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anika-ann · 8 months ago

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The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8k

Summary:

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons. With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things �� left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head. “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down?

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

#CT 2024 raffle entry #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #soulmate au #soulmate steve rogers #the unexpected #anika ann

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celestialtarot11 · 23 days ago

Text

🤍 Energies for 2025–What to release, bring in and future outlook! 🤍

Hi friends! This will be a chunkier bigger reading for yall. Please remember you control your life and any timing mentioned here is really a rough guideline, you manifest your life. Anything can happen when you’re ready to heal at your own time <3 including relationships! I hope ya’ll enjoy and found clarity and help through this. Feel free to like comment and reblog.

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1’s! For what you need to release to come into 2025 is heavier energies that have been weighing you down. I heard humiliation ritual—so I don’t know if someone around you or many people have been plotting on your behalf in a negative way. This could be them sending you negative energies, trespassing your boundaries. I feel you guys have been tense for a while because of it, it’s been unpredictable, chaotic and stressful. This release can look like crying, screaming it out, journaling your honest feelings even if you feel guilty about expressing them. This also may look like physically leaving your environment for a while. I heard “take that vacation plan or hangout.” Don’t underestimate leaving your town/home for a change! This can very well help heal you at this time. Even going to the park regularly for a few minutes can help. There’s also something about being surrounded by the color green (green is known to help signal to our brain health and wellness, and peace) so maybe getting a plant, or getting into gardening would be great! Plants also help to suck up our negative energy. Getting a snake plant or eucalyptus would be great. Set those boundaries and distance yourself from those people. If it is work related I see around Christmas time or just before you will feel this release. By then, a lot should calm down and will settle in terms of emotional trouble and work! Its also important to set boundaries and distance yourself from those kinds of people, and to put yourself first here. Take the time you need to express your feelings and thoughts. Whatever that looks like for you! I heard music can be incredibly healing for you too. So listen to the music you really like and spirit said no depressing shit 😭 like okay, ill mention this, when I get sad I listen to lady gaga and it helps because all shes doing is raving and im sad and it makes me laugh

Whats coming in for 2025: For some of you I saw getting into exterior design for houses would be something you love to do, or maybe it’s just decorating your house. Im seeing elaborate designs on the patio and a well made garden and fountain so perhaps for 2025, this will come true for those of you that have been working on this. It will be done! Anything house related and/or construction. Some of you also are starting a new job, business, hobby that will be bringing in money. I don’t know if in 2024 you took a year to start this new idea, project, etc. and in 2025 it will be paying off. For some of you, 2024 was the blueprint for this job/project, and by the end of 2025 you will build a legacy and receive the success you see. Lots of financial gains. Some of you may also have a family of your own which can be getting a new pet in 2025, or actually creating a family! So if you want that, spirit says yes this will go through. But I also see it hasn’t been easy on you financially either. Im hearing the past few years it was hard financially and you’ve been working for a long time to save up, to get out of a situation. 2025 will bring more than just getting out, it will bring financial relief, freedom, and emotional support.

For some of you, you’ve been waiting to hear from a friend. A best friend, or loved one, or whoever you know it is. Maybe a partner. You’ve been waiting for news to come in maybe a text, call. Or for spirit to show you a sign that they are watching over you. You will receive a sign, text and/or call in 2025 from your person! This could have been someone you grew up with, a parent or guardian very close to you. This can also be a romantic partner. I also see travel plans with this person, so if you’ve been planning a vacation, travel plans, 2025 will go through.

Thank you pile 1 for being here! Be sure to leave a like comment or reblog <3

Pile 2: Hi there pile 2! We have the classic case of overthinking your intuition and trying to analyze it. You’re trying to make sense of where its taking you. I heard you have to be lost in order to find your purpose, so perhaps this is how you’ve been feeling for weeks. You’ve been trying to plan your way out of this, or overthink how 2025 will go. But I see spirit wants you to fall back and trust the unknown—which obviously can feel like a lot because it is the unknown. Its what we can’t see, or perceive. I think its less about trying to see the end result, and more so about trusting no matter how it goes, it will fix itself. It’s philosophy in a way, although I can’t remember which philosopher suggested this, I believe it may be Taoism. But their advice was that eventually, “everything has to fix itself.” And that statement holds a lot of reverence and internal trust of the intuition and the power of the unknown. Letting the unknown work behind the scenes in your favor. Letting yourself release that pressure and stress, and letting the unknown serve you. If you have no idea what is happening, even better, there is so much room for creativity. Think of it as a void ready to be filled with your creativity, your manifestations, you. Release overthinking the unknown, it won’t always bring you the answers you seek. I see that you may also have a mother figure that was difficult, harsh and analytical of the intuition, and you may have wounds surrounding that as well. It’s okay to have wounds, i think its more so how we let that affect our individuality. Spirit says we have make room for our personality alongside others, because we aren’t meant to be carbon copies of one another. So, do whats different. Trust your intuition this time instead of overthinking it all. Some meditation can help you detach and relax from your mind. It may take more than one session! Spirit also says if you have trouble sitting up in meditation, try laying down. If you fall asleep, thats okay too. Tomorrow you can try again, thats why it exists.

Whats coming in 2025: Primarily, I see you trying to grasp spirituality. I dont know if you just got into it, or its been a long time since you dappled in the unknown, but there’s this cycle of releasing the mundane or “corporate” cycles. Where you only focus on the 3D itself and less on your inner world. But I see that this is happening to bring you full circle to yourself, releasing constant attachment to logic, analyzing and reasoning. Obviously, it’s helpful when needed, but now sprit is saying it is affecting your ability to hear your intuition. So for 2025, I see you battling a lot of intuition and trying to understand why it exists, its core value and purpose. I also see this as beautiful because this is the start of an inner journey and its not a destination. I see you refuting a lot of what you once knew especially if people taught you to second guess your intuitive nature. If you suffered a lot of losses in 2024, 2025 will be about bringing forth emotional changes to open you up. In terms of inner healing, expansion. A curiosity to understand yourself. But I also see resistance and I think it is because of what you went through and trying to keep yourself safe. Maybe there is apart of you that feels the more you get into spirituality the more you’ll see yourself for what you are, especially those hurt parts, so some of you distance yourself in hopes of protection. But i also see this manifesting as discomfort, emotional numbness, and a feeling of being lost. I do believe some of you are thinking, “I must be here for a reason even if I don’t want to face it.” So some of you want answers yet are anxious to know what it means. I do feel 2025 is about finding your inner purpose, which can always change, and its about finding solidarity in yourself. I see a lot of financial abundance and health, so your bodies health will improve. You will find more time for rest and creativity and clarity. So the answers you want are coming! I also see you’re getting a promotion or a better job in 2025, i heard climbing your way up. So you’ve been working hard. And now 2025 is about enjoying those financial successes. You may also move apartments or homes and will find a lot of peace which will help your understanding of your intuition. Some of you may meet a partner in. 2025 through work, and they may actually help you find that job. Some of you may meet a great mentor to help you, and perhaps its learning a native language you’ve been wanting to do!

Thank you for being here pile 2, your presence is appreciated!

Pile 3: Hi there pile 3’s! Im not sure if you’re dealing with two guys at the moment, two exes, two friends. Either way they could be giving lots of mixed signals, issues, disruptions in your personal life. One can be hotheaded, arrogant, impulsive. The other can be hypocritical, hide from emotions conversations and be avoidant. This could even be family members. But i see they bring lots of conflict and drama, and you feel stuck with them. You don’t know what to do. And spirit wants their energy scrapped honestly, because why continue the same drama for 2025? I don’t know if some of you have kept up the drama for appearances to have something worth talking about, if thats the case, spirit wants you to ask yourself why that is and to spend time alone to realize if that means more than your own health. Its time to start thinking and prioritizing your feelings. I get the sense no one has been listening to some of you, especially these two people. They’ve been only saying “i want this,” “i feel this,” and left you drained or shut out. So it’s time to put your foot down and end this! Let 2025 be all about you. Spirit wants you to start thinking: I have to set boundaries for my own healing, and not for the benefit of anyone else. This is something I have to do on my own. This could be deciding which person might be better for you and if you’re not seeing results in both people it may be better to be alone. This is to protect your energy. I also see spirit will be giving you clarity and the answers you need for which direction to go, whether its the go ahead with one person, or to leave them both behind for your healing. Pay attention to your dreams, gut feelings. And logic will help this situation. Compartmentalize your emotions for now and focus on what you do know and see coming from both people! What kind of mixed signals they’ve been giving you or one person. I see your inner child feels abandoned, alone and scared which is why they may be clinging to unhealthy partnerships to feel love. I heard we accept the love we think we deserve—so doing shadow work is necessary to release these energies. And remember to be kind to yourself too in this process <3 it can become overwhelming. But spirit says if you can pay attention to your core wounds and see how thats driving your behavior towards unhealthy partnerships, you can release this cycle for 2025 to come into an empowered state!

