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gothhisoka · 3 years

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𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 (𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Title: Worship

Pairing: Chrollo x Femreader

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI, 18+, explicit content

Word Count: 3116 (I promise it is worth it. Oh god is it worth it)

Note: This is from my cross-published fanfic called Hunter University! It is available if you click here on Wattpad and AO3. My fanfic is x OC, but I upload x Reader versions of some chapters here on Tumblr. In short, it is a dark academia college AU with Chrollo as the main love interest.

Background: You are an artist in college and Chrollo is your fellow classmate. You just returned from a night out at a ball, drunk. Chrollo appeared at the door to your dorm room as he promised he would after you danced with one another at the ball.

Chrollo was surprised you looked so intact. He was sure you would come waddling to the door in pajamas as you did the last time he visited your room. Although it had been an hour since the ball ended, your makeup hadn't smudged a bit. Sure, it was faded, and your hair was significantly messier, but overall you looked as remarkable as you did at the start of the ball.

Your tired eyes widened with surprise at the sight of him. He was just as unimpaired as you were. Though now he was missing his suit jacket. His hair had become slightly disheveled, losing its styled waves. He still had on those signature silver rings and little cross earrings.

You attempt to soak in his sight with your intoxicated brain. He looked even more captivating in this particular state.

“Hi…” was all you could utter.

“Can I come in?”

You realized he was waiting for your permission. He didn’t need it.

You stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. Your room was the same as the last time he saw it, with your drawings hung on the walls and lights strung above the desk. Their small bulbs reflected against the night-stained window.

Upon shutting the door, the tension noticeably rose. It was dark in the small space and you were alone. Chrollo took his black dress shoes off near the door, placing them neatly side by side.

So he plans on staying. You tried to hide a smile. The hour of his visit was surely suspicious. There could be only one thing on his mind.

"So what're you doing here?" you spoke nonchalantly, acting like you didn't just fantasize about what could happen in the next few minutes.

Chrollo opened and shut his mouth, his response escaping him. He turned back to you and used his eyes to convey a craving far deeper than any words could admit.

"I said I would come to find you, didn't I?" He said lowly.

He had begun to walk around the room, absentmindedly stopping at a piece of art from time to time. You were too tired to care. The collection included nature scenes, portraits of people he didn't recognize, anatomy studies, and...

He paused, noticing a drawing on the wall behind the place where the door would otherwise be covering.

It was a full-body anatomy study of yourself. To be specific, it would fit further in the category of a glorified nude. It was on a miniature piece of parchment sketched in charcoal. It was obviously you: the woman had your (hair color) hair and distinct mouth and nose. The paper was hardly noticeable amongst the scatter of papers. You wouldn't see it unless you had a careful eye such as that of Chrollo.

You hardly noticed when he reached the particular spot on your wall. Your tiredness had waned significantly with Chrollo's entrance, but it still fogged your mind.

Additionally, you had long forgotten about your secret behind-the-door location for your drawings that were not meant to be seen by a single soul.

Chrollo attempted to hide a mysterious smile. He turned to you, “You draw wonderfully.”

“Thanks?” you reply, with more question in your tone than you hoped to show.

The heat in the room shot through the roof. You were sure if you checked the temperature it would be well above its normal chilly state. Perhaps it was the heat in your cheeks that was causing such a change.

“So…” he began.

“So,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact. Please, just let it happen already.

You thought you had a good idea of why he had come to your room at one o'clock in the morning after a night of drinking and questionably close dancing. You couldn't be certain, though, because that was just how he was: unpredictable and exceedingly complicated.

You didn’t think him so complicated as to not be able to admit why he was at your room, though.

You waited as he thought about what to say next. This is taking too damn long.

Luckily, you prepared an excuse. You never failed to come ready for something you could expect. And this, the direction in which your encounter is headed, is inevitable. You had been rehearsing the line in your head for the duration of their conversation like reviewing terms for a test.

This was the only way to test if your assumptions are correct.

Blame it on the champagne if I am wrong. But I really hope I'm right.

You look directly at him. Time to be daring.

You took a breath and did your best to look directly at him, "Well, I actually do need some help. You see, this dress is quite difficult to take off by myself..."

Walking towards him, you place a hand at the hem of your dress. Your delicate fingers wrap around its lacy fabric.

Chrollo looked amused. He sizes you up, looking from your hand holding the hem of your dress to your unfazed expression. Unfazed, yet your cheeks were slowly turning a shade of scarlet. Nice try, Chrollo thought.

He gestured, "Turn around."

You obeyed. You desired something far more than the unzipping of your dress, but you were not presumptuous enough to say it. The expression on Chrollo's face told you that he was hoping for the same thing. He hid many emotions well, but being turned on wasn't one of them.

Chrollo brushed your hair away from the zipper, delicately placing it over your shoulder. His fingers purposefully grazed your back as he did this, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His hands moved to the zipper, carefully pulling it down. It went past the clasp of your bra to your lower back. There was complete silence. Both of you were still. Are we still hesitating?

Chrollo was the first to move. He pulled you close to him so that your back was touching him. His left arm wrapped across your chest possessively, holding you in a tight embrace. With his other hand, he brushed your hair back from your ear. He smelt of sweet alcohol. Clearly, he was slightly drunk as well, for the next words he said couldn't be uttered by a sober man.

His whispered breath tickled your neck, husky with the threat of sleep, "I want you so bad right now."

You tensed with a sudden surge of desire. Your impression had been right. He let his strong arm remain around you, patiently waiting for a response.

You choked out your reply, "The feelings' mutual."

Under his touch, your streak of audacity from earlier dissolved into compliance. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to submit to his words.

With complete control, Chrollo took your shoulder and turned you around. Your dress was now loose on your shoulders. He placed his hands around your hips firmly. He looked at you under his thick eyelashes and slowly leaned in. The pressure was growing to an unbearable level, but he still wouldn't go all the way.

Then his lips crashed against yours with the force of weeks of pent-up desire. This kiss didn't speak of courtesy, of patience. This was raw passion. It was furious and messy. you preferred this to sensitive steps around the intensity they both craved.

"You must still be drunk," you said playfully as you both pulled away to catch your breath. You held your hand to Chrollo's chest. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"If I'm drunk, then what are you?" Chrollo said with a lazy smirk.

"I'm drunk as well."

Chrollo threaded his hands through your hair, pulling the long strands through his fingers. He pulled you in close again with his hand at the back of your head.

You opened your mouth to allow for Chrollo's tongue to slip in. He lessened the intensity and slowly moved his tongue against your own tongue and lips. You couldn't help but let out soft moans that made Chrollo weak at the knees.

He pushed you against the wall to deepen your kiss. Drawings fluttered down, becoming detached with the sudden movement. Including that drawing.

Chrollo pulled away, much to your shock. You were left panting with reddened cheeks. Please don't let this end now.

He displayed a shit-eating grin. Even with his ego, in the current moment, his expression made you melt. His face was inches from yours, looking down into your (eye color) eyes.

He shifted his gaze down to the floor and said, "Nice drawing you have there."

You finally noticed what he had been so smug about. Shit. Your face flushed ten different shades of scarlet.

Chrollo leaned in as he did before and murmured in your ear, "I wish I could see the real thing."

You failed to not show your excitement. The way your eyes lit up exposed you. "I can arrange that."

At that, Chrollo leaned in again, this time moving to your neck. His lips fluttered down your throat to your collarbone. You leaned your head back and tried to control your uneven breath.

His lips reached the edge of the neckline on your dress. He raised his eyes to meet yours, asking for permission to go further.

You let out a breathy, "Yes. Please."

What you wanted to say was, Please, take me now.

It could be too soon for him. But based on how this was going, you expected it was leading to something more. Whatever that was, you wished you could know right now. The growing tension between your thighs began to ache.

Chrollo slipped his hand across your skin to the hemline of your dress, moving it completely off of your shoulder and down your arms. Your black see-through bra was now in full view. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure.

At least I went with my fancy bra. You suddenly grew very shy. The last time you went even this far was years ago.

He evidently liked the lingerie for his hands immediately traveled to your breast to caress it as he continued to kiss you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck. Your heart fluttered at his words.

Chrollo then moved his lips progressively further down as he slipped your dress off of your body. Soon your underwear came into view, then your feet. He helped your step out of the dress.

"Your turn," you said, unbuttoning his shirt. All the while he continued to distractingly leave lazy kisses upon your face, one on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

After an agonizingly long time, you pulled off his shirt. Fuck.

You knew he would be defined. But him, this boy standing in front of you, resembled more of a greek statue than an actual human. It looked like his body had been sculpted by the finest stone on earth. He had a six-pack, defined pectoral muscles, and prominent collarbones. His biceps flexed as he leaned his hand against the wall, bracing himself. It was you who needed to brace yourself. Your breath hitched again at the sight of him.

You ran a hand up his firm body as you planted your lips upon his once again. This time Chrollo put his hands beneath your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He picked you up easily.

You wrapped your legs around him as he brought you to the bed, kissing him all the while.

He dropped you down gently, releasing his grip off of your thighs. You took this time to look up at him and admire the beauty of his aroused state. He had a dangerous and wild look, with tousled hair and a constant smile playing at his lips. His heavy-lidded eyes were lazily focused upon you.

You continued to make out on the bed, its white silk sheets creating an angelic halo around you. Chrollo couldn't stand looking at you like this, underneath him. It was far too much power for one man to hold.

You reached to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You threw it to the ground. Chrollo immediately began to touch your naked tits in a way that made you want to dissolve. He moved in circles around your nipples first, watching as they grew harder under his expert touch. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive area, playing with you and biting slightly. You audibly moaned at the gesture. Damn the neighbors.

Chrollo sensed your desire to take it further. He looked up, grey eyes filled with lust, "Y/n...let me pleasure you."

It wasn't the suggestion you were expecting, but you were satisfied nonetheless. You didn't care about anything in the world besides what he could do to you at this moment, whatever it may be.

"If you say my name like that you can do anything you want to me," you said breathily. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Chrollo smirked and moved to take off your soaking underwear. Under his pants, his dick grew visibly harder. He threw the underwear onto the floor.

Gently placing his finger at your throbbing core, he began to stroke. Upon receiving his touch your back arched involuntarily. You were beyond eager.

"Fuck... Chrollo..."

This served as encouragement for him to insert his finger deeper into you, curling it slightly. It hit your g-spot repeatedly, eliciting ungodly sounds from you.

As he was doing this, he slowly positioned himself on top of you, grabbing onto the bed frame with his spare hand. He just wanted to look at your face as you opened your mouth in delight.

He inserted one more finger which caused your arousal to heighten. God, he really knows how to do this.

Just as you felt the heat in your core escalating, he slid his finger out. You whimpered in protest.

Chrollo looked down at you with a wicked smile. "Beg for it."

Oh fuck.

You gladly would. It was more your instincts speaking than any coherent thought.

"Please... Chrollo..." you said between breaths.

You wanted to not only plead for him, you wanted to worship him.

"More."

This is what you had been missing out on all those weeks. And oh god, did you eat it up.

"FUCK please do that again," you exclaimed.

It was enough to convince him. Chrollo moved his face towards your slickened pussy.

Is he about to...

He pushed his hair back out of his face with his clean hand, his forehead tattoo revealed. For only a second, he raised his eyes to gaze into yours. You fell for him all over again at that simple glance.

Then he entered you. His tongue made you want to weep. He devoured your insides, soaking up the salty juices. You couldn't help but hold his head, pulling it closer to your body. You ran your hand through his soft black hair. There was so much heat between them that you were both perspiring.

You began to shudder." I'm going to... oh... fuck," you gasped.

You felt the sweet release of cum spread below you onto the sheets and Chrollo himself. You felt self-conscious for a moment. That is until Chrollo began to lick up your juices. He ran his tongue up your soft thighs.

"You taste so fucking good, darling."

Chrollo looked at you like he had fallen all over again as well. You grinned back at him. Your cheeks grew even redder, if possible. Your heart screamed to continue but you were too physically exhausted to move. Still, wouldn't Chrollo want his turn?

You laid there, naked and panting on the silk sheets. Chrollo flopped next to you, unaffected beside his flushed cheeks and a wide grin.

The lights were still low in the little room. Looking out the window, you saw that the sun had yet to rise. This was a positive fact because the only thing you needed to do now was to sleep. And preferably, cuddling with the boy next to you. You hoped he would stay. It was more than hope, really. Your body couldn't spend any more time away from him after that.

Damn. He was good. He was really, really fucking good.

He knew his way with words, to begin with. He said exactly what needed to be said to escalate your arousal. You wanted to worship those fingers, the way he so expertly felt around you like he had memorized a map. And his tongue was even more worthy of revere.

You flipped over to your elbows. Your breasts brushed against the bedding, noticeably making Chrollo gulp. You boldly reached to touch the front of his pants.

"You don't want a turn?" you smirked.

"This was more than enough for me."

He stared into your eyes as if he was calculating a complex math problem rather than looking at the person who just received the best head of their life.

You yawned, despite yourself. Your body ached with all the action of the night.

"Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be here."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion stilled your naked body. Chrollo reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn't nearly as tired. He could've gone for a couple more rounds, perhaps take it a step further if you so desired. But he knew you needed the sleep. Most of your makeup had rubbed off, displaying the dark circles under your eyes.

He slipped off his pants and threw them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. He found the soft sheets and pulled them across you and himself. The bed was small but cozy. His strong chest was flush against your back.

Your (hair color) hair smelt of a summer day, like sunlight and wildflowers. He took this opportunity to feel up the rest of your glorious body. He ran his hand lightly from your shoulder to your hips, to your thighs. All of it was angelic to him.

He moved you closer with his arm, protectively wrapping it across your front. Somehow holding you like this felt far more intimate than any sexual activity. The way the moonlight graced your skin was majestic.

How had he fallen so hard, so fast? It was unlike him to act with such recklessness.

Through it all, he still had his mind. you had no way to tell the extent of his feelings. He made sure of this. His libido could act one way, that was clear from tonight. But he was an expert at controlling his outward emotions. You would never know. If you did, it would be over for him. All the planning will be for naught.

He closed his eyes before he could fall upon any more worries. He had already pondered the issue for many sleepless nights.

He fell into a dreamless slumber with you safe in his arms. You both slept soundly until the sun peeked through the window.

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robinofinashiro · 3 years

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@megumitodoroki: “headcannons (maybe a drabble if you want??) for yan tamaki and yan kirishima with a pregnant darling? ( i saw the hawks and bakugo one, i really liked!!!)”

characters: yandere kirishima ejirou, tamaki amajiki x fem! reader

request status: OPENED / all fandoms I write for are pinned to the top of my page as well as my rules! feel free to request as you’d like! just please be respectful of my rules and if you have any questions, personally message me!

kirishima ejirou:

oooh, fuck, really? you got pregnant with HIS baby? fuck. i mean, kirishima is a great husband, for the MOST part. his issue 99.9999% of the time is that he’s too fucking clingy and it shows. even if he isn’t laying it on thick, everyone can see the way he is around you.

lets say you weren’t home when he found out. you went through the five stages of grief when you found out. the stick was in your hand as you stared at the wall in panic. you were in no mindset to be carrying a child and you knew there would be consequences the longer you waited to tell him.

at first, you planned to end it all and just put you and the fetus out of misery but then you realized.....kiri locked all the knifes, sharp objects, and anything you could think of hurting yourself with away. you knew regardless of what you were thinking, you were going to have his kid whether you wanted too or not.

when kiri came home, you were still in the same position in the bathroom and holding onto the stick in your hand. when he realized what it was, he let out a high pitched scream. you’re pregnant !! like this wasn’t something he was expecting to happen just yet but here you were !! pregnant with his kid.

the first thing he did was make an appointment for you. he needed to know how far along you were and when your projected birth date was. the doctor hadn’t been able to pinpoint what the sex was yet but he didn’t care !! his child was going to be the next red riot !! he was going to make sure of it !!

months into the pregnancy, he started to fix up the nursery. while you were still miserable in the fact that you were pregnant, you knew you got nothing out of loathing from the news and tried to look at the silver linings in all of it. maybe kiri would lay off the rules and give you some freedom. he was already acting different.

when you were in pain, he would be at your call. when he was at work, he made sure someone was there with you. what if something went wrong? he couldn’t trust you on your own. when your mood swings were bad, he would listen to you for once and keep his distance when you asked. when you were starving, he would get whatever it is you wanted.

the nursery was red riot themed. little linings of red everywhere with black incorporated along with it. he had small figures of himself in the crib and on small shelfs around the room. kiri made sure to put pics of the two of you in the room so the kid could see the love you both had for each other. he even went out of his way to make mini outfits of his hero uniform that fit every time he assumed the kid would have a growth spurt.

lets say you end up finding out that you were having not only a boy, they were going to be twin boys, kiri fucking fainted. he doubled everything in the nursery and even built an extra room for the second baby. kiri was ecstatic to say the least. he never thought he’d get twins !! you on the other hand went through another phase of grief knowing that you were carrying twins and that meant that kiri was going to be home more than you wanted him to be.

when you finally go into labor, kiri dropped everything he was doing and fucking SPEED RAN to the hospital. when he got there, you were already under epidural and trying to calm yourself down. the pain was unbearable, even with the epidural. he could see the pain on your face and wanted to cry right along with you. you were even holding onto him, hoping that he did something right for once and tried to calm you down.

when you finally gave birth, kiri bawled like a child. they were both out within a few minutes and while you held one baby, kiri held the other. they had his black hair and your skin tone. he had never seen three beautiful people in his life and here you were, his wife and kids. his life was complete.

tamaki amajiki:

okay cool, tamaki is not horrible yandere so you’re relatively safe for the most part. the thing with tamaki that makes it unbearable to live with is that you can’t do shit. he’s terrified of you even breathing the wrong way tbh. he won’t let you leave the house bc he’s afraid something will happen to you.

the day you found out you were pregnant with his baby, it was bittersweet. you were excited bc although he had abducted and was holding you hostage in his home, tamaki as a person was not a horrible person. he wasn’t mirio and he def wasn’t nejire. you had been feeling sick for a while and every morning you woke up you ran to the bathroom vomiting your guts out.

you refused to tell tamaki bc you knew he would go into full panic if you did. you just had told mirio in secret to bring you a test and drop it off. when he did, you quickly ran to the bathroom and took the test. you were clawing the counter in a bout of anxiety and as soon as the clear blue test rang up positive, you felt dizzy in the head and fell on top of mirio who had offered to stay.

he quickly fanned you as he basically screamed to tamaki to get his ass home. tamaki had dropped everything he was doing and ran to his house. he had no idea why mirio was there and bc the emergency was abt you, he booked it even faster. when he finally got there, you were chugging back a hydroflask full of water and murmured to him the news.

tamaki basically passed out three different times hearing the news. it took mirio, a call to nejire, and yourself to get him out of it. when he finally stopped fainting and realized what you had said, he gave you a long hug, murmuring that finally it happened. he had been wanting kids for so long, as weird as it sounds. he was nervous wreck almost all the time but he wanted to continue his family line with you and hopefully they ended up with your personality.

he scheduled your first doctor appointment a few weeks later and at that appointment, the two of you had found out the exact date and gender. you were having a baby girl !! tamaki was dumbfounded. he was expecting a boy but he wasn’t complaining. he was getting a mini you !! another to love and take care of. that meant that no hero course for his baby girl. nope !! business or support course at the very least.

her nursery consisted of small sun eater figures and outfits. every now and again, he would had lemillion and nejire-chan themed things. your daughter would have mini outfits of all three of them and would have plushies of the three of them in the crib. hell, even the crib set was the big three themed. he and mirio had painted a mural for her and added photos of all four of you to make sure that even if his daughter didn’t have anyone to be her friend, the four of you would always be there.

he didn’t take your change in moods well. frankly, he was terrified of you. there would be days where you would unleash your anger like never before and other days, you’d be sobbing to him. the food you did make though was AMAZING. it was a weird combination that always turned out amazing at the end.

fat gum and kirishima were surprised but excited to hear the news. they bought her a bunch of red riot and fat gum themed clothes as well and fat gum would even bring you food when he was in the area. you were so important to tamaki and he knew that so he had to make sure that you were also important to him too. tamaki upon telling mirio and nejire that you were pregnant told them they were the god parents so they were almost just as protective over you like tamaki was.

the day you gave birth, tamaki was home with you. you were just laying in bed when your water broke and he drove you to the hospital like he was in fast and furious. you were taken back by his actions but he practically screamed at the nurses as soon as you arrived to help you. he made sure to scream to them to give you epidural the minute you asked and if any of them even slipped up once, tamaki would have blood on his hands a few days later, making sure he took care of those useless nurses and doctors. tamaki in this setting was not one to mess with, that’s to say the least.

when you finally gave birth, he cried a bit but not as much as you expected. the time he did cry was when he held his daughter and looked at the two of you. his life was perfect. you had a healthy daughter and you were relatively okay yourself post-birth. the only other time he cried was when he made the three-way call to mirio, fat gum, and nejire to tell them you had finally given birth and all of you were okay.

