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heliads · 3 years

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Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex, and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys.

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him.

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.

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ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime · 3 years

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Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 2

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

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Chapter 2: Suzu

"Buhaa!"

I got up from a thin futon and took a big breath.

That made me almost hit my head against the low ceiling. This is a shabby attic in the countryside, with rafters supporting the roof approaching just above the bed. "Ah, ah .... ah ..."

It's morning. The sunlight is dazzling. The feeling of the glittering world up to that point remains. I close my eyelids because I want to reach for the residue. Certainly I was standing at the tip of the whale's nose and singing. Wearing gorgeous costumes, singing freely. When I open my eyelids, in front of me is a smartphone on the sheets with the display turned off. On the dark surface, you can see yourself illuminated by the sun. The faded pajamas I've been wearing since I was in junior high school. Messy hair from sleeping. Half-open eyes.

And the freckles scattered on my cheeks. It makes me very depressed. I sigh. Then, I heard my father's voice from the first floor, "Suzu? What's wrong?" I feel impatient. Of course, this isn't a soundproof room, it's just a miserable 7-year-old girl's room. The only way to prevent the sound from leaking out is to wrap it in a futon. Was my voice louder than usual? If so ... The cold sweat of regret floats on my back. "No, it’s nothing ...!"

I hurriedly reply that while crawling on all fours off the bed. What if he’s suspicious and comes upstairs? No, I don't think he’ll come. I changed into my uniform and went downstairs. I didn't see my father. He may be preparing to go to work. He opened the porch and left the window down to let in the cool morning air. He lightly cleaned the living room and dining room and cleaned up the magazines left on the table. While boiling the water, I put the flowers in the garden in a vase and placed it next to the photo frame in the kitchen. He puts a tea bag in a mug and pours hot water. Steam with the scent of black tea boils. My mother is still smiling in the picture frame today.

I'm eating rice. I was sitting on the porch, drinking tea. Dad, who wore a dark blue T-shirt on his tanned skin, came out to the garage with a backpack containing work tools on his shoulders. "Suzu, I’m leaving." I replied, keeping my mouth on the mug. "... Okay" "What about dinner?" "... I’m fine."

"... I see. Then, I'll go." Dad must have been in trouble. I could understand without looking. The engine of a four-wheel drive vehicle starts. After backing up, it turns back and goes down the slope. The sound of the tires travelling across the pebbles slowly drifts away.

I wonder how long I will not make eye contact with him. How long has it been since I stopped talking properly? I wonder how much time has passed since we stopped eating together. There was a notification sound. A balloon pops up on the screen of the smartphone. "Belle is the best beauty created by the virtual world "U." Languages around the world are translated instantly.

"Very unique and rare song" "Belle's song is full of self-confidence" "The most notable presence in 3 billion accounts"

The text balloons went up one after another, competing for the lead, and in a blink of an eye filled the area around the bell icon. But I have no joy, no sense of accomplishment, no sense of exhilaration. No matter how much attention Belle gets, it doesn't matter. With my mouth in my rimmed mug, I shut myself in my shell. The balloon with one comment swells up significantly. It is one of the functions of balloons to enlarge and display the comments that attract the most attention.

Of the tremendous number of comments, the one that attracted the most attention was "Who is she?" I don't think most people in the world know about it, but Shikoku and Kochi are proud of their rich climate, where the steep mountains that cover them, and of the beautiful blue shining clear streams that flow through the valleys. More than 150 years ago, we produced a number of people who dramatically reformed the long-standing feudal society of Japan, which is also one of our prides. The daylight hours are top class in Japan. Alcohol consumption is also top class. Perhaps because of that, my city’s personality is clear, and is said to be friendly and cheerful. But even in such a situation, some people are dark and are always looking down. One of them is me. My house is in the corner of a village with about 30 houses on the slope of a mountain.

A river called the Niyodo River runs ahead of me, and is connected to the opposite bank by a subsidence bridge. A subsidence bridge is a bridge without balustrades, and is designed so that it will not be washed away even if the river rises and the bridge sinks. I cross it every day unless this bridge sinks. The flow of the Niyodo River is still quiet and blue today. Occasionally tourists come by rental car and take a number of pictures on the subsidence bridge, saying that it's beautiful. It's a nice village, isn't it? They do not know the truth of the area. With the school bag on my side, I go down the stone steps and walk on a steep slope. A neighbor's grandmother who was sweeping and cleaning used to call out to me, "Oh, Suzu-chan, good morning," and so on. But not now. The shutters of many homes are tightly closed.

The number of people who live here gradually decreased as they died or moved to the city. There are many such settlements in the Niyodo River basin. It is said that it is near here that a sociologist coined the term "marginal village" long ago. I've been told many times since I was little that adults say that the number of people has decreased surprisingly compared to the village’s peak population. It is at the forefront of a declining population, declining birthrate and aging society, faster than anywhere else in Japan. That is an unmistakable fact. There is a stop at the end of the national highway after going up the slope. The rusty timetable at the bus stop only shows times in the morning and evening.

It's not yet time. After a while, the bus came. I sit in the usual seat at the back of the bus. No one else is in the bus. Passing through the stops one after another. No one is on board. While the bus is shaking, I dimly look at the bulletin board near the driver's seat.

"This bus route will be discontinued at the end of September.”

I live in a place where no one wants to live. It stands right next to a steep cliff approaching the rough sea. I reach the end of the bus route and transfer on to a train.

High school and junior high school students in uniforms from other schools come in little by little at each station. The closer you get to the center of the city, the less visible the floor is, and the two-car train fills up with customers. An announcement in the car tells me the name of the station I should get off at. I see many students of the same uniforms on the way to school. Together we climb a gentle slope. I am one of them. That gives me a lot of peace of mind, maybe.

The summer sunshine is dazzling. Last fall, the brass band was playing in front of the symbol tree in the courtyard. Many students surround it and listen to it. The announcement of the brass band is always popular. It's not just about playing. All players take steps as they perform. It's a lively and fun dance. All the instruments have the steps perfectly matched, yet the performance does not get twisted or shaken. I and Hiro-chan (short for Hiroka) also listened to it from the veranda on the 2nd floor of the gymnasium. When the first song ended and the second song started, a slender tall, beautiful girl was holding the alto saxophone in front of her. She came out. She shook her long, loosely waved hair and played her solo without any disturbance, taking attractive steps from side to side.

"……Cute."

I instinctively say it aloud. Luca-chan - her full name is Ruka Watanabe – I am sighingly fascinated by the lively beauty of her. I can hear the voices of other girls watching on the same balcony.

"Luka-chan is the princess of our school, isn't she?"

"She’s slim and has long legs.”

"Even if she wears a uniform, she look like a model."

They nodded together, saying, "Right~?”

Hiro-chan has a voice that only I can hear next to me, "The jealousy of kids who are neither thin nor slender...,” turning the pages of her book. The girls' voices can be heard continuously.

"Luka-chan naturally acts as a coordinator for everyone."

"I'm sure everyone will come together like Ohisama," Hiro-chan frowned at the back of her silver-rimmed glasses. "They’re annoying. In that respect, Suzu is like the opposite of Luka, so it's easy for no one to come near us."

"Hi- Hiro-chan…"

"Hmm?"

"You have a poisonous tongue, I wonder if you can be a little kinder....."

"A poisonous tongue? Who?" At that time, a loud voice that interrupted the performance echoed in the courtyard. "Why don't you join the canoe club?" Everyone looks back. "It's Kamishin!" "Kamishin has arrived!"

Kamishin – full name Shinjiro Senzu - has a canoe paddle in his hand and a banner with "CANOE" written on his back, and appears randomly.

"Oh, senpai. What about the canoe club?"

"Wow! Stop, Kamishin!"

"Don't enter, that's it." He chased the boys, and then laughed and ran away. Then, he turned around and headed for the group of girls.

"Hey, why don't you do canoeing?"

"Kya ~~~!" The girls scream seriously and run away.

"Oh, hey, let's do some canoeing!"

"Dangerous, run away~"

He is serious, but the reaction around him makes the Kamishin look like a weirdo. He’s like a beast that jumps into beautiful women and rampages.

"Hey, canoe ..."

Watching the girls run away, I feel like defending the hard work of Kamishin.

"It's amazing to start a canoe club by yourself, isn't it?"

"But he's the only one in it."

"I wonder why.”

"I wonder~”

Hiro turned her eyes to Luka, who seemed to be anxious about the hustle and bustle while playing. Luka stiffened and turned her back to Kamishin as if she didn't want to see him. Hiro-chan does not overlook the gesture. She closed her book and turned her stern eyes to Luka. “You’re being looked down on.”

We left the gymnasium and wandered around the school. Chorus club, biology club, light music club, dance club. Various club activities. The activity was appealing to each. As I crossed the glass-walled corridor, I heard the cheers and applause of the girls from somewhere.

10N1 was held at the one-on-one outdoor basketball court. It is a solicitation performance of the men's basketball club. A ball is thrown into the court for the next game. You can see a boy in a hoodie who catches it with a lean hand.

"Ah ..." The game starts. Shinobu-kun, full name Shinobu Kutake, slowly dribbles and watches the situation. The opponent's senpai is raising his right hand as a checker, being wary of the jump shot. Shinobu lowers his hips. Shinobu tries to pull out with a low dribble, but the opponent's guard is tight and he withdraws. When he thinks he has stopped Shibobu, he suddenly shoots a jump shot from a short motion.

He’s fast. The senior hurriedly reached out with his fingers spread out, but he couldn't reach Shinobu. The previous move was a feint. The ball drew a beautiful arc and passed through the goal net. The girls lined up in the corridor on the 3rd floor gave an enthusiastic applause. But Shinobu doesn't even smile. His coolness is attracting attention from girls in school. Before the applause stopped, the court had already moved on to the next game. Shinobu-kun, while measuring the timing, dribbles low to push the defense away. As if to say that you can't win even with power. If you forcibly cut in and pull out the senior in a blink of an eye, you will definitely go to the layup. There is a pleasant sound of the ball slipping through the goal net. Again, the girls' applause echoed on the walls of the school building. I told Hiro-chan,

"........ Shinobu-kun, I didn't think he would be that tall."

He’s my childhood friend.

"He was your childhood friend?"

"Ohon. Actually, I've been proposed to by Shinobu-kun."

"Seriously? What?"

"[Suzu, I'll protect you], he said.”

"When was that?"

"When we were 6 years old."

"....... Even if such an ancient story is spoken…"

Astonished, Hiro sighed. Another goal was scored. In the applause, Shinobu-kun, who finished the game, went out of the court alongside his senior without even smiling. Shinobu-kun, my childhood friend. He’s no longer within my reach.

I came back from school and crossed the subsidence bridge. I was with Shinobu from kindergarten through the lower grades of elementary school. After that, Shinobu moved to the city and we were separated. He was in my high school and we became classmates again. But it isn’t like it used to be. At that time, I didn't expect to become a child who is always looking down like I am now. There is a reason why this happened. I saw the quiet stream of the Niyodo River. Yes. That is an ancient story. A white bird passed low on the surface of the water.

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

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

#belle #ryuu to sobakasu no hime #ryu to sobakasu no hime #ryuu #ryu #sobakasu #hime #studio chizu #mamoru hosoda #belle movie #竜とそばかすの姫 #belle 2021

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retvenkos · 4 years

Text

always waiting (just not in that tree) | r.a.b.

Harry Potter - Regulus Arcturus Black x Reader, angst, slight fluff requested by @captainshazamerica

tw: death eaters, mild language, mentions of death, mentions of betrayal

word count: 2.2k

prompt: “where were you?” / “i’m doing the best i can—” / “no. you’re not hearing me. where were you?”

Summary: A lifetime ago, Regulus and (Y/n) made plans to leave their life behind, but when the time came, he never showed. Two years later, he survives the Drink of Despair and (Y/n) wonders what ever stopped him from leaving, in the first place.

The day was cold. The morning started with a chilling wind, the howling air sweeping across the world with a vengeance, crying out sorrowfully as though it knew what as to come; the sun didn’t shine until at least mid-day, and even as it fought against the thick clouds above, it’s warmth never made it to the ground below, just dissipated in the top layer of the atmosphere. (Y/n) had woken to the deafening sound of silence, and throughout the day, it hung around their shoulders like a shroud. They checked the clock at 11:15, then again at 11:30. At 12:00, they checked it every five minutes.

There was no sound but the moaning wind.

(Y/n) checked their bag, rooting through the seemingly endless bottom until they found the note and the cipher needed to read it. Regulus’ careful handwriting met them, with its sharp edges and careful curves.

Noon, the day before it happens.

(Y/n) shoved all their belongings back into their bag, except for two - their wand and the note. They held onto the creased, stained parchment with a strength born from that insatiable fear that ate at them, gnawing at the pit of their stomach and sliding down their throat. He would be here - he had to be.

The wind stopped at around 3:18. The stillness was almost worse than the wind. (Y/n) held their watch in a knuckle-tight grip, their skin stretched over their bones in such a way it hurt; the pain of their dry, cracked skin pulling itself too tightly was almost enough to mask the pain that tore at their heart and plagued their mind.

They had planned it meticulously. His parents were gone, the house-elves were en route to Malfoy Manor for a 3-minute window where the house was vacant and the wards were taken down. He couldn’t have missed it - they had practiced it too many times before...

Maybe he got lost in the woods. The trees grew so closely together it was easy to get turned around between one path and another. Perhaps he had come across some danger that was delaying him - a danger that made no sound.

(Y/n) looked at the clock face once more.

Night fell and there were no stars to guide the way. (Y/n) still sat in their meeting place, in the branches of the largest elm tree they could find, with knots all up the trunk, and a lonely Slytherin scarf hanging from one of the lower branches.

It had been one of the first things they’d done when they planned their escape. Together, they had stolen as many scarves as they could, coming to the forest and tying them onto the branches of trees - ones that bore no resemblance to their meeting spot but could fool the untrained eye, perhaps make the marker meaningless to anyone else. Regulus had tied his own scarf to the final tree, his sad eyes more solemn than (Y/n) had ever seen, his countenance more sombre.

(Y/n) could still see him, with his dark hair falling into his eyes, the wind turning his usual poised self reckless, his entire being pulling loose and falling at (Y/n)’s feet. They had put their hand on his shoulder and how they had wished it was something more.

(Y/n) wished, still.

A branch snapped in the cold night air. (Y/n) startled at the sound, and their heart leapt in their chest, only to freeze in dread. Their parents walked below with their hoods pulled up but their faces exposed. (Y/n) clutched their wand in their dominant hand, but their entire being shook with fear. If they were caught, there would be no chance of running ever again. Their left forearm itched, as though the cursed mark was already there, crawling up their skin and forever branding them the enemy.

(Y/n) had to run, damn the consequences. If they were killed in their escape, perhaps it would be a mercy.

(Y/n) looked down at Regulus' scarf, tied on the branch below. In another life, they would have risked everything to retrieve it; in another life, they would have waited, still.

But part of them knew they would always be waiting, just not in this tree.

"I love you, Regulus. Please, forgive me."

They apparated into the night.

✧ *:･ﾟ

For two years, (Y/n) lived in a haze. During the day, they were running and fighting, soldiering in a war was never easy, particularly when the foe was once a schoolmate and killers were once friends. At night, (Y/n) couldn't sleep; guilt was a fickle companion, never satisfied with the attention it received and apathetic about the destruction it wrought. There was always a part of (Y/n) that saw the Death Eater they almost were - the monster that almost was - and it made fighting harder. How could they go toe to toe with a Death Eater, when they were unable to reconcile with the knowledge that they were once fated to be the very thing they were to destroy? Sometimes, when in the thick of things, (Y/n) searched for Regulus in the crowd, although what they would do when they found him, they did not know. There was a fair chance that he wasn't even alive, the way he had disappeared, and yet (Y/n) searched, still.

At times they felt that part of them would always be searching for him, waiting for him to show up - just not in that tree.

(Y/n) made few allies during their time amongst the Order of the Phoenix, and even fewer friends. Most of the members didn't trust them. There was a constant undercurrent of suspicion in the ranks, and while (Y/n) didn't judge their reluctancy, it made things more difficult. It also made them wonder, occasionally, what it would have been like, had Regulus joined them. He would have hated the judgment - they so easily trusted some, and others would never receive the same confidence. His brother would be loved, and he would be doubted. Sometimes, (Y/n) could conjecture what complaints he would have, and it would bring a nostalgic smile - sweet, but with a bitter end.

All they had was conjecture, anymore, and as (Y/n) walked into the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, taking a seat in the meeting area, they tried to fathom what Regulus might think if he could see them now.

People trickled into the room fairly slowly, talking in hushed whispers and throwing glances about the room as though there was some secret that only a select few knew. (Y/n) watched them through careful eyes, already in tune to the low level of tension in the room. At one point, Sirius Black threw a sideways glance at them, but instead of being filled with his usual fire, there was pity combined with something akin to respect. (Y/n) had looked away (what else were they supposed to do?) but they knew that something had happened. The question was... what?

When Albus Dumbledore walked in, his eyes scanned the room as usual, but this time they rested on (Y/n). It was in his gaze, too, then, a regretful sort of acceptance that gave way to poignancy - the kind of look one has after seeing an emotional piece of art and feeling something deep within them move to compassion. (Y/n) had only seen that look a few times before, and they had only ever given it to one - someone who still lay heavy on their heart.

"As always, there is good news and bad..."

(Y/n) studied their cuticles, listening to the conversation that surrounded them. Meetings like this were usually long, with many triumphs recognized alongside terrible evils - news of death interwoven with stories of victory. There was celebration and there was sorrow; (Y/n) learned rather quickly to keep their head down and their hopes stable. It was the only way to get by.

At some point through the meeting, James Potter snuck in, and he took a seat beside (Y/n), whispering their name. They turned to him, eyebrow furrowing. "Yes?"

"There's someone in the sick room you should see, he's just gained consciousness again and is asking for you. Dumbledore wanted us to wait but..."

And (Y/n) hated the way their hopes jumbled inside of them, as though it might be something grand. "Who?"

A name left James' lips.

(Y/n) gasped.

(Y/n) rushed to the hall without another word. Their mind was numb, trying to formulate some kind of response to what they had heard - something that could reconcile reality and dream - but there was so much conflicting evidence that it was at a standstill, shortcircuiting like static. But their heart cared not for the complication of the mind, and it ached in only one, increasingly profound way.

When they made it to the door that separated the makeshift sick room from the rest of the house, (Y/n) paused. Their mind ran through a thousand possibilities, replaying that day in their mind over and over until it brought tears to their eyes. (Y/n) screwed their eyes shut and started to pull their hand away when they heard a cough from within. Without a single thought, (Y/n) swung open the door.

And there he was.

For a moment that existed outside of reality, they just stared at each other.

There he was, with his dark hair falling into his eyes, the weight of the world having turned his usual poised self into something reckless, his entire being pulled loose and falling at (Y/n)'s feet. In his eyes was that same solemn melancholy, his countenance sombre and aged.

"Regulus..." and their whole life, they had been preparing for this moment, wishing they would be able to say more.

(Y/n) wished, still.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

(Y/n) didn't walk in, but clung to the doorway. "Where were you?"

And he took in a labored breath.

"I waited for you," (Y/n)'s words trembled with the beginnings of a sob, "Where were you?"

"I was doing the best that I could—"

"No, you're not hearing me." (Y/n) had thought they would savor the sound of his voice, but all it did was bring back a rush of memories they had been fighting for two years to keep down. They had been waiting - always waiting - for two, long years, and now they wanted answers. (Y/n) couldn't afford to fathom their own, anymore. "I didn't leave that tree until nightfall. I was almost caught by my parents, waiting for you to show. Where were you?"