Whats coming for you in 2025: I heard the gift of seeing clearly. You’ll see past peoples lies, deceit, manipulation, ill intention. I believe you’re prioritizing less of a rose colored lenses outlook, and more of a sharp mind. I also see a lot of mental stability and strength from you in 2025 to work out anxieties, doubts. I think 2025 mentally for you is about allowing your anxieties and doubts to flow without it necessarily controlling your actions. Give it time to air out and settle. Its an emotional process, and yet a logical one right? Because you’re learning to sit with your emotions and process them in a healthy way, than to disrupt the cycle. And then you begin to see clearly, see better. In a way that empowers your choices overall. So, any boundaries that have been weak you will look at and try to understand why that is. Later on in 2025, id say march-april, i see a lot of emotional rejuvenation and success. I see you coming to terms with your human nature, emotions, and finding it easier to accept your anxieties and doubts and handle them. I see you being okay with being single if you are, and working life out on your own. This will only resonate for those of you not in w committed relationship! But for those who are single, I see you manifesting and enjoying your work and being able to find peace around march-april time. Its a very important time because you’re giving yourself what you wish you had and its here. I feel that you’ve been balancing giving and taking in relationships and now you’re giving to yourself. Everything you looked for is within you and you can see it now. I see work going great, lots of success! And funnily enough all piles have this same message of financial success yet their struggles are all different :) so, there is relief for you on the other side of fear in 2025. You may go through a wardrobe change and choose a refined, comfortable look. You may have events which require to wear fancy outfits! You’ll look great. I also see a lot of body neutrality and coming to embrace your body for all it does and how it works, rather than trying to force body positivity. I see divine femininity being embraced, and theres an ease and flow of energy! You’ll be better able to manifest too. In terms of relationships and romance I see a lot of fear and doubt which will take time to heal when you’re ready, but I see you standing strong regardless. Saying “you know what ive got fears and doubts and I don’t necessarily want a relationship right now, because i need the time and space to work on myself” and thats how you’re embracing it :) If you are manifesting a relationship, there will be lots of healing done before you come into one in 2025. I see a possible relationship towards the end, but please don’t let me tell you how you should live your life. Timing is whenever we choose we are ready. And thats entirely up to you.

Thank you pile 3’s <3 your likes comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Paid Readings 🤍

#astrology community #astrology #devi post #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick one #pick a card romance #pick a card #astro placements #astro posts #astrology notes

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sorcerersseestars · 6 months ago

Text

LIMERENCE (III)

PART I, PART II

preview: So maybe this was unexpected, but maybe not. Your parents had always told you to be careful who you lent your heart to, but even more careful about who you made promises—or rather, vows—to. You were never fond of listening to their advice, however life saving it turned out to be…

word count: 11.9k

warnings: Violence/violent thoughts, mentions of illness/injuries, mentions of choking, vomiting, and blood, actual romance finally?? 😳

song rec: Mahler Symphony III, mvt VI <3 for nostalgic/bittersweet parts

NOTE: JJK0 edit! In this timeline, Geto invaded the school, failed to obtain Rika, but left unscathed. The twins depicted as mid-late teens.

“WILL YOU please lay off for once?” The man sighs, an unusual note of annoyance threatening to creep into his voice.

“But, Master Geto, this is horrible! They look like they're on death's door and you basically dropped them!” The girl exclaims loudly. “Who even are they?”

He hoists your limp body back over his shoulder, easily handling your weight. He had set you down for a few moments, as his shoulder had begun to ache after being burdened in one position for too long, but he intends to move you to a more permanent place than the ground he had momentarily set you on. He begins to walk away and, like always, the girl is his shadow, following behind immediately with no hesitation.

"I didn't drop them, Mimiko. My shoulder was hurting, so I had to put them down..."

"You practically did. If that's how you treat someone who's unconscious, remind me to never pass out around you. It looks like they hit their head when you 'didn't' drop them."

"Well, they have a price to pay. I wasn't necessarily trying to be gentle," He chuckles bitterly, “Let this be a lesson to you and Nanako. Don’t make a deal you’re not willing to follow through with until the end. It could cost you your life.”

The young girl frowns, confusion clear in her bright eyes. “But Master, aren’t they a sorcerer and not a monkey? I feel their cursed energy, even though it is weak. Why are you acting like this, Master Geto? I feel like…I feel like I don’t know you right now. How can you be so kind to us and then…and then treat this sorcerer…”

Her voice that started strong, as she means her words and thus began her inquiry with conviction, now gradually fades in volume until nothing can be heard but the roar of the wind.

He turns away quickly, trying to conceal how wide his eyes are, to hide the quiver that runs down his neck and through his fingers, to bury the contradicting feelings and morals that are tearing him apart. Yes, he has always been praised for his gentle nature and softness of his soul. Yes, he has always been commended for his strong moral compass and even sometimes accused of being self-righteous. Satoru had a tendency for the latter, but you…you would always readily agree with Geto and would look to him for an example. He remembers your eyes on him when Satoru pledged to kill all of the sorcerers that had involvement with Riko’s death during the Star Plasma mission. You had instantly laid down your weapon when Geto told Satoru that it wasn’t worth anything, that it wouldn’t change the tragic outcome that had already fallen upon them.

But when Geto later had—in the view of the sorcerer’s world, and most definitely in your view as well, he can only assume—his fall from grace, you had not looked to him or followed him then. But as he only had one opportunity to speak with you after, he could not pretend to fully understand your entire opinion of him—did you despise him, did you feel betrayed by him, or maybe, deep down, did you understand?

He doesn’t know what you truly think, and probably never will. And yet he cannot hold back about what he thinks about you—you, a pivotal figure in the Jujutsu world, a strong sorcerer who also has a strong attachment to the strongest sorcerer. You, who represent and fight for the future generation of sorcerers. You, who often put your life on the line to save mere monkeys, and teach others to do the same.

He turns back to Mimiko, who looks to him with wide, hesitant eyes. Her presence alone reminds him of his purpose, of his mission, and he quickly summons his resolve. He has his reasons, after all.

“Master, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to doubt you or disrespect you—“

Geto sighs, expression softening at the slight tremble in her voice. “It’s quite alright, Mimiko. I am the one that should be apologizing. It’s just that it is difficult for me to be in their presence, knowing what they are and who they are close to. It makes me someone…someone that I sometimes wish I wasn’t. They are both symbols of everything we despise, of everything we are fighting against. I can’t help but feel disgusted and irritated in their presence.”

She blinks slowly, processing his words. "So you mean them and...are you talking about this sorcerer and Gojo Satoru?"

"Very good," Geto praises, but he does not smile. "Those two have been on my list a long time."

Mimiko raises an eyebrow. "I understand about Gojo Satoru, of course, but why this person? I don't recognize them from our black book. Aren't they just a teacher at Tokyo or something?"

"(Y/N) was our classmate at Tokyo, and it is true that they teach there now. They are particularly special to our situation, you could say. They could turn the tide for us," He pauses, then shakes his head decisively. "No, they will."

Mimiko's lips twitch as many more questions threaten to burst out, but she holds her tongue and instead takes in her master's expression. Excitement glitters in his dark eyes, or maybe anticipation. He looks like he has cracked the code to something very important, giving him an almost manic appearance. But there's also something else in his countenance. She can't put her finger on it, but an emotion akin to regret occasionally interrupts his otherwise eager expression.

"They have always been infatuated with Gojo. I can't say it was love at first sight, but as close as you can get to that. I knew that, eventually, they would fall for Gojo. For a long time, I never thought anything of it, other than the fact their heart was going to be broken someday. After all, he was notorious for his arrogance and, well...philandering, I guess you could say, back then."

Mimiko rolls her eyes. "You mean he was a playboy."

"So, you get my meaning," Geto chuckles. "Yes, he has always been like that. And ever since the night that...that I rescued you and Nanako, ever since we went our separate ways, I haven't been able to lure him out. Not that I've wanted to, yet, but you know my goal."

"Yes," She breathes out the word almost instantly. "To eliminate all non-sorcerers, for the betterment of our world."

"That's the end goal, yes," He says, letting out a grunt of assent. "But remember what I told you and Nanako all that time ago?"

