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choibinn3 · 3 years

Text

GET IT TOGETHER, JUNGWON!!

[ four. O_o Yang Jungwonnie ]

series masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * in which jungwon had meant for that love letter to go to yeri, and not you—her bff. for some reason though, he finds that with each moment he spends together with you he's closer and closer to forgetting all about that damn letter.

luv note - chloe moriondo

WRITTEN PORTION. 1.9k words

btw remember that second hand embarrassment tag?? yeahh....

ps. this is bad, very, very bad and cheesy so be warned (its meant to be, but youll still feel pain lol)

—

student council room.

Jungwon could feel his hands clamming up, but he instead urged himself to just swallow down his nerves. For the past week he thought the biggest worry he had was his parents and Student Council work.

Not potentially losing friendships and breaking your heart.

"Jungwon? Are you still there?" your voice asked. It was slightly muffled by the door, but still distinct. "I had to tell Hyuka to go back without me."

You, he remembered. He had to fix this. He had known you since you were both in kindergarten, incidentally somehow being in the same classes up until High School. Still, he didn't know you though.

You were closer than acquaintances, maybe a little less than friends, and definitely not more than people with mutual friends. With everything that had been happening since the Student Council election, he had assumed he'd get closer to you naturally. It just never happened though, but he enjoyed your company when he could.

Yeri on the other hand, he was connected with. Being both Student Council President and Vice President meant they worked together often, and he found himself being drawn to her sweetness. He enjoyed their dynamic and their current friendship.

The way they worked complemented each other, and she always found a way to make him smile—it seemed as though her kindness and generosity knew no bounds. Plus, she related to him in a way none of his other friends did.

Late, after class and after hours, they'd both talk casually while doing paperwork. Jungwon's parents were hardheaded and stubborn people, wanting the best for him and yet stressing him out. They were the whole reason he ran for President in the first place.

He couldn't find it in himself to hate them though.

Yeri was the same, and she supported him throughout all the difficult times he went through because of them. She was soft, so level headed, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably pretty.

They had been partners and friends for a little over a month, and Jungwon was sure he wanted to at least try with her. It was young, new and unfurling feelings, it was something he wanted to find out.

Your energetic personality was charming, but that was all it was. It didn't strike his heart in any particular way. Jungwon was almost 100% sure there was no way Yeri would ever date him after this, but he needed to prioritize your feelings currently.

He just hoped Yeri and him could still be friends afterwards though—because being a liar was the one thing Jungwon wasn't.

"Yeah," he called out, "still here. You can just come back in now."

He watched as you nervously peeled back the sliding door of the clubroom, inching inside to peer at him. You walked closer to stand in front of him, and Jungwon smiled in hopes of easing your anxiousness.

You threw one back, although a bit hesitantly. "Jungwon," you started, twiddling with your fingers. He simply watched—wanting to at least let you talk a bit. Crushing your feelings now would be nothing but brutal. "Honestly, I was really surprised with the letter. Do you... remember back in 3rd grade?"

"No? I'm sorry, I'm not good with memories from Elementary School," the doe-eyed boy replied. He was telling the truth, grade school felt like ages ago and he just hasn't had the time to reminisce on childhood memories.

You held your hands up in a defensive manner. "That's fine! Um, you like... Uhh, how do I say this..." You made gestures with your figures, hoping to convey it to him in one way or another. God, this was dumb.

Jungwon observed silently as you laughed at your own stuttering. Endearing, came to mind. That was cute.

In the Council Room and in class, you were always particularly enthusiastic and excitable. Seeing you bashful was a very different side of you for the black-haired boy.

"I sent you my own love letter once. Like, a long, long time ago, and you sort of rejected me? I think."

"You think?" The boy held back a laugh, but quickly composed himself. He wasn't laughing maliciously, just... how could you be unsure of such a thing? "I'm sorry, but I still don't remember."

"Yeah, that's fine!" You nodded, embarrassed from his almost-chuckle. You did not want to seem like an idiot in front of him today. "Actually, I don't remember much either, but you didn't reply to it."

Jungwon gazed at your brows furrowed from trying to think of more words to say, and suddenly he felt a tonne of guilt fall onto him. His expression grew solemn.

Quick, get it over with, before this would get any worse.

"Look, YN—"

He had to shut his mouth almost immediately.

"What I'm trying to say is—!" You took a deep breath. "I've liked you since then! Since years, and years ago," you finally blurted, closing your eyes as to not see his reaction.

"You're the only one I've ever felt this way towards. I thought once I grew up this warmth would just... go away, but it hasn't and I don't think it will. I was honestly going to just swallow it all down hoping I'd get over it before we graduate, but I couldn't. My feelings were overflowing—I just found myself finding more things about I liked about you instead."

Your goal today was to not embarrass yourself, but to hastily tell him you liked him too before sprinting away. It seemed as though nothing was going to plan so far, for neither of you, actually.

Jungwon was left unable to speak from your surprising declaration. You took that as a sign to continue. Whatever happened next was something for future you to panic over.

"I like your dimples, that smile you make when you're passing by strangers in the hallway, and the way your hair falls when you comb through it. You're admirable in everything you do, truly. The way you help underclassmen, the way you always make sure to assist teachers during your free periods, and how you never seem to complain or get frustrated when we make mistakes."

You had nurtured your feelings for what felt like forever. Even when you were technically rejected back then, and even now. At first, you thought that he would be a passing crush from when you were a kid—but he wasn't. He grew into his own so much so that you found yourself admiring his leadership, compassion and thoughtfulness with each day you watched him.

"I like how mature you are, how you still find the time to care for your friends even with Student Council work, the natural way you light up any room you walk into, how I could honestly hear your voice talk for hours on end, how even though we haven't spoken much you still remember my favorite color from when I told you during introductions, I'm rambling gahh, just—all of it! I like all of it, everything about you!"

Everyday of harboring your secret affections for the boy consisted of soft glances during his speeches, wishes to be able to encase his hand within yours to interlock your fingers under the table during meetings, and wantings to be more than what you were to him. It was alright for a while, but it had started to become painful.

All crushes are painful, you told yourself in 5th grade, watching him start to receive confessions from your classmates.

"—I like you! I've liked you since the 3rd grade, and so I accept! I really, really want to be with you Yang Jungwon. Please take care of me!"

They were all painful, but you were given the chance to make yours not. To make your feelings real and acknowledged, to bare yourself in front of him like a vivisection—and you were taking it. Even when you were practically trembling from the embarrassment.

Jungwon was stilled from the shock. Heeseung had already told him of your long held feelings, but hearing it from your mouth while you had your eyes shut tight made him flustered.

How were you able to do that so shamelessly? To be so vulnerable and weak in front of someone? He had to write a whole letter, albeit a bit poorly, and somehow you were able to say it all.

He's received confessions before, felt those kind of feelings, but he wouldn't have been able to yell out those sort of things ever—no matter how strong his feelings were. You were dangerously bold, he thought.

Bold enough to send a bright heat to overtake his cheeks.

You looked up finally after mustering enough courage from his lack of speaking, only to find yourself blinking at a red-faced Jungwon. Oh my God, he's blushing...! YOU did that.

The both of you stood there for a while, thinking the same thought of what is even happening? Is this real, or have I just been in a daze for the past few days? Jungwon's eyes were comically wide and his mouth was gaping, but he couldn't find it in himself to close it.

The thought made you gain confidence all of a sudden, finding the opportunity to do something you had always wanted to do. Quickly and stealthily, you went onto your tippy toes—

and kissed him on the cheek.

Jungwon felt your lips on the smooth expanse of his skin, and smelt your scent from the intimate proximity. It was a chaste gesture, almost no where close to his lips at all, but he heard his heart beating against his ribcage nonetheless. It thrummed in his ears like a drum, and he wanted to whisper for it to stop.

For it to not be swayed so easily.

It was the innocence of such a thing that got to him. Not once had Jungwon held hands, kissed, or even confessed to someone up until now. Of course, you suddenly getting so close and pecking him with your hands balled up would send his heart into a flurry.

The usually put together Student Council President in front of you let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, the tips of his ears and face becoming rosier. His throat was closing up, God, why was his throat closing up? Not now, please. He couldn't even remember what he was meant to be saying.

You smiled at him, happy to be rendering him to such a state. It was one of the most impulsive things you've done up to date, but you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

This was what those coming of age dramas on TV were describing—it was the start of one of those cheesy, really bad High School romances. Fervent, mushy, uncertain, but so tender it made your heart ache for hours even after watching.

As you retreated slowly, he caught a glimpse of your bright eyes, downcast lashes, and—holy shit you were so close. He could see the particular way you curled your lips.

He had to hold his breath.

Jungwon watched as your expression morphed into one of slight mischievousness, and an inkling of something softer, before you dashed out the sliding doors—

"Wait!

The sudden motion made him gain his words back, but you were already through the hallways with your hand on your bag.

—leaving him with nothing but the memory and the patter of your footsteps. So fast, so much speed, were you in track? The past few seconds were nothing but a blur of confusion and feelings he didn't want felt.

What just... What just happened?

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TLDR (but whyy :( pls read it); jungwon goes to do take backsies on his confession, u kiss his cheek, he goes coocoo bananas!!!

TAGLIST; @lumixen @ghjasksdk @atinyyylove @jjikyuu @yjwooon @ncityy04 @tyunni @littlewolfieposts @xoxojayd3n @rosiechaengz @sunshine-skz @youreverydayzebra @hobistigma @plshhhhhhh @lokideadontheinside @alo-ehas @milkycloudtyg @bangtopia

send an ask or dm

i wanted to emphasize how new his feelings for yeri :] if u could guess what this could mean. alsoooo... did u notice how fast this went ? i intended it to be rushed and "in the moment" like it was in the scene hehe

#yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon smau #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon x you #jungwon angst #enhypen angst #jungwon fluff #jungwon drabbles #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #jungwon social media au #jungwon scenarios #get it together jungwon!! smau #get it together jungwon!!

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hi there! You writings are wonderful. Please could you do an EssekXreader where the reader is from another high ranking den and is betrothed to Essek for political reasons. Both Essek and Reader aren't keen on the idea but eventually after spending time together realise they actually have feelings for each other, I'm thinking a bit like The Swan Princess. Please and thank you.

This is gonna be a two parter as the current draft already exceeds my usual word count limit 🙈 so stay tuned for part two in the next few days! Hope you enjoy 😘

Denial. It must be a cruel joke. Your family, your den they would never use you as a pawn in a bigger plot. This was all just a cruel joke or a move to assure their political advancement without the need to go through with this.

Anger. No. This is real. How dare they? How could they? They would use you like that? Without having the decency to let you know before the deal was made no less! Were it anyone else you’d crush them beneath your boot like the vermin they are for condemning you to a fate not of your own choosing. Perhaps you still might…

Bargain. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could just play your part and go your separate ways. A betrothal doesn’t have to end in a marriage. Even if it does, all that counts is appearances. Beyond that you could still have your own life right? You’d always be able to make the ‘me’ decision and wouldn’t have to take in account the ‘we’. Yes that should be right.

Depression. Your life is ruined! You’ll forever be tied to someone else without your consent. Your decisions will reflect on the many now. You’ll have to watch your every move and every choice or it may reflect terribly on your legacy. There’ll be expectations and can you ever live up to them while still being content with your own life or will you be sacrificing your happiness for something so stupid?

Acceptance. Acceptance…. Hell no!

Time for the first official meeting with Essek Thelyss in the context of your arrangement. You’d met many times before given both of your stations and reputations but now, you couldn’t help but feel a coldness towards the man regardless of what cordial or friendly dynamic you might have had in your limited social interactions.

Your respective families meet. You on your side, Essek on his. Both of you portray the facial expressions excepted of you; indifferent content. Nothing over excited nor anything remotely negative either but you’ve been raised a reader of the people and you could see through the cracks in Essek’s appearance. He’s just as happy with this arrangement as you are; not at all.

“It is a pleasure to meet you here today.” Essek speaks. The rules of engagement have not forgone any of you despite your discontent with this whole situation but for the sake of your watching families you’d play your parts. You’d put on a damn good show.

“You as well Shadowhand. Light be blessed we get to spend it in such magnificent company.” You can feel the approving look burn into the back of your head from your Denmother. They’d be none the wiser.

And so the negotiations began. All be damned if you did not at the very least were able to set some of your own terms in this arrangement. Fundings to sustain your lifestyle or a dowry were the least of your worries. You were more concerned with a place you could call your own, time to spend for yourself, security and stability and the ability to continue your life as is regardless of possible marriage. You would never give up your seat at the Bright Queen’s council and you’re very sure Essek wouldn’t give up his either.

Essek had to admit you played the game well. You’re a killer negotiator. Your persuasive side had shone at the Bastion more than once but those circumstances are wholly different than these. Your ability to make it sound like these ideas came from your den and not yourself, and have them think these suggestions were their ideas in the first place is simply remarkable. Remarkable and dangerous. Respect. But no matter how good of a talker you are, or he is for that matter, neither of you could get out of this.

Afternoon tea, a few lunches and dinners here and there and even a few events you were forced to attend with Essek as your escort under the careful watch of your dens. Whenever you were sure they were out of earshot you did not make it unknown neither of you wanted to be here and would prefer to be as far away from each other as possible.

Then there were the times you swore you might actually be able to like the Shadowhand. Councils held lead to many arguments, the Bright Queen watching the court fight among themselves for a next course of action, fundings to be divided and efforts to be pursued. You always kept a level head not allowing yourself to get worked up, or at least appear you weren’t but sometimes you could strangle the life out of some of these fools.

To your surprise in some of these occasions Essek would take your side and support your arguments, concerns and points brought up in debates. So he does know what’s good for him after all? Those moments were quickly ruined by the next point on the schedule where you’d be at opposing sides again. Usually you’d be able to work up an opponent in debate until their credibility would be questioned but Essek had caught onto your games and was no fool. If you could keep your cool, so could he. You had learned how to push his buttons as he had yours.

After a particularly heated debate the Bright Queen dismissed the dens, done with the bickering and infighting for the day. You couldn’t blame her even though there were still many things unspoken. You and Essek were at odds once more and you couldn’t be happier to be done for the day and head somewhere you wouldn’t be forced to interact with the asshole.

Conferring with your allies, trying to gain support of others, you grabbed your things ready to leave the Bastion. There he floated in the anti-chamber eyes cold focussed on you, waiting. You pretend you don’t notice and keep walking for the exit. Essek calls your name as you’re about to pass him. You don’t respond and keep going. He calls again. No response. He grabs your arm stopping you in your tracks. How you’d hoped to escape this confrontation.

“A moment of your time please.” The words leave his lips with an artificial, well-practiced warmth. Oh you’re fighting so hard to contain yourself but you too had a facade to keep up.

“Another time perhaps. I’ve grown quite exhausted after the day’s events. If you will excuse me.” You smile innocently placing your hand over his secured around your wrist. You pry your fingers beneath forcing him to release his grasp on you.

“Then allow me to escort you back home. Should you be able to muster up the strength to converse on our path I’d love nothing more than to just hear your voice.” Essek encases your hands between his. Eyes of the dens fall upon the two of you in the middle of the anti-chamber. Essek is known to be a reserved individual and these advances definitely stand out.

Oh so that’s the game we’re playing. Asshole move, Shadowhand. Two can play this game. If it’s the company you’re currently in he’s using against you you can do the same. You take a step closer to him standing on your tiptoes and lean in to press your lips to his cheek. You linger just a little and whisper into his ear.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You allow the distaste to bleed through your barely audible words before you pull away and take a step back. You couldn’t refuse his ‘generous offer’. It might make you look bad so you smile bright and nod even managing to call on a fake blush like some lovesick fool. From the corners of your eyes you notice the court members whisper among each other. Good. Let them talk. You link your arm through Essek’s still carrying your things.

“I believe I might have forgotten my transcripts of the day. Would you mind joining me in retrieving them?” So whatever the wizard needed to discuss with you he couldn’t say in public… Oh Essek what a mistake you made… That certainly offers you some opportunities to use to your advantage.

“Nonsense! I have my transcripts. You’re free to borrow them, or perhaps you’d like to study them with me? It might give us the opportunity to come to a compromise without wasting the Council’s time. After all, there’s much more pressing matters.” His expression might be a thankful one but if looks could kill… you’d be introduced into your next life this very second.

You begin leading Essek out of the building not allowing him any response or comeback for your previous statement. You walk head held high catching onto the praises of others. ‘A great match’? If only they knew…

Your walk continued in seething silence from Essek. Until you reached your home. Opening the door and leaning against the doorframe making sure no one else is in sight, you smirk at him.

“I’m curious. If I refused to part with these,” You hold up the transcripts. “What would you do? Would you go back and receive your own copies or would you go without them?” You leaf through the pages. It’s not like you needed them. You already had all you needed memorised so if anything they’d go into your archives for future reference and case study if necessary. Essek doesn’t dignify you with an answer yet so you continue to press his buttons.

“Would you be able to discredit my every word or counter them without the direct word for word reference? Would your arguments hold any weight against my own? Or would you be forced to depend on the vote or Light’s mercy, the Bright Queen’s verdict because if the latter, you’ve already lost, my dear.” You can’t hold back the smugness in your achievements. The look of defeat brought you satisfaction.

Essek bites his tongue. Even he knows that in theoretics you have the upper hand now. Recalling your words from memory alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d needed to cite them exactly providing the transcript in your possession. He couldn’t go back or it might arise questions, questions he couldn’t afford at this moment. What caught him off guard was you offering him the transcript still. He takes it before you can change your mind, the pages disappearing beneath his cloak.

“Luckily for you I’m not your enemy. Yes we might disagree on matters of state but at the end of the day we’re going to be stuck together and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Essek doesn’t know wether he should be wary, outright suspicious, or glad you’ve come up with a plan amidst the chaos.

“A truce. If we keep these antics going it will lead to a war between the two of us. Are you really prepared to be expected to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve grown to hate? Because I’m not. I’d rather sleep in my bed withe the comfort of knowing my partner will not stab me in the back or sabotage me at every opportunity he gets.” Partner. He. Not they. He. So not even you had a way out of this betrothal.

“Resentment grows much faster than affection.” Essek deadpans. Yes he sees your reasonings and you make some solid arguments but that doesn’t mean he has to trust your motives. He’s aware you in your position are much more dangerous than any spy, assassin or foreign force.

“Light be with me.” You’re exasperated. You’re offering an olive branch and this is his response? You pull him inside and close the door dropping the act entirely within the confines of your own home knowing no one will be watching you here.

“I am not offering you an epic enemies to lovers tale! I’m offering to make the best out of a situation neither of us actually want to be in! Marriage is just another contract. We do what is expected of us by following it to the letter and nothing more, nothing less. Love or affection is not part of that contract but respect is.” Essek takes in your words and considers them making sure you’re not twisting things in such a way you could later use against him or to your advantage.

“Your logic is sound and your arguments persuasive.” You raise your hand in an exasperated ‘thank you’ as he straightens your back and looks down at you.

“Very well. We have an agreement.” You’re on the verge of letting out a breath of relief at Essek agreeing to your terms and suggestions. You’d rather be sure this man isn’t going to drop you on a different plane in your sleep once you’ll be forced to share a home. You’d rather know you can trust him to have your back despite your grievances. At the end of the day, you both want to survive.

“Match made in Elysium.” Sarcasm is clear in your voice and the both of you cannot help but smile. More like match made in hell with the ‘letter of the law’ approach to navigating your predicament.

—————

Pacing back and forth fingers pressed to your lips in thought of Essek’s sitting room you ponder the terms of your agreement. Essek himself is seated on the couch leaning over a two sheets of paper, a long list of demands from both sides written on each.

