book 3, and 4, and 5, still doing his best to fight ghosts even if he can’t see them. As a kid, I was just like ‘huh, okay, that’s a choice’ and kind of ignored him. Who cares what Kipps is doing when Lucy and Holly are having an epic argument that’s going to bring a million ghosts down on their heads?

As an adult, I LOVE that Stroud chose to keep Kipps around. I love that Kipps found a new way to keep fighting (the goggles). I love that Kipps kind of became a member of Lockwood and Co. I love that Stroud made the readers and the characters confront the reality that one day our beloved main characters would lose their Talents too, that even Lucy would go deaf one day, instead of just ignoring the generous but very real time limit the characters had hanging over their heads.

(Side note: part of my love for this series might be stemming from my complicated feelings about the Seven Wonders book series, where a kid is told he has less than a year to live and will likely spend months in debilitating pain and then... spends that year fucking around looking for magical artifacts and not actually having any kind of physical consequences for LITERALLY HAVING A DEADLY ILLNESS-)

Anyway.

Kipps is fantastic. The way he represents the inevitable future of Lockwood and Co... the way he represents the thousands of other agents who grew too old to sense ghosts and couldn’t keep fighting even if they wanted to... the way that he tries so hard to keep the kids he’s in charge of alive but can’t because he’s only one person and he’s losing his Talent...

He’s going through such a major transition and doesn’t know what his place in the world is anymore, and honestly, what early-twenties person does? There’s something there about Talents and childhood trauma and taking your first few steps into adulthood without the tools that saved your life as a child because they don’t work anymore...

In conclusion: Kipps was an amazing character, and I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate him sooner.

#quill kipps #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #l&co. netflix #l&co #l&co netflix #l&co.#mine #quill kipps appreciation

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lance-space-mommy · 25 days

Text

Cleaning Out The Refridgerator

Izuku never knew a life without his mother. It was always Inko and Izuku against the world. Izuku never once met his father Hisashi and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Inko was everything Izuku needed and without her being at the forefront of his life, he’d never become the person he was. It was all thanks to his mother.

Inko died at the age of sixty. It was out of the blue and she had died of a heart attack. Izuku was only thirty-five. The day he got the call his mother had died was the worst day of his life.

His hero work kept him busy and he rarely got days off. Whenever Izuku managed to get the time, he’d always have dinner dates with his mother. It was clear Inko had appreciated those little moments together.

They’d cook together, catch up on life, and just cuddle for hours. They felt like the time they shared always slipped away and those moments felt so short even if they spent the whole day together.

Izuku and Katsuki got married at the young age of 20. They didn’t want to waste a moment and desired to experience all life had to offer.

When they were sixteen, they watched the other die. They knew how fragile and short life could be. Death was promised and they wanted to enjoy the life they had left.

Holidays and celebrations were always a grand event. Inko and Mitsuki would often hang out together, but having their family members join them for a party was an exhilarating experience. Every day, every moment, was lived to the fullest.

Izuku could say there was so much more he wished he could have experienced with his mother, but he was satisfied with the time he did have with his mother.

It didn’t make things any better, but having no regrets was something that made Izuku grieve his loss without any guilt laced with it. Izuku could miss the amazing woman Inko was and miss his perfect mother.

For months, Izuku was inconsolable. Katsuki did everything in his power to help Izuku through Inko’s death, but he couldn’t imagine the pain Izuku was going through. Katsuki loved Inko dearly, but he didn’t know what it was like to lose his mother. Katsuki didn’t even want to imagine a life without Mitsuki.

It was a random Friday when Mitsuki had invited Izuku over to have some tea and talk. It was nice to just talk to someone who cherished Inko just as much.

Mitsuki was crying, hugging Izuku. “I ran out of her pickled daikon radish! I don’t know what to do!”

Izuku paused, feeling something click in his mind. Even if Inko was no longer with him, there was something she did that no random person in the world could mimic. Inko’s cooking and baking were inimitable. The only person on the planet who could make Inko’s recipe was Izuku.

Izuku pulled back, his hands resting on Mitsuki’s shoulders. “I’ll make you some!”

Mitsuki’s eyes widen, blinking away her tears in surprise. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes, I’d love to make it for you,” reassured Izuku, his face filled with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mitsuki seemed to melt, relief flooding her. “Thank you, Izuku. I can’t wait to taste it!”