He turns to face her, eyes searching her expression, wondering just how firmly she believes in his ideals.

She looks up at him instantly, eyes glinting with a determination and purpose beyond her age. The intensity of her gaze almost startles him. "Gojo is the sorcerers' figurehead. Once he is eliminated, they will panic and we can make our move. They won't have the advantage anymore."

"Figurehead...maybe I said that before, but he is no figurehead. The higher-ups are, definitely, but Gojo...Gojo is the real deal. As much as I hate to admit it, we are no longer equals and haven't been for a long time. He is the most difficult to handle, and that's why we have to take him out first."

"Even though you didn't get Rika? I thought acquiring that cursed spirit was necessary."

Geto sighs, "You wound my pride by reminding me of that failure...but, no, that won't be necessary anymore."

He enters his room and haphazardly deposits you onto his bed, although it is still considerably gentler of a movement than before. His eyes sweep over your form, scrutinizing your sickly appearance. You look rather convincing for his case.

"Why not?" Mimiko prompts after the silence stretches out too long. Her patience can only last so long—he has been avoiding what she has really wanted answers for this entire conversation.

He nods to your form. "Gojo will come for them soon. He knows this is my doing, I made sure of it. And once he sees their condition, knowing that he caused this...and after they explain our little Binding Vow we took, his worldview will shatter."

He doesn't elaborate. Mimiko, who was listening with rapt attention, shakes her head in confusion. "Master, please explain this to me. What do you mean to happen? I thought you wanted to dispose of him."

"I did, once. When I was angry with this world, angry at his sudden insistence on helping the weak, I did. But I've never truly wanted to kill him, just as he has no desire to kill me. He's supposed to, but he won't. We were best friends, after all. After this happens, after they succumb to this disease, then I can't imagine he will ever want to help anyone ever again, monkeys included. Even if he doesn't join us, he will no longer be a threat."

His dark eyes trail over your form, taking in your gaunt cheeks and thin hair. He lingers on your closed eyes—even though you are unconscious and technically resting, the fatigue that plagues your features does not fade in the slightest.

“Which disease, Master?” Mimiko prompts, seeing that Geto’s mind has drifted. His eyes quickly shoot up to meet hers.

"They are afflicted with Hanahaki disease. This is what I anticipated all those years ago as I watched them fall head over heels for Gojo. That he would be too cautious to show his affection to them and they would believe their love to be one-sided. It is not, I know it is not, but I convinced them otherwise. I made a Binding Vow with them to guarantee that they wouldn’t notify anybody else about their condition, once it has befallen them. They vowed to keep quiet until they sensed they were close to death."

“They took this Vow willingly, or…?” Mimiko asks in a hushed voice, as if afraid to offend her master.

“Yes. I told them that one day they would fall prey to this disease, that their love would be unrequited—they easily accepted this. I convinced them that letting them succumb to the disease would be…would be for the best.”

Fear and confusion pulse through Mimiko, quickening her heart rate. She is quickly piecing together all the information that pertains to her master, and through every line of thought she comes to the same conclusion. She squeaks out, “But won’t he come for you?”

Geto shakes his head calmly. “No, he’ll come for them.”

“That’s not what I meant, Master,“ She says with urgency. “Won’t he kill you?”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“He’ll be angry, he’ll want revenge! You implied that he…that he loves them, too.”

“Killing me will not bring them back.” He says simply, coolly. “It would only bring him more pain. His love and his best friend dead in one night? It would be too much to bear.”

Mimiko shakes her head worriedly. “Even so…would he really consider you his best friend after that? I think you are misjudging the situation slightly, Master…”

Geto laughs, “You believe me to be a fool. I can’t say I disagree, but I know him. Too well.”

“Can I ask you something, Master?” She asks quietly. He nods his consent with an intrigued expression. “Did he ever expect you to defect? When you two were close, did he ever know this side to you? If not, then…how do you expect to know him at all, either?”

Geto says nothing, train of thought interrupted by a bright sound. Mimiko’s point is clear, clearer than the peals of the bells from the rustling wind chimes outside. The wind that consumed Mimiko’s words before now disturbs his thoughts with this incessant chiming.

He eventually says, “He will be defeated, especially with the knowledge that they agreed to this. That they agreed to die for him.”

“Why did they?” Mimiko whispers, gazing at your broken form with unbridled pity in her eyes. “What did you promise them?”

“They came to me, begging to spare him. They knew I would come after him some day. They admitted to me that he had direct orders to kill me, but could never go through with them or even think on them. They feared this weakness of his would cause him to hold back and leave him vulnerable if I ever decided to go through with my plans. But I, of course, needed something valuable in return if I were to promise to spare him. And this is the only valuable exchange I could came up with…a way to defeat him without ever needing to physically do so. They didn’t hesitate to lay down their life, and I…”

Geto pauses, reflecting on his feelings for you. You had once been a good friend, although he always thought you were too lenient towards Gojo—always walking around with large puppy eyes for him, at times blind to his faults. At one time, you and Geto were so close that he perfectly knew your order at the local cafe, down to the two sugar packets and only a few droplets of cream, and that you would only ever go to bed earlier than 2 am if you knew they were serving your favorite breakfast in the morning. In comparison, Geto doesn’t know much of you anymore—but he knows your literal fatal flaw—you give up too much of yourself for Satoru, this time being your life.

“Well, I have to admit it didn’t feel great guaranteeing the death of an old friend, but…it is for a higher purpose. Our purpose. It’s for the sake of the entire world. If Gojo goes down, in one form or another, we will be able to infiltrate and dismantle their whole society. Their death won’t be in vain.”

A new voice pipes up from behind him, soft and choked. "That's too cruel, Master Geto.”

He looks over to the doorway and sees only long, dark brown hair and shaking shoulders.

“Nanako?” He questions quietly, tone gentle, yet curious.

Nanako slowly turns around, her face revealed inch by inch, and he is surprised to find glossy eyes and rivulets of tears pouring down her cheeks. One hand is pressed over her mouth as if she is trying to rein in her emotions, but is failing.

“I know it is for the betterment of our world—“ She is stopped by a telling rasp in her voice. “But—I really can’t believe in love and goodness anymore if they die.”

Before she can hear any response from either her sister or her master, she turns on her heel and races down the hall.

The air in Geto’s lungs is stuck and feels like it’ll be forever suspended there, but then Mimiko says, “She still believed in that stuff?” and he can finally exhale.

Gojo Satoru isn’t having a good night—or, rather, a good morning. Ever since you called him at 3 am, he has been wide awake and filled with a jumble of emotions. He was so relieved to see your name pop up on his screen—he thought it was a good sign, that maybe you didn’t hold his ghosting you for months against him. He was also glad that he didn’t have to initiate contact with you, which he honestly didn’t feel like he deserved after how he’s brushed you aside—although he couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe he was just a coward and in denial about it. He’s often in denial about things pertaining to his feelings—oftener about feelings involving you.

Ever since the call ended, when your screams and near unintelligible speech were abruptly cut off, Gojo has been frozen: hands shaking, vision coming in and out of focus, mouth turning to sand. He can’t reach you right now. He wishes he could teleport instantly to you, but he remembers Shoko’s news that you have moved to a new apartment about a month ago. Shoko had been shocked when he admitted he didn’t know, and further so when he didn’t proceed to ask for your new address. Gojo always used to come by and bother you at your last apartment, after all. And here his past behavior comes to bite him in the ass.

His mind begins to race, full of regrets and hopes and fears; his thoughts fly by faster than they ever have before. It makes him think of you all the more, and memories he had long forgotten begin to surface.

It’s funny how fast he is inundated with memories. In school, you had always teased him about how slow he was in school, specifically how slow of a test taker he was. He would always finish last, no matter the day, no matter the subject.

“You must be a slow thinker,” You used to tease him. Once you had followed it up with, “I’m surprised you even take the tests seriously. I figured you’d just Christmas tree it and be the first one done just to get it over with. Wouldn’t ‘the strongest’ want to focus on training more anyway?”