“Next up housing.” You announce. Essek fiddles with the pen looking over the lists.

“I’m not willing to part with my towers unless something of equal or greater value is returned. I need space for my practices, experiments and studies.”

“I’ll agree to part with my own home under the terms you will share your personal resources with me and I will have amicable space for my own pursuits be this here or at another place of our mutual choosing.” Essek considers your terms on this matter. They are agreeable but this is a negotiation and neither of you are refraining from pushing for an outcome to suit yourself best.

“We will share my home then but we will both share our resources unless they pertain to exclusively personal matters or those of state when we inevitably find ourselves on opposing sides in the Bastion.” You stop pacing and turn to face Essek. He watches for your responses.

“I get my own tower.” You counter.

“That’s preposterous. I have need for certain rooms and areas for my studies and cannot relocate them.”

“Fine. Then I’ll get all unoccupied or unnecessary rooms.”

“You’ll get your own private bedchambers, study and sitting room just as I’ll have mine. These chambers will be exclusive and privacy to be respected. Other spaces save for my laboratory, for your own safety, are communal.” By the expression on your face Essek knows you’ve caught him in a loophole.

“Agreed. We’re entitled to our private spaces and will share the unspecified ones. Kitchen, dining room, living area�� library…” You caught hime there… Essek’s expression turns sour. He’d have preferred to keep that one to himself but the agreement is fair.

“I wish to make an amendment.”

“Name your terms.”

“Some shelves will belong to my private collection. You will refrain from touching these tomes and scrolls without my explicit permission.” You ponder not entirely convinced. There’s nothing in there for you and Essek knows it. You raise an eyebrow for him to continue and concede on a previously negotiated term for this amendment to go through.

“And in return, you get to redecorate our communal spaces how you see fit, within the realms of reason.” Essek empathises the latter part of his statement.

“Agreeable.” You nod. “Next up; social engagements.”

The two of you go back and forth agreeing, adjusting, and conceding to come to an equal understanding and finalise your arrangement. Over all, it went surprisingly well. It certainly was a nice change of scene to have somewhat friendly negotiations without the added pressure of the dens and the Bright Queen herself watching you.

Essek makes for a good conversationalist and you might even dare say you enjoyed your afternoon setting the terms and conditions. Maybe you could be friends after all. That would be nice.

#critical role #critical role x reader #mighty nein #mighty nein x reader #essek thelyss x reader #essek x reader #essek #essek thelyss #critrole x reader

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bound-writings · 4 years

Note

Teru x female reader who's bad at her studies headcannons! Teru has secret crush on her

BUEIDW I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I HOPE U ENJOY ANON!!! ALSO TAGGING @jshk-oneshots AND @toilettebound BC I THINK THEY WANTED TO SEE THE TERU FLUFF! ALSO @daikon-legss BC THEY ARE IN A TERU LOVING MOOD! (aLSO PARTIALLY INSPIRED BY CH 59 OF TBHK)

Teru Helping His Crush Study HCS

As we all know, Teru, quite frankly, is smart as hell. Good at English, bad with nothing. A ranking of #1 out of #231. A true perfect student. He’s never had too much trouble studying, so when you go up to him wailing about your studies, he’s a bit surprised (and also in awe at how cute you look.)

You quickly opened the door to the student council, slamming the door against the wall, your hand placed on your chest as you furiously looked around the room, looking for a specific cheese head which you secretly adored. You must have looked like a crazy person but you didn’t care right now.

“(Name)?”

You whipped your head over to the direction of the voice. Teru was standing over his desk, his head tilted slightly to the side curiously, paperwork scattered about.

Cute, you thought.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of that kind of thought.

“(Name)? Are you ok? You look very frazzled-”

You ran up to him, your feet skidding to a halt as you clutched his shirt.

“T-Teru… it’s the worst possible situation ever!”

Teru looked down at you. Big puppy eyes and your lip jutting out, small fingers locked onto his shirt and one hand even on his tie, you looked adorable. Your hair was ruffled and pieces were sticking out, some bags under your eye, and your chest was heaving up and down as if you were running for quite a while. The tips of his ears went red as you were so close to him, your warmth was a comfort to him.

“What’s the matter, (Name)?”

You buried his head into his chest, a small whine escaping you.

“Finals, Teru. FINALS!”

Teru raised his eyebrows as he brought his fingers to his chin.

“Finals, huh…”

“Yes, finals! How and why do you sound so calm about it?!”

“Well-”

“Oh yea.. I almost forgot. You’re the undefeated top-scoring student, amazing at everything…” you sulked, fingers dragging down his chest. You turned your back to him as you crossed your arms, pouting.

“Now, (Name)… why are you so scared about it in the first place? You’re quite capable and smart.”

You whipped around, grabbing his shoulders as you pursed your lips. “That’s not even true! But the worst part is…”

“Is..?” Teru was amused at your antics. You were very entertaining, one of the reasons he loved you.

“Is that I’m absolutely lost when studying!”

Teru blinked his eyes at you, while you stared straight into his own with the most serious expression he’s ever seen on you before he broke out in a chuckle and covered his mouth to try to muffle his laughs. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction.

“Teru, this is not a laughing matter! I’m being 100% serious right now!”

Teru smiled at you as he gently removed your hands from his shirt and set them at your side, his heart slightly pounding against his chest as he savored the softness of your hands in his.

“(Name), I’m sure you’re exaggerating-”

“I’m not, Teru! Every time I tried to study, I always got distracted, or I don’t understand the material, and just- grr!” you scowled, running your hands through your hair. “And imagine what everyone will think when they see a member of the student council fail their exams! They’ll call me the dumbest person in the school!”

Then, your shoulders perked up, as you nervously glanced up at him. “T-That’s why I came to ask you to help me.”

“Oh?”

“Y-yea!” You glided over to Teru once again and clasped your hands together. “Please, Teru! Help me study!”

“Sure, (Name.)”

“Please, this is a once in a lifetime reque- eh?” You hastily looked up, eyes shining with hope. “You will?!”

Teru smiled as he smoothed your ruffled hair. “Of course, (Name.) Anything for you,” he said, twirling a lock of hair around his fingers.

You blushed as you bowed. “Thank you so much, Teru! Oh, I’ll help you finish all your paperwork and-”

“But-”

“Oh God, there’s a but?! Teru, please don’t make me do something crazy-”

“Don’t look so scared, I didn’t even say anything yet (Name)!” he smiled, sparkles floating around him.

You squinted your eyes at his suspiciously. Even though you had a secret infatuation with the boy, you knew how he would, well, treat Akane. Teru leaned forward, whispering into your ear.

“You have to listen to one command from me, no matter what it is.” His breath tickled your ear and you were sure you were going to combust.

“If you’re fine with that, come see me after school, (Name).”

The sly mf already knew you were going to say yes. This boy knows how to work his magic to get you to come to him. Not just he means any harm, he’s just itching to spend some alone time with you (even if he appears to be neutral on the surface.) So he’s not surprised when you’re there waiting for him, hands on your hips, cheeks slightly flushed. (All according to plan!)

“I agree to your condition, Teru! But it better not be anything weird!”

He just smiles at you but inside he’s giddy with joy. Some alone time? With you? The most beautiful person he knows, loves, and adores? HELL YES! He doesn’t miss the opportunity to invite you to his house, despite the amount of paperwork he has left to do. (He’ll just dump it on Akane.) When you two arrive at his house, you’re probably marveling at how big it is and he’s just smiling at you all happy because he’s so glad he just snatched you up for some alone time. When Kou and Tiara saw you they got all excited because they love you too!! The two youngest siblings were giving each other looks because the only time their big brother brings anyone home is when he really likes them so they’re like ;) you go get them, tiger!!

Of course, y’all actually have to study, unfortunately. Teru has everything organized already (he prepared just for you!) You would start with the easiest stuff first because he didn’t want you to get overwhelmed too early on. Sometimes it’s hard for both of you to focus. When you’re trying to figure out a question, Teru points and shows you how to do it and his fingers brush ever so gently against yours. Both of you are flustered, but neither of you pull away, because, well, both of you like the feeling. Teru tends to stare at you a lot, whether it’s intentional or not, you don’t know. You are just chewing your pencil, glaring at the question while Teru just stares at you patiently with literal sparkles around him, and when you looked up you are blinded by how precious he looks. Similarly, whenever you get a question right, you always send Teru a closed eye smile, one hand against your cheek and the other making a peace sign. Cue Teru trying not to blush. He just wants to hold your hand and squeeze it every time you got something right and to maybe give you some cheek and forehead kisses every time you did something adorable (which is like 24/7 according to Teru’s logic.) It is actually quite a productive studying session, much to your delight, and Teru is also satisfied because he got to spend time with his beloved and also him you!

Much like a few days ago, you busted open the door to the student council, hopping in while you waved your hands around delightedly. You squealed with glee at the sight of Teru, rushing over to him with a piece of paper in your hand.

“Teru, Teru! Look!” you giggled as shoved the slip of paper that had the grades for your final exams.

“I actually did good!” you twirled around, humming, slightly hoping Teru would praise you.

Teru smiled at you, his face going soft at your adorableness. “I told you that you were going to do fine. You didn’t even need my help.”

“Hey! That’s not true! Without you, I would have failed! So I guess I’m in your debt now!” you grinned, shyly scratching your cheek.

“Of course you are, (Name). Don’t you remember the condition?”

“The condition? What- oh.. that conditon..” your face fell as a nervous grin replaced your previous one. “W-well, Teru, it was nice seeing you but I think I have to go now!” you started backing up towards the door but it was pushed in and your back hit the wall. When did that happen? There was no time to think or escape as Teru was quicker than your tiny little legs.

A hand gently hit the wall next to your face, as you nearly jumped at the sound as you glanced at it. When you glanced back to speak up, Teru’s face was already alarmingly close to yours. His beautiful blue eyes stared at you, and you could see his features close up. He was handsome already… but damn, you could feel your whole body heating up.

“You know, (Name), it’s not good to go back on your word.”

You couldn’t conjure any words to respond.

“You don’t have to worry though. My request is a very simple one.”

You merely nodded as you averted eye contact, you could barely even stand as your legs turned to jelly.

“Close your eyes for me, (Name).”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his particularly strange request but did as he asked, squeezing your eyes shut as you swallowed in anticipation of something bad to happen.

A hand caressed your cheek, causing you to stiffen in surprise. A finger traced your lips and lifted your chin up. Then another pair of lips brushed against yours, and then smashed onto yours leaving you in complete and utter shock. Teru’s hand gently combed through your locks, and it all sank in.

Teru was kissing you.

He pulled away almost too fast, his hands leaving your body and returning to his side, leaving you in a flurry of emotions and also wanting more of those sweet, delectable, kisses.

“That wasn’t too bad of a condition, was it, (Name)?” he asked playfully, enjoying the sight of your flustered face and messy hair displayed before him.

There was one thing you knew for sure.

If this was the condition for studying with Teru, you’d be very interested in studying with him a lot more often.

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk #jshk #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #teru minamoto #minamoto teru #teru minamoto x reader #minamoto teru x reader #teru x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #tbhk headcanons #jshk headcanons

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deejadabbles · 3 years

Text

SPELLS OF DEFIANCE (ATEM X READER X YUGI) CHAPTER 8

EIGHT: BLOOD

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// Eight //// [Nine coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split? Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N: Sorry this took so long to get out, personal upheavals and writer's block has been kicking my butt lately. Anywho, I hope you guys like this update, but I do want to warn all of you that there are depictions of violence and an incident involving self-harm in this chapter. Please be cautious of reading this chapter if those are themes you're sensitive to. As always comments are greatly appreciated and help keep me motivated to continue writing, thank you for reading. Oh, also, I made mood boards/edits for this series, in case any of your are interested in that <3

A crack so thunderous that it shook the walls around you sounded. Ears rang, blood spilled, and someone laughed. A sound cold and cruel bellowed as you were thrown back, senses reeling and vision blackening as skin made painful contact with the cement floor.

“Keith!” Duke’s eyes were wide as he watched you fly back, his own ears stinging even when he looked back to his fellow magician with a glare. “They said to take her alive, you idiot!” His fists clenched, eyes darting to the man’s arm. It still surged and flashed with lightning, flickers of electricity darting across his skin from his overpowered spell. His palm remained trained on you, and the seal on his palm still glowed from the magic.

Keith had the gall to chuckle again, “Relax, pretty boy. Even I know that wouldn’t kill her.”

Duke’s eyes widened again, and he looked back in your direction, finding you had managed to land on your knees, head bowed and arm holding you up as your shoulders shook with every labored breath.

“At least the attack broke down her defenses. Bitch always was good at keeping her armor up,” Keith added, sick grin glowering down at you.

You raised your head, vision finally coming back into focus after the attack. Your nose had broken from the impact, trailing red down your mouth and chin. However, to Keith’s obvious annoyance, the only other sign of harm were the glass-like cracks coating your face, your personal shield deteriorating under the force of his spell. He was right, you had always had a talent in armor spells, casting a constant barrier around your body, coating you in protection like a second skin. Your ability to redirect that shield to take the brunt of his attack was the only reason you weren’t a gory mess on the floor. It came at a cost though, and Keith knew it, you wouldn’t have the power to recast your armor spell for awhile.

You were vulnerable.

“Should have known they’d send their favorite dog after me,” you said, trying to make your form as steady as possible when you rose to your feet. Your jeans were rent, knees bloody and torn from the concrete.

Still, you stood tall.

Keith laughed again, “Well, not like they were gonna send pretty boy after you alone.” He shifted then, body moving into a combative pose, ready to fight. “Damn, I’m going to enjoy this.”

You actually smirked back at him, adrenaline kinking up your energy. Your eyes wandered past Keith’s shoulder, noting the wide cracks and barely stable wall just behind him.

Yes, that would do nicely.

A quick fluid motion and you reached out with your magic, grabbing hold of the crumbling stone, and pulled. The concrete followed in a thunderous cloud, and Keith barely had time to turn before the debris crashed down on him with a shout.

It wouldn’t be enough, you knew, but it bought time. You turned to Duke, grabbing a particularly large piece of rubble with your magic, just as your old friend’s face fell.

“Ah shit,” Duke muttered, then flung himself out of the way as you threw the debris.

Dust and curses were flung into the air, giving you the perfect cover as you jumped through a broken window of the nearest building, taking refuge behind the rotting walls. Let them chase you, they wouldn’t even realize the roles of hunter and prey were switched before it was too late.

You began your ascent to the top of the five-story building, climbing through holes in the floorboards and pouncing off rickety steps. Just as you cleared the third floor you heard a rumble and knew that Keith must have blasted his way out of the rubble. That was confirmed a moment later when you heard him scream at Duke, demanding to know where you went. Another yell at Duke’s answer, then Keith’s angry voice was ordering them to slip up, him taking one building, and Duke the other.

You grinned to yourself at the foolhardy decision- though you instantly regretted it when blood seeped past your lips at the act. You were definitely in for a lot of pain when this was over.

You were on the top floor now and heard the sounds of someone moving about below. He must have assumed you would go for higher ground, because the movements got closer a split second later; a teleportation spell. You looked up, finding the gutted state of this floor to your advantage despite the wide-open space. The ceilings were high, and the half-exposed rafters in those ceilings were dark, a perfect perch.

The footsteps grew closer as you jumped, climbing into the rafters with almost cat-like grace, and waited for whichever man had chosen this building. Unfortunately, you almost gave sigh when a whisper of a voice called out your name. Of course it had to be Duke.

He was within sight now, rising from the less than stable staircase on the other side of the room. His approach was cautious, eyes scanning the area with care as he called out to you again.

“I know you’re up here, so I’m going to ask you this now, come out and neither of us has to get hurt. I...I know this looks bad, but- damn it, you know I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hunt you like- like some fey monster. Just come back with me, come back home and I promise I’ll help you convince the Council it was a big, messy mistake. I’m not the only one on your side, either. Mahad, Mana, Ryou- we’re all worried about you.”

Despite your taut state, his words actually did send something sharp through your chest. Memories of a younger Duke winking and flipping his hair at you played in your head, alongside other memories of him curled up beside your hospital bed and his hand gripped in yours as you pulled each other to safety. Friends weren’t actually touted as something valuable in the Circle, but Duke was one of the few you considered to be exactly that.

He cursed, then said your name a third time, sounding particularly desperate now, “I don’t want Keith to find you first,” he said to the room, his eyes continuing to scan the area. “You know what he’s like, and I think...I think his plan is to kill you, and tell the Council he had no other choice. I don’t want that to happen...”

Your hands gripped the wood of the rafters as Duke walked right below your hiding spot. Then, with an exhale of breath, you jumped down. Before he even had time to turn you cast your quick spell and pushed. It was barely enough force to make him tumble, but it put enough distance between you two as he swung around and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry Duke,” you said, and took your battle stance, “but I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Something genuine filled his eyes, something hurt or desperate, but his expression was steel as he said, “Alright.”

Then his hands were moving, tracing a symbol in the air and it glowed with his magic. There was no use trying to dodge it, when his casting was finished an invisible force like a black hole began pulling you in, sucking in every loose object in the room. Your feet left the ground and you were practically flying towards the void his magic created- but you were ready.

Just as you were within range you flung an arch of fire, one that passed his black hole and slashed across his chest. With his concentration broken, the spell faltered, glowing sigil fading like a burnt bulb- though the power of its pull still sent you flying into the wall. Your bones ached in protest as you fell to the ground, but you didn’t- couldn’t miss a beat before springing back to your feet. Just in time too, because Duke was already on you. Your arms blocked his kick, before answering with an uppercut, and the moment he stumbled you shot another burst of fire that sent him falling.

Duke was an agile thing, though, and recovered before you could even fire another shot. A dance began, bursts of your flames soaring through the air one after another after another, and Duke using his own magic to cast them aside with graceful hands.

A full-on fire wasn’t what you were aiming for though, and you saw the pain twinge across his face when your strikes grazed his jacket. And finally, it was enough. Duke shouted in pain as the flames caught and spread across his coat. Much like you and Keith, magicians like Duke had their own armor, he just imbued the magic in a literal coat. Now, as Duke scrambled to pull the flaming garment off, his defenses were down, just like yours.

You didn’t let up, as much as you wanted to, and closed in on Duke as he threw his leather armor aside. A hard kick and he was sent to the ground, but his boot made painful contact with your sternum, shoving you away as he sprang back to his feet. Another flame, another shout of pain and you moved in for the proverbial kill.

He was fast, and threw his hand up, summoning a portal a mere step in front of you. You couldn’t stop your advance and fell through the portal with a shout. Suddenly falling through open air, you barely had time to register a pile of sharp somethings just below you, and cast flames to turn it to ash a moment before crashing into it.

Your senses reeled, coughing as ash flew down your throat and plumed about you, your body screaming in protest. You shook your head, opening your eyes to see that he had teleported you to the floor below. You had landed on a busted table or some other furniture that the old studio apartment was full of.

Just as you were standing up you heard a familiar sound, another portal- but a blow struck your ribs before you could react. You stumbled, knocking into another table as Duke closed in and tried for a second, but you jumped, landing on top of the table which his fist struck instead. You spun, landing the heel of your foot across his face with a resounding crack . The force was enough to slam him down hard on the table and later you would wince at the crimson that spat across the surface. Still he recovered, enough to knock into your knee and make it buckle, but it was a desperate move; one that allowed you to grab a fist full of his hair and slam him back into the table with even more force.

