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inkformyblood · 3 years

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i have not yet learned to hold you

Cody and Obi-Wan flee from the newly formed Empire and the shadows that wear Cody’s face. They travel as refugees, war-torn and clinging to each other.

Day 04 Undercover/Undercover as a Couple

Pairing: Codywan TW: violence/intrusive thoughts

@codywanweek

It would be so easy to break his General’s neck.

Obi-Wan was slack against Cody’s shoulder, his breathing ragged as if he was trapped in a nightmare. His head lolled with every rumble of the transport, swaying with every jerk and shudder that passed through the decrepit ship, but he didn’t wake, wouldn’t wake.

He had fallen asleep barely moments after they had sat down, tucked into a corner where the air clung to the thick scent of engine oil and the metal burned as frost unfurled across it. But he had slumped against Cody, uncaring of the danger that it put him in, trusting him after everything he had tried to do—

Obi-Wan was in danger, and it only grew every second that Cody remained by his side. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

It had been simple enough to slip onto the transport — merely two exhausted figures amongst many — but even that small use of the Force seemed to have drained Obi-Wan. He had sagged the moment the man with the datapad stepped away, content with the deception Obi-Wan had planted in his mind. Cody had reached for him without thinking, old instincts overriding the newer urge to slip his concealed blaster from his holster, press it to Obi-Wan’s temple and shoot.

The ship shuddered, wordless cries of discomfort echoing through the darkness before they were silenced, tinged with exhaustion, and Obi-Wan groaned, the sound becoming trapped in his throat before he settled once more.

He looked tired.

The war had left its mark on them both as the years unfurled with no sign of slowing, but this ran deeper. The way Obi-Wan moved was slower, more deliberate, and he had curled himself around Cody as they had walked. Landing at the spaceport had been a risk even though the ship they had managed to steal from Grievous' supply had barely had enough fuel to break through the atmosphere. Death and destruction was everywhere, from the weary faces of the children watching them as they had passed, and watching them even now — their eyes too old for their faces — to the scorch marks from blasters littering the buildings Cody could identify with barely a glance.

The sound of footsteps, careful but deliberate, drew Cody out of his dark thoughts, his head tipping to one side as he listened. They weren’t the heavy methodical movements of a soldier, instead stumbling, pausing whenever the ship trembled around them, but they were drawing closer.

As carefully as he could, Cody reached over, tucking Obi-Wan’s head further into the hollow of his shoulder, the other man’s breath damp against his skin. The urge burned through him again, a passing thought that raked its claws across his mind that he could cut Obi-Wan’s throat and sit like this as his General bled out against him, but he pushed it down, curling his free hand into a fist and cutting half-moons into his palm. He smoothed the edge of one of his scarves down, tucking it beneath Obi-Wan’s chin before drawing a section over his mouth — so easy just to press and feel him gasp and choke — to hide his face.

Obi-Wan, for all of his notoriety, wasn’t as easily identified. Cody, however, had one of the most well-known faces in the galaxy, and the twist of laughter in his chest was a surprise. He had thought he had forgotten how to laugh in the face of the events of the previous days.

One of the scarves, identifiable by touch alone in the dim light, was woollen and striped a combination of 501st blue and 212th orange, and Cody pulled it up over most of his face, catching a linen scarf as it slipped and tucking it back into place. It wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but he could only hope it would do for now. Obi-Wan deserved whatever scraps of sleep he could get.

The woman who moved into view was unremarkable, a Wroonian woman with skin the same colour as sea-foam and her dark hair pinned up, but several curls had sprung free. Her smile was hesitant, but warm, revealing a dark gap of a missing tooth. “For the journey.”

She offered them a small flask, the liquid inside sloshing, and Cody could only stare. He could smell the sweet tartness of the berries, one final summer harvest, and his mouth watered, the words catching in his hollowed-out throat before he could speak. “We have nothing to give in return.”

“I ask for nothing, only offer kindness.”

She stretched out once more, the flask held by the edges of her fingers and Cody knew.

How many people had she offered the same kindness to on this ship, and how many had accepted the final whisper of a home now gone? There was still liquid, so each took only a mouthful and moved along in gratitude.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he wordlessly reached for the flask. She stepped back, turning to look back down the ship, and Cody could have wept at the unexpected gentleness of this woman whose name he did not know, and who he would likely never see again.

“My love?” Cody pressed the edge of his forefinger to Obi-Wan’s cheek, his hand curved to keep the flask steady. The endearment felt strange, lacking the familiarity of the Mando’a Cody repeated in his mind but had never given voice to. It had always been something for after the war, and yet here they were, and the war was over, and Cody couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it. Obi-Wan deserved someone whose every thought towards him was filled with love as sweet as honey instead of ideas of how to kill him twining through at the edges.

Obi-Wan woke in fractions, a slow blink of his eyes — the brilliant blue now clouded and filled with a grief that was still raw and present — then a gentle sigh, pressing his face further into Cody’s neck.

“What’s happening?” His voice was quiet, barely audible above the rumble of the engines, and Cody turned towards him, trying to shield him from everything, including himself.

“A drink. If you want some.”

Cody watched the woman, waited for the gleam of her eyes to turn away before pulling down the scarf enough to take a mouthful. It burst on his tongue like the final days of summer on Kamino when the sea would rage, and he could slip away from training for a moment as the lights and cameras flickered and died to pluck fruit from the carefully regimented gardens. Only one drink, one memory, and Cody pushed it to the forefront of his mind, sweeping the thoughts of death beneath it. Obi-Wan’s thoughts brushed against his mind, the sensation akin to a kiss ghosting over his temple, and he hummed in quiet, exhausted joy.

Their fingers brushed when Obi-Wan took the flask, and Cody’s cheeks burned in answer. They were pressed together from ankle to hip to shoulder, and Obi-Wan’s head still rested on Cody’s shoulder, but that single touch as Cody felt Obi-Wan draw comfort from his memory threatened to break him utterly.

Obi-Wan pressed himself up, one hand firmly planted on Cody’s thigh, just enough to drink before passing the flask back.

Cody waited until he was settled, their faces tucked back behind the flimsy fabric shields before extending the flask back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. You’re lucky to have each other. May your peace find you on the road.”

“May your peace travel with you.” Obi-Wan’s voice had grown in strength, and the woman paused, her eyes widening in delight as a grin burst across her face at the traditional response. She bowed once before moving back up the ship, her steps lighter now.

“Always full of surprises,” Cody murmured, pressing his cheek to the top of Obi-Wan’s skull, feeling the other man laugh more than hearing it.

“I’d hate to ever bore you, my dear.” Obi-Wan drew his hand away from Cody’s thigh, and he missed the single spot of contact, his skin feeling like it was burning where Obi-Wan had touched him deliberately rather than convenience. “It’s a lovely memory you showed me.”

“I hadn’t thought about that in years,” Cody laughed despite himself. His grief was still too raw to examine, the wave of sorrow in his chest barely tampered behind his focus. He could grieve later, allow himself to sink to the floor and scream for his fallen vode but only when they were safe. “It’s strange how your memories work, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan hummed in quiet, exhausted agreement, curling in closer to Cody’s side and, as delicately as he could, Cody raised his arm to wrap it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“If you—“ Obi-Wan paused, and Cody watched him think out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t sense the Force, but all of the clones had spent enough time around the Jedi to pick up a base knowledge. Cody had only watched his brothers turn and walk away from him, wiped clean as neatly as any droid would be, and die in a thousand different ways since the war started and even before.

Obi-Wan had felt every agonising second of it.

“Your pain isn’t any less than mine.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hushed, barely louder than a whisper, and Cody turned, catching a glimpse of eyes as blue as the ocean out of the corner of his eye. “We’re both grieving our losses.

“But I wanted to ask, would you let me share a memory with you?”

Obi-Wan had shared fragments with him before after Cody had agreed he could, never before. It was a strange sensation to be in the middle of battle to glance out over the smoke-covered fields and know where Obi-Wan was, feel the wind rush past his face, letting Cody hold out his hand to catch his saber once again.

But that had been purely tactical, and Cody couldn’t let himself dwell on the fact Obi-Wan never asked anyone else, only him.

“I’d like that.”

It stole over him like the slow slip of the sun beneath the horizon, flickering into place between one blink and the next. He could feel the warmth press against his skin, sweat prickling against the hollow of his throat as it dried and the sticky sweetness as juice ran down his chin. The fruit caved in at the slightest press of his teeth, and for a moment, decorum was abandoned, cool, wet pulp smearing against his cheeks as he ate. The man next to him laughed, leaning back so that their shoulders bumped together and his cheeks were stained the same vibrant purple that covered his hands. Cody didn’t know this man, and yet, he did. Qui-Gon reached out and smoothed a hand over Cody’s shoulders, drawing him close in a hug, warm, and he hoped it would never end.

Cody blinked, the sunlight falling away and the harsh metal walls of the ship closing around him as he was forced back into the present.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan cupped Cody’s face, his thumb smoothing over his cheekbone, pressing their foreheads together in a kovyn. Their breath fogged as Cody gasped, tears burning at his eyes.

The desire burned through his chest to draw his head back and slam it forward, yearning to hear the snap and crunch of bone and the burst of blood, warm and tacky, against his forehead, but he pushed it down. He pressed into the embrace instead, closing his eyes and feeling Obi-Wan’s heart settle in time with his own.

They couldn’t stay like this for long. Already the groan of the ship’s engines had begun to change in pitch — a clear signal that they were coming into land.

“Don’t—” Cody caught Obi-Wan as he started to straighten, unable to bear the separation. “Can we stay like this, just a few moments longer?”

It was dangerous, like trying to catch lightning with his hands, but he wanted a moment longer of peace and love, a selfish and ruined want that coursed through him like a heartbeat.

Cody couldn’t meet Obi-Wan’s gaze, but he caught the edge of his smile, so full of a love that neither of them had admitted to, and knew that whatever happened, they would be together.

#codywan #codywanweek2021 #codywan week 2021 #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing

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sourskywalker · 3 years

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Parastin

This is a part 2 to Perfidious

PARASTIN: protect (to keep safe)

SUMMARY: It had been a mere five months since you left the order and since the Galactic Republic had fallen and the Galactic Empire had risen. You had been living peacefully among the village, protecting them from the dangers of the planet and in turn being allowed residence...But now there is someone here that not even you can protect them from, especially since they’re only looking for one thing; You.

“We cannot thank you enough Y/n” The village leader exclaimed “You have once again saved us from danger”

“My pleasure Leader Colkarl” You bowed respectively “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must depart”

“Of course, good night Y/n” Colkarl waved to you as you turned and started your trek home

Luckily the hut was located on the outskirts of the village so it didn’t take long for you to reach the place you now called home. Your brows furrowed when you noticed the door was slightly ajar and you gently pushed it so it swung the rest of the way open “Ms Abbykar?” No response

The entrance was pitch black, the fire that you’d created earlier that day was snuffed out and you noticed how cold the room was “Ms Abbykar?” You called once more and still got no response

Your foot hit something hard and you quickly switched your lightsaber on, pointing it downwards and letting out a startled yelp.

There lay Ms Abbykar, a hole pierced through her chest with a widened expression frozen on her face. You instantly recognised the wound as one from a lightsaber.

Someone was here

“Who’s there?” You call out, your head snapped in the direction of yours and your daughters bedroom when you heard shuffling. You quietly made your way towards the bedroom, heartbeat picking up slightly

You kept your lightsaber in front of you, illuminating the way with a yellow hue until you realised that the fireplace had been ignited “Show yourself” You ordered when you noticed a figure sitting on the handmade chair in front of the fire

“Shhh” The voice sounded garbled, it rose to its full height and turned to face you, Shmi held firmly in their arms “You’ll wake her”

“Who are you?!” You didn’t care whether you would wake Shmi or not “Get your hands off my daughter”

“I think you mean our daughter” The person calmly states

“What are you talking about? She is not your child” You snap “If you don’t let her go I’ll kill you”

“I was led to believe for five months that you were dead”

“What-” They cut you off before you could finish your sentence

“Five months!” You flinched at the sudden raised voice “Five months I mourned for you and her” He gestured to Shmi “I mourned for the thought that you died in childbirth and her in the process”

Your eyes widened slightly and you took a step forward, turning your lightsaber off and placing it on your belt “...Anakin?”

“No” He chuckled “Anakin is dead, he died on the soils of Mustafar and in his death Darth Vader was born”

“What have you done?” You whisper, feeling tears pooling in your eyes

“I became powerful, I thought that I could use my powers to resurrect-”

“And what about Padme?” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow at him “I found out about the two of you the day I went into labour...In fact it was your fault I went into labour so early. If I never found out, you would be a father.”

Vader seemed to grip onto Shmi tighter, taking a step back when you tried to move forward “She’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“Padme, she’s dead” He pauses for a moment, looking down at Shmi before adding “I killed her...The child did not survive”

You chuckled darkly and Vader noticed that quite quickly “What is so funny?” He asks

“The fact that the whole reason this is happening is because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Padme would’ve never died and I never would’ve gone into hiding. You ruin everything that ever loved you. The whole galaxy would be a better place if you were left on Tatooine” You knew that was a low blow, but the band of pent up anger snapped “You destroy everything you touch and I want you out of my house right now”

“That is not an option, I’m not leaving that easily. Your words may have hurt Anakin, but, I am Darth Vader and I don’t become an emotional puddle” Shmi started squirming uncomfortably in Vaders hold, her mouth opening and letting out quiet wails

“You’re hurting her” You point out, but Vader didn’t seem to care and instead held her more tightly, causing her wails to become louder “If you continue holding her that tightly then you’ll kill her, now give her here and I’ll let you stay”

Vader pondered over your words before wordlessly handing her over into your outstretched arms. Shmi’s cries quietened down and she nuzzled quietly at your breast, your scent calming her down.

“Sit.” You gesture your head at the chair he sat on a few minutes ago and he obliges, the sound of his mechanical limbs creaking slightly as he sits back “What are you doing here?”

“What’s her name?”

“Shmi- Now, why are you here?”

His mask snapped up to face you “You named her after my mother?”

“Of course, it was always my first choice, now stop dodging the question, why are you here?” You ground out, gently rocking Shmi back and forth in your grip

“I felt her presence in the force, like she was calling out to me, she led me to you” You scoffed “She’s strong in the force”

“Of course she is, she had two force users as parents” You rolled your eyes, pushing a few short strands of hair from Shmi’s face “What do you want with her?”

“To train her-”

“That is out of the question. My daughter does not need to be taught the ways of the dark side, and, I have enough knowledge in the force to help her control her powers” You snapped, eyes squinting at the masked man before standing up and walking out of the bedroom, hearing the clunking footsteps of Vader following you. Opening the front door you point a finger toward the wooded plains ahead of you “Out.”

“No-”

“I let you stay for a little bit, now I want you to leave” You reply, unconsciously pulling Shmi closer to your body as Vader took long strides towards you “Please just go…” Your voice was quieter than a whisper

You felt Vader’s gaze move up your figure before his hand moved towards you. You took another step back, thinking he was about to use the force against you when instead, his hand rested against Shmi’s head.

The minutes grew, but Vader remained still, his hand remaining on Shmi’s head until eventually it retracted and he turned on his heel, his boots making the wooden flooring groan under the pressure.

#darth vader x reader #reader is a padawan #anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader #anakin skywalker #reader

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yacoka · 3 years

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the journey back

ii. echoes of the past

character(s) — tsukishima kei, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro, iwaizumi hajime

pairing — tsukishima kei x reader

genre — royalty!au, reincarnation!au, soulmate!au

warning(s) — none

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever

masterlist

The first month of university flies past in a blur, and it is only when Issei drags you out of your room - which you haven’t left in a while except for school, meals, and showers - to meet your high school seniors that you snap out of the haze that’s been clouding your mind.

“Iwaizumi’s leaving for California in a couple weeks, figured we’d meet him and cause a little chaos while we still can.” Issei flashes you a mischief filled grin, and you can’t help but mirror it, memories of your high school days playing your mind. Iwaizumi had taken the brunt of you, Issei’s and Makki’s shenanigans, and he even had a scar on his left elbow to prove it.

“Where are we meeting them?”

“At Iwaizumi’s house, then maybe a nearby bar.” You watch as Issei’s shoulders shake slightly, his face tilted away from you.

“No,” you groan. “Tell me you told him we were going to meet.”

At this, Issei lets out his laughter, and the sound warms you, wrapping around your cold body like a thick jacket. His chuckles are infectious, and your giggles join his, filling the street you were strolling down with your joy.

It isn’t long until you find yourself turning a corner and facing a street that’s almost like a second home to you. Three houses down from the corner, past the tree that looks like an old woman hunched over in the dark, and there was Iwaizumi’s house. The setting sun casts a gentle glow, and the swirling leaves on the ground have your smile growing wider, happiness lifting your chin a little higher, your steps a little lighter. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this way, and you cherish every moment of it.

From your peripheral, you spy a familiar head of pink creeping up the alleyway on Issei’s side, and you bite your tongue in an effort not to ruin Makki’s fun, but Issei knows your tells better than you do, the little scrunch of your lips has him whirling around immediately.

Makki freezes, his hands a fingertip away from Issei’s nose. Issei goes cross-eyed and you burst into another round of laughter, bending over at the two idiots. Your idiots.

(You fail to notice the soft smiles they send your way, and the triumphant grins they exchange with one another.)

“Makki!” You grin brightly at him, moving around Issei to hug him. “I missed you!”

He wraps his arms around you, squishing your face into his chest. “Princess! It’s been too long since you’ve graced this lowly peasant with your beautiful face!”

Pulling away from him, a small pout rests upon your lips. “Stop calling me that, I thought we agreed to leave that nickname behind in high school.”

Makki pulls a face. “Uh, no? I don’t remember making such a ridiculous promise.”

You scowl, faking a kick at him. He yelps and darts away and you give chase, yelling at him all the while. It doesn’t take long for you to reach Iwaizumi’s house like this, and Makki bangs on the door.

“Iwaizumi! Open up before I get murdered by her royal highness!”

You reach him just as the door opens, and a hard shove has him falling through the open doorway and landing at Iwaizumi’s feet. Makki groans in pain, and you seat yourself on his back, grinning brightly up at Iwaizumi’s annoyed face.

“Hey Iwa-chan!”

He merely pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing. “I just wanted one last night of peace.”

“Well, you know you’ll never get that around us.” Issei snorts from the doorway.

“I know, that’s why I’m running away to San Francisco.”

“Rude!” Issei, Makki and you echo in unison. Iwaizumi slumps, and you swear you can almost hear his mental cries for strength.

There’s a few moments of chaos as Iwaizumi tries to lift you off Makki and Issei yanking Makki by his feet and someone’s shoes flying, but you somehow make it out of Iwaizumi’s house relatively unscathed. Said owner is currently tucked under Issei’s arm in a headlock, with Makki skipping happily beside. You trail behind them, watching your boys struggle to walk properly. If only Oikawa was here, your group would have been complete.

Issei turns around, eyes bright with joy. He grins brightly at you, one arm still around Iwaizumi’s neck, the other reaching out to you.

“Coming, Princess?”

You grin at him, sliding your hand into his, like you have since you were toddlers, and squeeze it tightly.

“Stop calling me that!”

Your first assignment receives a passing grade, and the sigh that you let out is painfully audible, drawing your seat partner’s attention.

“You did well?” He asks, the first bit of conversation he’s initiated out of the customary thank yous and excuse mes he usually offers.

You blink at him with wide eyes, shock filling every vein and artery that runs through you. He was making conversation? He was talking to you? There was no way this was actually happening, not when the last three months had been filled with him turning down everyone’s offer to hang out after school or eat together during meal times. The mysterious blonde who kept to himself was now talking to you.

“So?” The irritation in his voice jerks you back from the rush of thoughts, and your cheeks heat up.

“Ye-yeah, I guess so.” Your voice is small, and you just want to shrink into a tiny ball and disappear at the unimpressed look he sends you.

(“Tsukki,” he can almost imagine Yamaguchi admonish, a hand swinging out to lightly smack him. “You said you'd be nice!”)

He glares at the ground, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he speaks up once more, this time more gently.

“Yeah, me too.” It’s awkward, the air between you two filled with uncertainty. All you want to do is run away from it and go back home, back to familiarity where Issei was probably cleaning out the fridge once more. But there’s a voice that whispers that he’s trying, and he’s just as lost as you are. So you reach a trembling hand out, a silent offer to exchange papers.

His tensed shoulders sag, and wordlessly, you swap papers. You hadn’t planned on saying anything until you saw the big red mark on his paper.

“You got an A? Dude, that’s amazing!”

“It’s nothing,” he waves a hand dismissively, though you notice the light coating of pink across his pale cheeks.

“It’s not nothing, you did well, you should be proud of yourself.” You frown at your own paper in his grasp. “I would do anything to be able to do this well.”

“I can tutor you- that is, if you want?”

Your head whips up so fast it gives you whiplash. Tsukishima has his head turned away from you, though that does little to hide the blush that deepens with every second passing. It’s almost endearing, this bashfulness of his. It’s certainly more emotion than you’ve seen in the past few months as his seat partner.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The relieved smile that breaks out from him is enough to quell the pit of uncertainty bubbling in your stomach, and you settle back into your seat and wait for the teacher to start the class.

“Hey!” You raise a hand and wave at Tsukishima. “Over here.”

He jerks his head in recognition and makes his way over, weaving between the tables and chairs that separate you two. It takes him three near accidents and a slight trip over an outstretched leg, but he reaches your table and sets his bag down.

“Hey.” He nods, slipping his headphones down to his neck.

You smile at him awkwardly, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. Several study sessions had passed, and the tension eases with each one as you learn to navigate around each other. That didn’t mean you knew how to react to his remarks all the time - some of them were especially aggravating and had you shrinking away from him.

“Are you going to order anything, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

You start, blinking at him in surprise. “I wasn’t staring at you, I was just- uhh, stoning.”

He snorts, a slight smirk slipping onto his face. “Sure, if that’s what you want to go with. Now go order. I want an iced mocha and a strawberry shortcake.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you register his order, and it’s years of growing up with assholes for friends that have the following words slipping out. “The salty bean pole likes sweet stuff? How uncharacteristic of him!”

Tsukishima’s smirk falls into a scowl, and he tosses a napkin at your grinning face. “Shut up and get me my food.”

“Alright, strawberry shortcake, I’m going.” Giggles erupt from you, even as you stand in line for the food.

It was a rather adorable fact - you never thought someone like him would enjoy such sweet things. Storing this knowledge for future use, you rattle off both your orders and when the cashier asks for your name, you shoot them a wink and whisper something else instead.

The red scrawl of ‘shortcake’ on the iced mocha has Tsukishima’s glare intensifying, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he splutters. It’s worth the absolute hell he puts you through later on during the study session.

“There is no way that happened!” You laugh, one hand covering your mouth to stifle the noise as the other smacks Tsukishima’s arm lightly. He no longer flinches away from your touch, nor bristles angrily when you come close to him.

“It did, unfortunately.” Tsukishima grumbles, glaring down at the papers spread across the table between you. “He turned up to the training camp and stayed all the way through as a ball boy.”

“You have to admit, it takes some guts to pull that off,” you chuckle, wiping the beginnings of tears away.

“Or a lot of stupidity and thick skin.” He mutters under his breath, pushing his glasses up slightly. But for all the complaining he does about his highschool friends, you still spot the smile hidden in the upturned corner of his lips, his eyes slightly brighter.

The conversation dies down into a comfortable silence that’s occasionally broken by the scratch of a pen on paper, or the shuffle of clothes as someone shifts around. You’re so focused on scribbling down the answers that you don’t notice the humming until it grows loud enough to catch your attention.

“I thought you said this song was a terrible song,” you remark, continuing to write even as you listen to his humming. It stops abruptly, and you glance up at him. “What? Don’t stop, I don’t mind it.”