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a-world-in-grey · 3 years

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Sola/Blood of My Blood - Coming of Age II

@secret-engima part 2 of Sola trolling everyone, and the set up to the actual gala itself.

"Are you sure we're allowed to wear gold?"

Axis gives Tredd an exasperated look. "You're worrying about this now?"

"We're not Chiefs!"

Sola rolls her eyes, keeping her head still as Nyx threads dozens of jeweled pins - gold and tanzanite, Sola really needs to thank the Ornata for making them on such short notice - into her hair to keep the elaborate, flower shaped braids in place.

She's not the only one wearing gems in her hair tonight, even if she has by far the most. They've all swapped out their usual wooden beads for gemstone equivalents - and pearls, in Tredd and Sola's cases. Libertus' hair is braided in a reverse braid down the center of his head, tanzanite and green onyx lining the sides.

If Sola isn't allowed to wear a ponytail, neither is Libertus, dammit!

Luche smacks Tredd's hands away from his jacket lapels. "Stop pulling at it, you'll crease the fabric, and I'm not saving you if you ruin Penny's hard work."

Tredd freezes, then glowers at Libertus when her husband laughs. "You're just as scared of her as I am."

"I know better than ta piss her off." With good reason. Penelopeia gets stab-happy when irritated and some of her pins are long.

Luche sighs as he straightens out Tredd's outfit. "Black is the restricted color in Lucian high society. Only the royal family and their Retinues are allowed to wear it at formal functions."

Even then, Papa, Noctis, Sola, and Libertus are wearing sable; the specific shade of black restricted to the royal family themselves.

Nyx pauses in scrutinizing his handiwork. "What about the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard uniforms then?"

"Same as the Retinue." Sola explains and she carefully tests the security of her braids. "They've sworn service to the King, and wear black and silver to reflect that. I'm neither the ruling monarch nor the Crown Heir, so I and my Retinue wear gold as a cadet branch."

"You are His Highness' Sword." Axis notes thoughtfully. "You could wear silver."

She could. It would be appropriate in Galahdian culture too - of any position in the Retinue it would be the Sword most deserving of that particular color. But Sola's not attending as Noctis' Sword tonight. She's attending as Princess, as the daughter of the King and as such she's wearing gold as tradition dictates.

It's also why she's wearing a Pyre-cursed dress instead of a suit like the rest of Noctis' Retinue.

Don't get her wrong. It's a beautiful dress and Penelopeia earned every last yen making it. Sable silk with golden embroidery, high waisted with flowing skirts and no sleeves on account of it being the end of August.

Sola would still rather wear pants.

"Hang on," Tredd says, "why does the King wear gold then?"

Sola deadpans. "He's the King. He can wear whatever he damn well wants."

Who's going to tell the King no?

"Where are we meeting Prince Noctis?" Libertus asks, testing the draw of the knife tucked in the top of his hose. The small blades that are part of Galahdian formal wear are ceremonial, barely the length of Sola's hand span from tip to hilt, and so elegantly decorated Sola could hang them on her wall as art. Of course, being Galahdian, the blades are just as serviceable in combat as any of their primary arms.

They don't expect to need them tonight, but Galahdian sensibilities and Sola's current condition mean all of them are going to wear them anyway.

"At the doors to the banquet hall." Sola wishes she could wear a weapon herself, but there's nowhere she can hide one and still easily access it given her current outfit. Not being able to use her magic for the next several months is going to drive her nuts. “Noctis will enter first with Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto, and we’ll follow after.”

It will allow them to pull attention from Noctis, rather than Noctis’ arrival pulling attention from them. It’s even following protocol, thank the Six for small mercies, because while Sola’s held the position of Noctis’ Sword for nearly two decades now, without the bond Ignis, Gladio, and now Prompto have with Noctis, Sola is still technically a Wayward Sword.

A fact the Court has yet to realize, but Sola has no doubts some will figure it out tonight.

Another reason for announcing her marriage. Hopefully it’ll keep the idiots distracted. Because if anyone seriously tries to Court Noctis for the ‘open’ position in his Retinue, Sola knows her brother will leave them bleeding out on the floor.

Not, Sola muses wryly, that she’ll react much differently. For the best she doesn’t have access to her weapons then.

She’ll have to settle for gutting them with words. She can do that.

Libertus eyes the smile pulling at red painted lips. “You’re sure about keeping your brother in the dark?”

“Only until tomorrow.” Sola replies. “A surprise birthday gift.”

Noctis will have enough to handle as is, and Sola’s job tonight is to ease the load not add to it. She’d rather Noctis focus on getting through the gala and subsequent ceremony than worry over Sola not being able to use her magic.

He’ll do enough worrying over the next several months. Even though he knows full well that Sola is fine. It’s normal for female Lucis Caelums. Sure, Sola was hoping it wouldn’t happen for another couple days, but she’s adjusted since losing her magic yesterday and she has a full Retinue to protect her if anyone manages to get past Aunt Tiz and Uncle Cor’s security.

And even then, Sola is not so far along she can’t defend herself. She’s never needed weapons or magic to kill a man.

Luche snorts. “You just want to see how many people you can shock at once.”

“Well… yeah.” It’s funny. “I’m hoping to make Uncle Cor faint. Again.” She was there when Aunt Tiz announced her pregnancy and Uncle Cor dropped like a sack of wet cement. Highlight of Sola’s week and made taking over as acting-Captain during Aunt Tiz’s bed rest and maternity leave completely worth it.

Sola doubts Noctis or Ignis will faint, but she’s hoping to get Gladio. Papa is unlikely to pass out learning he’s to be a grandfather again, and Sola doubts nothing will shock Uncle Clarus as much as meeting the Triplets and then Axis in the span of fifteen minutes.

Prompto is proving to be increasingly unflappable, but the blonde at least plays along so Sola can expect a reaction from him even if it’s half-faked. At least one of her fellow Retinue finds her funny.

She’s even taken steps to make sure no one catches on early. None of the dishes tonight contain anything that will set off Sola’s nausea and she’s going to be avoiding all the wine served except for the bare minimum sips required at the beginning of each course. Libertus and Axis will be sitting on either side her, and are prepared for some misdirection to help fool everyone into thinking she’s drinking more than she actually is, and them having her magic means they won’t get as drunk as they would otherwise. Having her Retinue close by the entire night will help prevent anyone with magic sense the changes - and even then Sola knows it’s only because Noctis and Regis’ magic doesn’t give them the same level of sense Sola and Dyn’s gold magic affords them.

Her adorable nephew sensed the changes in Sola shortly after Sola herself, and has since been sworn to silence. Dyn is rather gleeful in being in on the secret and is quite looking forward to surprising his father.

Of course, the scamp’s glee means that Noctis knows there is a secret, but he is indulging Dyn and Sola’s fun.

A knock before Crowe opens the door and pokes her head in. “His Highness is on the move.”

Libertus offers Sola his arm. “That’s our cue.”

Sola gets to her feet and takes it. Her Retinue arranges themselves around them. Nyx at the front, Luche on the right at Libertus’ side, Tredd at her left, and Axis bringing up the rear.

Sola grins, and knows it’s all teeth.

“Show time.”

#ffxv #Shadow of Heaven’s Light #Blood of My Blood verse #fusion #Sola Lucis Caelum #Libertus Ostium #Nyx Ulric #Tredd Furia #Axis Arra #Luche Lazarus #Sola is looking forward to this so much #announcing her marriage #forcing the nobles to swallow the fact that ‘dirty refugees’ are permitted to wear black when they are not #that a ‘dirty refugee’ is now ROYALTY #and the much more well-intentioned trolling of her family with the announcement of her pregnancy #she’s still in her first trimester so she isn’t showing yet #but she is far enough along that her magic can’t be actively used #because using magic puts a massive strain on the body #so female LCs lose access to their active magic while pregnant to protect both mother and child #(which was used to argue against LC queens until the Rogue)#Sola still has her passive magic like her self-healing and passive sensing #she just can’t heal others or extend her magic sense beyond her normal immediate space #or access her armiger or use elemancy or shields or stealth #but she’s most irritated about losing access to the armiger tbh #she can’t access her literal dozens of sharp pointy weapons anymore XD

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Susie you sent so many! Bahaha, I might do some others of yours but otherwise this might be the ask I do out of the ones you sent lolol

Put under a ‘read more’ for length

---

There wasn't much that could rattle Kagome Higurashi.

She remained adaptable, resolute, and forthright throughout most stressful situations, having stepped up to the plate to assist Mama with housework and babysitting after her father had died. She could experience surprise, sure. Mock tests could throw her until she dug her heels in. A guy could ask her out and she'd recover soon enough- slap away a non-consensual kiss or thigh grab easily.

But bone-shaking, heart-stopping, crippling shock? To be blind-sighted by complacency? Only one demon proved capable of doing that.

"Why does it not surprise this one to find you still emerged knee-deep in the fossils of the past, Kagome?" the syllables of her name slip-free in a quiet, resonant baritone.

Kagome jolted, stiffening. Gradually turning within the museum hallway- caught between alarm and confusion- her breath halted.

Gone were his golden eyes and the silver stream of long hair. Instead, he wore contacts, hair short, black and slightly tousled from the wind. Despite all this, if Kagome relaxed her eyes- she could see the suggestion of glamour hazing his appearance, a murky white outline around his hair hinting at its true colour.

Sesshoumaru's cold, handsome face was practically unchanged. Perhaps there were the faintest shifts- his body appearing slightly more built, features just a tad older in the firm line of his jaw.

He presented her with a small potted plant, since he knew she hated cut flowers. The seriousness with which he offered the tiny white flowering bulb almost made her smile, almost. "Congratulations on graduating."

"Thanks," she said automatically, unable to stop staring. She cautiously accepted the gift, skin managing to avoid his touch as though it were a live-wire. "How'd you hear about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"O-oh," she blinked, realising he must've gone to her house first before tracking her down at work. Kagome swallowed, conflicting feelings arising. Shaking them off, she drew her shoulders back and turned flippantly to stride down the hall. "So how’s things? Nice weather we’re having, huh?"

“It has been a long time, miko,” his voice turned solemn, filled with something inexplicable as he followed, keeping pace easily. Kagome pretended not to hear the silky reverence in his tone. “Is there not anything more...substantial, we could be discussing?”

She hummed, “less than five-hundred years isn’t so long.”

“The centuries dragged. I felt every day as though it were a month.”

“I’m sure your mate kept you occupied.”

“This one would not know, I never mated.”

Kagome stiffened, grinding her teeth. “Oh,” she muttered. The life she’d pictured for him fell away, crumbling into ash. Somehow she wasn’t comforted by it.

"You have a boyfriend,” he rumbled, a statement not a question.

"Mama told you that too?" Kagome asked, walking to an exhibit and setting the plant down in favour of gathering her notes, expecting another round of kids fresh off the bus to arrive at any minute.

"No, the hickey on your neck that you've tried to hide with make-up served as enough evidence," he pointed out, vaguely amused.

She reddened a touch, tugging her collar up self-consciously. "Observant as always.”

"It is only a recently acquired skill. Looking back, this one was quite blind during our time together," he hummed. "Lack of experience. I understand plenty now. Would you care for coffee? Strictly platonic, of course."

"... I don't think that's such a good idea, do you?" Kagome gripped her papers tight. "I wouldn’t appreciate my boyfriend meeting up for coffee with an ex."

Sesshoumaru’s eyes glinted, smiling slightly. "And you would not lie by telling him we were friends," his gaze warmed as though savouring something, sweeping ageless attention over her with a lingering, intimate air that made her remember warm lazy mornings spent in his arms.

Kagome’s hands tightened further, crumpling the organised papers, fingers shaking. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

He exhaled, voice soft. "You have not changed."

Her heel drew back, tucking the notes under her arm. Sweaty palms smoothed over her neat blue pencil skirt and blouse. Six years wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough time to get over him.

“Guess not,” she dismissed, refusing to give a snippet of passion. But the acid was there, simmering beneath her tongue. She couldn’t help but glance at him. “...Feels like a waste; you not even mating a pureblood. I thought it meant a lot to you.”

“Pureblooded heirs meant a lot to me,” Sesshoumaru clarified. He stepped closer, and Kagome shuddered, moving back to maintain distance.

Noticing this, the demon stopped. Regret hazed his carefully arranged expression, before he inclined his head, dark bangs hanging forward. “This one did not intend to open old wounds, miko.”

“Then what did you want?” her voice shook.

“To show that I have...changed. It was foolish of me to let you go.”

“You were just upholding your beliefs. It’s not like you ever said you wanted Hanyou kids, I just assumed you’d be fine with it since we were fucking,” Kagome bit out. “Of course, getting your kicks and actually raising half-breeds are two totally different things. I shouldn’t have figured you were over your bigotry- that I’d solved anything by being a really good lay.”

“This Sesshoumaru was wrong-”

“Well lucky you, I didn’t get pregnant during our magical time together, so we dodged a bullet there. It was just miscommunication. A young relationship. I’m over it.”

She didn’t feel over it.

"Look, you've seen me. Can that just be enough? Let’s end it here.”

Sesshoumaru moved closer, gazing at her fervently. He opened his mouth to say more, before it clicked shut, jaw clenching. "If that is what you wish."

"Yep, I'm super busy," Kagome pretended to check her watch, not registering in the time.

"I have an office downtown," he shifted. "If you need a 'non-friend' I am easy enough to find," pausing as he turned- Sesshoumaru slowly reached out. He tucked the tag down at the back of her blouse that had stuck up slightly at the back of her collar. "Some habits are hard to kick, hm?" he uttered softly. He'd used to do the same thing all the time whenever she’d worn modern clothes in the feudal era.

Back when she'd been his.

Kagome’s breath shuddered. "I'm not going to come to your office.”

"Perhaps that is a good idea," a tempting mouth hovered close to her ear. "Otherwise there would be no witnesses to save you, and I'd have to demonstrate the full extent of how much I've missed you, Kagome," his voice barely contained the purr of longing that rolled out between them as he pulled away. Sesshoumaru then turned. He took his leave silently and regally, like nothing had happened.

As though he hadn’t just sauntered in and shattered her all over again.

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome

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hela-avenger · 3 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- 9a

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2177

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Ok so I started to write this and then had to go back to edit it and then I added more and then it was all just angst and it was just getting so long and I couldn’t fix it. ANYWHO, the Halloween special will now be two parts. I’m really hoping it won’t be three but we shall have to wait and see.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Please be safe out there!

Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki refrained from groaning as he stepped into the jet that would take them back to the Tower. Sam and Bucky were fighting over the pilot seat while Wanda was chattering loudly about the costume she had managed to find for herself and Vision. Loki catches your eye and he can tell you wish to speak to him. He doesn’t allow you the chance as he storms out of the seating area in preference of the solitude found in the back.

The quinjet finally sets out of the compound and Loki manages to survive the short ride without being pulled into whatever conversation you wish to have with him. You most likely wanted to know the truth behind what you had revealed previously. An answer he would refuse to give you.

Loki is almost cornered by you in the arrival at the tower but by sheer luck, you are called away by the AI allowing Loki to peacefully make his way down to his residential floor. The peace he had in mind at the return of his familiar abode is disrupted at the sight of Thor waiting for him there.

Loki’s annoyance grows at the sight of his brother regaled in his Asgardian armor swinging Mjolnir with ease.

“Welcome back, brother.”

Loki just grunts in response as he tries to maneuver around the big oaf.

“I went ahead and prepared your armor for the party tonight,” Thor continues with a smile. “It should be a merry night full of drinking and dancing. We should thoroughly enjoy it.”

“I’m not going to that party.”

“Why not?”

“Because I refuse to partake in Midgardian celebrations.”

“I would think you would enjoy this one, Loki. It’s all about mischief and magic.”

Loki rubs his eyes tiredly.

“I am quite tired, brother. I am in no mood for festivities.”

“You never are,” Thor states, forcing Loki to stop right outside his bedroom door. “You always hide out here and avoid having any fun. You’ve been here for months, Loki, and you have failed to participate in any way or form to enjoy humanity.”

“I hate this place,” Loki responds. “Why would I try to find some silver lining?”

“If that is the case then perhaps I should report to father that you have made no progress and have you sent back home.”

That definitely deepens the foul mood Loki was already in.

“If I go to this party will you refrain from reporting to father?”

Thor thinks for a few seconds before relenting.

“Yes, I would.”

“Great, good,” Loki mutters as he slips into the darkness of his room. “I’m not wearing my armor though.”

“Then what will you wear?”

Loki doesn’t respond promptly slamming the door closed to Thor’s face.

The lab was as pristine and proper as the day before you had come in and destroyed it. The wall had been repaired and the equipment that had been easily thrown before was now bolted to the ground. You let out a sigh as you try to forget that dark moment of your life when you had turned against your friends for no reason.