As if he didn't already look pained enough, Regulus' eyes filled with a terrible kind of sorrow. "I was going to leave with you. I had my bag packed and I was waiting to apparate but then... then I saw Sirius. At Grimmauld Place. He must have also known that our parents were gone because he was there, nicking some family heirlooms - dark artifacts that he didn’t want them to be able to use in the future. (Y/n), I thought I had the time to confront him... I wasn't leaving you."

(Y/n) surged forward, tears spilling down their face as they hugged Regulus with all the force of those stolen, lonely years. He sobbed into their shoulder, his entire being quaking, spilling from every edge and breaking apart.

“I’ve relived my worst failures trying to fix things, (Y/n). The Drink of Despair.... it showed me you, waiting in our tree. I didn’t mean to leave you, (Y/n). You’re the last person I meant to hurt.”

(Y/n) held him until his tears subsided, until his sobs were no longer quite so far and until his breathing calmed and their hearts beat as one. (Y/n) breathed in the feeling of him, and for once, they weren't waiting for anything. (Y/n) had been searching through every crowd and waiting for millennia, and now he was here.

It wasn't in their tree, but he had come.

Regulus eventually spoke, finally finishing his story, but never once did he let go. "We fought in the hallway, and I pulled my wand. I don't know what I was going to do, but he got to me first and knocked me out. I woke up the next morning, and it was too late."

"But you're here, now. You came."

"I wanted to come sooner," he breathed, and his words tickled (Y/n)'s neck. “I meant it when I said we’d leave together. You’re all I have left.” (Y/n) held onto the way he felt in their arms, alive and breathing. They hugged him with all the strength they had, and how they wished it was something more.

But there would be time for that. For now, they could just revel in the idea that Regulus was safe, and he made his way back to them.

“Please don’t leave, again.”

And Regulus held (Y/n) a little tighter, as though he was afraid they would slip through his grasp. “I don’t plan to,” he whispered, his voice gruff and full of all the longing he had ever carried in his chest.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @theletterhart, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels, @timeofmadness, @writerdream22, @lotsoffandomrecs, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena, @coffee–writes, @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @noesapphic, @amortensie // message me if you want to be added!

#hp #hp marauder era #marauder era #regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black imagine #one shot #imagine #fanfic #hp fanfiction #reader insert #angst #slight fluff #hp imagine #hp reader insert #alright but i really got into this one #the title? idk. i'm still on the fence but it's better than my other gut reaction

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winchester-interrupted · 4 years

Text

texts ive sent as an enfp pt2

- literally thats the plan or I’m so screwed

- bro what kind of shitty day is this

- i just breathed too high

- have you ever seen a green solo cup

- i will now be commencing outside for a smoke because i’m a slut for escapism

- i’ll do the bare minimum and that’s IT

- i am very attracted to kevin james

- i woke up this morning and my coffee tasted like whiskey

- becaaaaaause i do not like to be under appreciated it’s not good for my ego

- if i wasn’t dead inside i would almost pity him

- you know me i’ll think of an impulse plan at some point

- i did go to bed at 5:30 but that is besides the point

- i think i manipulated a little too hard while i was angry

- i like to push my limits and people’s boundaries 🤩

- get in the car we’re taking you to a better place

- it’s the rebellious spirit for me

- time to turn up my bumble age limit

- can you imagine living just because like you want to

- waiting to see if future me is gonna come kick my ass again

- anyways i’m good just like on 2% battery mentally

- started digging into what the fuck a revenant is and now i have downloaded a 315 page pdf document entirely in latin of ancient records and sightings

- let’s go to vegas fuck it

- i’m bringing a flask of whiskey with me

- oh god did i osmosis my commitment issues on you

- OH GOOD HOLY MORNING TO YOU

- i just picked up my phone after i threw it into the closet for like 3 hours what’s up

- whew. deep breathing

- whoever is the author my life is a fucking shit writer

- very impulsive i like it

- THINGS ARE NOT EXTRAVAGANT

- do you know the entire day yesterday i was thinking it was wednesday???? fucking moron now we leave today and i’m not packed

- but alas she has not met any of my expectations (as usual)

- it was a video of me laughing then choking then realizing i left my entire purse in his car

- jack daniels kicked my ass that’s what

- wow i kind of just started clicking emojis and sending them i was feeling very passionate

- bro tell me why i’m crying in my bed rn thinking about how cold that little chipmunk is

- i’ve concluded that there’s nothing left for us here

- u know when you feel like you don’t have a mood at all like am i happy or sad or like huh?

- i think i did some good conflict resolution

- you know i always pick up weird phone calls!!!

- i fell asleep early last night and it was disgusting. i feel vile

- they found me passed out face down on a bench still clutching the bottle

- i been like off my phone? stuck in this house all day? depressing

- it’s cool i’ve been slowly cutting all the men out of my life and by slowly i mean rapidly

- bro my entire psyche is built around the fact that “normal” is unhealthy and unhealthy is normal

- I JUST ALMOST FELL OUT THE KITCHEN WINDOW BECAUSE I TOOK OFF THE SCREEN AND CRAWLED OUT TO TRY AND SAVE A TINY FROG

- bro is it worse that i was aware of every red flag i just wanted some dick

- fucking capitalist pigs

- do you know what i cant wait to die because the first thing i’m gonna do is find swayze and punch him

- every day i wake up and think, how can i make the world a little worse today?

- unbeknownst to him i have mommy issues

- LMAO i was going to but then i self depricated

- in my defence i was possessed by the ghost of jack daniels

- please i am going to go lie in the snow

- who the fuck orders chicken fajitas at a steakhouse??? of course i blocked him

- like you know what just shut the fuck up until i decide if i want to continue speaking to you or not

- don’t ever say i’m not a woman of my word 🤠

- ok hold on explain before i start irrationally yelling

- time to binge my lectures like it’s a tv show✨

- i was just about to ghost him and then his dog died and now i have to console him

- yes but with an abundance of alchohol

- boundaries?????????? sleeping?????? eating at normal times of the day????? healthy relationships?????

- because the school system is deeply flawed and i am happy to lead the rebellion against it

- be infatuated with me and i will like you some days and you don’t exist when i don’t want you to ok?

- so i had a dream that i got stabbed in the back at a bar and died on the floor while an otis redding song played over it. let’s analyze

- is it bad i genuinely can not fathom the fact that couples go to bed together and wake up together like the thought of that stresses me out so bad

- comfort lies at the bottom of this bottle

#myers briggs enfp #enfp thoughts #enfp life #enfp #enfp personality #enfp things #enfp mbti #enfp moodboard #enfp female #texts from an enfp

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #10 - pre-fic

[Masterpost]

Anelmemi over on Ao3 commented on chapter 4: “If you’re taking requests or prompts, the line about baby!Lan Zhan with all the intensity of first timeline 30 year old Lan Zhan is an image that stuck with me. The conversation where he tells his mom about everything would make for an interesting extra.”

So here it is! Disclaimer: I’ve gone in a sliiiightly different direction (in that this is 7k words long and they don’t even get to the part where Lan Zhan tells her everything) BUT - that being said - I think I’m going to use this prompt as the first chapter/installment of a selection of scenes from the Wangxian side of the fix-it. Like you know how I said I wrote AEM as a ‘sequel’ to a fix-it fic that doesn’t exist? I’m gonna make the fix-it fic exist, at least in bits and pieces. I guess I already have kind of been doing that with the amount of pre-fic extras I’ve written for this universe, but none of them have been from the Wangxian side of things where the actual fix-it mechanics are happening. Might be time to change that. We’ll see! Either way, here’s some baby-not-actually-baby!Lan Zhan scaring the living hell out of his mom for you <3

----

Lan Zhan opens his eyes with a gasp, the blindingly blue flash of his and Wei Ying’s array gone as suddenly as it had flared. He’s in the dark now, kneeling in the middle of the floor of a room that is definitely not the addition to the Jingshi he had built to be Wei Ying’s workroom. It takes a long moment for his eyes to adjust but when they do he blinks and forces himself to take slow, deep breaths in and out.

He has to stay calm.

They hadn’t been sure if the array would work, or, if it did, exactly what they would be in for.

Getting separated was, unfortunately, a distinct possibility.

It is now his reality.

He has to focus on what he can control or risk sinking into a despair too deep for him to accomplish the task he and Wei Ying have set for themselves, and he will not break a promise to Wei Ying. They have agreed to try again - he will have to try, and trust that he and Wei Ying will not truly have to be separated again in any life.

Lan Zhan stands slowly to take stock of the situation and immediately becomes disoriented when he rises to his feet only to find that everything is in nearly the same spot in his vision it had been while on his knees. He glances down at himself and holds a hand up in the moonlight and…

Ah. Childhood.

That’s...less than ideal.

Of course while writing the array they hadn’t specified a specific time or age to return to (beyond limiting it to their own lifetimes). To be quite honest Lan Zhan hadn’t entirely been able to follow Wei Ying’s logic for most of the components of the array, but he trusted his husband to ensure it wouldn’t kill them or others. Beyond that, their only desire had been a chance to retain their memories and use the wisdom of their years to heal all the rifts they possibly could in their world, to attempt to soothe the pains that they and everyone they love (who is still alive) have all had to learn to live with.

He’s grateful that it worked.

That being said, he doesn’t particularly want to be a child again. He’s awfully short, after all - and Wei Ying isn’t here, which is perhaps the worst offense.

He reaches up to touch his cheek as he feels something drip down it and his small fingers come away wet with tears; he suppresses a sigh as he tries not to continue crying. It would seem that a toddler’s body is a bit too small and immature to hold the weight of the grief he carries with him in the depths of his soul, and he can already tell by the feeling rising in his chest that trying to contain it will be useless. He dusts his knees off as more tears start to drip down his cheeks and then he turns to walk sedately across the room to his little bed. He crawls into it, buries his face in his pillow, and promptly starts sobbing, the way he hasn’t since the first time he was this age.

When A-Yuan had still been a toddler, there had been some (many) who accused Lan Zhan of being too soft on the boy. He had been prone to crying if left to his own devices for too long, and after the third time he heard of it happening while A-Yuan was supposedly in the care of those who watched the rest of the sect children, Lan Zhan had insisted that the boy remain with him in his seclusion if Lan Xichen needed to be relieved from watching him to attend to business. It meant that A-Yuan had grown up with less socialization amongst his peers as a young boy, but his nature was such that the lack could hardly be seen by the time he had grown out of his fears of separation to join the other children in their classes.

It had also meant that when A-Yuan cried, he was never without a comforting hand in his hair or on his back, soothing him, reminding him that he was not alone, that he would never be left alone again. If his son was spoiled then so be it, but Lan Zhan would not allow his and Wei Ying’s child to grow up bowed under the cold austerity of a rule warning against excessive grief taken to its most extreme interpretation and weaponized against the grief-stricken. Lan Zhan is intimately aware of the products of that rule, and it’s one he refused to enforce - a decision he has never regretted.

Tonight, however, there’s no one to do the same for Lan Zhan. No one is here to pet his hair or talk softly to him about how the rabbits are doing, or tell him a story of the sort he used to tell A-Yuan to distract him. Lan Zhan, unlike his son, is used to it, and so he cries until his head hurts and then he bundles himself up in the tightest ball of blankets he can manage to try to sleep and wait for morning. It’s strange, trying to sleep without Wei Ying crowded into his space, breathing steadily against his neck and muttering under his breath in between soft snores. He eventually manages it when the moon slips behind the mountain again and the room is plunged into the soft almost-black blue of false dawn. In the gentle hum of the world dipping into its deepest hush outside his window he manages to let his exhaustion take over long enough to get a couple more hours of rest.

Lan Zhan wakes at five.

The gong rings through the mountain in exactly the way it always has and he opens his itchy, tired eyes to begin dressing and preparing for the day. His hands are clumsier than they ought to be, his grip weaker than he can ever remember it being and his limbs slightly less cooperative than he would prefer. He manages not to get too frustrated by the dissonance of it, though by the time Lan Xichen comes to fetch him he’s wearing a truly impressive pout (for him) and he watches, disgruntled, as his brother stifles a laugh behind his sleeve.

“Good morning didi,” Lan Xichen greets when he’s done silently laughing at him and Lan Zhan watches in fascination as his brother - still just a child himself, of course - glances both ways up and down the hallway with a mischievous little smile before dropping to one knee and holding his arms out to him. “You look like you had a bad night. Do you want a hug?”

Lan Zhan’s pouting lower lip trembles as he nods and steps forward slowly to tuck himself into Lan Xichen’s chest.

He honestly can’t remember the last time someone besides Wei Ying hugged him (he supposes it must have been A-Yuan, back before he had grown too old to ask for them anymore), but as Lan Xichen wraps him in his arms it feels so entirely natural that he practically melts, going boneless and rubbing his face into the heavy silk on Lan Xichen’s narrow shoulder like a cat seeking affection. Lan Xichen huffs a soft chuckle and squeezes him a little tighter; Lan Zhan wouldn’t be perfectly happy staying like this forever (he misses Wei Ying, and this isn’t helping them find each other again), but he would be perfectly content to stay there for a few days at least, just being held and cared for by his brother while he’s still small enough to reasonably get away with it.

Of course the list of people that Lan Zhan would tolerate such affection from - at any age - is extremely small, limited only to his immediate family - Wei Ying, A-Yuan, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren (should he ever be the type to offer it). But as Lan Xichen releases him and reaches down to take his hand, as he leads him out of the children’s dormitories and onto the path outside, Lan Zhan realizes that there’s one person he hadn’t even considered as an option but who, especially in his current state, certainly tops the list.

“Mother,” he whispers with tears in his eyes as Madam Lan stands in the open door to the Jingshi, the familiar home still hers.

“Didi?” Lan Xichen asks, startled, as Lan Zhan pulls his hand from his but he doesn’t stop to answer - instead he runs across the courtyard as quickly as his legs can carry him and up the steps to fling himself into his mother’s arms. He likes to imagine that if he were physically the correct age he would be more composed, but he can’t say with complete certainty that that would be the case. His mother has always been special like that. She was the first to ever make him believe that he could be loved and accepted if he revealed the true depth of his feelings - no one else had been able to make him feel that way after her death until Wei Ying.

As it is, though, as young as he is - with all the tumultuous, too-large feelings of childhood despite the age of his soul - he promptly starts crying as he clings to her. Her hands are soft and gentle as she pets his hair and rubs his back precisely as he had done for A-Yuan as a boy, and Lan Zhan hiccups as he presses in closer.

“Zhan-er,” she says warmly above his head and all it does is make him cry a little harder, the tenderness of the greeting and the fact that he hasn’t heard it from a single soul in 32 years hitting him too hard for his little body to handle. “Oh dear,” she says next and he can hear her smiling, he can feel the way she’s suppressing a laugh in the slight shaking of her shoulder under his cheek and he clings.

“I think he had a nightmare last night,” Lan Xichen supplies apologetically as he approaches at the properly sedate pace.

“A good thing it’s your day to come visit, then,” she replies softly, implacably, and Lan Zhan nods his agreement as he hiccups and tries to compose himself with little success. “Come in, Huan-er, I’ve got breakfast for us. Let’s see if we can cheer your brother up together, hm?”

Lan Zhan’s stomach swoops as he’s scooped up while Madam Lan stands and he lets himself be carried into the house. He finally manages to get himself somewhat under control after a while of sitting in his mother’s lap and letting her dry his cheeks with her sleeves, but he’s still hiccuping and crying fresh tears every now and then.

He can’t help but stare. It’s been so long since he’s seen her face, and she’s just as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more so. She’s serene and gentle in a way he really never sees in anyone but perhaps Lan Xichen. Even A-Yuan, as sweet as he is, still carries the mischievous streak planted in him by Wei Wuxian and encouraged by a lifetime of friendship with Lan Jingyi. Whatever she’s done in the past, no matter what anyone else thinks of the incident that had led to her imprisonment, the woman she is now is so kind, so tender, that Lan Zhan has never once in his life understood the continuation of her imprisonment for so many years.

He watches with wide, solemn eyes as she steadily wipes his cheeks clean when fresh tears replace those that have already fallen, a perpetual little smile on her lips as she talks to Lan Xichen over his head to make sure they both get as much of her attention as they can in their limited time with her.

He eventually manages to stop crying entirely and he’s promptly plied with a bowl of rice for breakfast, which he obediently eats, his eyes still on Madam Lan. He doesn’t want to ever stop looking at her. He had never gotten to say a proper goodbye, had never gotten the closure he needed after her death (not that closure would have helped, most likely. If he’s proven anything to himself it’s that the death of those he loves is not something he handles all that well.)

The point is - his mother was ripped away from him with no warning, and now she’s been returned to him and he will never in this new life take her presence for granted.

As the day goes on and he settles, he can’t shake a feeling of deja vu. It isn’t until they’re nearly ready to leave for the evening that it strikes him.

This is their last day with her. He knows this day, when he had been younger he had replayed the events of it over and over in his mind, searching for something in his behavior that had upset Madam Lan to the point where she didn’t want to see him again. Before he had understood that she had died he had been so sure that it was his fault the door wouldn’t open anymore, that she was inside languishing in disappointment in her youngest son.

And so when Lan Xichen makes as if to bundle him off into the evening just after supper, Lan Zhan takes a page from A-Yuan’s book and sits down to lock his arms around her leg, every ounce of his considerable determination set in stern lines in his serious little face.

“Didi, we have to leave,” Lan Xichen prods - gently - as he kneels in front of him.

“No,” he protests, his voice petulant but he doesn’t care. He’s not letting her go. He’s here to fix things on a much larger scale than anyone around him can yet understand, but he’s going to begin with their mother. They will get to grow up with a mother this time, and a father too if he has anything to say about it. He can fix things for their family first and let the effect spread outwards from Cloud Recesses. A stone dropped into the center of a pool will create ripples that reach all the way to the edges, and if he begins with Madam Lan’s survival and perhaps her return to the world from her isolation, there’s no telling just yet how far such an influence will spread.

Even if it goes no further than their little family, he doesn’t care. He can fix this, so he will.

“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen tries next, reaching out to tug gently on his sleeve and he holds on tighter, buries his face in the skirts of Madam Lan’s robes.

“No!”

“It’s alright, Huan-er,” Madam Lan soothes as she drops a hand down to rest on top of his head. “Go on ahead, I’ll make sure Zhan-er gets returned to his rooms in time for curfew.”

Lan Zhan turns his head enough to open one eye so he can watch Lan Xichen have a bit of an internal debate before he nods and straightens up to accept one last hug before he turns to leave. The pair of them, Madam Lan and Lan Zhan, stay still and watch him until he disappears down the path and only then does Madam Lan bend down to put her hands under his arms and lift him up onto her hip. She offers him an indulgent look as she leans in to press their foreheads together and he relaxes instantly.

“Zhan-er, what’s gotten into you today, hm?” she asks softly as she shuts the door with her foot to carry him back inside, sitting down on the edge of her bed to set him down on her knees. It should feel strange, he supposes, to be treated like a child like this, picked up and carried around wherever someone else wants to take him. But he’s never known anything else in regards to his mother, he’s never gotten a chance to both be older than a toddler and to know her. In his memories, this is how he remembers her, and so it doesn’t feel strange at all to sit in her lap and study her face like he’s doing his best to memorize it.

“What’s wrong, Zhan-er?” she asks again, even more softly, as she brushes a few stray hairs back from his forehead and runs her thumb along the silk of his ribbon - it must be brand new for him at this age.

“You are going to die,” he says, deciding then and there that he doesn’t have the luxury of trying to find a way to fix things on his own while trying to hide that he’s really a fully-grown man with a husband and child of his own, that he carries a full life’s worth of pain and experiences. He and Wei Ying had agreed that no matter what happened with the array they wouldn’t tell anyone what they had done - it would defeat the purpose of fixing things, and there was also no guarantee that it wouldn’t do harm. In any other circumstance he would agree it’s better to be safe than sorry, but he’s so young - there’s not much he can do but talk to Madam Lan directly and allow her to handle the situation in his stead - or at least help him - without blowing his cover.