Izuku grinned, quickly hugging Mitsuki again. “You won’t be able to tell I made it, trust me.”

The next day rolled around and a beautiful Saturday greeted Izuku. Izuku threw himself up and took over the kitchen. The windows were opened and the morning breeze lulled Izuku into a peaceful rhythm.

The sunlight warmed his skin, matching the warmth his heart felt while making the same food Inko happily prepared him when he was a child.

Katsuki walked over and instantly spotted the mess. Shaking his head with a small smile, Katuski made his way over. Wrapping his arms around Izuku’s waist, Katsuki pressed a tender kiss to Izuku’s temple. “What are you getting into?”

“Just cleaning out the fridge,” fibbed Izuku, knowing Katsuki wasn’t going to buy it.

“Sure and I’m not your husband,” remarked Katsuki, giving Izuku a gentle squeeze.

Izuku sat down the knife before turning around to hug Katsuki. “I’m making some pickled radish for your mother.”

Katsuki paused before a look of recognition crossed his face. “She’s probably over the moon knowing you can keep supplying her addiction. She’s obsessed with Inko’s pickled food for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I was so depressed I forgot that I can remake all the foods my mom made by heart,” chuckled Izuku, snuggling into Katsuki’s secure hold.

“Anything I can do to help?” questioned Katsuki, knowing the answer was going to be no, but he wanted to check anyway.

Izuku shook his head before pecking Katsuki on the lips. “Nope. This is quick and easy to make.”

Katsuki nodded before releasing Izuku. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Within thirty minutes, Katsuki heard a loud thumping in the kitchen. Rushing out, Katsuki watched as Izuku jumped in place, filled with excitement as he was chewing. Katsuki sank in relief upon witnessing the childlike joy written in Izuku’s expression and bouncing.

Izuku spotted Katsuki staring and quickly shoved the pickled radish into Katsuki’s mouth. Katsuki immediately could tell why Izuku was so excited. The crunchy yellow radish tasted exactly like the kind he had eaten his entire life. It was identical to Inko’s.

Izuku knew that if he kept making food that tasted identical to his mother’s, he’d never stop eating. If food was how he planned to keep his mother alive, he’d happily eat each meal like it would be his last.

“Good job, Izuku. It’s perfect,” complimented Katsuki, diving in for more.

“It’s so wonderful,” cried Izuku, following his husband's lead and eating more.

Inko may be gone, but for the rest of Izuku’s life, he’d never have to live a day without her beautiful, one-of-a-kind meals. Inko showed her love through food and Izuku would forever be grateful that homemade meals will forever be their thing. Even after death.

#izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha deku #mha fanfiction #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bkdk #mha bkdk #inko midoriya #mitsuki bakugou #tw death #midoriya x bakugou #future au

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 5 months

Text

Hand.

Word Count: 800

Characters: Shanks, Benn

Warnings: Brief talking of phantom limb syndrome.

Author's Notes: @/huyandere posted This Amazing Art earlier and it gave me brain worms about Shanks and his arm. Thanks. <3

Shanks lost his dominant hand.

That’s the first thing that he has to come to terms with, really. That he did, indeed, lose his dominant hand. Arm, really- not just the hand. The Neptunian did a number on him, but then again, he’s lucky, isn’t he? To have just lost the arm, not the side of his torso, nor the child who he had foolishly protected because for one reason or another, he liked Luffy. This scrappy, chaotic child who had survived so much already, who he saw so much promise in even if it scared him half to death to imagine him on the seas one day.

He lost his dominant arm.

The healing process was difficult. Hell, having a limb suddenly amputated wasn’t something you did every day, after all. The poor village doctor nearly had a damn heart attack looking at his arm. Benn had cried- shed actual tears over his arm in private, holding him close to his chest, whispering about how he’d failed him as a first mate.

(He hadn’t failed. Shanks just acted without thinking. That was his fault; he had always been a touch too impulsive, even as a kid).

So he’d lost his arm.

It took months of healing before even thinking about leaving. An open wound like that on the sea was simply asking for gangrene to set in, or for the flesh to grow infected with Gods know what, for him to take ill suddenly and oh, Gods, he couldn’t imagine how bad that could be! He loved his former captain, but he didn’t want to follow in his footsteps of getting sick.