Your mischievous smile flashes through his mind, your laughter so full of mirth that he hasn’t heard in forever also rings through his mind; his chest aches. Back then, he didn’t exactly know what to think of how you could never stop poking fun at him—he didn’t understand what you meant by it, but he sorely, sorely misses it now. Back then, he couldn’t help but try to fire back with something he found equally as insulting, but it never had the same effect. His face would always be flushed and his charisma would melt away, revealing a stuttering and helplessly in love boy. Nobody could look at him and recognize him as what would be the strongest sorcerer in their age, or relate him to the cocky, rich Gojo heir who was rumored to be head of his clan soon. He was a mere boy would wanted to impress a regular sorcerer of no material or familial importance or fame, a sorcerer who was smart and witty enough to cut down his personality—or, rather, his persona—down to his raw self with just a few words. And yet when Shoko and Geto would poke fun at his crush on you, he would vehemently deny it. He didn’t truly believe it himself—or didn’t want to believe it—because of how vulnerable you made him feel. Despite all the signs, he maintained his claim of not liking you, which was hard to believe with his strong need to impress you.

He couldn’t use his charm or fame to get to you, so he wanted—no, needed—to impress you through other means. For example, Gojo did indeed prefer training to studying, but he couldn’t just say that, otherwise he would reveal too much. So whenever you would tease him about his molasses pace in academics, Gojo would begin to either shrug or quip back with something about how you were quite the opposite, a quick learner with perfect grades but always the first one to be beaten in a spar and the last to understand a new technique. You never seemed offended or even embarrassed by his claims, which irked him, considering how ruffled he would get if you said something similar to him. You would just smile as if you knew something he didn’t.

The real reason why he tried so hard in academics is—surprise, surprise!—that he wanted to impress you. He found that you were difficult to impress—you didn’t seem to care about how strong he was as a sorcerer, or about his looks and charm. In Satoru’s view, you always seemed to prefer his best friend Suguru for his mind and moral compass. Suguru was naturally book smart and didn’t have to work hard to get good grades; if Gojo fell behind, he thought he wouldn’t have a chance with you at all. In actuality, you cared little about others’ grades, but you were amused—and, okay, maybe a little impressed—by how diligent Gojo seemed to be.

Either way, you’d be destined to fall for Gojo Satoru anyway. Either way, Gojo Satoru was destined to be oblivious to your attraction toward him.

But, your love for him was inconsequential—either way, he would always come for you. Even if you hated him, he would be there, with no ounce of hesitation. He wouldn’t think twice when it came to you, even if it involved someone he also had a painfully complicated relationship with.

His former best friend, someone he truly believed to be the only one to understand him, blindsided him all those years ago. Even you, who were always so perceptive and attentive to your friends, hadn’t anticipated Geto’s horrific exit from society.

That was the first time you had seen cracks emerge in Gojo’s mask. He remembers your concerned gaze on him when he would forget to laugh when a joke was told, or at how quickly his perpetual smile would fall once he thought nobody was looking.

“We’re all shocked,” You had tried to console him once, even though he acted like he didn’t need it. “It’s not your fault, Satoru. Nobody expected this…”

You two were enjoying ice cream, sat lazily on the steps of the school. It almost felt normal, but the fact that Satoru’s treat was untouched broke the illusion for you.

“Who said it was?” He tried to laugh like he normally would, but it sounded faker than he anticipated. “If that idiot wants to go running off like a little bitch, let him.”

Your brow had furrowed as you tried not to glare at him. You hated when he used misogynous terms like bitch or pussy when describing someone negatively, but he couldn’t give a flying fuck right now. You knew he was struggling so you said nothing on this, but your sharp gaze reminded him of his fault nonetheless.

“It’s a little more than just running off,” You had sighed. “The report was…”

You trailed off, not wanting to recount the atrocious crimes someone you believed to be so gentle committed.

“Like I don’t fucking know that.” He snorted bitterly, angrily.

The mask was slipping more, that much was obvious. You wanted to help ease it off, but knew you would likely have to press him. It wasn’t healthy for him to be holding everything inside.

“There’s a rumor that they’re going to assassinate him,” You said quietly.

“It’s no rumor,” He said, voice quivering from trying to hold back his emotions.

“Really?” You turned to him with rapt interest, but he didn’t elaborate. The school-wide known yapper sat silently, his jaw clenched.

“Why are you holding back?” You suddenly accused. “You never say so little.”

“He shook his head, avoiding your eyes. He felt like he could snap at any second, that his mask would shatter for good and he’d be completely exposed in front of you.

“Why are you holding back?” You repeated more loudly. You didn’t seem like you were going to give this up.

He suddenly threw his uneaten, melted ice cream to the ground. There was a palpable crunch as pressed his palm down on the cone, shattering it. You flinched, momentarily caught off guard, but deep down you weren’t surprised. He had so much guilt, anger, and sadness sitting dormant inside of him, and it was only a matter of time before it erupted.

Your eyes followed his figure as he pushed himself up and started to walk away. He didn’t glance at you—but it guessed he was being avoidant rather than spiteful.

“Don’t you dare walk away, too,” You had pleaded, but it sounded more like a threat. “We’re not done here, Satoru.”

You stood up quickly, ready to go after him, but your fear would soon be proven unfounded, because Gojo stopped abruptly at your words. For a moment, both you and him were still. You were scared of what might happen next, but you didn’t dare say another word.

You didn’t have to. Gojo swiveled around, eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before and chest heaving as if he had just been battling. Long gone was his usual cocky smile and condescending, playful gaze.

He began to shout at you. “What do you want? For me to admit to you what you already know?! Well, fucking fine! They ordered me, me of all people, to murder him—or, as they put it, ‘dispose’ of him. Is that what you wanted to hear me say? Are you fucking satisfied now?”

Your eyes were wide, taking in this new and painful information. You recovered quickly, speaking back in the most gentle tone he had ever heard from you.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I didn’t know. I can’t believe they would…No, I guess I can believe that, but they can’t…they shouldn’t be allowed to order you that just because you’re the strongest. I’m sorry I pressed you about this,” You murmured. “I just wanted you to let out whatever was hurting you. You keep pretending around everyone, but…You’re hurting more than any of us, but you won’t admit it. You can tell us your pain…you can let it out.”

Nobody had seen through him like that before.

Then words began to flow out, words he had never told anyone. Truths that had never seen the light of day. He hated that you had this effect on him, that you able to unravel him like nobody else could. He could never keep anything from you, and this alone would influence many decisions in the future.

He shouted the words out, thinking that maybe if he yelled it would force the ugly painful lump in his throat to go away. “I hate that I’m expected to kill my best friend. I hate that the higher-ups use me as a weapon. I hate that ever since I was born, that’s all I’ve been and ever will be. And I hate most of all that one day, one of us will have to kill each other, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Your eyes swam with tears, horror clear in them. You knew his words were true. You knew it was true, and you had to do something about it. Later you would seek out the other side behind Gojo’s back, not knowing why desperation burned through you until you had settled a deal.

You looked so scared that it startled Gojo out of his miserable state. He came closer to you, arms held out as if he was halfway thinking about embracing you.

“God, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, angel.” He said, mistakenly believing that his yelling induced your horrified state, eyes crinkling apologetically behind his shades.

“Angel?” You questioned, taken so aback that you barely remember what other words he uttered.

His cheeks suddenly colored. You had never noticed him blush before, even though he had because of you many times, so you couldn’t help but be surprised at his redness.

“I-is that okay?” He asked, uncharacteristically sheepish.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mr. Flirt. I’m sure you call everyone that, anyway.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I’ll reserve this one for you. Of course, everyone else is baby, or sunshine, or pookie—”

“Okay, can I give you one then? How about harlot? Can I call you that?”

“What? NO!”

He smiles at the memory—the first time he called you angel, which was then cemented as his ‘ironic’ nickname for you. How you never realized his pet name was indicative of his feelings, he could never understand.

His smile falls—that pet name hasn’t crossed his tongue in ages, just as he hasn’t been open with you about his feelings and situation. He is sorry to say that you and him haven’t had the type of transparency you had in the past in a while, at the very least not since he was backed into a corner by the higher-ups and forced to ignore you. And maybe even not since the time you once came to him, bawling your eyes out and claiming you felt like you had done something awful that involved him but you couldn’t remember what, as if someone had put a spell on you to forget.

These memories all run through his head at a speed beyond what he can comprehend. He feels like he is missing something, and that it may be hidden somewhere deep in his memories. But Gojo does not have the luxury of time on his side; he has no more time to dig through his memories. Even if the answer may lie from within, he has a better chance of finding it out by pursuing you.

After he allows himself a final moment to remember and remember and remember, to regret and regret and regret some more, he starts making calls—he needs to gather information as quickly as possible. He knows that Geto is crafty and calculated—this must definitely be related to your Binding Vow with him. He can’t guess what it entails, and as much as he wants to believe that Geto must have some good in him still, he can’t rule out the possibility of your life very much being in danger. You being some sort of a twisted bargaining chip is a fear that does not go unnoticed in his mind. He knows this to be highly probable, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Gojo knows that Geto and his association, disguised and funded as a “religious organization”, are constantly moving around. Their temple’s location has been known for a long time, but they are rarely there, intel has reported. Thus he makes calls to all of the top sorcerers involved in collecting intel to see if a new hideout has popped up. He was hoping that they could pinpoint exactly where Geto is, but they only have a few general ideas of his location.