He went slack in an instant, sliding to the ground like a rag doll as you stepped back. A groan, and then stillness. You watched for a moment until you confirmed the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I’m- sorry, Duke,” you panted. He would hurt when he woke, and hot guilt prickled across your skin, especially at the sigh of his bloodied mouth. Still, you had to remind yourself that all in all, he would be fine, especially after the Sanctuary's healers saw to him. Besides, no matter how brutal the attacks seemed, it was far from the worst you’d dealt in a battle. And you did take a second to appreciate how much Duke’s combat skills had improved, he had grown a lot from the boy you used to sweep-kick into submission every time you two sparred.

You hopped off the table and knelt by his unconscious form, tugging at his belt until the spellbook that hung from it was pulled out from underneath him. You unlatched it and flipped through the pages until you found the right one. If you wanted to get past that barrier, you have to break the seal Duke used to cast it. You thought you had found the right one when you turned to the first glowing page, but to your surprise, that sigil was not for a barrier, but for a mute spell, used when you wanted no one outside a certain area to hear you. Well, you wondered why your fight hadn’t drawn Keith’s attention, apparently Duke had wanted privacy when trying to persuade you to surrender yourself.

You moved past the thought, not having time to dwell, and continued to turn pages until you found yet another glowing source. This time it was the right spell, and you hastily tore the page from the book, disrupting the magic that caged you here. You glanced out the nearest window-

But nothing happened. The glowing barrier didn’t budge.

A curse that was practically a scream ripped through your throat. Duke was smart, he must have made two parts, two seals, to his barrier. You had to destroy the other seal before you could escape.

And who else would have that second seal besides-

“Quit hiding, you bitch!”

You sighed as Keith’s taunt echoed, a quick peer over a window sill confirming that he was storming out of the other building and marching straight towards yours. You wouldn’t be able to escape without facing him. Time to take out the trash, as they say.

Only when you started rising to your feet did you finally take more notice of your injuries and you had to steady your breathing to calm the surges of pain. You suspected a fractured rib was dangerously close to becoming a broken one and the pain was sure to worsen by the minute. You had to end this quickly.

Before you moved to the other side of the room, you took a second to snatch something else off of Duke’s belt and tuck it in your own pocket. Keith was quickly bounding up the floors below you now. With a sudden plan blinking into your head, you slipped your jacket from your shoulders and using a chair for height, propped it up on a collection of loose ceiling beams. Judging by the way he was charging up the rotting staircase, it would be the first thing he would see when he got here, and you quickly slipped to the other end of the room.

Not a minute later that thundering crack sounded, an arc of lightning cutting through the air and striking the coat tucked between the rafters. And just as Keith stepped up from the stairwell a second later, you charged.

He hadn’t even managed to turn enough to cover his flank as your foot made contact with his knee- but it was like hitting steel, his barrier still protecting him even as he stumbled. With a spin your leg came up, knocking him hard in the chest and he let out a shout as he went tumbling back down the stairs. You couldn’t press the advantage though, he let off another shot of lightning, making you duck away from the stairwell in retreat.

How a lumbering muscle like him moved so fast was beyond you, but you didn’t get time to gain much distance before he was back up the steps and you were scrambling to avoid another cracking bolt- heat grazing past you even as you did. You crashed to the ground in the messy dodge, and had to roll to avoid his boot from coming down on your head as he closed in! You managed to spring back to your feet and even block one fist with your own- but his second made painful contact with your jaw.

He pressed his advantage, your ribs screaming as he wrapped his arms around your middle and threw you hard against the wall. Vision reeled as fingers gripped your hair, scalp burning as he pulled you back. Another painful wrack through your body as he slammed you again, back first, into the wall before clamping his hands around your throat.

The instinct to take in a gasp as he squeezed your windpipe was strong, but your eyes locked on his even as he chuckled.

“Told you I was going to enjoy this,” he hissed, his fingers tightening all the more.

You bared your teeth against his sick grin and focused, concentrating on channeling your magic to the palm that once bore your magician’s seal. It would take more effort than before, the magic that helped focus your attack gone, but your power was more than what the Circle had given you.

So wrapped up in his sadistic enjoyment, Keith didn’t notice your palm growing hotter- until you reached out and clamped your hand on his face. He screeched as the heat burned through the layers of his personal shield but even as his fingers recoiled to claw at your hand you held firm. A burst of glorious air filled your lungs, steeling your resolve as you rammed your knee into his groin. His knees buckled, only strengthening your advantage as your palm continued to burn against his face.

But before you could knock him further to the ground, Keith struck, a quick jab of his fist right to your injured ribs. Stars burst behind your eyes and you couldn’t keep your hold as he twisted your wrist back- though you did manage to catch his fist as he aimed to strike again. Fist and wrist caught in each other's hold, a moment-long stalemate ensued as you both struggled to get the upper hand on each other. His skin was an angry red as he growled at you, some fastly forming blisters making the faint imprint of your hand across his face.

The stalemate was broken when you slammed your forehead into his nose, something of his cracking even as your own broken bridge throbbed in pain at the motion. The moment he reared back you pushed out with your magic, the force sending him across the room. Much like you had with Duke, you kept pressing, flinging flames in a relentless onslaught that he had to dodge second by second.

He probably thought he was doing well, not a lick of flame doing more than grazing him, but then again, you weren’t trying to graze him. Each move to dodge brought him closer to your target and the moment he was lined up, you grabbed Duke's weapon from your belt. He must have expected more fire because he didn’t have time to change tactics as the end of a rope dart soared towards him instead of flames. The blade swung, wrapping the rope around Keith’s throat as his eyes widened but even as he made to tug at it, you were faster. WIth all the force you could conjure, you aimed your spell at him, sending him stumbling even further back. He didn’t stand a chance as you closed the distance at a run- and slammed your foot into his chest.

All that power sent him sailing through the window behind him with a shattering crash!

You had just enough time to hold your end of the rope firm before it was pulled taught by Keith’s falling body. You did stumble from the force of his stop, but you held tight and quickly managed to anchor the rope. Not a second later were you hopping through the window yourself and landing, with some effort, to the concrete ground below.

After getting your bearings, you stood tall and looked up, eyes landing on a struggling Keith as he squirmed against the rope wrapped around his neck. He was a good three feet off the ground, and you had to admit, you did take a bit of satisfaction watching him struggle. But, what now? Keith was as bad as they came when dealing with violent and untrustworthy magicians. But did you really intend to let the rope hang him?

Just as you stepped forward, Keith took the decision out of your hands, reaching to the back of his belt even as his veins started to pop across his neck and face. He produced a knife, and you couldn’t help but sighed as he reached up to saw at the rope.

It was quick work, and you once again readied yourself as he fell to the ground, coughing. This was, admittedly, bad, you could feel your stores of magic depealting, and the pain of your injuries was getting harder to ignore.

He recovered quickly enough to snap his head up and glare at you quite vehemently, “Bitch!”

“You really need to think of a better insult,” you sighed as he scrambled to charge at you.

You lunged to the side when he made to grab you around the middle again, but he was quick on the turn and something flashed in the sunlight as your hand came up to block him. He dropped the blade into his free hand and made to stab again- only to be thrown over your shoulder as you turned into his grip. Though he hit the ground hard, sprawling out with a grunt, he was quick with a kick and landed a hard blow on your shoulder. He took your grip on his hand to his advantage too, and hoisted himself back up while throwing you off balance.

Then a scream ripped through your throat! Hot pain sliced across your stomach, and you barely stepped back in time to avoid another slash of his knife.

You clambered further from him, hand reflexively covering your belly and assessing the damage. The cut was shallow, even as it burned and bled crimson, but it was a large gash. This had to end, now!

Red-faced, boil-covered, and blood-stained, Keith still managed to grin at you as he brandished his blade in a taunting threat. You were vaguely aware of more red wetting your shirt, but you had to push it to the back of your thoughts as Keith made to strike again.

A block, a lunge back, a jab in retaliation, but he didn’t let up on his attacks. You found that you were being corralled closer to the building, not good. A duck as he swung his blade and you managed to swing behind him. Still crouched, you landed another hit on his knee and it was enough to make him buckle. You sprang up to land another blow but he was quicker. Another scream as his fist made contact with your ribs and you were sent tumbling back.

You crashed to the ground as the world spun, waves of pain washing through you. Yup, definitely a broken rib.

Another sick chuckle had your vision clearing enough to see Keith stalking towards you, smile widening as he tossed his blade aside. “I’ll just tell the Council I had to fry you, not like they’ll care anyway,” he held his fist up at the claim, “A close quarter impact, yeah, they’ll buy my story if they think I acted on instinct.” A second later electricity was sparking around his knuckles. “And I’ll make sure to hunt down your boyfriends too,” he continued in a hiss, and the arcs started to spread, coiling down his arm as he charged his attack, “I figure I can make them suffer a lot more than you. Yeah, I’ll enjoy that too.”

Your teeth were bared again, and a growl rumbled in your chest even as you silently prepared your own counter. Keith was always his sloppiest when he thought he had the upper hand.

A threat about staying away from Yugi and Atem was hot on your tongue, but before you could spit it out Keith was lunging, ready for the kill! Your hand shot up, catching his fist in mid-strike that might have broken your arm if not for the magic coursing through you. His lightning arched and flashed- flickering as its tendrils slowly crept down your own arm.

He had meant to send the electricity through you like an overpowered thunderbolt, but your own spell was absorbing it! You growled as the effort to redirect the energy back at him took its toll through your already battered body. He was fighting you, cursing you as he tried to tear past your magic and finish his killing blow.

A fierce cry rattled your throat as you pushed on with all your might-

Thunder so loud it might have cracked the very sky sounded. Something tore- something broke between the flesh and blood of your arm as the power between you two reached its peak! Through the bright flash, you thought you saw Keith being thrown back, but the force pushing you into the hard concrete wracked your senses, almost as much as the searing pain pulsating in your arm!

Your ears were ringing, the world had lost any real sense of balance as the sky above reeled and rolled. You were vaguely aware of clutching your arm to your chest as you bit down on your tongue, trying and failing to stop the cry of agony from leaving your throat.

A few shuttering intakes of breath and the world slowly started to right itself. Your ears were still ringing, but you managed to roll to your side (the side not screaming in pain) and find Keith, slumped motionless against the cracked building. You almost chuckled in relief. You were battered, a little bloody, and much worse for wear, but you were still standing- so to speak.

After another moment of gathering your wits, you clambered to your knees and started to rise, only then taking stock of your arm. It wasn’t as bad as if felt, though some nasty purple was already forming under the skin. The sheer amount of power between you two had been too much, and the recoil of it releasing had probably fractured a bone or two in your arm. Still, you were the one who remained conscious. You would take a bit more gratification in that once your body felt a little less like a crash-test dummy.

You made your way over to Keith’s body, taking note that he was still breathing despite looking like death warmed over. After fishing around in his jacket pocket, you found the spell paper that had the other half of the barrier seal scribbled on it. With one arm basically useless, you had to grip the corner of the paper between your teeth, and a sigh that hurt a little too much left your chest as the shimmering dome around you started to dissolve the moment you tore the parchment.

You had just enough energy left to teleport back home, and the thought of Yugi and Atem’s reactions to your state was already playing in your head as you took another step-

And fell to the ground.

A hiss of pain as you hit the concrete, and it was only then that you finally noticed the cold, seeping, numbness.

Your mind raced, but you tried to keep your breathing steady as you rolled onto your back and pulled your shirt up, realizing the lack of feeling was spreading from your stomach. Sprouting from the shallow but wide cut across your belly, there were nasty, vein-like lines crawling their way over your skin. Your eyes flashed to the dagger Keith had discarded as the answer dawned on you: poison.

You were already losing feeling in your legs, and your pitiful drops of remaining magic with it. Breaths were coming in ragged now as you tried to grip the last threads of your energy, even as you felt it slipping.

This…

This was not good.

***

“Aibou,” Atem’s tone was firm as he cut through his boyfriend’s rambling on the other end of the phone. It was only when Yugi froze in the middle of the phrase ‘what if she’s allergic-’ that Atem could finally get more than a word in. “I’m sure what you ordered is fine. We have plenty of options she can choose from, besides, if she doesn’t like what you order her, I know you’ll be willing to share your meal.”

He heard Yugi give a little sigh on the other end, “Yeah, I know, I just wish I had thought to wait until she got home before ordering.”

Atem found himself shaking his head despite the fact that Yugi couldn’t see him. Yugi was acting like he was a creature of impulse, and that ordering their takeout dinner before asking what you wanted was a recurring crime and not a simple misstep from a usually over-considerate man. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you ordered for her, Aibou, you worry too much.”

“I know….” After the pouting pause, Atem heard a familiar bell tinkle on the other end of the line. “I have to go, be up in a bit.”

Atem said his quick “love you” before hanging up, again shaking his head at Yugi’s cute concern.

It was nearing the time for the shop to close, and Yugi had thought it a good idea to order-in dinner early, so you would have a fresh hot meal upon returning, and so the three of you would have plenty of time to follow up on any lead Bonz gave you after dinner. It was a good plan...until Yugi realized he still didn’t know all your food preferences until he was on the phone ordering said dinner.

“Too sweet sometimes,” Atem chuckled to himself, before setting the phone aside and returning to cleaning the dishes from his own mug-contained meal. Still, being reminded of the time, his mind once again traveled back to you. It was getting late. You had said it wouldn’t take long, but, exactly how long was that? He turned the knob to faucet off with a little too much force, something gory flashing in his mind as he watched the red remnants of his meal sliding down the sink into the drain.

He forced a sigh out through his nose and closed his eyes. It was hard not to worry, or, rather, to avoid that worry from stepping over the line into ‘overprotective’, as he was so known to do. Yes, it was late, but you likely had to walk, as you had mentioned you hated teleporting when it could be avoided. Maybe you had to make a stop on the way home, Yugi had mentioned some shops nearby where you could pick up essentials when needed, after all.

Atem scolded himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself until you and Yugi came home. He had already spent a decent amount of time pulling out the video games he knew Yugi would want to show you, as well as ones he thought you might like, in the hopes that the three of you could have some bonding time later that night. Maybe he could-

Crash

In a glorious burst of glass and thick curtains splitting into ribbons, something sailed through the closed doors of the balcony. Atem’s hackles were up in an instant, even as he leapt back to avoid the sudden rays of setting sun pouring in through the remnants of the glass doors. The metallic and sweet smell of blood assaulted his senses, making his fangs elongate as he heard something heavy collide with the floor.

Then his blood turned to ice when he saw what was curled up in the wreckage. Your hand reached out feebly for just a moment before it fell, your body going still among the glass and splintered wood.

In an instant he was rushing towards you- only to hiss in pain and rear back as the sun blazed across his skin like hot talons. He felt his fangs cut into his lip as he swore loudly, you were laying right in the middle of the sunlight! He wheeled around the room, mind racing for a plan even as his mouth watered at the smell of blood permeating the air. By the gods, how badly were you hurt for the room to smell so intense in just a matter of seconds?!

Atem ran to the hallway closet, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he threw it open. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the top shelf and started pulling it over his head and shoulders as he ran back to the living room. He barely took note of if his body was concealed in the blanket enough as he again ran to your side. Sharp shards split his skin as he tried to slide his hands under your form, and something was burning his legs as he worked. Finally though, he managed to get a hold of you good enough to pull you out of the sun and off of the debris. The moment he was out of the rays of fire, he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms and setting you on the couch as gently as he could, taking thankful note that your breathing was slow and shallow, but present.

A growl of anger and whine of concern caught in his throat when he saw the blood soaking your clothes. Colorful bruises were taking form across your skin and there were rips in your clothes sporting bloody abrasions. One was worse than the others though, and Atem found himself tearing the shirt in half so he could better see the cause of all the staining.

Another growl bubbled up as he saw the injury: a long cut right across your stomach. His hands were covering it in an instant, trying to stem the flow of red. The cut wasn’t deep and he might have wondered why there was so much blood if it wasn’t for the sickly markings crawling across your skin from the wound. What could cause this? Magic?

His mind raced for a course of action, even as it cursed his lack of knowledge in healing. What could he possibly do to counter whatever magic this-

The memory of purging the circle’s magic from your hand came flashing into his mind. You had said the curative coating his fangs must have some ability in negating magic. Could it possibly help here? He growled again as crimson continued to seep over the fingers clamped on your wound. Healing the magic or poison or whatever was afflicting you could wait, right now he just needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out!

Atem felt sick with the way his throat ached with need at the smell and sight of so much red. He knew the best way to seal the cut, but fear gave him pause. No matter how many centuries passed, no matter how long he honed his self-control, the memories of finding humans- innocent people, dead in his arms still haunted him.

Then his eyes darted up to your face. You were barely hanging on, breathing seeming to slow before his very eyes.

With all the self-control he could gather, he steeled himself against the thirst parching his throat, and pressed his mouth to the wound. He had but to graze his fangs across the torn skin so the curative on them took hold and started mending the flesh. He was painfully aware to be careful though, gentle as he moved his canines along the wound and not to worsen the cut.

As expected something like a shudder of relief (euphoria, even) shivered down his body as some of your blood seeped into his mouth. He ignored it, countered it with the self-loathing that writhed in his stomach, knowing that the thing he was could ever take any enjoyment in this.

His fingers gently followed his progress, making sure the skin was healing after the touch of his fangs. It was, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he pulled back and saw that only an angry-looking scar remained of the gash- well, of the gash itself, his brows furrowed when he saw that the vein-line markings around it were as sickly and deadly looking as before.

His mind was frantic again, searching for an answer before the sound of a door caused it to snap back to the world besides your injured form. His eyes darted up to land on Yugi, who had stepped inside only to have his smile vanish a moment later, his gaze landing on the living room.

“Help me!” Atem’s voice was raw in his throat and all but a yell, but Yugi snapped into action before he could blink.

The brown take-out bags in his hands spilled to the floor as Yugi ran to your side, “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, I think she barely managed to teleport home. I just sealed the cut that- that caused all this-” he waved his hands to indicate all the red- “but I think she’s been poisoned. Do you have anything in the shop that could heal her?”

Yugi didn’t answer, he was already fishing his phone out of his jean’s pocket as he looked over your form. One hand slid over the skin of your chest while the other frantically tapped at his phone screen, and it was only then that Atem realized the markings were still spreading.

“She’s burning up,” Yugi choked under his breath, even as the phone pressed to his ear started to ring. A moment later he was spewing a string of words into the receiver, “What could cause black marks under the skin? It might be magic, it might be poison, we don’t know which!”

After a stunned pause, Atem heard Anzu’s voice answer on the other end, hurriedly telling Yugi to send her a picture. Yugi did, snapping it as fast as he could and growling at his phone for taking too long to send it. Several long, agonizing moments ticked by as they waited for Anzu to answer, and when she did Yugi was scrambling to his feet and bolting back down the stairs to the shop. Atem almost ran after him, but the need to stay by your side anchored him, pulled him to stay right there. He looked back at you, chest clenching at the sight. Your skin was clammy, face taking on a bit of a hollow look as your chest barely lifted with each breath that had long pauses between them.

Atem found his hands reaching out to cup your face, the red staining them smearing across your cheeks as he tried to hold you. “Please- please just hold on,” he whispered.

A too-long moment later Yugi was bounding up the stairs and through the door again. Atem saw something flash in his hand as he fell to his knees beside the couch. A blade.

“You’re sure this will work?” Yugi panted as he tapped the speaker button on his phone and set it on the floor.

“It’s the best option you have,” Anzu’s voice snapped from the phone’s speaker, “but you have to put it on the same spot the poison entered.”

Though the remaining scar made that spot obvious, Atem pointed the wound out to Yugi, who looked pale as he hovered the dagger over your stomach.