He had to learn how to use his right arm.

His sword had been a custom, made for him to wield it left-handed. Gryphon was the blade’s name. A strong saber, custom made to have a longer than average blade length to it. Green hilt; beige guard. The weight was off for his right arm, he was sloppy with the way he waved it about. For a while, he thought that he was simply doomed to never wield a sword again.

(He couldn’t fight Mihawk like this, couldn’t even think about looking him in the eyes after this accident. How could he take him, now? Not one handed, not like this.)

Practice. Stamina training. Relearning how to draw his blade without cutting into his own hip. (And oh, the scars that lay on his right hip now from countless injuries done by practicing with Gryphon rather than a wooden blade at first, like an idiot.) It took well into a year before he was able to keep his balance again. Able to walk across the ship while waves rocked against the hull and not tip himself over with his inability to hold himself up.

The worst part was the phantom pains. Not the training- no, Benn and Yasopp kept him on his toes with their training. Soon enough, they were working together once more without issue. The phantom pains are what kept him awake in the night, biting down on his hand or his pillow to muffle the sobs of pain that tore from his throat. It burned, it ached. He could still feel his arm. He could still feel it reaching out. Could swear it was touching his blankets- but no, it wasn’t there. It isn’t there. It will never be there again.

He had to relearn how to write.

He’d had remarkable penmanship prior to this, something that Rayleigh had forced both himself and Buggy to learn. Something about a good pirate had good penmanship? He wasn’t sure; Roger was never bothered with it, his own writing had been chicken scratch. But he had good handwriting.

Not anymore.

Looking at the parchment, he felt a wave of anger crash over him. He almost- almost- swept the contents of his desk to the floor before he caught himself. No use in that, really. Ink was expensive. Parchment- good parchment at that- even more so. So, he sat down, and started once again. A, B, C, D- the entire alphabet. His hand shook as he held the quill; it ached in his fingers, this odd form of writing. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it- he would do it, Benn reminded him, leaning his hip against his desk. He would do it, because he needed to. He would do it, because he wanted to. He would do it.

He did.

The first letter was wobbly written, looking more apt for a ten year old rather than a man who had just turned thirty-two. The lines weren’t straight, the script tilting down towards the right side of the paper despite his best efforts.

“Dear Buggy,

ㅤ⠀I am writing to you

ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀once again.

ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀Hope this letter

ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀Finds you well…”

#one piece #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #buggy the clown #benn beckman #shuggy #listen Benn makes like two appearances okay #but also their shuggy art gives me fucking life and I adore it so much & their art style #I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND PEOPLE WRIITNG FICS BASED ON YOUR ART AAAAAAAAAA-

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robininthelabyrinth · 10 months

Note

Ah, this is invisible_cities from ao3 - dropping off a plot bunny I mentioned in a comment on 'No Complaints' as requested, since you considered it intriguing and didn't want to lose the idea. It went: I keep being haunted by this kernel of an idea, an AU in which LQR&JC -Done Uncles(TM) - have a (political) reason to Swear Brotherhood. Especially if it meant seeing the reactions of LQR's nephews AND LXC's sworn brothers. I think Nie Minjue might actually approve, as you write him.

Convenient Brotherhood - ao3

“You would make a good teacher.”

Jiang Cheng froze, abruptly overcome with a wave of hideous embarrassment, then a moment later with a wave of self-disgust for having felt that embarrassment. It wasn’t as if he were doing anything shameful, after all.

He’d only been showing the newest set of Jiang disciples the basic forms that they would need to know in order to build their foundation in the Jiang sect’s sword style. It was one of the most basic duties of a sect. Although it was normally done by an instructor, rather than the sect leader directly, even Jiang Cheng’s father had occasionally stepped in to show the children how it was done. There was nothing embarrassing about doing what he was doing at all.

It was only – being perceived, he supposed.

He turned and tried to salute, saying, “Teacher Lan –”

Lan Qiren stopped him, catching his arm and pulling him upwards, his hand seeming to Jiang Cheng’s perception to be blazing hot where it touched his skin. “I have already told you to stop with that,” he chided, though quite gently, and that hot feeling spread over the rest of Jiang Cheng’s skin, right up to his neck. “It has already become tiresome, and you can’t keep it up forever, now that I am staying here.”