Gojo hangs up on the last sorcerer right after they could only propose two vague locations. He wanted to berate all of them for being inadequate, for letting such a high level dangerous sorcerer like Geto to exist without detection, to let him run amuck in their society with virtually no consequences, even after targeting Gojo’s student for his sole personal benefit. But Satoru knows this anger would be misdirected—projecting the higher-ups problems onto these sorcerers who are just obeying orders.

“Fuck!” Gojo yells, the panic and frustration rising with every passing moment. “I’m going to kill those fucking higher-ups one day.”

At least they all had similar guesses, so Gojo has an idea of where you could be held. The only completely useful piece of information he acquired was your current address, as much as it pained him to ask a random person for it. And just like that, Gojo is on the case. He could have called in specialized trackers, but it would take too long to dispatch them and would definitely result in interference from the higher-ups.

Instead, Gojo pockets his phone—which he had thrown quite forcefully onto his bed in his frustration after failing to locate you—and teleports to your new address. He races up the steps to your floor and stops in front of your unit. He frowns. Your front door is ajar, which makes him bristle. It’s a clear statement from Geto—brazenly boasting that he got to you easily and with little care about being caught. Well, really no care—which is suspicious and smells of a trap. But there’s no way Gojo will choose not to pursue you—and, unfortunately, Geto seems to know this, too.

Gojo sets his Six-Eyes on your apartment and finds no active cursed energy. Finding the coast to be clear, he quickly pushes the door open further and walks in. He is first struck by the mess in the living room, eyes darkening at the sight of the broken glass and neglected blooms lying on the floor.

You struggled all the way to the door, is what Gojo assumes of the eerie mess. His jaw clenches as he recalls your shrieks as you were dragged against your will. He continues on, reaching your bedroom first. It is surprisingly in order there, so he moves to your bathroom—and that’s when his heart drops into his stomach.

Blood. Blood is everywhere. He feels sick. The scent clogs his nose and he swallows to keep himself from gagging. He sees the imprint of your hands in the edges of the pool of blood on the floor. He feels sick. He sees red handprints on the doorframe where you desperately tried to hold on while you were dragged out—there are gouges in the wood from your nails digging in. He feels traces of your cursed energy, fainter than they should be, overpowered by Geto’s strong residuals. He feels sick.

The only key detail that Gojo fails to notice is the singular baby blue petal, darkened from a layer of dried blood, lying on the floor. You had disposed of the flowers earlier in the night because their presence only allowed you to think of him—but this petal had evidently escaped your notice. Is it ironic or fitting that the object of your affection and disease does not notice the petal in the color of his eyes?

Geto has been waiting patiently by your bedside. You haven’t woken yet, which spares him the ordeal of conversing with you. He fears that you would be troublesome if you realized that Gojo would be coming for you—if you truly realized what was going on, you’d in hysterics, surely. Good thing that he prevented that the day he made the vow with you.

On the other hand, however, Geto is curious about what you would possibly say to him. Would you be glad to see him after all of these years? He doubts you truly despise him, deep down. After all, you always aspired to be more like Geto—from his composure, to his gentle character, to his morals. You definitely don’t adhere to the same moral code now, and Geto is positive you think of him lowly for his misdeeds. But perhaps you may still envy him for his composure and even his apathy to an extent—his ability to keep calm in life or death situations, and for his ability to kill without batting an eye. Maybe you wish you more like that so that you could take him out and spare Satoru the pain of doing so.

Or maybe he is completely wrong. Maybe you have changed—if you had not been in such a sickly state, would you have fought back to the point of killing him? Have you gained enough mental fortitude and tenacity to kill him in Satoru’s stead?

After spending a few more minutes mulling over his thoughts, Geto leaves the room. Satoru should be here soon—but not too soon. After all, nobody knows his new location—only him and his girls know. So Gojo shouldn’t arrive at least until sun-up, or at least he hopes. He’s depending on that—if not, then he might have to interfere more directly.

Geto exits the house, hoping the chill of the night air will clear his mind. It is very cold tonight—a few small flakes are falling, but melt as soon as they touch the ground. He’s itching for a smoke, a warm stick of cancer to fill his lungs with. He detachedly wonders if Shoko is still keeping her old habit.

“Master Geto?” Comes a small voice.

He turns his head to acknowledge her presence.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks with genuine concern. “It’s late, Nanako.”

She shakes her head. “Not really…this place doesn’t hold the best memories for us.”

He nods. “I know. That’s why we chose it though, right? It sets the scene well.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of eerie that nobody lives around here anymore…I mean, this countryside was full of monkeys.”

“I remember very well,” Geto says with some disgust. “You and Mimiko were too good for this place. They were cruel to you.”

She sighs. “I know, we really hated it here. To think what would have happened if you didn’t rescue us…thank you, Master.”

Geto smiles gently. “There’s no need to thank me. I only did what was right.”

Nanako smiles back, looking a little sheepish. Then her smile falls and she nervously twiddles her fingers together. “By the way, Master, they’re still asleep…and still breathing. I thought they would…I thought you said they’d be deceased by now?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Hm. I thought so, but perhaps I was mistaken. I’ll go check on them. You should go back to bed and try to get some rest.”

He seems troubled and his mood noticeably soured. Nanako nods and quietly excuses herself, not wanting to bother her master any further. But before she is out of sight, Geto loudly lets out a string of expletives from. When Nanako turns to look at him, she sees that his head is in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Nanako asks, rushing back to him.

“He’s here,” Geto says through gritted teeth. “Nanako, go. I don’t think he’d harm you, but I won’t take any chances. Wake Mimiko and go to the place we discussed earlier.”

Nanako doesn’t hesitate. She really doesn’t want to be anywhere near Gojo Satoru, who her master has admitted surpasses him in strength. She’s seen Geto in battle before—she can’t imagine how monstrous Gojo must be in comparison. She rushes back into the house, set on going directly to Mimiko, but instead pauses by the room where you rest. She studies your sleeping form, lingering on the unfairness of your situation. But what can she do? She is powerless to help you.

And so, Nanako and Mimiko flee just as they were told to. One wonders if she’s doing the right thing, the other yawns and asks about breakfast.

While they’re escaping, Geto ponders what to do. It’s not dawn yet—the sky is starless, covered by black clouds full of snow—but the barrier Geto placed has been penetrated. Gojo Satoru has arrived. Early. Which is, well, rather inconvenient: you aren’t dead yet. But he can’t just go and finish you off—it would defeat the entire purpose of this set-up. He doesn’t have to lay a finger on you for you to die. That’s the beauty of it.

Geto suddenly stands up straight, alert from the feeling of cursed energy so near. His eyes trace the perimeters of his vision, but he sees nothing even in his peripherals.

“Where are they?”

The words come from nothing, from nowhere. It’s as if the words enter only his mind and not his ears.

His instincts are going off like crazy—ringing through his head as a massive wave of cursed energy washes over him from behind. Geto slowly turns around, regaining calm as his thoughts catch up to his instincts.

There stands Gojo Satoru, the man who can change everything. Just like the time Geto ‘revisited’ Tokyo Tech, white bandages obscure his famous eyes. While Geto blends into the night’s shadows, Gojo almost glows. His white hair and pale countenance instantly draw attention to him.

As Geto quickly looks over his figure, his eyes begin to narrow. Considering what he’s seeing, he’s not sure how to approach this or what his reaction will be—because right now, Gojo looks different. He doesn’t stand with his usual casual air, and even lacks the cocky smirk he normally wears. His hands aren’t in his pockets, he isn’t leaning on anything, and his weight isn’t shifted to one side. In contrast to his normal posture, he stands tall, finally doing his height and strength justice.

If Geto were wiser, he might be scared. After all, he’s never seen Gojo look this serious, even when he was messing with his students in front of him. But knowing what he knows, Geto can’t help but feel smug. Almost everything has gone according to plan so far—a plan that he had enough foresight to create years ago. His prediction of you falling for Gojo and feeling the keen sting of unrequited love came to fruition—surely, everything else will also fall into place.

Geto chooses not to be wise.

Geto looks at Gojo calmly, a small smile appearing on his face. “Always so direct nowadays, eh, Satoru? Well, nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here. Without the strongest, this would all be pointless.”