You still couldn’t remember what happened but it still shook you to the very core. The truth was something everyone valued and yet you had overlooked the darkness it could truly hold. Lying didn’t seem so bad now and you miss having the simple ability.

Shaking yourself from that thought, you scanned the rest of the room looking for the man of the hour.

The moment the jet landed at the tower you were promptly told by FRIDAY that Tony requested your presence in the lab.

You tried to make a quick stop towards the Asgardian floor but the AI had overlooked your floor request in preference of following its creator’s demand.

The lab remained silent after you came in. FRIDAY had announced your presence but Tony was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself being watched but could find no one. You were starting to grow paranoid which didn’t help when a loud bang resonated nearby.

Your head snaps towards the source of the crash and you relax when you realize it’s just Dum-E hitting against the nearby desk.

“Oh Dum-E, I thought I was…”

“BOO!”

You jump at the sudden shout behind you. Out of pure instinct, you throw your hands in front of you causing your gauntlets to shoot out two straight lines of energy. The beams scorch two black spots on the recently repaired wall.

“Well that’s new.”

You turn around and glare at Tony.

“What the hell, Tony!” you shout at him. “I could have killed you.”

Tony chuckles in response and is quick to apologize.

“Sorry, kid,” he answers. “Didn’t realize you were Iron Man 2.0.”

You roll your eyes at him and laugh sarcastically at him.

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” you joke. “These things are the only reason I have some semblance of control.”

“Let me see them.”

You raise your hands and show him the golden gauntlets.

“Interesting design,” he mutters as he grabs a hold of them, turning them around back and forth. “I’m assuming the stones are important by their placement. I wonder what they’re made of. Carbon-based, maybe? Rare space jewel? I would have to run some tests…”

“Yeah, not possible,” you comment. “I can’t take these off. Things could go very wrong.”

Tony scowls as he lets your hands go.

“Can’t risk it for a few minutes?” Tony asks. “I’m sure I could improve them for a nicer aesthetic and easier mobility.”

“Tony…”

“Come on,” he nudges. “You don’t see me wearing my blasters because they’re comfortable. It’ll only be a few minutes. Five tops.”

You hesitate and Tony pesters on.

“Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do if you have to wear those atrocities for the rest of your life.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before relenting.

“Just be careful with the stones and be quick, please,” you plead at him. “I don’t wish to have a repeat of my last mishaps.”

Tony snorts as he helps you slide the gauntlets off your hands.

“Heard about that,” he snickers. “A little birdie told me and by birdie, I obviously mean Sam.”

You laugh and shake your head at him watching as he steps towards his desk and pulls out an array of files into the screen. He flips through them quickly before stopping at one.

Pepper Gift Ideas.

“Um, Tony?”

He ignores you as he opens the file up and scatters out the multiple designs he’s sketched out. You’re shocked at the multiple documents in the file but don’t have the chance to inspect them closely as Tony finds the one he was looking for.

“Here it is,” he states as he picks the design and throws it onto the screen next to his equipment. “What do you think, kid?”

“Oh, wow,” you whisper as you look at the design on display. “That’s beautiful.”

“Was tinkering for a while about making Pepper her own jewelry,” Tony responds beside you. “But she never wears what I get her.”

“I’m sure she would wear this,” you tell him. “Are you sure you want to use this design on me?”

Tony is quick to nod.

“You’ve been dealt a shitty hand with this power,” Tony answers honestly. “I just want to make things better for you in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you tell him, heartfelt at his generosity. “Really, thank you.”

Tony clears his throat from the rising emotion and looks away. He picks up your gauntlet and begins to disassemble them.

“Now go away,” he mutters. “Let me work in peace.”

“You told me it would only be five minutes.”

“Well I lied. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

You roll your eyes at him and Tony simply smirks.

“I’ll have them done soon, I promise, so why don’t you go ahead and find your partner in crime, Natasha. She’s got your costume in her room.”

You hesitate but you’ve already done your daily exercises to tire your powers out. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least that’s what you hoped for.

You wince at the sharp tug of your hair. You glare at Natasha through the mirror but she simply smirks in response. You had no choice when it came to getting ready for this impromptu Halloween party. Natasha dragged you into her room the moment you showed up at her door.

You didn’t mind her help for the party. In fact, you were glad to have it as the redhead went above and beyond to have everything ready for you. From the costume to the hair and makeup, Natasha had arranged it all. All you had to do was sit there and allow her to make her vision into a reality.

Though you would use this time to catch up with your close friend, your mind was far away at the moment.

Ever since your last lesson, Loki had avoided you like the plague. Any attempt of trying to apologize to him was somehow thwarted by Loki himself or some outside force. It didn’t help that Tony’s impromptu invitation and the jet that followed severed any chance of forcing him to see you.

You felt guilty.

You had crossed a line by revealing something he wasn’t ready to when all he had done was help you. You needed to apologize and you needed to do it soon.

“Ok, spill it.”

You look up at Natasha’s pointed stare and sigh.

“I can’t hide anything, can I?” you mutter tiredly. Nat tugs on your hair again and you hiss at the action. “I’m fine, Nat. Just trying to settle my mind.”

“Of what?”

You take a deep breath debating whether it was a good idea to tell her of your past week with Loki.

Nat despised him with every fiber of her being, but you… you didn’t.

“Loki’s been a great teacher considering I’m a ticking time bomb...”

“But?” Nat interrupts.

“But,” you repeat with a huff. “I keep ruining everything with this stupid power.”

“You?” Nat asks, confused. “You ruined everything? Not him?”

“Nat…”

“I’m sorry,” she sarcastically laughs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh. “If you just let me explain…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and turn away from the mirror to look at Natasha directly.

“I have invaded everyone’s privacy. I’ve learned things I have no right knowing and revealed things without permission. You already know how guilty I felt because of it,” you explain. “Yet, Loki wasn’t one of them. He’s immune to my power as I am to his but I recently crossed a line and uncovered something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“What was it?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

Natasha huffs in response but shrugs her curiosity off.

��So?” she asks. “What’s wrong then?”

“I feel really bad about it, Nat, and he’s avoiding me and I just want to apologize to him because I invaded his privacy but he won’t even let me get close to him to do it.”

“He doesn’t need an apology,” Nat scoffs. “He’s a grown man. He can lick up his wounds and move on.”

You’re starting to regret confiding in her about your situation but Loki has yet to teach you how to evade telling the truth without necessarily resorting to lying.

“I apologized to you and everyone after my first outburst,” you remind her. “You didn’t need me to but I’m sure it helped.”

Natasha lets out a breath but she knew you had a point.

“Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

She’s being honest with her opinion but you don’t feel the same way.

“I think differently,” you answer. “I think it’s been a long time since Loki’s been treated with some kindness.”

Natasha's eyes narrow down at you.

“Do you…” she hesitates. “What exactly is your relationship with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you acquaintances? Friends? Or is it more?”

You’re surprised at the question.

“I guess we’re friends?” you answer unsurely. “Mentor and student seems weird so yeah… friends.”

Natasha seems unconvinced but she doesn’t speak up on it. Instead, she motions you to face forward again so she could finish up with your hair.

“So do you think I’ll have time to slip out to apologize or am I going to have to wait until the party?”

Nat can’t avoid the snort from escaping her promptly earning her a confused look from you.

“Loki doesn’t go to the parties,” she tells you. “Not since I could remember.”

“Then why did he come with us in the jet?”

“Maybe because he has to monitor you and we have to monitor him?”

Nat’s right but you can only hope that Loki might prove her wrong.

“If he’s there… apologize to him,” Nat tells you hoping to ease the scowl that was settling on your face. “Just don’t expect him to forgive you. He’s not apologetic, far less forgiving.”

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12 @ddaeing

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

dating rich | ksj

⤑ series: sugar free

⤑ genre: fluff, rich!jin x artist!reader, college au.

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 3.4K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any, lmao.

⤑ A/N: today was a bit of a busy day so this is later than i wanted it to be! (im in the process of moving) buuut, it’s here and i really like it :( they’re kinda cute ngl . let me know what you think ! x

You hadn't been expecting the knock at your front door, was weary on your way down the steps to see who was standing on the other side. A large man, black hat pulled low on his head shuffled on his feet from behind the peephole. A box tucked underneath his armpit.

Watching him, you waited until he did the normal delivery man thing – dropping the box outside of the door and ditching second after knocking; not even giving you a chance to reach for the doorknob. He didn't, though. Seconds passed and the man just stood there, waiting for you to open up.

“Package for Miss Yn,” His deep voice had your body jumping as if he had sensed your presence on the other side of the door. With a quiet breath, you were reaching for to pull the door open, caught off guard by the dazzling smile of the tall man. “Are you Miss Yn?” He asked, that grin not wavering for a moment.

“Yeah, that's me. I didn't order anything, though.” You kept good track of your orders, knew when you would be expecting a visitor. Never could be too careful as a young girl living on her own.

“It's from Master Seokjin, a dress for tonight.” The man was holding the box out to you and you couldn't hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Did this guy really have his own delivery service where the workers referred to him as 'Master'? How ridiculous. “Great, thank you.” You forced the smile, watching as the man nodded before taking a few backward steps down the stairs.

Pushing the door closed, your attention was dropping to the box in your hands. It was neatly wrapped, probably done professionally with the way this man loved to throw his cash to the wind. A pretty gold bow holding the thing together and you weren't gentle with the way you tugged at it, watching as the careful ribboning came undone.

With the lid now off, you were faced with the expertly folded laid inside. A creamy white color, silky to the touch. Noting how short it was when you finally talked yourself into pulling it from the box. Singed at the waist with a matching belt tie, the dress was beautiful. And you didn't have to peak at the price tag (that he didn't bother to detach) to know that it was expensive.

You had been so enthralled with the fabric, you almost missed the items that laid at the bottom of the box. A pair of long dangled silver earrings beside a pair of matching silver stilettos. This man sure paid a great deal of attention to detail. There was a note placed just below the sole of the shoe.

Lifting it, your eyes scanned over the words written, not being able to fight the smile breaking onto your lips.

'don't you think this is much prettier than some tired cocktail dress? (no idea what you have in your closet) – nd no offense either. like i said, im sure you look great in everything. though, i heard chiffon does wonders for a pretty woman; wanted to test that theory.'

A compliment hidden somewhere within his obvious need to flaunt his wealth. It was kinda sweet and he wasn't wrong, this dress was much nicer than any old thing you would've thrown on at the last minute.

If you were going to be dating rich... might as well look the part, right?

Another knock sounded at your door exactly five hours later. 18:27. Three whole minutes before Jin had told you he'd be picking you up. Was he extremely punctual or just excited to see you? Not allowing yourself a moment extra to mull over the question, you were pulling the door open, new dress hugging your body, heels adding to your height, and earrings fastened in your ear.

Jin took his time taking in your appearance, a not so subtle jaw dropped expression as his eyes scanned over the way the fabric hugged your body. “You look amazing,” His words were riddled with disbelief, hushed as if he was speaking to himself.

Either way, that smile was pushing its way onto your lips. Not able to place just why you were so fond of receiving compliments from him. Maybe it was the fact it seemed as if he actually cared how you looked... you the fact that $3,421.78 made you feel desirable. No need to mull over that either.

“Thank you,”

He nodded, acknowledging your gratitude before offering up his arm for you to hold. “Minho is keeping the car warm for us, come on.” Only then were you noticing the shiny SUV parked directly in front of your house? The same man from earlier standing outside of it, ready to pull the door open when needed.

Your hand fit nicely against his bicep, heels clicked as you stepped forward pulling your front door closed behind you. Jin led you down the steps, advising you to watch your step as he brought you to the car.

Minho greeted you both with a soft smile, the back door of the car being pulled open and Jin was ushering you in like a true gentleman. The door was closing behind you and moments later, Minho was climbing into the front seat and shoving the car into gear.

The car ride to the restaurant was uncomfortably silent. You couldn't come up with something interesting to say and couldn't stop scolding yourself for actually wanting to say something to pique his interest. Jin was quiet, uncharacteristically so. Eyes staring out the slightly tinted window as his leg bounced quickly next to you.

Was he nervous? Doubtful.

You took to fumbling with the hem of your dress, counting down the moments until the car was stopping and you'd be inside of the restaurant. Actually hungry and excited to try the food there. $50 a plate (you had surfed the website for their cheapest dish, that was it), their food had to be good, right?

Relief is instantly washing over you as Minho is sliding the car to a stop, stepping out without a word to open the door for both you and Seokjin. An innocent hand lands on the small of your back as the two of you make your way toward the entrance and, surprisingly, you lack the urge to bat it away.

“Hey, Dae-Ho!” His bright personality is back, complete with his matching smile as the two of you approach the man standing at the door. Dae-Ho? Is turning, a grin spreading on his lips as he spots the two of you. Of course, they knew each other.

Jin is clapping hands with Dae-Ho, engaging in that generic guy handshake where they pat each other on the back while holding hands but not getting too close. “It's been forever, dude. You don't shadow your old man any more?” Dae-Ho is wondering and Jin is quick to shake his head.

“Not as much... think he was afraid if I learned too much I'd surpass him too fast,” Jin is joking and his friend is letting out a heartfelt laugh, eyes squinting as he shows off his perfectly white teeth. When the laughter dies down, the guy's attention is zeroing on you. He stares for a moment, brow arched as he watched you, waiting... for what?

If Jin notices the weird moment, he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even bother to drop his hand from your waist, just continues on smiling at his friend and speaking up without missing a beat. “Is Moonie around?”

Moonie? How many people did this guy know behind these thick glass doors? Dae-Ho is nodding his head, reaching for the walk-y that was clipped to his waist. He speaks into the receiver, voice much deeper and direct now. “Moon, there's someone here to see you.”

'Moon' is coming out just minutes later. A short silver-haired girl with small features and a pointed nose. Her smile is large when she spots Jin, not hesitating to pull him in for a tight hug when she's able to reach. “Wow, where have you been Jinnie?”

“You know around,” Jin shrugs. “Heard you bought your father out, took his name off all the papers of this place...” The girl is nodding excitedly at Jin's words, leading the two of you past the front doors as they continue to catch up.

So he was close to the owner? Seemed like old friends from the way they addressed each other and smiled so fondly. With a snorted laugh, she was sitting the two of you down in a quiet corner of the place. “I haven't seen you in so long, man. This one's on the house, whatever you want.” She's handing a menu over to you, that pretty smile taking over her features again.

“Wow, I'm so rude. Is this your girlfriend? What's your name?” You tried not to flinch at the label, pushing a polite smile onto your lips as you got ready to answer. “I'm not-” You start, quickly being interrupted by Jin.

“This is Yn. We go to school together,” Moon takes a moment to look between the two of you, obviously picking up on the tension but not saying much about it. “That's cool, then. Let me go grab a server for you two,” She's turning to leave before either of you could weigh in.

“Why didn't you let me correct her?” Jin is looking at you with a furrowed brow, shoulders shrugging before he's reaching for the glass of water placed on the table and taking a long sip. “Did it really matter?” Did it? Maybe it didn't... it wasn't like you were ever going to see that girl again. And the two of you weren't exactly friends.

What was he supposed to introduce you as? The girl that he was kinda interested in, but not really because he was probably this way with any girl he found remotely attractive. Yeah, that was definitely a mouthful.

No, wait. It did. Girlfriend was a big deal. And you had just barely agreed to go on this date with him. Two people can go on a date without being accused of actually dating. That's not weird to say. He was courting you and that was the bottom line, nothing had been promised.

Through your mess of thoughts, a small fact was hitting you. He knew the owner of this place and acted as if the two of you would have trouble getting in based on what you wore. So why had he insisted on buying you a new dress if he knew that wouldn't be a factor?

Sat across from you in a nice but regular button shirt tucked into a pair of simple black jeans. Everyone else around you two was dolled up, so there most definitely was a dress code, yet he didn't have to follow it because his friend was the owner. So why a new (expensive) dress for you?

Something wasn't adding up.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, having dinner with Jin wasn't as bad as you had assumed it would be. He was kind, funny, and all-around an entertaining person to be around. It was as if he genuinely enjoyed seeing you laugh, hearing the sound of it, and was ready to spew out joke after joke just to hear the sound.

He had ordered for the both of you, warning you quietly that not many things on the menu were all that appetizing. Well, he thought he was being quiet, he did however earn an eye roll from his friend Moon who hadn't been too far from the table.

The awkward laugh that left his lips, oddly, warmed your heart pushing a smile onto your face and breaking the layer of ice you had been keen on keeping intact. Jin listened intently to the answer to each question that he asked, seeming honestly interested in what you had to tell him. Wanting to actually know more about you and your personality rather than just asking the questions to fill the silence.

You told him whatever came to mind, not being able to hold back after realizing that he was interested in what you had to say. Told him about your dreams as an artist, your love for literature, and film work. Even told him the embarrassing story of the time you thought you could be a poet and actually entered a poetry slam.

He had a good laugh hearing your story end in stumbling off stage in fear, tripping over the microphone on the way, and busting your ass in front of the entire audience. You couldn't silence his laughter after that and quickly, you were urging him to make up for it with an embarrassing story of his own.

Which he shared without a second thought, animatedly telling you about his friends and the times they got themselves into a mess, the sound of his laughter interrupting his words more often than not. As the seconds of the night ticked by, you found yourself feeling more and more comfortable around this man.

Almost had you second-guessing the snap judgment you had made prior to this. How quickly you decided that you weren't interested in getting to know him when he was kind of great when it came down to it.

A gracious tip was left on the table, despite the meal not needing to be paid for. With a soft smile, Jin's reaching to set his hand on the small of your back once more; leading you out of the restaurant with the gentlest guidance.

Moon is stood at the front door, flicking through the menu as the two of you pass her. She looks up immediately, waving with that brightest of smiles. “Come back soon! You need to treat your pretty girlfriend as often as possible,” She's calling out. It's not even hard for you to push down the urge to correct her, only pushing a smile onto your face and waving back.

Jin nods grins at his friends before the two of you are exiting the building. Minho is pulling up just as the two of you are stepping out. Dae-Ho nowhere insight when you look for him, but you're not given the chance to wander with the way Jin's ushering you into the backseat of the car.

“So,” He's prompting after a few moments driving in silence had passed. Your attention had been out the window, watching the trees as they whipped by and trying to wrap your mind around how pleasant this evening had been. Wondering just how your guard had managed to slip, Jin letting himself in without a second thought.

You turn to face him, a smile instantly lifting the corners of your mouth at the sight of him. Had he always been this unbelievably handsome? “You had a good time tonight, huh?” He's asking with that cocky smile of his and out of habit, you're rolling your eyes.

“It's alright,” You shrug, turning your attention from him to hide the coloring in your cheeks. If you hadn't looked away, you would've seen the cute way Jin rolled his eyes at you, his body sinking into the comfort of the leather seats as his head turned to get a better look at your profile. “Just alright? That grin hasn't left your face since we sat down. Not that I'm complaining,”

You're quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. Not like he even needed it, the evidence was right in front of his face. He doesn't push it, his attention going to the window at his side of the car.