“How do you know that song?” His voice is accusing, and the stare he shoots you is reminiscent of the guarded ones he used to give everyone before you became friends. Your brows furrow and the realization sinks in.

“How do you know that song?”

His mouth opens and closes, a bewildered expression forming.

“I don’t know. It’s just a song that’s always been in my head I guess.”

There’s a tangible tension in the air, thick and filled with a strange familiarity that feels out of place. You catch his gaze, and you can almost hear the tune of a half-formed song in your mind. It lingers with an achingly familiar scent of something sweet, something soft, something that settles a restlessness you hadn’t known existed.

“What a strange coincidence,” you say softly, unwillingly to snap the tension. But it does anyway, and Tsukishima leans away from you, an awkward laugh falling from him.

“It must be an old song we might have heard when we were younger,” he waves dismissively, shoving more papers to you. “Here, you got a couple of the questions wrong.”

You frown, but take the papers from him and return to your work, though you could still feel his burning gaze on you, brown eyes filled with an unnerving emotion you couldn’t quite place.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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chenqingssuibian · 4 years

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be not afraid (for i’m here tonight)

[crossposted on ao3]

tagging @goldencorecrunches because it was their post that inspired this!!

A baby cries in Lotus Pier. His face is so red the dot between his eyebrows, a symbol of his sect, has disappeared entirely into it, wailing shrill as he writhed in his crib. He is louder than the wind and rain outside, than the creaking of the buildings and the rustle of the trees and the howling. Wild dogs have been roaming the streets, as of late, feral and thin and dangerous, and as all dogs, they moved in pacts. In a few hours when the storm breaks, Jiang Cheng would be leading a hunt for them. He would need his strength, and that meant he needed rest, but -

But a baby cries in Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng sits up in bed. The healers had said it wasn’t colic, that the baby is perfectly healthy, that there was nothing to be done but let him cry. The mothers he’d asked had said that it was natural, even, for a child like him to cry the way he does. Nothing soothes him, when he’s like this, and Jiang Cheng is almost at his breaking point.

A-jie, he thinks, rising from bed. Even if he made the effort to make his steps light, it wouldn’t matter, so he doesn’t, coming to stand beside the bassinet. Your son’s face is purple. He is still a little awkward, when he picks his nephew up; Jin Ling pauses in his wailing, big wet eyes blinking in surprise as Jiang Cheng settles him against his chest. As all good things in Jiang Cheng’s life, it does not last. The second those eyes lock on Jiang Cheng’s tired, pale face, Jin Ling opens his little mouth and lets out the loudest cry yet. Jiang Cheng’s head throbs painfully, and he can almost feel the pulses of pain vibrating in his teeth. “I know, A-Ling,” he sighs, bouncing the baby lightly and getting nothing in return but more shrill crying. “I’m not who you want to see. I’m sorry.”

A-Ling is not comforted. Jiang Cheng shifts his weight from one foot to the other, swaying as he rubs the baby’s back. Tears soak through the fabric of his inner robes, and Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut. A-Ling sobs, and he’s trying to blink back the sting in his own eyes, resting his cheek against the dark, downy hair on the baby’s head. “I miss them, too.”

And he did. Jin Zixuan was not his friend, per se, nor his favorite Jin, but A-jie had loved him with everything she had and when he’d died, part of her had, too. He’d only seen Jin ZIxuan with a-ling once, but the awe and love he’d seen on his face had been too much to bare, too pure to ever forget. And it went without saying that he missed A-jie - to suggest otherwise would be like denying that the sun rises in the east. Every breath he takes, he misses her. He can feel her in every room of Lotus Pier, can see her sitting on the dock with a lotus in her hair, feet skimming the surface of the water. A-jie is everywhere and everything and as A-Ling sobs against his chest he misses her even more, longs for her to be here to soothe her son the way only a mother can.

But A-jie is dead, has been for a month now. A-Ling probably remembers her laugh, now, but soon that will fade and then he will know nothing of her at all. The knowledge that his nephew will never know her soft voice, her gentle touch, burns in his chest brighter than his rage. Wei Wuxian, he thinks, jaw clenching. His heart aches. He hates him, hates the things he’d taken from Jiang Cheng, from Jin Ling, hates that he can’t bring himself to get rid of his things or burn his clothes or believe he’s truly dead. Because if Wei Wuxian really did die, then Jiang Cheng is even more alone, with nothing but his rage and a sealed room of trinkets and-

A-Ling lets out a wail, and Jiang Cheng loosens his hold, wills his body to relax. “Sorry,” he whispers, voice lost in the wind and the rain and that crying that rings in his ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Jiu-jiu’s sorry, A-Ling.” But A-Ling will not be mollified. He has his grandmother’s temper, it seems, because he just keeps shrieking in Jiang Cheng’s ear. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, thinks, A-jie, what would you have done?

He is his mother’s son. She had rarely soothed him, as a child. He cannot remember her touch. Had she sung to him? Or had that been A-jie’s job? His father’s affection had always been rare, but it was even rarer after Wei Wuxian came to them, and he can’t remember his touch, either. Just A-jie, always her, dabbing at his feverish face and making him soup and holding his hand when he’s scared. If she sang to him, he cannot remember. But a song comes to him anyway, along with a memory, and Jiang Cheng is singing despite himself. It scratches in his throat, voice rough from a long day of training disciples and long years of disuse. But when Jiang Cheng glances down at A-Ling, he’s sniffling, tears clinging to his lashes as he stares up at him.

So Jiang Cheng keeps singing.

He sways from foot to foot, taking slow steps around his bedroom. If the song had words once, Jiang Cheng does not know them, but he knows the melody and if this is what it takes to stop his nephew’s tears that so be it. He can feel a phantom hand in his hair, a thumb stroking his cheek, and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and keeps on. His voice grows more confident with every minute, and A-Ling snuggles into his shoulder, pressing his warm forehead against the crook of his neck. The scent of lotus and rich soil fills his nose.

When A-Ling finally, finally falls asleep, Jiang Cheng allows himself a smile.

---

For the first time in a month, there is silence at Lotus Pier. Huang Li is afraid. He stands outside the door of Jiang-zongzhu with three other disciples - they were on watch duty together, and it had been Zhong Sicheng had been the first to notice the eerie quiet. He is pale as a sheet beside Huang Li, his round eyes bulging as he presses his lips together. There is no storm now that day’s broken. There is no excuse that Huang Li can use to explain away the quiet in this corridor.

“They probably just passed out from exhaustion... Right?” Mei Shu says, holding tightly to his sword. He is the youngest of them, at only thirteen, without a courtesy name. Despite that, he was one of the first to join the revitalized YunmengJiang sect, along with his brother, Mei Dejun, who stands beside him. He had served in the Sunshot Campaign, and therefore is nearly as respected as the sect leader himself.

“No way,” Mei Dejun says, staring at the closed door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You were a colicky baby, just like the young master - trust me, even when you exhausted yourself, you found a way to make noise. And Jiang-zongzhu wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion alone. He’s Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Then...” Zhong Sicheng glances away from the door, eyes shining. “We only have two options, don’t we? Either Jiang-zongzhu got Jin-gongzi asleep-”

“Doubtful,” Mei Dejun cuts in, earning a withering glare from Zhong Sicheng.

“He either got the baby to sleep,” Zhong Sicheng repeats, voice going high-pitched, “Or something happened.”

“Jiang-zongzhu wouldn’t have let anything happen to A-Ling,” Mei Shu says, with the faith and confidence of a child who has not yet been failed by his hero. “And we would’ve noticed if someone had snuck in!”

“Maybe your Jun-ge would’ve,” Huang Li says, scowling at the younger boy, “But you wouldn’t. You were asleep on your feet!” Mei Shu reddens, eyes growing wet, and opens his mouth to speak.

“You-”

“Stop.” Mei Shu’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click as his brother’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder. He glares at Huang Li with barely-concealed contempt, even though Huang Li is five years older and fifty pounds heavier and has wiped the floor with him more than once. He sneers as Mei Dejun continues. “We won’t know until we open the door. Keep your voices down. If we wake that damn baby, Jiang-zongzhu will do more than make us do everyone’s laundry for a week.”

Zhong Sicheng nods. It’s perhaps the first time he’s ever agreed with Mei Dejun, and it’s clear on is face that he hates doing so. “I’ll open it,” he says, a determined sheen to his eyes. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be patrolling here, anyway, so I won’t get in trouble for leaving my station. Stay out of sight. If something happened...”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Mei Dejun says. In the dim morning light, he still manages to look every inch the head disciple he will be. Mei Shu nods, jutting out his little chin, and Huang Li sighs in resignation. They’re all going to get whipped by Zidian, he’s sure of it. The three of them move down the hall, close enough to hear everything but far enough away that they won’t be seen unless Jiang-zongzhu comes out to find them.

“Zongzhu?” Zhong Sicheng knocks lightly on the door, face pinched, and waits for a response. He glances over to where the three of them are hidden, puts on his bravest face, and pushes the door open. “Zongzhu, I’m coming in.” He does not shut the door behind him, giving him what would be a quick and easy escape if it wasn’t Sandu Shengshou’s private quarters he’s entering without permission. The wood creaks quietly beneath his feet, and his purple robes swish as he enters, and then -

Silence. They sit in silence for five whole minutes while Huang Li fidgets and Mei Shu’s worried stares growing increasingly frantic and Mei Dejun’s furrowed brow grows more intense. Then, finally, blessedly, Zhong Sicheng steps out of Jiang-zongzhu’s room, face blank. Huang Li wants to kiss him, if only in thanks for breaking the tension. Mei Shu follows him as he approaches, craning his neck to look around him into the room. “Zhong-ge,” he says, voice hushed. “Is... Is everything alright?”

Zhong Sicheng opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Wordlessly, he steps aside, letting Huang Li and Mei Shu have a clear view into the room.

Despite the sparse decoration, it is the most opulent room Huang Li has ever seen in Lotus Pier. The calming scent of lotus lingers in the air, and he steps forward to chase it as his eyes dart around the room. It is nothing like the barracks, nothing at all - they could fit ten people in here, easy, with plenty of room left for more if desired. On the wall, a sword is mounted, one Huang Li has never seen; at first he thinks it’s a carving, but would a carving be in a place of honor? What kind of sword has a hilt and scabbard that look like that, like driftwood twisted in the waves? A tea set sits at the table below it, fine cups and kettle made of jade. The cushions are Yunmeng purple, just like the wall hanging of their sect symbol, and the gauzy curtains of the bed -

The bed.

On the bed, curled up in only his inner robe, dark hair loose and tangled beneath his head, lay Jiang-zongzhu. This in and of itself isn’t so strange - everyone sleeps. The thing that made Huang Li’s breath catch in his throat isn’t, exactly, the smooth skin of Jiang-zongzhu’s chest on display, though that certainly doesn’t help matters. No, it’s the sleeping bundle he holds tight against himself that does it; Jin Ling, the loudest baby he’d ever had the misfortune of hearing, is clinging to his uncle’s loose robe, tiny mouth open and eyes darting beneath closed lids as he dreamed. It is the quietest, and therefore, cutest, Huang Li has ever seen him, and his heart goes thump-thump-thump in his chest with the sudden swell of affection. One of Jin Ling’s hands is curled around Jiang-zongzhu’s long, thin pinkie. Jiang-zongzhu is smiling in his sleep. He looks so much younger, Huang Li realizes. He looks his age. Barely three years older than Huang Li himself.

“Mei Shu,” Huang Li says, voice hoarse. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Mei Shu,” he says again. The boy just hums. Huang Li would look to see if he’s gaping like a fish, but that would mean looking away from the bed, and that is the last thing he wants to do. “We’re not dreaming, are we?”

“Dreaming about what - oh.” Mei Dejun cuts off, and Huang Li really wishes he could tear his eyes away because Mei Dejun has never sounded surprised in the entire time he’s known the man. “Oh, that’s precious.”

“That’s one word for it,” Huang Li says, an almost giddy grin spreading on his face. “Who would’ve thought? Jiang-zongzhu is a cuddler.”

“They’re so cute,” Mei Shu coos, awe clear in his voice. Huang Li looks over, finally, and sees that he is, in fact, gaping like a fish, ears burning red. “I’ve never seen Jiang-zongzhu look so... Happy.”

“Not a lot to be happy about,” Mei Dejun says, voice low, “when your entire family is gone.” It is a reality they have all had to be reminded of, once or twice. That Jiang-zongzhu lost his sister and his brother just a month ago, that he lost his parents and his friends in the Wen attack only three years ago, that he’s rebuilt the sect and his life by clawing the pieces back together with his bare, bloody hands. It's why they all chose to follow him. Huang Li’s shoulders slump as he watches uncle and nephew cling to each other in their sleep, heart aching.

“Not all of it,” Mei Shu whispers. There is hope on his face when Huang Li looks over, and Mei Shu looks up at him to give a small smile. Huang Li had never noticed it before, but he has dimples. “They’ve got each other, don’t they? And us, now. Neither of them are alone anymore.”

For a moment, they are all quiet. Huang Li wishes he could believe as easily and whole-heartedly as Mei Shu that everything would be alright. There is truth to what he says, Huang Li knows, but only the simple truth of a child. The pain in Jiang-zongzhu’s heart may never fade, even if he gets married and has fifteen kids. Huang Li’s pain certainly hasn’t left him, or Zhong Sicheng, nevermind Mei Shu’s gege, whose pent-up anger and heartache comes out daily on the training fields. Huang Li’s got the bruises to prove it.

It is Zhong Sicheng who speaks. “We shouldn’t wake them,” he says, careful as he steps back toward the door. “Or tell anyone what we saw.”

Fat chance, Huang Li thinks. “Right,” Huang Li says, taking Mei Shu’s sleeve to tug him along. “C’mon. We need to get back to our posts.”

---

There is song in Lotus Pier.

Three times a day, it can be heard; a low, lovely baritone that echoes over the lotus ponds and bounces off the rooftops. The owner of the voice is well-known, though no one has the audacity to name him. The songs he sings change over the months, but the disciples like one best. It’s a haunting lullaby, the kind that leaves you feeling hollow in your bones and demands listeners. A ballad long forgotten, some say. Others think the singer composed it himself, that it was borne from the ceaseless suffering he faced. The only thing anyone agrees on is that it isn't a song from Yunmeng, or the surrounding areas, for that matter.

Sometimes, Huang Li thinks he hears a flute playing along, twining around the voice and making it whole.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs #jiang cheng #jin ling #mdzs fic #ly's writing #uhhh tell me what you think!!! i wanna Hear it!!!

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Love makes blind

Chapter 2 out of 4

Jonny gets headaches, when the others find out it leads to the revelation that he actually needs glasses. Through the whole process, he and Tim grow closer as xe is there for Jonny.

Getting together, slow burn.

On AO3.

Ships: Jonny d’Ville x Gunpowder Tim

Warnings: Jonnys low self esteem. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

A/N: Tim uses xe/xem/xyr pronouns, I myself don’t so if I mess up, I apologize and please point it out to me :)

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t forever, but the next conscious thought Tim had was waking up and the distinct feeling time had passed. Xe did not want to wake up though, xe was warm and comfortable, so xe burrowed xyr face into the warmth and groaned.

Above xem someone laughed and there were vibrations in the chest Tim was using as pillow. Wait, chest? Xe shot up and found xyrself hanging over Jonny, hands on both sides of his body.

He looked livelier than yesterday, however that wasn’t been very difficult with how he’d been. His eyes were still a bit red, but overall he looked good. Tim swallowed, before xe asked: “How do you feel?”

“Good, better.” Jonny answered.

Tim lit up with his voice, glad that Jonny wasn’t too overwhelmed to speak anymore, and said: “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jonny groused, “I was fine. No need to make a big deal out of it.”

That sobered Tim up a bit and xe frowned: “Jonny,” xe waited until he looked at xem, “you scared me yesterday, don’t say you were fine. It’s okay that you weren’t, but you don’t have to keep on a strong facade.”

It seemed Jonnys resolve was crumbling, but he still weakly tried: “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, no need to worry.”

“You know, that is not as comforting as you think.” Tim told him raising a brow at him, “It’s actually quite the opposite, you dealing with that on your own, why?”

Tears gathered in Jonnys eyes and he tried to blink them away, he shrugged weakly, he didn’t really have the energy to deal with this. His headache was gone, but he didn’t feel very rested and Tim looked so beautiful and concerned as xe leaned over him.

“You don’t know why or you don’t want to tell me?” god, Tim had always been too good at reading him.

“It’s stupid.” he mumbled.

“Why is that?” Tim asked and Jonny wondered if xe knew how pretty xe looked with xyr hair falling like a curtain xyr face, making a little bubble around them.

His heart ached with how much he wanted to pull xyr close and a sudden realization came over him as he remembered why he wanted to shoot again in the first place: impressing Tim.

Sure, when he found out it wasn’t working like he thought, he’d spiraled into obsession born out of fear of being incapable and not enough, but he felt like that most of the time, but the impressing Tim part had been new.

He blinked and a tear slowly slid over his face as he whispered: “I didn’t want you all to find out.”

His lip wobbled with the confession and Tim could only watch as his face crumbled again, still unable to do something about it and feeling like xe caused it.

Xe gathered Jonny back into xyr arms and leaned back on xyr knees, taking Jonny with xem as xe rocked him back and forth. Tim shushed and soothed him: “Hey, it’s alright, it’s all good. Just let it out.”

After a few seconds Jonny gasped: “No, no, it’s not.”

The hand that was rubbing his back stilled and Tim leaned back to look at him, a frown on xyr face: “Why is it not okay, Jonny?”

Xyr face was so open and honest that Jonny couldn't help but say: “It’s just not okay that I can’t seem to shoot right, so I can’t protect anyone and it all hurts and I can’t even do anything right without messing up and it’s all stupid.”

He was blubbering at the end, new tears flowing over tracks that hadn’t had the chance to dry. Tim held him close to xyr chest again, as xe tried to process everything Jonny had blurted out.

It was obvious that he was blaming himself, but it hadn’t seemed connected to the headaches, which what xe had asked about. Xe did have something to ask about now, however: “Can you tell me how your aim is connected to the headaches?”

Jonny took a few shuddering breaths against the crook of xyr neck, where he had hidden his face away, then he just gave himself over to telling Tim everything as he said: “The headaches got worse when I tried to shoot well again. I should be able to shoot well, but it’s gone now and whenever I try the concentrating hurts, but I need to shoot well.”

Tim frowned, that should not happen, at least xe thought it shouldn’t, but xe was not the best expert on normal human eyes, so xe focused on the last part: “You don’t have to shoot well, love.”

The pet name had just slipped out accidentally, but Jonny didn’t seem to mind, just burrowing his face further into xyr neck as he said: “Yes, I have. What if you’re all in danger and I need to shoot someone, but I miss and you all get hurt?”

“We’ll heal, we’re tougher than we look.” a hint of a smile crept into xyr voice.

“But what if it’s not enough, I can’t- I can’t loose you.” Jonnys voice cracked and Tim could feel xyr heart break a little for the First Mate.

Jonny sobbed against xyr again and xe resumed rubbing his back and rocking him back and forth as xe soothed him: “It will be enough, don’t worry. You’re not going to loose us, I promise, alright, I pinky-promise. I’m sure that with Brians knowledge, Ivys library and Raphs science we can make the headaches go away and get you to shoot again.”

“You really think so?” his voice was fragile, but hopeful.

“I know so.” Tim promised, hoping xe wouldn't have to break it.

Jonny sniffled a bit more, but the crying had stopped and he didn’t fight it when Tim pried him out of the crook of xyr neck and cradled his cheeks between xyr hands as xe wiped the tears away, smearing Jonnys run down make up in the process.

When xe was done they stared each other in the eyes, before both blushed as they realized that Jonny was practically straddling Tim and hanging off xem like a koala. Jonny let go if burned, but hadn’t realized that he was in an unstable position, only held upright by the arms around Tims neck, and toppled over backwards.

Blinking a few times he looked up at Tim, who was now kneeling between his spread legs. Both scrambled backwards until they were sitting on opposite sides of the bed.

Tim cleared xyr throat: “Well, uhm, sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Lets- lets just look for some people who can help, alright?”

Xe got up, not daring to look Jonny in the eyes as xe waited for Jonny to follow and tell xem to forget all this ever happened.

Instead Jonny whispered: “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Looking back xe saw Jonny, brow furrowed as he looked intensely to the bed, his cheeks were gray with ruined make up and he looked scared but also determined. He looked back up and stated: “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Thank you for being here.”

Wordlessly Tim stared at him while the words hung heavy in the air around them. Slowly xe said: “What?”

Jonny took a deep breath: “I said thank you for being here, it was nice that you cared enough to help me with my headache and then my breakdown, I didn’t mean to put all of that on you, but thank you for staying anyway. Now, please listen, because I don’t think I am physically capable of saying all of this again.”

It was quiet again as Tim went through the words again, then xe smiled: “No problem, Jonny. You didn’t dump anything on me.” a beat of silence, “And of course I care.”

“What?” Jonny looked startled.

“Of course I care enough to help you, why would you think I didn’t?” Tim asked.

Helplessly Jonny shrugged, before he explained like it was obvious: “I’m annoying and the reason you’re here and you hate me?”

Tim opened and closed xyr mouth in shock a few times, then loudly exclaimed: “I don’t hate you, what the fuck!”

“You don’t?” Jonny asked, just as shocked and confused as xe felt.

“No.” Tim said, “You’re my best friend.”

“I am?”

“Yes, of course you are.” Tim told him, “Didn’t- didn’t you know that?”

“Uh, no,” Jonny scratched the back of his head then quickly added, “but that’s not your fault. Nastya always says I’m socially oblivious and a doom-thinker with no concept of self-esteem. Her words.”

“Oh, Jonny.” xe sighed.

“Sorry?”

“Not sorry, you idiot.” Tim told him, walking back to the bed to give him a big hug, “I should’ve been clearer.”

Jonny swallowed and hugged xem back. He softly asked: “Why are you always trying to be better than me? Just confused if we’re friends.”

“Uh,” xe knew that xe had been showing off, trying to get Jonnys attention all on xem at every chance, because it was intoxicating to have, “Just the dynamic between us, I guess.”

“Hmm.” Jonny hummed, “Can we find a new dynamic? One where we don’t fight so much?”

“Course.” Tim said as xe let go, xe gave Jonny a look and commented: “You’re softer than normal, it suits you.”

Xe wanted to hit xyrself for that, but it was too late, the words were already out xyr mouth.

Jonny in turn just looked startled for a moment, then blushed heavily. Tim remember xe’d thought xe’d seen Jonny blush last night, now that didn’t seem so strange anymore. Jonny shrugged: “Doesn’t seem worth the effort to look tough when I just cried into your neck.”

Tim chuckled at that and after a moment Jonny chuckled too and soon they were giggling on the bed together at the weirdness of it all.

When the giggling had died out, Tim turned to Jonny and said: “You don’t have to pretend with me, okay?”

“You don’t either.” Jonny told xem.

For a moment they stared at each other. Time seemed to stretch out, until Jonny couldn't take it anymore and blinked as he cleared his throat, before he got up and said: “Well, we got people to find.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim said, quickly following him as xe tried to burn the memories of Jonny in xyr arms, Jonny looking at xem like that and Jonny giggling, into xyr mind to treasure forever.

Jonny cleaned up his face before they went back to the common area, maybe walking a bit closer than before the whole thing.

When they entered Ashes and Brian shot up and Nastya turned around to look at them. Jonny ducked his head in shame and hid slightly behind Tim.

“How are you feeling, Jonny?” Brian asked kindly.

“Uh, better, no headache anymore, still a bit tired.” Jonny answered.

“Good, I’m glad. You scared us.” Brain told him.

Jonny bit his lip, then softly apologized. Ashes wasn’t having any of it, they just said: “No need for that. Just tell us what the hell happened. You were just being yourself, albeit a bit more prickly and then suddenly you were down.”