Yes.

There was – that.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to think about that. On why Lan Qiren was now residing in the Lotus Pier, the length of his stay indeterminate, lasting until…

Until nothing. Jiang Cheng wasn’t thinking about it.

“How is Jin Ling doing?” he asked instead, because it was easier. Jin Ling was still a baby, in need of tremendous care, and in all honesty Lan Qiren’s presence had been a godsend in that regard – the Jiang sect needed care, too, as needy as an infant going through growing pains as Jiang Cheng tried to help it settle into its rightful position as a Great Sect, and there were only so many hours in a day. He was already being torn to pieces by his obligations. He couldn’t even imagine the damage it might do to him if he were trying to take care of both Jin Ling and his sect, all on his own, unsupported by anyone, least of all –

Wait, no, he wasn’t thinking about that.

“Quite well. He’s just realized he can wave around his toys on his own,” Lan Qiren said, accepting the change of subject gracefully, just as he always did. “He was quite proud of his great accomplishment.”

Just like his peacock of a father, Jiang Cheng wanted to say, but his throat closed up. It had only been a few months, no more than half a year, since – since Jiang Yanli – since she had…since Jin Ling was orphaned.

By all rights, Jin Ling ought to be right now in Lanling City, being cared for by his paternal relatives, but Jin Zixuan’s death had overturned a hornet’s nest there, and even Madame Jin, for whom Jin Ling was now her sole purpose in life, didn’t think it was a good idea to risk keeping him there. Accordingly to Lanling Jin custom, the child was typically raised by the mother for the first few years of life, then handed over to the father to be educated. So, with Jin Ling lacking both mother and father, Madame Jin had proposed that Jin Ling be temporarily handed over to Jiang Cheng…

She must have been in a very tough position to have asked for such a thing. Jiang Cheng tried not to think about it, because it meant that he got to keep Jin Ling by his side, got not to be alone. Just him and Jin Ling…and Lan Qiren, now.

It had really only been when Lan Qiren had walked in and plucked a sobbing Jin Ling out of Jiang Cheng’s arms, ordering the frantic and under-slept Jiang Cheng to go get some rest, that Jiang Cheng had remembered all those rumors that made out that it was Lan Qiren that had raised his nephews, even since infancy. From the capable fashion in which he tended to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was inclined to think the rumors were true.

And since there could be no questioning Lan Qiren’s integrity, he didn’t have to worry about entrusting Jin Ling to him. There could be no fear that Lan Qiren was a secret assassin, or bribed by the Jin sect, or – or whatever Jiang Cheng’s paranoid mind had come up with. Admittedly, it was probably a little offensive to use a respected elder like Lan Qiren as a babysitter, but Lan Qiren had never complained.

“You should consider what I said.”

Jiang Cheng shook himself out of his reverie. “What? What you said when?”

“That you would make a good teacher,” Lan Qiren said. He shook out his sleeves and started heading back inside – had he come all the way out to the training yards just to say that? But no, it was getting to be dinner time. He had come to call Jiang Cheng, another thing that no one had asked him to do but which he did, as meticulous and inexorable as the Lan sect rules in all the things he did.

Having someone who remembered that he needed to be called in, that he forgot things like eating and drinking if he was too distracted…Jiang Cheng really shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he did.

It shouldn’t make him as happy as it did.

Jiang Cheng caught up with Lan Qiren, falling into step by his side. “Is this some sort of hint that you changed your mind and would like to start teaching again?” he asked. “I’m sure we could set something up here for you, if you like.”

It wouldn’t be the same as the Cloud Recesses, though. Nothing was ever the same as home.

Jiang Cheng knew that better than most.

“I meant nothing more than what I said,” Lan Qiren said mildly. “I have not varied from my decision not to teach this year. Perhaps when Jin Ling is older, we can reconsider.”

Because Lan Qiren would probably still be here then, Jiang Cheng’s traitorous mind noted. Jin Ling would grow up, and grow older, and eventually return to Lanling Jin to inherit his patrimony, but Lan Qiren would still be here in the Lotus Pier, far away from home, rotting away in a place he didn’t belong –

Lan Qiren cleared his throat pointedly.