“You’re going to need to hold her down,” came a shaky warning from the phone, just before Yugi pressed the flat of the blade to the scar.

An ear-splitting scream ripped through your throat and Atem flung himself to the other side of the couch, shaking hands gripping your shoulders as your body began to writhe. As gently as he could he pinned your shoulders to the couch, heart aching at the cries of pain spilling through your clenched teeth. Yugi, still holding the blade flat to your stomach, had to throw his body across your legs to keep them from thrashing and Atem thought he heard a distressed noise from the phone, but it was worth it as he saw the edges on the markings slowly begin to recede.

***

Yugi was fighting back tears. Now that the adrenaline was gone, stress and worry drug and tore at his senses, making it harder not to sob as he wiped the blood from your skin. The poison was purged from your body, thank god, but, if you had not already been passed out from the blood loss, the act of drawing the drug out of your body certainly would have knocked you out cold. Yugi was thankful, not for the first time, that his grandpa’s old collection of magic artifacts was full of unique pieces, including one blessed by patrons of healing from several religions.

For about the fiftieth time, Yugi dipped the washcloth into the bowl of hot water, wringing out the stomach-churning red. The apartment smelled like a crime scene and Yugi knew he’d have to shower for an hour to feel clean again, but at least you were alive. You looked sick, and Yugi watched you like a hawk to make sure your breathing didn’t stop, even though Anzu had warned that you’d probably look worse before you got better.

Once the washcloth was rinsed of blood he gently swiped it across your body again. He was trying to find a good balance between taking care of you, and not doing anything that might make you uneasy. He wanted to get the gore-soaked clothes off of you, put you in something clean, something comfortable so you didn’t have to wake in your own blood. He had even gathered a pair of his extra stretchy, soft sweatpants and oversized flannels to put you in, but the actual act of changing you felt too… Violating, too perverse despite the fact that no ill-acts were at work. As it was, he felt guilty that your shirt was nothing but a torn rag, leaving your chest bare as he tried to clean the red from your skin. Maybe you didn’t care, maybe you were used to this, being a warrior of sorts, but Yugi felt sick at the idea of crossing a line with you. In the end, he figured Anzu could change you, she was on her way there with a healer’s hut worth of herbs and spells to get you patched up, after all.

Another sniff that threatened to turn into a sob later and Yugi was finally done wiping your chest and stomach clean. You were still covered in marks from your battle, but at least this was better. He grabbed a blanket that was discarded on the ground (had Atem used it to shield himself from the sun?), made sure it was clean enough for you with a quick look over, then tucked it over your body for privacy and warmth.

Next, he moved on to your face, which was not nearly as messy, but some ash dirtied your skin under thin smears of blood. The vague memory of coming back to find Atem desperately holding your face with red-stained hands floated through Yugi’s mind as he dabbed the cloth over your cheeks with care.

That cleaning didn’t take long, and when he was done, Yugi suddenly found himself at a loss. What else could he do? Should he get you a glass of water for when you woke? Run a hot bath so you could slip into it at a moment’s notice? Tuck another blanket around you so you felt safe and protected while you healed? Hold you so you didn’t have to wake alone and pained and-

Yugi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes with a tired, defeated groan. He hated feeling useless, feeling like he could do nothing while the people he loved suffered. Again he had to swallow the sour taste of tears, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good now.

Then, before he could even think, he found his hands reaching out to gather yours. Your right arm was badly damaged, swollen and bruised, but your left seemed fine, and Yugi leaned in, lay your palm on his cheek as he silently thanked you for having the strength to come home to them, for surviving long enough for them to take care of you. An odd thing to think, perhaps, but Yugi allowed himself the moment of thanks, even moving his lips to press against your palm in gentle affection.

He lingered there for a few moments, comforted by the feel of your no longer fevered skin against his and watching your breaths get stronger and more even with every moment. Soon enough though, he forced himself to tuck your hand back under the blanket and get back to making himself useful. The living room floor was still a mess of broken glass and splintered wood, but first he took the bucket of blood-tinted water to the kitchen, and it was only when the red was streaking down the slope of the sink that he remembered someone else in distress.

Atem had taken off not long after they purged the poison from your body, his face looking sickly and pale. Yugi knew Atem might need space, and besides that his mind was preoccupied with taking care of you first, something Atem would understand. Now however, now that you were sleeping as soundly as you could, it was time to tend to his vampire.

It didn’t take long to find him, Yugi heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and padded over to the open doorway. Atem stood over the sink, steam pluming up from the hot water to fog up the mirror and porcelain and-

And Yugi froze when he saw scarlet coating the sink.

Atem was scrubbing his hands under the scalding water, nails digging in so much that the skin was tearing and healing rapidly before Yugi’s eyes. Not fast enough to stop the bleeding, though, and the ferocity of which Atem was scrubbing his hands and arms was causing red to pour like a waterfall.

“Atem!” Yugi rushed forward, “Stop- STOP!”

He tried to pry the vampire’s hands away, so desperate he almost dug his own claws into his lover’s skin. Atem only jerked out of his hold, eyes wild and panicked as he shied away from the incubus.

“What...what are you doing?” Yugi’s words were panted, trying to stay calm and only half succeeding as he approached Atem like a scared, injured creature.

Atem’s eyes were locked on his own hands, reproachful almost, but mostly enraged. “I can’t- I can’t get it off!” he raised them a little, still raw and bloody from the abuse, “No matter how much I try it won’t go away! I can still smell her blood on my hands, Yugi!”

He snatched a towel from beside the sink and started scrubbing at his hands again, but Yugi rushed forward and gripped them with as much gentle force as he could manage.

“Enough,” he said in a whisper, “that’s enough, Atem, please, please don’t hurt yourself.” With a tug, he pulled Atem close, held his vampire’s healing hands to his chest as he peppered reassuring kisses over Atem’s face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not, Yugi!” a sob marred the words, and Yugi felt his heart break. “I can’t stand it, it makes me sick, just like the others.”

Yugi knew what ‘the others’ meant, remembered calming Atem down from nightmares, holding a sobbing vampire who was still haunted by the memories of killing when he wasn’t in control of his blood lust. It didn’t matter that it had been over a century since the last time he woke with a dead human in his arms, Atem still remembered them, still told himself he was a killer with blood on his hands that could never be washed clean.

Just like on the nights filled with those memories, Yugi held Atem close, whispered assurances in his ear, told him it wasn’t his fault, ignored the stabs to his heart when Atem told him it was.

“We almost lost her, Yugi.”

“But we didn’t.”

“I had her blood on my hands, in my mouth-”

“You saved her, Atem.”

Silence followed that, and for a long, long while they just stood there, clinging on to each other like a life line. Yugi tried to put forth some more gentle words, but Atem said nothing more, only pressed his face into Yugi’s chest with a sob so tired that Yugi had the urge to tuck Atem into bed too. He even suggested it, said that Atem could rest in the living room with you while he tended to you both, but the vampire just shook his head and held Yugi closer. That is until he finally pulled away with a sniffle.

Atem tucked his hands closer to himself, self-conscious, unsure. “You should get back into the living room, I think Anzu is here and she’ll want your help healing her wounds.”

He was right, not even a second later they heard the front door open and Anzu's worried voice calling out to them before she spotted you on the couch with a gasp. Still, Yugi stood there, eyeing his boyfriend’s hands with concern.

“Atem-”

“I’m okay, Yugi,” he assured, then sighed and gestured at the sink, “I won’t try that again, I promise. I just...I just need a minute to collect myself, that’s all.”

Yugi had learned to tell when Atem was lying long ago, but he knew Atem was being truthful now, so, he just stepped forward, cupped his hands to Atem’s face, and said, “You know we’re here for you, right?”

Atem actually managed a slight, tired, smile, “I know, Aibou, I know.” He leaned in and pecked Yugi’s lips, “Now go, help her.”

Finally somewhat assured, Yugi nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, back to the side of someone else who needed him. Still, Yugi was only fully assured when Atem joined them a few minutes later and started helping him and Anzu dress your wounds with poultices and spells.

#writing fight scenes are soooooo haaaaard!#also damn why does if feel like nothing actually happened in this chapter even though it's my typical length??#I promise more mushy relationship development will come in the next chapter <3 #atem x reader #yami x reader #yugi x reader #atem x reader x yugi #yugi x reader x yami #ygo #yugioh #Atem #yugi mutou #yugioh x reader #series: spells of defiance

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gaytrojanshit · 3 years

Text

Aight @dilfaeneas this one’s for you because Helenus absolutely deserves to punch Paris. I’ll probably write more later but it’s 4 am sooo

Gods, what a miserable day this was turning out to be. First, Helenus had woken up with an absolutely killer headache, which Apollo was not doing anything about despite his prayers. And now, he’d received visions that Paris would finally return from his little hideout in Sparta- and he wouldn’t be coming back alone. Helenus and Cassandra had both warned their father that letting Paris go to Sparta was a bad idea, but Priam had been convinced that his newly discovered son would do just fine, and thus had completely ignored the seers’ warnings. Initially, Paris had returned empty handed, causing Priam to believe that all was well and that nothing terrible would come of sending Paris to Sparta. But then came the incident at the games.

The annual games were something that the athletic men of Troy trained for all year. It was a glorious time, with events such as chariot racing, archery, javelin throwing, and more. This year, however, the javelin event had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Cocky Paris wanted to participate in *all* of the games, and had somehow managed to win one or two of the easier events. So, “Aphrodite’s Favorite” had tried his hand at javelin throwing, and somehow managed to miss the target so badly that he hit a person. Now, normally this wouldn’t be that big of an issue, but this person was Antheus, son of Antenor and lover of Deiphobus. Helenus had been close with Deiphobus all his life, and thus wasn’t particularly surprised when his brother absolutely lost it in front of the audience and demanded to duel Paris right at that moment. Paris, being who he was, ran for his life to the then hospitable house of Menelaus in Sparta. And now, some months later, here they were.

Getting up out of bed, Helenus would trudge out of his chambers, knowing damn well that the arrival of Paris’ ships had been announced, and that some of his family members would be there to greet the prince. And good gods, his headache was really putting a damper on his mood. Once he arrived at the port, Paris was there, as expected, along with Hector, Priam, and Hecuba. With a ship full of what looked to be stolen gold, fantastic. It was on days like these that Helenus truly wished that he’d never said anything about the identity of Paris, because then Paris would have died and this wouldn’t be their problem. As he came closer, he became aware that Hector was quite loudly telling Paris off, presumably for the amount of treasure that he’d looted from who knows where. Unfortunately, Helenus knew there was more aboard that ship than just shiny gold.

“Oh, but wait brother! Despite what you may say, this gold will be good for us! And before you yell some more, take a look at the most valuable thing I’ve brought for us.” Paris was truly nonsensical. Troy had no need for gold, they already had plenty of wealth to go around, so this foolishness just showed off the man’s greed. Idiot. With a load of unnecessary dramatics, Paris would unveil his greatest “prize”. It was a woman, one of astounding beauty. It took Helenus a moment before he realized that this was her. Helen of Sparta, the woman who had caused so many men to fall hopelessly in love with her. “What the fuck have you done?” Helenus asked, in an almost disgusted tone. “Well, brother, I took what I wanted. Since I’m a prince, I see no prob-” Paris was then interrupted by Helenus punching him in the face. He heard the crack of his brother’s nose, finding a bit of satisfaction in knowing that he’d temporarily ruined the man’s face. He’d then move back, wiping the blood off of his fist as he turned to Hector. “As a seer and as your trusted brother, I’d say the best course of action is to send her back immediately. By now, I have no doubt that Menelaus has called for Agamemnon to help him get his bride back. Please, brother.” Helenus had seen the doomsday visions for years now. Helen couldn’t stay, or his city would burn.

Thankfully, Hector nodded and turned to their father with a huff. “I must agree. Paris has broken the rules of hospitality, which could damage our relations with Sparta. Father, she cannot stay.” Priam was unfortunately not having any of this, and would gently approach Paris. “The Greeks… will not return my sister. She has lived away from her home for so long, kept away from her family. If Telamon will not give Hesione back, I see no reason to return Helen as of now. Perhaps we may negotiate and come to fair terms.” Helenus did love his father, but the man was old. His hair grew whiter by the year, and perhaps the time was coming to just make Hector king already. On top of that, Priam had straight up ignored all warnings about this very event. Helenus did feel a bit bad for Helen, as the poor girl looked like she absolutely didn’t ask for this. At least she hadn’t done this shit willingly. As the gentle king moved back to stand with his wife, Paris would once again haughtily speak up. “Would you look at that? Father agrees! So I think we’re done here, me and my new wife will be going now-” Paris was once more interrupted by Helenus trying to punch him, raising a surprised gasp from Helen. This time, Hector quite literally lifted the seer up by the back of his tunic and threw him back. “ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!” Taking a deep breath, his older brother continued, “We will discuss this matter in front of the council. Perhaps the royal advisors will be able to talk some sense into you. Helenus, you and I must speak later. And Paris, at least give the poor girl some privacy to bathe.” With another huff, Hector was off, likely to go to the stables to calm down after this misery. Priam accompanied Paris and Helen to the prince’s chambers, where perhaps Priam would come to his senses and talk Paris out of this. Hecuba, however, would approach Helenus and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You warned them, didn’t you?” Honestly, Helenus quite liked his mother. She was sensible and smart, plus she’d mostly raised him and his siblings while Priam had been busy with royal duties. Or other women. Hecuba would start walking to the gardens, beckoning Helenus to follow. “I did. I told them not to send him there, because exactly this would happen. I told you. Why didn’t you listen? Why couldn’t you convince father?” He asked, a tone of pleading in his voice. He was much calmer now, either from not having to see Paris or from the grounding presence of his mother. “Believe me, I tried. Your father’s quite convinced that nothing wrong will come of this. Neither of us can blame him for wanting his sister back, however, because how would you feel if Cassandra was taken away? Or Ilione, or Polyxena?” She was right… sort of. Priam rightfully wanted Hesione back, but keeping Helen in Troy was not the way to do it. Helenus had seen glimpses of fire and ruin, people dying and the city crumbling. That couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t happen.

#helenus #my writing #hector of troy #paris of troy #priam #hecuba #helen of troy #trojan war #idek where i'm going with this #if i'm going anywhere #i felt the need to write it though so lol

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hellotherekenobi · 4 years

Text

─── in hot water.

summary: obi-wan is not only your fellow padawan but your best friend too. however, this raises issues from both your masters and following the rules becomes more difficult than ever.

a/n: special thank you to @obi-wankenobae & @anakinni3 for helping me out with this one - it would most likely have sat in the drafts for three more years if it weren’t for them.

ONESHOT. ⟶ 2,294 WORDS.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your laughter reverbs off of the stone walls, circling around you and the reason for your laughter; Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has always been a source of happiness for you, even a source of comfort. He seems to always know what to say and how to make you feel better when you’ve had a particularly grueling day training as a Padawan. Your only wish is that you could see him more regularly than you do-- being Mace Windu’s Padawan and he Qui-Gon Jinn’s, the only times you could see each other was in moments between missions and training, or the occasional recon. He’s become somewhat of an anchor and a good friend too.

“You must be lying,” chuckling, you lean toward him.

He smiles, shaking his head, “I promise you it’s the truth.”

“No!”

“I promise!”

Another fit of laughter echoes around the room, which is sliced in half when a voice shouts your name and you’re sitting up straight; eyes at where the voice had come from and you gulp. Obi-Wan can feel the tension; a much different weight in the air than the light, bubbly ambiance the filled it just a moment before.

“I thought I had left you to meditate,” Mace says with a stern look, and with Qui-Gon behind him.

“As did I for you, Obi-Wan.” He says, arms crossed.

“Sorry, master.” Both you and Obi-Wan croak out, feeling extremely foolish for having been caught in something as simple as laughing.

It hadn’t been the first time and you’re sure it won’t be the last; Obi-Wan and yourself have always been so close that you find it hard not to be happy when he’s around. You remember back to when the two of you were just younglings; running across the room toward the other just to say hello. Neither Master Qui-Gon or Mace Windu could catch you when you two saw each other. Growing up, that instant joy was channeled into laughter. And it was becoming a nuisance to your master.

“Come now, Obi-Wan. We have much to do and we wouldn’t want to keep Senator Cyone waiting again, would we?” Qui-Gon hums, extending his hand out for his Padawan to walk toward him.

Obi-Wan shivers at the thought of the Senator, which only makes you chuckle. Your master clears his throat, crossing his arms along his chest, and you go quiet. Obi-Wan pats your knee before standing-- an act that has Qui-Gon staring at his Padawan with a raised head, though Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to notice-- saying goodbye and walking away with his master who says his goodbyes also. Now, it’s just you and your master. You’ve already shrunk into the couch you’re sitting on, looking up at Master Windu without lifting your head. You can already hear it coming; how many times have I told you...

“(Y/N), how many times have I told you?”

There it is.

“I know. I’m sorry, master. It won’t happen ag--”

“Don’t say it won’t happen again because you’ve said that every time now.”

“Sorry...”

Windu sighs, “There is nothing wrong with happiness, (Y/N). But you must learn on putting your feelings aside.”

“Yes, master.” You speak, barely audible, as he steps to the side for you to walk with him.

“You and Obi-Wan...” Windu speaks up after a while of silent walking down the hallway, “...are very close.”

The breath hitches in your throat as you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “Yes, we’ve known each other since we were younglings.”

“I know that.” He says it so matter-of-fact that you almost wince at the words, “It’s almost as if you’re siblings.”

Your eyebrows furrow as a reaction to that sentence; a growing expression of disgust on your face-- Obi-Wan... your brother? No. That is in no way how you feel about him. Surely, your master must realize that-- ...oh. Looking at him quickly, you find he’s already staring at you and the two of you stop walking. His eyes almost bore into yours and you try to lighten your expression but it’s not exactly working and, by the looks of things, it’s not exactly convincing either.

“(Y/N).” He chides and you’re almost tempted to mimic his tone, “You can be honest with me.”

No, I can’t - you think to yourself as your eyes dance across the hallway; past the opening on the other end, past the archways on your left, through the frames to watch the Coruscant sky outside. How can you tell your master that you’ve broken the one rule you had been given to meditate on the most; to not develop attachments and certainly not to fall in love with anyone?

His hand presses onto your shoulder, “I think you need to--”

“No.” you speak over him, still refusing to meet his gaze, “I don’t want to.”

“The fact that you don’t want to means that you know you need to.”

“I don’t want to.” You finally look at him, trying to hold even some ground against him but it’s futile and you know it, “I don’t want a self-examination!”

Mace sighs, tilting his head disapprovingly to the side. This was something that he always held against you-- these self-examinations-- and you hated it. It was like a reality check, something to slap you in the face and show you how hysterical you’re being about something. When all other tactics and lessons failed to reach you, Mace always knew that this would drive the dagger home.

The Jedi who walk the temple hallway give you and your master glances as they past you both, and the attention has you shrinking into yourself as Mace simply smiles at them; you feeling so small compared to your master.

His eyes are back on you the instant the Jedi are far away enough not to hear him speak, “Think it over. That’s all I’m asking.”

Sure, think it over-- how bad could that actually be? Well, apparently, very bad. You’re currently groaning with dread in your quarters; hand on your forehead as you lie on the bed you hadn’t made this morning. You felt something with Obi-Wan, you always have. It was hard to push any feeling for him aside because of how much you liked it. But you knew just as much as your master does that this is the problem; you knowing your error but not wanting at all to rectify it.