Tim could see Jonny wasn’t about to answer that, so xe jumped in: “Jonny got a headache. He has them a lot, but was hiding them from us like a idiot, but him falling was nothing more than him getting overwhelmed.”

“Snitch.” Jonny glared at xem.

Dramatically putting an arm around him, xe replied with an obnoxiously posh accent: “Here to help, darling.”

Jonny shoved xem off, but he was smiling again. Nastya raised a brow at him and commented: “You two are friendly.”

They both got a bit red, then Jonny said: “So maybe you were right and xe didn’t hate me, but that doesn’t mean you get to be smug about it.”

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Tim added.

It seemed like xe’d cut Nastya off, who had been about to make a comment, but instead frowned and asked: “Friends?”

“Yes, Nastya, do keep up.” Jonny told her.

Getting back on topic Tim said: “Anyway, Jonny thinks the headaches have something to do with concentrating on stuff or something, so I thought maybe one of the crew would know something about that.”

Xe gave Brian a look, who pointed at himself surprised as Tim nodded, then he said: “Uh, could be something with your eyes, but Raphaella would know more about that.”

“Then we’ll go to her.” Tim said brightly, already pulling Jonny along.

Tim didn’t check to see who followed, but everyone was there when they arrived at Raphaellas lab, slamming the door open, startling her enough to make her drop a substance that ate through her desk.

She ignored it in order to wave at them with a smile as she asked: “What are you all doing here? Not that it isn’t a welcome surprise.”

Jonny got pushed forward by Tim as xe explained: “Jonny gets headaches from concentrating on stuff. Do you know how we can fix it?”

“I could’ve said that myself.” Jonny grumbled, getting ignored.

Raphaella walked up to Jonny and pulled him towards an examination table where she inspected his face carefully. She asked: “When do they happen the most?”

“Uhm, they started getting worse when I tried to focus on something far away a lot.” Jonny told her.

She brightened up and ran off to pull up a chart with rows of rings from big to small with openings at different places. She pointed at a top one and asked: “Where’s the opening?”

“Left.” Jonny answered, “Why are we doing this?”

“Just humor me.” she replied.

Jonny didn’t seem to have figured out what he was looking at, never having seen a proper doctors office in his life, but it dawned on the others what was happening here. An eye test. With big eyes they followed the proceedings.

They were on the fourth row when Jonny angrily exclaimed: “How is anyone supposed to see that shit. I don’t fucking know, okay. Happy? Can someone please explain why the hell I’m even doing this.”

“It’s an eye test, idiot.” Ashes told him from where they were standing next to him, “And I can see all the rows perfectly.”

“What! No?” Jonny said, leaning forwards and looking at the chart again, “No.”

“That could be the reason the headaches.” Raphaella explained, “Your brain needs to make too much of an effort to see everything and the strain outs itself in headaches. The more you try to see, the more you strain, the more headaches you have.”

“But I’ve never had any problems with my sight.” Jonny sounded a bit scared.

“Head trauma can also cause loss in eyesight.” Raphaella told him gently in an attempt to calm him.

“What about my mechanism? Shouldn’t it heal that?” the calming had not helped him.

Raphaella thought for a second, then lit up as she got the answer and proudly stated: “It’s probably that it was a design flaw. You lost your sight a bit, but Nastya already had glasses and with Brian it wasn’t an issue, same goes for Ivy, you know hard to have brain damage there, and by the time Ashes got mechanized Carmilla had gotten the flaw ironed out and it wasn’t an issue anymore.”

Jonny gaped for a second, then seethed: “That bitch! I told her my aim was shittier and she said it was nothing, that I’d just gotten lazy.”

“Hey, hey, Jonny, calm down.” Tim put a hand on his shoulder, “We know, she sucks, nothing to do there, but at least we can fix it.”

“I’m not wearing glasses.” Jonny huffed.

“Why not? Do you think they’re stupid?” Nastya said in a dangerous tone.

Jonny swallowed: “No, of course not. Just completely inconvenient.” and an obvious weakness he added mentally.

“Do it for us.” Tim blurted out.

“What?” Jonny asked and xe got looks from the others as well.

“If you wear the glasses, you won’t have headaches anymore. I don’t want you to have the headaches. If they’re as bad as the one from yesterday, I don’t want you to have them anymore. So even if you hate them, wear them for us.” xe explained.

It was quiet as Jonny thought it over.

On one hand he really wanted to make Tim and the others happy and wearing the glasses would make them happy, he also would be able to shoot properly again, but on the other hand he already was a stupid little asshole and the glasses would just highlight another place where he wasn’t good enough.

Apparently he’d been quiet for too long, because Tim softly asked: “Jonny?”

“Nothing.” he answered, gesturing vaguely, “It’s just- it’s just- you know?”

“I know it must suck.” Tim smiled gently, “But it’ll help. You’ll have to get used to it, but you will be optimally functional again.”

He supposed the pros outweighed the cons, especially if he would make Tim happy and be able to see xem better again. He sighed and agreed: “Fine, get me the stupid glasses.”

Raphaella dragged him off to do more tests to get the perfect glasses, while the others slowly left the room until it was just him, Raphaella and Tim. He was glad Tim hadn’t left him.

“Alright, I can have them in a few hours, though if you want different frames than these ones you will have to wait until we’re planetside again.” she held up a pair of golden wire frames, with slightly big round lenses.

“Try them on for a sec, I’ll tell you how stupid you look on a scale of one to ten.” Tim encouraged him teasingly, “Promise not to lie.”

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but humor xem, so he put on the glasses and looked at Tim and did a flourish: “So, how do I look?”

Jonny looked absolutely adorable. The glasses highlighted the soft features in his face and made his eyes seem bigger. Tim felt xyrself flush, xe would have to make a serious effort to talk to Jonny if that was what he was going to look like from now.

“That stupid, eh.” Jon laughed self deprecatingly, taking Tims silence for disapproval.

“No!” Tim stopped him from taking the glasses off, a bit calmer xe said: “No, you look- you look great, it suits you.”

Xe got a skeptical look, but Jonny shrugged and told Raphaella: “These have been Tim approved, apparently, so I guess they’re fine.”

“I think they look nice too, Jonny.” she told him, taking the frames back, “I’ll come find you when they’re done, okay?”

“Alright, thank you, Raph.” Jonny sighed, as he followed Tim back out of the lab.

When they were in the hallway, Tim asked: “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he didn’t seem convinced of his own answer and realized xe wasn’t either, so he shrugged: “Just another part where I went wrong.”

“Hey, you don’t get to be mean to Jonny, he’s my friend.” Tim told him. Xe was glad that Jonny laughed at the comment, then xe went on: “Seriously, though, needing glasses isn’t a weakness. It happens, Nastya has glasses, she’s not weak, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose, but she also has a lot of good points.” Jonny sounded so resigned and sad.

Tim stopped and grabbed Jonny. Xe looked him in the eyes and said: “You have a lot of good qualities. I never said this, because I thought there was no need to feed your massive ego, but it seems your ego is starving.”

“What are you going on about?”

“You’re a great person. You have many good points. You make sure everyone is alright in your own way and make sure everyone is happy. You’re the one keeping us together, everybody loves you, okay. Don’t get it into your pretty little head that you’re not, okay, cause you are.” Tim ranted at him.

It was quiet as Jonny blinked a few moments, then he nodded and said: “I’ll try?”

Not what Tim was hoping for, but good enough. Xe nodded back: “Good, I’ll make sure you won’t forget.”

They looked at each other for a second, then awkwardly coughed, before silently walking to the common area, to wait till Raphaella was done.

It wasn’t until dinner that they saw her again. In her hand she had the glasses and she proudly presented them to Jonny, who shrunk under everyone's eyes as he took them form her.

“Since when does Jonny have glasses?” Marius asked.

“Since today.” Nastya told him, “The idiot hadn’t realized he needed them.”

“Not an idiot.” Jonny grumbled, putting the glasses on the table.

“Oh come on, you’re not gonna try them on? I want to see if I got them right, come on, come on, please.” Raphaella said.

Jonny groaned, but still put on the glasses. He turned to everyone and said: “You get two minutes to laugh at me, then I’m murdering anyone who does.”

“What? Why would we laugh?” Brian asked, “They suit you.”

“Are you sure you’re not able to lie?” Jonny sounded suspicious.

Brian showed him the switch and smiled: “The glasses look good on y-”

“Holy fuck!” Jonny shouted cutting him off, “I can see your switch from here!”

He looked around the room with wide eyes of wonder, taking the time to look at everyone, sometimes shaking his head and looking again.

It was utterly endearing.

Then he looked up and gasped: “Did y’all know Aurora has panels on her ceilings as well?”

“Yes, yes, we did, Jonny.” Ashes smiled at him.

“Ahw, you’re so cute.” Marius told him.

Jonny flushed bright red and Tim suddenly wondered how xe though Jonny never blushed, when he blushed so easily and beautifully. Xe resolved to complement him more, just to see it.

Xe was pulled out of xyr musings with Marius falling over after Jonny had shoved him with a: “Don’t mock me, von Raum.”

“I’m not.” he exclaimed from the floor, “You look adorable when you look around like that. Like you’re discovering the world for the first time again.”

“Shut up and eat.” Jonny groused, not looking at any of them and stabbing his food harshly.

The others were smart enough to drop it and soon conversations had drifted elsewhere. Although Tim couldn't help but notice Jonny looking at stuff and grinning like a maniac to himself from time to time.

After that things went back to normal, only Jonny had glasses this time and xe and Jonny actually spend time together.

It was way more fun when they weren’t constantly trying to upstage one another and having Jonnys attention as xe told him about something stupid or made him laugh was even more intoxicating than xe would have thought.

They still played cards with Ashes, but they also talked together, hung out, softly played familiar tunes or existed in the same space in silence, just enjoying each others company.

A few weeks had passed like this and the whole crew was drinking together like normal while Marius was pissing Jonny off, also like normal. He was talking about some analyses or another when Jonny rolled his eyes as he drew his pistol and shot at him.

This was something normal as well, although instead of hitting the door frame next to Marius he shot the other straight through his brain, cutting him off mid-sentence as he fell to the floor.

It was quiet as everyone looked from Marius’s corpse to Jonny, who looked just as surprised as them. Tim broke the silence: “I guess the glasses are working then.”

Jonny grinned: “Hell yeah, I got my aim back.”

“Oh damn.” Ashes raised both their brows, “I always thought you were exaggerating when talking about your aim, since you were shit.”

“Wonderful what being able to see can do for someone.” Ivy deadpanned, not even bothering to look up from her book.

Tim laughed while Marius got up and frowned: “That was rude.”

“Then stop being annoying.” Jonny stuck out his tongue.

After that it went back to the usual shenanigans they got up to when drinking together, although Jonny did seem a bit more smug.

#RR writing #The Mechanisms #the mechs #Jonny d'Ville #gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville x gunpowder Tim #Nastya Rasputina #raphaella la cognizi #Ashes O'Reilly #marius von raum #drumbot brian #Ivy Alexandria #Love makes blind #Love makes blind chapter 2

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saibug1022 · 4 years

Text

Cicatrize Pt. 2

Part 1, Part 2 (You are here), Part 3

Eventually Roman had to leave even though it physically pained him. Before returning to his rounds however, he headed back down to the waiting room and wasn't surprised to see Patton still there. Although now Logan was with him and he was in clean not-covered-in-blood clothes. The two were curled up in one of the loveseats and to any outsider it may seem Logan was comforting Patton but Roman knew it was just as much the other way around. They jumped up as he walked in and he wordlessly gestured for them to follow him.

He lead them upstairs to the nurses station and after a bit of paperwork the two were allowed to visit him. Patton had immediately lunged for the door once they reached it but Roman stopped him, deciding they should probably filled in before entering. He didn't want to upset Virgil. Turns out he'd upset Patton instead, which was expected. Patton was trying his hardest to keep his cries quiet so Virgil didn't hear and even Logan had shed a few tears.

"This is all my fault," Patton cried

"Patton dear how could this possibly be your fault?" Logan gently pointed out.

"No you don't understand." Patton gestured at the door. "He's only in there because he jumped in front of me! I think it was some sort of fight or flight thing but the guy was cornered cuz the Police had just shown up so he looked at me and I thought I was going to die, next thing I knew Virgil was in front of me and then he'd fallen on top of me and was bleeding and-"

"Patton, while what Virgil did was incredibly reckless, it did save your life," Logan said calmly. How was he so calm? "But either way you cannot blame yourself for his choices, or the consequences of them."

Roman mutely nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak. He couldn't be sure if he was angry, because Virgil had saved Patton's life but he could've died. Gah, it was such a Virgil thing to do! And just like Virgil it frustrated him and filled him with pride at the same time. He dismissed himself to go on with his rounds and heard Logan and Patton enter the room behind him. He wanted to finish his duties as soon as possible so he could spend the rest of his shift with Virgil and researching whether or not their insurance covered physical therapy.

\\\\\\\

Virgil was finally discharged after two weeks, which Roman could tell he was very happy about.

He was also given a wheelchair which he was much less happy about.

He put up less of a fight when Roman pointed out it was either that or Roman carrying him constantly since his legs literally wouldn't support his weight, but he still pouted about it. Patton found it adorable and Roman heartily agreed, but he didn't say anything. Virgil now had more claim to the bed and he really didn't want to sleep on the couch. Virgil knew him too well though and saw the smirk on his face, so he declared Logan was pushing him out to the car and lifting him into the passenger seat. After Roman finished putting the wheelchair in the back of his car and Patton finally peeled himself off of Virgil, Roman said goodbye to the two and promised they could visit whenever, which he got the feeling Patton at least would be doing a lot.

The wheelchair took some getting used to for both of them, but Virgil most of all. Roman knew some basics considering he literally worked at a hospital, but he didn't have any knowledge that came with experience. He knew Virgil would build up some muscle after a while and be able to mostly push himself on his own, but he got tired out easily and he was still wounded so he couldn't strain himself too much. He only asked for Roman's help if he absolutely had to and he was frowning the whole time, but Roman just attributed that to the adjustment period and some frustration.

But then, after visiting his brother for the day (Virgil hadn't felt up to coming), Roman came home to Virgil...crying. He was on the floor in between the bed and his wheelchair. Roman had rushed to his side and reached out to help him but Virgil had recoiled from his hands. This wasn't uncommon. Roman knew Virgil had anxiety and while a lot of the time he appreciated physical comfort, sometimes he didn't want to be touched during an attack. So Roman just sat next to him and laid his hand within Virgil's reach for him to take when he was ready. He didn't say anything, just sat and waited, leaving it up to Virgil and not pushing him.

Eventually he noticed that while Virgil's breathing was still elevated, the sobs had stopped and he felt a tentative hand on his fingertips. It hesitated but then it took his hand, which Roman knew was Virgil's silent way of saying he was ready for comfort. In an instant Roman had scooted over and pulled Virgil into his side. Virgil started muttering and clinging to Roman's shirt. He couldn't make out everything his fiance was saying, but he managed to gather that he'd been trying to get into the wheelchair but had fallen and gotten stuck and everything overwhelmed him, and that he didn't want to call Roman for help because he didn't want to bother him. As soon as he heard that Roman blinked in confusion.

"Love, it wouldn't have bothered me," Roman assured him. "Remember what I said that first night at the hospital?"

"We're in this together?" Virgil answered, but it was pitched like a question.

"We're in this together," Roman confirmed. "I know I can't even pretend that I'm the one hurting here other than that it hurts me whenever you're hurting. But I'm here for you and more importantly I'm here with you. I'm here to help you, beautiful. I will never think you're a burden."

"Thanks Roman," Virgil said after a moment. Roman knew it wasn't that simple, that one talk wouldn't clear up something like this, but at least it was a start.

"Plus I think my brother would clobber me upside the head if I ever hurt you," Roman joked, which got a snort of laughter out of Virgil so he continued. "I'm serious, I think my own twin likes you more than me."

"So I guess I don't have to ask how your day with Remus went," Virgil said. "You sound like you're barely holding back a story so tell it."

Roman launched into the story about how crazy antics with his brother seem to get and felt Virgil snuggle into his side a little more. Yeah, it was a start.

//////

Roman had had a shitty day.

Patton would tell him to describe it in any other way possible and Logan would tell him that as a doctor surely he had a large enough vocabulary to use another adjective but he thought it was justified. He saved a patient's life which in and of itself should have made him feel fan-fucking-tastic, but another doctor took all the credit and Roman got in trouble because he had just jumped in instead of alerting people despite the fact the patient was coding and if Roman had taken that time the PATIENT WOULD HAVE DIED!

He finally got to go home and barely managed to catch himself before he slammed the door. He REALLY wanted to but he didn't want to scare the shit out of Virgil. Honestly he really just wanted to get out of his work clothes, cuddle with Virgil and watch Mary Poppins. He walked into the bedroom, mouth open to begin ranting but paused in the doorway. As he'd entered Virgil had slowly pushed off the foot board so he wasn't leaning against it...and he didn't fall.

He was standing. Virgil was standing on his own!

He must have realized Roman was there because he looked up at him with the biggest smile on his face and Roman laughed in pure delight. They had barely seen any progress but the sly emo must have been working on it whenever Roman was at work and Roman just couldn't believe it!

It didn't last long because his legs still weren't strong, but Roman was there to catch him when he suddenly fell. Virgil burst into laughter and Roman joined in, the two giggling uncontrollably on the floor.

"I can't believe it!" Virgil exclaimed. "I fucking did it! Princey, I fucking did it!"

"I know!" Roman hugged Virgil as tight as he could and Virgil reciprocated easily.

Maybe his day wasn't so bad after all.

////////////

"Damn it!" Virgil cursed from where he had fallen. Again. "I did this just the other day, why can't I do it now?!"

Roman knew from other patients that physical therapy was a long and laborious, not to mention frustrating, process; Virgil obviously agreed with this sentiment. They were at one of his physical therapy appointments trying to get him to stand on his own. He'd stand with the help of the two bars on either side of him and then let go to try and stand. It wasn't going well. He'd only been able to stand twice in the three dozen attempts and only for a few seconds each.

"Well you were nearly paralyzed, Virge," Roman reminded him, carefully helping the other man to his feet so he could lean on the bars again.

"Exactly," Virgil's physical therapist, Emile, pointed out. "We knew going in this wasn't going to be a cakewalk. It's gonna take time, your legs have to get used to supporting your weight again."

"Yeah well could they hurry the fuck up?" Virgil blew a piece of hair out of his face. "How long have we been doing this?"

"About," Roman paused, looking at the clock on the wall. "Forty-five minutes."

"Good," Virgil said. "Cuz I'm done with this, let's go."

"Actually I want to try two more things," Emile spoke up. "Virgil how much do you love Roman?"

"With all my heart," Virgil answered suspiciously. Roman inhaled sharply and then had to remind himself they were getting fucking married of course Virgil loved him. "Why?"

"Good," Emile nodded and pointed a finger at Roman. "Out."

"Excuse me?" The couple said simultaneously.

"You want me to leave?" Roman said incredulously. "But-"

"Just trust me."

Roman huffed and glanced at Virgil first, but eventually he did leave the room. He didn't get to find out until later what happened in there but apparently Virgil managed to stand twice in a row. When he was called back in he was instructed to stand right behind Virgil and be ready to catch him if he falls. He did, but only after standing two out of the five times they tried.

"Your problem isn't completely physical," Emile explained. "That's a huge part of it BUT it's also a psychological thing. Not only do you get easily frustrated, but Roman is a component. You're so worried about disappointing him, and I assume other people you love, that you try too hard instead of just relaxing and letting your body do the work. But also having him there ready to support you helps you relax. You're in this gray area where you need him but don't want to so you push him away."

The two just sat there and blinked.

"You sure you're not a therapist therapist?" Virgil asked.

"A lot of physical therapists have psychology training," Emile shrugged. "But that's not the point. Just, think on it, okay?"

Later that night, the lights were off and Roman's head was pillowed on Virgil's chest. He was almost asleep as Virgil ran his fingers through Roman's curls. Virgil must have thought he was fully asleep at that point, because he began to speak softly.

"I sometimes have trouble saying what I feel," Virgil started. Roman focused on keeping his breathing even so Virgil couldn't tell he was still awake, but he was curious where this was going. "And maybe it's cowardly to say this when you're asleep, but it's easier. While you were gone I managed to stand twice, one after the other. Emile, he said I'd have to make a choice but I didn't realize what choice until you came back in. I want you to know, at least in my head, that I choose you. I will always choose you, Roman. I don't say it enough but I love you, so damn much. I don't think I could have gotten through this without you."

Roman decided that he wasn't going to just lay there after a confession like that. Besides his breath hitched audibly so Virgil had to know he was awake. He sprang up and leaned in to kiss Virgil as hard and passionate as he possibly could. He heard Virgil laugh under him but he was kissing back with just as much fervor, so Roman swung one leg over him and straddled him for a better angle. Breathing was sadly a thing that had to happen, so Roman had to pull away, leaving them both panting.

"I love you too, my beautiful Raven," Roman muttered against Virgil's lips. "Always and forever. Till death do us part."

"We're not actually married yet."

"Don't ruin the moment."

////////

The next milestone Roman was home for.

Virgil was in the bedroom, probably scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, and Roman was in the living room, various medical research materials spread across the coffee table and couch as he tried to figure out this diagnosis for a patient of his. He heard shuffling and glanced up for a second, assuming it was Virgil's wheelchair on the carpet but did a double take when he saw Virgil standing there. His weight was being supported by the wall but his wheelchair chair was nowhere to be seen which meant, even though it was with the wall and it was a really short distance, Virgil had WALKED THERE.

"Holy shit," Roman gasped. He leapt to his feet, further scattering his papers, and began to make his way to Virgil.

"Wait!" Virgil ordered and Roman paused a few steps away. Virgil suddenly hesitated, looking at the bit of floor separating him from Roman and Roman realized what he was thinking.

"Come on," Roman encouraged, holding his hands out. "You can do this, I know you can. It's just a few steps, you've got this."

There were a few beats of silence where Roman thought Virgil might give up but then he shifted his weight and took the first step forward. Next step he would have to let go of the wall. He looked up into Roman's eyes and took a deep breath. Without averting his gaze, as if looking away would make him lose his nerve, he took the next step. And the next. And the next. And the last one. His legs finally gave out but he managed to grab onto Roman who caught him easily. Roman couldn't help it, he lifted Virgil into the air and spun him around in pure joy, startling a laugh out of him. He was fucking ecstatic. He remembered eight months ago when there was a good chance Virgil would never stand again, much less walk, but here he was stepping towards Roman like iron to a magnet. When he set him back down was the best part though. There was something in Virgil's eyes that made Roman happier than any amount of steps possibly could.

Virgil had hope again.

////

Roman jumped as he heard the door slam to the apartment. It was one of the rare occasions that Roman was home before Virgil, which in this case was because Virgil had gone to dinner with Patton. Roman surmised that it didn't go well, which was incredibly surprising. Usually Patton and Virgil got along like a house on fire, they'd never even had a fight (that Roman could remember). So when Virgil rolled into the bedroom with an angry scowl on his face Roman honestly wasn't sure what to do.

"Nightshade…?" Roman prompted tentatively. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine." Virgil muttered. Roman didn't even have to speak, he just gave him a look and he sighed. "Fine. I had a fight with Patton."

"I guessed that. Can I ask what about?"

"Me getting shot?"

That made Roman pause. "Wait, you got into a fight about the fact you got shot?"

"More like how I got shot," Virgil clarified. "He got pissed about how I took the bullet for him and I shouldn't have just jumped in front of a gun."

"Well," Roman hesitated. This had been a topic he'd been sitting on since he discovered the circumstances of Virgil's injury but he got the feeling Virgil would get very defensive. Except...he knew from experience you shouldn't leave something like this unsaid. "He kind of has a point."