Gojo’s lip curls. He can hardly believe that the man in front of him used to be his closest friend that he thought understood him the most. To Gojo, it’s sickening how gentle and familiar Geto’s easy smile is, knowing he has killed more innocent people than he ever saved.

“Oh, really? Care to enlighten me on your worthless plan this time? I’m really starting to think you actually went crazy just like everyone said.”

Geto walks away from Gojo, back turned to him. With no eyes on Gojo, he leaves himself completely exposed and at the mercy of Gojo. Geto’s display of trust makes him bristle, eyes darkening under the swath of white that lays over his eyes.

“That would be easier to accept, wouldn’t it?” Geto says, but quickly pulls away from the topic. “You know, Satoru, I didn’t even give you the address. I would give a warmer welcome for an invited guest…say, like (Y/N)! They have been received well by myself and my twins.”

Gojo sighs, adopting more of his casual charm as he chuckles dryly.

“Just what is this, Geto?” Gojo holds up his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re the jokester now, because this isn’t fucking funny.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo. I’m thoroughly amused.”

His dark eyes, glinting in the light of the moon, crinkle in said amusement. Gojo holds back a shiver—there’s something sinister in those eyes.

“Just because you have forsaken yourself doesn’t mean others will accept that,” Gojo says firmly. “I thought that would be obvious by now.”

“And when has that stopped me?” Geto says with a tut. “Besides, you’d think someone would try to interfere if they didn’t accept this. But alas, you have left me alone for years. Is this not a product of your own doing?”

Gojo almost falters. After all, he’s not wrong.

“I leave you alone for years and you go and—” He audibly exhales. “You harass my students and then kidnap (Y/N)? Let’s cut the bullshit. What are you plotting? Why would you take (Y/N)? What could you possibly want with them? You left all of us and never looked back.”

“With them? Don’t you mean from them?” Geto says, turning to give him a small smile. “As to what I’m planning…you’ll find out soon enough.”

Gojo’s brow furrows, but he says nothing.

“It’s so cold tonight,” Geto sighs lazily, as if he hasn’t a genuine care in the world. “You know, I would welcome you inside, but you’re here earlier than expected. I don’t know if they’re ready for you, yet.”

Gojo is rendered silent for a few moments as he considers what Geto could possibly mean. Geto speaks lightly, as if he’s hinting at something amusing to himself. Obviously Geto has done something to you—but what could be possibly mean by ‘ready for him’?

Gojo doesn’t want to entertain Geto by falling for his bait, so he speaks only what he truly wants to know. “I already told you, Suguru. Cut the bullshit. Tell me what you want from them. Now.”

Geto turns to him with a sharp glare. “What am I, a dog for you to order around? Don’t you know that’s what monkeys are for?”

“Do you try to control, or should I say enslave, humans now, too?” Gojo sneers. “Sounds like you have less dignity than one of your so-called ‘monkeys’.”

“What a low blow. Enslave? No, nothing like that! I just put them out of their own miserable existence after they do some of my bidding. You know Satoru, you’re more feisty than you used to be.”

“I wonder why,” Gojo says bitterly, but tries to hold his tongue. The more he gives in to his banter, the further he is from what he came here for.

Geto doesn’t respond this time. Gojo doesn’t like the feeling he starts getting—the feeling that Geto is stalling for time. He needs more information if he can get it, but Gojo knows he doesn’t have any more time to waste—you could be in any sort of condition. He’s beginning to panic, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“What do you want from them? Why would you take them?” Gojo speaks lowly. “They don’t have anything to do with you anymore.”

When Geto remains silent, Gojo barks out, “Tell me now, Suguru! I won’t play these fucking games with you. You already crossed the line before by messing with my students. Now this? You should be careful. It’s like you want me to kill you.”

Geto laughs heartily, as if this is just a tense moment in an otherwise pleasant reunion. “Sure, Satoru. We played poker together, don’t you remember? You could never hold your pokerface. You’re still horrible at bluffing, I see.”

“Call my fucking bluff then,” Gojo spits.

“I have been, all these years. We both know why I’m still alive.” Geto says calmly.

“But you know that I won’t overlook this. I don’t know what you’re thinking, Suguru, but there’s only so much I can sweep under the rug. Especially with…with them, and you know that.”

“Oh, yes, I certainly do.” He smiles easily, eyes crinkling as if he is particularly pleased.

This unnerves Gojo even more.

Geto startles when Gojo suddenly appears mere inches from him. He’s never before witnessed his former friend with an aura this agitated and full of aggression, with cursed energy so inflamed and oppressive. Gojo seems so tall in this moment, towering over Geto even though they’re practically the same height.

Geto finally feels a sliver of doubt. Gojo has never been able to harm him, or rather, could never bring himself to. Geto has known this and has exploited this, in fact—but right now, for the first time, he can’t help but wonder if today is the day.

“What the fuck are you doing, Suguru?” Gojo asks lowly, anger bleeding in to his tone despite his efforts to stifle it.

Geto laughs. If only he knew. If only he knew that he would soon be on his knees, reality falling apart, finally succumbing to Geto’s worldview.

“I don’t think that’s the right question,” Geto shakes his head, his voice teasing—mocking. “Wouldn’t it be ‘What have I done?’”

He watches the color drain from Gojo’s face as his meaning sinks in. Something has been done to you, and it might be irreversible. You might be…you might be de—

Gojo sharply inhales as his mind goes blank with fury. His entire mind is consumed with the thought of strangling Geto. He can’t get the image of his hands around his throat, hurting him like he must have hurt you, life draining from his twisted eyes, to fade away. The fiery rage in him is triggering the euphoria he gets with a taste of violence—when he almost goes mad, addicted to his own strength and invincibility.

But…but you. What about you? What if you’re still alive?

The violence falls away, cast away by thoughts of you. All it takes is a single second of your smile, an echo of your sweet laugh, for him to singularly focus on you. If you’re alive, he needs to find you right now.

And the next time Geto blinks, he is greeted on with an icy breeze, as the figure in front of him has vanished. Geto doubles over in laughter, thinking that he has won. He will be the one to break THE Gojo Satoru, or at least shatter the weapon the jujutsu higher-ups love to use. This weapon will be at his disposal; with Gojo Satoru by his side again, the extermination of the human race will be finally be within his grasp.

That’s assuming that your heart has stopped beating. Geto, who chooses to be a fool, does not even check. Even though Nanako relayed that you were breathing a few minutes ago, his arrogance and hope to break Satoru exceed any doubt.

Gojo is also a fool, or so he thinks. He wasted so much time on Geto, who had him so easily transfixed by his vague mentions of you. He should have just searched for you from the start.

Thundering footsteps and calls of your name now echo through the house in which you reside. Finally able to focus solely on you after separating from Geto, Gojo frantically searches the house, going from room to room as fast as he can.

He hadn’t acknowledged it to Geto, but he’s been here before, that time when he had to confirm with his own eyes the extent of Geto’s crimes. It doesn’t bode well with him that Geto chose this place to house you—the place where he slaughtered dozens of people, his first step to breaking away from jujutsu society.

Gojo finds himself profusely sweating—whether it’s from fear or from sprinting through this maze of a house, he can’t tell. But after learning practically nothing from Geto except that he has done something to you, Gojo can’t keep the bubbling anxiety at bay for much longer.

The panic rises acutely in Gojo once he realizes something—he feels so blind, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, because there is no cursed energy to detect. Your distinctive energy that led him from your home until here, is nowhere to be found, as if it has been extinguished.

He can’t breathe. His chest feels tight, and he is practically wheezing as he continues to rush around the rooms, scanning them with his bare eyes since he doesn’t trust his Six-Eyes right now. It’s illogical, he knows, but maybe his eyes are broken and that’s why he can’t see your energy. He refuses to give any serious thought to the alternative—if you didn’t have any cursed energy anymore, then that would mean…

He enters the last room—this room is larger than the rest, implying its greater importance, but is practically empty. It’s one of the the most minimalist looking bedrooms Gojo has even stepped foot in. The only thing that immediately captures his attention is a neat stack of papers that sit on the desk. He instantly recognizes the scrawl on the top paper as Geto’s. It pains him that he still remembers a detail as minute as that about Suguru.

His gaze migrates to the rest of the room, namely to the bed that is nestled into the furthest corner. His heart lurches. The fact that he didn’t notice this immediately, not used to relying solely on his normal vision, isn’t good. Him not noticing someone usually means they’re not with the living.