“You are letting his thoughts get away from you again, I think,” he said. He sounded amused, of all things. “Shall I recite the rules regarding the importance of mealtimes once again…?”

“Please don’t,” Jiang Cheng said hastily. He’d made the mistake, in the first few days of Lan Qiren’s tenure when Jiang Cheng had been incredibly bitter about how everything had all gone down, of retorting to one of Lan Qiren’s invocations by reminding him that the Lotus Pier was not the Cloud Recesses and so the Lan sect rules did not apply here. It had been unwontedly cruel of him – reminding a man of the home that he’d lost through the actions of others, actions for which Jiang Cheng was in no small part responsible, whether directly or indirectly through others of his sect for whom he bore responsibility – and he’d been deeply ashamed of himself at once.

Lan Qiren, in contrast, had taken it in stride: he had only mildly responded that the Lan sect rules applied not only to the Cloud Recesses but to any person belonging to the Lan sect, no matter where they were, and furthermore that in any place where humanity gathered there were always rules, even when they were unwritten. He had thereafter devoted much of his free time, insofar as such a thing existed, into compiling a set of rules for the Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng had thought the project ridiculous at first, but Lan Qiren was meticulous, in this as with all things, and the first small booklet he had presented to Jiang Cheng had been…

Jiang Cheng hadn’t had any words for how it made him feel, only that he’d urgently needed to excuse himself to hide in his room and cry for a while, but in a good sort of way. The booklet contained not only the first few rules that Lan Qiren proposed, all of which were perfectly in keeping with the Lotus Pier’s tradition and full of good sense besides, but also the basis behind them: the logical arguments both in favor and against, the potential consequences, and most of all the history behind them, gleaned from the dozens of interviews Lan Qiren had conducted among both the few survivors of the Lotus Pier’s massacre and the common people outside their door.

Jiang Cheng treasured each survivor more than gold, but he’d never really known how exactly to ask them, or even what, and he’d never thought about asking the common people at all. To unexpectedly find that they, too, knew the stories of his family, his ancestors, to see the casual anecdotes his father had once, in a rare sharing mood, recited for them over dinner and which Jiang Cheng had nearly forgotten, all written down neatly in a book, something that could be copied and duplicated and remembered into the future…

There were stories in there that even he hadn’t known. Ones his father hadn’t mentioned, or hadn’t had a chance to, stories that his distant cousins, the older ones, recognized with a start that suggested they’d forgotten them, too – even stories about his mother, ones that she’d long ago discarded as embarrassing. Stories that made her appear in his memory, vivid and beautiful and headstrong, simultaneously just as he’d known her and yet also somehow like learning about her for the first time.

There were stories about Jiang Yanli, too. Things Jiang Cheng had never known about her, how she went out among the common people to help them small things within her power, dealing with the little pests and pestilences that accompanied daily life but which would win no one any fame and which most cultivators disdained as a result – even her likes and dislikes, recorded from the mouths of the merchants that had always saved a portion of their wares for her.

Even stories about him –

…anyway, the rules were good. The Jiang sect’s motto might be attempt the impossible, but there was no harm in having some structure. All his new disciples still needed their foundation, after all.

“Do you really think I’d be a good teacher?” Jiang Cheng asked, settling down beside the table. The Lan sect rules generally prohibited speaking during mealtimes, but they hadn’t started yet – Jin Ling still needed to be brought over by his wet nurse, since Lan Qiren insisted that all meals be taken together and Jiang Cheng, who would have Jin Ling in his sight at all times if he could, didn’t disagree. “I think most of my disciples are afraid of me.”

“If being cantankerous were a disqualifier, no one would ever come to me,” Lan Qiren said, and Jiang Cheng had to suppress a snort – the other man’s sense of humor was another thing that had come as a surprise. Lan Qiren was in fact quite strict with his students; it was only now that Jiang Cheng had graduated to being one of his peers that Lan Qiren had allowed him to see the more personable aspects of his character. “Your disciples fear your temper, yes, but they respect and adore you. You will be an excellent teacher.”

“The Jiang sect sword style –”

“Not just that.”

“No?”

“Don’t look down on yourself. You have more to give to the world than just your blood and sweat.”

Jiang Cheng’s hand stole, without his permission, to rest on his stomach, on the stolen golden core that glowed inside of him, inescapable reminder of Wei Wuxian’s sacrifice of which he had been completely ignorant until – until it was very nearly too late. So very nearly. “I don’t know about that.”