So, you try a different tactic. You don’t force yourself to stop talking to him or stop thinking about him, just simply avoid spending so much time with him. Conversations between you two were often so long that Jedi and Senators alike would have to separate you both, but now you’ve cut that time in half. You cling onto the hope that Obi-Wan won’t notice the difference but who are you kidding? Of course he notices. He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He calls your name from behind you, making you jump and accidentally push the wrong button on the screen in front of you-- a loud, whirling sound churning out of the device, causing eyes from every direction to look over at the ruckus you’re causing. A calm hand glides past yours frantically searching for the button to turn the noise off and finally the sound silences-- but his hand is on yours.

“Are you alright?” He asks, innocently at that.

“I’m fine.” You breathe out, drawing your hand back and refusing to give him eye contact as you go back to reading the report off of the screen.

He sighs before sitting down beside you, leaning his elbow on the table and in effect pressing his arm into yours. He opens his mouth to speak again but you’re faster, “Obi-Wan, please. I’m sorry but I need to concentrate on this. My master is expecting me back at the Council room soon.”

For an added show of politeness, you flash him a quick smile but he looks right through you-- almost just as well as your master had done that other day in the hallway. His eyebrow raises when your smile falters.

“Something’s on your mind.” He says.

“Of course there is, Obi-Wan. There’s always something on my mind. It would be a concern if there wasn’t.”

“Don’t try and cover this with humor. You can tell me anything, you know that?”

You whisper, “I know that.”

“Then why have you been pushing me away?” He leans in closer, just like a person would when telling someone a secret.

“It’s complicated...”

“How so?”

“I can’t exactly explain.”

He places his hand on top of yours, “You can try.” He smiles softly, “It’s me.”

Feeling yourself deflate in your chair and by the touch of his thumb rubbing against your hand, you breathe out, “Yeah... it’s you.”

He doesn’t seem to understand at first, only thinking that you were repeating his words and would be telling him your issue soon, but after a moment, when he sees the wary etched into your brows, he realizes with a slowly gaping mouth that you had just told him your issue-- it’s him.

“Oh,” he whispers, taking a moment before continuing, “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Obi-Wan. You don’t have to.” You whisper back to him.

But he doesn’t seem to hear you; he looks lost in thought, staring across the room as if he were reading the words from the screen on the table. You almost convince yourself that you can see his eyes shifting across each line. Then he blinks, looking down and slipping his hand away from yours, your skin now cold from the lack of contact, before repeating, “I’m sorry.”

Then he stands up so abruptly that the chair legs squeak as they get pushed back and he’s almost sprinting out of the room; eyes from everyone in the library watching him as he goes. And you’re left sitting at the table and staring at the empty space beside you.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Your eyebrow twitches for what feels like the tenth time in the last few minutes and if you weren’t trying to meditate right now then you’re sure you would scream. Instead, you sigh and turn to look over at your master who is, just as you’ve thought, staring directly at you.

“What is it, master?” You inquire, “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not wrong, no.” He says seriously and draws out the silence far too long for your liking before saying, “That’s the problem.”

“What?”

“You’ve followed orders very well in these last few weeks, better than you have ever done before.”

“All thanks to your training.” You murmur, turning back around to close your eyes and slip into meditation once more.

But your eyebrow twitches again. He’s still staring at you.

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” He explains, “You and Obi-Wan have both been very dedicated in your missions and very... dedicated in not speaking to one another.”

“We’re fine.”

“...Are you?”

It’s as if a bubbling feeling suddenly rushes up your spine and before your master can speak your name, you jump up to stand on your feet and point a finger at him, “No! Don’t say it!”

Windu raises his hands in innocence, “It’s only a suggestion--”

“I don’t want another self-examination, alright! I know what’s going on and I know what I did was the right decision, so stop pestering me.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Groaning, you fall back down to the matted floor to try and get back into your meditation mindset but it’s failing and altogether does fail when you feel your master’s hand pressed onto your shoulder.

“What happened?”

You shake your head, “I did what you said. I took a step back.”

You can almost hear the cogs in his head turning, “Well... it doesn’t seem as if it has done much good... for either of you.” You turn to look at him as he continues, “Yes, you’ve been dedicated to your missions and you’re to be commended for that. But Master Qui-Gon has told me that he senses a loneliness in his Padawan... and I sense that same loneliness in you.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“I don’t want you to.”

You stare at him quizzically, “Why not?”

“Because,” he sighs, “despite better judgement, you and Obi-Wan need each other.”

“But... but I thought the whole point of this was to avoid attachments?”

Windu smiles, “Yes, well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

─────── ⋯ ───────

The noise from downstairs is causing Windu pain; he wants to reach up and rub his temples from the volume of it all. The sound he had grown used to and the very same one he had encouraged to return, he now wants to stop. He’s a Jedi Master and should have some sort of self-control but in the name of the Force itself, he swears he’s going to throw something if the noise doesn’t settle down soon.

“Can you both please be quiet!” He shouts out, leaning over the railing to watch the two Padawans-- Obi-Wan and yourself-- huddled by each other with the biggest smiles on your faces.

In unison, Windu hears, “Sorry, master!” followed by snickering and whispered words exchanged between the two.

Qui-Gon chuckles from beside Windu who stands up straight again, snapping his gaze over at his fellow master who seems to be enjoying himself, “They’re learning.”

“Not fast enough.” Windu groans. “We shouldn’t have let them off so easily. This will bring nothing but trouble.”

“Yes, trouble, most likely, but not nothing.” Qui-Gon leans over to watch the radiance that surrounds you and Obi-Wan-- the affection that he knows will never die between you two and one he hopes to see utilized one day-- and he smiles to himself, “Not nothing.”

#i just: shrug #better than nothing i suppose?#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan imagines #obi-wan fanfic #obi-wan fanfiction #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars prequels #ewan mcgregor #oneshot

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jacksgreysays · 3 years

Note

For fake title: still waters (run deep) character: Shisui and or theme: Uzushio

The fisherman doesn't look surprised when Shisui arrives, not by the suddenness of his appearance or his age or the fact that, excepting the crow on his shoulder, he is entirely alone. No, the fisherman is not surprised, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed either: a large man, nearly two heads taller than Shisui with muscle honed through hard work. But it is a civilian level strength. For all that the fisherman is accustomed to shinobi, he is no match for one.

"You're headed to Uzushio, huh?" the fisherman says, less a question than an accusation without any heat.

"Yes, I am" Shisui answers anyway with a polite sort of cheer; there is a reason why he's the one being sent to Uzushio and not one of his cousins. "Tazuna-san said you're the best at navigating the whirlpools."

The fisherman gives him a skeptical glance which is fair. What Tazuna actually said was that if Shisui was fool enough to go to Uzushio, then this particular fisherman would at least make sure Shisui's fool head didn't get dashed on the rocks of the shore.

But the fisherman shrugs, accepting enough, and tilts his head at a small wooden boat tied to the dock with nets bulging with fish. "That one's mine. Are you in a rush? Because I have to get these to the monger first."

"No, I can wait," Shisui says, because that's the polite thing to do and if this fisherman is his best way to Uzushio then its worth waiting for... except, as Kansoku reminds him with a sharp tug on his hair, he is actually kind of in a rush. Shisui is a shinobi, so of course he's smelled worse, and so he doesn't wrinkle his nose at all when he offers, "Would you like some help? Four hands are faster than two."

"Alright, kid, I'll take you up on that." The fisherman's expression lightens into a wide, friendly smile and Shisui who can't help himself, returns it with one of his own. The fisherman introduces himself, "You can call me Kaiza."

---

A few weeks ago, Hidden Rain broke their decades-long silence with increasingly concerning news:

Hanzo the Salamander long dead.

A heretofore unknown organization leading the village.

Active recruitment and retainment of various S-rank shinobi.

A grudge against one Shimura Danzo, former council member of Hidden Leaf.

One year--maybe even as little as a month or two previous--would have made this the most momentous occasion in international shinobi politics since the last world war.

Unfortunately, it only just barely makes top three in the past year.

---

"So, kid," Kaiza says as they're coasting over the waves at a clip much faster than Shisui would have thought possible for the small wooden boat, "You're from Leaf, right?"

"Yes." It's literally on his forehead and more straightforward than some of the other villages' symbols, but Shisui gives him the benefit of the doubt. Kaiza is a civilian, after all. And to be fair, some of the Uchiha elders were considering changing it to match the new regime, but Fugaku-san--sorry, Hokage-sama, Shisui's still getting use to it--felt it would be best to at least try to maintain a semblance of stability.

He doesn't know if news of Konoha's turmoil has reached this far. Or if the people of Wave even care. They certainly didn't bat an eye at Shisui's questions of their new neighbor--old neighbor? returned neighbor?--all incurious shrugs and silence or entertaining but unhelpful tall tales.

"Have you ever met another shinobi?" Shisui asks conversationally, though he already knows the answer to that question. "Am I your first shinobi passenger?"

"I've seen a few Mist ninja from a distance. A very far distance, thankfully," Kaiza responds, casual and earnest; Shisui sees no reason to doubt him. "Never had a ninja join me sailing on my boat before, though. Not one that helped me unload my haul. You're a good kid."

Shisui has killed more men than there had been fish wriggling in those nets. He appreciates the sentiment anyway. Kaiza is an honest sort of man, Shisui is glad to have met him.

He could use more straightforwardness in his life.

---

The Mist Rebellion overthrew the Yondaime Mizukage after an almost tidy public assassination and thirty six hours of civil war with minimal casualties.

Terumi Mei, newly coronated Godaime Mizukage, only mentions the "grace and goodwill of allies." Neither of those words particularly apply to the surly looking Momochi Zabuza standing two steps back and one step to the right of her, but if there is another ally in the works they're not claiming the limelight.

Hidden Mist has always been a tumultuous village. Tidiness aside, nothing was surprising about it.

---

It's strange.

When Shisui pictured Land of Whirlpools, he had a vague idea mostly cobbled together from the grey, cloudy skies of Mist, or the eternal deluge of Rain, or even the foggy, sepia tones of Wave.

He was not expecting clear skies almost impossibly blue and lush treetops tall enough to rival the forests of Konoha. The beach is pink.

It's vibrant. It's strange. There's a giant chakra turtle monster happily splashing in the shallows, waving tendrils in their direction as a greeting.

The sharp jagged rocks and erratic whirlpools between them and the shore are real, at least, so Shisui hasn't been completely fooled, but from the wry, almost apologetic smile on Kaiza's face, Shisui's not great at hiding his hurt.

Kaiza pulls out a decorative coin--what Shisui had thought was some kind of superstitious fisherman charm that he'd touched before they set sail from Wave--and passes his thumb along the surface. After a moment or two, the swirling slows, the water calms, and the passage is traversable. A small figure appears on the pink beach. The giant chakra turtle monster reaches a gentle tendril out and is metaphorically met half way by an arm absolutely minuscule in comparison.

"Don't worry, kid," Kaiza says reassuringly. It's the kind of statement that would be accompanied with a clap on the shoulder, but whether the fisherman can sense Shisui's betrayal or, more likely, he's been around more shinobi and knows better, he keeps his distance. "Tazuna vouched for you and you didn't even get mad when the monger threw a fish at you and said it was a cultural tradition."

Kansoku had been less than pleased and Shisui's shirt still smells like fish.

"You'll be fine. She'll like you."

---

There is an oasis in Land of Wind. An earthquake in Land of Hot Springs caused the controlled collapse of a temple and new arrangements of the surrounding town's infrastructure. A dilapidated and forgotten shrine in the outskirts of Land of Fire was completely relocated across the ocean. Only the first has any sort of influence on shinobi politics and even that has more to do with the Yondaime Kazekage's sudden attitude adjustment than anything else.

But the revival of a nation thought long dead with the power to back it up?

Well, even if Konoha is still struggling to cobble together a government, it's the sort of occasion to send one of their best and brightest as an ambassador even if there's no firm idea what might be on the other end of the journey.

---

"Hello, Uchiha Shisui of Hidden Leaf," says the girl on the shores of Land of Whirlpools. Somehow, even with the grown man twice his size and the giant chakra turtle monster, she's the scarest thing on the beach.

Which is still bafflingly, vibrantly pink.

"I heard you were asking questions about Uzushio," she says, with a smile as dangerous and beautiful as the land she's made her home. "Let's talk."

A/N: Sometimes, you’re in a writer’s block and a prompt just punches you into the right headspace. Thank you, damnsmartblueboxes. (You know I have so many Uzushio feelings, how dare you! :D)

If anyone wants to ask me questions about this, please do. Please.

Oh, but I should clarify here: this was written intending to be in a post-Split Gardens!verse. But if you’re reading this you probably have already read some of the Gardens!verse stuff so...

Also, yes, Kaiza is the fisherman who would’ve been killed by Gato and now kinda works for Shikako as a more active and less suspicious Sazanami from the Land of Stone Arc. I mean, kinda all of Wave works for Shikako? But in a much more benevolent way than that might imply. They’re fond of their weird neighbor with her giant chakra turtle monster.

(Also, also, yes, Tetsuki Kaiza does get her name from this Kaiza though in the Naruto world she actually never has the name Kaiza. She goes from orphan Tetsuki no-family-name to either Tetsuki Utsugi or Agent Shu. Depending on how fucked her situation is)

Also, also, also: Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020!

#jacksgreyson #damnsmartblueboxes #ask box advent calendar #ask box fake fic titles #writing #fanfiction #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #the many gardens of shikabane-hime #still waters (run deep)#kaiza #shisui uchiha #shikako nara

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duxhess-kryzewan · 4 years

Note

Prompt: perhaps something where Satine confronts him for never saying ‘I love you’ back? Can be as angsty/fluffy as you want

- Implicitly -

The knock at her door startles her. It was much too late for anyone in her council to be seeking to consult her, and she's fairly positive her guards would not disturb her unless it were an actual emergency, which she was fairly certain was not the case. That only left one option of who it could possibly be.

"General Kenobi." She greets lightly. The word 'General' feels foreign on her tongue. Gone were the days that he was a young and rambunctious Padawan she supposed, and instead a hardened version of what had once been. War does not play favorites in who it scars.

"Your grace," he says, offering her a polite smile, "I just came to see how you were holding up. You've had quite the eventful evening."

She nods, "Quite the eventful evening indeed, but I am fairing out fine. Such is the territory when being the figurehead of the neutral systems. It's not my first brush with danger and unfortunately I don't think it'll be my last."

Something in his expression changes; it becomes softer, more concerned. The need to remind him that she's more than capable of taking care of herself nags in the back of her head, but she decides to keep that to herself. There was no sense in telling him something he already knew.

"I certainly hope it's the last time anything like that occurs. I don't even like to fathom the possibility of something happening to you."

A slight flutter surges through her chest at the admission. Oh how a sentence can be so simple and yet so complicated. Does he have any idea what saying that does to her?

"I'm sorry," she says, suddenly remembering that they were having this conversation in her doorway, "Where are my manners, please come in."

She can all but feel his uncertainty, or perhaps it was her own. Neither of them looked particularly certain about the suggestion, but she steps aside none the less. To her relief, he makes his way in the room.

"We haven't really had much time to catch up, have we?" She finds herself saying. It's more an attempt to fill the heavy silence the permeates around them than anything else, "Always as we have been; duty before anything else."

"Well," he says, "Not always before anything else."

The boyish smile he gives her is so reminiscent of their younger years that she can't help the blush that spreads over her cheeks.

"Forgive me," he says, clearly noticing the redness of her cheeks, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

She shakes her head. Oh how he was ever the gentleman, "No, no, I'm not embarrassed, I'm just not accustomed to hearing you speak so brashly. It's fine, what's a bit of reminiscing between friends," she pauses, "We are friends, aren't we Obi-Wan?"

He takes slow and calculated steps around her suite, observing the various knick knacks and pieces of furniture throughout the room. She recognized the pensiveness in his walk. For all the things that changed about him since they had last seen one another, that had not.

"Is that what we're calling each other these days?"

She had been reaching for her untouched glass of wine when he spoke; the words causing her to freeze mid motion.

"I..." she stutters, her mind working a mile a minute to come up with something to say, but she comes up blank. Is that what she would call them? They certainly were more than friends once upon a time, but now? She would like to believe they were, but believing in far off dreams has never worked in her favor before.

"I would hope so," she finally manages to get out, "I certainly don't trust anyone as much as you."

He stares at her so intently that she has the sudden urge to look away; as if his eyes could burn right through her. To an extent, they do.

"Friends don't reveal such confession at the threat of death. That insinuates a bit more than friendship."

She sighs. God, she was tired. So very tired.

"You never said it back, Obi-Wan." She says, "Then, I mean. Before when we were on the run. Friendship seems to be the extent of our relationship. And that's okay, I'm grateful for that."

His gaze drops to the floor, and for the first time since they boarded the ship she's able to truly look at him. Time had seemed to have worn away at her Jedi Knight. There were lines peppering his face that hadn't been there before, scars that had been collected through the years decorating his body, a tiredness behind his eyes that said more than words ever could. He had seen so many of the horrors the galaxy holds. She want's nothing more than to run her fingers over the scars and ask him why he was doing this to himself, but she already knows the answer: his dedication to protecting the galaxy would always outweigh his own safety.

"Have I ever told you the story of how Qui-Gon became my master?"

She blinks. Of all things she had been prepared for him to say, that wasn't one of them.

"I don't believe so."

He paces the room, stopping only when he reaches the window looking out over the vastness of space.

"When Qui-Gon found me, I was tending to plants in the AgriCorps." He begins, "I had grown past the age of being a youngling and had not yet been taken as anyone's apprentice. It was what I consider the lowest point in my life. I was angry, and impulsive, and was essentially told I would never be a Jedi because of those emotions."

"But they were wrong," she says, "You're one of the most formidable and wise Jedi in the galaxy.”

He shakes his head, "Not then. It was only by sheer luck that Qui-Gon had stumbled upon me. Without him...well, I don't like to ponder the what ifs. He trained me, helped me become who I am. I learned how to control my temper and my impulses and how to truly become one with the force. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank the stars that I able to be this; to be a Jedi."

A flood of sadness washes over her. How foolish she had been to ever believe he could love her as she loved him, "I'm glad he found you. You got to be everything you wanted."

Finally he turns to look at her, features soft and sad and for a moment she believes - fears, really - he's looking at her with nothing more than pity for the poor girl on the run that never got over him.

To say she was shocked by what follow would be a glorious understatement.

"Satine, when I said I would have left the Jedi order if you had asked, I meant it. Being a Jedi means everything to me, but I would have left. ,I would have left all of it behind had you said the word. That... that is me saying it back."

There's a tingling in her legs. A ringing in her ears. A pounding in her chest. Every part of her body was sent into overdrive and all she can do is stare dumbfounded at him. Surely he wasn't implying what she thought he was.

Right?

"I..." She begins, but struggles to find word, "I could never have asked you to do that."

He smiles sadly at her, "I know, such is the way you and I have chosen to live."

She glances down to her feet and nods, "Duty before love."

"Duty before love." He affirms.

Before she can think better of it, and before he had time to protest, she hastily makes her way to him and pulls him to her. Years may have passed since they last touched, but everything felt so familiar. His scent, his stature, the slight hitch in his breathing when they touched. She could even convince herself that no time had passed if she really wanted too.

She can feel him sigh against her as he presses his lips against her hair, her temple, her cheek. It's not much, nothing close to what may have been, but there and now it was enough. It was enough for her to know that he cared for her too.

In another life, perhaps they would have been.

Inspiration for this story was from this post here!

I take any and all Obitine prompts here!