Madam Lan blinks down at him for a moment, a small furrow between her brows. How had he never noticed as a child that she doesn’t wear a headband?

“Who told you such a silly thing?” she asks with a hint of a smile and a little tap of her fingertip against the tip of his nose. “Is that what your nightmare was last night?”

“Mother,” he says as seriously as he can manage. (It’s very difficult to sound grave, he realizes, when he’s a literal 5-year-old [he even still has a bit of a childish lisp] but he needs her to understand.) “I have lived this before. This is the last day you will see Xiongzhang and myself. You are going to die. No one has ever told me how.”

Madam Lan blanches at that, though whether it’s because of what he said or because her 5-year-old son is speaking like an adult or a combination of both he isn’t sure.

“Zhan-er, what...what are you talking about?”

He takes a deep breath in and clambers down off her lap to straighten his robes and dust himself off before he offers her a deep bow.

“Mother, please listen to me and trust what I say. I am your son, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, current Chief Cultivator. I have already lived this life, and have returned to my childhood through the power of an experimental array I created with my husband, Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng Jiang.”

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan gasps and he looks up to find her definitely far too pale as he blinks owlishly up at her.

“If I leave tonight without warning you of danger, I fear this will once again be my last memory of you.”

The fear in her eyes makes him feel a bit like squirming with guilt for putting it there, but he holds himself still, watching for a sign that she believes him, that she’s taking him seriously. He knows what he must look like - if A-Yuan had ever suddenly started behaving like he is now he would have been very concerned that he had been possessed. Judging by the look on Madam Lan’s face, it’s entirely possible that that’s exactly what’s on her mind.

“Mother, please, you must believe me. Wei Ying and I wish to right the wrongs done to those around us, to live with no regrets. We have made many painful choices in our lives, as have all of those we care for. We have decided to attempt the impossible and rewrite the past.”

“You..But you....”

Lan Zhan stays still and watches as Madam Lan clearly tries to piece things together. He’s dismayed - though not entirely surprised - when she faints backwards onto the bed, but he supposes it’s better than if she had outright tried to say that he couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. He climbs up onto the bed to sit beside her and make sure she’s otherwise alright before he settles down to wait patiently for her to wake.

It doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and he can’t help but reach out to put the back of one small hand against her forehead to check her temperature when she blinks her eyes open.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as he watches her face go through a series of interesting emotions in quick succession.

She sits up slowly to look down at him with an expression that seems to have settled on something like incredulity and bemusement. “I think you must see why that question is not easily answered at the moment.”

“Mn. It is a strange situation, I understand,” he agrees solemnly with a nod. Madam Lan raises her sleeve to cover her mouth as she bites back a laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Oh Zhan-er,” she says - and then she’s laughing, truly laughing, one hand over her mouth and the other arm curled around her stomach as she laughs in a way that sounds just this side of manic. Years of being married to Wei Ying and he still doesn’t understand how to handle people who deal with their stress by laughing about it.

“Mother?”

“Oh dear, Zhan-er I’m sorry,” she laughs weakly as she wipes at her eyes. “This is just..Well as you said, this is very strange. And you’ve always been a serious child but this is..I’ve never seen a child behave this way!”

“I am 37.”

“Oh dear. Much too old for hugs, then,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes and Lan Zhan has to think about it for a long, dismayed moment before he realizes he’s being teased. He shakes his head ‘no’ and lets her pull him into her arms again to cradle him close, one arm wrapped around his back and the other over his bent knees to hold him in place. “37, hm?” she asks once they’re settled and Lan Zhan nods. “And married?”

“Yes, mother. I also have a son. He is 24.”

“My own baby, married and with a child, hm? And you said Chief Cultivator?”

“Mn. I do not enjoy such a public position but it is necessary.”

Madam Lan laughs at that, though it’s thankfully less frightening than her laughter at the situation as a whole had been. “I have never heard of such a thing but I can only imagine such a position involves quite a lot of talking to other Sect Leaders, which sounds very unpleasant.”

“Mn.”

They’re both quiet for a few long moments, lost in thought. Lan Zhan is only grateful that Madam Lan seems to believe him, and when she breaks the silence again it becomes clear that that is actually the case.

“You said I am going to die soon,” she murmurs and Lan Zhan can’t resist cuddling closer as the pain of losing her flares too hot, too sharp through him.

“I remember this day,” he replies after a few deep breaths and a chance to gather his thoughts. “It is the last day we were allowed to visit. I do not know when, precisely, you passed away, but by the next appointment we were no longer allowed to visit, and...when I came to kneel anyway every month after, your door never opened for me.”

“And you are telling me all of this now to prevent it happening again.”

“Mm. Wei Ying and I performed the spell last night, I am still becoming accustomed to being a child again. I apologize for my outbursts, it is..difficult to control my emotions while so young.”

“Zhan-er, you never have to apologize to me for your feelings,” Madam Lan chastises gently. “No matter your age. I have never wanted you and Huan-er to be raised so..rigidly.”

“Who is keeping you imprisoned?” Lan Zhan asks softly - a question that’s been on his mind since he had been this age originally, and which no one has ever sufficiently answered for him. “Xiongzhang and I always wished we could be raised by you.”

Madam Lan sighs heavily at that and holds him a little tighter. “Qiren is so strict with you two,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “I’ve tried telling your father that you two are growing up to be so serious, so unhappy, but he won’t hear of it. He’s technically the one keeping me here, though I suspect it’s the clan elders speaking through him.”

Lan Zhan can’t help but glare at the wall when the elders are mentioned. The only other person in the world he wishes to argue with as much as he does the elders is Jiang Wanyin.

“I will fix it,” he vows with grim determination.

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan instantly chastises and he shakes his head, already intent on arguing whatever point she feels needs to be made.

“I will not lose my mother again. The elders have gone too long without challenge. There are many many good things about the Lan that do not need to change, but there are a great many traditions that have become harmful in their execution at least, if not in nature or original intent. I will fix it.”

“You deserve to have a childhood,” Madam Lan argues right back, equally adamant. “It is your father’s duty to lead the Sect, the elders only advise.”

“Uncle is the acting leader of the Sect,” Lan Zhan retorts with a deepening of his frown, this time in confusion. He leans back to look up at Madam Lan, who’s blinking down at him in something like surprise, if a bit muted. “Father is in seclusion, he never again ran the Sect before his death during my boyhood.”

Lan Zhan stays quiet as he watches Madam Lan think through that, wondering just what exactly she’s thinking. Perhaps comparing what she thought she knew to this new information?

It seems that may be the case when she quietly murmurs,“Well that..that does change a few things,” after a long while, her eyes distant. “Maybe we should compromise. You can tell me what you know, and perhaps what you plan to do in regards to the elders, and I will do my best to listen and perhaps together we can come up with something that will work. Does that sound alright?”

Compromise. Lan Zhan hates compromise, has hated it with a passion since the day he watched the Sect Leaders of his youth decide that ‘compromise’ meant ‘kill Wei Wuxian’, and he definitely hasn’t grown any fonder of it since it’s become his turn to ‘compromise’ with many of those same Sect Leaders on a near daily basis as the Chief Cultivator. But these are, he will admit, wildly different circumstances, and for a much better purpose than yet another boundary dispute or arguing over who should receive more disciples from the local families.

He nods and opens his mouth to begin the story at the beginning - and yawns so widely his jaw gives a tiny little pop.

“Oh dear,” Madam Lan chuckles as she snuggles him tighter and rocks him slightly back and forth. It’s shocking how heavy his eyelids feel all of the sudden as she does so and he huffs a sigh with an accompanying pout, irritated with his young body that apparently tires far too quickly. “I believe our plan shall have to wait until morning. You’ve had a long day.”

“Being a child is frustrating,” he confesses and Madam Lan laughs her bright, bell-like laugh - hearing it has always been one of his most treasured memories and to hear it now again in the flesh makes him so happy his irritation with his youthful limitations dissipates in an instant.

“I would imagine so. What an interesting puzzle you are, my Zhan-er,” she sighs as she continues rocking him gently, the repetitive swaying motion dragging his eyelids further and further down despite his best attempts to stay awake. “Such an old soul in the body of a child. So wise and self-assured like an adult, and yet quick to fluster, quick to cry, just like a child. I can only imagine how frustrated you must be.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan manages to hum even as he slips further down into her lap to rest his head in the crook of her elbow, getting comfortable.

“Go to sleep, Zhan-er. We’ll figure this out in the morning, alright? You’re not going to lose me again, I’m here.”

Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep in his mother’s arms for the first time in his life that he can remember, and it’s mercifully deep and dreamless.

----

When Lan Zhan wakes in the morning it’s with a gasp and the vague fear that his mother has, despite his best intentions, died inexplicably once again in the middle of the night. He sits up quickly and looks around the Jingshi just as the gong tolls and he only relaxes when he realizes that she had made him a little nest of blankets to rest in on the outer edge of the bed while she had taken the inside beneath the window.

He clambers down out of bed to go about getting ready for the day. He locates his ribbon where Madam Lan had removed it for him and carefully coiled it into a neat loop; he’s moments away from putting it on before he sets it down again to wait. Wei Ying likes to put it on for him these days - or rather, he supposes, in the future (this is going to give him a headache) - and while Wei Ying can’t do it for him right now, he feels it would be equally as special to ask his mother to help him with it instead.

He explores the Jingshi, acquainting himself with how Madam Lan organizes the familiar space. He finds basic food stored near the small hearth the house had contained before he had modified it himself to accommodate cooking for A-Yuan as a boy, and he takes a moment to set out what they’ll need for breakfast before he withdraws again to meditate. Perhaps, he supposes, if he can center himself and calm his energy he’ll be able to avoid further emotional outbursts. If he’s going to tell his mother all the details of his first life while so emotionally volatile, it’s going to be a very long day indeed. He’ll appreciate beginning it more at peace than he had begun the day before.

He settles into the familiar pattern of breathing and being, just..existing, doing his best to feel and let go, to accept that this is his reality now. He’s starting his life over. He can try again. He can not only avert the broad tragedies that had affected the world at large, he can also repair his own life.

The most obvious personal change will be that he can openly love Wei Ying from the moment they see each other again. He can live an entire lifetime with his beloved at his side, his other half, the bright sun to his distant moon.

Perhaps less obvious of a consequence but one that he suddenly realizes he wants just as badly - he can be closer to his family. Raising A-Yuan had taught him much about the sort of family he wanted to have. The closeness, the affection, the warmth present in their home even when he had been outwardly as cool and aloof as ever. He had never let A-Yuan believe for a moment that he wasn’t adored, he had taught him how to see Lan Zhan’s love for him, had taught him that it was boundless, had taught him to turn that love outwards in a way that Lan Zhan had never been allowed to. He had raised their son to be sweet and kind to everyone he met, Wei Ying had taught him to smile and laugh and to understand so he could forgive.

He can do that again, but this time he’ll start with the members of his family he had been too late to understand the first time. He can help guide Lan Xichen through the confusing mires of childhood, attempt to create an even closer relationship between them than in their first life - a relationship in which they’re free to just be brothers and Lan Xichen doesn’t have the weight of being his Sect Leader on his shoulders as well. He can ensure that they get to grow up with a mother to guide them, her gentle affection thawing the cold austerity the Lan push their children into. He can save Father, he can keep Uncle from becoming bitter and overly rigid in his ways. There’s so much time stretching out ahead of them, he’s sure he can repair their fractured little family and help nurture it into something beautiful.

“Zhan-er?” Madam Lan calls some time later and Lan Zhan opens his eyes to find her already ready for the day with his ribbon in her hands, her expression a question.

“My hands are still clumsy with childhood,” he replies solemnly, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Will you tie it for me?”

“Of course,” she agrees with a faint hint of a smile. “May I assume you’re still an adult in there?” she teases gently as she knees behind him to start threading the ribbon through his simple hairstyle and tie it securely.

“Mn. I am making plans.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

Lan Zhan hums his acknowledgement just as she finishes tying his ribbon and he can’t help but relax when she puts her hands on his shoulders to smooth out the fabric of his little robes and sweep his hair properly behind his neck. They’re interrupted by a sudden knock at the door and Lan Zhan frowns, though Madam Lan doesn’t seem surprised at all. Rather she stands and crosses the house with graceful steps and after a moment Lan Zhan stands to drift after her silently.

“Lan Qiren,” she greets with ice in her voice as soon as the door opens and Lan Zhan blinks in surprise. Uncle? He had always thought that Lan Qiren never approached the Jingshi while it was still Madam Lan’s residence - he and Lan Xichen had been making the journey to it from the dormitories unaccompanied since the visits began, and he supposes now that he had just..never bothered to wonder who else came to see Madam Lan besides them and the servants who tended to her. She doesn’t sound surprised, though, to have Lan Qiren on her doorstep, so it must not have been entirely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wen Yun.”

Wen Yun? Wen?

Lan Zhan feels like he just got hit with a hammer between the eyes.

He had never known his mother’s name. Perhaps most people would find that strange, but Lan Zhan had never truly questioned it (beyond wishing that he did know it). She was a criminal in the eyes of the Lan Sect after all; certainly no one had ever thought to tell him her given name when he had been a child, and by the time he was old enough to know he hadn’t known who or how to ask. She wasn’t even in the clan records - or in the ancestral shrine - as anything but Madam Lan, reduced to nothing more than her married title that she hadn’t even wanted. The disrespect of it still rankles him to this day. But..

Wen Yun. She’s a Wen. He is a Wen, certainly by blood if never knowingly by name. That’s..an interesting thing to process. Even more interesting that Lan Qiren has known, all this time, and had never breathed a word of it to anyone that Lan Zhan was aware of, even before the Wens’ destruction during the Sunshot Campaign. He hadn’t expected to be quite so caught off guard by anything he could learn by returning to his childhood, considering he had already lived it once, but clearly he’s going to need to rethink that very quickly.

“Wangji.” Lan Qiren’s voice is sharp, remonstrative, and Lan Zhan instantly focuses on the present again. He can’t, under any circumstances, let Lan Qiren know that he is who he is, but he also can’t help but feel an all-too-familiar surge of (perhaps slightly petty) rebellion in his chest at that tone of voice, at being scolded like the young child he outwardly appears to be. He looks up at Lan Qiren impassively, his face solemn, as he holds his hand up for Madam Lan to take. As he is intimately aware, there’s no time like the present to begin changing things for the better.

Madam Lan slips her hand into his instantly, giving his fingers a little squeeze, and Lan Zhan sets his jaw stubbornly. He’s got an ally in her, and he’s nearly forty years old. He can face down Lan Qiren, he’s done it plenty of times already for what he thinks is right.

“Wangji, let go. Your time to visit your mother is long over.”

Lan Zhan watches Lan Qiren’s anger with a detached sort of interest, tipping his head slightly to the side and shuffling closer to Madam Lan’s skirts as if to hide in them, though of course he isn’t in the least afraid.

“Staying,” he announces with all the gravity he can muster. He really wishes in that moment that he could sound at least somewhat closer to his actual age rather than having to do his best with the sweet, high voice of childhood, but oh well. It still clearly startles Lan Qiren, that he would talk back, and Lan Wangji meets his gaze evenly.

“Wangji!”

“I will be raising my son from now on,” Madam Lan suddenly declares. “Huan-er as well, if he wants me to.”

Lan Qiren splutters in a way that Lan Zhan finds...kind of funny, actually. He’s only ever known Lan Qiren as stoic (with a small range of other emotions couched within that stoicism) or angry, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so...gobsmacked.

“You - the elders -“

“Oh, I didn’t realize the elders had taken over raising them,” Madam Lan replies with ‘innocent’ curiosity. “I was under the impression that they were still your responsibility, Qiren, and that concerns about their upbringing should be brought to your feet.”

Lan Qiren huffs out a frustrated sigh and Lan Zhan tips his head to the other side as he watches, able to study Lan Qiren with all the experience of a full life spent as his ward.

He knows, of course, that Lan Qiren loves him and Lan Xichen as if they’re his own children, and that that affection started when they were handed off to him as mere infants, just old enough to leave the wet nurses. By this point in time, Lan Qiren has had five years to raise Lan Wangji and eight for Lan Xichen - that affection for them is clearly already firmly in place. After all, it’s Lan Qiren who had held them when they were too young to walk on their own yet, who had rocked them to sleep and taught them their first lessons - how to talk, how to eat, how to read, how to count.

But Lan Zhan also knows that Lan Qiren is already a much stricter hand than they really need. He’s spent a lot of time meditating on the peculiarities Lan Qiren had possessed as a parental figure, and while he still can’t conclusively point to the root of his behaviors, he already knows how it will end if allowed to continue - with Lan Zhan himself cold and rigid but for a small handful of people whom he still struggles to show outward affection towards, and with Lan Xichen pouring kindness and gentleness out onto others to soften the blows of the world until he’s left with none to offer himself.

Lan Zhan knows Lan Qiren loves them, but he also knows that that love could be shown in much healthier ways if they’re all allowed to recover.

“The elders won’t ever allow this,” Lan Qiren finally snaps, his eyes flickering briefly down to Lan Zhan and then back up to Madam Lan. “And I won’t plead your case.”

“Oh,” she says idly. “Well that’s a shame, then, I would have appreciated the support.” Lan Zhan looks up as his mother looks down at him and he can’t help but feel safe as she offers him a quick wink, out of Lan Qiren’s view. “I guess Zhan-er and I will have to make our case to the elders ourselves.”

Lan Zhan nods once at that and squeezes her hand to let her know it’s alright with him and Ford into his plans.

“Wangji?” Lan Qiren prompts and Lan Zhan looks up at him, reads the fear behind the indignation, the hurt feelings behind his censure. But with the foresight that Lan Zhan has, he trusts that if they change this, if they give his mother a reason to live again, that everyone in their family will be better for it. Happier.

A little pain is necessary for growth and change - an old tree must fall to allow the new to grow, the winter snows have to come and melt away again to refresh and awaken the world properly in the spring.

Lan Zhan lets go of Madam Lan’s hand to step forward and wrap his arms around Lan Qiren’s leg, holding onto him tightly and hugging him with all the strength and affection he can muster for the man for a long moment - a goodbye to the man who had raised him, who will soon become a different man than Lan Zhan knows - before he lets go again to take his mother’s hand and lead her back into the Jingshi.

She shuts the door gently with Lan Qiren standing shocked on the other side of it.

They have plans to make, and time is of the essence.

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji #Lan Xichen #Madam Lan #Lan Qiren #if you want a giggle read Lan Zhan's 'I'm 37' line in the same tone of voice as that guy in the vine who says 'I'm 27? :D"#also - if I do end up turning this into a fic I don't think I'll be able to do a multichaptered straight narrative fic like AEM #it takes a lot of time and energy which I'm currently putting into my modern 3zun AU and my next planned full fic is actually the sequel to #my fic 'You Need Tending' - the wangxian children fix-it #BUT - it would be something like a chronological series of scenes that are more or less a cohesive timeline from the time wangxian are 5 #up to the 'present day' - as in up to the time when they're 37 and AEM begins #siiiiiiiiiiiigh adding it to my list of wiiiiiiips lol #we shall see we shall see #prompt fill

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alice-angel12x · 4 years

Text

Azul X mermaid reader

A long time ago under the sea, the mermaid was wandering the great shipwreck zones. The sunken ship was littered all over the ground, all with some sort of hidden treasure. A young h/c haired mermaid about the age of 6, she had many frilly fins and a jellyfish cap that floated over her head.

She wondered the grounds as she picked any interesting looking items and plants. As she wondered the dark are of the ocean she felt something stalking her. She turned to see a large scared up shark eyeing her down as it swam circles around the mermaid.

Y/n's body tensed as she readied herself, and quickly dashed away. The shark quickly gave chase to its prey. Y/n swam with all her might as she made her way back to the kingdom. As she ran she saw a small opening in the side of a rock, just big enough for her to fit into.