It wasn’t a denial, though.

It was…hope, Jiang Cheng supposed. Hope that there might be something he could offer the world that wasn’t his bloodline or his endless years of effort, all of which seemed to turn to dust at once upon the revelation that it had been Wei Wuxian’s talent and sacrifice that had made it all possible. Being a teacher didn’t rely on or even require a golden core, especially if he taught the way Lan Qiren meant – not just swordsmanship, but cultivation, whether of one’s power or one’s mind.

It might be nice to have students, rather than soldiers.

“It’s settled, then,” Lan Qiren said. “We’ll plan out a curriculum for next year.”

As if it were that simple…though now that Jiang Cheng thought about it, why couldn’t it be? He was the sect leader here, with no elders to stand on his shoulders and force him to stop, and he had Lan Qiren, whose fame as a teacher was personal to him rather than generalized to his sect. If they let out that he would be teaching again, people from all over the cultivation world would send their children to learn, even if Jiang Cheng were teaching as well.

Maybe, after a while…

It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere. He couldn’t.

Or, well, he could, technically. There was nothing wrong with Lan Qiren’s legs or his ability to fly a sword, he could walk out any time. But he wouldn’t – not when his presence in the Lotus Pier was one of the pillars that held together the cultivation world. Not when…

“Didi should stop thinking so much,” Lan Qiren said, and Jiang Cheng winced the way he always did when Lan Qiren acknowledged the forced sworn brother relationship between them. “It’s not doing you any good.”

Jiang Cheng snorted. That was true enough. “This is when most people say I ought to get a wife.”

“What would be the point? If you wanted one, you’d have one.”

“The matchmakers –”

“Cannot do anything if the person asking them for help is also purposefully sabotaging their attempts. It’s really no surprise that they’ve banned you for wasting their time.”

Jiang Cheng grumbled a bit at that, but didn’t argue – mostly because the wetnurse had finally come, holding Jin Ling (who was, in fact, beaming at the toy clutched in his hand), and the fact that Lotus Pier didn’t have a rule against speaking at mealtimes meant absolutely nothing if the only two options were the silent Lan Qiren and the unintelligible Jin Ling.

After, Jiang Cheng collected Jin Ling and went with Lan Qiren for a walk through some of the pavilions. They stayed silent for a long while, Lan Qiren picking paths at random – whether he liked after-meal walks for the purposes of digestion or if it was simply another Lan sect habit, Jiang Cheng didn’t know – but then they ended up in front of the empty courtyard that Jiang Cheng had once had built with Wei Wuxian in mind, naively dreaming about the day his right hand would stop with his nonsense and need a place of his own to live, not too far away, so that their children would one day be able to play with each other…

Jiang Cheng turned his face away, his mouth compressing into a hard line as he tried to control himself.

Lan Qiren slowed to a stop as well.

“He’s taken to including notes on the back of Wangji’s letters to me,” he finally said, looking out across the water to avoid eye contact – thoughtful of Jiang Cheng’s dignity, gracious as always. “Since you’re not accepting the ones he writes.”

Jiang Cheng laughed, though the sound of it hurt his throat. “I accept them. I just don’t read them, or reply…what’s the point? Everything that could be said has already been said.”

Lan Qiren frowned, clearly on the verge of disagreeing, but Jiang Cheng got ahead of him for once.

“Aren’t you angry?” The words burst out of his mouth. “Aren’t you – it’s his fault you’re here, instead of at home. At home, with your nephews, with your family…”

“I maintain an extensive correspondence with those members of my family I actually like, and for the first time in my life, I am able to ignore those I do not,” Lan Qiren said, and Jiang Cheng choked on the sheer incongruity of the statement. “I will not deny that it is strange to be here, or to think that I will be here for a long while yet. But my family can visit me, and I them, and things will not remain this way forever.”

“Forever, no. But – still –”

“I do not see it as a burden to be here with you.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth dropped open. Lan Qiren had hit the heart of the matter like a dagger to the chest.