#obitine #obi wan x satine #obitine fluff #obitine fanfiction #obtine angst #obitine prompt #obi wan and satine #obi wan x satine prompts

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veliseraptor · 4 years

Note

I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way but I think I have a withdrawal for your Loki stuff,,,, I know you’re into other fandom right now and gosh I feel bad for even sending this bc my intention is not to make you feel bad or to rush you, I just want to ask, could I pretty please get a little snippet for whatever Loki fic you have in process? No ass kissing but I haven’t seen anyone write him better than you do and I miss you and your Loki fic. Again I hope this doesn’t sound like I rush you

It’s okay, anon! I mean, I feel guilty but that’s not your fault, that is my fault for the ways in which I feel obligated toward people in fandom and I’m. Trying to not do that and just focus on what Brings Me Joy and whatnot. But I’m truly flattered by the sentiment and also sorry that you’re missing it.

But I’ve got plenty of Loki fic floating around here that I can share with you, so here, have a long snippet that’ll hopefully give you a little bit of ease in this time of me being thoroughly sucked into another fandom.

this being the first three scenes of the fic the first steps stumbling forward, sometimes known as “100 pages of ostensibly Steve/Loki fic and not only no kissing, but also Loki is still solely referring to Steve by his last name only.”

A ship full of Aesir landing on Midgard’s northern hemisphere was, apparently, “a humanitarian crisis.” From what Loki gathered, that meant mostly a great many arguments ensuing about who was going to deal with them, which really seemed to be about if anyone was going to.

Loki almost wanted to see what would happen if someone tried to tell Thor they had to leave. At least so far, though, no one actually had. Perhaps they recognized that there was no one on their planet with the means to actually enforce that decree. At least not for certain.

Not that their entire reception was hostile. Almost as soon as the situation became clear humans began arriving, some simply to gawk but others seemingly with intent to help. Crews of camera-people and reporters swarmed - mostly around Thor, but others like flies around the miserable remnants of Asgard’s people.

Loki, for his part, kept his distance from them. Eventually he supposed someone might mention his name, but until then he planned to avoid that particular difficulty.

He did go to spy on Thor’s meeting with Stark, who had arrived with much fanfare, stepping out of his suit with a too-wide grin and turning to wave before turning to Thor and promptly doing a double-take.

“Buddy,” he said. “What happened to your hair? Also your eye-”

A small smile played around the corner of Thor’s mouth. “That’s a long story.” He glanced past Stark like he was looking for someone else. “You’re alone?”

Stark’s expression did something tight and complicated. “Long story.” He glanced over his shoulder at the snapping cameras. “Can we go somewhere else? Talk in private?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “This way.” He gestured Stark toward the makeshift headquarters they’d set up back inside the ship, and he walked inside fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. Loki slipped in after Thor and took up a position in the corner of the room to listen.

The moment the door closed the last of Stark’s bravado fell away and he turned to Thor looking exhausted. “As good as it is to see you, and as much as I’m - really sorry about--” He gestured awkwardly at their surroundings, “--I gotta tell you that you have the worst timing.” He walked over to the table and sat down. “Where’ve you been? Caught some selfies of you on Instagram the other week - in New York, and you didn’t come say hi - but you still had two eyes at that point.”

One of Thor’s hands rose briefly, still self-consciously, to touch his eye-patch. “Yes,” he said. “I was on Earth. Briefly. As I said, it is a long story. Why do I have poor timing?”

Stark rubbed his eyes. “So, uh, right now? There’s this thing called the ‘Sokovia Accords.’ Basically the idea is to make sure superhumans are, uh, supervised.” Thor’s expression remained impassive. Stark glanced away. “So, see, then you show up with a whole...whole bunch of homeless superhumans, superaliens, and everyone’s not quite sure how you fit into this, what kind of compliance they should be demanding...it’s a whole thing. Secretary Ross - you’ll meet him, he’s awful - he says that Asgard should be under US protection because you were an Avenger and the Avengers were a US team, sort of-”

“‘Were’?” Thor said, just as Loki was thinking it, but he thought he’d already figured it out.

“Yeah,” Stark said after a beat. “There was a bit of a falling out. The point is...you and your people are a problem with a capital ‘P’, as far as the governments on Earth are concerned. And I swear to god I heard something about you bringing the Hulk with you too, which is just - hang on, you’re not serious.”

Loki had gathered enough from this conversation, so as much as he wanted to see Stark’s expression he slipped out. He felt Thor glance toward the door opening, but Stark was too busy making incoherent noises that were either excitement, horror, or both, to notice.

Thor came and found him paring slices out of a small and slightly sour apple. The taste wasn’t pleasant, but at least it was fruit.

“You were eavesdropping,” Thor said, not quite an accusation. Loki gave him a quick, wry smile.

“And?”

Thor sighed, but he didn’t actually seem upset. After a moment he sat down next to Loki. “What did you think?”

“I think,” Loki said, “that your friends have done a better job of tearing themselves apart than I ever could have.” Thor gave him a hard look and Loki raised his eyebrows. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Loki,” Thor said chidingly. Loki shrugged.

“I think it doesn’t change much,” he said. “Midgard’s governments were never going to be happy. They still can’t do very much about it.”

“It also means they won’t help. Or are reluctant to help.”

“True.” Loki glanced down at the half eaten apple in his hands. “Not quite the welcome you expected, hm? Almost makes you wish someone had already conquered this planet.”

Thor’s jaw tightened. “Our people are suffering, Loki.”

Loki held up his hands. “I wasn’t being flippant. Or, I was, but not because I miss the gravity of our situation.” He sighed. “You are just going to have to convince them of our good intentions. While maintaining our independence from the kind of control Stark was describing, as I doubt that would end well.”

“Simple enough,” Thor said.

“And I,” Loki said, “will continue to stay out of the way. If you are now a possible threat…”

Thor rubbed his remaining eye. “Tony thinks that they will ask that the Hulk be turned over.”

Loki barked a laugh. “I’d like to see someone tell Hulk that. From a distance.” Thor’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Is Stark planning to try?”

“No,” Thor said, sounding faintly puzzled. “I asked if he wanted to speak to the Hulk, but he refused. I have no idea why.”

“He’s ashamed of something,” Loki said promptly. “I’d really like to know what. Though not enough to actually pursue it.” Thor frowned at him again. “What?”

Thor shook his head and then pushed himself to his feet. “I have another meeting with this ‘World Security Council’,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Loki said. “Perhaps you should remind them that you’ve saved their planet...how many times is it, now? It’s always possible someone will remember to show some proper gratitude.” He pared another slice off the apple and popped it in his mouth. “If not, you could always set a few nearby trees on fire.”

Thor frowned. “I’m not going to threaten them into submission.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted.”

Thor gave him an exasperated look and left. Loki eyed the rest of the unappetizing apple and almost threw it away, only to remember that their food stores were pitifully limited and largely reliant on the relief crews.

Waste not, he thought wearily, and ate the rest of it. It was almost a pity he’d had a solid three years of soft living to get used to luxury again. He’d lost all the good lessons of the three before that.

By the looks of things, he’d have plenty of time to get them back.

You could always leave, whispered a faint voice, not for the first time. There’s a whole universe to wander.

But if he walked away now, Loki didn’t think he’d ever be able to come back. He’d made his decision, for better or for worse. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had a whole lot of options for other places to go where he wouldn’t be risking his neck just by showing his face. Which...was the case here, too.

Loki made a face at the core he was holding and bit it in half hard enough that his teeth clicked together.

The trouble with having to avoid any and all public appearances was that it severely limited what Loki could actually do. He was skulking about like a thief, confined to administrative tasks behind the scenes.

A not insignificant part of him resented it. He wasn’t proud, but there it was: he had always hated feeling invisible, and now more than ever. He’d gotten too used to the spotlight, just as he’d gotten too used to comfortable living. He should have known neither would last.

He reminded himself it was his own fault. That did not particularly help.

Valkyrie seemed to be having the opposite problem. Asgard’s people were in awe of her. The humans were even more impressed. She, meanwhile, appeared to be trying to avoid both.

This meant they spent a fair amount of time together, since her green best friend was a bit of an attention-getter. (Thor had tried to get him to stay out of sight, but it hadn’t gotten him very far. Still, based on Stark’s reaction, someone was suppressing that bit of news. He had to wonder who.)

“You look cheerful,” Loki said when he found her in - surprise, surprise - the ship’s bar. It was empty, but she seemed to find it comforting just the same. She scowled at him.

“Some Midgardian reporter wants an interview. An interview.”

“Are they going to shoot photos of you? Ask about your fashion sense?”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “Is that what they do?” She paused. “How do you know anything about Midgardian news?”

Loki shrugged. “I stole some magazines from one of our generous volunteers. They’re appalling. I don’t recommend them.”

Valkyrie shook her head and stared at the empty bar. “You’re lucky,” she said. “No one’s trying to talk to you.”

Loki barked a laugh. “Yes,” he said, a little bitterly. “Lucky.”

“You are,” Valkyrie said. “If they were trying to talk to you they’d probably be trying to kill you. Right?”

Loki gave her a flat stare. “Thank you for that.”

She shrugged. “Just saying. You should be ready for that to change at some point. Someone’s going to start talking about Prince Loki and then you’re going to have some problems.”

Loki knew that was probably true. He’d thought about it a few times - he was almost surprised it hadn’t come up. Thus far the limited contact between most of the Aesir and any reporters - Thor had been careful about limiting access to their camp - and Thor’s explicit request to the Asgardians that they were to keep Loki’s name off their tongues had spared him, but that wasn’t likely to last forever. At that point...there would be some difficult decisions to make.

Some bleak part of him wondered what Thor would choose to do if Midgard’s authorities asked for his head.

“Thor’s not going to let them kill you,” Valkyrie said, apparently guessing his thoughts.

“Mm,” Loki said. “Even if it is me or Asgard’s safety here?”

“Thor doesn’t like ultimatums. He really wouldn’t like that one.” She leaned back. “I get all the fretting about that. ‘Oh, Valkyrie, what am I going to do about Loki? We can’t keep him secret forever!’”

Loki had to snort at her imitation, but he didn’t know how to explain to her that he was too aware of the fact that Thor had reached the end of his rope with him, the feeling that he was still walking a narrow bridge above a chasm and there was nothing to catch him if (when) he fell.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Valkyrie said.

“Have you left any alcohol in a five mile radius?” Loki asked caustically. She smiled a little toothily.

“I said you could use some,” she said. “Not that I had any.”

“Helpful.”

The toothy smile faded. “Make you a deal,” she said. “You come up with a way that I can avoid all these people who want me to be a hero, and I’ll threaten anyone who comes after your head with Dragonfang. Sound good?”

Loki gave her a crooked half smile. “I think I can figure something out.”

#anonymous #conversating #loki's a goddamn mess #fic excerpt

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Pikapeppa wears a tinfoil hat: The Arishok in post-Trespasser times

[Warning: this contains spoilers for Trespasser and for Tevinter Nights. Proceed with caution.]

For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m a HUGE FAN of Sten from DA:O. While doing research for my current fic, I was reviewing Tevinter Nights and the Dragon Age Wiki, and I pulled together some threads regarding the qunari and their activities during the time of Tevinter Nights.

In a nutshell: I HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT ARISHOK-STEN’S SAFETY AND WELLBEING.

Read more below the cut!

A quick refresher of qunari rulership

Just as a reminder, the qunari are ruled by three leaders:

The Arishok: the military leader. Leads the antaam, i.e. the army.

The Ariqun: the leader of the priesthood, who are also the scholarly branch of the qunari.

The Arigena: the leader of the craftsmen and support workers of the qunari people.

Together, these three leaders are called the salasari. The salasari are supposed to make decisions jointly about how the qunari people proceed at advancing their own culture and bringing the uneducated bas into the wisdom of the Qun.

A summary of what we know

Sten becomes the Arishok around 9:34-9:35 after Hawke kills the current Arishok in Kirkwall. By the time the Inquisition rolls around in 9:41, he is still the Arishok as confirmed by dialogue between Bull and Varric.

In Trespasser, in the Darvaraad, we find a letter from the qunari to Josephine stating that the Viddasala was acting without the qunari leaders’ official sanction — an indication that their citizens are not as well-controlled and orderly as they would have the rest of the world believe. Of particular note, this letter indicates clearly that “military action has not been approved against the Inquisition. No one in Par Vollen has authorized actions of any kind involving the Exalted Council. Nor will they.” To me, this speaks of an Arishok who is being quite conservative in his actions. Similarly, in world states where Bull becomes a Tal-Vashoth, the qunari did not send military action against the Inquisition even when the Inquisition reneged on their hoped-for alliance.

All but one of the stories in Tevinter Nights take place post-Trespasser, and the qunari feature heavily in these stories. The book opens with Three Trees to Midnight, which tells of the qunari making a bold and unprecedented attack on the Tevinter city of Ventus. Importantly, it is mentioned that the antaam (i.e. the qunari army) are acting without the support of the priesthood or the workers:

Usually the other Qunari were there to support the Antaam—the workers crafting the gear and managing supplies, the Tamassran priests making sure the Antaam were healthy in mind as in body, the Ben-Hassrath spies scouting behind enemy lines and removing any Antaam who might forsake their training and abandon the Qun. This time, the Antaam had attacked the bas of the south without the blessing of the other Qunari, and little things were not working as well as they should. Supplies were late. Ships were not in good repair.

When I read this, alarm bells immediately went off in my mind. It seems odd to me that the antaam would suddenly attack Tevinter on what feels like an impulsive move, without the support of the two other branches of the Qun. Importantly, the antaam is under the Arishok’s (i.e. Sten’s) rule, and I thought it was VERY out of character that he would do something so anti-qunari as to basically go rogue without the support of the Arigena or the Ariqun.

Another relevant story is Brother Genitivi Dies At The End. In this story, Brother Genitivi, Philliam, a Bard!, and another lesser-known but infamous writer named Formerly Sister Laudine form a reluctant team to recover books from an elvhen library that, for some reason, has “fallen” underground in the Silent Plains in Tevinter. The mission is cut short by a qunari named Rasaan, and the three writers manage to snatch a small number of elvhen tomes before narrowly escaping from Rasaan and her soldiers. It very important to note that in this story, Rasaan refers to the army as being “my antaam”, and it is emphasized and pointed out that she called the antaam “hers”.

I should say now that I haven’t read any of the DA comics. On a whim, I decided to look up Rasaan in the Dragon Age Wiki, and I discovered that Rasaan is a prominent character in the comic Dragon Age: Those Who Speak, and that she belonged not to the military branch of the Qun, but to the priesthood/scholarly branch, and that she was next in line to become the Ariqun. The wiki says the following: “Rasaan was stranded in the Qunari city of Qunandar, unable to perform her duties. Since a new Arishok was chosen in 9:34 Dragon, Rasaan has been at his side almost constantly.” It’s also interesting to note that Rasaan has a particular interest in people’s ‘true names’ and believes that a person’s many names or titles are indicative of their character, their triumphs, and their failings.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego Sten????

OKAY. To sum up, then, the qunari situation in the post-Trespasser Tevinter Nights era is as follows:

The antaam, usually governed by the Arishok, has gone rogue, and it would be very out of character for Sten-Arishok to sanction this without the okay of his co-leaders.

Rasaan, a higher-up of the priesthood, is in mainland Thedas chasing down information about Solas and referring to the antaam as hers.

From this, I can only conclude that Arishok-Sten is not fully in charge of the antaam anymore, and that Rasaan plays a major role in this. Maybe Rasaan has pulled a coup and is trying to take over as the new Arishok, believing that ‘Arishok’ is supposed to be her true name. If this is the case, WHERE IS STEN? Is he a prisoner back in Par Vollen, perhaps? Stuck working in a labour camp? Or… Maker fucking forbid, is he dead?

Personally, I don’t think Arishok-Sten is dead, and this is not just my undying love for him that’s talking. There are indicators in Three Trees to Midnight that, even though the antaam has gone rogue and some of the qunari are acting extremely cruel, there other qunari who are still trying to maintain the integrity of the Qun. One example is the character named Saarbak, a Ben-Hassrath agent who has been tasked with removing threats to the Qun such as the overly cruel qunari. Characters like Saarbak make me think that the qunari are divided within themselves: there are those who have been impatient to move on Thedas, leading to the hasty attack on Ventus, and there are those who are trying to maintain the integrity and order of the Qun, such as Saarbak. And it’s my belief that Arishok-Sten is one of these honourable qunari, and that he is still alive and may play a significant role in DA4.

Fen’Harel ma ghilana: Solas’s interference

There's one other piece of qunari involvement that should be mentioned. At the end of Trespasser, Solas says that “in stopping the Dragon’s Breath, you have prevented an invasion by qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace.” It does not seem coincidental to me that a year or so after Solas says this, this is exactly what happens — particularly in light of the story called Half Up Front. In this story, it is discovered that Fen’Harel’s agents are purposely trying to fan the flames of the war between the qunari and Tevinter.

Why would Solas be trying to do this, though? Especially after telling the Inquisitor that he wants the people of the Inquisitor’s time to “die in comfort” free from the Qun? My conclusion is that Solas is trying to prevent the former Inquisitor from allying with Tevinter or the qunari. If they’re caught up in a war with each other, neither Tevinter nor the qunari will have the resources (or fucks to give) to invest in military efforts against an alleged elven god. I also think that Solas has no qualms about screwing Tevinter over by throwing them under the metaphorical bus of the qunari, given their longtime treatment of slaves and spirits. (Please note that I say all of this with great love, as I also have undying love for the Dread Egg.)

DA4 hopes: allying with the qunari

Based on the above, it’s my hope that a big part of DA4 will involve stopping an all-out war between Tevinter and the qunari, and then gaining the cooperation of both groups to help The Group Formerly Known As The Inquisition™ to stop Solas’s plans. It’s my even greater hope that the qunari portion of this will involve finding Arishok-Sten, restoring him his place as the rightful Arishok, and thereby securing his alliance to stop Solas. It’s my even greater GREATER hope that the Hero of Ferelden will play a role in this and have some ACTUAL FACETIME in the game by helping us to broker an alliance with Sten.

Of course, it’s a Bioware game so there has to be choice, so the choice here might be between helping Sten vs. helping Rasaan, but I’m sure you can all see where I would stand on this. (I just want Sten and his kadan to have a sweet sweet reunion, okay?? My tender heart is soft and weak for him.)

Okay, that’s it! Them’s my thoughts! Sorry if this has already been laid out before by somebody else – I just had to word-vomit my thoughts because of STEN FEELS.

Feel free to comment or reblog, but please do not use this as a forum to discuss the pros or cons of the Qun. I am wholeheartedly middle-ground on the Qun and can see both sides, so please refrain from that rhetoric here.

Finally, a little self-promotion: I ship Sten with my Warden Yara Mahariel, and have written a relatively short fic about their romance, which takes place during the ship ride from Denerim to Par Vollen after the Fifth Blight is ended. It’s called Fall Into The Tide, and you can feel free to check it out on AO3!

- Love from your friendly neighbourhood Pikapeppa xoxo

#sten #sten dragon age #dragon age lore #tevinter nights #tevinter nights spoilers #qunari #anaan esaam qun #da lore #trespasser dlc #solas #da4 speculation #da4 hopes

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fanfic-corner · 4 years

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Dystopia Fics

I am a sucker for the end of the world. One of the first Destiel fics I ever read was set in the apocalypse, so thanks for hooking me, I guess! Anyway, here are some fics set during the end of days.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31, 252 words).

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time.When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be.But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: I think this was the second Destiel fic I ever read, and I must have reread it at least twice. The ending was slightly unsatisfying, but otherwise I loved it.

Say Yes by MaggieMaybe160 on AO3. (7,996 words).