“I had a really good time tonight,” It sounds more like a silent confession than a declaration meant for you. As if he couldn't believe it himself. You couldn't either, but you don't say anything. So positive that this was just tonight. No matter how much fun he was, how nice, how attractive... he was still the same Kim Seokjin. Still, the same womanizer name riddled with rumors.

Who knows if this wasn't just a calculated plan he used each time he took some girl on a date? Yeah, you weren't falling for it. Couldn't believe you almost let yourself believe it was any different.

You're quiet the rest of the ride, mind reeling. So badly, you wanted this night to be more than just... some night to him. It had been a good time and it kinda sucked that you knew this would be it.

Minho is pulling up in front of your house and before he can move, Jin is opening up the back door. He turns to offer a hand to you, much like a true gentleman would. You're accepting it, allowing him to pull you out of the vehicle.

“Have a good night, Minho!” You're calling over the shoulder, the man in the driver's seat jumping slightly at the mention of his name but quickly replying with a quick goodbye and a large smile.

His hands slip into the front pockets of his jeans as he leads you up the walkway to your front door. An awkward silence fell over the two of you and you had no idea what you were supposed to say in a moment like this. Thank you? See you around? The date was great, too bad we can't do it again? All horrible conversation starters that you had no idea how to steer.

Silence was the best option.

Jin stops once you're at your front door, hands shoved in his pockets while he toes with a loose pebble. Head ducked as if the stone of your porch is the most fascinating thing, but you can still see the tint in his cheeks. He was blushing? But why?

Was he fixing to ask if he could come up? Complete the night like you were sure he and his friends prided with. Minho still hasn't moved from his spot, does that mean he was planning to just come up for a quicky and meet Minho back downstairs?

He's lifting his head and you prepare yourself for the question, ready to reject the idea of a quick fuck that most likely followed his dates. Did he think just because you had a good time you'd be willing to give yourself up to him? Not happening.

“Did I manage to change your opinion on me?” His voice is hushed, almost as if he's afraid of the answer. Did he really care that much what you thought of him? Why you? Why did your opinion matter so much to him?

Slowly, the pieces were starting to fall into place. The expensive dress, the way he flaunted his connections within in the restaurant you picked, how interested in you he seemed to be throughout the whole night... not to mention the shy way his fingers would brush yours as if he wanted to hold your hand the whole car ride home.

Was he actually interested in you? The thought had a smile pushing on your lips and you hated the easy effect the idea of Jin having a crush on you gave away. Before you can talk yourself out of it, think it all the way through – you're stepping forward, hands braced on his biceps as you lean on your toes.

His lips are warm against yours, very soft. It takes Jin a moment to realize what's happening, that your lips are pressed firmly against his but once his mind is settling, he's slipping into it. An arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close while he slowly moves his mouth over yours.

You don't let the kiss become too deep, your head already spinning. You pull away just as he steps forward, looking up just in time to see the dopey smile on his face. You can still taste his lips on yours and figured that will be enough to hold you over for the night.

“I wouldn’t mind doing this again,” You watch the way his eyes light up at your confession, his cheeks tinting pink. “That's good, then!” He's taking backward steps off your porch, eyes never leaving you.

“I should call you then?” He wonders and you nod, turning to unlock your front door. “Yeah, call me.” He offers a quick wave before he's turning and you watch him walk all the way to the car, slipping into the front seat next to Minho.

Faintly, you can feel the pressure of his lips. His strong arm wrapped around your waist. How nervous he looked before asking if you had thought differently of him. Had you? You couldn't know for sure. But maybe you were wrong about him.

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

↲ masterlist ↳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lilacdreams-00 @sw33tnight @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okblve @jinhitwhore @tae165 @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansbun @betysotelo18 @cherriigguk @koostime @kooinluv @butterflylion @kookiesjoonies @uxwi @honeyoongles @imajiningseokjin @amoreguk @beeeb05 @tommasauras @bluefaeriefury @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @soulstaes @thesunisup-theskyisblue @jinsearth @aizuwusho @moonb0yy @tan-dulset @8sjaf @mini-coop25 @marifujioka @sunskook @elliemeetsevil @ratking101 @leovaldezisfire

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Contending the Flame IV

Author’s Note: Hope everyone had a safe and fun Halloween! Not much else to say here as we start to delve deeper into Ivar and the Nuns new relationship and the two different worlds they come from. Thanks as always for being so awesome!

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 2217

Warnings: Language, Master/Servant dynamic

His brothers had kept a close eye on Ivar since acquiring his new thrall. He still played at the leader of their army, but he had refrained from shutting them out of power entirely. Any chance they had at lending a commanding voice they took. Hvitserk's strategy of giving their little brother a distraction was paying off.

The changes in Ivar's behavior were minuscule. Only Ubbe and Hvitserk took notice. It was the same when they were children when someone would give a new gift to Ivar. It would be a stretch to say he was happy, but his vengeance had quelled. For the moment it was enough, and they could focus on securing lands for their people while Ivar was preoccupied.

It was strange for a thrall not to be seen waiting over their master's every whim, but it seemed Ivar wouldn't permit you to leave his quarters. The other slaves they had acquired tended to him during meals, and when he walked the streets with his guards, you were always absent. Ubbe walked alongside Hvitserk contemplating this.

"What do you think he has her do for him?" Ubbe wondered aloud.

Hvitserk's brows puckered in thought. "Don't know. I can't imagine they have much to talk about, and I know the one thing they aren't doing."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, think about it," Hvitserk jested with a smirk. "I suppose that must make him a good fit for her. She'll remain a virgin after all."

Ubbe latched onto Hvitserk's arm, pulling him to a stop as he gave him a harsh look. "Those are dangerous words, brother. Remember Sigurd. I don't want to see another brother dead because of Ivar's fragile grasp of his anger. He has poor sensibilities when it comes to that matter. It's unfair, but it's not his fault."

Hvitserk shook off Ubbe's grasp and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "Right, that was stupid. I do pity him, though I don't think he'd want it. Who knows how he'll be when we start having families of our own."

Ubbe grunted. "He'll probably resent us, more than he does already. I think I understand why he keeps her away from everyone. Besides our mother, no one has ever taken to Ivar's company outside of obligation or familial bond. He's lonely."

"And it's not as if she can refuse," said Hvitserk. "But she's a Christian. That's got to account for some strife between them."

They continued on their way towards the center of the city. Food was beginning to run scarce, and it seemed the Saxons were holding steadfast on starving them out. While Ivar was willing to take their army to its limits to play Aethelwulf's game, Ubbe and Hvitserk were devising their own plan to negotiate land. They just needed a little more time. Many things rested in the hands of the nun, as unaware as you were.

"I just hope he hasn't harmed her," Ubbe said while they passed through the market.

Hvitserk looked grim, a heaviness settling on him that had replaced his usual cheer. "Ivar did always break toys. We have to hope that Christian isn't as weak as she looks."

ooOOoo

You were growing accustomed to your new station. As a woman, it was your lot in life to suffer, and you took your new situation as a test from God. The heathen, Ivar, he had made no bid to harm you. That wasn't to say he was good company to keep. He had taken to trying to instruct you in a handful of words and phrases of his language. Some of the words were difficult to form with your accent, and when you mispronounced things, he would grow irritated and throw things at you. Uttering dark curses in his tongue, you were certain he had insulted you as well, but it was better than a flogging.

At night you continued to pray, your back to your master, and the words spoken only in your head. You were sure they reached God, even without a rosary in your grasp or the piety to kneel. In your heart, you struggled to keep hope alive. If this test was to be your final judgment from God, its purpose remained clouded to you.

It was late when Ivar returned, and you had remained awake for his arrival. You now slept when he did, short and inconsistent hours of the night, only to be woken before the dawn. He did not rest well. Be it from his duties or pain you could not say, but he never faltered from exhaustion. This pattern must have been his usual routine, life at war.

Ivar's eyes sought you out the moment he came through the door, and you returned the stare. He had only just started walking in his new contraptions, a set of iron braces that he had created from pride. His determination to walk was admirable. You had never witnessed such a fighting spirit before, and you were certain it was a blessing from God.

"Something you wish to say?" Ivar interrupted your thought, a scowl on his face from your lingering gaze on his legs.

"It is a good thing," You said while rising from your corner of the floor. "I believe God has blessed you."

Ivar snorted, blue eyes rolling at your absurdity to insinuate such a thing. He took a slow seat on his pallet of furs and started to remove the braces. "Really, and why would that be?"

"You are not the first cripple I have met, but you are the most assiduous."

You could see him test out the word for himself, a lack of understanding passing over his face. "I'm not sure what that means, but I like how it sounds."

"You have an unrelenting heart. Strong-willed and resolute in your goals. I find you impressive."

He halted what he was doing, and took a long, considering look at you. "I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It is the way if I am to be seen as a true Viking to my people."

"So there are others like you?" You asked as you approached him with careful steps.

"There are not many cripples among my people, no. A child born with a deformity such as mine is left to die. I would have been if not for my mother. She was softhearted, and couldn't bear my loss."

You didn't want to have any strong sort of feelings towards your captor, but to learn that he had been left to die as a helpless babe engulfed you in sorrow. "It isn't wrong for a mother to feel pity for her child," You murmured, showing how distraught you were by such a story. "You don't sound grateful for her mercy."

Ivar's face hardened at your sentiment. "Mercy is for Christians. I would have done the same as my father. I loved my mother, but there are days I resent her for her choice. Her gifts failed to foretell the agony I would endure at the hands of compassion."

"What gifts?"

"She was a Vülva, a woman seeress of our people who has visions of the future."

You frowned at such a concept. "That sounds like sorcery to me."

"I forgot your people fear magic and witchcraft," Ivar said in a teasing tone. "My mother would have hated you. She was too steeped in the beliefs of our own people to have care about your sensitive notions of God. My father would have liked you though."

You blushed at the idea of such a great man holding you in favor. Though you didn't hail from Wessex you had heard the stories of the Viking King who fought for Mercia and befriended King Ecbert. "King Ragnar? Why do you think that?"

"He was often amused and curious about your God. Maybe you would have reminded him of Æthelstan, his Christian monk." Ivar resumed the task of taking off his braces, wincing in pain whenever a particular part pinched or pulled at his legs. "Here, come help me with this."

Startled by such a request, you moved with haste and uncertainty. Ivar showed you which parts to unclasp, and you would mimic his actions with a gentler touch, stopping entirely when he would let out any sound of discomfort. You were certainly slower at the task than if he completed it himself, but he seemed to enjoy watching you work over him, and you were grateful for the distraction.

"What about your family? Where are your mother and father?" Ivar asked while leaning back on the strength of his arms.

"They're both dead," You said, pausing only a moment to collect yourself before continuing on his braces. "I was born in Rendlesham, in East Angles. My mother was a whore, and I never knew who my father was as a result of that. When she died, I was orphaned to the streets until the church took me in. Being of such low birth standing, I turned to the church as my ray of hope."

You could feel Ivar frowning at you, but you did not waver. "Did you not want to be something more than a nun?"

You breathed a laugh. "Such as what? Saxon women are not allowed to be warriors."

"Yes, but isn't there a way you could have improved your situation?"

"No," You said bluntly. "Blood is everything. Those who are of Royal standing will always be in power, and through marriage, their line continues. The best I could have hoped for was a marriage to a farmer, and he would have to have been a poor one. I would have raised his children, and likely died young from childbirth."

"I see now why you're a nun," said Ivar. When you chanced a look up at him, he appeared troubled by your story. "Those Saxons in power are greedy. They keep all for themselves and give nothing back. What chance is there of an honorable death for those forced to live a life of poverty?"

"If you die without sin, you go to Heaven. We have no need for honor."

"A life without sin," Ivar hummed. "As if any man is capable of such purity."

"A Priest is," You argued back. "It takes a nobleman to obtain such a pious position in the church."

"Is it noble for these men to keep silver and gold in their churches while children run through the streets, no better than dogs?" Ivar had sat forward, his eyes emboldened with the wrath of a demon. "I have seen your noblemen of the cloth, and they died screaming the same as any sinning heathen of mine."

You lost your balance, falling flat on your bottom as you gazed up at Ivar in terror. "What did you do to them?"

"The things I've done to your priests," Ivar paused, a calm washing over him. "It would make Loki grin."

The suffering of your people seemed to fall down on you like a star collapsing from the night sky. When he spoke, you could almost forget that Ivar was your enemy, but he had now made it clearer than ever where the line in the sand was drawn. You were just a slave, a Christian slave, and how soon would it be before he tired of you? You did not wish the same fate to befall you as it had for the priests, whatever it had been.

"I have not dismissed you," Ivar tutted when you began to walk away to your corner, unaware yourself that you had begun to do so. You craved distance from him, even if it was only a few feet away.

At first, he tried to manage his composure, calling you back with his voice deliberately even. When it became clear that no amount of coaxing on his part would work, he started yelling in his language. That word came up again, 'Ólaug'. It had been peppered into a number of your one-sided conversations. If he had tried to brand you with a new name, you would refuse. He would not take who you were.

Your fight ended with him throwing one of his crutches at you. It landed just before you, and you were able to contain your flinch. Ivar scoffed at your non-reaction and threw himself back onto the furs. He had finished disrobing and gave you the courtesy of his back, which appeared to be covered in a new etched design each time you saw him. Matched against your own untainted skin, it was a reminder of how different the worlds you came from were.

When you were sure Ivar had fallen asleep, you moved to get under your own thin pile of wool blankets. They were scratchy and held none of the warmth of the furs, but it was not the worst sleeping conditions you had ever weathered. That night you prayed for the lost Priests, and for God to take away your suffering. You didn't see a way out of your situation, but if God acted through you, you were certain to find your answer. Content to keep faith in your heart, Sister Mary Catharine slept, ignorant to the matter that Ivar was awake and watching you.

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aerialcedrick · 3 years

Photo

PINTEREST | MUSINGS | INTRO | TASKS

[ DA’VINCHI, HE/HIM, CIS MAN ] — [ CEDRICK CHANDLER ] is a grandchild of [ HERMES & EROS ] with the power of [ ENHANCED SPEED & WING MANIFESTATION ] . they were born in [ 1998 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2016 ] . with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ] the [ HERO ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ LIFTING WEIGHTS OR TEACHING YOUNGER NEMEAN LION KIDS SPORTS ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ SUN ] building .

GENERAL

Full Name: Cedrick Chandler Nickname(s): Ricki Age: 23 Date of Birth: December 13, 1998 Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland

FAMILY

Parents: Jenelle Chandler (mother) & Leroy Chandler Sr. (father, non-biological), Hermes (grandparent) Eros (grandparent) Sibling(s): Leroy “Roy/Junior” Chandler Jr. 16, Zeke “Zee” Chandler 9 (younger brothers, non-demigods) Pet(s): Female Doberman Pinscher named Kahlúa Family’s Financial Status: Middle Class

BIOGRAPHY

Ricki’s parents had him young. Jenelle, a child of Hermes, had chosen to live a life separate from her godly relatives. She had the power of omnilingualism and was studying foreign policy in undergrad, keeping the secrets of her skills to herself. College is the time for experimenting, and a threesome with a child of Eros left Jenelle and Leroy with a baby they didn’t know what to do with. Jenelle took a leave of absence from school to carry but never returned and Leroy finished his degree. The couple tried to look at Ricki’s conception as an act of love, something they both took part in, and decided against a paternity test in favor of raising him as their own.

Ricki was 6 by the time Junior was born and wasn’t showing any signs of being a demigod. His speed felt like a gift and they put him in sports young, having played little league, soccer, and eventually running track in high school. Jenelle had a feeling he’d inherited his speed from her lineage, but never put that pressure on Ricki. Ricki was always a popular, likable guy and is incredibly close to his father. He loves kids and would do anything for his little brothers. He was a gifted athlete and though the Chandlers knew his skills were likely genetic, from Hermes, they chose to keep their kids out of the know.

Junior year of high school was when his wings were discovered. An uncontrollable itching in his back made him claw and scrape at his skin, unaware what the issue was. A few x-rays showed wings growing under his skin. That’s when his parents looked at each other and realized the truth: Ricki was not Leroy’s son.

It took Ricki a long time to process this but he tried not to be distant, instead spending more time at the gym and hanging out with friends as a distraction. He started cutting class and lingering at the mall with the wrong crowd, even started stealing and getting into trouble. The day his parents told him they were sending him to NL he almost caused a riot. He’d worked hard, and having to admit that work wasn’t his own felt stolen. If it was up to him, he’d ignore the stretch in his back as long as he could.

When he got to NL he finally began embracing his powers out of a need to make an impression and show off. He liked being fast and knew with the right training from the right people he could be faster, better. Something about becoming a hero made him feel strong and important and special and he liked that. He got closer to Hermes, but still struggled to get close to Eros, and didn’t make any immediate efforts to work with his wings.

The growing pains got so bad that half way into coming to Nemean Lion Ricki started taking pain killers to help with the pain, but they made him distant and spacey. He didn’t take them long enough to form any strong reliance, and is going into this year trying to embrace his wings and learn to control them. He hopes to ask to shadow Levi, finally ready to take charge of his power. He wants to be proud, to learn how to soar. Also, he kinda can’t graduate from the hero track until he does.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Da’Vinchi Height: 6 ft 3 in Style/Aesthetic: Athletic, track jackets, varsity jacket, jeans, basketball shorts, cleans up nice and always has his chain on. Has his ears pieced and one either has a silver hoop, little diamond, or hanging cross. Always has a fresh fade and always clean shaven. Extras: Ricki is a HUGE sneaker head, the type to stand in line early when a special pair drops, and has a section in his room where some never worn sneakers are on display. He buys really expensive running shoes and has a few custom pairs he wears on special occasions. He’s serious about his kicks. Also he gets manicures with a clear coat so his nails are always on point/clean and he’s best friends with his manicure lady.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: charming, outgoing, approachable, compassionate, understanding, hardworking, optimistic, fair-minded, honest, spontaneous Negative Traits: inconsistent, reckless, overly confident, occasional bursts of anger, forgetful Hobbies: Collecting sneakers, playing sports, he’s a bit of a show off, going to the gym, hanging out/needs to be around people Habits: forgetful/will sometimes agree to double plans, has a hard time not moving and has a LOT of energy so if he’s still too long you’ll catch him bouncing his leg or pacing. Has issues with focusing for too long and has a short attention span. Over exerts himself.

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Temperament: Sanguine. Sanguines tend to be more extroverted and enjoy being part of a crowd; they find that being social, outgoing, and charismatic is easy to accomplish. Individuals with this personality have a hard time doing nothing and engage in more risk seeking behavior. Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Hometown friends/family friends

Best friends/Good friends met at NL. Ricki is really social and definitely rolls with a few crews

A ride-or-die. I imagine Ricki has a lot of friends and is friends with almost everyone because he’ll go up and talk to anyone but he needs at least one day 1. I imagine Ricki has a close main crew that has a group chat and acts up together and would love to get a few chars together (4 or 5) to make that friend group dynamic a thing. Bonus: giant text threads hehe

Someone he’s super protective over, he would pull up in a second.