“I have always liked you,” Lan Qiren continued, straightforward and serious and patient, as if it was the first time he was saying those words instead of it being the thousandth repetition – though Jiang Cheng would hear it a thousand times more if he could. “You were a pleasure to teach, and you have not only attempted but achieved the impossible by resurrecting your sect after such devastation. You accomplished that, not Wei Wuxian, and not Wei Wuxian’s golden core; if strength in cultivation were all that were required to lead a Great Sect, we would not be so few in number. Even though the circumstances were not what any of us might have wished, I am pleased to call you my sworn brother.”

He paused – that was where he usually ended this particular recitation – but this time he seemed as though he had more to say. After a moment, he continued.

“I am only regretful that I am not the one you would have wished I be.”

Jiang Cheng had to turn away again, his eyes and nose hot with viciously suppressed tears that had sprung up out of nowhere. It was true, painfully true: it wasn’t supposed to be Lan Qiren that was living here in the Lotus Pier, it wasn’t Lan Qiren that was meant to be Jiang Cheng’s sworn brother.

It should have been Wei Wuxian.

But after Jin Zixuan died and Jiang Yanli died, it hadn’t been Jiang Cheng who had come to Wei Wuxian’s defense against the cultivation world. He’d led the forces that aimed at the Burial Mounds himself, insensate with grief and convinced that Wei Wuxian must have died or lost his soul long ago to have done such terrible things. He’d had some hazy thoughts of being the one to capture him, somehow knock some sense into him, but if he were being honest with himself he knew that it probably wouldn’t have worked out well for either of them if he and the Jin sect had been the first ones to reach the Burial Mounds.

Only – he hadn’t been.

It’d been Lan Wangji that got there first, Lan Wangji that knocked Wei Wuxian out and stole him away along with the rest of the Wen remnants, hiding them all away where the cultivation world wouldn’t ever think to find them. He’d been the one to declare that he and Wei Wuxian had sworn brotherhood with each other, and that that made Wei Wuxian a member of the Lan sect, all but marrying him in as if he were a woman.

(The way his father had, when it had been his bride who was accused…not that anyone outside the Lan sect, and very select others like Jiang Cheng, knew about that.)

Even that stratagem might not have worked, regardless of the Lan sect’s (reluctant) willingness to stand behind Lan Wangji – the cultivation world had pulled back in its confusion and out of respect for the Lan sect’s standing as a Great Sect, but it wouldn’t have lasted very long, not with how angry they were at Wei Wuxian. Only then Wei Wuxian had somehow used the extra few days that Lan Wangji had bought him to figure out that Wen Ning and Wen Qing were not actually dead the way the Jin sect had said he was, only hidden away, and that the supposed attack in Lanling had in fact been of the Jin sect’s own creation, that they’d intentionally incited Wen Ning in order to have a reason to steal Wei Wuxian’s creation and raid the Burial Mounds for his notes, seeking the source of his powers.

Decrying demonic cultivation with one side of their mouth, pursuing it eagerly with the other: the Jin sect had behaved like hypocrites of the first order, and worse, there were rumors that certain small sects that had recently disappeared had not in fact merely scattered or been absorbed into other sects, but turned into experiment fodder for the Jin sect’s vile experiments.

Jin Guangshan, caught with his pants down, had splutteringly tried to exculpate his sect, and when that didn’t work, he cast all the blame on the newly named Jin Guangyao, the bastard child. He’d even blamed him for inciting Jin Zixun to go lay an ambush at the Qiongqi Path, setting up the initial confrontation with Wei Wuxian, and then sending Jin Zixuan out without proper backing, hoping to use Wei Wuxian as a weapon to eliminate the heir that stood in front of him on his way to Jin sect leadership.

He’d offered to have him executed to appease the cultivation world’s anger.

No one had entirely bought the idea of it all being Jin Guangyao’s fault, not really, but it wasn’t as though most of them were in any position to object, not with the Jin sect being one of the few that was still strong after the Sunshot Campaign. Jin Guangshan might have been able to get away with it, if it hadn’t been for Nie Mingjue stepping forward and claiming Jin Guangyao as a member of his sect through their sworn brotherhood, based on the very same precedent that Lan Wangji had just established. It had saved Jin Guangyao’s life and freed him to testify against his father, confirming all those deeply unfortunate rumors and even more…

Really, it was no surprise that Madame Jin didn’t want Jin Ling to be in Lanling City right now.