Without hesitation, she dove into the hole. She got inside up instead of hitting a solid was, she felt something squishy.

"OUCH!" Groaned a voice. "Who ARE YO-"

"SHHH!" Y/n said as she covers the person's mouth.

They sat in the dark for a while till they noticed a dark shadow covered the hole, as an eye started in the hole. Suddenly Y/n felt a pair of arms wrap around her as someone started to tremble. It felt like an eternity, but eventually, the preditor left. The two sat in the darkness for a good while till Y/n finally decided to poke her head out of the hole to check to see if it was safe. The coast was clear as Y/n wiggled her way out of the hole.

"Sorry for startling you like I did," Y/n apologized.

"It's...Fine," Said a shy voice.

"I'm y/n by the way. Thank you for letting me hide with you," Y/n smiled.

"Kay. I'm Azul," The voice said shyly.

"Are you gonna come out?" Y/n asked.

"N-no!" The voice stuttered.

"Eh, why not?" Y/n asked again.

"Cause you make fun of me," The voice said, almost in a sob.

"Why would I do that?" Y/n asked as she tilted her head.

"Cause everyone else does," The voice said with a small shout.

"Well... I'm not everyone else, no one likes me either. We can be outcasts together," Y/n said with a smile.

the voice sighed as an 8 legged figure crawled out of the hole, It was an Octopus boy. He looked sad as he came into the light and seemed to wait for some awful reaction. Y/n stared with an unreadable expression, when suddenly.

"AWWWW! You're SO CUTE!♥" Y/N gasped as she hugged the cubby Octopus boy.

(Azul.exe has stopped working)

Azul chubby cheeks were lobster red as he felt this girl drown him in affection. He's never experienced this much affection before, or ever. He just didn't know how to react.

"P-please let go?" Azul stuttered as his heart fluttered in his chest.

"Oh, sorry. Your just the cutest thing," Y/n gushed, with heart sin her eyes.

"Y-you think I'm cute?"Azul asked surprised.

"Yep, so cute and squishy," She sighed as she pinched his cheeks.

But he didn't care for the first time someone was smiling at him. Not a smile of malice, a real pure smile. Know that she was close he could see strange patterns on her cheeks and the Jellyfish cap over her head really would make her stand out. His eyes slowly trailed down to her F/c tail. She had long frilly fins, that must make it difficult to swim fast.

"So what are you doing al the way out here, you also out here to escape the meanies," Y/n asked as she finally let go of Azul's face.

"For the most part, I just hang out here to study and to perfect my magic! I'll show them just how impressive I can be!" Azul shouted determinedly.

"wow, you must be pretty smart and awesome with magic then. I wish I could say the same for myself," Y/n sighed.

"With magic or the studies?" Azul asked as he slowly slides back into his hiding hole.

"Magic, I have a hard time controlling my magic. I can't cast magic like everyone else. Just today my teacher said to never return after I made her age 40 years. It was just an accident, my magic just went wild," Y/n frowned as she laid down on the squishy sand.

Azul simply stared at Y/n, not knowing what to say to her. His heart went out to her. With a shaky breath, Azul poked his head out of his hiding hole.

"I-If you want help I-I can help," Azul offered as he quickly pulled his head back into the hole.

"You will, Thank you!" Y/n smiled.

Azul's cheeks turned a light red as he watched her swim off into the distance. She won't come, he thought to himself. But to his surprise, she did return the next day, just like the day after that, and after that.

----------

(Middle school years)

Azul for the first time had a friend. She too was outcasted, to the other merpeople, she was just odd. She looked more like a jellyfish more than a mer, she was no good with magic and had the strangest markings on her face. So she would spend most of her time with Azul, watching him perfect his magic, and gathering Info on those who wronged him.

"I did it!" Azul said with pride.

"You finished it?" Y/n smiled as Azul showed off his golden scroll.

"Beautiful isn't it, If someone signs this than I can have anything I want from them," Azul smirked.

"Let's test it out!" Y/n said with excitement.

"Wait, what?!" Azul asked nervesly.

"I know the best practice subject," Y/n smiled as she grabbed Azul's hand.

-----------

"This is amazing, with this I could rule the world," Azul laughed.

"So I bet you going to start with Night Raven Academy," Y/n said.

The two were hanging out in Y/n's treasure cave, or junk cavern if you ask Azul. Y/n was placing all her found treasures on the shelves when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?" Azul demanded as he inspected Y/n's back wounds.

"Oh some girls pushed me into a sea urchin, It's fine Azul. I'm used to it," Y/n smiled sadly as she continued to sort her treasure.

"This is not fine, tell me who they are. I can make them pay," Azul growled.

"What, Someone is hurting our jellyfish," Said a familiar voice.

"So who is it we need to hunt down?" asked jade as he and his brother slithered into the cavern.

"Don't know. I don't know their names," Y/n said simply as she slowly sank to the sand ground.

"Y/n just describe them to me, I can use my magic on them," Azul said as he held her scarred arms.

"It's the... three girls... The new leading singers in the school music club," Y/n sighed as she looked away from Azul.

"Why would the get physical with you?" Jade asked.

"I wanted to be apart of the singing group, they didn't want me competing so they... Did what they did," Y/n said as she slowly started to tear up.

"I never heard you sing before, When did this interest come about?" Jade asked with a smile.

"I always like to sing, but I had to be careful because that is the only I can activate my magic. But thanks to Azul, I have better control and now I can sing more freely," Y/n smiled as she tried to wipe away her tears.

"Oh. Why don't you sing for us, Jellyfish?" Floyd asked as Y/n's cheeks turned a light red.

With a sigh, Y/n cleared her throat and sang.

Azul could feel his heart flutter in his chest as he listened to Y/n's simple song. His fists tightened as he felt his anger towards those awful started to grow. When he rules the world, he'll rule with Y/n and the twins by his side, Azul promised himself.

--------

(5 years later)

I've noticed that Y/n has been spending more and more at the surface, which I find more and more concerning. What if she gets caught by humans or worse. She may be slightly faster than me, but that's still not enough to getaway. She should just day down here where it's safer.

"Y/n is late again," Jade sighed.

"I'm here! I'm Here!" Called out a voice.

In the distance Y/n quickly as she could, swam over to us.

"Your late again. You know I could not help you with the finals," I sighed in annoyance as Iset down the study material.

"And that's why your the best Senpai," Y/n smiled as she wraps her arms around my neck in a hug.

I can feel my cheeks heat up as I looked away bashfully.

"Okay, that's enough," I said as I tried to compose myself.

"What got you distracted this time, Jellyfish?" Floyd asked.

"I saw another strange-looking ship today, and it was playing the most beautiful music," Y/n sighed as she started to hum the melody.

Why does she go the surface so much, It's so dangerous up there. I could feel my heart squeeze and twist.

"Anyways we need to get studying," I said trying to get her mind out of the clouds.

"Okay," all three of them said.

They lasted only one hour until they demanded to take a 30-minute break. I simply sat on the side as I watched them play catch with a small clam they found. They simply tossed it to each other Floyd flung it to high it nearly went to the surface, but Y/n managed to catch it.

"I caught it," Y/n said proudly.

They slowly started to play higher and higher to the surface. I think it was about rime fir them to stop. I tried to call out to them, but they were too far away. So with a sigh, I had to swim up to them and tell them to get back to studying, but suddenly a school of Fish started dash past us. It became too hard to see what was happening, but I managed to get out of the school with Jade and Floyd.

-------

"What was's Y/n-!"

"AAHH!" a scream cut Azul off.

They looked above to see Y/n was caught up in the net that was about to be pulled up out of the water.

"Y/n!" Azul cried out as he swam up.

The gapes between the ropes were too small for even Y/n's small hands to fit through. Y/n tugged and pulled at the ropes, trying with all of her strength to maybe rip them. She didn't care that the ropes were cutting her hands. The ropes wouldn't break, and she slowly began to give up, when suddenly three pairs of hands grabbed at the ropes.

"Y/n! Just hold on!" Azul said as he tried his luck at the ropes.

The net started to breach the surface and the friends started to panic as they pulled at the rope with even more vigor. Floyd managed to bit through one, but that only made enough space to fit her arm through. Azul quickly held her wrist tightly as the continued to pull at the tough rope. Y/n looked up to see that 90% of the net was already above the water, Hope quickly left her eyes as she gave one last sad smile at her friends.

"I guess this is it," Y/n laughed sadly as she surrendered to her fate.

"Y/n Don't say things like that?!" Azul cried out.

"Jade, Floyd, don't get into too much trouble okay. And Azul, thank you for being my friend," Y/n smiled.

"Y/N!" The called out.

Y/n released Azul's arm as she slipped from his grasp as she was pulled above the surface. Befor they could follow a palace guard quickly grabbed the young teens and pulled them back to the safety of Atlantice.

"hey Azul, are you kay?" Jade asked.

"Gone... She's...Y/n is gone," Azul repeated over and over

And just like that she was gone, the twins looked down at the octo-mer, who was just sitting and staring at his hands with misty eyes. Atlatics was in lock down till the boats left, and by then The humans that took Y/n were long gone.

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

(3 years later)

What is this? Why is it so dark? What happened to my clothes? I'm wearing robes. W-why Is it so Hot in here!? Suddenly blue light filled my vision as a plain looking boy came into my line of sight as he offered me a hand. I quickly grabbed his hand, and he pulled me up to see I was in a room full of mirrors, coffins, and blue fire.

"Let's get out of here," He said as he dragged me out of the room.

Where am I and How did I get here.

"Umm, Who are you?" I asked the boy.

"My name is Yuu, what about you?" Yuu asked.

"I-I am Y/n," I said with a nerves smile.

___

Part 2??

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x you

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

bed thief

Butterflies and bandaids: chapt-5

Bed thief-

••

"Harry?" Y/n called out his name as she walked up the steps of his home, his mum bidding her a goodbye as she left for work as she came in the house.

She heard nothing in response, reaching the top of the steps and making her way to his cramped little room. A room she loves just as much as he loves hers.

There she spied the boy, still asleep with his hair fanned around his head messily, lips slightly parted with even breaths coming between them gently.

The girl couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight. He always looked so beautiful, even when sleeping. Unlike her who looks like a wreck even after a 15 minute power nap. Harry just had a way to always look beautiful.

She made her way quietly into his room, gently nudging him to wake him enough for him to know she's there getting a muffled 'hmph' in return.

"It's me h, didn't wanna scare ya'"

She heard a faint grunt of acknowledgment while he was still in dreamland, smiling to herself and slipping her shoes off crawling under his covers with him.

Even while asleep he still wrapped an arm around her instinctively, getting a content sigh from her as she drifted off with him, nuzzling her face into his warm bare chest.

••

When Y/n cracked her eyes open for the second time that day she was greeted with the afternoon light shining through the window, and her best friend scrolling through his Instagram while still holding her to his side.

"Mornin' sweetheart" he mumbled, his voice still deep and grainy from sleep but she still loved it.

"What time is it?" She shifted a bit and rubbed her eyes, licking over her lips and yawning.

"1:30, when did you get here?"

"8 this morning, Anne left for work when I got here. Found you and decided to join you in dreamland." She pushed her baby hairs behind her ears and he hummed.

"Just woke up myself, funny enough wasn't even surprised when I realized you were in here. So used to waking up with an intruder in my sheets." He smiled at her and she giggled quietly

"I like your bed, plus can always fall asleep easy here, no babies screaming to wake me up."

She let out a content sigh and she tossed herself back onto his mattress breathing in his sheets, they smelled like him. It was her favorite smell.

He chuckled to himself watching her, everything she did was adorable to him. He could watch her make toast and find it precious.

"Almost convinced you're only friends with me for my bed"

"That's one of the many reasons. C'mere give me a cuddle H, I'm a bit sad today."

His ears perked up hearing the last part, already on board just for the snuggle time but the last part had him leaping into action. Big arms circling around her tiny frame, tugging her back into his chest resting his chin on her shoulder.

"What seems to be the matter love?"

His fingers gently rubbed her wrist as he breathed in her rose scented hair, not minding the tickle of those unruly curls on his face.

"I guess it's a bit silly, but...I feel...lonely. Eli ghosted me after we hung out...realized after I spent a while doing stuff with him that...I didn't really like him...wished he was someone else the entire time, and I know that I can never really have that person so I'm just feeling really sad...and feel lonely deep down."

The poor girl unloaded a lot in her answer, Harry took a minute to digest everything she just said, giving her a hum to let her know he's listening and thinking.

When he finally gathered his thoughts he cleared his throat and held her a little tighter.

"Well, i don't think it's silly. I think those feelings are valid love. I'm sorry that you're feeling that way...what happened between you and Eli?"

He made sure to speak softly so he doesn't make her nervous. He knows she has trouble opening up, so he's learned the best way to get her to vent.

Y/N let out a little sigh, shifting a bit in his hold before answering.

"I went to his house to hangout and we ended up kissing, fooling around a little. Nothing past like over the clothes grinding or whatever, but I felt really distracted the whole time. Could only think about one person I wished it was them the entire time and it made me feel so guilty and sad. I eventually just pushed off him and told him I wasn't feeling it, he of course was all 'cmon, I'm hard don't leave me hanging' 'I'll get you into it promise' but I just left. He hasn't texted me since and I feel really bad."

Harry nodded against her, giving her a reassuring squeeze before kissing her temple.

"Well I'm proud of you for not giving in to him, and I'm happy you came to me. Love you lots, like when you come to me. Makes me feel better. Who were you thinking about love?"

He felt her go a bit stiff in his hold, feeling her muscles tense up and her rib cage rattle with a shaky breath.

"Doesn't matter, no point in saying it. It's never gonna happen...it would hurt worse if I talked about him. I'd lose a lot."

The young girls mind was racing, anxiety taking over her. She knew she couldn't tell him that the boy was him. She knew if she did, she'd lose him. He's told her over and over how she's still a little girl to him, how she's his best friend. He wouldn't want her, if she told him he'd probably stop talking to her just like Eli. She couldn't handle losing her Harry. She was willing to keep her feelings stuffed down for the sake of getting to keep Harry in her life any way she can.

Even when it hurts to be in the place she's in.

The boy raised an eyebrow and grunted in response, taking a moment to think. His brain was filled with the same thoughts. Harry wasn't dumb, he was putting 2 and 2 together, but at the same time he has the same hesitation. He still believes partly that he doesn't have a shot with her, she'd never see him that way.

But right now, a little stroke of intuition made him believe that she really was talking about him. And honestly he didn't know how to approach the situation, from both the view point of it's not him, and it is him.

They both were just as confused as each other. Two kids with feelings they don't truly understand. Emotions run high at their age, hormones rage even harder. Both of them were in the same little cloud of confusion.

The boy finally decided to turn his best friend over onto her back, leaning on his elbow so he's on his side and able to look down at her.

"Do I know this person?"

He decided he'd gently pry to get more information, knowing he would be able to eventually get to the bottom of it.

He kept his eyes on hers as she nodded silently, giving her a hum in response.

"How old are they?"

He took notice as she blinked a little faster, her lashes almost making an audible fluttering in the silence of his bedroom.

"...16" her nervous voice was quiet, hand coming up to her mouth to nervously chew on her fingers. A bad habit she's had since she was little.

He gently took her fist in his, coaxing her fingers away from her teeth and tucking them in and holding her hand in both of his.

"Are you close to this person?"

"Very...they mean the world to me...it's why I'm so afraid"

He could see her eyes go glossy as she answered each question. Nervous, scared, and he realized she probably started to see he was putting the pieces together.

"Is this person...me?"

He decided to just bite the bullet. Just ask, get the truth. And her big eyes instantly filling with tears and lip quivering, gave him his answer.

He watched the tears start to spill over the sides of her face, wetting her hair and ears on their way to soak the pillow, a sniffle breaking the silence before she shakily spoke

"I'm sorry...p-please don't le-leave me...please I'm s-so sorry Harry p-please...I n-need you please d-don't leave me!"

A pout grew on his face as he watched her start to panic, begging him to stick with her as if she wasn't his best friend over everything. The poor girl was petrified and he was just as nervous. He liked her, he loved the girl and his mind was still trying to process that she liked him back. Trying to figure out what to do.

But Y/N took his sudden silence and blank stare as rejection, her stomach instantly twisting and throat constricting. She was trying to prepare herself to leave the house, and never get to come back but her mind couldn't fathom the idea.

"I-I'm Sorry...I-I'll leave ill g-go I'm s-Sorry"

She squirmed under him, taking her hand from his and sitting up, her sobs shaking the bed frame as he scrambled to speak while finding himself completely tongue tied.

She stood up on shaky legs, sobs violently shaking her body as she grabbed her shoes too distraught to even put them on, turning to him and giving him a heart broken forced smile preparing herself to say goodbye to him, and as soon as he saw her lips start to form the 'g' he seemed to snap out of his haze.

He instantly jumped into action, wrapping his hand around her wrist keeping her in place while he gets on his knees on his mattress. He planted both hands on her wet cheeks and pulled her forward giving her a gentle kiss, her lips all red and swollen from her nervously biting them while crying, they were extra warm from the irritation but he didn't care.

He tugged her back onto the bed while keeping an iron grip on her, kissing all over her face and shushing her

"Not going anywhere love, like you too. So so so much. I love you, could never leave. I'm right here darling, deep breaths cmon. I like you too honey, swear by it. Don't need to cry, it's okay. Everything's okay."

Y/n was shocked and overwhelmed to put it simply, her mind racing just as fast as her heart. Little hands clutching onto him with a death grip, trying to stop her hiccuping sobs while he did his best to soothe her.

Sweet whispers and coaxing in her ears coupled with the tight hold he had on her slowly, but surely got her to calm down enough to where he wasn't worried about her passing out like she has in the past when she works herself up enough.

He wiped under her eyes, kissing her cheeks and brow bone as he grabs a tissue from the box on his nightstand to wipe her nose and cheeks, gently pecking her lips every so often.

He sat her up and held the tissue on her nose prompting her to blow, which she did. He folded the tissue and wiped her red rimmed nose tossing it in the trash before getting another making sure she clears out her sore nostrils. He wanted to make sure she could get enough air, and lose the uncomfortable congested feeling in her face.

Y/N felt safe. She felt cared for, his gentle hands cleaning her up, talking softly to her while he takes care of his girl.

Harry felt a sense of comfort wash over him when she started to calm down, leaning into his touch while taking more even breaths starting to come back down from her anxiety attack.

She leaned herself into him, face in his neck as her teeth started to chatter. The adrenaline rushing through her giving her the jitters after she gets so worked up, being soothed by his steady stroking of her back and soft speaking in her ear.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, you're okay. Never gonna let anything bad happen to you sweetheart."

••

After an hour of jitters and death grips on each other, Y/n was able to take her first truly steady breath looking at her best friend, resting her forehead on his.

"Did you mean it Harry? You like me too?"

Her gentle tone is just as angelic as it was when she was 4, it melted his heart.

"Name a single time I've lied to you love. Course I mean it, would never lie about something like this. Wouldn't lie to you period."

His hands gently ran up and down the expanse of her back, her muscles relaxing under his touch. Her body finally losing its tension, melting into his as she gently kissed the boy.

The loneliness suddenly a distant memory as she felt him kiss her back.

#harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles tpwk #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #older!harry #younger!yn #bestfriend!harry

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years

Text

Small Time Witch (23)

...haunted

Main Street is lined with cute little bars and restaurants. On most nights they were pleasantly crowded. You and Loki would frequent such establishments and you had gotten to know some of their patrons. After the snap, some of the little bars were shuttered. The ones that were still open were far less lively. People would gather to commiserate, to cry. Mostly people were tired of drinking alone.