"Oh you HAVE to be kidding me," Virgil scoffed.

"Excuse me?" Roman exclaimed, now much less tentative. He knew Virgil tended to react quickly but he'd thought he would at least hear him out. "Virgil you can't just jump in front of a gun!"

"What do you think I did it just for fun?"

"That depends, did you even consider how reckless and dangerous that was?"

"So now it's a bad thing to save my best friend's LIFE?!"

"I didn't say that!"

"You might as well have!"

"Are you being serious right now?"

"I don't want to fight with you, Roman."

"You think I do? You aren't even listening to me."

"Of course I am, I'm listening to you immediately take Patton's side instead of mine."

"This isn't about sides-"

“-I can’t believe you! What next, you lock me in my room like a misbehaving child-”

“-YOU COULD HAVE DIED!” Roman screamed. In the aftermath of the shout, the silence seemed deafening. Virgil rolled a little closer and took Roman's hand, Roman gripping it like a vice before he forced himself to rip his hand away.

“You could have died,” Roman said softer. “I nearly lost you. If you want to make this about sides, I’m on whatever side keeps you alive. Can’t you see that?”

"Roman-"

"No Virgil just...just think about it, okay? I-I think I'm going to stay at Remus's tonight."

"No Roman, wait-"

He didn't get to finish before Roman shut the door behind him.

///////

Roman sat on the bed in his brother's guest room, three days after his fight with Virgil. He'd texted Virgil when he'd arrived that if he needed help then he could still call him, but other than he hadn't spoken to him. He had talked to Logan and Patton though, who had informed him that they had helped Virgil once or twice and had talked to him, so at least he knew Virgil wasn't stuck on the floor in the apartment or something.

When he'd shown up at Remus's apartment late that night, he didn't even have to say anything, Remus just let him in, got them each a bowl of ice cream, and sat down with him to watch a bunch of Disney movies. Roman had ended up cuddled into his side but Remus didn't seem to mind. He'd finally snapped at around midnight he assumed, and cried in Remus's arms, everything just spilling out of him like a tsunami. He'd fallen asleep on Remus as his twin sang a song their mama had always sang to them when they were having trouble singing.

When he woke up in the guest room the next morning he went about his day as normal; he went to work, did his rounds, visited Bi Tea and PanCakes after work knowing Virgil would have already left, and then went home. Only this time, home was Remus's apartment rather than his own. He wasn't angry anymore, just…upset. Virgil hadn't even paused to consider his side and of course Roman understood and admired his motivations and it wasn't as if he wanted Patton dead over Virgil. But the Police had been just outside and Virgil had self-defense training, he could have tackled the shooter or even Patton and sent them both to the ground or SOMETHING. But Virgil wouldn't even acknowledge how completely reckless he'd been.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't anywhere near the worst fight him and Virgil had ever had, but it was the most serious. Roman was glad he'd gotten the space he needed and he knew he couldn't just go back until they made up, but God he just...he just missed Virgil. He knew they'd both been stressed lately, what with Virgil's recovery and the wedding in just a few months, and this was definitely something that had needed to happen that they'd both been putting off for a long time but it didn't make it hurt any less.

Then he heard his phone ring.

Roman had specialized ringtones for each of the important people in his life, so he knew exactly who was calling just from the ringtone. So when 'I Get To Love You' by Ruelle started playing Roman was so shocked he just stared at the phone for so long it went to voicemail.

'Shit,' Roman thought. Thankfully it was quickly followed by the ding of a new voicemail and Roman nearly dropped his phone in his haste to listen to it.

"Hey, Princey," Virgil's voice came through the speaker. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't call you Princey, especially if you're still mad at me."

Roman couldn't help the wet chuckle that left his throat at that.

"I don't know if you just couldn't get your phone or something or if you purposely ignored me, which I totally get considering everything I said. But these last few days have honestly been awful, to the point where my boss told me that he could tell something happened and to fix it. I think that was the last push I needed. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, I guess I was just scared, like I always am when we fight, because if you hadn't forgiven me yet or something and we got in another fight I, I don't think I could take that."

"Look what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. God, I was such an asshole and you didn't deserve that. I'm just so fucking stressed out, with how slow my recovery is going and the wedding being so soon. That isn't an excuse for talking to you like that. Just because I was on edge didn't mean I had to yell at you like that and you were right, I wasn't listening. You were just worried and I got on you for that. I basically yelled at you for loving me which was basically the most shitty thing I could've done and I'm so so sorry, Roman."

"I'll apologize again and again if you want, and if you need to stay at Remus's longer and you still need space then I get that. But I just...God I just miss you. I love you so much Roman and you've been so amazing through all of this and I haven't been appreciative so I'm sorry. I miss you so much and please just...just call me back, okay? I love you."

There was an audible click as the voicemail ended and Roman realized that at some point he'd started crying. He wiped the tears off his face and listened to the voicemail a few more times before he nodded to himself. He knew what he was going to do. He hadn't brought anything to Remus's, just borrowed his brother's clothes, so he didn't have anything to pack up. Speak of the devil, Remus poked his head into the room.

"Did I just hear Virgie?" Remus asked.

"I still don't get why you call him that," Roman shook his head. "But yeah, yeah you did. He left me a voicemail."

"Ohhhhhhhhhh." Remus nodded and flopped himself into the bed. "So he finally got his head out of his ass?"

Roman laughed, falling backwards so his head was in Remus's lap. It seemed like no matter what Remus could always make him laugh. Even years apart in college and while Roman was at med school hadn't changed that.

"I think we both did," Roman admitted softly.

"Ugh FINALLY." Remus threw his arms in the air in victory. "I was starting to get worried I'd written my best man speech for nothing."

"I can't believe you didn't write it the night before the wedding," Roman said and Remus flicked him on the forehead. "But in all seriousness Rem, thanks for letting me stay here."

"Of course bro," Remus assured him. "I take it that means you're going home?"

"Yeah. It's time we finally sort this all out."

"God, yes."

"I think you're more invested in my relationship than I am."

"Damn right."

////////

Later that night had Roman knocking on his own apartment door, praying Virgil would answer. He'd thought about just going in, he'd had the sense to grab his key, but considering he was the one who left he didn't think that would be very appropriate. He still wasn't sure what he would say but he'd listened to Virgil's voicemail yet again on the way over and he had a basic idea. He heard Virgil's voice as he approached the door and his breath hitched in his throat. Here goes….everything.

"Patton I said I'm fine you don't have to-" Virgil cut himself off as he opened the door and realized who was there. "Roman."

"Hi," Roman said. Virgil just blinked at him. Maybe Roman should have called and said he was coming back. "Can I come in?"

"Oh shit," Virgil said as if coming out of a trance. "Yeah of course, sorry."

He wheeled back enough for Roman to come in and closed the door behind him. They fell into a silence that Roman absolutely hated. He really should have planned more. He decided fuck it and knelt down in front of Virgil so they were eye level. He didn't miss Virgil wringing his hands in his lap or his shaky exhale. Roman held out a hand, always asking that silent question. Virgil gave a dry chuckle and took it with a shy smile. Roman leaned forward and used that hand to pull Virgil into his arms for a much needed hug. He immediately felt Virgil's hands fisting into the back of his jacket and Roman suddenly felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

"I listened to your voicemail," Roman said quietly, not pulling back. The angle was a little awkward and his back would start to ache if he sat like this for too long but it was worth it. "Sorry I didn't just call."

"No don't be," Virgil disagreed quickly. "This is...this is fine."

"I meant everything I said," Virgil finally spoke after a long period of them just holding each other. "I'm so sorry for everything I said-"

"-Virgil," Roman cut him off. He pulled him back just enough that he could see Virgil's eyes and used one hand to cup his cheek. A small crept across his face when Virgil leaned into his hand like always. "It's okay. I forgive you. Just...just please don't do anything like that again, okay? Please just promise that you'll try to find another solution."

"I-"

"And," Roman continued. "That you'll just listen to me next time okay? I don't like to fight with you."

"I promise," Virgil agreed, nodding his head. "On both counts."

"Good."

Roman leaned in again, this time lightly pressing his lips to Virgil's.

"I love you, Virgil Tempest."

"I love you, Roman King."

#sanders sides angst #virgil #roman #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides #sanders sides roman #prinxiety #prinxiety angst #angst #prinxiety fic

37 notes · View notes

canyouholdme · 3 years

Text

Self Para - Cormac Hayes

trigger warnings; death, loss, mourning, cancer, sadness.

“I need you to listen to me.” It was the conversation that Cormac had been avoiding through the whole clinical trial. He fielded the attempts at approaching anything near this conversation so many times, changing the subject to asking where the doctors were, or insisting that she needed something they’d left in the car, but this was it and they both knew it. “The doctors should be here by now,” he said, having to try even if it was useless and Abigail seemed determined. “This is the second clinical trial we’ve tried, we’re at the end of this. I’m not going to be okay.” Hearing the finality in her words was what Cormac had feared most, and the reality of her actually laying in her bed and saying it broke his heart. Sitting at the edge of the bed, his hand reached out and grabbed hers, but even through all of his attempts at distraction his wife had a resolved look on her face that he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. “No Abbie--”

“Cormac, I need you to listen.” she insisted, holding his gaze with her own leaving him no choice but to let her speak words that he never wanted to hear. “Don’t be strong. Be a mess. Let the boys know that it’s okay to fall apart,” Cormac was broken, he crumbled and felt ten times smaller than he was, seeing her like this and hearing her talk about what he had to do on his own - in a world without her. The tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched on to her hand, shaking his head being stubborn to the end which Abigail would be more familiar with than anyone else. “No.. No please don’t do this Abbie,” Her eyes showed him that she understood, but she didn’t stop and he was left staring at her praying to any and all Gods that would listen to take him instead. To switch their fates, because Abigail Hayes did not deserve to leave the world so soon, with so much more to offer it. “Look at me. If you ever have trouble with the boys, call your mother. You’re living proof that she knows what she’s doing.--- you need to hear me say this. Because you aren’t going to believe it if you don’t. It’s okay for you to fall in love again, you have my permission. Cormac, you deserve to be happy.”

Her hands were on his face now, cradling him as if he was the one who was suffering, the one who was in pain going through cancer treatments for an illness that should have never progressed as far as it did in someone with so much more life to give. “I am happy. Right here, now. I am happy. With you,” he insisted, but her eyes told him not to argue. “--you need to hear me say it, and I am saying it, with my whole heart. I want that for you. For you and the boys,” she said, as if she had insider knowledge that it was something that would happen eventually when Cormac could only see and feel what was happening right in front of him. How his wife - his sunny, beautiful, magnetic Abigail was fading in front of his eyes. “I should have done more. I should have insisted that they’d do more tests before using that device as a part of your treatment... I’m a doctor Abbie I should have been able to save you and now I’ve failed you.” he said, logically understanding that there was no way he could have known, but feeling responsible for her suffering anyway. “You and the boys are my life. I’m never going to be gone, I’m always going to be with you three.” she assured him, wiping his tears with her thumb as he held on to her hand with a tight grip, bringing her hand up to his lips for a kiss.

Abigail had died a couple of hours after that conversation, and that night when Cormac brought the boys home after the longest and most painful day at the hospital, he’d tucked them into bed, and ended up staying in their room, falling asleep on the bench by their window unable to bring himself to enter the bedroom he’d shared with his wife, only to wake up to some quiet sniffles and soft cries coming from Liam’s bed. Austin had been crying all day, at the hospital, in the car on the way home, through dinner... but Liam had never shed one tear. Cormac knew that people processed grief differently but his heart reached out to his son when he saw the shaking shoulders hiding the quiet sobs into his thick blanket, getting up and wordlessly walking over to the bed and turning down the covers, seeing his son’s tear coated face, “oh mate,” he said, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around him, remembering Abigails words and allowing himself to cry with Liam. “I’ve got you, it’s okay. You’re alright.” he assured him, rubbing his back as they both sat on the bed, Liam still wrapped in his blanket, and Cormac doing his best to console him. “Your mum loved you so much. You and your brother. She adored you,” he said, giving Liam a sad smile as they talked about Abigail. “She would have known exactly what to say to make you feel better wouldn’t she?” he asked, wishing more than ever that he could talk to his wife again, get her opinion, know what she would do because he knew that was the best option. Looking out of the window, Cormac never let go of his son for a second, “she’s not in pain anymore, Liam... she’s free from it all, but it’s okay to cry. Do you understand me? Your mum... was the greatest woman, that I’ve ever known -- will ever know. Losing her.. it hurts, I know it does. But she is always with you Liam. She’s never far away. You can’t see her, but do you really think that your mum would just disappear? If I know anything about Abigail Hayes, it’s that she had a heart so big that she could never really be far away.”

He took out his wallet, taking out a picture that he’d taken of Abigail at the hospital just after Liam’s birth, beaming with pride as she held a tiny baby swaddled up in her arms. “I think that this should be with you. Something to remind you that she’s always going to be with us, and that it’s okay to be sad that you lost her. She was the kind of person that everyone loved, and she poured out so much love for anyone that she met, that kind of heart never dies.”

#cormac #self para #traumatask08 #cancer tw #loss tw #mourning tw #death tw #sadness tw #sickness/illness tw

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loki-hargreeves · 5 years

Note

For the blurb thingy: Loki x reader where they still haven't realized they're head over heels for each other. Loki starts tickling Reader, and it's all game and laughter until they accidentally get too close™ and then Loki kisses reader. 😇❤

Warnings: fluff, implied smut ⚠️

Word Count: 2,2K This was supposed to be a drabble but I got excited

Author’s Note: Thanks for sending something, love! I hope it’s okay :)

Imagine Loki tickling you and then kissing youYour POV

After a long and tiring mission, I was delighted by the idea of returning to the compound with the rest of the Avengers and take a hot bath. I was practically dragging myself to my personal space and I headed right to my own bedroom, ready to toss my clothes off until I noticed I wasn’t alone. Loki was sitting on my bed, legs crossed with a book in his elegant hands. He was minding his own business on my bed. Not that I minded his presence, I just wondered why he chose my bed out of all the places in this huge compound.

He looked up from the inked pages and smiled at me, shamelessly checking me out. I didn’t want to get my hopes high so I told myself he checked if I was wounded or not. By now, I wasn’t even surprised anymore but it didn’t mean his gaze didn’t do anything to me - not that he would ever know. We were just friends, really close friends, and he was comfortable around me. The rest had no idea how cheeky and cocky Loki truly was. “Well? Mission report? Did anyone die?”

There it was, his wit clear as day which just happened to curl the corners of my mouth up a little bit. “No one died but I sure feel like it. My back is killing me!” I complained to him and only then began to undress from my combat gear. Loki had seen a lot of my exposed skin before so I didn’t care if he saw. I took off my heavy armour, tearing the leather and metal off on the floor until I was left in leggings and a white, tight tank top. I nearly stumbled when I took off my socks, making Loki chuckle at me.

“Come here before you stumble on your own feet. I’m sure you’ll pass out soon. You look exhausted”, Loki sighed and tried to get me to join him on the soft bed. His suggestion was tempting so I didn’t hesitate as I made my way to him. It's not like we hadn't been like this before. I had lost count on how many times I had fallen asleep on his lap or had him tailing me when we were around people. We were comfortable with closeness unlike many others. Loki seemed pleased with that as he set his book away on my nightstand, nearly knocking down a glass of water that he caught with his magic just before it would’ve hit the floor. Seeing how quickly he acted impressed me.

“That was amazing!” I let him know as I plopped down beside him, hugging a pillow as I lay on my stomach. Loki shifted so he was on his side, resting his weight on his arm so he could look at me.

“Oh, Y/N, I could do so much more.”

I knew he meant something entirely different but my mind jumped straight to the dirtier thoughts. Damn, I felt like a 15-year-old that had a dumb crush on someone out of my league sometimes. As if Loki was actually ever interested in me, a normal human. I brushed my thoughts away so I wouldn’t make things between us awkward. “Such as?” I raised my eyebrow, feeling like I just challenged the God of Mischief to prove his skills to me. He smirked and I knew that he got an idea of some sort.

“Are you doubting my words, Y/N?” Loki wondered and pretended to be offended.

A sly smile decorated my face as I turned to look at him. He was so cute and hot at the same time. “I’d rather be the judge of that myself.”

“Aren’t you a diverting, little girl”, Loki teased me and suddenly sat up straight. I watched as he glanced at my back and then cracked his knuckles. “You said your back was killing you?”

“It’s sucking the soul out of me!” I confirmed with a tad of dramatics on top. Loki rolled his eyes.

“I can’t let something as simple as back pain take away my only entertainment on this godforsaken realm”, Loki was just as dramatic. I knew he wasn’t rude when he called me entertainment nor did I believe he genuinely despised earth. This was just how we talked. That’s when I felt his soft, cool fingers touching my back, holding onto the edge of my top. That alone made my core shake with anticipation. I knew we were just friends but I was dangerously into him and I couldn’t stop it. “May I?”

I realized I had been holding my breath. “S-sure. If you can make my back feel better, you’re officially earth’s mightiest wizard”, I decided to make things playful again.

He hated when I called him a wizard but I had a feeling he secretly enjoyed it. “Call me a wizard again, I dare you.”

“Wizard”, I giggled, my tired body making me drowsy and honestly foolish. He didn’t do anything about it and I knew we were good. He mumbled something underneath his breath but I didn’t quite catch what he was saying. Perhaps he spoke old norse or one of the seemingly unlimited amount of languages he knew.

Loki lifted my shirt all the way up to my neck, leaving my back exposed for him. I told him to unstrap my bra too, which he did hesitantly, probably because now, one wrong move would expose my breasts for him. He made sure I was comfortable as he began working on my aching back. His fingers traced my skin lightly and I felt goosebumps rising already. Then the weirdest thing happened, I felt something warm radiating on my back and an electrifying feeling sinking into my flesh, forcing my muscles to relax. It took me a second to realize Loki was using his magic and goddamn it felt good! Loki’s hands massaged my sore muscles and his magic radiated all across me, making me curl my toes. It was mind-blowing and I failed to hold back a moan. I was in a state euphoria by now so I didn’t actually care too much, although it was slightly embarrassing.

“You like that?” Loki asked me after a while. I could’ve fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his deep, raspy, sexy voice pulling me back to reality.

“I do! It feels so good, Loki. Right there!” I cried out as he reached the worst spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I tensed the rest of my body because I expected it to hurt.

“Relax”, Loki demanded and I tried my best. Once I was limp beneath his touch, he added pressure on that spot and to my surprise, it didn’t hurt. His magic did wonders on me and my mind. Keeping my sinful thoughts at bay right now was impossible. How could I when my back was completely exposed to him and his hands caressed all over my tender skin? How could I not let my mind wander when his tone got demanding? When did I get lucky enough to befriend a god who knows how to instantly kill back pain? I was convinced I was going to need a cold shower after this and definitely some alone time. He was destined to leave me hot and bothered after this.

Loki’s hands reached the side of my ribcage and then it happened, it tickled a lot. The moment I felt his touch there, I flinched and a laugh left my mouth, probably startling him. “S-stop! Stop…it tickles!” I giggled and desperately tried to wiggle free but his magic basically paralyzed me, kept me from moving away. Immediately, Loki stopped and I caught my breath, only for a moment.

“You’re ticklish?” Loki wondered and I saw a spark in his blue eyes. Oh no…

“You just witnessed it, Loki.”

He put his hands back on my skin and caressed his finger on my ticklish spot. Before I could escape, Loki attacked me. “Perfect”, He revealed his pearly white teeth in a devilish smile as he began tickling me. My poor heart jumped to my throat and I tried to push him off as reflex, laughter erupting from my stomach and filling my room with noise. For outsiders, it probably sounded wrong.

“L-Loki!” I howled with giggles and squirmed underneath the god. He wasn’t using his magic this time so it should’ve been fair, only he was sitting on my legs now and I was tired.

“Who did you call a wizard?” Loki tried to keep a conversation going although I was barely able to talk. A part of me wanted him to stop so I wouldn’t cry laughing but I also liked it. I loved it when Loki put his guard down and got silly, but I was also really ticklish and it got hard to control my body.

Tears of joy gathered in my eyes as I tried to speak. He stopped tickling me for only a second, allowing me to speak. “You, I called you a wizard, wizard”, I took a deep breath and turned around a little bit, just so I could face him somehow. That’s when I remembered I was topless and I flashed some proper side boob to him. I was quick to pull the blanket to cover myself up and Loki looked to the side, trying not to stare. Wordlessly, I pulled my top on again and sat up, sliding away from Loki’s grasp. He faced me again but this time it was different. I could tell but I had something else in mind.

“Are you ticklish?” I questioned Loki.

Revenge.

“Don’t you dare, Y/N-” He tried to stop me but it was too late. I leapt at the god, aiming for his stomach so I could tickle him too but he was quick, really quick. Before I could try to make Loki cackle, which would probably be adorable, he caught my wrists and pushed me on my back. Before I knew it, Loki was on top of me and our faces mere inches away. Seeing him like this, so close, made my heart beat faster. I could feel his breath on my chest and the feeling of his hands on my wrists seemed to intensify. Our eyes locked and I swear, it felt tempting to get lost in the pure blue wonderland of his eyes.

Why didn’t he move?

Why didn’t I move?

“So you are ticklish? Good to know, wizard”, I decided to say something and oddly, I felt confident. The goofy atmosphere around us morphed into something more adult, more fiery. I didn’t mind being underneath him and honestly, I doubted his minded being on top. Telling was easy because I could swear I felt something poking my leg. It was a miracle I wasn't freaking out with excitement yet.

“Congratulations on gaining this knowledge. Unfortunately, you’ll never get to see that for yourself, little one”, He let me know mischievously, almost like he challenged me to try. Then he used that nickname which made my stomach tighter. Fuck, he was driving me crazy!

“I can always try. Challenge accepted, Loki”, I smiled and took a glance at his rosy lips. He noticed and got closer so our noses touched. Was this happening? Was I dreaming? Or were we about to lock lips like fools in love?

“Don’t be upset when you realize you’ve lost.”

“Screw you”, I spat at him and threw all my doubts and fears away. I closed my eyes and wrapped my legs around his body. Loki reacted to that and he was the one to close the distance between our bodies that were yearning for affection by now. Our lips collided like to oceans meeting, two powerful sources merging together which was overwhelming in the best, possible way. I had imagined kissing Loki before but never had I dared to think it would feel or taste this fantastic. Kissing him felt more satisfactionary than getting water after thirst, it tasted better than food after a long mission, it felt better than a cool breeze on a hot summer day. My mind nearly short-circuited by the passion I felt. Loki nibbled on my bottom lip, forcing me to open my mouth so he could explore me further. I moaned at the feeling of him dominating me so easily and how my body melted to his touch like magic. I could’ve stayed like this forever…

but I had to breathe. As we broke our kiss that cascaded a spell on both of us, we just stared at each other in awe for a moment. We were both stunned and we wanted more, which was painfully obvious now. I wanted the warm feeling of our lips together back and I wished to explore it more. “Woah”, Loki breathed out after a while. His grip on my wrists loosened and I could move my arms around his neck. I pulled him back to my face.

“Kiss me again, Loki. I know you want to”, I encouraged him to continue. Although we could be silly and fun together, I knew Loki had walls and I felt the urge to remind him that things were fine. The last thing I wanted to happen now was for him to startle and leave.

“With pleasure, dear.”

Tonight, he wasn’t going anywhere…

------

💚 Feedback would be nice 💚

#Loki #Loki Odinson #Loki laufeyson #Loki x Reader #Loki fluff #Loki smut #Loki x y/N #Loki Imagine #Loki drabble

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misssunflowersandsangria · 5 years

Text

My Baby You’ll Be

Ino

Sai tried to take deep breaths as Ino held tightly onto his hand. Sakura had just stepped out after checking her vitals. She still had time before she needed to start pushing, so right now his job was trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

“Aren’t you excited? In just a few hours our baby will be here.” Ino asked with a bright smile. Even while in the throes of labor she was still so dazzling. He just nodded wordlessly worried that if he began to speak the panic that he was trying to repress would come forward.