Additionally, someone who is super protective of him.

Others on the hero track he can train with.

A few enemies. I imagine some people think he’s annoying or a bit of a show off, he’s that kid that’s good at most things. Past friends who are current frenemies! Some friendly or unfriendly competition. Ricki doesn’t always feel the need to prove himself but unfortunately he never backs down from a challenge because he’s not a little bitch so he WILL agree to stupid dangerous shit.

People that were close to him when he was taking a lot of painkillers and would recognize a similar shift in his behavior.

Romances. Past flings or partners, someone who has a crush on him, someone he has a crush on, give me all of it! An almost-something-now-nothing. A friend who wants to use him to make someone else jealous but he’s in on it. Your char is his friend and he doesn’t like their partner/he’s your partners friend but your char doesn’t like him! Past lovers to friends, past lovers to enemies (bad breakup, now it’s all attitude). FWB. ALL OF IT. Ricki isn’t necessarily a player but he’s not that committal. He’s the type that comes off as boyfriend material but then forgets to text back and skips dates to train and then wanna act confused when you’re mad. Then he go and buy you ice cream and flash you his smile and you let him inside anyway.

Roommates/apartment mates in the sun building!

Anything and everything!! Ricki is super versatile.

#ive never hated myself more than in this moment skmdng #nlintro #intro #ricki #nicer to read on his blog bc the headers are orange <3 #addiction //#not exactly but just in case <3 #pinned!

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twstarchives · 4 years

Text

Ruggie Bucchi・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Gala Couture Event Card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “The secret to feeling good is eating! As long as you eat, everything’ll be OK!”

Groovy “My studies, huh...? This is what’s gonna put food on my table, so I’m taking them seriously.”

Home Setting “They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, you know?”

Home Transitions “I’m busy cleaning up Leona’s room right now. What? You wanna help? Man, thanks a bunch!”

“Mages who grew up in the slums like me are pretty rare.”

“Are you sure you should be spacing out like that? Time is money, you know.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Do you need somethin’ from me? I’ll listen if you say you’ll treat me to something.”

Home Taps “My uniform? It’s a hand-me-down from Leona. It’s a little big, but I can still wear it so it’s fine.”

“I wouldn’t mind looking after Grim if you ever need me to. How does 1000 madols an hour sound?”

“You’re hungry? If you get some ingredients together, I can whip something up for you.”

“I gotta think about what I’m going to do after I graduate and start working towards that. ‘Cause life is really long.”

“Hm, what’s up? Does Leona want something——Oh, he doesn’t? You scared me for a sec...”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I’m really good at sports. At least, better than you.”

Groovy “Alright! I think I should show my cool side to the lower grades every once in a while~”

Home Setting “Getting to run around so nimbly really is the best.”

Home Transitions “Move it, move it! We’re in the middle of cleaning out the whole dorm! ‘Cause Leona never cleans this place up himself...”

“I’m considered pretty small in my dorm. But that just means I’ve got a lot of advantages in magift.”

“I’m really confident in my endurance. If I got my eyes on my prey, it’s not gonna escape me!”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Magift has a completely different feel when you see it live. Wanna come watch our practice sometime?”

Home Taps “Ahh, I’m hungry. I’m feeling like a whole pile of sugary donuts to dip in some milk.”

“I really respect Jack for how much physical strength he’s got. But he still has a selfish playing style.”

“Building up your strength is really important to survive a brutal environment.”

“Coach Vargas got angry today? Just compliment him on his muscles and that’ll put him right back in a good mood.”

“Now’s your last chance to enjoy yourself. Let’s hope you don’t lose all hope in everything when Coach Vargas goes and pushes you to your limit though. Shishishi!”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “I don’t care that much about looking professional, but I kinda like these snazzy lab coats.”

Groovy “You’re really clumsy. Here, hand that to me.”

Home Setting “Dirt would really stand out on this kind of white.”

Home Transitions “You should probably stay away from the Botanical Garden. If you irritate Leona during his naptime... Oo, it gives me chills.”

“Ahh, you’re using up so much good lab materials! Man, what a waste...”

“I love alchemy. But I tend to make lots of mistakes if I get too greedy. Hehe.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Aah? I wouldn’t be able to help you with that work even if you asked me.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “You can still eat weeds if you cook them right. Huh, you actually wanna try ‘em? ...You’ve got weird taste.”

Home Taps “Jack grows a lot of cacti in his room. Maybe they could be emergency rations.”

“I can only throw together a meal with what I’ve got to work with, but I guess it’s fine as long as Leona eats it.”

“A lot of the plants they grow in the Botanical Garden could sell for really high prices. ...I don’t mean anything by that; I’m just sayin’. Shishishi!”

“I don’t really get how Riddle just dumps in spoonfuls thinking it’s ‘the right amount’ he needs.”

“Don’t touch me when your hands reek of chemicals! You’re gonna get the smell on me!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Want me to tell you what was covered on my tests last year? I’d even give you a special friend discount.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “These robes are so fancy. They really do have the feel of this school.”

Groovy “Even I look the part when I’m wearing these, don’t I?”

Home Setting “So? These actually look pretty nice on me, huh?”

Home Transitions “You’re a student at this academy but you don’t even know the history behind it? Gathering intel should always be a priority.”

“Want a keepsake photo of you in your ceremony robes? Just 1000 madols a pic! It’s a great deal!”

“Hah, I’m tired... I can’t help feeling stiff in clothes I’m not used to. How are you doin’ in them?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “This high-quality fabric with gold embroidering, plus these decorations... How much would they all sell for?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “The ceremony today is gonna be in the Mirror Chamber. Shishishi! You look nervous. It’s cute; it’s fitting for a first-year.”

Home Taps “I’m not rich, but I’ll always like this better than being a spoiled brat who doesn’t have a problem in the world.”

“The chance of Leona coming to a ceremony is... about 50/50. But he’ll still come to the entrance and graduation ones.”

“The Headmaster takes really good care of the apple trees that grow on campus. Those apples all look so good.”

“Mages were pretty rare where I grew up. I bet they’d all wanna see what I look like now.”

“You don’t need to rush; we’ve got plenty of time before the ceremony. You’re so impatient.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Your makeup’s all smudged. Alright, guess I’ll fix it for you. ...It’s fine, I’ve done this as a job before.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “Who stepped into my territory?”

“Oh, wow, what a cute little kitten. Did you come here to be our prey? Shishishi!”

Groovy “I could tell you how to survive at this school if you want.”

Home Setting “I feel like somethin’ fun’s gonna happen today.”

Home Transitions “The deserted feel of the Ramshackle Dorm is kinda nice, but... Savanaclaw is still my favorite.”

“The dorm uniforms really are so easy to move in. They’re not too fancy either; it’s perfect for me.”

“We’re about to have a dorm meeting right now. What, you wanna come check it out? I mean, Leona’s kind of... It depends on how you ask him.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m heading to the cafeteria with Leona. Wanna come too? Having more people to run errands saves me some.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Sure, I came to this school without a madol in my pocket... but you can always find a way to handle anything as long as you’re alive!”

Home Taps “The strong and the smart are the ones who rise to power in Savanaclaw. I like how it’s an obvious system.”

“This necklace is supposed to represent different parts of nature. Red for the sun, blue for the sky, green for the land... It reminds me of my hometown.”

“It’s important to not let your guard down in the savannah. If you’re not careful... bam! You get killed.”

“Leona works me hard, but I’m always paid the appropriate amount. It’s a give-and-take.”

“You’re really just like a puppy with how playful you are.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “There’s still so much you could do even if you can’t use magic. Want me to give you a lecture on them?”

Duo Magic Ruggie: “Use your head, Jack!” Jack: “Right! Ruggie!”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Ruggie’s birthday event (Apr 16 - Apr 22, 2021).

Login on Birthday “Today’s my long-awaited birthday! Course that means you’ve got a present ready for me, right? ...Wait, huh? You actually do? ...Hmm, you were so straightforward, it kinda threw me off... Well, thanks! Hehe.”

Unlock Card “I’m the king today! Is the celebration all ready to go?”

“There’s really no one worth giving presents to as much as me. I’ll be happy with anything I get!”

Groovy “Thanks for celebrating! Can I expect another fancy party next year?”

Home Setting “I’m going to make it loud and clear I’m the star today.”

Home Transitions “Jack was so annoying telling me ‘The birthday boy needs to just kick back and relax!’ It was hard shaking him off.”

“Cake tastes so good and sweet~ But as long as it keeps me filled, I don’t really have anything else to say about it.”

“I can’t believe Silver was so quick to buy me that premium pudding when I asked him for it... I’ll go crying to him next time I’m short on food money.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The birthday parties at this school are the best! I mean, there’s so much fancy food! I’m going to stuff myself like mad.”

Home Taps “The neighborhood kids always come to visit on my birthday. ...No, not to celebrate; they’re after the food.”

“Jade gave me a high-quality towel that’s so soft to touch... I might change my mind about being okay using it.”

“Lucius showed me somewhere where lots of dandelions grow. He’s a thoughtful cat!”

“This donut pin looks so yummy. But I wish they would’ve gotten some actual ones ready.”

“Hey, I know you just pulled my tail! You’re wrong if you think I’m going to allow that just ‘cause it’s my birthday.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Some people don’t like getting older, but I’m happy about it. Don’t take your birthdays for granted.”

Duo Magic Ruggie: “Sebek, let's hear ya shout it out!” Sebek: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUGGIE!!!”

Tutorial “Delays never bring you anything good. Let’s go.”

Lv Up “Shishishi! This is good.”

“You’re kinda weird, trying to take care of me.”

“I think I’ve gotten stronger!”

Max Lv Up “I feel like I could do anything now. Trying hard every once in a while actually might not be that bad. Hehe.”

Episode Lv Up “You really are such a softie. You might get scammed someday, you know? Well, come talk to me if that happens and I might help you out.”

Magic Lv Up “I always thought my magic would stay sucky my whole life, but... it’s kinda turned out.”

Limit Break “I think my progress is still far from over. Guess I gotta stay around you a little while longer.”

Groovy “See? The skilled ones always survive in this world. You’ve got nothing to lose being around me.”

Select Lesson “There aren’t classes on haggling or anything? This place really is a prestigious mage-training school.”

“You don’t have to get so stressed about it. You take things so seriously.”

“Which one are you gonna do? If it were me I’d pick one that’d be useful for survival.”

Lesson Start “Alright, studytime, studytime!”

Lesson End “Hah... I gotta stay caught up.”

Battle Start “This is my territory!”

Battle End “Looks like I got myself some mouth-watering prey.”

Other

Profile Quote “This world is a survival of the fittest. If you don’t eat when you can, you’re not gonna survive.”

January 2020 Trailer “Even a hyena can become king at this school.”

Countdown Poster “You’ve got some nerve stepping into our territory. Shishishi!”

Login Bonus Greeting “Oh, you made some money! Shishishi! Getting this just by coming to school everyday really is the best, huh? Make sure you don’t forget to come tomorrow either.”

Player Birthday Wish “You’re eating good food, getting all these presents, and everyone’s being so nice to you today. So you don’t really need me to send you birthday wishes on top of that, right? Kidding. Shishishi! I swear! Happy birthday!”

#twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #voice lines

246 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

The Nightmare in Lawrence

Winchester Sister! Reader

Words: 3874

Summary: Having not heard from their sister in a few weeks, Sam and Dean set out to find her. They discover that she is being terrorized by a dream demon in their hometown on Halloween.

Notes: Welcome to the final imagine in the Winchester October Takeover! I’ve loved writing all of these Sam and Dean imagines and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading them! For this, I did name it after the movie, but I’m doing my own version of dream demon. Also, this one takes place somewhere in season one. Happy Halloween!! Much love- Erin

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

Dean was worried. Sam was too, but he was still upset, so he pretended not to care. Dean was really worried. This wasn’t just skipping town and finding a case to work on her own, Y/N was gone. She wasn’t calling or texting or writing any damn letters. Just like dad.

“She probably just doesn’t want to talk to us.” Sam noted bitterly. Dean gave his younger brother a look.

“Arguement or not, she would call.” The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes. “I know you’ve been gone, Sam, but that hasn’t changed.”

“Are you going to get on my case too?” Sam challenged. Dean clenched his jaw.

“I’m just saying that we always let each other know where we are. That’s how it’s always been.” He paced back and forth around the hotel room, checking his phone again. Still nothing.

“I thought she could handle herself.” Sam muttered to himself. Dean whirled around, grabbing his brother by the collar.

“Alright, knock it off Sam.” He barked. “She’s your sister damnit. Act like it.”

“She sure didn’t last time we saw her!” Sam snapped back. Before Dean could respond, his phone finally rang. Giving Sam a deadly glare, he answered.

“Y/N? Where the hell have you been? What are you-”

“Dean… something is wrong… I’m home, but I’m not.” Your voice cut in and out, making it hard to understand your words. “You… Sam… Dean, I’m scared… this isn’t right… please… I need…” In the background, Dean could just make out the sound of a melody.

“Mr. Sandman… bring me a dream…”The call cut out.

“Y/N!” The panicked sound in his brother’s voice broke through Sam’s bitterness.

“What is it?”

“She’s in trouble, Sammy. We’ve gotta find her.”

“Trouble how?” Sam knew his older sister was a skilled hunter. Maybe even better than Dean. If she was in danger, it was something big.

“I don’t know, but I’ve got a really bad feeling.” Dean slipped his arms into his leather jacket and grabbed the keys to the impala.

“Well what did she say, Dean?” Sam was packing up as fast as he could move, following his brother’s frantic footsteps.

“I’m home, but I’m not.” Dean repeated, confusing forming a line between his brows. The creepy tone of the song echoed in his head.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Dean glanced down at the silver band on his finger. A pang of guilt and worry shot through his heart. He tried to shake all of the awful images forming in his head. “But at least we know where to find her.”

Your fist was clenched around your phone and your tank top was drenched with sweat.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.” You repeated it over and over again, but the flames still burned in your head. It felt real. You threw the blankets off and held back a scream. A large burn covered your right thigh, your flesh seared and oozing. The pain spread up through your leg, making you grimace as you moved.

The nightmare, or whatever the hell it was, was still fresh in your mind. You were at the house. You really only remembered it from pictures now, but you knew it was the one. Your brothers were with you, but you weren’t kids. Sam was coming home from college and Dean had a day off from the garage with your dad. And your mom… she was there. Everything seemed fine. You were happy.

And then the fire started. It spread out from your mother’s chest like her bones were kindling. Your dad disappeared and your brothers changed. Their eyes were black and they were reaching out with bloody hands. It wasn’t them. You knew it wasn’t them. You remembered pulling out your cell phone and calling Dean.

After that, you woke yourself up somehow, but not before the fire reached you. But… it was a dream. It wasn’t real. You stared down at your mystery wound. Then how the hell…

You finally took notice of the phone in your hand. It still had the last call pulled up. You hit dial and braced yourself for the panicked voice on the other line.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What the hell happened!” Your older brother yelled. You had to hold the phone away from your ear.

“I don’t…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Did I call you last night, Dean?”

“Yeah you freaking called me! You said something about being home and you were scared and that something was wrong. So what the hell happened?”

“Dean, you need to calm down. I’m fine. I must have called you in my sleep.”

“Called me in your-” Dean scoffed, “Y/N what is going on?”

“Whatever it is, I’ve got it handled.” The last thing you needed was your paranoid big brother breathing down your neck on this case. You pulled your first aid kit out of your bag. You needed a clean towel. Hobbling to the door, you held the phone between your shoulder and your ear. “I don’t need your help on this one.”

You opened the door and let the phone fall to the floor.

“Too late.” Dean huffed, pushing past you into the motel room. To your surprise, your younger brother stood behind him, giving you a hard stare. You inhaled sharply.

“Hey Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” He snapped. Dean shot him a look. You moved so he could come in and closed the door.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” You asked, ignoring the sting of Sam’s coolness.

“I could ask you the same thing. What’re you doing back in Lawrence? On Halloween?”

“I’ve got a case, okay? My case. And I don’t need you sniffing around to screw it up.”

“Oh my God, Y/N what happened to your leg?” Sam exclaimed, crouching down to get a better look at your injury. You shoved him away.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean dug through your kit.

“Sit down.” He ordered. You rolled your eyes and plopped down on your bed, letting him examine the wound.

“I can handle this, Dean. You didn’t have to drag Sam out here.”

“You called me, remember? Now stop squirming.”

“I didn’t mean to call.” You said, annoyed with your subconscious. It was just a nightmare. You didn’t need your over-protective brothers to save you from a nightmare. Even if it did somehow spill into real life. You winced as Dean lightly touched the burn. “Careful!”

“Don’t be a baby.” He fired back, but you could see the worry in his expression.

“How did you get that?” Sam asked. He wasn’t meeting your gaze. You were sure he was asking out of mere curiosity, rather than genuine concern. You tried to think of a lie, but with both brothers’ eyes burning into you, you couldn’t figure out anything convincing.

“I don’t know.” You gritted your teeth to hold back a pained groan. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing. You think I haven’t had to treat a burn before?” Dean snapped. It was half true. Sam was still staring at you.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know, Sam. I woke up and my leg was barbequed.” Your brother’s exchanged a glance. Sam shifted his weight, rocking back on his heels.

“What were you dreaming about?”

“What?”

“In your dream, was there a fire or anything that could have caused a burn like that?” He pulled your father’s journal out of his jacket pocket and started searching. You bit the inside of your cheek. If you told them, they would think you couldn’t handle this alone. And after Andrew… you had to do this alone. To prove to yourself that you could still save someone.

“All I remember from the dream is a couple of dancing munchkins and a pair of red boots.” You spat. Sam’s lips formed a thin line, his fists balled up at his sides.

“Okay, you two, quit it.” Dean ordered. He bandaged up the burn the best he could and helped you stand before nearly tackling you in an embrace. “I thought whatever got Dad…” He trailed off, pushing away to give you a stern glare. “Never do that again.”

“Dean, I’m not thirteen anymore. I can handle myself.” You scoffed, feeling uncomfortable under his hard stare.

“If you’re going to go it alone, you call me once a week. That’s the rule.” His protective arms wrapped around you again, but you didn’t fight them.

You and Dean had always been close. With dad out on cases all the time, Dean practically raised you and Sam. He showed you how to fix up cars and he taught you how to drive them. When you had your heart broken in middle school by some asshole with a bowl cut, Dean was there to pick up the pieces- and give the kid a fat lip. He bought you your first beer and the two of you watched scary movies while Sam studied for some test.

“I’m sorry.” You conceded. You looked over to the youngest Winchester and he quickly looked away.