At least twice a week you would ride your bike to Captain Kidd’s Inn and drain half a bottle of Jameson with the bar tender Jason. He lost his wife in the snap. You would usually stay until last call which happened to be whenever Jason felt like closing up. He would offer to take you home and you’d usually end up fucking.

There was absolutely nothing behind it. The two of you just needed to feel. Some nights it would be quick and dirty then he’d leave. Neither of you would say a word. Most of the time you didn’t even get undressed. On some occasions you would drink more then pass out in bed together.

You didn’t sleep in the master bedroom with him. You stayed in Thor’s massive bed where the two of you could sleep as far apart as possible. It was nice to feel the mattress sag with his weight. Occasionally you would sleep on his chest when you really needed it. He never pushed you away. Sometimes he would rest on your stomach and cry silently in the dark.

Anytime he spent the night, you dreamt of Loki. The first time it happened he didn’t say anything. He just looked displeased. When it happened more frequently he began to make comments. He mentioned how you stunk of whiskey or how he hated seeing you with another man. You never answered him. It was just a dream.

After the tenth time you decided to bite back. “You’re dead. You left me. You don’t have the right to be angry at me. Piss off, ghost.”

It took him a while but he finally summoned enough power to manifest a spectral version of himself. When Jason left Loki appeared. It was only for a moment. You didn’t trust your eyes. You threw back some water and headache medicine and retired to the couch.

A few days later you noticed the bedroom door was open. You only ever went in there to grab new clothes. You didn’t shower in your bathroom and you never disturbed the bed. When you left the room you always locked the door. When you went to close it you swore you saw him sitting in your chair in your reading nook. You felt too ashamed to go to the bar after that.

Jason texted to see if you would be around. You thought about ignoring him but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You just said you needed some alone time. He said he’d be by later to check on you.

That’s what people did now. They checked on each other. At around 12:30 there was a knock on your door. It wasn’t Jason on the other end. It was Hilde.

You were pretty certain no one called her by her name. Everyone just called her Valkyrie. You were the only person who bothered to ask what it was. Thor randomly sent her to check on you. He couldn’t bear to look at you after the final failed attempt to right this tragedy. She didn’t mind driving out. It was a welcome escape for her from New Asgard.

It started with her bringing you food (which you didn’t need) then morphed into good friends drinking and laughing. She was the only one who made you laugh these days. Then it turned into sloppy drunken make out sessions to full on fucking.

You loved fucking her. She was soft and always smelled divine like salty sea air. She was an absolute wizard with her tongue and fingers. She taught you how to eat her pussy. You were an excellent student.

You stepped aside and let her in without a word. You pulled her to you by her belt and swallowed her tongue. She was always so hungry for you her Kærasta. From the little Norwegian Loki had taught you, you knew that meant girlfriend. Though you never put a label on it you supposed you were.

“You smell like the bartender” she said breathless.

“Sorry. Come shower with me. I’ll get rid of him” you smiled against her neck.

You pulled her towards the hall bathroom. Though not nearly as big as the master, Loki had to make sure Thor could fit comfortably in the shower. It was more than enough room for the two of you.

“Don’t you have a big bathtub in your bedroom?” You froze.

“Yeah. I don’t use it.”

“Can we tonight? I need to relax.”

“I haven’t since...Loki and I....”

“Sssshhh, Elskan. We don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice.” She slipped her hand into the waistband of your leggings and was pleased to find no panties underneath. You braced against the wall as she expertly teased your clit.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt” you whispered.

“That’s my good girl.”

You rinsed a layer or two of dust out of the tub and fished a new sponge out of the cabinet. She undressed and pinned up her hair. Once the tub was filled, she slid into the spot that Loki usually occupied.

The tub was wide enough for her to spread her legs. You sat facing her and she pulled you in so your cunts were pressed up against each other.

You kissed again pressing as hard into her body as you could. She held you with one hand and tweaked your nipple with the other. Before long the pressure was too great and you had to move. You rode each other into your first of many climaxes that night.

You spent the rest of your bath soaping each other’s bodies and she washed your hair. When you got out you slicked each other with one of your oils and she braided your hair. The whole thing was so intimate. You loved pampering each other. Clearly you both needed the attention.

She pulled you onto the bed and felt your body hesitate. “Do you want to go to another room?”

“No. It’s ok. I just haven’t slept in this bed in ages.”

Her face split into a smile that was so sinful a fresh burst of wetness trickled out of your snatch. “Oh, Kærasta. You think daddy would drive all this way at this time of night to sleep?” She grabbed one of your nipples between her teeth and shook your breast like a dog. You giggled for the first time in forever. That’s when your water glass flew onto the floor and shattered.

“Shit. I wasn’t even near it.” You crawled across the bed to get to the door. You came rushing back in with a broom. She moved to help you, “No. Stay on the bed. I’ve got it. I guess he didn’t like that.”

“He who?” She looked around the room suspiciously.

“This is going to sound silly but, I think Loki visits. I know. I should seek help.”

“I wouldn’t exactly be surprised. It would piss him off royally to know that I was bedding his wife. We never really got along.” Her laugh was carefree and melodic. You were visibly upset. “Hey, Y/N. I’ll stop. I’ll hold you all night if you want. But, I think you need. A. Release.” She kissed her way down the column of your neck. You melted in her palm.

“I need both.” She laid you down on the bed and spread your legs. She licked her way up her thigh to your dripping pussy and slowly dipped in her tongue into your folds.

“You’re always so wet for me, Kærasta. Do you like it when daddy licks your pretty pussy?”

“Mmmm. Yes, daddy. I want your fist.”

“What my good girl wants, my good girl gets.” She massaged your opening with her thumbs inserting them and pulling you apart gently. She coaxed the muscles helping you relax. She flattened her tongue and pulsed it gently. The sensation was overwhelming. She eased in three fingers helping you to stretch more. You arched your back off the mattress.

“Fuck. Daddy that feels so good. I need more.” She buried her hand up to her wrist. It burned but it felt exquisite. You fucked back into her face and came harder than you had in a long time.

“I want to make you cum. Sit on my face” you said as she plunged her tongue back into your mouth.

You pulled her on top of you and hooked your arms around her to pull her thighs taught. You pulled her down and licked slowly around the opening then plunged in your tongue. She gasped and grabbed on to the headboard. You made slow concentric circles around her clit. Every now and then you’d suck a little making sure to get the hood too. Two fingers fucked deep into her cunt carefully manipulating the soft spongy button inside. You picked up the pace building a rhythm that had her moaning and cursing. You moaned back to encourage her. When her thighs started to shake you pulled her down harder so she could fuck your face bathing you in her juices.

You licked her until she relaxed. She slid off of you and down to the bed. You wiped your faces on a towel and wrapped your body around hers. For once you were able to make her relax and feel like a precious little spoon. She hummed and smiled in her sleep.

As you drifted off you felt Loki looming around you. You held Hilde tighter hoping the feeling would go away. It only grew stronger. Unable to rest you slid your arm from under her and went to the kitchen for tea. When you heard Loki’s voice you nearly dropped your cup.

“My lord! You don’t need to scare me like that! Am I dreaming again?”

He was sitting at the kitchen table staring at you longingly. He wished you could sit on his lap and kiss him until the steam came screaming from the kettle. It was an act that you preformed so many times that it seemed trivial. Nothing seems trivial anymore. “No. You are very much awake. Is this what you do now? You bring random people into our bed? Drink every night until you pass out?”

“Oh calm down. It’s Valkyrie. I like her. She makes me feel something. I mostly don’t feel anything like I’m not here.”

“Yes, I’m sure she’s thoroughly amused that she makes you scream her name in our marital bed.” He spat the words at you. All of the joy snapped from your face. It hurt him to see it.

Over the last few weeks he watched you split more and more as you straddled the world of the living and the world of the dead. He was doing no better. Hel was pushing him to make a decision whether he would ask you to join him or use your magic to separate from him. As much as he wanted to be with you, it wasn’t your time. To him you barely had the chance to live. You deserved to have babies and grow old with someone. He was doing the exact thing he promised he wouldn’t. He was selfishly keeping you all to himself. This night he decided to tell you about the spell.

“I’ve been thinking and I may know a way to fix all of this. There is a healer in New Asgard who trained under my mother. She is familiar with Freyr’s magic.”

“I know. Hilde told me about her. We’ve already come up with the spell.”

“Then why haven’t you done it?”

“Because when I do your magic will fade from the house, the grounds, our rings...me. I’m not ready to let you go.”

“I am not ready either but I think it’s time, Pet. We can’t go on this way. You feel empty because part of you is literally dead. I hate that I’m doing this to you:”

“I’m not ready. I’m still trying to figure out a way to bring you back.”

He sighed heavily, “I’m not coming back this time, Y/N. You know in your heart that I’m not. You need to move on. I want you to love and have children and grow old. We’ll be together again.”

You were completely offended. The girl you were when you met your husband was not the woman you were now. You were unbridled and a force magically. He helped you to become this woman. How could you put all of that away now just to have a white picket life?

Maybe another lifetime ago you wanted kids and barbecues in the back yard. This you wanted passion and madness. He was the Clyde to your Bonnie and his outlaw heart was yours forever. But, if he wanted to be free of you, that’s what he’d get.

He saw the fire burning in your eyes. He longed to know what you were thinking. You were seething but shook it off, gave him a sweet smile and said, “You’re right. I’ll go back to see the healer with Hilde tomorrow. I’m glad we had this talk.”

“You look angry. Please don’t be angry. I love you so much. I don’t want you to die, Y/n. I’m sorry I’m gone but you’ve barely lived. Please understand this. Can you say it back?” He was desperate to touch you, to connect one more time. “Norns, wife! Will you look at me and say you love me too?! Please!”

Your voice was cold and unfeeling, “I’m not your wife. I’m your widow. Goodbye, Loki.”

You didn’t look back to see if he left. Your heart felt like it was plunged into ice. You strode back into your bedroom and used your magic to fling open his closet doors and dresser drawers. You put all of his clothes into a pile. Hilde woke up to the sound and shook the last tendrils of sleep from her head.

“Kærasta, what are you doing?” She got out of bed and threw on a tshirt. You wouldn’t look at her. She followed you and the bundle of clothes down the hall to the yard where you set them. A fireball grew in your hands and you sent it sailing into the clothes. They went up with a whoosh. She wrapped her arms around your waist and watched with you until it burned out.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” she said against the shell of your ear.

“I think my dead husband just broke up with me.” You both laughed but your laughter faded into sobs.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” She held your hand all the way down the hall. You both stripped and got back under the covers. She kissed your cheeks then your eyelids then your forehead. You finally fell asleep nestled into her body.

You felt Loki’s sadness all night. He looked on from your reading loft watching your chest rise and fall, your body being comforted by someone else. If his heart was beating he thought it may have stopped the moment you left the kitchen. It was evident by the way your mood so easily shifted that you needed to be released from this burden.

——————————————————————

Loki returned back to the underworld feeling more conflicted than he did earlier in the evening. His daughter was waiting for him eager to hear his thoughts on the matter at hand.

“Welcome home, Father.” She kissed his cheek and ushered him into a soft chair.

“It seems my darling wife is angry with me. Am I wrong? Should I have done things differently?”

Hel thought for several minutes opening her mouth to speak occasionally but closing it just as quick. “Shouldn’t she have chosen her fate, Daddy Dearest?” she cocked her head to the side awaiting his answer.

“Perhaps. It would have been the wrong decision.”

“How do you know? Why are you so afraid of her being here? Am I not a hospitable hostess?”

“Of course you are, my baby. I’m afraid...”he hesitated to say out loud what he feared the moment you put on those infernal rings. “I’m afraid she’ll regret being with only me for all eternity.”

“Pity you never got the chance to know what she actually wanted. When the ritual is performed tomorrow, I’ll give you a moment to touch her warm skin before you are split from each other. Savor it, Father.”

————-————————————————-—

You woke up feeling uneasy and unsure of yourself. Anytime you felt this way you called Steve. He had a knack for talking you off the proverbial ledge. You explained the conversation and how angry you were.

“If he gave you a choice, would you choose to put on that ring or live? You already wrote the spell right?”

“I had it as a back up in case I couldn’t bring him back.”

“So in both instances, you chose to live which is exactly what he is asking you to do. It seems like you’re not conflicted at all, my dear. Sounds like you are angry that you don’t have him anymore. You’re allowed to be angry, Y/N. I certainly am.”

You were quiet. You hadn’t thought about it that way. “Why do you always know what to say?”

He chuckled, “I know how that brain of yours works. Can I come with you? I’ll drive you back.”

You didn’t know how you would be after but knew you didn’t want to be alone. Hilde couldn’t stay away for too long. “I would love it if you came.”

Steve arrived in under an hour. This was his first time meeting Hilde. When he extended his hand she pulled him in for a hug. She smelled like you all warm and spicy. He didn’t ask but judging by her constant touching, he could imagine.

The drive up was quiet. Hilde kept a protective hand on your thigh the entire way there. When you first started hanging out you made her a playlist of your favorite Midgardian pop songs. You made her a new one every time she came to visit. The one she had blaring on the radio was your road trip mix. She sang at an obnoxious volume trying to get you to sing along. When “Shut Up and Drive” popped on you couldn’t help but laugh. You sang at the top of your lungs right back at her. For someone so ancient she certainly had the spirit of a twenty something woman.

When you arrived in New Asgard Thor met you with the healer. Maja was an old careworn. Her eyes were soft and knowing. She took you by the hand and lead you into her space. Thor was noticeably silent as she explained the task at hand. When she asked for your wedding rings Thor asked everyone to leave for a moment.

“I don’t think I have to ask how you are feeling, sister. I’m sure it’s the same way I feel. Hopeless.”

“I’m beyond that now. I’ve tried everything, Thor. I can’t bring him back.”

He sniffled and turned away from you so you couldn’t see him cry, “He’s the last of my family, Y/N. This just feels so...permanent.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hugged you back and you both cried.

“What a sorry pair you two make.” Loki appeared in the room solid but glowing. You reached out your hand and he took it kissing his way up your arm.

“What? What is this, Brother?”

“Your niece sends her love. In a cruel twist of fate, the spell is only truly successful if both of the souls are near each other. The rings are a fine substitute but my darling daughter thought she would gift her new mother with one more moment.”

You felt like all the air was sucked out of you. He ran his hands over your skin trying to etch your warmth and softness onto his soul. He spoke to Thor but never took his eyes off of yours. Thor squeezed his little brother with all of his might. Loki never let your hand go.

When Maja and the others came back into the room they didn’t exactly look shocked but they were confused. Maja promised to explain later.

She had the two of you join hands just as before and you each held your rings. She spoke a language you didn’t understand and once again came the golden light. This time it receded from the two of you rather than the Yggdrasil. You began to feel him fading from you and you broke down. He pulled you towards his body and held you with all his might.

Once the ritual was almost completed Maja spoke to the two of you directly. “Once I say this last part, your soul will not be able to sustain itself here on Midgard. If there is anything left to say, now is the time.”

You looked into his eyes and cleared your throat, “You talked so much about how you were never enough. Not to your people your father or even your brother. You should know you are everything to me. All I can hope is that I’ve been enough for you. I will never stop fighting for us, Lok. In this life or the next, we will be together again. I swear it.”

He didn’t have a speech for you. No pearls of wisdom to send you off into the rest of your life. He held your face in his hands and kissed you for the last time. This was not a kiss of arousal but of love and the feverish need to consume you. His mouth tasted salty. You weren’t sure if was your tears or his. The two of you embraced while Maja continued. He pressed his lips to your ear and whispered “I love you” over and over again. Your cries were too loud to hear the final words. You felt the last shreds of him falling from your fingertips. On a breath of air he was gone.

Steve held you as you sank down to the floor. Thor and Hilde sat down with you. The three of them held you and cried along with you but all for very different reasons. Your rings, now unremarkable clippings of the Yggdrasil tumbled from your hand. Steve picked them up and put them in his pocket.

You didn’t stay around much longer. Thor retreated back home. You made him promise to come visit even though he would never step foot in your house again.

Hilde kissed you and said she would be back soon. “You will call me tonight and at least ten times a day until I see you again, Kærasta. Say yes.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you for being there today.” You offered her a weak smile and she kissed you again. You grabbed Steve’s hand and held it all the way home.

#marvel #marvel witches #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #mcu x reader #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #loki angst #valkyrie x reader

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briefololtragedy · 4 years

Text

Bleed for me

Pairing: ShiSaku

Rating: M (for violence)

Summary: Shisui didn’t like people touching what was his

for day 3 of shiSaku weekend: Yakuza AU, obsession, You’re mine and only mine @shisakuweek

Also posted on AO3

A pale child laid in a hospital bed. Their skin almost blending into the stark white sheets that encased the bed. A man and woman sat beside the bed holding onto the child’s hand. Tears could be seen streaming down their faces. They spoke sweet nothings into her ear. The young girl could not hear what they were saying. It was hard to distinguish the small fragile body of the girl from the lines going to and from her. She was almost more machine than human at this point.

The click clack of heels could be heard nearing the door. A gentle knock took the couples attention from their child to the woman now in the room.

“Mr and Mrs. Sato, I’m Doctor Sakura Haruno and here to talk to you about Rin.” The married couple grasped onto each other. They stared at the woman before them, waiting on bated breath for good news.

“I am one of the transplant doctors who specialize in pediatric cardiothoracic surgery. Do you mind if I sit as we talk about Ms. Rin?” A gentle smile made its way onto Dr. Haruno’s face as the couple nodded their heads yes.

“As you know Rin was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome. She has undergone the three stages of repair for her condition, but has now developed complications from not having a 4 chambered heart.” Sakura paused giving time for the parents to process. She always hated these conversations. She glanced at the child laying in the bed. It was likely that good news would not come to this family.

“She has started to develop heart failure in combination with protein losing enteropathy, PLE, as we call it. We do not know the exact reason why some children who have undergone the second or third stage of repair develop this condition. There are some experimental procedures that some surgery centers have tried with little improvement in the patient's condition.” Another pause.

“We are currently pumping the blood through her body artificially with the machine you see. I know when Rin was placed on this they told you what it entails. Her heart is no longer strong enough to function. The machine is giving her lungs a break as well. Right now the best chance Rin has is a heart transplant. She will be near the top of the list in her current state. However, I want you to prepare for the worst case scenario. I am not sure when there will be a donor who matches Rin’s needs…” The words faded into the background for the couple as the sobs overtook them. The doctor placed a hand on the wife’s back rubbing soothing circles. She hoped for a miracle, but life was a cruel bitch.

_______________________________-

The doctor from before was sitting at a bar stool, her petal pink hair cascading down her back. She took a swig of the beer in her hand wanting to erase the day she had. She was dressed to kill with a body hugging backless dress. It was wine red in color, accentuating her alabaster skin. Her green eyes shined like emeralds.

She felt a calloused hands caress her back causing her muscles to twitch. She could smell the alcohol on the individual's breath.

“Aint you a pretty little thing. Let me buy you a drink and you can repay me later.” She had to roll her eyes.

“Beat it. I’m not interested.” She didn’t even bother looking at the man.

“Come on pinky. I can rock your world. You look like you need something stiff.” His laugh grated on her nerves. When he wouldn’t leave her alone, she got up and started to leave. The oaf of a man couldn’t take the hint and grabbed her waist, pulling her to him. She wanted to hurl fron the stench.

“You smell good pinky.” He was starting to rub his nose in her neck. Before she could send her elbow to the man’s skull he was already falling to the ground.

“Ahh!” The drunken idiot now had a foot crushing the bones in his hand. Sakura could hear the crunch of bone from where she was.

“I think the lady told you she wasn’t interested.” A rich baritone voice spoke.

“Oh you just want the bitch for yourself. Find your own. I saw this one first.” The man before her applied more force through his foot, causing the man below him to groan in agony.