“Sai, honey are you okay?” She asked her husband worried making him feel worse. Here she was about to bring their child into the world and he was freaking out.

“Yes, of course.”

She frowned shifting to look directly at him. “Don’t lie to me.”

He sighed yet again, he knew that he couldn’t hide anything from her.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He finally replied looking away, not wanting to see the disappointment in her sky blue eyes.

Ino looked at him genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I can be the father this child needs. I didn’t have a father figure. I raised myself, how can I raise a son?” He felt the anxiety starting to surface.

“It’s natural to be nervous but I know that you can do this.” She tried to assure him.

He looked at her defeated and helpless. “How?”

“Because I know you and I know how wonderfully and deeply you can love. I’m scared too-”

“Don’t be you’ll be an incredible mother.” He told her cutting off her negative thoughts.

“How do you know that?” He looked at her directly.

“Because I know you.” His wife was incredible and excelled in all that she did. She was meant to be a mother and would be an amazing one. It seemed preposterous that she would question herself.

Ino’s hand came to gently rest against his cheek so that he couldn’t look away. “And I know you. Sai, you have to trust me. My mother died when I was younger so I only really had my father. It was tough sometimes especially when I just really needed a woman but my dad was the absolute best. I know what it means to have a good father. I would never have committed myself to you or started a family with you if I didn’t think that you could be an incredible father. Our baby is lucky to have you.” Sai couldn’t help but match her tears but nodded kissing her softly.

“Thank you my sweet Light. Once again you have pulled me from a dark place and put so much faith in me. I know that we will be okay because we have each other and soon this little one. I will do my absolute best for the both of you. I love you Beautiful.”

He knew that he still had some fears and insecurities that would pop up from time to time but he trusted his wife. If she could believe in him, then maybe he could believe in himself.

“I love you too Sai.”

Shika

Temari smiled watching her son run around and chase the deer. It was quite seldom that she and her little Fawn had time to themselves and so she took advantage of that opportunity. They began their day early with some training and now they were taking a break by feeding the deer and resting under a large tree.

“Mama?” Shikadai came over to rest his head on Temari’s lap his bright green eyes looking up at her.

She gently ruffled his hair. “Yes, my little Fawn?”

“What was grandpa like?” The question threw her for a loop. He had always been an inquisitive child and would ask her and Shikamaru questions that seemed beyond his years. They had always tried to be honest and factual with him. He was intelligent and if they didn’t answer his questions he’d find a way. This question about his lineage was not something that she expected. Although, she remembered that recently he’d found some old pictures and wondered if that is what inspired this question.

“Well, your Grandpa was a strong leader. He was well respected and bright, just as smart or even smarter than your father. He was an incredible strategist and led the Nara clan for many years.”

He shook his head confusing her. “No mama, what was your dad like? Grandpa Rasa?”

Now she didn’t know what to say. She had long come to terms with her relationship with her father. While the reanimation jutsu was incredibly horrific it did allow her and her siblings to heal by facing their father once again. She was thankful that Gaara had a chance to heal from his old scars. She didn’t want to skew her son's opinion of the old Kazekage. She had forgiven her father for his mistakes but it did not mean that she could forget what he had done.

“He did his best. He made a lot of mistakes, but he did the best that he could. I know that he loved me, your uncle Garra and Kankuro but it was hard for him to love us. My mother died when I was younger and I know that it hurt him a lot to lose her and to raise us without her. Things were a lot different in Suna than they are now with your Uncle leading, but I want to believe that he did what he did to keep everyone safe.

“I would be very sad if you were to leave Mama.” He told her clutching her kimono ever more so. The worry in his eyes made her heartbreak. He was just starting to learn what missions were and how serious they could be.

“My little one, I will not let that happen. Your mother is the strongest and cruelest kunoichi to ever live. You’ll always be my baby and I will be around for a long time.” She assured him. She knew that the lives that she and Shikamaru led came with risks to their lives and health but the devil himself would have to drag her to hell to separate her from her family.

“Good. Do you think that they would have liked me?”

She smiled brightly at him. “They would have loved you. Grandpa would have put you on his shoulders and paraded you up and down the streets of Suna. Grandma would have taught you to build the biggest and best sandcastles.” It was such a sweet image to dream of a complete family that loved and cared for her little Shikadai.

“I talk to them sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“At night I think about Grandpa Shikaku, Grandpa Rasa and Grandma Karura. I’ll tell them about what I am learning in school, any new jutsu and I let them know how you and daddy are doing.”

This surprised her. He always had an active imagination but this was a new development. “And what do they say in return?”

“They’re very proud.”

“Well they should be, you’re growing into such an amazing little Shinobi.”

He shook his head yet again. “No mama, they’re proud of you and daddy too. They said that you’ve both grown up and that you’re very good parents. I think that they are very happy for us.”

Temari tried to wipe her tears away before he noticed, trying to get these emotions under control. This was not how she was expecting this day to go.

“They also said that as long as we think about them, they’re never really gone. I think that's why Grandma Yoshino talks to Grandpa Shikaku so much, so that he stays around.”

Temari felt a sort of peace that she had never felt before come over her as the wind gently started to wrap around them. “Thank you Shikadai.” She pulled him into a warm hug her tears falling more steadily.

“Why mama?” He asked confused and worried about the tears in her eyes. His mama was strong, she never cried.

“For being you, for making me and your daddy parents. I love you my little fawn.”

He smiled and it reminded her so much of Shikamaru’s smile. “I love you too Mama.”

***************************************************

“Did you have a good day with Shikadai?” Shikamaru asked as he slipped into bed.

Wordlessly Temari curled herself into his chest as his arms wrapped safely around her.

“We have an amazing son.”

“I think so too.” He agreed kissing her forehead. He wanted to ask how she came to this conclusion, but it was better for her to take the lead in this conversation.

“Can we go visit Suna soon? I want Shikadai to learn more about that side of his family.” Their conversation and his interest today solidified her want to have her son be knowledgeable and proud of his Suna heritage.

“Of course Love, he should know just as much about his Sand lineage as he does about his Leaf.”

She nodded before kissing him ever so slightly. “Thank you Shika, I love you.” She whispered resting her head against his heart.

He smiled softly at her wondering what caused his wife to be so pliant and sweet but just chose not to question it. “I love you too Princess.”

Cho

Chouji looked fondly at the tiny infant lying safely, snuggled in her crib.

“She’s so small…”. Karui just laughed and kissed her husband softly.

“Babies typically are.”

“Not according to my mother. She claimed that I was the size of a toddler when I was born. She’s held it against me since then.”

Karui was well aware. Throughout her pregnancy, her mother-in-law told her horror stories of her pregnancy with Chouji and the ridiculous 30 plus hours that she was in labor with him. Thank goodness she’d been to war otherwise she might have been scared.

Chouchou was thankfully a relatively easy pregnancy. This made her worry about the future and that her child would be a handful when she got older to make up for it. During her pregnancy, Karui craved potato chips of every kind throughout, but she blamed that on her husband. Chouji was always so sweet and was able to get her some of her favorites from the Hidden Cloud. As cranky and vicious as she would become he would be there so loving and supportive reminding her just how fortunate she was.

Giving birth was exhausting and painful but she wasn’t one to shy away from pain and would gladly endure it to make their family complete.

“There’s nothing wrong with her right?” Chouji asked her, worry set in his eyes.

Karui warped her arms around him comfortingly running her fingers through his hair. “She’s perfectly fine, as though Ino or Sakura would ever let her be anything but perfect. She’s just small, she’ll grow. I was born prematurely and was much smaller than her. But I grew and became the strong, radiant woman in front of you. Chouchou has you as her father and me as her mother. She’s strong no matter what size she is or might become.” She felt him take a deep breath and nod.

“I know, I’m just a worrier I guess. When I met you I didn’t think that I could ever love anyone more. Then when I found out you were pregnant it was like this whole other part of my heart opened for her.” He smiled down at his daughter then up to his beautiful wife.

“Karui, just thank you. A gorgeous wife, and a perfect baby girl, these were all things that I could never have imagined for myself. I didn’t think that anyone could ever love me as I am and then you proved me wrong. I love you and Chouchou more than anything I’ve ever loved before. Sometimes when I think about it, it becomes overwhelming in the best way possible.”

Karui felt those tell-tell tears start to collect in her eyes. It had been an exhausting and emotional day but he still managed to bring her to such happy tears. She knew the extent of his self-esteem issues. She sometimes wished that she could have taken that pain and experiences that made him question himself so much. Although if she could ever do so, he wouldn’t be her kind, amazing husband.

“I am very lucky to have you as a husband and partner and Chouchou is very lucky to have you as her father. We will both love and protect her with everything we have. She’ll probably be stubborn but strong, loyal, but blunt and she will be loved more than she could ever imagine. She’ll always be our baby.”

Chouji nodded pulling his wife into a kiss. His heart racing as quickly as it did when they first started dating. Sometimes he wished that he could speak to the younger insecure child that he was and let him know that things turned out better than they could have dreamed. He had life long friends, an incredible wife and now with the addition of their little Choucho, a family that he’d lay down his life for in an instant. His life was full.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048953

#sai x ino #shikamaru x temari #chouji x karui #saiino #shikatema #chokarui #inojin yamanaka #shikadai #chouchou

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postapocalyptic-narnia · 5 years

Text

Any Way the Wind Blows

Chapter 3, complete Word count: 2218

When Shasta finally hauled the bike from the car wreck and righted it, stars were splattered across the dark blue sky, and the climbing moon shone on his crimson uniform. His tattered fishing clothes were stowed in the cargo rack and a honey capsule was tucked into his cheek. It was wonderfully sweet. He keyed in his fingerprint and mounted the bike as the engine thrummed. White lines twisted across the nav screen, marking the coast, cliff edges, and the road ahead. Wordlessly, Shasta began to drive.

A few hours into the night, it was clear that the trip was going better than the night before. As the path descended into twisting and crisscrossing ravines, Shasta began to lean into turns to help the auto-stabilizer, to accelerate and decelerate more smoothly, to anticipate the jumps and kicks of the bike when he cut corners or leapt potholes. The ravine walls were so high, three men stacked wouldn’t clear the upper rim, and the bed of damp pebbles crunched under the bike’s tires.

The moon was high when Shasta broke the silence. “Tell me about Narnia.”

“92% of my knowledge is classified beyond your current level of clearance. Eyes on the road, please.”

Shasta made a face. “My eyes are already on the road. Tell me the information I’m allowed to hear,” he prodded, swerving and thumping over ruts in the gravel.

“If you didn’t drift to your left every time you talked, I might be convinced.”

“I’m driving just fine!” Shasta protested. The bike hit a pothole head on, bouncing through with a thump.

“Eyes on the road!”

Shasta ducked his head, focusing on the road. The moon was bright, but the ravine floor remained swathed in shadows. He didn’t dare turn on the headlight while they were still near Bithersee. He swerved around a pothole, then began weaving, jiggling the handlebars so the bike zig-zagged.

“What are you doing?” the AI asked.

“Practicing,” Shasta said, squinting at the road. He nearly hit a protrusion in the canyon wall and jerked the handlebars to the side.

“Practicing what, exactly?”

“Control.” He wavered near the other ravine wall.

“I appreciate the sentiment but: stop.” Shasta grinned, wiggling the handlebars. The bike thu-thumped through another pothole. “I said stop! You’re scaring me.”

“Can AI feel fear?” he asked, genuinely curious.

The bike buzzed. “It’s hard to know. But I do know that these rocks would be a lot less comfortable to fall on if I were to turn off the auto-stabilizer right now, Mr. Ace Speeder.”

“Is that a threat?” Shasta asked, taking a sharp turn a little too fast and tilting momentarily.

The AI switched tacks. “If you have one pressing question, I’ll answer it as best as I can. Just stop doing– that.” Shasta immediately straightened the handlebars.

“Deal. Tell me–” Start small. Easy to answer. “Tell me what the route will be like that we’re taking to the capital. Will we be crossing any mountains?” That would be mad cool. The bike’s tires sent pebbles clattering against each other.

“Unlikely.” Its voice cut off. Shasta rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure there’s something else you can tell me that’s not classified,” he said, raising his voice over the noise of the path. The screen flickered, catching his eye. A volume symbol, dropping to mute. “What are you doing that for?” Shasta demanded. “That was hardly a real answer.” Words flashed across the screen.

“Cah– cau– you know I can’t read that,” he said irritably, his glance flickering from the glass screen to the road ahead. A headlight really would be nice at this point. He had the most uncomfortable feeling of being watched. It would be wise to slow down. Instead, he twisted the gas, apprehension prickling his scalp as he accelerated. His surroundings smeared past, the canyon walls loomed dark on either side, the upper rims lined with the jagged silhouette of rocks. And up ahead, a dark mass–

A gunshot split the silence, nearly scaring him out of his skin. Light flashed, plastic shattered, water splashed: broken fragments of his plastic water bottle skittered across the canyon floor. He screamed. Ahead, his eyes mapped the shadows into a hulking blockage stretching most of the width of the ravine, on which the shooter stood. A crash was inevitable.

“Brake or I’ll blow out your tires next!” a shrill voice shouted. Shasta had already slammed the brakes, fear shooting electric through his veins, both of and for the shooter. The blockage approached far too fast. Brakes squealed as he swerved, zigzagging, throwing his weight against the pull of the auto-stabilizer as he desperately fought to decelerate. Another bullet shrieked past, clipping his ear. The bike’s tires lost their traction and it slipped onto its side, skidding across the ravine bed, skinning the side of Shasta’s leg and spinning him to a stop at the base of the blockage.

Shasta lay on the ground, panting. The side of his leg burned and his whole body hurt. His ear stung. There didn’t seem to be enough oxygen to fill his lungs. Rocks and wreckage clattered near his head as a pair of boots hit the ground.

But instead of footsteps crunching towards him, he heard the bike being pulled upright. Shasta rolled over, panic icing his nerves. “Stop!” he said, arms flailing as he watched the shooter mount the bike with practiced ease. Their head turned towards him and then back to the nav screen, tapping the screen. It flickered to life.

The AI’s impassive voice echoed in the ravine, too loud. “Testing fingerprints. Fingerprints unknown.” The screen went dark. Shasta scrambled to his feet, wincing.

“Leave the–”

The shooter dismounted rapidly, leveling their gun at him. His words choked. “Key in your fingerprints or I’ll shoot you. Double-cross me and I’ll shoot out the bike’s tires, then you.” The voice was muffled by swathes of fabric, but they sounded– young. Young and pitiless. Beneath layers of cold, churning fear, Shasta felt a little irritation. Was this just another kid? They couldn’t be taller than him, and under all the jackets and scarves they looked skinnier, too.

“Give you my bike– or you’ll shoot me?” he repeated, trying to buy time for his breath to return. The shooter nodded sharply. Shasta took a step towards the bike, then his knees buckled. He would’ve fallen if the shooter hadn’t caught him roughly, locking one arm beneath his armpit, their pistol pressed across his chest. Seizing on the moment of distraction, Shasta grabbed at the pistol, knocking it from their grasp. It crashed to the ground– the shooter cried out– and Shasta lunged towards the bike, tottering as he lifted the bike. Before he could swing his leg over, the shooter tackled him and fell, in a tangle of limbs, onto the rocky bed of the ravine. With an oof, his lungs were emptied of air again. Before he could try to stand, the shooter had latched onto his arm and hauled him a couple steps to the downed motorbike, pressing his hand to the nav screen.

“Testing fingerprints. Fingerprints accepted. Clearance level D. Identity unknown. Hello, friend of Narnia.” The engine purred to life; the shooter dropped his arm and mounted rapidly. The engine revved… and then died. “Inconsistent weight detected. Auto-stabilizer jeopardized.”

It was calibrated for his weight. Shasta dragged himself to his feet once more, a triumphant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth– but the shooter ignored him, staring at the screen. “Friend of Narnia?” they muttered. They swivelled, hand shooting out, grabbing Shasta’s arm and pulling him off balance. He collapsed again with a grunt against the bike as the shooter pulled up his sleeve, revealing bare brown skin. “You’re not a real speeder!” they accused.

He jerked his hand back, pulling his sleeve down. “Yes, I am!”

“You are not! You don’t have the tattoo!”

He sputtered. Tattoo? “What does it matter to you?”

“You know, impersonating an imperial official is illegal,” they said.

“Yeah, well, so is stealing my bike!”

The shooter crossed their arms. “I bet it isn’t even your bike. I bet you stole it from a real speeder.”

“Did not!”

The other person huffed. “Look, I don’t want to waste time. Tell me what the override code is, and I’ll leave you with your supplies. And I won’t tell anyone that you’re running around impersonating a speeder.”

“There is no override code. How about you get off my bike and I’ll forgive you for wasting half my water supply, trying to rob me, and threatening to kill me!” he shot back.

The shooter just shook their head. Shasta glanced around, searching for a bargaining chip. There. The shooter’s fallen gun glinted in the gravel. He lunged for it and pointed it at them. They just tossed their head disdainfully. “You’re not going to shoot.”

“I will,” he lied, trying to set his face into something determined and dangerous. He failed.

“You won’t. It’s not as easy as it seems. You’re paralyzed.” They paused. “Well, here we are. I can’t ride your bike, and you won’t shoot my gun. You can’t walk out of here, and I refuse to. Is that the shape of things?”

Shasta mimicked their snooty tone. “That does look like the shape of things.”

The bike’s nav screen lit up. “Then maybe you two crackheads should start working on a compromise,” the AI said impassively.

The shooter screamed, almost falling off the bike. Shasta snorted.

“Who was that?” they demanded.

“That’s the bike,” Shasta said.

The shooter gestured wildly at the nav screen. “That is not the kind of language I’ve heard from any decent imperial AI.”

“Which logically suggests that I am not a decent imperial AI,” the bike said smoothly. “And perhaps if you would fill us in on your reason for attempted robbery we could come to a compromise that doesn’t end in us spending the whole night here.”

The shooter pressed a hand to their heart, shocked into honesty. “I need a ride to the capital.”

“Excellent, that’s where we’re headed,” the AI said. “The bike has space for two. Carpooling is good for the planet. And you could afford to do something nice for her once in a while.”

“I don’t follow--” the shooter said.

“We are not going together,” Shasta interrupted, glaring at the bike.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about,” the AI said.

“They just threatened to shoot me!” he said shrilly. “And you!”

“But they didn’t.”

“They’ll betray us in at the first chance!”

“Thieves generally avoid the authorities, actually,” it countered. “And a wealthy young woman who turns to armed robbery for a ride to the capital probably has bigger concerns than turning on her only ally.”

“Young woman?” Shasta asked.

“What makes you think I’m wealthy?” the shooter demanded.

“Ma’am, only speeders and the wealthy know their way around a motorcycle as well as you, and if you were a speeder you wouldn’t need to steal a motorcycle.” The girl and Shasta stared at each other in silence. Shasta’s mind felt like it was stuck in tar. Why was the AI so reasonable? Of course she would betray them… but of course she wouldn’t, that wouldn’t make sense either. “Shasta, if you truly feel that this is a bad idea-- and have a better proposal-- I defer to you.” The AI paused, letting its words hang in the air.

Shasta pretended to think, pursing his lips. But he didn’t have any better idea, and eventually he had to admit defeat. “Fine. She can come with us. At least for tonight. But I at least want to know your name,” he said, the last part addressed to the shooter with a jerk of his chin.

“And I want my gun,” she said. He hesitated. You won’t shoot. It’s not as easy as it seems. He believed that, at least. He passed the pistol to her. She tucked it into the folds around her waist. “My name is Aravis.”

“My name’s Shasta,” he said. “And you’re in my seat.”

“I saw how you drive,” she said. “I don’t want to end up a smear on the canyon wall.”

“The boy drives,” the AI cut in. “Not that I doubt your driving, ma’am, or prefer his.” Shasta’s smirk disappeared as fast as it had appeared. It was a barbed victory.

Aravis seemed about to protest, but then thought better of it and scooted back on the seat, allowing room for Shasta to sit. “And how should I address you, Mr. Not-a-Decent-Imperial-AI?” she asked, ignoring Shasta as he squeezed in front of her.

“My serial code is br33wf8hnii,” the AI said. It had never occurred to Shasta to ask this, which only soured his mood further.

“Br33--” Aravis began to repeat.

“Bree it is,” Shasta interrupted, tapping his finger against the nav screen. The girl’s bony knees brushed his hips, and he felt he’d already heard enough of her haughty voice to last a lifetime. “In the interest of not spending the whole night here, let’s get going, why don’t we?” Bree’s engine purred to life.

“Please do,” she said. Bree’s nav screen lit with the map of the road once more. Shasta maneuvered around the blockage and shot off into the night.

Tagged: @lasaraleen

#any way the wind blows #masterpost #narnia fanfic #post-apocalyptic narnia au

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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years

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So...I was going to answer my next prompt tonight, but I seem to have come upon a bout of writer’s block (which was bound to happen with the amount of writing I’ve been doing lately lmao), so I’m taking tonight off to come back at it in the next few days with fresh eyes - don’t worry, I’m still going to answer each and every prompt and continue posting fic every day this summer!

This fic was written last year for Week Forty-Four of 52 Weeks of 52 Prompts, which was, “A story that takes place the year you were born”, and for me that’s 1996. I decided to go with the age Fitzsimmons actually were in ‘96, which was nine, and from that came this Childhood AU that talks a bit more about Fitz’s grandma Evelyn that I’m always referencing in fics.

(Ao3)

“My grandmother’s dead.”

Jemma doesn’t register Fitz’s quiet admission at first, just humming noncommittally as she directs her entire focus onto her homework. After all, she’s been waiting months for her new school in America to allow her to skip classes like her old one back in Sheffield had, and this is the first time she’s been challenged in too long – excepting when she and Fitz get into their regular debates, of course.

Then, however, she runs back over what he’s said, and Jemma gasps, lifting her wide-eyed gaze from her science textbook to Fitz’s wobbling chin across the coffee table in her living room. “Fitz,” she whispers, not sure what else to say. Jemma counts herself rather lucky that she’s gotten nine years into her life without having to directly deal with death – as such, she’s not entirely sure what the proper response is when your new best friend tells you that his beloved grandmother has died.

“My mum got a call this morning,” he goes on, dropping his eyes to watch as his hands twist together in his lap. “Said it was sudden but she wasn’t in pain so…so I guess that’s good, right?”

“Right,” she assures him, even though she’s not sure either. Hesitantly, she reaches across the table, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I just…I dunno what…I mean, she and my mum were all I had, y’know?” Fitz glances up at her sadly, a searching look in his eyes.

Jemma actually doesn’t know – her family is absolutely massive. Holiday gatherings back in England are an event to be sure, with all of her aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and great-aunts and great-uncles. But, she knows that’s not what he needs to hear.

However, something in her tells her that maybe he doesn’t just need her to say that she understands. They’ve only been friends a short time (though it feels so much longer), and for all her great amounts of knowledge, Jemma still isn’t very good with social situations, but regardless she gives his shoulder a squeeze, smiles softly at him, and murmurs, “You have me too, Fitz. You’ll always have me.”

Immediately, she knows that it was the right thing to say. His face lights up and a smile begins to twitch at the corners of his lips. “Yeah?” he asks quietly, his tone slightly unsure.

“Yeah,” she confirms instantly and firmly.

“Okay.” He hesitates a moment, then lifts one of his hands to cover hers on his shoulder, and Jemma can’t help the way that her smile grows. Abruptly, he says, “Come with me.”