Your relationship with Sam had strained since he left for school. When you were kids, the two of you were practically inseparable. As the middle child, you were constantly resolving fights between him and Dean. Sam always went to you for help on his homework, even though he was the brainiac. You were sure he knew what he was doing, but he wanted to make you feel important. Little Sammy with his bright smile and hopeful eyes. He made you feel like you could do anything. When he left… you just felt stuck.

Maybe that’s the real reason you lashed out at him in Omaha.

“Well, you’ve checked in on me. I’m alive.” You started to usher both of them towards the door. “I promise I’ll call next time. Bye bye, boys.” You almost had them out of the room, but Sam jerked away.

“Wait a second, we’re not just going to leave.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Something is seriously going on here.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sam.”

“Right, and that’s why you called us begging for help.”

“Well I don’t want or need your help, okay?”

“Why? Do you think I’ll screw this one up too?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “What was it you said? I should have stayed in school instead of pretending to be one of you.”

“I said a lot of things that day, Sammy.” And you regretted every damn one of them.

“It’s Sam!”

You hadn’t realized you were stepping towards each other until he was towering over you, seething with anger and hurt.

“Alright, that’s it!” Dean shouted, shoving in between the two of you. He pushed his little brother back and kept his eyes on you. “Sam, go out to the car.”

“Dean-”

“Now!”

Sam huffed and slammed the hotel room door behind him. Dean’s furious eyes remained on you.

“He started it.” You snapped. Dean ignored it.

“Cut the crap, Y/N. We both know you wouldn’t step foot in Lawrence if it wasn’t something big. So what is it?” He was right. Lawrence was just full of bad memories that you never wanted to revisit. But when you heard about what was going on, you couldn’t leave it be. Dean put his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place until you told him the truth.

“I got a call from a psychic named Missouri Moseley. Said she knows dad.” You started, recalling the events as you told him. “She said there were some strange deaths going on around here. People dying in their sleep, but not in a peaceful way. They would go to bed perfectly healthy and someone would find them the next morning, bloody and butchered. Each one with a look of absolute terror frozen on their face.”

“So what’re you thinking it is? Some kind of string of hexes? Pissed off ghost?”

“No, it’s bigger than that.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “I did some research and I think what’s terrorizing our home town is a dream demon.” Dean made a face.

“What, like Freddy Krueger?”

“Kind of.” You rummaged through your piles of research on your desk until you found the book you wanted. “Like any other demon, the bastard has to possess someone. Once they do, they have the power to enter the minds of people they come in contact with.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that they can kill someone inside a dream.”

“So Freddy Krueger.”

“Yes, Dean, like Freddy Krueger.” You rolled your eyes at your brother’s endless amount of references. And he called you the dork. Dean’s expression turned serious.

“Wait, so you decided to go after this thing alone?” He asked angrily.

“I had it covered.”

“Obviously not, because that thing got in your head!” He pointed to your leg and you tried not to look at his face. “Whatever happened in your dream, somewhere in that stubborn ass head of yours decided to call me and I’m glad it did.”

You knew, deep in your persistent heart, that he was right. You shouldn’t have tried to take this on by yourself. After Andrew you weren’t thinking straight. Andrew…

Dean sighed.

“I know that things have sucked for you lately and I haven’t been there. But you have to let me be there, kid. I can’t help you if you run off on a case by yourself.”

“I don’t need-” Looking at him now, you couldn’t lie anymore. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around your big brother. “Thank you.” Dean hugged you back, keeping you in a strong embrace until it was time to go.

Sam was cooling down in the car. He couldn’t get Andrew’s face out of his head. Didn’t Y/N realize that it haunted him too? That the sounds of the Acheri ripping the man apart added to his nightmares?

Andrew was a sheriff that the three had run into on a vengeful spirit case. Instead of shutting the hunters out, he helped the Winchesters defeat the creature that was destroying his town. Y/N, despite all her walls and barricades, fell for him. Both brothers warned her that it was a bad idea, but they started seeing each other. After burning the bones, they thought the case was over. Sam was so sure of it.

He was with Andrew when it happened. His siblings were out getting more beer and Andrew was telling him that he really liked Y/N. He said he was willing to make this crazy hunter life work if it meant being with her. The guy was smitten. Sam remembered being happy that at least one of them could have a happy ending. It reminded him of his almost-life with Jessica. He should have known how things would turn out.

The vengeful spirit was really an Acheri; a demon that takes the form of a little girl. He tried to stop it, but it was a strong son of a bitch. It was about to shred Sam when Andrew pushed him out of the way. He died to save him.

It wasn’t until after the funeral that his sister broke down. She said it was his fault. She had suggested that maybe the creature wasn’t a spirit, but he convinced her otherwise. She said a real hunter would have known. That he didn’t belong there. He should have stayed at Stanford. Dean, of course, ripped her a new one and Sam stormed off alone. She vanished soon after.

You listed every person you could remember being in contact with the day prior and Dean started the impala. You glanced pleadingly at your little brother, but Sam stared out the window. Dean gave you a small smile.

“Let’s start with the coroner.” You suggested. “She seemed oddly eager about this whole situation.” Dean nodded and started down the road.

You leaned your head back, feeling a rush of exhaustion. You had only gotten maybe two hours of sleep, and even then, the nightmare had kept your mind from resting. Your sudden fatigue didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, are you sure you’re up for this?” Dean asked. You nodded, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up. He rolled his eyes and kept driving, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. He put in a cassette tape and let the sounds of Metallica fill the car. Enter the Sandman. Huh. Kind of ironic.

You couldn’t have closed your eyes for more than a few seconds. You were just so tired…

“Dean, stop the car!” Sam yelled suddenly. Dean slammed on the breaks when he saw his sister’s unconscious face. This wasn’t a peaceful nap. Something was wrong. You started jerking back and forth, your body restrained by your seatbelt.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, flinging the driver’s side door open and getting into the back seat. “Sam! What do we do?” Sam panicked, searching his memory for anything he knew about the demon. Unfortunately, none of the facts brought any comfort.

“If it’s in her head… there’s nothing we can do.” He watched you thrash with a look of desperation.

“What do you mean there’s nothing we can do!”

“Dream demons can’t be exercised when they’re in a dream.”

“We can’t just let it kill her!”

“There might be a way… but it’s risky.”

“I don’t care what it is, we are not losing anyone else in this family, Sammy.” Dean clutched your hand, the terror on your face shooting pain through his heart. His baby sister was crying out for help and he didn’t know how.

“We’ve got to find that coroner.”

Sure enough, you were right. When Sam and Dean found the coroner, she was passed out on her desk with a broad smile on her face. The demon must not be able to invade two minds at once.

“Now what?” Dean asked, carrying your flailing body inside.

“I think…” Sam hesitated. Would this really work? “I think if we can get inside the demon’s head, we can get inside Y/N’s.”

“And kick the demon out so we can send it back to hell?”

“Exactly.”

“How do we get in its head?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

“Well, it works through who it has physical contact with right?” Dean nodded. “Well, then theoretically…” Sam slowly put his hand on the woman’s shoulder and collapsed on the floor.

“Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. There was no other option now. He set you down besides Sam. “Don’t worry, kid, we’re comin to get you.” Without hesitation, he grabbed the woman’s arm and fell into a deep sleep.

“Sam! Y/N!” Dean yelled into the dark and empty house. Sam appeared at the end of the hall. “Did you find her?” He shook his head. Dean looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

“In Y/N’s head.” Sam grimaced, surveying their grim surroundings. He recognized it almost immediately. “This is where Andrew died.”

The Winchester brothers tread carefully through the halls. It wasn’t until they climbed the stairs that they heard their sister’s screaming. They sprinted towards the noise, finding you in the corner of the bedroom, pinned against the wall. The manifestation of a little girl clawed a large mark down your chest. You tried to bite back your scream, but you couldn’t help it.

Lying on the bed was the torn up body of Andrew.

“Sam! Dean! Run!” You cried. You couldn’t bear to lose them too. They stood their ground.

“Y/N, you have to fight it. If we can get this thing out of your head, we can send it back to hell!” Sam shouted.

“I can’t!” You screamed again as the demon scratched your face.

“Get away from her!” Dean lunged forward and the demon tossed him like a rag doll.

“Dean!” Sam started after him, but the demon overpowered him as well.

“No!” You struggled against the force keeping you back. The demon morphed into Andrew, but instead of his soft blue eyes, they were menacing and yellow.

“This is what you fear the most, isn’t it?” The demon sneered, using Andrew’s voice against you. Sam and Dean were lifted up to the ceiling. “Losing them to ol’ Yellow-Eyes. You’re afraid you’ve already lost daddy and big and baby brother are soon to follow. You’re afraid you’ll be left all alone.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Dean shouted.

“Are you just going to let it happen, Y/N?” The demon laughed. “Look at little Sammy. He’s not ready to die.”

“This is just in my head. This isn’t real.” You muttered, screwing your eyes shut.

“Wrong-o. Looks like the Winchester boys crashed the party. If they burn in here…” The demon made the motion of an explosion with his hands. He cackled at your horrified expression. You looked up at your brothers, both of them writhing from pain. Just like mom. You took a deep breath and prayed that this would work.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…”

“You little bitch.” The demon snapped. He moved forward, but was stopped by the devil’s trap that you had conjured.

“We’re in my head, remember?” You continued the incantation. Dean looked impressed and Sam couldn’t help but smile. You had studied the exorcism together after the demon from the plane. The demon shrieked and Sam and Dean fell.

The boys woke up. You didn’t.

You weren’t thrashing anymore, either. You were totally still. Dean was frozen, staring down at you, trying to hold back his pain.

“Y/N?” Sam whispered, kneeling over you. “Come on, wake up.” He gently shook your shoulders. “Y/N wake up.”

“Sam-”

“She thinks I hate her, Dean.” Sam cried, desperately trying to get you to open your eyes. “My own sister. I never said I was sorry. I never… oh god, she thinks I hate her!” Sam buried his head in your shoulder and Dean was forced to watch. He couldn’t move or breathe or talk. It wasn’t until he saw the slightest flutter of movement that he was able to join Sam by your side.

“Hey kid.” Dean smiled as your eyes slowly opened. Sam snatched you up in an embrace before you could even sit up.

“I thought you were… I was so…” He stammered, squeezing you tighter. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry too, Sammy.”

The two of you sat there for a while. When you finally pulled away, you were immediately pulled into Dean’s arms.

“That was pretty badass in there.” He chuckled. You smirked.

“Well I couldn’t let Dream Douche hurt my boys, could I?” The three of you laughed. A low, rumbling growl sounded from the awakening woman.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean groaned. You weren’t finished yet. The demon still had to be exorcised from the coroner before it could hurt anyone else.

The three Winchesters gathered around it and you leaned in as it’s black eyes opened.

“Trick or treat?” You spat, landing a knock-out punch to its face.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

#Happy Halloween #winchester takeover #october #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #winchester sister #halloween #demons #dreams #sandman

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mimik-u · 3 years

Text

Flower Child, Chapter 17: Fall

AO3 Link

In defiance of every atom, of every primordial instinct that told her to run, Priyanka Maheswaran found herself in the slaughterhouse as the steel analog clock on the wall dragged her into the next minute.

5:55 PM.

But the hands of time were relentless. They kept moving, kept circling across the swath of smooth white. Seconds and seconds and seconds. Unthinking. Disinterested. Inexorable.

Seconds and seconds and seconds.

They piled upon the altar like dry kindling. One spark, and they would smoke; they would simply burn, and the reek of charnel would suffocate her where she languished and sat in the slaughterhouse, where all dreams crumbled—embers becoming charcoaled dust.

5:56.

In approximately two hundred and forty seconds, in four minutes more, Steven Universe’s guardians would file in through the door directly across from the nephrologist. She would implore them to sit with a terse nod of her head. She would not tell them that the medical staff who worked on the Truman Ward colloquially called the conference room directly across the nurse’s station—this very room—the slaughterhouse, where doctors brought the family members of patients in and didn’t leave them unchanged when they finally came out.

I’m sorry, they would say to someone’s mother, father, sibling, lover, friend, daughter, son.

We did all that we could, but the damage was too extensive.

We’ve tried everything, but your loved one is dead.

Your loved one is going to die.

I’m sorry, she would say.

She would adopt her best patient voice, which had only ever managed to be adequate. It wouldn’t be enough; her throat would strain against the sound, the crease between her eyes betraying that she was afraid.

They would see right through her.

I’m sorry, she would say anyway. She would plead. It would be the last defense against complete dissolution that she had.

She’d bring the cleaver down upon the smiles she’d wrought on their careworn faces only just that morning.

It would be quick and brutal.

Barbaric even.

I’m sorry.

She had not intended to come here—not for any patient if she could help it.

Not for Steven Universe most of all.

But life was perverse, and it was so damn unkind; it knew nothing of intentions and hopes, dreams and childish wishes. It cared little for found families and fourteen-year old boys who needed kidneys.

5:57.

Priyanka sat at the head of the long table, her hands clasped in a rigid temple upon its smooth, gray surface, knuckles white from the simple exertion of clenching them. And then, as the seconds ticked by, as they smoked, as they gathered, as they burned, the room dissolved beneath her, stolen into nothingness by the snatch of a memory, an echo from a ghost who died nearly fifteen years ago…

She had possessed a beatific smile.

Her hair fell across her gowned shoulders in flowing, pink ringlets.

Rose Quartz went into labor two weeks before her due date.

It was a starless August night.

Balmy.

The world outside slept, lulled by the susurrant hush of the wind.

Though her contractions were coming steadily, Dr. Howard’s parenthetically lined mouth grew thinner each time his hawklike eyes slid towards the monitor which registered the twenty-six year old’s increasing blood pressure. She’d been admitted the week prior for severe headaches, a symptom consistent with her kidney disease, sure, but her blood tests indicated that she was hypertensive, too.

They started her on corticosteroids to help the baby’s still-developing lungs.

Dr. Howard took Priyanka off of all her other cases.

Made it her priority to stick to Room 11078 and to page him immediately if Rose’s blood pressure spiked to 140/90 mm/Hg.

“Because we’ll have to deliver the baby right then and there,” he stressed gravely,“if we want any chance of saving them both.”

He was talking obliquely about preeclampsia, a birth condition which began with high blood pressure and often ended with damage to the livers or kidneys.

And Rose Quartz’s kidneys were already shit, so there was that, and here was yet another sordid item to add to the ever growing list of what was wrong with the poor woman’s body.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl had all gone back to the hotel room for the night—against their wills, protesting—but Rose had made them, had told them to go on ahead, to get some sleep. She would see them in the morning. She loved them.

Goodnight.

And Greg was in the hallway, making a call to an insurance provider, which left Priyanka alone with Rose, who was propped up against two pillows on her hospital bed, palming her stomach protectively as she idly watched whatever was playing on TV—some offbeat sitcom or another. Frankly, Priyanka neither knew nor care. Scrunched up in one of the hardback chairs off to the left of Rose’s bed, she scratched harsh notes on her chart for the want of something to do.

To combat the growing feeling clambering up the rungs of her constricted throat.

To drown out the laugh track.

Those nameless people, that detached crowd, they laughed and laughed and laughed.

She couldn’t see what was so fucking funny, and she intimated as much without ever realizing it, scoffing just as her pen decided to run out of ink.

(It wasn’t really about the pen.)

“You seem exhausted, Priyanka,” Rose Quartz said softly, and it was with a jolt that the resident realized that she had been caught out.

Discovered.

Seen.

She flushed as she felt rather than saw that familiar, dark eyed gaze settle upon her gently—like a blanket, warm and encompassing. She stared obstinately at her clipboard, trying to will her own scribbles to make sense in a world that had currently lost its ever loving mind.

“I’ve been working overtime all week,” she said shortly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. The wooden armrest pressed stiffly against her back, an unwelcome hand upon her spine. “Of course I’m exhausted.”

“Then you should go home. Get some rest.”

“Dr. Howard assigned me to your case again.

“Excuses, excuses,” Rose clucked, teasing, fond, amused. “He can’t make you work overtime.”

Priyanka was simply furious with herself.

With a final click of her useless pen, she replaced it in the lapel of her scrubs and finally met her patient’s gaze with a steeliness that she hoped would wound, cut, eviscerate.

But nothing, not even the possibility of her imminent death, seemed to faze the woman, who stared at her evenly, with all the air of someone waiting patiently to explain the turn of the seasons to a child who wondered where the leaves had all gone.

Change was inevitable.

Winter became spring became summer became fall.

I want to leave them with roots, Priyanka, she’d explained in that tiny examination room, so many months ago. She’d taken the resident’s hand and intertwined it with her own. A faint floral scent wreathed her hair. Strawberries, maybe. Wild and sweet. I want them to have the chance to grow…

“It isn’t looking too good, is it?” Rose asked, her voice so casual that they could have merely been discussing a chapter from a really sad book.

And the princess didn’t get to live happily ever after. And the evil forces prevailed in the end. And Rose Quartz’s body was rapidly shutting down. And there was nothing they could do about it, or more accurately still, they were doing everything.

And nothing was entirely working.

Priyanka’s dark eyes flitted to the number she had just recently scrawled on her chart in stuttering ink.

132/90 mm/Hg.

“No,” she said flatly. She felt no need to sugarcoat a bush that was already burning. Her fingers were cold where they gripped the flat of her clipboard. Her entire chest ached. “Your blood pressure is too high. The antihypertensives aren’t working.”

“Oh, well… I figured,” Rose sighed softly, still rubbing her swollen belly. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, curly tendrils of pink hair clinging softly, like gossamer, to her pale temples. “That explains the headaches, doesn’t it?”

Priyanka stared at Rose Quartz incredulously.

Gaped at her wildly.

Like she’d never properly seen before.

(She’d seen her so many times in the past couple of months, flitting in and out of the hospital, Dr. Howard’s office, and then the hospital all over again; she’d done what she swore she would never do with a patient; she became attached; she cared; it would be her own undoing.)

“Of course it does,” she snapped. She didn’t care that she was breaking a hell of a lot of rules, all the studied lines of decorum. She slammed her clipboard onto her lap and couldn't bring herself to bring a shit that it produced such a violent sound. She wanted to shake this woman, wanted to break the calm in her face, wanted her to register the simple fact that she could very well die. “If you’re still suffering from headaches, then, of course , it means the medicines aren’t working. It’s common sense, Rose. Mere logic.”

Her shoulders heaved as though she had only just ran a marathon.

And Rose’s smile—that beatific, perfect, clandestine smile—slid, like melting ice, from her mouth.

Finally, Priyanka thought savagely, and she hated herself for it.

Guilt assaulted her, a new lump in her constricted throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, dull color bruising her sharply drawn cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… I’m—”

“No, Priyanka.” Rose brought one of her hands from the top of her belly, raising it firmly against the resident’s stammered apologies. If she was injured—if she was hurting—she didn’t very well show it, her expression as impenetrably smooth as the silver face of the moon. “Please don’t say sorry… not if you don’t mean it. You only said what you’ve been thinking, what all my loved ones have been thinking, really… what an entire fool I am.”