“I think it would be best if you leave before something unsightly happens to you.” Sakura knew the man’s fate was dealt the moment he touched her. Sakura already saw a few men in the corner start to move. Once the drunk was up and moving to the exit, he was being followed.

“Was that really necessary, Shisui?” Sakura took the martini from him and started to sip it slowly. She melted when he wrapped his right arm around her. He brought his index finger to her chin and traced her bone structure. Shisui stopped once he was under her chin and turned her face to look at him.

“He was touching what was mine. Don’t forget you’re mine and only mine.” Shisui then sealed their lips together with a kiss.

“Hmm don’t forget you are mine as well.” Shisui smirked. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Shisui would do anything for her. _______________________________

Shisui sat in his leather chair listening to his lackeys talk about different shipments. He really didn’t care at the moment. Sakura was upset about one of her patients. While she told him most things, she always kept her work at arms length from him. Well she tried to for the most part.

When Itachi entered the room Shisui found his back straightening. The glint in Itachi’s eye told Shisui that he was successful in his mission.

“You three leave now.” The three scattered out the door faster than cockroaches clearing ,when a light was turned on. The two waited for the door to close before speaking.

“It appears Sakura has a patient who recently went on the heart transplant list. It's a young girl 8-9 years of age. She has two younger siblings. Mother is an elementary school teacher and father works for a bank. He is a low level teller. The nurses were saying how they don’t think a match will come in on time. Parents are preparing for the worse.”

Shisui leaned onto his clasped hands. “Did you get her blood type and cross matching?”

Itachi smirked and held up a file. “Of course I did. I also tracked down some of the regulars at that bar the two of you go to. I found one who is a match.”

This was just all too perfect.

“You know what to do. Sakura and I will be meeting there for drinks tonight.” Shisui got up from his desk and grabbed his jacket. He was going to kill two birds with one stone. Rid the world of a lowly excuse for a human being and make Sakura happy.

___________________________________________

Shisui had gotten to the bar early to make sure he was sitting in a dark corner. He watched the man go to the bar and order his drink. The bartender glanced his way and Shisui gave a nod. The guy was too busy talking with his friends to see the purple liquid get added to his drink. In just 30-60 minutes the man would lose all inhibitions and fall into the trap.

Itachi was stationed with two others around the bar. The moment Sakura walked into the bar Shisui’s breath escaped his lungs. He could never figure out how she looked so ethereal.

_________________________________________

Sakura snuggled to the man next to her. She buried her nose into his chest. He smelled of sandalwood.

“Hmm where did you go after we got home?” Sakura mumbled as she talked to him. Before he could answer her pager went off. Sakura jumped out of bed and grabbed her phone.

Soon she was kissing Shisui and rushing to get dressed. Shisui just leaned back in their shared bed. Thinking of earlier.

The blade ran up and down the man’s skin. Shisui made sure not to apply enough pressure to cut into the epidermis, at least not yet. The man’s arms and legs were bound to the table immobilizing him.

“Do you know why you are here...What’s your name again?” The man was a sobbing mess.

“K..Ken. Please I have a family.” Anger boiled in Shisui’s veins. He grabbed Ken’s chin, squeezing hard.

“You have a family? Do they know you were at a bar trying to force yourself on women?”

“I’ve never.” A forceful sob caused Ken’s body to jerk violently. Shisui squeezed harder on the man’s jaw. He could feel the bones give under his grip, with a flick of the wrist he jaw gave way.

“What were you doing tonight then? Touching what is mine.” Shisui knew he was not going to get an answer due to the dislocated jaw in his hand.

“Don’t worry your life will mean something once it is ended.” Shisui took his other hand and dug the knife at the base of Ken’s skull. He had read enough of Sakura’s medical textbooks to know the right place to hit to render someone brain dead. Ken would still have his brainstem functions allowing his heart to beat long enough for it to live in another.

In the corner sat Kabuto. While Shisui didn’t agree with his politics, he knew the man could keep a secret. Kabuto also knew better than to cross Shisui. Shisui would not waste any time adding more bodies to the bottom of the ocean.

“You know your part?” Shisui cleaned off his blade.

“Yes. I will take this man to the OR after declaring him brain dead. The nurses will find his organ donor card and alert the transplant team.”

“What are you waiting for? Go.” Shisui wanted to go back home and crawl into his bed. He knew his slumber was going to get distrubed in a few hours with the page Sakura was going to get.

Sakura was running around their bedroom grabbing the nearest article of clothing to dress in. Shisui threw the covers off his body and followed her.

“What are you doing?” Shisui just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take you to work so you can rest on the way there. I don’t have work in the morning so I can stay to drive you home.” Shisui melted when he saw her smile. He soon felt arms around his neck and a soft kiss.

“You’re amazing. I can never get over how kind of a husband I have.” Shisui just rested his head on hers before hurrying her to the car.

_____________________________________

He was pacing back and forth. He could see a couple with two young children sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Sakura had been in the OR for over 5 hours now. He was lucky she let him sleep in her office, but he was restless. Multiple what if questions ran through his brain. Shisui started chewing on his thumb nail. He ignored the pointed looks from the staff and visitors who passed him.

Shisui propped himself on the wall. He wanted a view of the OR doors when they opened. After another hour or two, the doors finally opened. Sakura’s hair was tucked under her scrub cap and part of her face obscured by her surgical mask, but she still looked stunning. As he watched her walk over to the family Shisui knew it was all worth it.

It just wasn’t tonight that was worth it. He thought back to when he first met his wife. She was a struggling medical student who his little cousin brought over to stitch him up. Shisui was ensnared in her beauty at that moment. She didn’t bat an eyelash when he cursed at her due to the pain. Sakura didn’t care who he was or how he would be taking the mantle of the Yakuza head.

Shisui spent months planning on how he would bump into her. He memorized her schedule, followed her some nights. She became his obsession. His life was consumed by her. He felt like a nervous fool asking her out the first time. They fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. She was always by his side. Shisui found that they shared a lot of the same ideals.

“Shisui did you get any sleep?” Her hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

“I got some. Let’s get you home. Was the surgery successful?” He held her close as they walked back to her office.

“It was. Thank you.” Her head rested on his shoulder as they walked.

“No need to thank me.” Shisui found himself against her office wall as she devoured him.

“Without you there would have been no surgery tonight. So thank you. You got Kabuto to help didn’t you?” Well hearing that rat's name killed the mood.

“You said you didn’t want to be involved anymore.” They stood in her office embracing.

“You know it’s best for me to not be involved. Let’s get back home to Hiroyuki, he’ll be missing us.” Sakura was right. Their son would be missing them.

#shisui uchiha #shisui x sakura #shisaku #shisakuweekend082020 #Sakura Haruno #yakuza #SurgeonSakura

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dontshootmespence · 5 years

Text

You Do Something To Me

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have been on a few dates, mostly consisting of Doctor Who, poker and bad takeout. This time, the reader suggest upping the stakes.

Words: 1,228

Warnings: Fluff, then strip poker, and then some sexy times.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo 2020! This fulfills my free space square and fulfills a request I’ve kept for a hot minute from @friedtacostarfish, who asked for a strip poker fic between Spencer and the reader who’ve been on a few dates but haven't slept together yet. They love playing poker though, so one night the reader suggest taking it up a notch. Also, I don’t do poker, I barely know the hands and lingo so if I got shit wrong...oops.

Probably wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world - lo mein noodles hanging sloppily out of your mouth. But you couldn’t help it. You were hungry. “Is this everything you ever wanted in a woman?” You asked, slurping the rest of the noodle into your mouth before flashing him a cheesy smile.

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “As long as you don’t mind when I do something like this.” After forfeiting the chopsticks he still couldn’t figure out how to use correctly and grabbing a fork, he popped a piece of teriyaki chicken into his mouth and splashing soy sauce on himself in the process. “Another round?”

You smirked and felt a wave of heat washing over you. Hopefully, what came out of your mouth wouldn’t scare him away. “How about we up the ante?”

“How much?”

“Not money.”

Spencer’s mouth contorted into a face you hadn’t seen before, making you snort. “I’m confused.”

“How about...we play strip poker? Every hand lost, loser takes off a piece of clothing.”

He blushed and looked down, but when his eyes met yours again, they were filled with want. “Are you sure you want to play that with me? Texas Hold’em?” Oh, now he was getting cocky.

“Definitely.”

Without a word, he divvied up the cards - two hole cards a piece and five community cards. Not that he didn’t love playing poker, but he seemed more invested than usual. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

In the center of the table sat an ace of hearts, 9 of diamonds and 3 of spades.

As you glanced across the table, you tried to read Spencer as best you could, which considering he was a profiler put you at a distinct disadvantage. There was the slightest tick in his lip - upward, so an okay hand at least.

If you got lucky with the next two community cards, you’d beat him, but it was a long shot. You decided to call him anyway. One of you would hopefully get naked and then maybe the cards wouldn’t be necessary anymore. “I call,” he said. “Burn the card and the next is a king of diamonds.”

You could win this hand. In your head, you just screamed gimme a queen, gimme a queen, gimme a queen.

“I call.”

“Burn one and...queen of clubs.”

You tried keeping your game face on. You were sure you had him. “I raise.”

“Okay, I fold,” Spencer said.

He had a pair with threes, but you’d found your lucky butt with a straight - ace, king, queen, and your cards, jack and 10. “Strip, lover boy!”

Spencer chuckled and removed the sweater he was wearing. Unfortunately, or fortunately (depending on perspective), the next few hands didn’t go so well for you, which resulted in you losing both socks and your shirt. The choice of a nude lace bra was definitely a great choice because Spencer couldn’t stop staring. “That choice of bra was mean. It’s fogging my brain,” he said, not once glancing up toward your eyes.

Snorting, you stretched your arms behind you to give him a nice unfettered peek at everything. “Not my fault you’re a man and can’t concentrate in the presence of boobs.”

He bit his lip and dealt the next round of pocket cards before dealing the first three community cards. Within 30 minutes, he was wearing only jeans and you were in your bra and panties. Spencer was practically sweating and you were just waiting for him to break. “Spence, do you...do you think you can go another round?” You asked cheekily.

“No, absolutely not. I know we haven’t done anything before, but um...bedroom?” He pointed his thumb back toward his room, swallowing hard.

You stood up and slowly turned around, finally giving him a long head-to-toe look. “Ah!” You shrieked when he lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder, kissing your outer thigh along the way.

“You’ve been killing me,” he said, his breaths heavy. “All night long. Do you know the things that have been running through my mind?”

Grasping his belt buckle, you fumbled with it as you replied. “I could imagine. What about me? Can you see what’s going on in my head?” You kissed his stomach just above the waistband of his jeans while you pulled them down, palming his length through his boxers. “Look, Spence, I’m all about foreplay on most occasions, but right now-”

“Yea, me too.” As he crawled over you, he pushed your bra up, not even bothering to unhook it before he clasped his lips over your nipple and began to roll it around in his mouth. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Your entire body blushed at his praise. You lifted the bra over your head and threw it somewhere toward the edge of the bed. It creaked from age but neither of you seemed to care, your labored breaths and the rhythmic sounds of the mattress was music to your ears.

Even though he seemed desperate, his muscles tight and coiled, he couldn’t help but press kisses down your stomach as he hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties and pulled them down. Hungrily, he spread your legs and licked a stripe up your slit. “I know we said no foreplay, but I just couldn’t resist.”

Smiling, you pulled up and into a kiss. “Spence, I had no idea you could talk this way. I like it.”

“Only because I know you so well. And you’re perfect for me.”

You sighed into his mouth and helped him kick his boxers away. “Want me?”

“Hell yes,” he mumbled. He kissed your neck as he reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed a condom. In a few quick flicks of his wrist, he slid it on and placed the head of his length at your entrance. “So wet already.” He practically sing-songed.

“What can I say? You do something to me.” You skimmed your hands down his torso and grabbed his ass. When he slipped inside you, you immediately mewled, wanting more, to be overwhelmed by feeling.

Spencer pumped inside you over and over again, groaning as you closed your legs around him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed.

You bucked into his movements, his hands slipping over your arms and toward your own hands. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held them above your head as he fucked you. Whimpering, you wrapped your legs around his waist and used your heels to push him deeper, feel him harder, more insistent. “I need you, Spence. Please, I-”

Your begging was cut short when he reached his hand between your bodies and massaged your clit as fast as he could. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I-” As you came, your toes curled, every muscle in your body tightening. You barely heard him as he screamed your name into your neck, the only indication being the feel of his lips on your skin.

Both of you came down slowly, heavy breaths getting in the way of forming a coherent thought. You grasped his face in your hands and probed his mouth with your tongue. “That was...wow.”

“Was it you that suggested strip poker or me?” He asked, falling to your side.

You giggled and pulled the blanket closer to you. “That would be me.”

Spencer swallowed and took your mouth in another hungry kiss. “God, you’re brilliant.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo2020 #cmbingo20 #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #dontshootmespence #you do something to me

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schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Sick Jonny, soft Jonny, little ball of rage