Tags: Episode: s05e04 The End, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Cheating, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Canon Compliant, Nearly Human Castiel, Dreams vs Reality, POV Alternating, Love Triangles, Idiots in Love, Marriage Proposal, Chronic Pain.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Endverse!Dean's life is going pretty well with Endverse!Cas until Dean's past self shows up.A look at the episode "The End" from Season 5 from Endverse!Dean's point of view.

Notes: I’m counting the Endverse as the apocalypse here, because technically it is, right? Anyway, it was a great episode, this is a great fic, and believe me when I say the ending gave me chills.

4545 by anyrei and mugglerock on AO3. (120,335 words).

Tags: Dystopia, Post-Apocalypse AU, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Innocent Sam, Innocent Dean, Innocent Castiel, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Kiss, Minor Character Death, Past Tortutre, PTSD, Sam Winchester is in Love.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Albert Einstein predicted that, while he didn’t know with what weapons World War III would be fought, World War IV would be fought with sticks and stones. He wasn’t far off.Humanity is surviving in a world without daylight, in a society where emotions are a luxury no one is allowed to have. But how important is surviving when you have nothing to live for? Two hunters find the answer to that question when they stumble over a miracle in the shape of a strange, blue-eyed man in a beige coat bearing… chocolate? Whatever that is.

Notes: This fic has such an interesting universe which is so well crafted and explored that it probably would have been one of my favourite fics, if it wasn’t for some of the most awkward explanations of sex and actual sex I have ever read in my life. Not sure if it is just because I’m ace, but I might need some mind bleach for some of that.

Road to Redemption by adestielable on AO3. (34,450 words).

Tags: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence, Semi-explicit sex, mutants, Utopia inside a Dystopia, Happy Ending, Character Death.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester was taken by Knights, bounty hunters, when he was fifteen, and is the only person to escape Heaven. When a new rebellion rises and tries to recruit him, he wants to do anything in his power to decline. He made a promise to his father to protect his family, and letting them join a rebellion isn't protecting them.The leader of the rebellion makes it hard to keep his carefully and painfully crafted walls up, though. And Dean soon finds himself falling.

Notes: The author should definitely have more confidence in their work - it was quite good! They created a really interesting world, and even though I’ve read way more Destiel fics set in the apocalypse than I probably should, it still managed to surprise me, and I really enjoyed it. The only reason I gave it 3 stars was because I wish it was slightly longer, as the ending felt a bit rushed.

The Elysium High by EllenOfOz on AO3. (44,768 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse AU, Los Angeles, Dystopia AU, Angels are Dicks, Addict Sam Winchester, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Witch Sam Winchester, Detective AU, Confused Castiel, Drugged Sex, Slow Burn, Cyborg Castiel, Nanotechnology.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers.Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet.Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along.But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.

Notes: This fic reminds me of another I read which was basically the exact same but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with it; personally I don’t ship Sam and Ruby (Jared and Gen are cute though) but I did enjoy the season 4 vibes.

Anyway, enjoy these fics (or don’t I guess) and if you have any fic recs of your own, please tell me!

#Destiel #sabriel #ficrecs #apocalypse #dystopia #supernatural

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mostfacinorous · 3 years

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GO Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27]

The cause of the freezing, humans determined, was either merely ‘nature’ or ‘the growing climate crisis’, depending on whether the person speaking believed in that sort of thing. Either way, everyone could agree that it was unusual to unheard of, and no one much appreciated it.

It had eased off a bit, though-- still frozen, so the snow and ice was sticking around, but the wind had died off and the snow was no longer coming down in buckets, for which they were all very grateful.

The Bentley remained where she’d been parked since that first attempted afternoon out, and the plowed mountain behind her only grew ever higher and ever thicker.

Much like their American cousins from years prior, local heads of council had to remind their followers not to jump out of upper floor windows and into the snow, for fear of cars lurking underneath, and injuries that could and would result from such foolishness.

It didn’t fully stop it from happening, but it might have deterred an idiot or two.

Fortunately, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale was particularly interested in jumping out of windows.

There were, however, interested in having a bit of a walk, as it had warmed up enough to allow for it again, and they were feeling a little cooped up.

And so they packed their cocoa and coffee into a couple of thermoses-- carefully color coordinated in black and lightest blue tartan, so as to never be confused with The Thermos, of which they did not speak-- and headed to the park for a bit of time in the watery grey sun of London in winter.

The streets were clear enough to walk on safely and carefully, but the path round the lake was only worn down by others’ feet, and the snow had been trampled enough to have turned to mud, then frozen back to ice in places, making their usual habit of walking and talking more dangerous.

They had decided, after God’s admonition about getting closer, to try and keep their time apart to a minimum. This suited them both quite well, considering the trials and tribulations they’d faced of late, and it was delightful to finally have an excuse to be around one another that neither side could really argue with. After all, not being near Aziraphale when God arrived had put Crowley out of commission for days, and if he had been close, She may not have come at all. Thwarting at its finest, on both sides of the line.

And so, if they held hands to help steady one another, there wasn’t anything Heaven nor Hell could do about it, short of shaking their heads with disgust.

“I miss the ducks.” Crowley said suddenly, interrupting the silence that had descended as their last conversational topic had waned.

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked, surprised. “You always treat them quite poorly; I thought you disliked them.”

“I do not!” Crowley protested. “I play with them. Same as how they play with one another, innit?”

Aziraphale held his thoughts on the matter. He did glance out across the lake, though.

“I wonder how firmly frozen it is. Do you suppose they will be able to ice skate on it, after a storm like that?”

Crowley tilted his head and looked out over the ice.

“At least a couple of ‘em are gonna give it a go. Look.” He nodded off near the high reeds, where the ducks liked to put their eggs come spring, and where a few children appeared to be slipping off their shoes, with plans of skating over the ice in their stockings.

“Heavens.” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps we ought to do something to stop them.” He began heading in that direction, a little too far off to be heard if he yelled.

“Bit too late for that, Angel!” He heard as Crowley raced past him, realizing as he did that he’d pressed his mobile into Aziraphale’s hands. He looked up to see a child take off from the edge straight towards the middle of the pond-- and promptly fall through the ice and into the waters below.

“Bugger.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath.

Crowley was fast, faster than the other children, even, and he shouted for them to stay as he slid on his stomach towards the hole in the ice.

Aziraphael fumbled with the phone for a spare moment, then got a call in to emergency services. “Hello, yes, I am in St. james’ park, just north of the playground on the birdcage side of the lake-- a child has fallen through the ice and my partner has gone in after them. No, no, I can’t see-- they’ve surfaced. Please send help, I’m going to give you to a child now.”

Aziraphale handed the phone off to the young girl who was standing by, mouth agape.

“Help them find us, please.” He told her, a touch of miracle in his voice to give her the courage she needed to do the job, and then he turned to the lake.

“Crowley?” He called to the man who was clutching at the ice with inhumanly sharp talons that had sprouted from his fingers while he held a boy between his chest and the rim of the hole. “What can I do to help?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley had lost his glasses, and his eyes were wide.

“Don’t come out on the ice- it’s not gonna hold.” Even as he spoke, his fingers on one hand went crashing through the surface, sending them both bobbing as the boy cried out.

“Tail!” Aziraphale shouted, hoping Crowley had enough presence of mind to handle the change. He had always been a better swimmer while serpentine, and perhaps, that done--

He saw the moment that Crowley gained the advantage and they became a little steadier in the water.

“Now then-- if you have to, put him on your back, and break the ice away between you and the shore until you can climb out safely!”

Aziraphale felt next to useless, but he supposed at least one of them had a mind that was not freezing or panicking, and thus was able to assist that way.

“You hear that?” He heard Crowley mumbling comfortingly to the boy. “I’m going to give you a piggy ride now. You hold on tightly, understand? And I’ll soon have us out of here.”

Aziraphale watched, fretting terribly as Crowley helped the boy to climb around on the other side of him, and then began the process of smashing through the ice with his claws.

Aziraphale turned around and saw the fire brigade approaching, an ambulance in tow, and turned back to warn Crowley to hide his transformations.

“The Rescuers are here-- it won’t be long now!” He tried to make it sound hopeful and not as though he was playing supernatural lookout. It seemed to work, though, as the first of them reached him and clapped a hand on his back.

“You’re the caller?” She asked, and Aziraphale nodded, pointing as he accepted Crowley’s phone back from her.

“They’re nearly to the edge,” He added helpfully, though there was a dark and obvious trail of broken ice that marked how far they’d come.

“We’ve got them.” She promised, and waved for backup.

A small army of men and women ran down to the river’s edge to lift the boy off of Crowley’s back as he final grabbed hold of solid land, and Aziraphale managed to shoulder his way through them to reach down and grasp Crowley’s hands.

“There you are, you brave, stupid fool.” He said, pulling him up and onto land and into his arms.

Crowley was shaking with cold, and he had already partially soaked through Aziraphale’s clothing when the team brought them emergency blankets.

“Come on now, let’s get you out of your clothes and warming up.” One of the men instructed.

Aziraphale turned to be sure the boy was receiving the same sort of care; he was already in someone’s thermals.

“Alright.” Crowley agreed, surprising Aziraphale. He was looking straight at the angel, though, not at the humans who were trying to shuffle him off to the trucks for treatment. “Stay with me?” He asked, almost a plea, and Aziraphale knew it was only partially to help him fend off discovery. The other part was God and the unspoken threat of having saved a human life-- and what Hell might do to him for it.

“Of course. Let me help him-- he’s ah, special needs.”

“Alright.” The officials were quick to agree, with the tiniest nudge from Aziraphale. “The parents are on their way, I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you and we’ll need to take down statements for our reports after.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale said again. “If you can just fetch us some dry clothing for him--”

He sent them scurrying, and turned back to Crowley.

“Shall we get out of here before they come back, my dear? Make a run for it?”

Crowley, still shivering as if his bones intended to shake out of his skin, grinned back at Aziraphale.

“Best idea you’ve had all day, Angel.”

They booked it, making it out of sight before Aziraphale dried Crowley with a miracle and warmed him with another.

The walk home was almost anticlimactic, after all that.

“Ohh… I dropped the thermoses!” Aziraphale lamented, and Crowley huffed.

“Shall we stop by that little teashop up near Piccadilly?” He offered.

“Oh, let’s. I suppose you could do with something warm to drink anyway.”

“I wouldn’t object. And then home, to a fire and several blankets.” Crowley insisted. He paused, then added, “Thank you, by the way. I saw the boy and didn’t think-- I ought to keep you around, have you keep doing that for me, when needed.”

Aziraphale bumped their shoulders together.

“You’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me, you’ll find, if you keep pulling stunts like that.”

Their usual routine resumed, they made their way towards the tea shop, and home, and left the humans to wonder why they had run, why the boy was swearing the man who’d saved him was a mermaid, and how the hell someone had happened to miraculously be in the right place at the right time to stop childish stupidity from turning tragic.

It was, all in all, a rather successful outing.

#GO Whumptober2020 #Whumptober #Good Omens Fic #GOFic #Crowley #Aziraphale #crowley is good with kids #Ineffable Husbands #that writing thing I do

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hovercraft79 · 4 years

Text

Magic

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 5,703

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: general family discord

Summary: Still roiling from Hecate’s entrapment in the mirror, Ada and Hecate cling to one another, thankful for the chance to be together. Just in time. As Agatha’s influence grows within the school, they’re going to need each other more than ever.

Notes: This fic covers the Week 7 prompt ‘confession.’

The title of this week’s fic is from the title of Olivia Newton-John’s song. Yes, that one. The one from Xanadu. The movie I actually own a DVD of. Don’t judge me - seeing it as a child was a very formative experience. For those of you who may be unfamiliar, the movie stars Newton-John as a muse, Michael Beck as an artist in need of inspiration and Gene Kelly as a washed-up musician. And they were all on roller skates. I said don’t judge me.

Once again, this fic is much improved by Sparky’s faithful editing.

No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, wakefulness kept creeping over Hecate. She snuggled deeper into her pillow, which was warm and cozy and… breathing? Hecate’s eyes popped open. She lifted her head and found herself gazing into the serene blue of Ada’s eyes. “Ada?”

“Mmm… Good morning,” Ada smiled warmly down at her. “Afternoon, really.” She traced her fingers softly over Hecate’s cheek, which was now imprinted with the weave of her jumper. “Glad you’re back.”

Hecate leaned into Ada’s touch. “Glad to be back.” She shifted, her shoulder starting to ache – a lasting memento of her time with Mistress Broomhead.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Grunting, Hecate shook her head. “I’m wearing sports clothes… and a splotchy red herringbone pattern on my face.”

“Like I said…” Ada winced as Hecate shifted again.

“I’m sorry… I should mo—”

Ada covered Hecate’s lips with her finger. “When you were trapped in the mirror, I had this moment… You were gone and it was all so real… you might stay gone forever. That made me realize… well, that I’ve been a foolish old woman.” She traced Hecate’s eyebrow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve found someone to love and, for reasons I can’t comprehend, she loves me back. How could I let some responsibility I never chose get in the way of that?” She lifted her chin. “I can’t. Not anymore. So… if you want to budge up because you’re uncomfortable, then do so. But if the only reason you’re moving is because you think I want you to, I can assure you I’d prefer you stay exactly where you are.”

Eyes shining with tears, Hecate nodded before burying herself in Ada’s arms. Sighing, she let herself melt against Ada, warmth flowing through her as she felt Ada press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

The noise from the Dining Hall spilled into the hallway despite the closed doors. Hecate paused for a moment to listen. Normally, the cacophony of nearly one hundred teenaged girls was enough to set her nerves jangling. Not now. Now the boisterous noisiness provided its own sort of comfort – a reminder that she was where she was meant to be. Even though she’d been trapped in the mirror little more than a day, the differences still haunted her. One of those differences had been the girls. As Ada always said, happy girls are noisy girls. The girls in the mirror had been eerily quiet.

Shaking herself back into the present, Hecate pushed through the doors. She’d spent most of the walk to the Dining Hall steeling herself for another meal stuck between Geraldine Gullet and Gwen Bat. At least Gwen could carry on an intelligent conversation – in a voice that didn’t sound like she was scraping a burned potion out of the bottom of a cauldron with a metal spoon.

She scanned the teachers’ table, stopping short when she realized that only one of the Cackle twins was present. Ada, she guessed, since she was seated at the end of the table.

“Care to join me?” Ada asked, suddenly at her elbow.

Once she’d managed to swallow her heart back down into her chest, Hecate nodded. She followed Ada to the table, eyes moving back and forth between her and her sister. She’d overlooked Agatha’s lack of glasses, simply assuming because she was in Ada’s usual chair that she must be Ada.

When they arrived at the table, Geraldine pulled out the chair between her own and Agatha’s. “Here you go, Miss Cackle, we’ve saved a spot just for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Gullet, but I’ll take a spot down here. I have a few things to discuss with Miss Hardbroom.” Ada sat down and patted the chair beside her.

Hecate gingerly lowered herself into the chair, feeling a bit more like the world was as it should be.

-----

Geraldine groaned for the third time in as many minutes from the chair in front of Hecate. Rolling her eyes, Hecate checked the time on her watch again. The weekly staff meeting should have started ten minutes ago. It wasn’t like Ada to be late. On the contrary, she preferred arriving early to take advantage of the weekly order of pastries and all the latest gossip.

Finally, Agatha stepped to the front of the staff lounge and began the morning’s agenda. “We have a few items to go over. First, as you all know, every four years the Magic Council sponsors the Witchcathalon competition. Magical schools from across Britain compete for the honor of representing Britain in the international finals. Now, after a disappointing finish four years ago, my sister and I are determined to see Cackle’s reclaim its status as champion. Please develop your action plans to improve our performance and have those ready by meeting-time next week.”

Hecate struggled to focus as Agatha droned on about inconsequential things, snapping back to attention when she started discussing their latest OfWitch inspection results. Surely they should have waited for Ada to deliver that information. “As expected, Cackle’s Academy scored well.” She let the pleased twitter spread through the room before allowing it to subside. “However, my sister and I are disappointed to say that the score wasn’t perfect in most areas.” Agatha summoned a short stack of papers and floated them out to the teachers. “As you can see, our greatest area of weakness is Health and Safety. Only one teacher scored a perfect one hundred percent. Let’s all give Miss Gullet a round of applause.”

An anemic smattering of applause dribbled in, petering out quickly. Geraldine’s gloating smile faded into a pout.

“Since we have such an exemplar of Health and Safety with us,” Agatha carried on, “We’ve assigned Miss Gullet to conduct regular inspections of the different areas so that she may offer her expertise to any of our teachers who might need it.” This caused Geraldine to resume gloating like a puffed-up toad.

“Well done, Miss Gullet,” Ada said as she entered the staff room at last. She nodded at Agatha. “Please, do continue.”

“We’ve just finished. Dismissed, all. Don’t forget your action plans for next week.”

Her crumpled report in her hand, Hecate snatched up the rest of her things so she could leave, but Ada signaled her to stay.

Ada approached her sister, hands clasped tightly behind her back. “Sister, didn’t you tell me I was to expect a mirror call from the Great Witch at nine o’clock? I was meant to call her at eight o’clock.”

“Oh…” Agatha blinked innocently at her sister. “Did I get that wrong? Oh, dear. I suppose that’s how it goes as we age, forgetfulness you know. After all, you’re older than I am.” She grinned at Ada. “Well, no harm done, I’m sure. Have a good day, sister. I’ll see you for our portrait sitting this afternoon.”

Ada started to respond but snapped her mouth closed so quickly that Hecate could hear her teeth clicking together. She took a deep breath before facing Hecate. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the anger radiating off Hecate.

“This is what’s wrong.” Hecate sent the report floating into Ada’s hands, unwrinkling it as it went.

Plucking the paper from the air, Ada scanned through it. “I assume the issue is your ninety-seven percent in Health and Safety?” Ada cocked her head. “Ninety-seven is a perfectly good score, Hecate. I know you’d prefer to make full marks, but—”

“I should have made full marks, Ada. I was docked three percent because the inspector found an unsanitary terrarium of Mus musculus on my desk.”

“Mice? I’m sure it was just an oversight or something—”

“My students were practicing the identification of crow’s feathers compared to raven’s feathers and their inherent properties. Miss Gullet’s Spell Science classes, however, were working on holding spells. May I remind you what creature is considered best practice for use in teaching a holding spell?”

“I’m well aware that it’s mice, Hecate. I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for it.”

Hecate simply raised an eyebrow. For a moment, neither woman would back down. Then Ada vanished the report and sighed again.

“Fine. I’ll concede that innocent is not an adjective typically used to describe Miss Gullet.”

“I should say not,” Hecate agreed, drily.

“Will you come to the portrait sitting this afternoon? Once your classes are over?” Ada’s hopeful tone was hard to miss.

“Hmmm… watching you and your sister sit for a portrait… that sounds quite as exciting as watching toadspawn dry.”

“That’s a yes, then?”

Hecate waggled her head back and forth as she pretended to think it over. “Of course.”

-----

Sitting for a portrait. Hecate snorted. That was certainly false packaging, she thought. The session had started late, thanks to the twins bickering over what to wear. Hecate had quickly turned her attention to studying the Ostium Alternis as they kept at their squabble. They’d finally compromised on dress blouses and skirts, neither of them happy with the choice, but Agatha particularly dissatisfied. She’d fussed and fidgeted the entire afternoon, irritating everyone involved. Of course, there was a price to be paid for that, Hecate thought, smirking every time she looked at the portrait. Ada, seated, looked lovely and kind in her red dress. Agatha, on the other hand, stood looming and dour in her dark blue dress. Hecate hoped she would be present when Agatha finally saw her likeness, though she sympathized with Ada for the tantrum she would have to endure.