Her soft, brown eyes briefly flicked to the multiple IVs stemming from her lifted hand. The tubes swirled all around her arm, spiraling towards a multitude of brightly flickering machines.

“Crazy,” she laughed humorlessly, the sound without familiar melody. “Throwing my life away…”

A little less than nine months had elapsed since she had first announced her pregnancy, and now there was a grayness to her once milk white skin.

A lethargy behind that calm face.

The passion, the vivaciousness, the youth all gone.

Priyanka was scarcely two years older than her.

“Priyanka,” she whispered, the name somber in the movement of that once perpetually smiling mouth, “would you believe me if I said that this ”—she gestured feebly at the hospital bed, at the medical apparatus all around her—“isn’t living? Would you understand if I told you that this isn’t who I am on the inside—all these needles and lines and medicines and awful machines?”

Without waiting for an answer, not seemingly needing one, Rose gently replaced her hand on her stomach, her palm tenderly cupping its curve.

“I know what living is, sweet Priyanka,” she continued, closing her dark eyes against some invisible memory, “and this isn’t it… this isn’t all those days I’ve stood in endless protest for a cause that I so desperately believe in. This isn’t being able to play volleyball on the beach with my loved ones, watching Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl and Greg laugh in the sand. This isn’t the fish fries we’ve hosted, nor the long nights spent planning demonstrations on the deck. This isn’t the thrill of falling in love with so many people. Meeting Pearl. Coming to understand the strange cosmos of Greg Universe. Choosing to have this child with him. Choosing this path which may very well end in my own destruction… because this , Priyanka Maheswaran, from the moment I was first diagnosed at sixteen years old, was already my destruction. And I simply have been borrowing moments of living in the full acknowledgment of that terrible truth.”

Rose did not falter.

So strong, even to the last, she did not break.

But maybe, just maybe, she cracked… just a little, just enough so that Priyanka could see.

A single tear escaped the confines of her closed eyes, slowly slipping down her cheek and into the slightly rumpled collar of her paisley-studded gown.

“So would you believe me, Priyanka?” She asked again.

She begged.

She pleaded.

“Please?”

She was asking a lot of the twenty-eight year old, to whom belief had never come easily. Priyanka was constantly interrogating her own values, checking and double checking them against rationality to ensure that they fit the meticulous schema she had constructed of the empirically observable world.

But just as there was no rationality in a twenty-six year old dying, there was no logicality in belief.

There was only a leap of faith, fingers crossed that she wouldn’t fall into the abyss.

Landing was not a guarantee.

And that was what so unfathomable to her, so cruel and so disgusting.

But what more could Priyanka say? What facts and statistics could she throw in this dying woman’s face to make her see reason that wasn’t exactly there.

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps it had always been nothing.

This student of science had no more protestations.

And in the absence of protestation, all that was left was a single choice: to jump or not to jump.

It was simple, really.

It was so damn hard.

Rose Quartz finally opened her eyes then. They were bright with her tears, and yet, simultaneously, the sheer darkness of them gripped Priyanka like the hands of a drowning sailor. The screen on the wall which measured her blood pressure had incrementally risen since they had started talking.

134/90 mm/Hg.

There was no time to waste anymore.

To pretend like they had ever possessed.

“What…” Priyanka began, her own voice hoarse, tight, strained, on the very verge of the precipice it hesitated to leap.“… what do you need me to do? Name it, and I’ll… I can’t promise anything… but I’ll try. ”

The word felt paltry, insufficient.

Trying was not an assurance, just as landing was not a guarantee.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Rose’s face simply collapsed, tears falling down both sides of her cheeks in gentle lines.

“Thank you, Priyanka,” she whispered, relief in every word, redolent in all the syllables of her spoken name.

But Priyanka did not want gratitude; she wanted an answer, something solid to latch onto, a promise she could keep.

“What you need, Rose?” She asked again, shifting her gaze her away. Her voice was abrupt—it was always abrupt—but somehow, it was not entirely unkind. “Tell me.”

The woman’s answer was immediate, unflinching; she had been obviously been thinking about it for a very long time.

It was the answer she probably would have proffered to anyone who asked.

Who took the time to wonder what exactly it was that Rose Quartz wanted.

What she needed.

What she had kept so carefully concealed behind that calm veneer of a facade.

“Take care of my baby for me, please,” she whispered. “Be their advocate when Dr. Howard and Greg will be mine… I’ll have so many people in the delivery room. I’ll have so many people rooting for me outside of it, too… but, my baby, Priyanka… I need someone in their corner, too… to root for them… to be their voice… please..."

All things considered, it was a pretty damn unreasonable request.

If Rose had to have a c-section, then Dr. Howard would need Priyanka’s steady hands to hold a clamp or provide suction; in the battlefield of surgery, her only allegiance was to the brusque orders that the old man barked to her behind his mask. The obstetrician would handle the delivery. Their own resident would whisk the baby away to the NICU.

And she and Dr. Howard would try to save Rose’s life.

That was Priyanka’s calling.

Her solemn oath.

Her duty.

But...

.... Unreasonable though it was—and it most certainly was so—Priyanka reasoned that it was likely not unkeepable.

She could help keep an eye on the baby’s heart monitor.

She could even lend a hand in the delivery procedure if Dr. Howard didn’t need her.

She could try, dammit.

She could at least promise that.

“You have my word,” she returned tersely, dark eyes still averted. She played a little with her hands on top of her clipboard, twining and untwining them, as Rose seemingly sank back against her pillows, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Don’t thank me until it’s over—I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You heard me out,” Rose replied evenly. “That’s something.”

“No,” the resident heard herself say aloud. “It isn’t.”

The hands on the clock veered into 6:00 with all the bluntness of a collision and none of its explosiveness.

The door opened.

That was mundane enough.

And Amethyst and Pearl came in first, laughing about something that Garnet had apparently said.

And Greg followed, chuckling, lightly scratching his stomach.

And Garnet made up the rear, grinning, pleased with herself.

Oblivious.

They were all so happy, this extraordinary group of ordinary people—they had no idea where they were or what it all meant or what was about to happen to the smiles on their tired faces.

And Priyanka did not have time to recover her own face, to arrange it into some manner of professional acceptability, her mouth half-open, hands rigid upon the table.

And Amethyst caught her out first.

Because she was smart like that, perceptive.

And the mirth drained from her brown eyes as she perceived the nephrologist’s expression in the semidarkness of the room.

And the two women stared each other across its length.

They called this place the slaughterhouse.

“No,” she simply said. She croaked it. Panic violated the smooth youthfulness of her face, tearing it all asunder. “No, Doc.”

“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran whispered.

It wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

Garnet only stared at her, disbelieving.

Her mouth hadn’t quite untwisted itself out of the ghost of its last smile.

“I am so, so sorry.”

She said it again anyway, though, like it counted for something, like it meant anything, as tears began to flow down Pearl’s cheeks.

Greg Universe made a sound that was half-horror, half-agony, bracing his hands against the back of a metal chair to steady himself against the blow.

ii.

A doctor, a washed up rockstar, and three Crystal Gems walked out of a conference room.

And the joke, the cruel punchline, was that the boy they all loved wasn’t going to get the kidneys he so desperately needed; he was going to go back on the list, which had always been more of a desperate gamble than a guarantee; he was going to degrade in that hospital bed for however many days, weeks, and months he had more.

Dr. Maheswaran didn’t think he had a year.

She was blunt about it.

Professional.

But her eyes gave her away, the lines beneath them, the consumptive shadows.

(Mere hours ago, her face had been transformed by the simple action of a smile.)

There were no comforting words, nor bracing gestures between the coterie of broken people who limped their way back to Room 11037—injured, defeated, the wounds glistening across their bruised eyes, their shivering mouths. Greg took the lead, the rubber of his sandals snapping harshly against the tiled floor with each step, every guttural, convulsive movement.

They silently decided that he should be the one to actually commit the words aloud, knew that it was for the best. He could be soft where Dr. Maheswaran was brutal. Comprehensive when Garnet couldn’t muster words. Sage when Amethyst’s youthful clumsiness sometimes made it difficult to find the right words.

And he could hold it together long enough to actually say it.

Trailing behind him, pale fingers gripping the fabric of her sweater, Pearl’s horror took the form of sniffling that couldn’t quite be concealed. She was holding herself together—the news had cleaved her apart—and he wondered again, not for the first time since Steven’s diagnosis, whether or not she had been right all those years ago, when she had told him quite plainly, in that incisively logical way of hers, that she was better for Rose.

They’d come a long way since then.

They grudgingly tolerated each other now.

They coparented the best that they could.

Sometimes, he thought that they were even friends, sharing beers together on dusk lit balconies and spending so many sleepless nights side by side at the kitchen table, poring over bills and medicines and more bills because the bills, above all, were endless.

And perhaps in the end, he and Pearl were even family in the way that they loudly and silently and entirely loved the same dying boy.

(That was how they had loved the same woman, too.)

But still, maybe she had had a point.

Pearl always tended to have a point...

The hallway was painfully short; Room 11037 arrived far quicker than any of them had ever anticipated.

His breath coming in hitched gasps, chest seized with a sudden tightening, Greg palmed the wood of the door, splaying his shaking fingers against its smooth grains as though to steady himself against an impossible reckoning. He was minutes away, possibly seconds, from breaking his own son’s heart, and that was on him.

Hell, all failures when it came to his son’s happiness were on him.

He was the kid’s dad.

He was supposed to protect Steven, shelter him, keep him safe from every quantifiable danger that he could.

And here he was, about to deliver another slap to his face and call it kindness.

The contradiction was not lost upon him.

The unfairness of it all stung.

It stung his eyes, and it stung his heart, and it stung all over, simply undid the man. He was a pincushion falling apart in all the places where he had been needled over and over again.

But he felt a hand on the small of his back then—gentle, kind.

He expected it to be Garnet or maybe even Amethyst; that had always been their sort of thing.

But when he looked back behind him, his mouth half-formed in an empty, perfunctory thanks, he saw that it was Pearl, her big, blue eyes still edged with the remnants of her tears.

Her sweater, neatly pressed, seemed to swallow her entirely.

She stood perfectly within the lines of one of the tiles on the floor, feet poised like a ballerina’s. Rose had once told him that she’d been trained to dance—once so disciplined in the art that she could stand upon the tips of her toes for as many minutes as her tutors required.

Even when she was devastated.

Even when she was hurt.

“How… how do I do this?” Greg asked before he could stop himself. The words tumbled out of his mouth in an ungainly rush. “How do I… how can I… I mean… he’s just a boy… a kid, and I—“

And I don’t want to do this, Pearl.

I don’t want to see him go through this.

Pearl swiped delicately at her nose, and she swiped at her leaking eyes, but the carnage still remained. It was unlikely to disappear for a very long time. She wrung her slender fingers together and twisted them apart. She congregated them in a prim temple just above her stomach. She eventually let them fall to her sides. She glanced down. She failed to look back up.

Shoulders shivering.

Feet still in first position.

“I… I don’t think there’s any right way to do this,” she finally said. “Not really… but I—we’re behind you, Greg.”

“Yeah,” Amethyst agreed.

Garnet nodded her silent assent.

“We’re… always behind you.”

The weight of these words, the implicit meaning behind them, was not lost on Greg. He immediately understood how much it must have cost her to say such a thing to him, and yet, he simultaneously knew that she must have meant it—for Pearl rarely ever said things that she didn't mean.

She gave silent treatments, and she evaded tough emotional conversations with all the agility of a dancer; she shot people glares that she thought to be discrete from the corners of her eyes; she kept secrets to herself, kept them tucked away in the same places where she had invisible shrines to the woman they both loved.

But she rarely lied.

Or maybe, more accurately, she wouldn't lie now.

And so, choked, overwhelmed, grateful, he could only muster something like a vague sound of gratitude in the back of his throat that he thought she equally understood because she nodded at him primly.

And then, he turned to face the door again, palming the brass handle.

On the other side, he heard a snatch of laughter.

Steven.

Assuredly.

Perhaps he was watching one of his favorite shows, laughing at something a character had said.

Greg twisted his hand downwards and pushed lightly upon the door.

iii.

The door opened upon a scene that Yellow Diamond had always intended to flee before she could be caught out, but one anecdote led to another, and before she knew it, Steven Universe had started telling her about how he’d met Blue at the cemetery where their dead daughter lay. And the conjured image of her bathrobed wife, holding a hibiscus aloft in her gently curving palm, plucked an dusty chord in her chest.

So this was the flower that had been on the nightstand for a couple of nights now.

This was the story of a boy and a woman and a cemetery and a handful—a lifetime, really—of aching, miserable griefs.

“She told me that she married you so her name would be a pun,” Steven had said, grinning mischievously.

“Something to that effect,” Yellow dryly returned.

And he pressed for more stories, more memories, more chords inside her chest. How did she meet Blue? When did they fall in love? Who proposed?

He asked so many questions, his brown eyes alight with curiosity, that she was reminded so much of Pink that it almost hurt to even look at him. But, just as she had done with her daughter, she sighingly indulged him, groaning and moaning and making it out as thought she was doing him a massive favor by relenting. And he only smiled at her teasingly—like he was in on the secret.

It was the other way around.

She was the one at his mercy.

And so she told him the story of the princess and the knight in less than fantastical terms, laying out the bare bones of her and Blue’s first meeting with a halting voice as the memories slowly came flooding back: Blue Montgomery’s sweeping ball gown, the spidery chandeliers, the waiters swerving in and out of the crowd bearing silver trays loaded with champagne, her ridiculously dramatic mother waltzing through the ballroom with all the radiance of a sun.

God, how many decades ago was that now?

Years and years and years.

“Our daughter used to love this damn story,” Yellow murmured at the end, briefly flicking her eyes downwards. “We told it so many different times to her that she could repeat it word for word.”

“It’s a very good story,” Steven returned, laughing. “Did you really think about punching that guy?”

“Fleetingly, yes,” she almost smiled, “but—”

But then the door opened so abruptly, bringing reality back in with what appeared to be a collection of harried looking people. The businesswoman’s head sharply cocked towards the far side of the room to greet an assemblage of expressions that she was surprised to find in total strangers: anger and disgust.

Complete and total loathing.

Damn, at least buy me a drink first.

“You!” A slight woman in a sweater hissed furiously.

“Uh-oh,” Steven Universe said, shrinking slightly beneath his covers. “Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh...”

But Yellow Diamond wasn’t listening to him anymore, instinctive indignation rising to her aid and defense as she stood up from her chair and mustered as haughty of an expression she could for a woman wearing silk pajamas.

“Excuse me?” She asked venomously, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

“Pearl…” The balding man standing next to the sweater-wearing accoster tried to plea, placing a big hand on her much smaller shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t… uh—?”

“No,” The woman named Pearl snarled, jerking her arm away from him. Yellow could see that her pale eyes were bright with tears, which seemed like an overreaction if she had ever witnessed one. She didn’t know these people from Jack, Jill, or Harry on the sidewalk! “I want to know what she’s doing here! She has no business—“

“Pearl, wait!” Steven tried to interject, jerking upwards from his pillows. “It’s okay! She just wanted to vis—“

But his voice got lost in the shuffle as the taller woman behind Pearl suddenly stepped forward, her powerfully muscled arms clenched into fists by her sides. There was an indefinable air of authority about her that Yellow only recognized because she, too, possessed it. Her bicolored glare was a weapon in and of itself; the harsh florescence of the overheads glinted off the sunglasses folded neatly across the collar of her sweatshirt.

“Leave,” the woman said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Garnet! No! She wasn’t doing anything wro—“

“Well, frankly,” Yellow shot back before Steven could complete his thought, “I’d perfectly well surmised that without your help. But forgive me if I’m having trouble piecing together the context behind this unwarranted rudeness.”

“You know what you’ve done,” Garnet growled.

“No!” The blood inside her head churned, simply boiled. She had never known when to leave well enough alone. “I damn well don’t!”

“1999—Diamond Electric vs. Hutchings,” Pearl began to tick off names on her fingertips. “2005—Diamond Electric vs. Davis. 2011—Diamond Electric vs. Bach. Are these names ringing a bell? Unsafe factory conditions! Unconstitutional wage gaps! Leaking waste reservoirs!”

“All settled in court!” Yellow returned with a cruel laugh that she did not remotely feel, raking her cold eyes over each and very one of her newfound opponents in turn. It had always been her against the world for as long as she could remember—she the trapped lioness cornered by the angry mob. (But the mob always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would devour them and gnaw on their bones for sport.) “What are you all? Lawyers? Reporters? Protestors? Please, spare no sordid detail as to why I’m being read case names for events that happened long ago.”

“Yellow Diamond, please—” Steven’s voice was tiny by her side; she could not hear him; or perhaps, she didn’t want to hear him.

She wanted to fight.

“We’re, like, the Crystal Gems,” the smallest woman to Garnet’s left said emphatically. Her lavender bangs fell over one of her eyes, but she blew them back with a small puff of air.

“Never heard of you,” Yellow replied flippantly and untruthfully.

Because she had heard of them—several times, in fact.

They were some small activist group that had always been a vaguely minor nuisance at her side—especially a few years ago—but they’d never done anything more than force her lawyers to spend some time haggling in appeals courts.

A waste of time and money for everyone, really.

“Never heard of us?” Pearl spluttered wildly, her complexion whitening. “Never heard of—“

“Enough, you all!” The doctor who had been at the back of the group finally seemed to have found her tongue, and a pretty harsh tongue it was because her exasperated voice clearly cut through the melee. “We’re in a hospital for goodness’s—”

But the doctor was drowned out, too, lost in the onslaught of noise suddenly coming from one of the monitors above Steven’s bed—a shrill beeping noise that put an effective end to all the squabbling. The neon green line measuring his heart rate was spiking in short peaks, the numbers climbing, climbing, climbing… and beneath it all, clutching his chest, Steven was struggling to breathe, gulping in shallow bursts of air, his skin paling. Sweat beaded at his pale templed, hid eyes wide with fear.

“STEVEN! Steven!” So many voices yelled his name; it was all a jumble, a blur, a dissonant symphony.

The white coated doctor shoved past Yellow unceremoniously, nearly knocking her to the ground in her haste to get to her patient’s side. She pulled an oxygen mask down from one of the receptacles behind the bed, placing it over Steven’s mouth and nose.

“Breathe, Steven!” She commanded, her voice tight with obvious strain. The man and the woman named Pearl scrabbled over to the child’s bedside. Tears streaming down his ruddy face and into his beard, the man placed an arm around Steven’s back, steadying him. Pearl clasped one of his hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

“In and out,” the doctor continued. “Breathe. One… two… three. That’s it, honey. There you go…”

As Steven’s breathing evened out, the monitor’s beeping died down, nearly becoming regulated once more. Exhausted, overwhelmed, so quickly undone, the boy slumped against the man who was holding him, closing his eyes heavily as the doctor took the opportunity to more securely fasten the oxygenated mask around his face.