Jonny was the youngest when he got mechanized, it’s not really noticable, but when he’s sick and seeking for comfort he is found by Tim, Ashes and Marius, who take care of him.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, but tell me if there’s anything I should tag and I’ll do it without question!

~~~~~~~~~

Technically Jonny was the oldest. He was the first of the Mechanisms and had been around the longest, so logically he would be the oldest. Still, there was the argument of mental age, which would make the rest of the crew tell you Jonny was a child.

And he was still a child.

Immortality was already wonky in itself and, since they couldn’t age, there was also the question of age based on how old you were when you got mechanized. Then, Jonny would be the youngest.

Time was weird like that.

He had been only 17 when Dr. Carmilla found him, already chewed up by a town on a planet that didn’t care about anyone. Nastya came a close second with her 19 years and Jonny saw her as his younger sister, since he had been stuck at 17 for a long while before they’d picked her up, but that didn’t change the fact that he was younger, technically.

Most of the time you didn’t notice it all. He was violent, had seen too much and was much older than the 17 years his body was stuck at, but sometimes the other Mechanisms were hit with just how young Jonny had been when his life became never ending.

Now was one of those times.

Jonny had been sick for a week now. Killing him hadn’t worked and a very excited Raphaella had taken samples to her lab to figure out what was wrong. It apparently wasn’t a sickness he could give to the other crew members, since it only appeared his species, which was nice.

Jonny hated being alone.

Not that he’d been able to get out of bed much the past few days. He had been too sleepy and too heavy to move himself and it was too hot or too cold to do anything other than lying in his bed doing nothing other than coughing or vomiting while wearing only an oversized shirt he had stolen from Brian and some boxers.

But today he had managed.

He had woken up feeling too cold and decided that he wanted to hug someone warm. So he had set out to find someone, anyone at this point. He could later blame it on sickness instead of just craving contact and not being alone.

It wasn’t really hard to find anyone. A part of the crew was just lounging around in the common area, no one had been in the mood for killing and fighting without Jonny there, it just wasn’t the same. So when Tim spotted him he exclaimed: “Jonny!”

That caught the attention of the others, who looked at the doorway as well.

Tim could now also see that Jonny wasn’t better yet, which was disappointing. He also noticed how different Jonny looked, without the usual outfit and drowning in a shirt he looked smaller. The blanket trailing behind him like a cape didn’t help either and he wasn’t wearing his make up, which also made him look much younger than normal.

Jonny didn’t even have the energy to reply. Instead he stumbled down the few steps and collapsed on the couch in the space between Tim and Ashes. He crawled under his blanket, where he immediately had a coughing fit, which made him curl into himself.

When the coughing subsided Tim carefully asked the figure lying next to him: “Are you okay?”

The lump of blankets grumbled something, sounding displeased, and started shuffling towards Tim until Jonnys head was in Tims lap and he was burrowing his nose into Tims stomach. Tim looked at him with big eyes, unsure of what to do now. His hands twitched, but he didn’t know where to put them, so they just stayed still at his sides.

Tim looked around the room to the others who were there. Ashes gave him a shrug telling him that they were just as confused as him, while Marius was ignoring Tim while he was looking at Jonny like he was trying to figure out what this meant.

It was quiet in the common area for a while, then Jonny started to shiver and his teeth started to clatter. He pulled the blanket closer around him and curled up more around Tim.

When the shivering and clattering didn’t stop, Tim got worried. Despite fighting with Jonny a lot there was a brotherly camaraderie between the two and it worried him to see the other looking so young and vulnerable.

He swallowed and looked at the others again, they were no help at all, so he asked: “Jonny? What’s wrong?”

“C- col- cold.” Jonny stuttered out.

Tim slowly moved his left hand to Jonnys back, which he rubbed awkwardly, but soothingly. He loosened up a bit when he felt Jonny melt against the touch. After a while Jonny was still shivering slightly and Tim had a bright idea, which he would probably get killed for. He said: “Not that I don’t want you here, Jonny, but I tend to run a bit cool and Ashes runs pretty hot. If you’re still so cold, maybe they can warm you a bit?”

Ashes’ head shot up and they glared at him, while they made a threatening gesture that went over Jonnys head, both literally and figuratively. He blinked a few times and nodded, before struggling to sit upright and turning towards Ashes.

Ashes had been planning to kill Jonny if he actually thought Tim was right and tried to snuggle up with them, but then they saw Jonnys face. It was free of the usual mania and the bags under his eyes were huge. He yawned, it was a small kitten yawn and they decided they would make fun of him for that when he was feeling better to make up for what they allowed him to do next.

Jonny fell back down, this time to other way around onto Ashes. He had been sitting closer to them and Ashes was slouching, so instead of falling on their lap, like he had done by Tim, he fell on their stomach. He wasn’t deterred by the position and instead curled himself into a ball at their side, creating as much contact between their bodies as he could.

They could feel the tremors wracking through his small frame and they thought back to the smaller kids in the orphanage as well as the newer recruits of Smooth Mickey. So instead of pushing him away they’d put their arm around him, steadying him.

With the warmth and the hug, he so desperately needed, provided. Jonny allowed himself to relax, his mind too hazy with sickness to feel embarrassed. After a few minutes he felt himself drift away while he went boneless against Ashes.

Ashes could pinpoint the exact moment he fell asleep because of this and, mildly surprised, they stated: “He fell asleep.”

“Really?” Marius asked.

Ashes nodded and lifted their arm to show the slack sleeping face of Jonny against their side. When he felt the arm leave he frowned and wiggled in his sleep, only stopping and giving a small content sigh when Ashes returned the arm to its previous spot.

Marius hummed and murmured: “Curious.” before making a few notes.

Tim seemed to agree as he sat on his knees and strained his neck to get a better look at their sleeping First Mate. After a while of looking he acknowledged what all had noticed: “He looks so young like this, doesn’t he?”

Glad someone else pointed it out first Ashes nodded: “Yeah, it’s crazy how much older he looks when he’s just being his bastard self.”

“I never noticed as well, but it must do a lot with your psyche to become immortal at such a young age.” Marius noted, “I won’t claim I was old when it happened, but I think it’s fair to say I was older than Jonny, you?”

Both nodded, Tim had been a bright eyed twenty-year-old soldier, while Ashes had been 23 and already broken by the world, Marius had just turned 30 when it had happened to him. They all still had a life ahead of them, a life that was now longer than anticipated of course, but they hadn’t been a teen.

Jonnys body had now decided to be too hot again, apparently the small respite of the heat was now over and back with a vengeance. He was also very tired, however, so he didn’t wake up fully, not to awareness.

Instead he sleepily fought against Ashes arm until they lifted it. Then he kicked off his blanket, which slid to the floor, and flopped back down on the couch in the space between Tim and Ashes again.

The three other Mechanisms held their breath as they watched him lie there for a second. His nose twitched and his head tossed from side to side. He frowned and felt around, at first Tim thought he must be looking for his blanket again, so he held it near Jonnys hand, who found it, but he didn’t take the blanket instead tugging on Tims hand. Tim wasn’t prepared for that and toppled over onto Jonny, who smiled in his sleep and used him as teddy bear.

Ashes couldn’t help, but laugh at his startled face and predicament. Tim shot them a glare, but didn’t move. He was unsure how to proceed, since this had never happened before in all the millennia they’ve known each other.

Marius had gotten up from the other couch and squatted down next to them until he was at eye level with Jonnys sleeping form. He tapped his chin a few times, before he said: “I think the sickness has lowered his defenses so much that he unconsciously seeks out the contact he usually craves, but pushes down.”

Tim and Ashes raised their brows disbelievingly and Ashes slowly asked: “You’re saying that Jonny, our Jonny, who kills you if you touch him when he isn’t prepared, wants a hug?”

Marius nodded and Tim looked down at Jonny before he replied: “I mean, it does look like he wants a hug.”

He demonstrated by trying to wiggle free, causing Jonny to frown and whine in his sleep as he tightened his grip on Tims torso.

Ashes hummed thoughtfully as they thought about that. It did make sense with how Jonny was acting right now and if they thought about it more closely they did recall instances in which they had slung an arm around Jonny after a particularly good battle with lots of violence when Jonny had practically melted against them for a moment, before scowling and pulling away.

Seeing that the two others agreed with him, Marius pushed forward his next thought. Marius had always been the most touchy one of the Mechanisms, so it wasn’t really a surprise when he suggested: “Maybe it would, you know, if we, uhm, kind of, you know?”

“Spit it out, Von Raum.” that was Ashes.

“Pulledhiminagrouphugtomakehimfeelbetter.” Marius said quickly, then he took a deep breath and repeated himself slower this time, “Pulled him in a group hug to make him feel better.”

“What?” Tim asked, ignoring the fact that he was already lying on top of Jonny embracing him.

Marius explained: “He’s been feeling bad for so long now and he usually doesn’t ask for this sort of thing, but contact is good for you, you can go weird if no one touches you for so long. This would be a perfect opportunity to do something nice for him and give him something he wants and needs. We can even tell him it was his idea since he probably won’t remember going here.”

“Something nice, you sound like Brian.” Tim grumbled, but he didn’t disagree and neither did Ashes. Instead the two did what Marius had suggested and started moving Jonny to a more comfortable position.

In the end Jonnys legs were thrown over Ashes lap as he curled up against Tims chest, who secured him in his arms, while Marius sat beside Tim to card him fingers through Jonnys hair.

They’d never seen Jonny so peaceful. He breathed softly and his face was lax, the lines that they’d thought were permanent had smoothed out. His entire body seemed to be boneless as he yielded to all the contact. There was even a small contend smile tugging at his lips.

He was, of course, still sick. They could feel the stickiness of sickness clinging to their First Mate and they all hoped Raphaella would find a cure soon, because it had been strange to see him so exhausted and unwell.

A silence hung over them, it was a comfortable silence that lasted for nearly an hour.

Jonny had slept calmly during that time, but over the course of his sickness Jonny had already learned that calmness wouldn’t be permanent. He had tried to hide how much it sucked, but as Marius had predicted, he had forgotten he’d gone to the common area.

So, when he woke up feeling terrible and needing to vomit, he did what he had done every time, and vomited over the side of the couch. He had put a bin next to his bed after the first three times it had happened and expected to find it next to him.

He frowned when he didn’t see the bin there after he was done vomiting, he then also registered sounds behind him and hands holding him, which made the frown deepen.

When Jonny had suddenly surged up, he had startled the three others. He had forced his way out of Tims arms and almost fallen of the couch (which was much smaller than his bed) in the process of vomiting. Tim had quickly grabbed his waist to stop him from meeting the ground while he heaved and tried to throw up from an empty stomach. Ashes had also tightened their grip on Jonnys legs and Marius had leaned forward as he asked: “Jonny, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Jonny noticed the hovering face of Marius first after he had gathered his bearings a bit. When he met eyes with the self proclaimed Doctor he gave him a confused look and hoarsely asked: “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Uhm, you’re not in your room.” Marius replied.

That confused Jonny even more, but before he could think about it, Tim had decided that it wouldn’t be good to hang over the edge of the couch like that and hauled him back up.

The sudden movement disoriented Jonny a bit, so he just blinked owlishly up at Tim from where he was lying in his lap for a few seconds. When recognition dawned on him, he angrily slapped away the arms that were holding him and struggled upwards, only to come face to face with an amused Ashes, who smirked at him as they patted his leg lightly.

Jonny pulled his legs back to himself and just looked around with jerky moments with an angry and confused look on his face. After he had put together where he was he slowly stated: “What the fuck. Why am I here and why are you cuddling me!”

Marius had always been the best liar, so he quickly told Jonny the half truth he’d come up with: “Well, you came in here, looking exhausted and ill, and you asked for hugs, which we graciously provided, if I might add.”

Jonny had a to think about that for a moment. He vaguely recalled being cold and wanting a hug, but he couldn’t believe that he had allowed himself to ask for such a thing. He was always so good at keeping that need under the wraps and out of sight. Violence he could do, violence he could understand, but that soft need for comfort felt like a weakness he had to push down.

While he thought, he had unconsciously pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them close, looking more like a child than he probably would’ve wanted.

When he didn’t say anything for a while, Tim spoke up, concern lacing his voice: “Jonny?”

Jonny looked up. His cheeks had already been flush with sickness, but the color was heightened with embarrassment. His mind felt cloudy and he couldn’t focus through the shame and sickness swirling around in his head. He hoped the others wouldn’t be mad at him, an irrational fear that needed soothing and made him swallow and mumble: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask.”

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s okay.” Tim said, when he heard the small tone that didn’t fit their boisterous First Mate at all. He gently put his hand on Jonnys shoulder and guided him back to his chest, where he’d laid before. Rubbing Jonnys back again, he went on: “We don’t mind at all, it’s nothing to be ashamed off. Everyone needs a hug every now and again.”

The figure in his arms was still tense and seemed ready to bolt at any time, but as Tim continued his ministrations along with Ashes who’d put a hand on Jonnys knee, he relaxed bit by bit until he was back in his earlier position, draped over Tim and Ashes.

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Jonny asked, clearly still out of it, and only fully relaxed when Tim assured him again.

Marius, who had gotten up to clean the vomit of the ground and get something to wipe Jonnys face, returned at that point. He first cleaned the ground and put an empty bucket there, just in case. Then he sat down on to the small space left next to Jonny on the couch.

Jonny turned his head around at the sudden presence there and Marius smiled at him as he gently took Jonnys chin in one hand as he wiped the last traces of vomit off Jonnys face. Jonny tried to wiggle away and looked very displeased at the onslaught from the cloth on his face, which made Marius chuckle. That earned him a glare, but he was soon forgiven after he showed Jonny the glass of water he had brought with him to get the vile taste out of his mouth.

Making grabby hands at the glass, Jonny frowned again when Marius shook his head. The Doctor (not a Doctor, von Raum) said: “You can’t drink while lying down, Jonny.”

Jonny huffed, but allowed Tim to help him get to an upright position. Marius held the glass to his mouth and Jonny pouted: “I’m not a kid, I can drink on my own.”, it came out as barely a whisper, the coughing and vomiting had done a number on his throat.

“We know that.” Ashes said, they had never liked it when Smooth Mickey had treated them as a kid and knew how Jonny felt, but they could also see that Jonny would drop the glass right now, since he was too tired to even hold himself up, instead leaning heavily against Tim, so they went on: “But this isn’t about that. This is about you feeling shit and just needing to accept that you need a bit of help. Now, let Marius help you.”

They held a short staring match that was easily won by Ashes, since Jonnys eyes started to droop with sleep. He admitted defeat and slowly sipped from the glass Marius held to his lips, secretly happy with the care and attention.

When the glass was empty, Jonny slid down again until he was lying in Tims lap. He was embarrassed by the position, but also too exhausted and feeling too shitty to care right now. Maybe he would threaten all three of them later, if they ever made fun of him, but that sounded like too much work right now.

His stomach made a weird noise and it hurt. Jonny tried to curl into himself, but with Tim and Ashes holding his feet and upper body and Marius blocking the space at his side, he didn’t succeed. However, they did notice and Tim asked: “What’s wrong?”

Deciding that he had already done too much and felt too uncomfortable to be embarrassed about this, he whined: “Hurts.”

“What hurts?” Tim asked again.

“Tummy.”

And wasn’t that just precious? The three thought as they silently fawned a bit.

Marius started rubbing Jonny stomach in the hope to alleviate the pain somewhat and it seemed to work. Jonny leaned into the touch and the frown that had appeared with the pain smoothed out again with a soft sigh.

After that he fell back into a fitful sleep from which he woke a few times. Each time the three of them would be there to comfort him until he drifted off.

In the end it was Tim, who decided that he needed a proper bed. Jonnys own room stank of sickness and Marius had the biggest bed, so they ended up in that one. All of them had gotten too attached to sleepy, cuddly, sick Jonny to leave him alone at that point.

Two days later Raphaella had found something that should help. Jonny was fed the vile concoction by Tim and when he came to he was free of the general yucky-ness of sickness and no longer confined to bed.

He was also lucid enough to be embarrassed again and he had fled the scene, shooting the others with Tims gun before hiding in his own room. He had only come out after the three of them collectively promised not to mention it to the others at all.

Jonny had opened the door, still in his oversized sleep shirt with red cheeks and threatened them all once more. Then he gave Tim his gun back and turned away to take a nice long hot shower. Before he closed the door, however, he softly said: “Thank you.”

He did throw the door close with a loud bang after that, leaving the others to share a grin amongst themselves.

They did keep their promise, but that didn’t stop them from being overprotective off him after the whole thing. Being more lenient with his bullshit and hugging him more often. Jonny was not all that amused and always grumbled about it, but he couldn’t stop the small smile each time it happened, which was enough for the others to keep going.

In the end they even got Brian involved, without mentioning it, although they did point out how cute and tiny Jonny was, and the Toy Soldier also jumped on the Hug-Jonny-More bandwagon, since it was always happy to be involved.

When Jonny noticed he told all of them that this was the reason Nastya was his favourite, which was partially true (there were more reasons, like shared trauma and just being so long in each others vicinity), but he couldn’t help it if the others gained a warmer spot in his metal heart.

These idiots were all so old that the small difference in age hardly mattered, but Jonny was their little shit and they loved him as he loved them. They all couldn’t help it, they were family after all.

#RR writing #the mechanisms #the mechs #jonny d'ville #gunpowder tim #ashes o'reilly #marius von raum #baron marius von raum #sick!Jonny d'Ville #cuddles

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greycappedjester · 4 years

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Hi I'm so sorry I'm just too shy to ask this on ao3 but I was wondering: how is Slade's relationship with Dick? I don't mind them as a ship in general but in the story sometimes I feel like Slade gets too close to Dick and I thought if there was something platonic on his side? I'm sure you wouldn't do that in the story that's why I'm asking if it's only on Slade's side. Sorry if this is a stupid question lol. Maybe it's just because I've read sl/adedick fics before. ^^D

Nah, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask about that. So....it’s complicated and will take awhile to explain so I’m putting it under a Read More before I get too long winded with my character headcanons:

This is going to get soooooo long, lol, so feel free to skim. Warning for Gotham in general and Gotham being naturally a bad place for kid vigilantes to grow up in. Also because this explanation gets somewhat dark in character interpretation....

Bonus short story at the end after a really long post.

-------

Alright, so first, I feel like I should mention again that I never watched the Teen Titans animated show past maybe the first two episodes and the movie my friends wanted me to watch that I don’t really remember. (I meant to watch that show, just never got around to it). I say this because I heard that the Teen Titans TV show portrayed the Dick and Deathstroke relationship much differently in a way that’s cool and fine but not something I can see myself really wanting to write about. I know their relationship more from comics where Dick was already an adult (albeit a young adult) when he first met Slade.

So. Back to my After the Fall of Olympus universe and yeah, I’m slowly getting to my answer. The thing is....the story is entirely in Dick’s POV right now.

And Dick’s absolutely terrible at reading and picking up any form of affection others have for him. He understands it abstractly (he knows people care) but when assessing, he critically underestimates it if he remembers to account for it at all. This goes even worse with people he’s closer to--which is why it took him forever to realize why Jason actually did want to stay with him at the manor and why he still has no idea Barbara is in love with him. Even Kory who was really, really direct about liking him, it took him years to fully emotionally process and respond to that. He’s getting better...but remembering his own value (in others eyes) isn’t something he’s overwhelming good at doing.

My headcanon, he is abnormally good at reading people and picking up basic sexual attraction. He’s good at telling when he’s being flirted with or when people are attracted to him and, honestly, Dick’s charismatic and instinctively a flirt, too.With that, partly from growing up in Gotham with its weird and supremely dark villains, I think Dick very much divorces the two concepts of romantic attraction and sexual flirting in his mind--he’s aware they can go together, obviously with Kory--but he doesn’t naturally pair them as other people probably would. It’s also part of why he just doesn’t get the level of concern Tim has about Catalina.

Okay, back to my point.

The way I write Slade and Dick’s relationship is actually mostly done off screen. But, I think Slade started with approval of Dick’s skills and potential in a clinical/objective view, growing respect and interest (personal but not at all romantic) in him as a person, and much more recently in the story (as in that last conversation he had in Ch. 18), I think Slade realized he has some legitimate attraction and cares a lot about Dick in a way that’s probably romantic.

Slade also is very, very aware immediately that he’s not going to do anything with that and, in a way, doesn’t want to because Dick ever responding to that would be jeopardizing his relationship with his family, his team, his view of his morals (which are so integral to Dick) in a way that would be exceptionally out of character and concerning coming from Dick. In other words, something happening would be a lot more terrifying than nothing happening and Slade cares.

For Dick, it’s a lot more simple. He does not have any romantic feelings there. He does in a somewhat analytical, unconscious way recognize that Slade’s probably attracted to him (probably before Slade noticed honestly) but he’s....well, kind of used to that at some level. More so, Dick doesn’t connect it to emotional care and--like with everyone else--vastly underestimates that Slade does care about him in a way that’s actually pretty selfless for a mercenary. For a romance, your guess is absolutely right, it’s not going to go anywhere in this series but I wanted the undertones and implications to be there in the final third of the story

....But, that’s also more of a later/recent development in that relationship. For most of the story that’s posted so far, Slade sees his relationship with Dick as a lot of respect and even care but not as romantic in any way. I can promise no romantic undertones at all until Dick was already in his 20s because I really, really am not interested in writing underage. (for those curious about Slade’s age in the story, I think of him as mid-20s in his introduction in Year 3 and pretty early 30s here to Dick’s early 20s)

Above everything, they respect each other and would be almost friends if that were possible.

The team and his family doesn’t know any of this.

Anyway, that was long, so here’s a bonus short story from Slade’s view. I write a lot of After the Fall of Olympus short stories in other charcter’s views that I’m not planning on posting until After the Fall of Olympus.

This one’s between Year 5 and 6 and is titled “October 7th”:

-------

It’s October 7th, almost two in the morning, and Slade’s camped out in a somehow still standing bombed out apartment in a no-name village in the middle of a war-torn country.

He’s not exactly expecting visitors.

There’s a knock on the apartment door.

Slade cocks his gun and puts two rounds in the door before, for good measure, adding matching ones on either side of the frame.

He has two seconds to let himself pretend that’s the end of it before the door knob turns to the unmistakable sound of a skilled lock pick.

Fuck, he’s too tired for this shit today.

“Geeze, Slade, what if I’d been an innocent civilian?”

Slade’s hand stills on the gun in surprise then consideration before slowly slipping it back into the holster.

“Kid,” he greets. “There’s no innocent civilians left around here. ‘Specially ones that can make it to my door without me hearing any footsteps.”

“I’ve been working on that.” Dick says, walking into the apartment. He isn’t even wearing his uniform, just plain black military style clothes with the lower half of his face covered by a piece of cloth. He pushes it down and smiles as he presses the door shut behind him. “You did tell me to get better, after all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he mutters without much heat. “You getting better almost left me out of a job.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Please, as if both of us don’t know Luthor could’ve gotten out of those charges in months. If the Light didn’t erase them for him, anyway.”

Slade shrugs. Maybe another time, he’d find the energy to banter back. But not today. Never today.

“Why are you here, Dick? How’d you find me?”

The smile slides off of Dick’s face, leaving behind those far too heavy eyes to belong to an eighteen year old.

“You know I have your file, Slade.” Dick clears his throat. “I know what day it is.”