Only steps away, there is a figure strewn out over the sheets, unmoving and looking rather ragged. Hair unkempt, lips cracked, clothes bloodied, chest still.

Chest still.

He immediately moves to you, not wasting a second as takes a place by your bedside.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whispers, as if speaking too loudly will mean that this is reality, that maybe if you don’t wake up it’ll be because he didn’t speak loudly enough. Though soft, his voice is urgent and pleading. “Please no. Please don’t be true.”

He instantly scoops you up, handling your weight easily. He cradles you close to him as if you could disappear from his arms at any moment—and maybe, if you could see yourself, you’d understand that his fears aren’t unfounded, as you truly look as if your life force could fade at any moment. He then notices a rivulet of blood running from your mouth—he tries to gently brush it away, but ends up smearing it onto both your chin and his hand. Anger fills him when he thinks what Geto must have done to reduce you to this state.

Your eyelids begin to flutter open at his touch and warmth, but Satoru still sees more of your long eyelashes than your unusually dull eyes. They will not open past halfway, no matter how hard you try. In your disoriented state, you don’t notice Gojo’s sigh of relief, or how his grip on you tightens as if to remind himself that you’re here, you’re alive and breathing, you’re safe in his arms.

Through the spots in your eyes, you see a halo of white and two luminescent blue eyes. As your vision clears, you admire the light filtering through his translucent hair, which makes him appear angelic. Of course, he is as beautiful as the last time you saw him.

“Satoru? ‘S that you?” You manage to ask, and you sound raspier than a chronic smoker, much to your displeasure. You cringe internally, knowing how awful you must look and sound right now. You know it doesn’t matter how disheveled you look when you’re on the brink of death—and yet you can’t help but worry about it while you’re in his presence.

“You’re so cold,” Is his softly spoken answer. “God, I really thought– I thought that—”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds despaired. But that can’t be right—there’s no way he still cares about you. Not after his cold and harsh behavior towards you, not after he got together with Utahime—he can’t care. Or at least, not how you want to be cared by him.

After a few moments of silence, it’s evident that Gojo doesn’t intend to finish his sentence. Even in your hazy state of mind, you can guess what he was going to say. You do look awful, probably even worse than the last time you had a chance to look in the mirror.

“I think you’re just warm,” You tease weakly, with a smile full of too much amusement when considering the situation, when considering your condition. Now you’re playing Gojo’s role: joking when you should be serious.

It hurts Gojo to see the gentleness in your smile, gentleness and goodness that reveal how truly soft-hearted you are. Your natural softness after what you’ve been through—it angers him.

“No, I can’t be. It’s snowing outside,” He says, growing more upset with each sentence. “But you’re– you’re even colder than that. Your skin is—it’s like ice. You’re making me fucking worried!”

You blink rapidly, startled by his show of strong emotion but even more surprised by the glimmer of near tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You say quietly, although neither you nor him know what exactly you’re apologizing for.

“That’s not what I meant,” He says, sighing, pulling you tighter to him. “I’m just…I was worried before I came, but now I’m really scared for you.”

“You are? You have been?” You blurt out automatically and mindlessly, eyes wide open now. You look so surprised that Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little, though it pains him that you don’t seem to believe him.

Heat rises to your face and you squirm a bit in his arms, now suddenly aware of your closeness, of all his skin touching yours. He quells your movement with a brush of his hand on your arm, encouraging you to stay still.

“You shouldn’t move too much. You really don’t look too good, angel,” He says, voice tight and threatening to break. “What did he do to you?”

Hah. You must look so disgusting and beat up that he assumes Geto hurt you. You smile weakly to yourself, wondering what he would think if you said you had looked like this for days.

“He didn’t,” You simply say, not seeming to have any intention to clarify. “This is how he found me. How could something like this happen overnight?”

You’re astounded by your own honesty. It’s always been difficult to be completely transparent for you, especially to Satoru—always trying to brush things off, make excuses for people, diminish your own pain in order not to bother or worry others.

Your words cut deep through Gojo and instantly take his breath away.

How could something like this happen overnight?

He hasn’t seen you since the day he rudely brushed you off, and it has been weeks since then. In the months before that dreadful interaction, he had only seen you one-on-one a handful of times. He knows you didn’t mean anything by your words, but he can’t help but feel guilt and karma very sharply. He deserves this after ignoring you for so long, even if he thought it was for the best.

You begin to cough, and it’s a horrible grating noise. It’s a miracle this didn’t happen sooner, although you wish that Gojo wouldn’t see this at all.

“You should go,” You croak out between coughs. “Leave me here, get away from Geto. It’s…it’s too late for me. Leave me.”

Gojo lightly rolls his eyes, partly in frustration by your melodramatic reaction and partly at himself because he has made you believe that he would just leave you there.

“As if,” He says almost playfully, gaining back some of his personality now that he has processed that you’re alive. “What are you saying? If I leave, I’m leaving with you. Just gimme a second to call Shoko, she’ll get everything prepared as always, she’ll be annoyed but she always has a soft spot for you—”

“No,” You interrupt Gojo, your voice firmer than he’s heard from you in a long time. “I told you, there’s no saving me.”

The dread sets in. Why are you so insistent on that?

He opens his mouth, about to say something, but doesn’t manage get the words out before the room is filled with rough coughing. You cough until all the air escapes from your lungs—and then you’re wheezing and choking on nothing.

“You okay? Tell me what’s going on,” He asks in an even tone, but he is anything but calm, especially when you are thrown into another coughing fit. “Angel? It’s okay, just breathe.”

Gojo places you back onto the bed, elevates your back so you’re in a sitting position, and begins to pat on your back in the hopes that it’ll help regulate your breathing. What he doesn’t realize, though, is that you’re not just having a panic attack. Something is actually lodged in your airways.

You begin to choke and gag. Satoru’s eyes are wide when he realizes that something is wrong, something is horribly wrong. He pats your back harder, the force beginning to push your body forward.

“Well, it’s finally started, has it? A little late, but no matter.”

Gojo’s head whips to the door so fast it almost gives him whiplash. He has been so focused on you that he didn’t even sense Geto’s sudden presence. He rests on the doorframe, watching with interest sparkling in his eyes.

“What’s going on here?” Gojo asks, accusatory, but is so scared to hear the answer that he almost wishes neither respond.

“Just watch and you’ll understand,” Geto says knowingly, easily. Everything is unfolding as it should, he’s glad to see.

Geto looks to Gojo smugly, wanting to see the fear swimming in his uncovered eyes, but is completely caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Adrenaline quickly courses through Geto’s veins, the type that spiderwebs through your tingling palms and traces icy fingers down your spine, for the first time in years. The true fight-or-flight feeling, reminiscent of when he first fought a high-level curse. But now it’s from Gojo’s hardened blue eyes boring into his own, penetrating down to his very soul, like a god passing divine judgment.

Your hacking interrupts the tense face off. Gojo is the one who looks away, but Geto does not feel as if he is backing down. He is ashamed to admit that he feels waves of relief once Gojo tends to you again. Unsettled, Geto takes a few steps away from the doorframe, retreating into the hallway away from Gojo’s scrutinizing gaze.

You don’t notice it, but of course you can’t in your state. At least, not when you feel it coming.

The thorns and stiff branches begin to scratch your throat. The numerous petals suffocate you and are slow to rise as they are heavy with blood. You grip Satoru’s wrist tightly to get his attention.

“Go,” You manage wheeze out. “Leave. Don’t want you to…see.”

He looks at you with so much horror in his eyes, looking even more scared than you feel. You can visually see the gears turning in his head, connecting the dots. Your weakness, your coughing, the blood from your mouth, the fact that this ‘couldn’t happen overnight’—

A blue petal escapes from your lips. It spins through the air, right before Gojo’s eyes, confirming his worst fears.

This must be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Maybe he hallucinated the petal. Maybe you can still be saved, even though your coughing keeps getting worse and worse.

But then there’s something he can’t deny out of existence. As he rubs your back, helping you through your coughing and gagging, you cough up what he feared most. His heart rate skyrockets as he lays eyes on what you coughed up. A flower.

A flower the color of his eyes, the beauty of it corrupted by your blood that drenches it. A flower that’s meant for him. A flower that means you love him and that you don’t believe he loves you back.

Pain shoots through him, spikes working under his chest. He brought this on you. He thought he was protecting you, but instead he has been slowly killing you from the inside.

“No…” He whispers, unbelieving.

For some reason, you smile. Just a tiny quirk of your lips and the crinkling of your eyes as you look up at him. It’s a real smile, one he hasn’t seen in so long. And it hits him: one he might never see again, if he doesn’t fix this.