But what happened next, if anything happened at all, Yellow Diamond did not stay to find out.

Violently tearing her gaze away, the woman turned around and did what she should have done the moment she made the poor decision to come into this room in the first place.

Shoving past the remaining Crystal Gems, uncaring that she knocked Garnet in the shoulder, Yellow limped away as fast as her sore leg would allow her to go, nausea rushing up the column of her throat, her cheeks burning with shame.

What a pathetic creature she was.

A monster.

A lioness among men.

(The lioness always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would end up destroying the people she cared about, too.)

iv.

Pearl only had eyes for one person in the entire world, and his name was Steven Universe. Both in the absence of Rose and in the lingering presence of her, he was the center of her universe, the sun which she orbited day after day after varied, sundry day. Weak, pale, cold, he shivered in his father’s arms, barely able to keep his eyes open as his heartbeat continued to regulate itself after that latest episode.

“Acute stress arrhythmia,” she heard Priyanka explain behind her. The nephrologist had her back turned to them as she read numbers on a nearby computer monitor.

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

Everybody in the room knew exactly who was to blame for his acute stress.

Shame colored them all; shame welled up in the corners of Pearl’s eyes as she continued to hold on to Steven’s hand.

Garnet collapsed into the chair that Yellow Diamond had just vacated, placing both of her hands over her eyes.

What children they had been.

What fools.

Pearl closed her own eyes in a useless attempt to stem the tears that were flowing freely now, unable to hold them back any longer. Shame wrapped a hand around her insides and squeezed.

Steven was… he was—oh, God, the word was too unbearable to even think, much less say aloud—and here they all were—fighting with someone who would never see reason.

How stupid.

How pathetic.

“Steven, wait, honey. You need to put that mask back—” But Priyanka’s soft admonition was apparently ignored; Pearl looked up just in time to see Steven feebly lifting the oxygen mask from his face, dropping it just below his mouth. Each movement looked like it took something from him; he couldn’t even lift his head from Greg’s chest.

So he stared straight at her.

Directly into her eyes.

He had his mother’s eyes.

Her dark and lovely eyes.

“S-she…” She had to lean forward to hear him, for his voice was barely a whisper, an echo, a ghost. “…she really wasn’t being mean.”

“Shh, Shtu-ball. We know,” Greg tried hoarsely, pressing a kiss into his son’s mass of curly hair. “Save up your strength…”

“Steven,” Pearl pleaded, barely able to discern him through her tears. She refused to let go of his hand; it wasn't as much for his sake as she would have liked to kid herself to believe. “I’m so, so sorry. We shouldn’t have squabbled with her like that. We just weren’t… I mean… I wasn’t… I was stressed—I-I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stressed?” Again, his voice was so small that it struggled to be heard over the hissing of the various machines he was hooked up to, and the fact of it nearly undid her right then and there. Salt coated her lips. It lacquered her tongue. “Why… why were you stressed?”

No.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this... the news wasn’t supposed to come from her. It was supposed to be Greg’s job to do this; he was the one who was good at emotions; he was the one who knew how to have these sorts of conversations without completely dissolving into nothingness and rubble.

(He was the better person.)

(The one who Rose chose.)

Pearl could yell at a tyrannical businesswoman for longer than she could hold herself together in front of Steven; she could protest wars; she could hold demonstrations; she could plan fish fries; she could keep herself together on a day to day basis, bound by Scotch tape and glue.

But for him?

For Steven Universe?

Her eyes refilled with fresh tears, and she finally withdrew her hand from his, placing it over her mouth in the quietest sign of her incapacity.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Childish.

Fool.

“Oh,” Steven only rasped, understanding immediately. He was so smart like that; he never missed a beat. “The… the kidneys fell through, didn’t they?”

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Greg said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Steven as gently as he could manage as Priyanka took the opportunity to replace the mask over his nose and mouth.

“The kidneys were damaged during the donor’s accident,” she explained dully, “and we couldn’t detect it until we were already in surgery… I’m sorry, Steven. I am.”

But Steven never took his eyes off Pearl, those dark and lovely eyes.

They were wounded eyes.

Bruised eyes.

Goddamn exhausted eyes.

"I'm sorry, Steven," she whispered. "I am so, so sorry."

The mask prevented him from speaking.

In place of his reply, there was only the steady hiss of oxygen and the dark-cloaked presence of grief, the seventh person in an already crowded room. They sat on the edge of Steven’s bed, simply taking up precious air.

Pearl couldn’t breathe.

I'm sorry.

Night descended upon the sky like a heavy curtain, unfurling its black velvet across the horizon with dark finality, the punctuation unmistakable. Sitting atop of the bulky air conditioning unit that stretched the length of the hotel room’s window, Amethyst gazed emptily at the spectacle, knees pulled up to her chest, her still-damp hair pulled over one of her shoulders. If she was back at home, there would be a roof to clamber onto and a vast canvas of stars to behold… but here, there were only skyscrapers that stretched their supplicatory hands upwards to an unhearing god. Here, there were stars made out of lit windows. Here, there was that familiar feeling of suffocation, of being cloistered in...

Cornered.

And unlike in a good alley fight, putting up her fists wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

Three hours had passed since they’d nearly given Steven a heart attack and then told him that he wasn’t going to get those stupid fucking kidneys. And still, the scene haunted her mind’s eye in the absence of anything else to think about, to obsess over, to grieve. When they had all left for the evening—Greg the only one staying behind for the night—he couldn’t even muster enough energy to tell them goodnight, simply blinking at them from over the top of his oxygenated mask before closing his eyes.

Merely twelve hours ago, they’d all been sickeningly happy because they had thought that the nightmare was over… but that sensation had long passed, a relic of time immemorial now.

Now, there was only darkness.

A feeling of falling.

The ground giving way beneath their feet.

Now, there was only Dr. M’s only consolation that wasn’t really a consolation at all.

He’s at the top of the list now.

The door opened and gently closed behind her. Amethyst swung her head around just in time to see Garnet come in, a towel slung around her corded neck, her white tank top damp with sweat. She’d gone to the hotel’s gym to obviously treadmill away from her feelings, which was a way more productive solution than Amethyst’s choice coping mechanism. She raised her half-empty bottle of wine in greeting—reckless, loose—accidentally sloshing a little over the top of the rim.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Pearl?” Garnet studiously avoided her gaze as she lowered herself to the carpeted ground, leaning against the wall. Her shoulders hunched forward, elbows braced on top of her knees, she almost looked like some kinda statue—still, beautiful, tragic.

“Tryin’ to drown herself in the shower, I think,” Amethyst shrugged before taking another hearty swig of Moscato. The tangy notes stung her tongue. “She’s been in there for an hour now, so you might not have hot water later.”

The gym trainer shrugged noncommittally as though this was all the same to her.

And the two of them simply listened to the hissing of the water beyond the thin door to Garnet’s left for a handful of seconds; the serpentine sounds lashed the ground. Lashed their skin. Their ears. Their chests.

Amethyst sniffed and took yet another drag of wine.

There was nothing else better to do...

... but the silence was unbearable now that it was optional.

She turned her bottle upside down again.

Liquid courage.

“I met the old lady, y’know,” she said softly, her consonants a little rushed around their edges, a little tipsy, a little unsure. “Blue Diamond. It was… yesterday, I think? Hell, I think it was yesterday. God, I don’t even know at this point. But she was in the lobby, waitin’ for her valet to pick her up…”

Garnet didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up at her, but Amethyst knew she was listening from the way that every line in her body was rigid with attention.

“She’s kinda snooty, I think. Kinda looks like she’s got a stick up her ass… but she’s got a good heart, I guess. She cares about Steven…” Amethyst remembered the way her accented voice broke when she spoke of him, all of the syllables collapsing upon themselves in the throes of her gentle tongue. And she remembered the woman’s eyes, how startlingly blue they were, haunted underneath by the ravages of grief and time.

“A lot,” she added. “That surprised me.”

“I… I shouldn’t have let Yellow Diamond get to me like that,” Garnet said, reaching up and gingerly holding her head. “I know. I know.”

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’, G,” Amethyst immediately and fiercely returned, shaking her own head. “I mean, it’s kinda what I’m sayin’, but we all got caught up in her. She got under all of our skins. I’m just, I dunno, I’m trying to—“

But she broke off then, ripping her gaze away from her roommate and back towards the window.

To the darkness.

The absence of stars.

She raised the bottle to her lips once more but stopped short of taking another swill; the sickly sweet perfume nearly gagged her.

“It’s just… it’s difficult,” she continued, setting the drink down between her knees. “That’s all I’m sayin’. God knows why, but he likes the Diamonds, and the Diamonds like him… and we shouldn’t… I mean, we should try our best not to shit on him for that because—“

But Amethyst stopped short again as the natural end to that sentence reared its head off the floor of her stomach, striking just where it hurt.

Sick, ashamed, inconsolable, she covered her eyes with both of her hands.

“Because we love him,” Garnet proffered, her voice quiet, almost inaudible over the noises coming from the shower, “and we want him to be happy.”

That wasn't the end of the sentence.

That wasn't what they had both been thinking anyway.

“Yeah,” she croaked gratefully, wiping roughly at her eyes. “Yeah.”

They resumed their silent vigil together then, mostly because it kept them from commenting upon the fact that it wasn’t just the water they were hearing behind that thin bathroom door.

Garnet reached upwards and grabbed the remote from the edge of the nearest bed, turning the volume up on some stupid sitcom to drown it out.

The water.

The weeping.

And the weeping and the weeping and the weeping.

vi.

Blue Diamond had been on the balcony for hours now, long enough for the sky to bruise from peach to blue to purple, long enough to see the first stars ascend to their storied mounts, glimmering down upon the world in silvery, distant specks.

Long enough that the tear tracks riveting down her cheeks had dried upon her long face in stiff lines.

Long enough that she wondered passively to herself if she had been here forever, a statue carved out of flesh and bone and misery and blood.

Long enough to reflect upon the fact that she wasn't referring to the balcony... but to something more abstract.

Metaphorical.

A state.

A cycle.

A condition of perpetual mourning.

Her phone laid facedown on the tiny table between her chair and Yellow’s empty one.

The last text she had received had been from Steven Universe.

It wasn’t even a sentence.

Just a fragment.

No exclamation points, no abundant elaboration, no joy.

Tuesday, 7:09 PM:

Steven: kidneys fell through

Blue had seen the boy just this morning—dropping by after she had left Yellow’s room—and she could remember, quite distinctly, how radiant his face had been, utterly metamorphosed by its own happiness.

She’d been drawn in by it, magnetized.

Oh, how the two of them laughed and smiled and played.

How many years had it been since she had last played?

It was before Pink died assuredly.

But even then, the details were murky to her; she’d been so wrapped up in her school, that she had forgot what it was to be twenty-one, and that twenty-one year olds were still children in a way, that they loved to have fun.

She’d been so strict with her sometimes.

Forbidding.

Cold.

(Her own mother would have been proud.)

But she and Steven Universe? They played, and they played, imagining all the things that Steven was going to do once he had recovered from the transplant surgery. Some of these plans were simply extraordinary in nature. He was going to run all day just because he would finally feel like it. He was going to make a massive sandcastle on the beach with all of his friends. It would be palatial, obviously, so they could live in it together, making seashell necklaces and seaweed crowns. He was going to eat all the donuts that he wanted—his diet had been so restricted since he’d taken ill—and then some.

“And if I get sick,” he had said proudly, “it’ll just be a normal sick, and that’ll be perfectly okay.”

But it wasn’t the extraordinary inventions which had touched Blue, which had moved her to the quick.

Rather, it was the simple things.

The mundane ones.

He would get to go to school with all the rest of the kids his age. He could go to a theater without worrying that his symptoms might flare up during the movie's climax. He could ride a bike through his charming, little beachside town.

He could simply be a child.

And that would be enough.

That would be perfectly okay.

“And I could come over for tea and cakes on Fridays,” he teased as she had prepared to leave, running one last hand through his curly hair as she stood up from her chair. He smiled at her gently, his mouth tilting crookedly.

“Aye,” she returned warmly, returning the gesture with an almost easiness that still surprised her. “I would love that..."

But just as quickly as these fantasies had risen—entertained, explored, viscerally imagined—they had been wrenched from his hands just as immediately, and so Blue Diamond sat on her balcony for hours on end grieving for the poor boy.

But because she was selfish, because she was predictable, because she was broken, she gripped the arms on both sides of her chair, and grieved, too, for Pink Diamond.

(She was always grieving for Pink Diamond.)

Fingernails digging into the weathered wood, she thought herself a desolate fool for ever kidding herself into believing that she could go a day without being painfully aware of her daughter’s ghost.

She thought herself a masochist for inviting the same pain again in the form of Steven Universe.

She thought herself a coward for not daring to say three words to Yellow Diamond, three words that wouldn’t make everything between them right, but three words that needed to be said nevertheless.

And she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.

Not even when Yellow was in a hospital bed, covered in lacerations and bruises.

Because how could she say such a thing when she hadn’t said it in so many years upon years?

I and love and you.

And she kept thinking these things until they chased each other around her head in circles—dizzying, unceasing, senseless circles that gradually chipped away at the tentative hope she had held aloft in her chest ever since she had met Steven Universe.

Spirals and spirals and spirals.

Fool.

Masochist.

Coward.

Circles and circles and circles.

And somehow, every time, Blue Diamond concluded where she had first begun: alone in her own misery, drowning.

Fool, masochist, coward.

vii.

The walk to the parking deck that night was slow and laborious, one foot dragged after another, the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee in her hand doing little to perk her up for the long drive home. Priyanka couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed past her shift so long, but she’d wanted to make sure that Steven remained stable… that he didn’t suddenly crash on them after such a long, hard day on his body… that she continued to try (and miserably fail) to keep Rose’s last request.

Take care of my baby for me, please…

Ever since his episode, Steven’s breath sounds had been decreased on the right side of his chest; she instructed the intern on duty for the night to keep him on a steady supply of oxygen and to page her immediately if his stats even shifted by a margin.

“Like, even a number or two?” Dr. Stephens asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yes,” she had snapped rather harshly. “Even a fraction.”

But somehow, even as Priyanka had said it, even as the poor intern had flinched, she had known to herself from the very beginning that she could quantify every little integer and it still all be for nothing.

Chronic kidney disease didn’t care about numbers.

It didn’t care about people.

“Hey! Priyanka! Wait up!"

Oh, hell and shit—she recognized that voice.

Wincing, she tried to arrange her features into an expression that didn’t completely betray her entire disinterest with humanity before she turned to face her colleague Dr. Reed. Maisie Reed, an ER doctor, had been at Empire Regional for about a decade longer than Priyanka.

She was a good woman and good friend, but frankly, she just didn’t know when to shut up, going off on long, rambling tales that were hard for Priyanka to weasel away from once she got rolling.

This was vaguely annoying on most days, but tonight, the nephrologist simply wouldn't be able to bear it.

“Hello, Maisie,” she returned brusquely as the older woman caught up to her. Her curly, flyaway hair was tucked back in a messy bun, her wire-rimmed glasses perched a little crookedly on the bridge of her nose. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Maisie rolled her eyes. “Did you hear about my star patient?”

“I think I actually met her,” Priyanka said, resuming her brisk walk. Maybe if she made it to her sedan before Maisie started a story, she could make a narrow escape. “She somehow made it to my patient’s room. Goodness knows for what reason. She and the patient’s family nearly got into a fistfight.”

“Ha! You're kidding! I didn’t think that part was true, but some of the nurses were saying—”

“It’s true,” she affirmed curtly, cutting across the woman. “All of it.”

They lapsed into silence then as they walked side by side on the harshly lit concrete. The nephrologist could see her tiny car near the end of the row. She pulled the key out of one of the pockets of her lab coat, clicked the unlock button, and hoped that Maisie would finally take the hint.

“I think we’re only parked a little ways from each other,” she said cheerfully, dashing all of Priyanka’s dreams.

Joy.

They continued to walk together, the heels of their shoes clicking reliably against the floor.

“I also heard… that you’ve got a bad outcome,” Maisie murmured, her voice soft, empathetic.

Pitying.

It was the pity that Priyanka hated most of all.

Her companion’s hazel eyes raked her over piercingly, like an X-Ray, and there was tenderness in her expression.

Understanding.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It’s not a bad outcome yet,” she snarled, rounding upon the woman fiercely, not bothering with polite pretense anymore. Screw her. Screw everything. Screw this fucking day. “He’s still alive. He’s still got a chance. I’ve just got to find…”

“… kidneys, yes. I’ve heard,” Maisie finished gently.

Priyanka violently turned away again, increasing her pace so that she pulled ahead of the other doctor. Her entire body strained against the sudden burst of energy.

She was tired.

So fucking exhausted.

“Then don’t resign him to the grave yet, Maisie. I’m still fighting for him, dammit.”

“Yes, I know that, too… I’ve always admired that about you, dear. You never give up.”

“Yeah, well”—she didn’t exactly know what to say to that—“that’s what we do.”

“Mm, yes,” Maisie replied. “That’s what we do…”

She finally reached her sedan with no small feeling of relief, proceeding to the driver's side with the expectation that Dr. Reed would continue onwards to her little red Nissan at the end of the row, finally putting an end to this unpleasant conversation.

Infuriatingly, though, Maisie stopped, too, her eyes bright with kindness and warmth and all the other things besides that Priyanka simply couldn’t stomach at the moment.

“Yes, well, goodnight,” she said pointedly, making a motion to open the door of her car. She threw her briefcase in rather unceremoniously. It slammed against the passenger side door and fell feebly to the ground.

“What’s his blood type, Priyanka? I’ll keep an eye out for any patients that fit the description… you know what the ER is like. We get potential donors all the time.”

Yes, this was assuredly true, but Steven’s blood type being what it was, finding a donor so quickly would be a damn near miracle.

Priyanka exhaled harshly through her nose but relented anyway—anything to end this absurd conversation.

What the hell—it wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s a long shot… but O neg, so I need an O neg donor. Had any of those on your docket lately?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

And here was the part where Maisie’s kindly face would undoubtedly fall into dismay because of course she hadn’t seen an O neg patient in a while—only seven percent of the entire population had O negative blood, which was a startlingly rare number. So, of course, she would shake her head profusely and apologize and swear to keep her feelers out…

… but Maisie Reed didn’t exactly follow the quick script that Priyanka had constructed in her head.

In fact, her pink lips wobbled into a radiant smile.

“Honey,” she laughed, “sit down and take a sip of that damn black coffee of yours because you’re not going to believe this.”

#rose quartz #steven universe #blue diamond #yellow diamond #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #priyanka maheswaran #s: steven universe #mimiku #flower child #holy shit — with this chapter #we've reached 100K words

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