Her smile fades into a frown as she tilts her head in confusion. “Go with you where?” Though Jemma prides herself on being rational, she has the sudden and absurd thought that the answer didn’t matter; she’d go anywhere with her best friend in the world, all he has to do is ask. However, she shakes that off, because it’s really quite insane and not to mention impossible – and really, they are both nine years old, so it’s not as though there are many places they can go.

“My mum and I, we have t’go back to Scotland for the funeral and I…I don’t wanna be alone,” Fitz admits, his words rushed toward the beginning of his statement, but slowing down at his admission of fearing being alone.

“You won’t be alone,” Jemma points out, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You’ll have your mum, of course.”

“That’s different,” he insists, shaking his head, and she’s disconcerted to see his eyes shining with what appears to be unshed tears. “I…I want you there, Jemma. I don’t know if…I dunno what I’d do without you there.” He sniffles, quickly looking away, but the light shines just right and she can see the tears that manage to leak out and roll down his cheeks.

Jemma knows that she shouldn’t make promises she can’t keep, but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is making Fitz happy, so she gives his shoulder another gentle squeeze and promises solemnly, “Then I’ll come with you.”

After Jemma had (much to her shame) cried to her parents about making the trip to Scotland with Fitz and his mum, sobbing about how she didn’t want him to be alone, they had caved and bought her a plane ticket to Glasgow. The relief on Fitz’s face when she’d shared the news alone had made the manipulation of her parents entirely worth it.

Now, however, she finds herself sitting uncomfortably in a pew in a church in Glasgow, her eyes darting away from and back to the coffin that held Fitz’s grandmother, Evelyn. Though Jemma is a very logical and educated nine-year-old, she still has never been around anyone that was dead before (though if her career goes the way she plans for it to, she’ll eventually be spending quite a bit of time around the deceased), and it is very…strange.

However, then she feels a hand wrap around hers and squeeze it tight, and Jemma forgets about how uncomfortable she is. She isn’t here for her, she’s here for Fitz.

She turns to him, sitting between her and his mother, and her heart gives a painful throb in her chest when she sees the tears streaming down his cheeks. She isn’t quite sure what to do; all she knows is that she needs to do something to help him. So, without thinking it through, she tucks the sleeve of her brand new black dress down around her free hand and lifts it, wiping clumsily at his tears.

Surprised, Fitz turns to her, sniffling, and when she smiles gently at him, he musters up a watery but grateful smile in return.

For the rest of the service, Jemma dutifully holds Fitz’s hand, offering whatever comfort she can. Though it doesn’t feel like much to her, the gesture seems to mean quite a bit to Fitz, if the way he often squeezes her hand gratefully is any indication.

After the service has finished, they make the short trip to a nearby cemetery, and as their small group (consisting only of Evelyn’s close friends, with Fitz’s mum, Fitz, and Jemma being the only exceptions) stands around a hole in the ground on a grassy hill, Jemma suddenly realizes how quickly the temperature has dropped while they’d been inside the church. In her pretty but thin dress, the breeze ruffling the bare trees is enough to make her shiver, absently wrapping her arms around herself to conserve warmth.

Paying attention as she is to the priest, Jemma doesn’t notice Fitz moving until she is startled by something being laid over her shoulders. Glancing down in confusion, she finds the suit jacket Fitz had complained so heartily to his mother about wearing just that morning.

Turning to Fitz in surprise, she finds him in just his white dress shirt and tie, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his cheeks slightly pink. It makes Jemma very concerned that he is cold as well and he’s just sacrificed his jacket for her, so she makes to take it off.

Fitz is quick to stop her, however, placing a hand over hers and shaking his head. “Keep it,” he whispers, so as not to disturb the priest. “You’re the one wearing a dress, after all.” Strangely, his cheeks seem to grow a darker pink at that, and he hastily looks away, but Jemma just chalks it up to how hard the day must be for him and wraps her hand around his arm, leaning into him and offering her presence as comfort.

It isn’t much longer before the burial is over, and the little group is trooping back to Fitz’s grandmother’s house, where they’re holding a small get-together. Just as Jemma is about to follow them inside, though, Fitz grasps her hand and tugs her away from the front door. She’s confused, but trusts him, allowing him to wordlessly lead them down the road that he seems completely familiar with.

They walk for a bit, dead leaves crunching beneath their nice fancy shoes, before Fitz veers off the path to head down a small sloping hill toward a tiny brick building with a playground out back. It’s not fancy by any means, just a set of swings and a rusted merry-go-round, but Fitz smiles slightly at the sight of it, and she can tell that this is a place he’s quite fond of.

He takes a seat on one of the swings, so Jemma joins him, perching on the one beside him and gently swaying back and forth. She doesn’t ask, but Fitz speaks up to explain anyway, “This is my old school. The one I went to when I lived here. My grandma used to pick me up when my mum was working and take me back to her house. Sometimes we’d bake stuff for her to take to her book club, sometimes she’d make a big show of trying to help me with my homework even though we both knew I didn’t need it, and sometimes she’d let me tinker with the random bits of junk collecting in her basement. She was always really supportive of me wanting to be an engineer.”

“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman,” Jemma murmurs, smiling at the picture Fitz was painting for her of his relationship with his only other living relative. Though she’s known about his grandmother for some time, had known that after Fitz’s father abandoned him and his mother before he was born, his grandmother had stepped up to help her daughter with raising her son, had known that he’d been close with her, she hasn’t heard him speak about her in this kind of detail. It’s…nice, it makes her feel somehow even closer to him – even though she is relatively sure that most best friends aren’t as close as they already are.

“She was,” Fitz agrees with a small nod. “I really miss her.”

“I know,” Jemma sighs, reaching out to find his hand with hers once more. No, she hasn’t had much experience with death, but she doesn’t need to in order to understand Fitz, and she can tell just by looking at him how much the pain of his grandmother’s passing is resting heavily on his shoulders.

Fitz turns to her, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the weak sunlight peering out from behind the clouds, unshed tears standing in his eyes once more. His bottom lip trembles, and he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, there’s a shout of, “Oi, Leopold!”

Immediately, a fearful glance crosses Fitz’s features, and Jemma frowns in concern, twisting around on her swing to try and catch a glance of who had called out to him. Finally, she spots a small group of boys about their age strolling down the hill toward the playground, vicious grins on their childish faces.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, Leopold?” one of them asks with a howling laugh, as though he’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“How much did you pay her, then, Fitzy?” another asks, cackling along with his friend.

“Didn’t think you had enough money for lunch, let alone payin’ a girl to date you,” the first one adds, causing his friends to break into raucous laughter once more.

Fitz grimaces, though he doesn’t drop her hand as he mutters to her, “Ignore them, Jemma.”

She wants to do anything but ignore the boys she assumes are the schoolyard bullies Fitz had mentioned once or twice before. She understands – she too had been mocked and treated differently for her intelligence that went far and beyond that of her peers, but that doesn’t mean it is even remotely okay for these boys to say such things to Fitz, especially on a day like today.

So, Jemma ignores Fitz’s request instead, standing swiftly from her seat on the swing and stalking over to the boys. As she plants her hands on her hips and scowls up at them, she hears Fitz yelp her name behind her, hears his shoes crunching on the asphalt as he hurries to her side. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I can assure you that Fitz is a thousand times the person any one of you are. You’re all just jealous that he’s a genius and he’s kind and sweet and funny and everything you boys could only ever hope to be. If I ever hear you speak to him like this again, you’ll regret it.”

The boys exchange glances, their eyebrows high on their foreheads, but it’s only a moment before they break into incredulous laughter. “Look at this little English bitch thinking she’s all that,” the one that seems to be the leader says, and Jemma has to fight the urge to flinch. It’s the first time anyone has ever called her something so vile, and she has to admit that it hurts more than she’d thought it would. “Go back home to England and your mummy and daddy before we tear that pretty dress of yours.”

Given that Fitz hadn’t seemed bothered by anything they’d said about him, Jemma is left completely shocked when he suddenly lunges at the boy, shoving him roughly as he snaps, “Don’t you dare talk to her like that!”

Things happen quickly after that, everyone moving at once as the boys gang up on Fitz, and suddenly everyone’s throwing punches or swinging kicks, and Jemma’s shouting at them to stop but they’re not listening. In a flash of inspiration, she remembers something her brother had once told her to do if she ever found herself in a situation where she was being threatened by a man. Though she isn’t really the one in trouble, she figures that if there is ever going to be a situation where his advice is relevant, it’s this one, so she takes a deep breath and brings her knee back.

The leader is beating on Fitz mercilessly, but when Jemma’s knee swings up and connects between his legs with an audible crack, he drops like a rock, howling in pain and cupping the affected area. The boy’s friends freeze, turning to gape from their leader to Jemma in disbelief, and even Fitz is staring up at her in shock. She nods in self-satisfaction, crossing her arms over her chest, and she asks the other boys daringly, “Anyone else want to try and hurt my friend?”

The boys instantly back away, holding their hands up in surrender and rapidly shaking their heads.

Smirking, Jemma nods toward the hill leading away from the playground. “Go home to your mummies and daddies. I never want to see your faces again.”

Hastily, they help up their injured friend, and make a break for it, though they aren’t moving as quickly as they’d clearly like to be, their friend limping along with him and complaining constantly. To herself, Jemma can’t help but think, who’s the little bitch now?

Once they’re out of sight, she turns to Fitz, gently dropping to her knees beside him on the ground. “Are you alright?” she asks softly, gently brushing her fingertips over the bruises she can see that are already starting to form on his cheeks.

For a long moment, Fitz continues to gaze up at her in shock, his mouth hanging open. Then, quite suddenly, he surges upward and then his lips are pressed against hers. His move is a bit too quick, their jaws bump against each other, and both of their mouths are tense and it’s quite uncomfortable. But, then he’s pulling away just as quickly, his face a brilliant shade of red, and Jemma feels something like a hoard of butterflies take wing in her stomach.

“Oh,” she whispers, her own cheeks beginning to burn with an embarrassed but ultimately…pleased warmth.

In response, Fitz gives her a shy smile, and Jemma unexpectedly finds that she has a whole new reason to be grateful that she’d made the trip to Glasgow with him.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #shayna's one shot collection #childhood au #tw: death #just in case #i actually wrote this one after attending my first funeral #and maybe it's just me but this fic just feels so vivid #because of writing it after that experience #idk i'm probably talking nonsense #i just really feel protective of this one #i was hesitant for a long time to post it #but here it is

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laurlovescookies · 7 years

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The Aquitaine Princess

Tribute and follow-up ficlet to sparklight’s chapter forty in her marvelous “In Which Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Escape” series. (Fiercely-protective Mommy Vader wasn’t something I understood I desperately needed until I encountered it! And I love genderbent “Luca” as well. ^_^)

If you’re wondering about the title, it’s a reference to a beautiful French poem known as El Deschidado, which references an “Aquitaine prince with a destroyed tower.” Technically Luca would be a princess (though I’m not certain how comfortable she’d be with the title), hence the change.

Trigger warning for a panic attack. I don’t feel Luca is any less badass than Luke, but you’ve got to keep in mind that the poor kid’s in a seriously traumatizing situation. (Let’s hope there are some Imperial therapists available in the ranks.)

L & V are being a bit more emotional than normal, mainly because I think genderbent Luke and Vader might be a little more in-tune with their emotions (albeit Vader a smidgen more so.)

Thanks again to the very-excellent sparklight, whom is an angel, saint, and a bag of chips!

I am the Dark One, – the Widower, – the Unconsoled The Aquitaine Prince whose Tower is destroyed: My only star is dead,- and my constellated lute Bears the black Sun of Melancholia.

In the night of the Tomb, You who comforted me, Give me back Mount Posillipo and the Italian sea, The flower that my afflicted heart liked so much And the treillised vineyard where the grapevine unites with the rose.

—Excerpt from El Deschidado

-O-

"... what do you want?" Luca asked, quiet and shamefully soft, even as her back was almost painfully stiff. The hand around her wrist tightened, making the metal of the cuff dig in a little, and the other gloved hand finally rose up, not quite touching her cheek.

Foreboding gathered in her gut as she watched those starkly yellow eyes wash out into bright blue again, watched the harsh twist to Vader's mouth soften a shade.

"My daughter."

-O-

Luca had flinched at that. Partially because her stomach had rolled sickeningly and she had to take deep, shuddering breaths to keep the remaining contents of her stomach from heaving their way up. She braced a glistening palm against the wall, nearly slipping.

The hand poised over her face slowly fell. She wondered wordlessly why Vader bothered if she couldn’t actually bring herself to touch her affectionately, but the hand had hesitantly reached for Luca, as if of its own accord.

Dimly, Luca felt the writhing flare—something like a supernova—of Vader’s wintry force presence hardening, crackling as it rapidly frosted over into a pernicious arctic armor. And suddenly it seemed to be much farther away, as if Luca were looking at it through the wrong end of binoculars, though Vader’s hand still clutched her wrist so tightly she was rapidly losing feeling in it.

Luca immediately felt a hot rush of shame as she gazed up at over-bright eyes, starkly-blue embers hovering in the dark, unblinkingly watching her. Did Vader sense her revulsion?

Her next thought stepped on her question mark: Why should she care if she hurt Vader’s feelings? Insanity, it seemed was catching.

Or genetic.

Her free hand drew itself into a shaking fist, nails sinking in her palm. Uncle Owen had lied about her mother, and while she could maybe, albeit begrudgingly, understand why he had, she couldn’t help resenting him even if the feeling came with a maelstrom of guilt.

And when he and Beru had been murdered, the only person whom saved her from being crippled with grief was Ben, whom gave her what she’d wanted her whole life: The knowledge that she was meant to do something special—albeit more so than she ever could’ve guessed—and that her mother had been, too. She bit the inside of her mouth hard, and something metallic and hot flooded her mouth. Vader snapped something she heard, but didn’t understand.

Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi knight, a paradigm of strength and goodness, whom also had her life cut short by Vader. If Luca hadn’t already wanted vengeance for Beru and Owen, now it became a purpose, which had been the only thing sustaining her all this time, her friends aside. A lump rose from her chest and lodged itself in her throat.

Her grief for her mother had vapidly skyrocketed, something she hadn’t even thought possible. But Vader wasn’t anything she anticipated, the demon she’d needed him to be, and she felt pity for him—her—before Luca remembered and her contempt washed it away.

But Vader was her mother, there was no use in not accepting it, the force had no feelings and resonated the affirmation over and over again—

“Young one.”

Vader was urgently saying something else, her hand still bracing Luca’s back. Luca stared blankly at Vader’s rapidly-yellowing eyes.

Ben had to have known Darth Vader was her mother and he’d lied, just like everyone else in the galaxy so desperate to turn her into a pawn, he’d lied when Luca had no one and nothing left, not even a home. Ben wanted her to kill her mother—she shrank back from the thought as if burned, it felt traitorous. But it was true.

Now she could never trust even Ben’s memory ever again. The only person she could understand innately wasn’t lying was her mother. Her mother was alive, the sweetest and most secret hope Luca had ever cherished, but it’d devolved into a nightmare. Vader was a genocidal and vicious maniac. Nothing short of evil.

Luca probably imagined the faint tremor in Vader’s hand still clutching her wrist. Vader, whom for all Luca’s training, for all her giving everything and then some, had stolen her away as easily like a cat would a kitten, regardless of her struggles.

She let out a noise that came out both a strangled laugh and a sob. Vader was the only person whom she could innately understand wasn’t lying, and yet she in all likelihood wanted to use Luca too, her own child. Both Obi-Won and Anakin Skywalker died second deaths in that moment.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale, exhale, exhale—

Her lungs plunged rapidly for air, seeming to end only at the base of her neck, not drawing nearly enough oxygen, regardless of how much she gulped for it.

Her mother’s hands grasped her shoulders as Luca’s vision blurred orange, bled red. Her mind churned in a near-indecipherable blur of terror and hysteria. Her ears rang and someone must’ve been screaming while her throat burned as if it were filling up with blood. She thrashed hopelessly in Vader’s hold, too panicked to care that there was no escape on the ship, that her wrist at this point had become a distant, stinging star of pain as the manacle dug into her skin. Why not, why not, what did it matter she didn’t care nothing mattered anymore—

“ENOUGH!”

Vader’s ear-splitting roar sliced through the air and the force; Luca’s eyes widened, freezing as Vader seized her in a too-tight hold, pinning both her arms to her sides. Still Luca struggled, and in Vader’s now-palpable concern, her icy barriers thawed and Vader’s force presence rushed to meet hers. Luca fell limp at that, and if Vader hadn’t been clutching her upright she would’ve certainly tumbled to the floor.

At first it was worse, because Vader’s mercurial force presence loomed like an enormous, blackish-red tidal wave over Luca’s, reaching for her like so many hands. Barriers flew up in Luca’s mind as she frantically retreated deeper into herself, but Vader had been using the force longer than Luca had been alive, and when she pursued the blockades were carelessly knocked aside.

A second later Vader’s mind immobilized her own in a perfectly-implacable grip, rippling with furious dark energy—the first icy jolt upon being badly burned. Luca would’ve cried out if she could’ve, bracing herself for a certain mental assault and the agony certain to go with it.

Something tentatively—tentatively?—and gently brushed against Luca’s petrified subconscious, the lightest of touches. Stunned, Luca tried to speak, but a cool energy glided over her feverish and distressed thoughts, plunging them into white background noise.

Shaking like mad, her head tilted and fell against Vader’s armor-clad shoulder.

There was a quiet hum coming from the gentle energy flowing into her. It did not quite make her calm, her heart was beating too quickly for that—but it hushed the frantic, blind energy that would’ve sent her battering herself against the ship walls. Luca’s eyes slipped shut. It wasn’t quite unlike the time she’d been slipped inside a bacta tank.

Another light caress, albeit still uncertainly so, as if Vader were frightened of her, which was absurd to the point of being hilarious. Vader’s force presence was infinitely larger than Luca’s, could’ve crushed hers into dust. But while the idea was baffling, it felt like Vader’s mind was actually cradling hers.

More likely, Luca had somehow sustained head trauma when she’d been electrocuted earlier.

Her breathing was still shuddery, but slower and deeper. Awareness returning, Luca sharply inhaled as she sensed a ring surrounding her, comprised of a black, thrashing maw of blazing toxic energy.

Alarmed, wishing desperately for hers—Vader’s—saber, Luca was shocked by the sheer fury and hatred these flames emitted, something she could dimly understand had been kindled by raw despair.

This force energy jabbed violently out, like so many knives and so much broken glass and while Luca had once scoffed at the word bloodcurdling, she could not do so now. Approaching them would be suicidal. She redoubled her efforts to be free, and Vader had only tightened her mental grip the way she had Luca’s wrist.

While unharmed by the barrier, Luca desperately wanted to shy away; the flames were comprised from malevolence, lashing out and seeking so many targets; possibly the whole galaxy. And yet, oddly enough, not at the girl they surrounded.

But the force defense was more than pure anger; there was a staggering amount of possession and protection radiating off them in waves, something near-feral in intensity and if Vader meant to harm her all along (though Luca didn’t think so) why couldn’t she get it over with?

Young one.

Vader’s voice within the force struck a rich, deep alto. No rasping, no staccato breathing, no intermittent noises from her support. Luca’s eyes flew open, startled.

You are safe.

The voice began hissing the beautiful words over and over again, and the comforting cool energy coming from Vader increased, lulling. Eyes flickering once again, Luca sagged in the gloved hold, fighting to stay conscious.

Her brow furrowed, bewildered as to why this seemed dimly familiar.

-O-

Sometimes when Luca slept she remembered something, or at least upon waking she dimly remembered recalling something, from a very, very long time ago. Before she’d been born.

In a night without stars, she was a nebulous being whom didn’t think in words. Her nascent mind wandered, eventually approaching a much larger presence than her own self.

Innately she understood without understanding how whom it was, and brushed against it curiously. At first it started in blinding-white-shock, iron-defenses shooting up before they crumbled into an intense tenderness, something tremulous. It recognized her.

The awestricken luminosity softly pressed back, with something akin to playfulness. It’d wrapped around her so tenderly and tightly she’d been happy, a profound sense of contentment and rightfulness stealing over her in their burgeoning force connection. The other used it to send peaceful waves passing over her, both of them basking in mutual adoration.

That had been the first time Luca’s consciousness encountered Anakin Skywalker’s, but it hadn’t been the last.

-O-

When Luca came back to herself, there were tears streaming silently down her face. Vader held her in a not-quite an embrace, pinning her arms, which was it was confining as much as it was comforting.

At last by unspoken agreement Luca tugged back and Vader slowly released her. The former turned to look determinedly at the wall while rubbing her face.

And she prayed that Vader couldn’t understand that her earlier revulsion was not least because a little girl from trillions and trillions of light-years miles away (but not far enough) had looked up at the dark lord’s words, was scrubbing her dirty face and scrambling to her feet, staring expectantly at the sky.

The silence between them was every part as uncomfortable as the shouting. Luca’s face burned and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back.

However dire the situation, it was the most profoundly awkward one Luca had ever encountered. Vader seemed to feel the same, considering just how quiet she was, save for the intermittent breathing on the oxygenator.

It was childish, but Luca couldn’t help but reach out with the force towards Vader again, and for her credit was firmly pushed away. The latter’s force presence was rapidly resealing itself in its fortress.

“Will you be still now?” Vader said at last, sounding as weary as Luca felt. “Can I trust you not to harm yourself?”

Luca just nodded wearily, still wiping her eyes. Thankfully Vader didn’t see, or pretended not to. The two remained chained together, though both were looking in opposite directions of the dilapidated old ship, lost in her own thoughts.

Anakin Skywalker was still alive. Anakin Skywalker was still alive.

She mopped her face once again, took a few deep breaths.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, not quite trusting her voice.

“My ship.” said Vader shortly, after only a moment’s hesitation. The woman’s eyes remained fixated on the windows ahead, reflecting her ruined face stricken of any color, so badly burnt that hair refused to grow. “You’ll be interned in quarters there.”

Luca felt a sharp spike of irritation. Exactly how well had Vader thought this plan through before kidnapping her? “And what, you’re going to lock me up forever, is that it?”

“Don’t tempt me,” snarled Vader, pulling at their chain. “As it stands, the idea of having you handcuffed to my person at all times has its merits.”

Luca went very hot and then very cold at that, because Vader wasn’t someone whose bluff you wanted to call.

“Please,” she tried again, her voice again reaching that painfully soft and embarrassing register. “You can’t just—“

Vader spun on her heel to face her, bluing eyes flashing.

“I can. You are safe with me, not at the beck and call of a ragtag, hypocritical army of anarchists whom will step on your throat the moment you become a liability.”

“The Alliance would never—“

“Yes, because they clearly had ‘Miss Vader’s kid’s,’ best interests at heart,” Vader scoffed, and Luca nearly had the heart knocked out of her.

It would’ve been one thing if Vader kept shouting lies in her ears—annoying, but bearable because she knew otherwise. But the moment Luca discovered her parentage the soldiers had closed in on her—

They wouldn’t have hurt me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.

“No, you did not. But your innocence would not save you; you were culpable in being born my child.”

It sounded so awful spoken aloud, given shape. Luca had to count to ten to avoid screaming.

“I can’t turn. I can’t be like you. You have to let me go.”

“I have to do no such thing. What I must do is my obligation, which is to keep you from harm.”

Surprise flitted on Luca’s face and her breath caught. Vader pointedly looked away, her force presence growing positively polar, an icy warning to keep a safe distance.

It was a very strange dance. When Luca stepped forward, Vader stepped back, and however much Luca had tried denying her parentage, Darth Vader had only told her the truth over and over again.

Too exhausted to argue anymore, and knowing it was useless in any case, Luca sank to a sitting position again and closed her eyes, so emotionally drained she could scarcely move.

Vader had stolen yet another thing from her. She couldn’t imagine harming her now.

-O-

Sometimes when Luca was small, she woke up crying in the middle of the night. Aunt Beru would come in and rub her back, assuring her that her nightmares were only ever just nightmares.