As expected, Agatha’s first glimpse of the portrait provoked another disagreement. Hecate was pleased to say Ada more than held her own, finally sending Agatha retreating with scathing last words: “Perhaps you’ll learn not to act like the arse end of a troll with the artist painting your portrait!” A chortling Hecate had been forced to dematerialize for several long minutes after that, buzzing ears be damned.

“I’ll pay for it for weeks, you know,” Ada said with a grim sort of humor. “No doubt she’s brewing up some sort of revenge even as we speak.” She handed Hecate a cup of tea and a biscuit. Ada waved her cup at what was left of the mirror – a few shards stuck in a broken frame. Pulling Hecate free had caused it to shatter. “You’ve been studying that for hours now. Any brilliant epiphanies?”

“I’m afraid not.” She glanced at Ada. “I know I was in there for scarcely more than a day, but… I keep dreaming about it. I… I know that this is my life, the one I’m meant to live, but…”

“It’s no small thing to be given a glimpse into what might have been,” Ada soothed. “When mother said things on the other side would be different… well, I must confess that I worried that you would choose to stay.” The white-knuckle grip on her teacup belied the calmness in her voice. “Freedom is no small thing to give up. Plus, you still had Pippa, Indigo was alive and well… I hardly know why you’d come back.”

“Freedom for me, perhaps, but at what cost? Pippa’s freedom? That’s quite the devil’s bargain. And yes, Indigo seemed happy enough, but a whole school of other children was miserable.” Hecate set her teacup aside and threaded her arm through Ada’s. “Most importantly, you were not you. The Ada in that world was a cruel, vindictive harridan. I wanted my Ada back.” Stepping in front of Ada, Hecate cupped her cheek. “You are more than enough to bring me back, Ada Cackle. Whatever that other life may have promised, it didn’t have you. You are my first choice.” Her lips trembled into a smile, and she brushed an errant tear from Ada’s cheek with her thumb.

Ada could feel her cheeks heating. “And you mine.” They stood together, enjoying the feeling of just being, knowing they shared the same feelings. After a moment, Ada cleared her throat and pointed at the mirror’s remains. “It still doesn’t explain this, does it? I can’t imagine any of our girls getting into something like this, but it seems even more farfetched that anyone else would try to harm one of the girls.”

Turning back to the frame, Hecate tilted her head, lips pressed in a thin line. At her sides, her thumbs rubbed furiously across her fingertips. “I don’t think it was meant for one of the girls.” Ada’s eyes flew open wide. “Veronica said it wasn’t there when she hid in the alcove the first time. That was already after curfew. If someone meant to harm one of the students, why place the mirror after they were all meant to be in their rooms? Why not place it there earlier in the evening?”

“It certainly seems likelier that it would be meant for an adult, but still… one of the teachers?” Ada staggered backwards, landing heavily on the sofa. “Then… you’re saying it was meant for you? You were doing rounds that night!”

Hecate chewed at her bottom lip, hesitant. “But I wasn’t supposed to be, remember?”

Ada’s eyes roamed the room as she thought about it. Dropping her head in her hands, Ada groaned, low and mournful. “It was Thursday. My night. I was so worried… I just… I don’t think it even occurred to me. You’re scheduled to do rounds on Wednesday.”

“That’s right. Indigo’s… anniversary had fallen on the previous Wednesday. You’d offered to trade so I could have the evening free after my appointment with Miss Hagsmet.”

“But you already had a detention scheduled for that Thursday, so you took the next.” Her face puckered as she processed the implications of that. “Who would want to do that to me?” Ada’s expression hardened as Hecate said nothing. “It wasn’t Agatha.”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

“But you think it could be,” Ada pressed.

“It could be almost anyone,” Hecate conceded. “It could even be nothing more than a student prank that got out of hand. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I didn’t place that mirror in the hallway and neither did you.” She chuckled softly. “I’m also fairly confident it wasn’t Gwen Bat.”

Ada tried to picture Gwen laying out a trap with an enchanted mirror. The image brought a rueful smile of her own. “I would tend to agree.” She pushed herself up on unsteady legs. “I’m going to send out a directive to all the staff – no one is to do rounds alone until further notice. We need to find out what it takes to create an Ostium Alternis.”

“I’ll start researching straight away.”

-----

Hecate squeezed her eyes closed, trying to work up enough tears to quench the burning in her eyes. She’d spent almost all day in the library, researching the Ostium in the restricted section. Miss Inkwell had announced to the handful of students present that the library would soon be closing for the evening. Snapping her book closed, Hecate floated it back to its place on the shelf.

Few books had mentioned an Ostium Alternis Vitae. None explained how to create one. The book in Ada’s office had been the only one with the spell for rescuing someone trapped in one. Hecate rolled her shoulder, trying to loosen it up after a day of little use.

A soft tapping caused her to open her eyes. “Miss Inkwell, apologies… I was just…”

“Thinking? Sleeping? Passed out from lack of food? You’ve been in here all day.” She waved a pair of dawdling girls along. “I take it you haven’t had any luck finding whatever it is that’s kept you in that chair all day.”

“Let’s say thinking, shall we?” Sniffing deeply, Hecate sent her notes back to her rooms. Whispering in a back corner caught her attention. “Depart, girls! Curfew begins in ten minutes!” She called in her most Miss Hardbroom-y voice.

“You know… as the librarian, you could let me help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” She leaned closer. “Rumor has it there’s been a magic mirror floating about.”

Hecate felt her stomach drop. While what had happened could hardly have been kept secret with Veronica Catsear’s involvement, she and Ada had hoped that tales of her mishap wouldn’t spread through the castle with quite the speed of balefire. “Thank you, but… it’s a bit of a personal matter.”

“Bats. Just when I was hoping to find out who’s the fairest of them all.” Miss Inkwell sighed dramatically before magicking out the table lamps. “Suit yourself, just remember – all you have to do is ask. I can assure you of my discretion. It’s why I’m here. Librarians don’t search and tell, you know.”

Hecate choked on her own saliva. She’d heard that phrase before. In another library that wasn’t quite this one, from another librarian that wasn’t quite Miss Inkwell. Faint memories of a small envelope flickered into her mind. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, already rushing for the door. She was halfway to the corridor before it occurred to her to transfer.

Scrabbling to keep her feet after her sloppy landing, Hecate flung open the door of her clothes cupboard. She rifled through her clothes, missing it twice before she found the sports uniform she’d been wearing when Ada pulled her back into this reality. She fumbled in the pockets until her fingers closed around an envelope. “It’s real,” she breathed. Part of her had feared she’d imagined it. With trembling fingers, she opened it and pulled out Miss Inkwell’s results. She scanned through it before reading it through more carefully. She’d done it. The other Miss Inkwell had found out how to undo the marriage scroll. She needed to take the note to Ada straight away.

Didn’t she?

Hecate leaned against the cupboard with one hand, studying the note she held with the other. The elation she expected to feel hadn’t materialized. Instead, a new strain of anxiety twisted in her belly. They wanted this, didn’t they? Even though it was made of paper, the note weighed like a stone in her hand.

Breaking the marriage scroll is a beginning, not an ending, she told herself. Again and again. Hecate pushed herself upright. She convinced herself that it didn’t matter. Ada needed to know that they could be released from one another. She slipped the paper back into the envelope before tucking it up her sleeve and spelling it into place for safekeeping.

Hecate transferred to the hallway just outside Ada’s office. As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard raised voices coming from inside. Lowering her hand, unsure of whether to knock or go away, Hecate wound up listening to the row – a rambling brawl that covered everything from childhood disagreements, pedagogy, the color of Ada’s hair… Hecate could hardly follow the train of it.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of glass crashing against stone, then silence. Jerking away from the door, she transferred around the corner just as Agatha stormed out. She’d barely rematerialized when Agatha slammed into her.

“Get out of the way!” Agatha rammed Hecate’s bad shoulder as she passed, spinning her around.

Hecate stumbled against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. Bent at the waist, hands on her knees, she sucked in air, trying to catch her breath.

Gentle hands stroked her back. “She shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry you’ve had to bear the brunt of our argument.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hecate gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I was eavesdropping outside the door.” She took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. Wincing as she straightened, Hecate rolled her shoulder, vainly trying to ease the ache.

“I thought I felt your magic nearby.” She wrapped a steadying arm around Hecate, resting her hand on her hip. “I could do with… well… I rather think I could do with a glass of wine. Care to join me?” Hecate nodded and allowed Ada to lead her into the office.

Once they were inside, Ada set her protective wards. She didn’t care for any more disturbances tonight – she certainly didn’t want to hear anything more from her sister. She magicked another log onto the fire and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. Hecate stepped forward, but Ada held her back.

“Let me.” Ada warmed her hands with a tiny trickle of magic and placed them on Hecate’s shoulder. She let the heat soak in for a moment before rubbing light circles with her thumbs. Hecate stiffened for a moment but didn’t move away. Bit by bit, Ada increased the pressure, pleased when Hecate’s rigid posture eased. She shifted her hands down, massaging the muscles just below her shoulder blade. A satisfied grin spread across Ada’s face as she felt Hecate relax beneath her fingers. “Does this help?”

“Not really,” Hecate admitted, “but it feels delightful while you’re doing it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ada said, chuckling. She pictured the pattern of pale scars that ran down Hecate’s shoulder, tracing where she thought they went with her hands. Someday she wouldn’t have to rely on the memories of one brief glance she’d had of the injury when Hecate was in the infirmary. Someday, she’d be able to run her fingers across Hecate’s bare skin. “You know… any time you want one of these, all you have to do is ask. I’m more than willing.”

Hecate reached up and placed her hand over Ada’s. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning her head, she pressed the back of Ada’s hand to her cheek. Since she’d returned, Ada seemed to have come to terms with her role as Sealkeeper. Hesitant touches and warm words had become almost routine, though neither had worked up the nerve to share that first kiss. Hecate’s chest warmed at the memory of a late-night walk on the roof, ostensibly to check the wards, when Ada’s hand had slipped into hers, their fingers lacing together.

The note up her sleeve practically burned against her skin. Ada deserved to know that they could end their marriage. Fake marriage, she reminded herself. But now didn’t seem the right time. Ada was obviously still rattled by her argument with Agatha. Moreover, Hecate knew the massage was soothing Ada’s jangled nerves as much as it was her shoulder -not that she would complain about why she was getting a massage. Later, she said to herself. I’ll tell Ada later. To Ada she said, “How about we have that glass of wine?

-----

Even from her spot in the back, Hecate could see the strain Ada carried as she conducted the weekly staff meeting. A glance at the table, still piled high with sweets, told her Ada wasn’t the only one feeling anxious. Typically, the weekly treats, from Cosie’s Old Mill Tea Rooms in the village, were devoured before the meeting ever started. Today, it seemed that no one had much of an appetite. A week of Geraldine Gullet, prowling the castle with her clipboard in hand, had left everyone frazzled and annoyed. After her second ‘inspection,’ Hecate had banned Geraldine from the potions lab. Tamping down her irritation, Hecate refocused her attention on Ada.

“I just know that this year will be Cackle’s year in the Witchtathlon compe—” Ada stopped when Agatha loudly cleared her throat. A dimple that only appeared when Ada was particularly annoyed showed clearly at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, Agatha?”

“I noted that both Miss Gullet and Miss Hardbroom have listed Penny Pestle on their teams. The rules state that a girl may compete in only one event. She’ll have to be dropped from either the potions or the spells competition.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Miss Pestle won first prize in her Second-Year potions project – as did each girl on my team during her second year.”

Geraldine twisted around in her seat. “Well I’m bloody well not giving her up! She’s the best Spell Science student in her form! You can just pick some other girl to lose in potions.”

“Ladies!” Ada raised her hands, signaling both women to stop. Geraldine huffed and turned back to the front while Hecate glowered daggers at the back of her head. “We’ll sort it – after I’ve spoken with Penny myself.” With a few last details about upcoming events for the week, Ada dismissed them. She stepped into the hallway to wish each one a good day as they left, stepping back in as soon as she realized Geraldine and Hecate had not left the staff room.

“I tell you, you aren’t gettin’ her!” Geraldine insisted, her voice even more nasally than usual. “Just because I’m not going around trying to get my way by cozying up to the Headmistress…”

“I beg your pardon!” Hecate drew herself up to her full height. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Miss Gullet, but my personal life is none of your business. I’ll have you know—” She cut herself off as Ada stepped between them.

“I believe Spell Science with the First-Years is starting, is it not?” Ada asked, her voice treacly sweet. “Let’s dive back into this cauldron later. In my office.”

“It’s not bloody fair!” Geraldine spat as she stalked out of the room.

Ada turned back to Hecate just in time to see her transfer away. She blew out a gust of air, irritated with Agatha, with Geraldine, with herself… She hadn’t been so foolish as to think that her relationship with Hecate would go unnoticed, though she’d hoped they would have time to find their footing before it was fodder for the gossip mill. We haven’t even kissed yet, Ada groused. They shouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense this early. Shaking her head, Ada went in search of Penny Pestle.

As expected, when Ada pulled the girl from Witchory, Miss Pestle wanted to compete in potions. Miss Gullet would no doubt snap a broomstick. A prickle of a headache started at the base of Ada’s skull just from thinking about Geraldine’s screeching voice.

Lunch came and went with no sign of Hecate. Ada took the opportunity to tell Geraldine that Penny wanted to compete in potions. She tried to offer some alternatives, but Geraldine would hear none of it, moving to an empty seat on the other side of Agatha. Ada tried to ignore their dramatics and focus on her food, but she couldn’t stop casting furtive glances down the table. She didn’t manage anything more than pushing her peas around her plate. She gave that up when Agatha slid into the chair next to her.

“I must say, Ada, Miss Gullet is rather displeased. I do hope you aren’t showing Miss Hardbroom any… special privileges.”

Running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, Ada inhaled a long breath. “I spoke with Miss Pestle, Agatha. Miss Gullet never asked her to compete in spells; she simply put her down. The girl wants to compete in potions. She’s already begun practicing with the other girls on the team. It has nothing to do with Miss Hardbroom.”

Agatha faked a smile. “That’s good to hear, sister. I’m sure you can see how one might… wonder. Especially if Hecate gets the girl for her team…”

“The girl she actually asked to be on her team.”

“Miss Hardbroom is getting all those expensive new cauldrons while the rest of us are told to tighten our belts,” Agatha added.

“Mother authorized that expenditure last year, as you well know.”

“As you say,” Agatha quickly raised her hands to ward off any protest. “But even you must admit it looks… inappropriate. It certainly makes one wonder what her… motivations might be. A young, attractive thing like her?” Agatha made a point of looking Ada up and down, lingering on her midsection. “I mean, I can see why you’d want to show her special attention, but her? Well… they do say love is blind.” She slapped the table. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

Ada watched her sister leave, taking what was left of her appetite with her. Perhaps Hecate had the right idea when she chose to skip lunch. She forced herself to make small talk with Miss Swoop before taking her leave. Her mood was already ruined. She may as well work on the monthly expense reports.

One by one, the First-Year girls filed out of the potions lab, still giggling from the effects of their laughter potion. Ada idly wondered if a nip of the leftovers would improve her day. When it seemed the last girl had exited, she stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind her. “Are you avoiding everyone today? Or just me?”

Hecate glanced up at her before continuing to clean up after her class – by hand, a sure sign that the day had gone widdershins for her, too. “Everyone but you,” she said, finally. She folded her hand towel into precise quarters before placing it carefully on her workbench. “I tried to speak with Miss Pestle this morning…”

Ada stepped further into the lab. “Yes, she said she wishes to stay on the potions team.”

“Did she?” Hecate tapped her fingers against the casing of her pocket watch. “I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to her directly.” She cut her eyes to the floor and didn’t look up again. “When I arrived at the classroom, I overheard her discussing the matter with Mavis Spellbody. Before I could announce my presence, I heard young Miss Spellbody tell her that she needn’t worry about anything because – and I quote – ‘Miss Cackle is sweet on Miss Hardbroom so she won’t take you off her team.’”

Hecate was still staring at the floor. Ada stepped closer, close enough to gently lift Hecate’s chin. “She’s not entirely wrong you know. I am a bit sweet on you.”

“It’s not funny, Ada. The students are speculating about… about our… love life.” Hecate’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “We don’t even… we haven’t even…”

Ada cupped her cheek before letting her fingers trail down Hecate’s arm and tangle with hers. “It’s all right, dear. All in due time.”

Her hand felt warm in Ada’s. “Perhaps I’m overreacting. We’ve never said we’d keep this…” she shook their joined hands back and forth, “a secret. I just can’t stand the thought of being the subject of staff room gossip. What must people say?”

“I don’t want to keep it a secret either. We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re doing nothing wrong. Not that I’m looking to get snogged in the middle of the Dining Room, but…” That, at least, got a weak smile. “As for what they might say… I can tell you what Agatha said. She said the only reason an attractive young woman such as yourself would be with a relic like me is either because you’re using me or I’m using you.”

“That’s not so different from what Geraldine said to me this morning.” Hecate pulled away. She didn’t know if now was the right time, or if there would ever be a right time, but she didn’t feel right about keeping her secret from Ada any longer. “I’m afraid I have a bit of a confession to make…” She pulled the envelope from its place in her sleeve. “When I was in the mirror, I asked that Miss Inkwell to help me find a way to break the marriage scroll. Everything was so topsy-turvy.” Hecate looked up at her and shrugged. “She found it.”

Ada took the envelope from Hecate’s outstretched hand and tucked it into her pocket without reading it. “You’ve had it all this time?”

Hecate nodded. “I should have told you straight away… but we always seemed to be in the middle of something. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, waiting for Ada’s anger, or worse, her disappointment, to hit. It didn’t.

“I suppose things have been… topsy-turvy.” Fighting down an unexpected feeling of disappointment, Ada took up Hecate’s hand again. “Well, I for one say ‘good riddance’ to that scroll. I don’t want our future to be forced on us, Hecate. As much as I want us… I want any joining to be our choice.

“And as for Miss Gullet,” Ada sighed, “I heard what she said.” She took Hecate’s other hand in hers. “They aren’t what matters, Hecate. You are. We are. Agatha is just… being Agatha. And ten years from now, Geraldine Gullet will have moved on and you’ll still be here.”

Hecate pulled abruptly away. Turning her back to Ada, she hugged herself and staggered a few steps towards the door. “It still all comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Her voice broke. “It’s always going to be hanging over our heads.”

“What are you…” Ada could feel the blood draining from her face into her gut when she realized what Hecate meant. “NO! I’m not talking about that. Hecate…” Hurrying to her, Ada wrapped her arms around Hecate from behind. “I only meant that we will still be together, my dear. I hadn’t even thought about your confinement.” She felt Hecate relax against her, just a little.

“What does it even matter? In fifty years, everyone will be gone, and I’ll… I’ll still be here.” She twisted in Ada’s arms, wrapping her own arms around Ada’s waist and crying into her hair. “I don’t even think this cursed confinement will let them remove my corpse when I die. I can’t even be buried in the Hardbroom family plot.”

Ada rocked her gently back and forth, cradling the back of her head with one hand whilst rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. “Sshhh… that’s a long ride down the river, dear. Who knows what could happen between now and then?” Ada pulled back just enough to see Hecate’s eyes. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I hope that when the time comes, that you’ll be with me in the Cackle family plot. With your family.”

Hecate buried her face again and sobbed even harder. Ada kept rocking her. “You can’t… mean that,” she managed to choke out.

“I’ve never meant anything more, Hecate. You’re my first choice. You’ll always be my first choice.”

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #hecate hardbroom #ada cackle

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