….Fuck.

It’s not like he expected anything else. Not since the moment he saw the kid. But, still...he doesn’t want to deal with this. Doesn’t want to deal with anything. Today, he just wants to crawl back into the worst, most deserted corner of the world he can find until the hours creep passed and he can find the energy to move.

Instead, he glares. “Good for you. Now get the fuck out, kid.”

Dick grimaces but shakes his head. “Not until you answer a question for me.”

Slade groans and, for a handful of seconds, honestly contemplates just killing him, considers it in a way that he hasn’t since before he even met the kid, back when he was first handed a file by a practically no name organization called H.I.V.E.

He’d regret it later. Sure. He has too much he wants to see out of the kid to kill him in a shitty, dusty apartment. But, that regret would come later. Later, once this day had finally passed.

That alone is almost enough to have him reaching for his gun. Almost

“Grayson,” he finally grounds out, “if you know what day it is, you know I’m not exactly inclined to play our game of hero and villain right now. You want information, find someone else.”

“Good, I’m not here to play either. Only problem is I can’t ask anyone else, you're the only one who knows the answer.” Dick lowers himself to sit on the floor across from him, like a particularly stupid mouse in front of a viper.

And then, he looks up and his eyes are too steady to belong to prey.

“Here’s the question: Do you really want to be alone today, Slade?”

The breath catches in Slade’s`lungs, harsher than if the kid had just punched him.

He pushes the reaction down, already knowing it’s too late, and says in the steadiest voice he can manage, “Yes.”

Dick stares at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

The air around them is too tight, too burning, and Slade’s being pushed down under it to suffocate.

He can’t fight it, so he takes it and pushes it back into anger. “The fuck, kid! What do you know? You said you have my file, yeah? How long have you had it? Because I’m betting you’ve had it since we first met!” He lunges forward. “So, why are you here now, Dick? What makes this year so special? What’s made you decide to pretend to care now? Because whatever it is, kid, I can promise you, I’m not worth it. So, leave!”

By the end, he’s gripping Dick’s shirt, pulling it tighter until the collar has to be digging painfully into his neck.

Dick doesn’t look away. “No.”

Slade doesn’t look away either. “You know I really think I might kill you right now.”

“You won’t.”

One of Slade’s hands moves until it’s pressing into the kid’s neck. A single sharp twist and he could snap it. “So sure?”

Dick nods.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I brought your favorite whiskey.”

A brown bag is pressed into Slade’s ribs and the man feels something rising in his chest that could possibly be laughter if it was some other time.

He drops the kid.

He takes the bag.

“Pretty sure heroes aren’t supposed to be contributing to alcoholism, kid.” He gestures to a half empty bottle of much cheaper stuff beside him.

Dick coughs, rubbing at his throat. “Please. With your metahuman metabolism, I bet you can barely feel it for an hour.”

“Depends how much I drink,” Slade counters, eyeing the bottle. “How’d you know my favorite?”

Dick shrugs. “Gotta keep some secrets to myself.”

He fishes out a spare shot glass from somewhere in the black folds of his outfit and pours a small glass for himself.

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you’re still 18, kid.”

Dick gives him an incredulous look in return. “Last time I checked, this place doesn’t have a drinking age...or a government, actually.”

Slade hums, amused, using a larger glass for himself. “True, but thought you’d be following the laws of your own birth city a little closer, hero. Gotham’s still at 21...on the record at least.”

“Technically, Gotham’s not my birth city.” Dick snorts and takes the shot.

Slade tilts his head. “Where were you born?”

Dick pauses, thinking, before offering a sheepish smile. “You know….I actually have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, probably? I came early, the circus was still on tour. One of the lion tamers helped deliver me, used to be a doctor.”

“Always a surprise, kid,” Slade shakes his head, draining his glass. Tasting it in his mouth and pretending it’s enough to wash away the ash.

The next words come before he can stop them. “...Adeline always wanted two kids.”

Dick goes quiet.

“Of course,” Slade says to his glass and fuck it, just fuck it, “turns out we didn’t even get the one. Turns out I didn’t get either my wife or my son.”

Fuck, he hates October 7th.

He reaches for the whiskey, ignoring how his hand shakes. “Addy was a soldier, you know? A good one. Of all the stupid fucking ways she could go, I never thought it’d be childbirth. Maybe I should have. Always knew I’d kill her somehow.”

“You didn’t kill her, Slade,” Dick says softly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he agrees, too tired to argue. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard every variation sometime or another. It’s just right now, he can’t quite bring himself to debate about the cause when the end of it’s always going to be the same.

Dick drops the subject and the relief that Slade feels is immense enough that it’s close to gratitude.

“What was your son’s name?”

“Grant. We were going to name him Grant.” He takes another sip. “If we had another one, we were going to name him Joseph. Or Rose for a girl.”

“Those are good names.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Slade doesn’t answer, looking up to eye the kid over his drink. Dick sees it, holding up his own glass in acknowledgement before knocking it back.

“Why are you here, kid,” Slade asks again. “We’re not friends, pretty far fucking from it last time I checked.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answers calmly.

“If you’re here to make your usual sales pitch about the virtues of heroism, I really will kill you. Whiskey or not.”

Dick shakes his head. “....is it so hard to believe I just didn’t think you should be alone?”

Slade thinks his skepticism is loud enough without him needing the words.

The look Dick gives him is steady in return. “Think what you want to, Slade, I know what grief feels like. It’s a poison. It’ll kill you unless you find a way to drain it.”

Dick looks down at his own glass and Slade gets the feeling the kid’s no longer talking about just Slade. It’s still a tossup whether he means himself or the Bat.

Either way, Slade makes sure his next smirk is particularly pointed. “And, look at you. Tracking me all the way down here to try and save my tortured soul. Such a hero.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick says with an eye roll, pouring himself another drink

Slade cocks his head. “Speaking of, don’t all the good little heroes have school right about now.”

Dick looks up, almost sheepish. “I’m ditching my classes. Don’t tell my brothers, I’m still trying to be a good influence.”

Slade snorts and takes a particularly long swig.

A good influence. As if a single one of his stupid, fucking team doesn’t think the fricking sun shines out of the kid’s ass.

Fuck. What is Slade even doing? Sitting in a run down apartment in the middle of a warzone drinking whiskey with a too trusting kid a decade younger and that he probably should have killed years ago.

But, then, it’s always been exceedingly difficult for him to do what he should---what’s the sane and logical thing--when it comes to Dick Grayson. And, one day--when he doesn’t have the burn of booze sitting in his gut and his chest doesn’t ache like he’s been shot--Slade’s going to take a hard look at why that is.

For now, he’ll just leave it like he usually does. The kid’s too interesting to die yet.

Dick eyes his shot glass, contemplatively. “This whiskey’s way too overpriced, Slade. It’s practically aged vodka.”

Slade finishes his off steadily. “Shows you have little taste, Grayson.”

Dick laughs and slides the bottle over. “I brought another one anyway.”

....Far, far too interesting.

#atfo #my writing

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littledreamybeth · 5 years

Text

Angel Daddy

A/N: I wrote this in the middle of the night so it might make not much sense :D Enjoy!

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, will probably cause heartbreak

Her alarm went off. It rang and rang and rang and rang. There seemed no end. She didn’t turn it off. She had no power to stretch out her arm and shut it off. Instead, she reluctantly opened her eyes, just watching the red numbers depicted on the small device situated on her nightstand. She waited patiently- waited until the shrill, annoying sound stopped echoing through her bedroom. But it did continue. It continued, and she felt like her ears were bleeding. Rage started boiling in her veins, and the longer it took, the more she had the urge to smash the clock down, watching it break into pieces. Just like she had let her heart shatter into pieces. Seeing the broken parts scattered on the ground would bring her the greatest satisfaction, but no matter how much she’d love to do it, she also did not want to go outside to buy another. Being surrounded by people was the last thing she currently craved for.

It had been a while since she had been under people. She couldn’t tell how long it had been, perhaps days, weeks, or even months- she didn’t know. She had lost track of time. Was it Monday or Tuesday? Thursday or Friday? Was it May? Or June already? She really didn’t know. The world outside her apartment went on while hers had stopped. People carried on with their lives, practiced their daily routines and worked hard like a maniac. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had been at work. She had completely isolated herself from civilization, hiding behind the walls of her home.

Home. She scoffed, tears pooling her eyes. Home isn’t what it used to be anymore. A tear had found its way down her cheeks, shortly after the next followed. Then another tear started running, and it went on and on until she became a crying mess, heavy sobs leaving her already sore throat. Y/N was used to crying- it had become a part of her new life. Her fingers dug deep into the cushion she had her head rested on, her face pushed into the soft material to muffle her sobs. The all-too well known pain appeared between her ribs, gnawing on her heart as if something was still there. Literally speaking, she was alive, however, it didn’t feel like it at all. She wondered how she could be if she was already dead inside.

She lifted up her head, then facing towards the empty side of the bed. There was a time where another body was resting on that now cold, abandoned spot. Somebody with strong muscular and tattooed arms holding her, protecting her while she was asleep. Somebody whose heart was wider than the entire universe, too precious for this world. That vital organ, whose owner had been Y/N, was too kind and too valuable. The day it stopped beating was the day Y/N had fallen into an abyss with no familiar arms to catch her. He wasn’t there to assure her that everything was fine. He was no longer there. Gone too soon.

Y/N missed his forest-green eyes and his dimples when he smiled. She missed his throaty laugh and his warm touch. Funny how things can change from one second to the other. One minute you’re the happiest woman on earth, and the minute after your happiness is taken away from you, giving you no chance to spend more time, to create new memories, to enjoy togetherness. Everything happened with the blink of an eye, and now she must mourn over the loss of the man she loved more than anything in this world. She would’ve given everything to feel his soft hands on her- to feel the rapid beating of his heart under her fingertips. Her ears were deprived from his voice- how much did she wish he would call out for her again. The only times she heard his voice was when she cried herself to sleep while listening to the songs he’d left behind.

Her family was worried sick about her. Even though they knew she was going to change and wasn’t going to be their funny, happy, cheerful and vibrant Y/N anymore, they did not expect her to change this drastically. She was basically a walking corpse with no vital force. Her once tanned skin was now pale. Her once bright, shining eyes were now dull and empty. She didn’t talk anymore. She hadn’t used her voice properly for months- only if she really had to. There was barely anyone around with whom she could lead a conversation anyway. She cut everyone out.

Each day, Y/N was taking steps further to depression.

Her parents offered her to visit a psychiatrist, even proposed to accompany her, but she declined. From her perspective, she wasn’t insane, but her family shared different opinions on that matter. They had had to watch their daughter whither away like a rose. Who could’ve known that she was going to change 360 degrees? A young woman, no longer willing to live, but still clinging on to life because she had someone who was dependent on her.

Her love had left a legacy behind- a little baby girl.

A small baby who currently had learned how to stand on her own legs. Her chubby legs- he would’ve loved to gently sink his teeth into the little one’s skin. She was almost one year old and very vocal, babbling things no one could identify. Her first word was ‘dada’, and Y/N couldn’t figure out where she could’ve picked this up from since there was no daddy around. It was probably her sister teaching her niece how to say it- she lived with them to support Y/N, helping her out to make life a bit more bearable.

Y/N did not keep in touch with her in-laws. She couldn’t face them because of how similar they looked to him. It was already hard enough to look at her daughter who was the replica of her father without the need to cry. His mother understood- a mourning mother who sometimes wanted to crawl into a hole and never appear again. But the woman, called Anne, stressed that she wanted to see her grandchild often as possible because the baby girl was the only thing left of her son. She couldn’t lose her. So, Y/N’s sister drove little angel back and forth.

Her attention was now glued onto the large picture hanging on the wall. It was him displayed on it, beaming a smile towards her direction.

If he was looking down at her from above, then he must be very disappointed in her. He would complain that Y/N was barely taking care of herself. He used to a lot in the past because her wellbeing was an important factor for him. He would’ve wanted her to stay strong- especially for the baby.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, wishing that he would answer her. “I’m sorry for being such a failure, for not being strong enough. I can’t… I can’t without you.”

Another sob wrecked her body. “How can I drink or eat, knowing you can’t do it anymore? Tell me, how could I go outside and enjoy things while you’re stripped off that opportunity? You’re everywhere, Harry. In every place, every corner, there is a part of you… I cannot just go out and pretend to be strong as everyone expects when I’m so truly broken… I just can’t…”

She wiped the salty liquid with the sleeve of her pajama bottom. “Why you, Harry? Why does it have to be you?! Why do always good people die?! Why?!”

She couldn’t fathom what Harry did to be cruelly punished at such young age. He had been barely 30 years old when he passed away. One crash was enough to end his life immediately. He was dead on spot. It was a shock for all relatives, as well as for the entire world. Y/N tried to console herself that he at least did not suffer. No pain. Just eternal rest.

“I love you…I love you so much…” Y/N said, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again but please, wait for me…”

The young woman freed herself from the bedsheets and got up from bed. Her sister would be waking her soon anyway. Her head ached terribly from the amount of crying, so she strolled her way to the bathroom to take some medicine. When she passed the nursery, she suddenly stopped. Little squeaks could be heard from behind the door. Her baby daughter was laughing, and Y/N was wondering why. Baby girl should be normally asleep at this time. Curiosity eating her alive, she slowly pushed down the handle and slightly opened the door, taking a peek through the gap.

She furrowed her brows when she saw her angel sitting on her bed, clapping with her tiny hands while gazing at something in front of her. However, there was nothing that Y/N could see. She watched her daughter trying to get up, her fingers clasping the edge of her bed. She bounced on her chubby legs and laughed at whatever made her laugh. Then suddenly, baby girl stumbled backwards and fell down on her little bum, while rubbing her nose, as if someone had poked her. Y/N wanted to interfere, however, her heart skipped a beat when her daughter raised both of her arms to the air and squealed, “Dada, up.”

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akirakurusuimagines · 4 years

Text

The Reaper’s Game

@p5auweek day five: Crossover with another fandom AU (The World Ends With You)

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Akira looked up at the figure he once partially considered an ally, his vision hazy, head spinning, and body numb, the combination of drugs, exhaustion, and failure weighing heavily on the boy who stood up against fate. He had barely processed the muffled gunshot that Akechi fired at the guard who let him in and the subsequent thud on the floor of the corpse, much less the way that the same gun was aimed at him, ready to take his own.

Akechi spoke, but Akira could barely hear him. His blood was pounding in his ears, arms trembling ever-so-slightly. He didn’t want to die… but he had failed, and this was the consequence of his hubris. Memories of a blue butterfly’s words rang in his head: this is truly an unjust game; your chances of winning are almost none. Where did things go wrong?

“Case closed,” Akira finally processed the words, his eyes widening as the barrel hovered right over his forehead, the smoking gun ready to fire once more. “This is how your ‘justice’ ends.”

Akira felt an electrifying shock of pain followed by the sound of the muffled gunfire, and then...nothing.

Only darkness.

Emptiness.

The leader of the Phantom Thieves that took the nation by storm was dead.

“Nngh…” the bustling sounds of Shibuya crossing made Akira’s ears ache. It took him several moments to come to complete consciousness, feeling the rough texture of concrete against his face. He slowly sat up, dizzy, surprised to see where he was⁠— why was he here? Was this some sort of sick joke? He died, he knew he did! And yet, there he was, a familiar spot in Tokyo, full of people of all ages who ignored him, simply walking on the striped lines, aiming for a destination he couldn’t possibly guess.

Akira felt queasy thinking about his own death, not wanting to remember the strange sensation of having his brains blown out. Akira’s shaky hand came up and pressed against his forehead, trying to feel for where the bullet went through, but searched as he might, he found nothing. It was just his fluffy black hair and his smooth skin. He sighed in relief, honestly unsure of what he would’ve done if it turned out that he did have the wound on his face. This was all too confusing. Was it a dream? Akira wasn’t sure, but he figured nothing would change if he just sat there all day.

He stood up, but the unmistakable gentle clink of something dropping caught his attention. A pin? He didn’t recognize it, but figured it must’ve been on his person. Akira looked around for a moment to see if anyone was searching for it before he knelt down and took it in his hand, tossing it up in the air and catching it, only to feel a strangely familiar sensation. My third eye? He was astonished with how it activated without his prompting, and clutched the strangely designed pin in his hand once more, noting the way it dissipated.

“What the hell is going on…?” Akira mumbled, shoving the pin in the blazer’s pocket of his school uniform and fishing around for his phone or any other interesting things he had for some odd reason or another. He wondered if he’d even have it, considering the police confiscated it when he was arrested. The sudden weight in his front pocket accompanied by his ringtone made Akira nearly jump out of his skin, and he scrambled to retrieve it.

Reach 109.

You have 60 minutes.

Fail, and face erasure.

The Reapers

Akira stared at the message for several seconds, wondering if he should take it seriously. He made note of the time, just in case, but began to scroll through his phone in hopes that he would be able to contact someone⁠. His phone did say that he had full signal, so he didn’t think it would be a problem, until he realized that he couldn’t back out of the message.

“What?” Akira tried and tried again, each time resulting in failure, no matter what he did or what he tried. Not even the small hacks Futaba had taught him were useless. “Ouch⁠—!” a sudden sting of pain erupted in his left hand, as if he had been burned with a branding iron. He turned it over, eyes widening as he watched as a timer ticked away on his hand, something he believed should be impossible, yet it made the threat on his phone much more terrifying. Erasure… what did that even mean?

He didn’t have time to ponder anything as strange symbols began to float in his peripheral vision, every nerve in his body screaming for him to run. But he couldn’t. Akira’s feet were frozen in place as he watched the symbols manifest into creatures that oddly resembled shadows, clearly intent on swarming him. “This isn’t the Metaverse, what the hell is going on?!” he was frustrated, and rightfully so, barely dodging a swipe from something that seemed like a bear, if not for the colors and painted-on appearance of its arms.

“Damn it⁠—” Akira seethed, looking for a way out. Luckily, even if it wasn’t the Metaverse, his experience from being Joker was a great advantage he had under his belt. Spotting an opening, Akira ducked under the monster’s swing, feeling rather light, and made a bolt for the crowd, breathing heavily as he continued to run, only stopping when he was sure he lost sight of them.

“Somebody! Anybody!” Akira yelled out, the strange pit of despair welling up in his stomach as he slowly came to the realization that no one was intentionally ignoring him⁠— they couldn’t see him. Nor those creatures, apparently. Was he in some sort of hell? He never thought it would be like this when he died. Maybe if he was a little more religious, he could’ve avoided this.

Akira noticed he had run all the way towards Hachiko, right next to the train station. He should be able to get to Yongen from there, but remembering the message on his phone made his skin crawl. 109 was his destination— it was better to figure out what was going on first, especially with that ominous threat.

“Aaaahhh!!” A series of shrill shrieks snatched Akira’s attention, and he watched in horror as those very same monsters he believed he had outrun were attacking those he thought to be civilians. In a matter of seconds, several people disappeared from the crowd as if they were never there to begin with.

He stumbled back, watching the shadow-esque creatures approach him. They… they were erased. It made sense to him now, but that didn’t solve the problem of how he was going to escape these things. He could only run for so long, and they seemed relentless. Still⁠— he didn’t have much of a choice. Akira took one last look at the impending doom before sprinting away, only to collide with you, causing you both to tumble, with him landing on top of you.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go⁠—!” Akira exclaimed, just barely figuring out the fact that he could touch you, and his shock only increased when you cupped his cheeks out of the blue, not moving to push him off of you or anything.

“There’s no time, make a pact with me! Now!”

He thought you were a little crazy, being so bold and then suddenly asking for a pact? “What?”

“Just agree! We’ll both be erased if you don’t! Hurry!”

Akira took one look over his shoulders and shuddered, seeing them approach. “A-Alright,” he nodded, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. “I accept⁠—”

No sooner than he uttered those words did a wave of light wash over you two, and a strange feeling not unlike the one he felt as he created new bonds secured your fate with his.

“Look out!” somehow, you seemed to know what you were doing, hastily apologizing before kicking him off of you, barely dodging yourself as one of those large beasts slammed its fist down on the ground where you two were just laying, standing up and getting into an offensive position. “Can you fight?”

“I⁠ don’t—”

“Just try!”

Akira looked skeptical as he rose, though he figured that considering the Metaverse and personas existed, there must be a way to fight. It couldn’t hurt to try and call on Arsène somehow. He wondered if he would be able to, stuck in his school uniform, no mask to rip off, but the rebellious fire in his soul never diminished. Akira was Arsène, and Arsène was Akira just the same. “Come, Arsène!” Akira extended a hand outward, momentarily stunned seeing the familiar red arm and black claws mimicking his movement.

“Holy shit⁠,” he heard your voice from behind him, clearly surprised seeing him summon Arsène. Not a second later watched as you lit the assailant on fire, inexplicably hovering over the ground for a split second. “But I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve too.”

Akira was silently grateful for the hours of torture he put himself through in the gym as he spun around and kicked, watching as Arsène’s heel sliced through one of them, erasing them in the same manner they had erased the others.

He heard static and watched as you dusted your hands and shirt off, before rushing over to him. Akira had to admit he thought you might’ve been aiming to punch him, but when you threw your arms around his neck, cheering, he couldn’t help but smile. You two had survived for now— but it wasn’t going to be enough. You had to keep moving, especially because more of those damn things were going to come after you.

“We did it! I can’t believe we did it⁠! I can’t believe I found a partner, and a powerful one at that, I⁠—”

“There’s no time to relax,” Akira gently pulled you off of him, confusion written all over his face. “You know what’s going on, right?” he looked at his left palm, wincing as the timer read 30:28, “Can you explain… all of this? But we should probably keep moving, those monsters are going to come after us again.”

“No, we’re safe now,” you explained, still grinning out of relief. “They won’t attack us out of the blue now that we have a pact. Anyways, sorry for before. I should introduce myself,” you stuck out your hand for him to shake, telling him your name. “I hope we get along! We have a long week ahead of us.”

Choosing to ignore the words that only made him more confused, Akira took your hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Akira Kurusu, nice to make your acquaintance,” he cleared his throat and shoved his hand in his pocket quickly after, looking away, up towards the skyline where he saw the brim of 109. “What the hell is all of this?”

“I think it’s the reaper’s game.”

“The what now?”

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, “you might not believe me, but it’s true. I’m… something of a casual occultist? I just enjoy reading those types of stories. Anyways, I’ll explain while we head to ten-nine.”

“You got the message too?”

“Every player did. You have a timer on your hand, right? We don’t have time to waste, let’s go,” you declared, marching forward with confidence now that you had a partner to help you battle against the creatures.

Akira had to jog to catch up to your quick speed. “Slow down! I still don’t understand what’s going on!” He was starting to wish that you were Morgana with how you were unintentionally dodging his questions. A sudden, nauseating swarm of emptiness overtook Akira at the thought of his roommate who was most certainly not a cat, and subsequently, the other Phantom Thieves. How were they all? Were they stuck in this hellscape too? He was worried, and rather stunned to have seen no news about him or the Phantom Thieves at all, not even as he passed by hundreds of people.

Even so, he didn’t have much of a choice of what to do. Akira simply had to trust you, and trust you he would. If it meant the both of you surviving until the end of this week, he’ll do anything.

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