And she did have dreams of black, white-eyed creatures dragging her away and eating her (she couldn’t scream, because they’d eat that too), but sometimes she didn’t dream at all, but only woke up crying from a fissure so horribly hollow and hurting it made her worry she might never stop.

-O-

When Luca came to, she awoke wrapped in a black cape, as whomever was carrying her marched across a white bridge. A docking chamber.

Suddenly remembering and returning to hell, she warily turned to gaze up at Vader—whom by now had her unholy black mask restored, eyes shrouded in black. What color were they now, and what was she thinking?

Luca wearily shoved at Vader’s front so as to least have some decency in walking, but she might as well as pushed a wall for all the reaction Vader gave.

Luca pressed a hand against her eyes and was annoyed when it came back wet; she’d been crying from the old place again, the one with bits of her that had never grown up, not really. She hid her face upon wondering what the imperial soldiers must’ve thought, to have seen the dark lord carrying a girl draped in her cloak and crying as if her heart were on the verge of stopping.

Vader had turned grief into murderous, destructive power. Luca could only let it turn into pain and something tenderer, infinitely more vulnerable. Maybe that was why Vader turned—sheer fear of being torn apart by this raw emotion.

She sulked, hating the fact that she couldn’t hate Vader, despite the enormity of her actions. The woman had razed entire civilizations and now Luca needed her and that thought was so disturbing so she feebly tried pushing against Vader again, wriggling in her hold and knowing the futility.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You can and must. At my side, you will be a princess.”

Luca’s mind wiped itself blank, faintly hearing Biggs laughing. “I’m not a princess. I have it on good authority I am the opposite of a princess. A princess told me that.”

“You were one before you were born, child. It is your birthright.”

“Please. My friends will come for me in any case.”

This was something Luca did and desperately did not want, for Han, Leia, Threepio, Artoo and Chewie to appear. They’d be in mortal danger, and yet Luca was already missing them.

“I will kill Palpatine for what he did,” said Vader coldly as they stepped into yet another long white hallway. “He told me you had died, and so I’ll burn him from existence. Here is another lesson, child. I’ll destroy anyone whom tries taking you from me.”

Luca’s jaw dropped, and despite the cloak draped around her went cold.

…..oh. Um.

Escaping was going to be an ordeal.

#In Which Our Fearless Hero Doesn't Escape #sparklight #awkward elevator music

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gastricpierrot · 7 years

Text

Title: When Stars Align

Series: Daiya no Ace

Pairing: KuraRyou

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing good ever comes out of an intimate relationship between a human and a youkai, Ryousuke knows. He’s heard more than enough stories on betrayal, on disasters, on families being shunned. And being an onmyouji, he knows better than anyone else.

And yet, he lets himself fall.

Warning: im late as hell wowzah

Also on AO3

[Ch.1][Ch.2]

[Ch. 3]

The first time Youichi sees Ryousuke performing an exorcism, he can’t help but wonder what sort of experience he’s gone through to reach that level.

Ryousuke being a ridiculously strong onmyouji is a fact Youichi has never doubted since the day he met him. The only thing is that knowing a fact and seeing for himself why it is so are two different matters. It takes conscious effort for Youichi to keep his mouth close as he watches Ryousuke banish the rampaging reiki trying to break through their barriers. Ryousuke has the youkai sealed and writhing within a circle of harsh light, his composure unruffled and his chants fluent despite the weight of those giant fists beating against his spell. The reiki emits so much malice and hatred that even Youichi finds himself on edge, expecting it to overpower Ryousuke’s spell any moment now.

Fortunately, Ryousuke swiftly finishes the job before that can happen.

An eerie silence settles around them the moment the last of the youkai’s screams fade away; it’s not a summer night if there are no cries of cicadas or crickets this distance away from civilization. Youichi resumes breathing only when Ryousuke moves and breaks the stillness in the air as though resuming the flow of time itself. Ryousuke raises his eyebrows slightly when he sees Youichi.

“Oh. You’re here,” he says as he brushes dust off his robes. For a moment, Youichi could only nod wordlessly. Despite how he seemed, exorcising that reiki must’ve taken a monstrous level of focus. Ryousuke would usually never miss a presence so close to himself, much less one as profound as Youichi’s. Youichi senses something else that’s not quite the usual too, but he can’t seem to figure out what that is.

“I was nearby and I felt a strong one facing you,” Youichi says, to which Ryousuke only hums to as a response. Huh. Youichi’s actually expected to receive a sarcastic remark or two about him not asking, so the lacklustre answer felt a tad bit anti-climactic.

It only clicks in when Ryousuke moves to close the distance between them. Youichi spots the barely visible tension in the onmyouji’s shoulders; the way strands of his short hair cling to the skin of his temples and forehead with sweat. He doesn’t know if Ryousuke’s even consciously trying not to show his tiredness at this point, but wow. Either his fatigue has been building up all this while, or that reiki took quite some out of him.

“Ryou-san,” Youichi starts to say before he can think things through. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Why ask?” Ryousuke inquires in return, not halting in his steps even as he walks past Youichi. Youichi thinks he hear him stifling a yawn behind him.

“You seem tired,” he blurts, instinctively tensing up when Ryousuke’s footsteps stop.

“It’s a few hours until sunrise and I’ve just exorcised an oni,” he says and Youichi swears he sounds unnecessarily defensive again. He notices how Ryousuke seems to have a thing against having his wellbeing questioned; it’d happened the last time on his mountain as well. Youichi’s chalked it up to a by-product of his ego all this while, but he has to admit there are times when he wonders if that’s really the case. “Contrary to what you might believe, even I need some sleep, Youichi.”

“I can give you a lift home, if you want?” Youichi offers half-jokingly with a flap of his wings. He winces when he’s reminded of the injury on his left wing where the youkai he faced earlier had clawed at him in the air. It could just be his imagination, but Ryousuke’s smile seems to soften by a tiny fraction.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to owe you any favours,” Ryousuke tells him, resuming his steady trudge towards the direction of his home. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Well if you say so,” Youichi mutters, knowing full well Ryousuke can’t hear him. He stays a few minutes more to survey the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the nagging feeling in his gut. He can’t tell if there are traces of malice left around that’s giving him bad vibes, or if it’s just the general knowledge of knowing something terrible is about to happen that’s throwing him off so badly. Youichi’s been noticing it too; how there seems to be a sharp increase in number of youkai that’s trying to either terrorize the village or steal power from his mountain. It’s been a little more than a month since Youichi took over from Tetsu and it’s not until recently that he finds Ryousuke and himself facing more and more high level youkai that normally should not be in these parts, let alone be as powerful as they are. Something’s obviously stirring, but what? What’s going to happen? What’s already happening?

A movement by his feet catches his eye, and Youichi’s sword is already drawn and stabbing towards the ground before his brain can fully process what it is. He hears a faint hiss of fury as the will o’ wisp fades to nothing; the last remnant of the reiki dissipating before it has the chance to fully regenerate. Youichi sheathes his sword, frowning. He’d enjoy the challenge of facing such strong opponents under normal circumstances, but his sense of responsibilities as a guardian does not allow him to be so carefree. Besides, there’s more to it than just Youichi wanting to do his job well. It’s the same for all subjects of worship—the moment he stepped into Tetsu’s shoes, his own life force has been woven together with that of those whom he’s supposed to watch over. Whether he likes it or not, Youichi depends on the villagers to exist as much as they depend on him to protect them from ravaging monsters. If the village were to be wiped out one day, Youichi too, will cease to exist. It doesn’t seem to be much of a fair exchange, but that’s just how it is.

Youichi keeps mulling over his unease even as he returns to his mountain, so much so that he almost flies right past the unusually large gathering of youkai by the waterfalls. Still rather high-strung with nerves from his earlier thoughts, he makes an abrupt stop, hovering in the air as he contemplates whether to find out whatever’s the matter. They could just be having a get-together like some other youkai communities that are fond of partying and socializing. The ones in his mountain are pretty chummy with one another despite their differences. But having fun would mean there’d be shouting and yelling and fooling around. The only noise Youichi can discern from this group is the hum of fervent murmuring among the youkai.

“What’s going on?” he finally decides to join them and ask. Heads turn towards him at the sound of his voice; Youichi doesn’t like those nervous faces.

“Good work again tonight, Youichi-sama,” the nearest youkai, an okuri inu, dips its head in greeting. Others shortly follow its lead, muttering assent.

“Well?” Youichi prompts when the only response he receives for his inquiry is silence. The gathered youkai glance around anxiously, each trying to have another explain the situation. With the way he’s kept in suspense, Youichi half expects it to turn out to be something absolutely unrelated to his concerns, possibly even something painfully insignificant compared to the scale of Ryousuke’s predicted calamity.

Until someone finally finds the courage to tell him.

And it’s…bad. It’s really, really bad and Youichi’s immediate thought is does Ryou-san know this? But hold on—it’s still just a rumour. However fast word has travelled, it has also travelled far. Youichi knows from experience how easy it is for details to be distorted and lost when passed along verbally from one to another. Words of youkai are especially prone to that; their love for mischief is well known. Youichi can’t fully trust what he’s told until he receives news from more credible sources.

But if it really is true…Youichi dreads just to think about it. He’s only heard of her in stories, in tales documenting her power, her cunningness, her sheer evil. In all of them, she was always only missing. She was never reported to have died, no matter how much time passes.

If the rumours are true, there’s going to be a huge problem.

xXx

Unsurprisingly, it rains on the night the Hyakki Yagyō passes the village.

On the bright side, it helps ward off a bit of the stifling summer heat. On the not-so bright side, the Parade can get obnoxiously rowdy and there’s nothing Ryousuke can do about it.

A good majority of youkai are playful in nature, and would probably never pass up the chance to party. It’s especially so in the case of the local youkai in Ryousuke’s village; he’s been keeping them under such firm restraint all this while, after all. They’d no doubt want to let loose with some of their kin when given the chance. Ryousuke only hopes he won’t have to go around hunting for missing people again the next day. No matter how many years it’s been happening, not everyone seems to understand that even he doesn’t have the power to bring back people who’s been spirited away by the Parade.

Ryousuke flips to the next page of his book, doing his best to filter out the commotion and only focus on the steady patter of rain against the roof. It’s well into the night, but it’s impossible to sleep with all that hollering and yowling and growling and whatever variety of noises youkai apparently make. He glances a little enviously at Haruichi and Eijun curled against each other on a spot to his left, blissfully oblivious to the din thanks to a handy spell and innate ignorance. Haruichi always did find more comfort by being near Ryousuke on nights of the Hyakki Yagyō. He’s probably skilled enough now to ward off relatively strong youkai on his own, but Ryousuke supposes it’s something that’s been ingrained in him when he was young. While Haruichi is born with strong spiritual power, Ryousuke isn’t born a skilled onmyouji.

Ryousuke huffs. He’d love to cast the spell to temporarily turn off his hearing as well, if it isn’t for the fact that he has to be ready in case of any emergencies. Besides, he’s hoping to expect some visitors. No, not the intruding youkai he’s consistently been working to ward off for the past week or so; he’s sure the Nurarihyon has that under control for the night. Ryousuke hasn’t actually met them face to face before, but from what he’s heard, the current Nurarihyon has—at the very least—a sense of moderation. Even though it’s mostly anything goes during the Parade, they’d probably refuse to tolerate anything excessive such as say, a violent attempt to take the local source of spiritual power.

Or, at least Ryousuke really hopes they would.

By the time there’s only a few hours left till sunrise, his ears have somehow eventually tuned themselves out to cope with the noise. Ryousuke snaps back into attention when he abruptly registers the dramatic drop in temperature around him, his gaze immediately drawn to the subtly glowing figure seated across him that’s appeared out of thin air. His visitor nods at him in greeting, lips set in a slight, but amiable smile.

“Good evening.”

Ryousuke allows himself a split-second to calm the spike in his heartbeat. “Well. Fancy meeting you tonight,” he returns with a wry smile of his own, feeling tension creep into his muscles despite the familiar face. He didn’t think he of all youkai would show up. He closes his book, setting it down by his foot. “I didn’t take you for someone who’d want to hang around with the Parade, Yuu-sama.”

“It’s not too difficult to bear in small doses,” Yuu reasons as he clasps his hands loosely together on his lap. “Maybe it’ll be nice if you could let loose a little once in a while like them too, Ryousuke.”

“Drinking to the point of losing consciousness and being a nuisance isn’t exactly my idea of letting loose.” Ryousuke’s fingers twitch when a particularly loud shriek of laughter cuts through the air. He forces back the urge to take a deep breath. “But enough with the small talk. Since you’ve appeared before me, I gather you have something to tell?”

Ryousuke finds himself holding his breath when Yuu’s smile fades, a shadow of graveness taking its place. Faint outline of light around the pseudo-god flickers as he glances at the two sleeping figures nearby.

“Ryousuke,” Yuu begins, looking up to meet his eyes once more. “There’s a kitsune in the Capital, hiding in the Imperial Palace.”

“And…?” Ryousuke prompts when he stops there, hearing the unvoiced continuation to his statement. There’s no way he would come all this way just to tell him about a common fox spirit. He makes conscious effort to uncurl his fingers from the fabric of his pants, bracing himself for the bombshell.

Yuu’s expression remains scarily passive as he says, “It’s her.”

Ryousuke feels his heart take an involuntary dive down his stomach before he even finishes.

He takes a sharp breath to reign his thoughts in before they could scatter. Sure, he’s been prepared to even hear of news regarding visits from a tatarigami, but to think that it’s the nine-tailed fox herself. She’s one of the few youkai who has the ability to trigger a chain of disasters if she wishes and isn’t afraid to use it, which is what makes her as dangerous as any other harbinger of calamity. What’s worse—she doesn’t seem to be vulnerable to death, having a ridiculously long life even in youkai years. Knowing they’re going against a possibly immortal being won’t exactly be the best morale booster.

Plus, her being a fox puts Ryousuke personally at jeopardy, too.

“It may be wise for you to sit this one out if you’re called, Ryousuke,” Yuu advises knowingly. Ryousuke’s better judgement agrees with him. Every single thing about this twist in events screams bad news for him. Getting involved would only spell deep trouble for him. It’d be best for him to keep his distance.

The only thing is that Ryousuke rarely does listen to that one inside voice when it comes to performing his duties. He’s spent so many years training to hell and back, pushed himself way past his limits in order to obtain the level of restraint and control he has now. There are risks, sure, but it’s not like being an onmyouji in general is free of them. Ryousuke’s never let risks hold him back from anything, and he doesn’t plan to start now. If anything, he looks forward to being able to sneer at the small, hesitating part of himself after he proves it wrong once again.

Even when there is a possibility of him dying in the process.

“And what would you like in return for giving me this information?” He chooses to skirt around the topic nonetheless, deciding to address a more immediate concern at the moment. Being a youkai famous for his wisdom, Yuu’s also notoriously known for the high prices he demands in return for his services. Despite them being on fairly good terms after that one time Ryousuke helped him with a favour, it’s difficult to tell what sort of compensation he might ask for this time.

“I told you what I told you because I consider you a friend, and because I know you,” Yuu says, a tiny smile once again tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just some tea would do nicely.”

“Alright.” Ryousuke stands, not at all inclined to question his leniency. He silently thanks him for not giving him one more thing to stress over. “I must tell you beforehand, though—I don’t exactly make the best tea around.”

xXx

True enough, a messenger shikigami is sent to summon Ryousuke to the Capital city two days later.

He’s to leave immediately to aid in performing a legendary holy ritual to smoke out the fox—who, according to Yuu, is currently an attendant in the palace going by the name of Tamamo no Mae. Ryousuke feels his palms dampen as he goes over the letter again to make sure he isn’t missing any details. He wills his stomach to stop doing flips on its own accord. He’ll be fine. He knows he’ll be.

He can’t not be. Not this time, not ever again.

“Aniki, is it true that— “Haruichi trails off the moment he steps in and sees Ryousuke staring disquietedly at the piece of parchment in his hands. Ryousuke takes a breath, spending a few seconds to erase all possible traces of anxiety from his expression before turning to face him. He shouldn’t make Haruichi worry more than he already will.

“Looks like I’ll have to set off to the Capital tomorrow morning,” he says, inwardly relieved that he’s managed to sound as nonchalant as he’s trying to be. Haruichi’s eyes widen, his shoulders tensing.

“So it’s real…?”

“I’m guessing you’ve been seeing some things yourself?” Haruichi couldn’t have heard his conversation with Yuu the other night; Yuu’s voice could only be heard by the people he wants to be heard by. “But yes—there seems to be a fox hiding in the Imperial Palace and they’re trying to flush it out.”

“Wouldn’t it be risky for you to go?” There’s a chance that it might act up and—“

He’s interrupted by a firm shake of Ryousuke’s head, everything else left unsaid spoken through his worried gaze alone. “It’s risky even if I don’t go, Haruichi,” Ryousuke reasons, idly folding the letter in halves until its limit. He glances at the sliding door across where they stood. “And there’s no use hiding, Eijun. I know you’re there.”

A few seconds pass before the door moves to leave a gap just enough for Eijun to peek in cautiously.

“I wish to apologize for my insolence but I swear I was only passing by when curiosity overwhelmed me and I promise you I only heard the last parts about— “Ryousuke tells him to go in before he launches himself into a full-length speech that could’ve lasted anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. It’s difficult to tell when it comes to Eijun. Fortunately for him, Ryousuke has got worse things to worry over than being eavesdropped by him.

“Onii-san’s going to the Capital again?” Eijun asks once he’s safely half-hidden behind Haruichi. When Ryousuke nods affirmative, he squares his shoulders, and adds with a thump of his fist against his chest, “In that case, leave it to me to take care of Harucchi!”

“Just try not to cause too much trouble for him, alright?” Ryousuke says, to which Eijun responds enthusiastically without getting the implication. Sadly, Haruichi’s way sharper than that, and easily sees through his subtle attempt to divert the topic of conversation.

“Aniki,” he persists, “you should really think it over.”

“There’s nothing left to think over at this point,” Ryousuke quips, clasping his hands behind his back and moving to leave. Just as Haruichi opens his mouth to argue further, he adds, “I’ll have to start preparing for tomorrow now, so I’ll be leaving for a bit.”

“Aniki— “

He slides the door shut behind him; a little harsh, but necessary, he supposes. He doesn’t need to waver more than he already has. Ryousuke’s done being wary of the suppressed power within himself years ago; he’s not going to let it bother him now.

He refuses to let it bother him now.

xXx

Of all things, Youichi would never have expected to be greeted by the Nurarihyon himself during the night of the Parade.

He’s not gonna lie; he’s pretty relieved he hadn’t been drunk out of his mind when the youkai leader approached him to exchange a few words of greeting. Don’t get him wrong, Youichi loves sake just as much as any other tengu and there’d even been times when he discovered he’d passed out for three whole days after some particularly…wild nights. It’s just that it’s pretty hard to be drinking without a care in the world after being told the Nine-tailed Fox herself is in the country again.

And just when Youichi’s beginning to successfully convince himself to stop being a wuss and calm the heck down because those are still rumours and surely it’s not as bad as his childhood fear is influencing him to think it is, Ryousuke appears at his shrine smack in the middle of the afternoon—which he never does. As if that doesn’t set off enough alarm bells and weird Youichi out enough as it does, Ryousuke’s apparently there to pray.

Youichi wonders if it’ll start snowing tomorrow.

“Is there a problem?” Ryousuke asks with a raised eyebrow, no doubt seeing the strange looks Youichi’s giving him. Youichi could only gesture vaguely as his immediate response.

“I don’t know—I just didn’t think you were the type— “to what? Pray? Even though he’s an onmyouji and a good part of his job requires him to do nothing but chant sutras for hours on end? Youichi abruptly realizes how ridiculous he’s about to sound. In his defence, to him Ryousuke has always been the sort who would rather rely on his own abilities than to seek help from anyone in general, let alone from deities. Even though he has agreed to let him join him in kicking some youkai butt lately, Youichi knows it’s only because of his physical limitations. Ryousuke’s agreed to let him help because he’s aware he could only be at so many places at once. But prayers—that involves more of a mental boost, if Youichi could word it any better. Humans know their prayers aren’t always necessarily heard nor granted, yet they keep doing it anyway because it helps give them a peace of heart, a bit of hope to hold on to. A bit of extra mental strength.

Needless to say, Youichi expected Ryousuke to have the mental strength with a solidness of a block of steel, hence his surprise.

“Sorry,” Youichi finds himself apologizing in the end, scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly. It’s probably best for him not to judge people’s reasons, even if it’s Ryousuke.

“You’re a strange one,” Ryousuke comments, his ever-present smile difficult to read as usual. He moves to sit under the shade of Youichi’s shrine, reaching into his robe before producing his bamboo flute. He holds the instrument up towards Youichi. “Would you accept a song as an offering?”

“Depends on how well you play it, I guess.” Youichi couldn’t help being snarky despite having heard Ryousuke’s playing enough to guess that even his worst would likely sound just fine. Ryousuke doesn’t seem at all affected by his pathetic attempt to be mischievous, though. Saying nothing more, he lifts his fue to his lips, blows a few experimental notes, and plays.

Ryousuke’s songs always have a haunting quality to it; the slow, long notes echoing deep into the mountain forests like the calls of mythical animals or songs of the dead. They’re beautiful, sure, but Youichi sometimes finds goosebumps rising across his skin when listening to them as well. He’s always got this irrational concern that something strange might be summoned by Ryousuke’s tune any moment (he’s a youkai himself, he knows and it’s embarrassing enough as it is). While the other mountain youkai seem to enjoy Ryousuke’s songs without much question, Youichi can’t help wondering if they’re just Ryousuke’s own preferences to learn or if the humans of this era simply have that bad taste in composing music.

All trivial things aside, Youichi also wonders what’s the reason for Ryousuke’s visit. With his shrine being as deep into the mountain as it is, only a few people actually go the lengths for routine prayers. Not even Ryousuke goes there often; he usually just sends someone to fetch Youichi after his performances if he ever needs to talk to him. It’s kind of obvious at this point that Ryousuke’s got something coming, and Youichi starts when he’s hit by an abrupt realization. No way. Are those rumours actually true?

“It’d be rude to be so obvious when ignoring someone else’s prayers, you know,” Ryousuke chides the moment he finishes playing. Youichi could only stare at him, almost too afraid to ask the question he wants to ask because what happens if it’s true? What’s going to happen if it’s true?

“Ryou-san, is— “

He doesn’t get to finish, the words halting in his throat when Ryousuke moves to kneel before his altar and claps twice before pressing his hands together. Youichi bites his lip, fighting down his own agitation. As much as he wants answers, it’s his job first and foremost to listen when he’s being prayed to. His questions could wait, maybe. Or perhaps Ryousuke’s obviously refusing to let him ask because he expects he’d be able to glean for clues on his own.

The system works like this: deities can hear the prayers of humans as long as the humans themselves are sincere. Famous deities usually have the power to choose who and what to hear, but those in charge of smaller areas like Youichi usually have no choice. That’s not the problem, in any case. The problem is that if Ryousuke himself needs a heartfelt prayer to Youichi, then there’s no doubt that there’s something huge about to happen.

“Your feet smells.” Ryousuke’s voice rings clear in his mind the moment he focuses. Youichi’s quick to make a sound of protest, receiving a playful smirk in response.

He can’t help noticing how quickly it fades.

“Please keep my brother safe while I’m gone.” Ryousuke’s tone takes an abrupt, grave turn the moment his mirth fades. “Please watch over the village as well; make sure there’s still a village for me to come back to when it’s all over.”

“Where are you going?”