As for Lan Qiren, the situation had been quite simple. With the Jin sect in turmoil and the Nie sect temporarily disgraced for having willingly taken in a potential fratricide, and moreover Wei Wuxian, the founder of demonic cultivation, now firmly in the hands of the Lan sect, the entire order of the cultivation world had been turned on its head, with the Lan sect standing ascendant above them all.

Only the Jiang sect was out in the dark alone.

Lan Xichen was Nie Mingjue’s younger sworn brother as well, providing the Nie sect with security, and the Jin sect was in no position to demand anything for themselves; only Jiang Cheng and his sect were the losers, now lacking both Wei Wuxian and adding in the additional burden of Jin Ling, and it had been Jiang Cheng’s own foolish decisions that had led him to that point. In order to maintain balance, to keep the cultivation world from fearing another war like the last one, it seemed obvious to everyone that the Lan sect needed to turn over a hostage to the Jiang in order to maintain peace.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t liked that as the answer, but…it was his sect.

It was something he had to do.

He would always do what his sect needed him to do.

But the question arose of who the hostage could be. It had to be someone of the main line, someone important and valuable enough that the sect would be deeply invested in getting them back, and obviously it couldn’t be Lan Xichen, the sect leader. And yet it seemed cruel for it to be Lan Wangji, who had done so much for Wei Wuxian, who loved him so desperately and who, rumors said, was loved in return…

Even Jiang Cheng, who resented Lan Wangji to no end simply because of how soul-scaldlingly jealous he was of him, didn’t have the heart to split them up.

They had been trapped in a seemingly impassible dilemma, and it had been only solved when Lan Qiren had volunteered himself for the task, pointing out that his nephews would be committed to his well-being in just the way that was required; he’d then ignored their protests and swore brotherhood with Jiang Cheng, agreeing to go live in the Lotus Pier for as long as it took the cultivation world to grow steady and peaceful once more, which would probably only happen when Jin Ling reached adulthood and took on his father’s sect as his own. Sworn brotherhood was what it was called, but it was only a mockery of the more genuine connections that had come before – Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who were lovers, and Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, who were…something, anyway. In reality, though, out of all of them, Lan Qiren was the only one who really was nothing more than a hostage.

Lan Qiren had taken it more philosophically than Jiang Cheng had.

“It’s not that,” Jiang Cheng finally forced out through numb lips. “It’s not – I like having you here.”

The confession was true, but that sometimes felt like the worst of it, the worst betrayal he had yet done. Wei Wuxian had given Jiang Cheng everything, even his golden core, a revelation that only came after everything had all been agreed, Wen Qing furiously angry from her near-death experience and lashing out recklessly with the truth as her only weapon, no matter how much she regretted it later. Wei Wuxian had given it all to him, and here was Jiang Cheng, living happily, letting another person fill Wei Wuxian’s shoes, take his place, forcing the role on a person who didn’t even belong here, and being traitorously happy about it all.

After all, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have known what to do with Jin Ling, not the way Lan Qiren did, experienced and confident. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t know all the things Jiang Cheng had never learned about sect leadership, wouldn’t be available as a teacher, as a guide, as a mentor. Wei Wuxian…

Wei Wuxian would never have said I do not see it as a burden to be here with you.

“I am glad,” Lan Qiren said simply.

He even meant it, too.

“I – I can’t –”

“Do not strain yourself. A journey takes a step at a time, you don’t need to rush ahead to the end.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, and looked down at Jin Ling, who’d since fallen asleep, sucking his thumb.

“A teacher,” he finally said, once he’d gotten enough control of himself. He let himself imagine it – not just the actual act of teaching, but the joys behind it: grading papers with Lan Qiren, discussing topics, exchanging anecdotes, rolling their eyes at their juvenile tricks. Even the thought of Jin Ling having more children to play with as he grew up, and a reason to come back every year even after he went back to Lanling… “I could get used to that idea.”

Maybe, one day, he could even bring himself to look at Wei Wuxian’s letters.

Maybe, one day, he could write back.

My family can visit me, and I them, and things will not remain this way forever – that was what Lan Qiren had said. If it was true for him, then why not, maybe, for Jiang Cheng as well?

One day.

Not yet –

But one day.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #last one of the fourth round of prompts!!!#I can finally close the document!#this one can be read as platonic or shippy as people prefer

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