It’s only when Ryousuke glances up at him with a strange look that Youichi realizes he hadn’t said that aloud. One of the abilities of a tengu include appearing in people’s dreams and speaking directly to them in their minds. Youichi admits he’s had a few chats with Haruichi that way, but he’s never bothered (and wanted) to try with Ryousuke. This form of telepathy involves creating temporary links between himself and the recipient, and Youichi doesn’t even need to try to know Ryosuke’s got a solid wall as his mental defences. He has to if he wants to avoid the chances of him being possessed himself. There’s no doubt plenty of spirits who’d want to get their hands on that sort of spiritual power over the years.

And now Youichi has practically invaded Ryousuke’s mind by accident while he still has his guard down during his prayer—probably not the most polite thing he could’ve done. With how uptight Ryousuke seems to be when it comes to respect and all that, Youichi tenses almost immediately, bracing himself to have his ass whooped any moment now. He’s scrambling trying to form the best apology that doesn’t involve him begging for forgiveness in a voice a pitch or two higher than usual when Ryousuke answers.

“Haven’t you heard? The Nine-tailed Fox is in the Capital.”

It takes Youichi half a second to register he’s heard him with his ears this time. Ryousuke’s tone retains its unreadable nonchalance, but Youichi has glimpsed enough during that quick moment of linkage to know better. Even the great onmyouji Kominato Ryousuke could be afraid of something. And with what the current ‘something’ he’s about to face is, Youichi doesn’t blame him. Even the gods have been struggling to stop her all this while; what chances would humans have?

“And you’re going there to face her?” It comes out sounding more incredulous, more involved than Youichi thinks should be necessary. They’re partners, their jobs complement each other’s—but they’re not exactly…friends. Or at least Youichi has never gotten the impression. His idea of friends sort of includes less instinctive flinching and a whole less verbal harassment.

“Technically, yes, but I won’t be doing it alone,” Ryousuke replies, and Youichi catches himself nearly sighing in relief. Still, Ryousuke tilts his head slightly, smiling in scarcely concealed amusement as though noticing his efforts. “Are you worried, Youichi?”

Youichi thanks whatever gods who are listening for his dark complexion because he feels his cheeks warming in betrayal. Then again, he’s never been much of a great liar and Ryousuke’s definitely shrewd enough to see a lie a mile away—Youichi resigns to the fact that he’ll probably only make things more embarrassing for himself for trying so unnecessarily hard.

“With that kind of danger so close by? You bet.” It’s surprisingly easy to admit. Youichi averts his gaze, expecting to bear the brunt of Ryousuke’s usual teasing.

“I won’t let her come this far even if all things fail.”

Youichi focuses on him once more, slightly taken aback by the unexpected declaration. Ryousuke moves to leave without another word, turning his back so Youichi isn’t able to see the expression he’s wearing.

…Right. If there’s someone who loathes openly showing his own weakness more than anyone else, it’s Ryousuke. With all that’s happened in the past few minutes alone, Youichi guesses he’s probably at his limit before his ego takes permanent damage. He’d cackle at the revelation under normal circumstances, but not now. Not with how it’s just dawned him anew how recklessly brave Ryousuke could be.

“Ryou-san.”

At the call of his name, Ryousuke pauses in his steps. Youichi waits until he glances a little over his shoulder, his profile obscured by his pink hair. He then takes a breath.

“Be careful.”

Youichi still isn’t quite sure until this time and day, but he thinks he hears a barely audible “thank you” before Ryousuke leaves.

*more on okuri inu,nurarihyon, and the Hyakki Yagyō

#kuraryou #kominato ryousuke #kuramochi youichi #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #//TRIPS IN 4720384 YEARS LATE WITH MY LIFE IN TATTERS HEY GUYS HOWS IT GOING #ive been having a massive writer's block since forever ugh i hope this is okay _(:D #fanfiction

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sileancastle · 5 years

Text

Silean Castle [Chapter One]

As Mrs Williams rattled on about the history of Uphonia, a boy in the classroom was reviewing his notes.

Complaceny - a feeling of smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements.

Force = Mass * Acceleration

The Harlem family is the owners of the famous Rickadie Crown, who hasn't chosen a new owner since Sir Callem Rickadie the forth.

Of course, all that wasn't on his small piece of paper. It was just one word for each of the answers. Complaceny, Fma, Rickadie.

Jake was relying on his memory to remember the longer answers to these words, and hoping his brain would fail him like it did every so often.

"Mr Day." Mrs Williams said in a pause of her lecture. "Who was the last wearers of the Rickadie Crown?"

Jake glanced at his notes, which didn't give the answers he needed. "Sir Callem Rickadie the forth," he racked his brain. "And his younger sister Zinnia, who died when Callem was 9."

"What's that piece of paper?" The teacher asked, standing in front of his desk.

Jake wordlessly handed his notes to his teacher, who gave it back after glancing at it. "Good job."

"Mr. Piercy, please refrain from using magic in my classroom without permission." Mrs Williams said on her way to the front of the classroom. Jake's friend Luke jumped as a floating pencil taking notes dropped onto his desk. "Sorry Mrs Williams."

"Hmm," she said. "Miss Buhrman. What was the cause of Zinnia Rickadie's death?"

I look over to my friend Kelly, as did everyone else. Asleep on her desk, she didn't react to Mrs Williams till she slapped the front of Kelly's desk with a ruler.

"Fire!" Kelly shouted as she jerked her head up, her silver tiara caught midway down her midneck length of brown knots.

"Correct!" Mrs Williams said surprised as the rest of the class snickered. "Zinnia died from a house fire at age 4, shortly after the Rickadie Crown chose her. That death was soon to be followed with more as her father waged war on the neighboring Leige, for he thought that the fire was a work of arson. It wasn't until the current leader George Sirean stepped in that the great Rickadie Lang war ended."

As she lectured about the war, a folded up piece of paper got tossed onto Jake's desk. Putting his notes in his pocket, he unfolded the passed note.

"Meet at Day with Vader in the usual spot" it said in Kelly's usual scrawl. Catching his friend's gaze he nodded, then passed the note to Luke.

He didn't react to it immediately, as Mrs Williams was facing the class. As she asked Jessie Gumb to explain one part of the war, Luke looked at the note, and caught Kelly's eyes, frowning.

Jake averted his attention away from his two friends' staring contests to pay attention to the lesson.

After the lesson, the trio met up at a table outside of their school.

"Why'd you want to meet up?" Jake asked Kelly.

"Cause I don't want to fail the submission test!" Kelly cried, flopping onto the table, face planted on the metal top.

"Calm down Kelly." Luke said, moving some notes away from the flopped figure. "You won't fail."

"Yeah I will!" She said, lifting her head. "Silean only accepts the best! And I'm not!"

"You think we are?" Jake asked.

"Luke is straight up smart, and your notes are crazy good!"

"No they're not." Jake said.

"She's right." Luke said. "You always know ahead of time what the questions are, and write the answers in a way that only you get."

"Okay, first, it doesn't always work like that." Jake insisted. "And second, let's stop talking about this!"

"Alright." Luke said, adjusting his gold circlet with green spots of emerald. "But do you know what the test is going to be focusing on?"

"Probably history." Jake guessed, ignoring Kelly's groan. "The headmaster is the son of the last Duchess."

"Why history!" Kelly moaned. "Why can't it be easy like math!"

"Cause the Silean family is rich in history." Luke said. "And it won't be the common knowledge that would be on the test."

"If only," Kelly cried. "I can easily tell you the last Duchess is Emily Silean!"

"That's cause it's preschool stuff." Jake said. "The test would probably focus on other kinds of history, like the genology of the Sileans, or how they came into power, or the last dynasty before them, or where the Silean crown was seen last."

Jake stopped as he noticed a floating pencil near Luke writing down what he said. "Come on, I'm just guessing."

"Your guessed are close to accurate." Luke said, pointing to him.

"Fine!" Jake said. "Study that stuff if you want! I'm not the end all be all."

Leaving Luke to tutor Kelly, Jake stood up to give himself a breather. He walked around the school grounds, taking in his last day at primary school. That afternoon would be tests for the final grade. Most students on Jake's grade would take these tests. His trio wanted to get into the Silean academy, one of the best secondary schools out there. Well, the guys wanted to get in. Kelly just wanted to stay with her friends.

He walked through a garden, bursting with flowers and crops. Free to take one, Jake strolled to a cherry tree near a pond and took one. Popping it in his mouth, he spit the pit into a trash can he was passing.

As he made his way to the exit, he heard beautiful singing.

He turrned a corner and saw a girl with long black hair in a braid singing in a foreign language. Eyes closed, she swayed to the slow beat, her face filled with emotions.

Jake stood there, though he didn't know how long, listening to the beautiful music.

When the girl ended her song, she opened her blue eyes, and gave a start when she saw Jake.

"You startled me!" She said, in a strange accent.

"Sorry. Your song was beautiful." Jake complemented.

"Hmm," she said, "You are a student here?"

"Yeah, last year. The name's Jake Day."

"Hmm," the girl said again. "I grant you my name. Serine Yarrlock, originating from the southern coast, come to take one submission test."

"Glad you could come, Serine." Jake said. "What secondary school are you testing for?"

"My father wishes me to attend Silean academy."

"Oh, that's what I'm testing for. Just a heads up, the test might be of politics and crown magic."

"Ah, thank you for the assistance. But why do you think that?"

Jake shrugged. "It's a little querk I have."

Off in the distance, an old fashion bell rang, followed by a voice on the intercom. "Can all eighth graders testing please proceed to room 11c?"

"Well, we better go," Jake said, turning back to Serine. But the bench she was on was empty.

"Huh, must be a teleporter." Jake muttered as he made his way out of the garden, and to the school entrance.

As he entered room 11c with some other students, he was stopped at a table right near the door.

"What school are you testing for?" A man at the table asked.

"Silean academy." Jake replied.

"Here you go." The man said, taking a packet from one of many piles. "The table you're sitting at is on the front."

Glancing at the front, he made his way to table 13, passing Kelly in an already filled table.

Jake sat down at the table with two other students, and started flipping through the magically blank packet.

Looking around the filling room, Jake spotted Luke four tables away, and the foreign girl, Serine, at a table by the door.

Soon enough, the stream of students stopped, and the man who gave them their packets closed the door, but not before the headmistress of the school came in.

"Welcome kids!" Ms Rudolph said. "To my students, I hope you had a good time here, and to visitors coming just for the tests, I hope you like your short time here.

"Now, before we get started, let me just say a few things.

"No magic is nessesary for the written portion of the exam. The pencils that will be given to you will allow you to see your test. So there will be no cheating."

"Now then!" Ms Rudolph clapped her hands. "Let us begin!"

Twitching her fingers in a follow me motion, a stream of pencils flowed from a box the man pulled out, and each one floated to an individual student.

Jake grabbed the one floating in front of him and opened the packet to the first page.

"What was the last dynasty that used the title 'King' 'Queen'"

Jake quickly wrote down the written answer and went on to the next question.

"Discribe two ways a crown may choose a wearer, and at approximately what age?"

Jake smiled. He was one of the people that got chosen by a crown, instead of given it.

'At around 6-7 will a crown usually chose it's wearer. Two examples is the crown glowing as the crown is presented to the child, or as the crown appearing by the child's bed.'

As Jake went on to the next question, he found himself atomatically answering as his mind wandered.

He remembered the morning his crown choose him. The morning of his seventh birthday, he woke up with a rusty elaborate crown sitting next to his alarm clock. He thought his mom put it there as a birthday surprise, but she never saw it before.

As Jake finished the last question, his mind flicked to his crown in general. He didn't wear it often, cause when other students had elaborate crowns, he always found it distracting.

He stood up, and brought his test to the door. He put the packet on a pile already made and handed in his pencil.

"Thank you, Mr Day." Ms Rudolph said. "We'll call you back for your practical exam."

Meeting up with Luke, they stood nervously, waiting for Kelly to come out.

"Luke Piercy?" Said Mr Arnold from room 10c. "Time for your practical exam."

Jake patted Luke's shoulder as he walked to the classroom.

Jake stood there, waiting. After Luke was done with his practical exam, he entered the crowded hallway.

"They told me to go to the cafeteria." He told Jake. "I'll see you after you're done."

"See ya." Jake said, absent mindedly.

Thoughts started to flick through his head. He didn't have any magic. Neither did Kelly. Would that cause them to not get in? That would devistate Kel. And Jake? He didn't know how he would react.

After the current person left room 10c, Mr Arnold called his name. "Jake Day?"

Jake made his way through the hallway to the room, where there was a table in the middle of the room, seated which was a lady garbed in scarves and gypsy attire.

"Sit down." Mr Arnold said. Sitting across from the lady, Jake's nerves racked up to an eleven.

"Calm, my son." The lady said. "This test is merely to see if your magic abilities will surface if they have not done so.

"Not being well in magic will not hinder you in your dream."

Jake relaxed at the last part. "What do I have to do?"

"Take my hand, and I will determine your magic level."

Jake put his hand in the darker hand, weighed with rings.

"Ah yes. Some, not all of, your magic has surfaced. Tell me. Have you had premonitions or accurate thoughts of the future?"

"Well, sometimes I can guess questions that are random, like when a teacher calls you out to answer something."

"Ah, you have some seer in you." The lady giggled. "Less than I, but nevertheless, you have great potential in your future of magic."

She nodded to Mr Arnold. "He is done. Call in the next."

Jake stood up, and left the room. The student who was next was Serine. She gave Jake a smile as she passes, and the door closed behind her.

Jake left the crowded hallway and made his way to the cafeteria, where students were already chatting together. Jake sat down next to Luke, who was nervously pulling at his red hair, his crown on the table.

"Hey, you'll definitely get in." He said, patting Luke's back in a comforting way.

"It's not me I'm worried about." He said, staring at the table.

An hour went by before Kelly came into the cafeteria. She sat down next to the two boys. "I ran out of time in the written portion! I don't know if I did it right!"

"It'll be fine." Jake said, giving her a quick hug. "Doesn't matter if you don't get in."

"You were the last one, right?" Luke asked.

"No, second to last."

"Look, there's Ms Rudolph." Jake said, turning to the stage that took the place of one wall.

She put on her head piece, elaborate with feathers, and cleared her throat into a microphone. "Hello again students!"

Jake spotted some younger kids peek into the cafeteria, reminding him of when he used to do that every year.

"In just a moment, we will give you your graded papers with the secondary schools you can choose from. I know all of you did your best. I know your future will be bright."

With that, she did the same gesture with the pencils, and papers fluttered from a pile her assistant brought out, and landed in front of each student.

Flicking through the papers, Jake noticed he only got two answers wrong. On the last page it listed the secondary schools he could go to. "I got in!" He said, spotting Silean academy in the list.

"Me too," Luke said. "Kelly?"

Jake glanced at her, seeing her crestfallen face. "You didn't get in?"

She slowly nodded, until she flipped her paper around and pointed at the school. "Nope! Totally did!"

"Stop messing with us!" Luke said. Giggling, Kelly pulled her papers back and circled the school.

"Can't wait!" She said, beaming.

#SileanCastle #chapter 1 #literature #original creation #don't know what else to out here

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sweetrollcee-blog · 7 years

Text

A Progressive SU FanFic, PT. 11: Human Dance

Lapis suspended David in the air about 20 feet high with a hand of water, "Lapis, what are you doing?! Stop!", Peridot pleaded. "No, what were YOU doing? Why were you holding HIS hand? Why, Peridot? I thought we... I thought you might have been more than just a barn-mate, OK!?", shouted Lapis in a tense frustration, "So Why!? Tell me!", she demanded. A frightened, withdrawn Peridot stammered, "I-I don't kn-know, Lazu-uli, I'm sorry...", she said holding back tears with little success. David looked on at the love triangle he'd caused, this was all his fault. "A previously happy couple, ruined by you. Good on ya, real T good lookin' out, kiddo. You're a homewrecker, a mistake, you're a bad son and a worse brother. This is ALL YOUR FAULT!", David screamed to himself from in his own head, too afraid to make a noise yet the tears were running down his face. "And what's your problem!?", Lapis addressed a suspended, crying David. "I shouldn't have done this to you two, I'm sorry. I don't know why it happened, I just like Peridot, it's not something I could really help! She's just so cute, and smart, and- AGGHHHH!!!", David yelped as Lapis tightened her grip on him. "Lapis, you need. To. STOP!", yelled Peridot, and with a gesture of her arm a spare wheel and tire followed her sweep and knocked Lapis of her back and freeing David for a 20 some odd foot fall. Peridot attempted a catch, but she was too far away and David landed arms first onto the ground with a loud 'SNAP'. As Peridot ran toward David to help, a wave of water came to sweep her up this time. David was sent reeling, winded, and broken from the fall. He rolled onto his back, and through a hazy gaze he noted Sadie to his right, and to his left Peridot being suspended as he was moments before. He began to push himself up with both arms, but his right arm from the shoulder down was locked into a cycle of pain that just wouldn't stop. Sadie held a hand on his chest, "You really shouldn't move David, I think you have a broken collarbone", she said gently trying to prevent him from standing up. "Your hand will only make getting up, HARDER...", David said as he forced through the prevention with only his left arm. Realizing she still full well could stop him, Sadie let him up regardless. As David struggled to his feet, he looked back to Sadie and said, "Hey, Steven told me to tell you, Lars is A-Okay.", with a grin. He turned back around and ambled toward Lapis slowly, still being rather dizzy from the fall. "You're not going to hurt her, Lapis, no one will. Not as long as I still have enough blood left to stand up.", David wheezed as he strode at her with slightly more stable feet. Lapis scowled at David with the absolute meanest of mugs, and then looked at Peridot with a non-changing scowl. "If you want to fight so hard to have her, you can keep her.", said Lapis in a defeated disappointment as she lowered Peridot in a far safer manner than David. "I knew I never should have moved into this barn with you, all this planet has given me is hurt.", Lapis said, taking off. "Lapis wait! Where are you going?", Peridot cried in concern. "I don't know; maybe Jersey, maybe Homeworld, maybe just space, but you can stop pretending to care now.", Lapis said monotone as she flew higher out of gaze. "LAPIS! COME BACK, I'M SORRY! PLEASE!", begged Peridot to an entirely unhearing Lapis, she looked up at David through her tears and he was still crying too, although a lot of that was from pain at this point. "I'm really sorry, Peridot. I ruined everything for you... I need to fix this, how do I? How do I fix this for her?", David asked, halfway hopeful he actually could help. "Just hope she comes back, and that she's not here to kill you when she does...", explained Peridot in a bamboozled defeat. "But getting you fixed up is important, too. Let's get you to Steven." "Shouldn't I see a doctor? No offense to Steve-o, I'm not sure he has super extensive medical knowledge.", "No, but he has the healing spit", interjected Sadie. The trio wordlessly made their way back to the Temple right as Greg was departing to his van for the night. He looked up just in time to notice David, Sadie and Peridot walking to him. "Davy, what happened to you?!", Greg asked with a parental urgency. "I just fell from the barn is all, I'm a bit clumsy y'know...", David responded, "Is Steven asleep? I may need him for a second.", David inquired, hiding his urgency and pain. "Yeah, I just put him to bed, but he's got to still be up..." "Thanks!", David blurted as he passed his father and ascended the stairs to get healing goodness. "He broke his collar bone", Sadie explained, "It was Lapis that did it, really", said Peridot, "She dropped him from high up, at 20 or so feet.." "Why would Lapis do that?!", asked Greg, confused. Peridot blushed and pushed her index fingers together as she had something to explain, "Lapis is mad at David and I, because... David and I, well...", Peridot nervously blundered around the topic, as Greg's eyes widened knowing exectly the situation at hand. "Peridot, you like David, don't you?", asked Greg as Peridot sheepishly nodded, wishing it wasn't true. "Well, let me start with...", said Greg, proceeding to explain Human romance more in depth. David clamored up Steven's loft next to his bed, "Hey Steve-o, I got myself a little hurt, and Peri told me you might be able to help me out...", Said David to Steven, hating to bother him because he knew his little brother should be resting at this time of night. Steven sat up, frazzled and tired from the past sedentary 15 or so minutes, drank from a cup of water, licked his hand and patted David on his wounded shoulder. David gasped as the pain fell away, receding into nothing as his right arm regained function and the severed bones mended themselves. "Wow...", David whispered. "Did it work?", asked a half awake Steven. "Yeah, for bets Steve-o! Thanks man!", said David as Steven laid back down in bed to rest. David rolled his arm a couple of times to pop his rotator cuff, and as he descended the loft Pearl waited at the bottom, sheepish and anxious. "David, I owe you an apology, at the very least an explaination", she said to him in a sorrowful tone. With a final deft pop of his shoulder, he once again threw his arms around Pearl, "You only owe me to be a cool gem from here on out. And I already think you're pretty cool, so...", said David with sincerity. "You feel like I'm here to threaten you, to take from you, but it's not the case..", said David looking up at Pearl. "I'm only here to add to this family, to help, to help you if you need it. Whatever I did, I'm sorry.. But I want to move past it now, please, and I'll do whatever it takes to drive that point home.", stated David shedding a lone tear gazing at an equally sentimental Pearl. "Yeah...", said Pearl softly as she held David in response, "Let's move past all that", she commented quietly. Garnet looked on with a smile. As Pearl and David strode out to the porch, they heard Greg explaining to Peridot : "When I first saw Rose, I knew I couldn't leave her behind... She was the other half I'd needed for 20 something years. 20, that's about how old Davy is, huh? And, well, she was the most compassionate, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen or known in my life. I would have done aything for her, I would have..." "Died for her", Pearl finished softly, even though it still caught Greg's attention. "Yeah, I would have died for her, too..", said Greg, in a realization. "We didn't have enough time together, but I would have given MY life for every last moment I ended up getting to have with her.", said Greg in a remorseful yet hopeful tone. "Now that you're well, you should get some sleep too", said Pearl. "We'll be sure and tell you goodbye before we leave tomorrow", added Garnet as the two entered the home to go to their respective rooms in the temple. David hugged his father, and then Peridot. "Could we get a minute alone, dad?", asked David as he sat next to Peridot. "Sure thing", said Greg as he sauntered toward his van. "I'll see ya tomorrow, kiddo!". Greg paused, turned and ran back to his son to hug him again real quick with a big smile before he proceeded again to his van for the night. "So... Rose huh? I don't really know much about her...", David awkwardly commented to Peridot not knowing what to say. "Rose became Steven", said Peridot in an almost truamatized state, "Is that human love? Is that what it does? It turns us... Human too?", she asked. "I... Don't really know... What did Dad say?", asked David. "Well, when Rose became Steven, she died more or less... Not died, but isn't here anymore... That's why he's got her gem in the same place as her gem was...", explained a still reletively dispondant Peridot. "Well, does it always happen like that? You know like the gem, you know?", asked an unnerved David. "Not as Greg explained it to me. He said that him and Rose attempted a sort of fusion dance, but in a more... 'Human manner', he described it.", Answered Peridot. "Human? Oh... Oooohhhh!... Hehehehehe", David chuckled, "Don't worry, if there's one thing I can assure you: that dance doesn't happen on accident!", he said through a grin. Peridot looked at him in surprise, "So, you know this 'Human Dance' too?", she inquired. "Oh yeah! Yeah, it's a pretty... Popular dance with a lot of humans. That's how more humans are made.", delicately explaining to Peridot. "Greg was saying something similar, but I still don't understand how a dance makes MORE humans...", "Heh, it takes a few months", said David. "Then how do you know it worked?!", asked an increasingly confused and frustrated Peridot. David looked back at her with the most sincere stare: a successful and learned Kindergartner Geo-technician, and even accomplished gardener, yet was still falling behind on her biology lessons. "Come on, Peri, let's go bug dad some more. He'll have more answers, I'd bet!", said David as he stood and reached for Peridot's hand. As they strode back toward the car wash David asked, "Where did Sadie end up going?", "She went back home. Knowing Lars is ok, she figured her mother was worried about her."

#sadie su #peridot su #steven universe #lapis lazuli su #david demayo universe #greg universe #garnet su #pearl su

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