“No!” Gojo gasps out, not wanting to believe his eyes. “No, angel, no. Not this. This– this can’t be real. Why? Why did this happen to you?”

It’s cruel, but he knows very well why. He vied for your affection for years and years and has loved you for just about as long. And yet you are the one cursed to this fate, due to his denial erroneously leading him to Utahime and the suppression of his feelings leaving him to heartlessly ignore you.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, shame flickering through them. You didn’t want him to find out.

“‘Can’t help it,” You say weakly. “Not when it comes to you. Always sort of knew, but I figured it out recently. By then, though, you were…gone.”

He shakes his head frantically, words coming out in a jumble as he desperately tries to explain. “I just wanted to protect you. The higher-ups were after you—I thought I had to let go of you. I-I never thought this would happen. I never knew that you…”

“It’s okay, Satoru. I understand,” You say, holding back tears. “I’ve accepted it. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. You have…you have her and that’s enough for me.”

You smile again. So bright, so genuine, and yet so painful.

“No! I…”

He wants to vehemently deny it, but the words get stuck in his throat. For years he has swallowed his feelings and never truly allowed himself to feel or speak them. The deepest feelings in his heart have never risen to the surface to be shared; they have always pooled deep in his soul, away from prying eyes and hearts.

But now they are so close to be verbally admitted that they are in his throat, choking him. He looks into your eyes and is overwhelmed by the waves of emotion that crash over him; it’s uncomfortable and even painful.

He has always shoved down his emotion for you. Any time he has ever shown his true feelings, about you aside, is when you eased it out of him. He has never divulged any real emotion on his own.

Despite his natural instincts screaming at him to keep it inside, despite the knot in his throat choking him, this time, he lets himself be overwhelmed.

“I love you. I always have,” He speaks, voice trembling with emotion. “Even when I didn’t know it yet. (Y/N), I’ve always liked you. I used to try so hard for you during school, always trying to get your attention. Remember how I never left you alone? You’d get so annoyed at me. Shoko and Geto said I was so obvious…”

Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop.

“I know I’ve fucked up recently, but it’s not…it’s not because I don’t have feelings for you. They’ve never once faded, even when I tried to ignore them. I tried with Utahime because I couldn’t get you out of my head, even though I needed to. The higher-ups have been targeting you, and I thought it was because of me, so I had to prove to them that you weren’t close to me. I even went out with Utahime, who hated my guts, but that…didn’t work out. It wasn’t fair to her—she herself realized how in love with you I am.”

He looks at you with an emotion you can’t place—it fills you with warmth and brings tears to your eyes. You sniffle a little, wondering if this is a cruel trick because this just cannot be real. There is no way in the world that Gojo Satoru went to look for you after months of radio silence. There is no way that he is here, right now, admitting feelings you never once suspected.

A sob wracks your body, even though you try your hardest to keep it in. You cover your face with your hands when you can’t stop yourself from the absolute meltdown that ensues, trying to preserve your dignity. He can’t love you, he just can’t.

“Don’t do that,” He says softly, gently easing your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to hide from me. God, I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

He leans in close, wanting to embrace you but not knowing if he even deserves to hold you. You sense his hesitance when he comes near you, and you think that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. His hand slowly comes to your face to caress your cheek, to wipe away your pathetic tears, and you are shocked at the drops that fall on your skin from above.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He chuckles weakly, tears freely falling, his words an echo of your own mind. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but please…please try. I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”

And you do try. You do, but you feel so tired and weak. Your vision is starting to go out of focus and your ears are ringing. Your body is telling you that it will soon give up. Your body is ready to give up, but you aren’t.

You lock eyes with him as best as you can, your heart skipping from the prolonged eye contact. If only you could have always been able to look into his eyes like this.

“Satoru, I think it’s pretty obvious by now, but…no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving you. Not even if it kills me…” You smile sadly. “And I think it might.”

“But I love you!” He cries, and it comes out as a plea. Tears stream down his face. “I don’t understand, I love you, (Y/N)! Is it– is it someone else? It’s okay if it is, I’ll take you to them and—”

You laugh, causing blood to dribble down your chin. “Even after all that studying, you can’t think. I already said it, but should I say it again? I love you, Satoru.”

“Then why? It was just one flower. You should- you should be fine. Please be fine.”

“The flower,” You explain hoarsely. “That wasn’t the first one. I’ve already coughed up a lot of them. Too many. I think my fate has been sealed for a while. I’m sorry, Satoru. I’m a fool. I finally learn that you love me, and I’m like this.”

He’s frozen for a moment, everything sinking in. Your life is no longer suspended in his hands, but rather in death’s treacherous grasp. There is no telling how long you have left.

In the next moment, he quickly gathers you in his arms, scooping you up effortlessly from the bed.

“You’re not dying on me,” He says, trying to assume his regular calm. “I won’t let you. We’ll figure this out, o-okay? Please angel, just fight it a bit more for me. We’ll leave right now, I’m sure Shoko can handle this.”

You nod, seeing through his false calm. “Satoru…I want you to know that even if I d—”

He shakes his head resolutely. “Tell me when you’re all better, okay? Promise me.”

Time feels suspended when you look into his eyes again, all of your emotions showing through them as if this is the last time you’ll ever see each again in this world.

You never get to promise him. Instead, Geto’s loud and commanding voice startles the two of you. “You’re not leaving with them.”

“Like hell I’m not,” Gojo snarls. “Like you can stop me.”

He closes his eyes, mentally easing into his large store of cursed energy, and prepares himself to make the familiar teleportation route to Tokyo Tech. But something’s different this time—his eyes fly open, pupils blowing wide, when he hits a block he never has before.

“You can’t teleport once you’re inside this barrier,” Geto explains calmly, voice as smooth and slow as molasses. “Thought you might pull something like this.”

You’re glad you didn’t promise him. Your ears ring again, and you feel so dizzy that you can’t keep your eyes from closing, even though you hear him begging you to keep them open.

The conversation between Geto and Gojo is lost on you with your fading hearing. You only hear their vague intonations and cadences, shouting and cursing. And then you’re being jostled wildly. Gojo is running with you in his arms, making a break for the edge of the barrier—that much you can surmise by the loud thumps and his erratic breathing.

You’re fading fast. You mumble out his name, giving everything you have just to open your eyes.

He’s so beautiful. The moonlight catches in his silver hair and reflects through his blue eyes you’ve always loved so much. You gaze into them as if they were pools you could dive into, endless depths of his soul. You wish you could spend more time looking at his eyes, just like this.

You hear his voice you could listen to for hours. He usually has a sly, silver tongue, but not today. It is weak and wavers. It bares the true feelings of the strongest today. “Don’t you dare die on me, angel!”

You wish you could promise him that, but your eyes close without your permission.

part iv

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedtodark-blog @soapysofi @sadmonke @shartnart1 @dummyf @adoraspace @allie-jay @notgoodforlife @spin-garden @astrokatsuki @reiluvr @kinny-away @turtl3-warr1or

a/n: not Geto listening to the confession like 🧍‍♂️

ahhh I’m so sorry it took this long!!! Thank you for your patience! basically I had a pretty long draft written out and it yeeted itself out of this world (😭😭😭 legit have no idea what happened to it) and was really frustrated by that, so I didn’t return to this for a long while…Anyway, I’m glad to be back!!

There will be another part! Sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger/ambiguous ending. 😳

Btw I’m really sorry to all Geto lovers out there, I feel like I always do Geto dirty and write him as some evil unfeeling man 💀💀 but I swear I don’t actually hate his character and I think he’s a lot more complex than I write him…🥴

Thank you for reading! 💙🩵

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo hurt/comfort #hanahaki #jjk #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you

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demon-country · 26 days ago

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"Stolas is a worse dad than Blitz, because when Stolas was about to die he chose Loona over him."

The situations were completely different, you can't actually compare them in that way.

1) In Western Energy, Blitz was going to go save Stolas, but was able to send Moxxie and Millie instead, freeing him up to stay with Loona.

In Mastermind, Blitz was in imminent danger. As in, by the time Stolas saw what was happening there was only about a minute until Blitz was going to be decapitated. There was no one to send in his place and no one else could've gotten there in time even if there was.

2) Loona had a hospital appointment she couldn't go to on her own due to her extreme phobia of needles, and it would have been years before she could get it again if she missed it (unless Stolas pulled some strings).

Octavia was not in danger and had no pressing need for Stolas to be by her side. He was also implied to have set things up so that, should he die before she's legally an adult, she'd still be well off and protected to the best of his abilities. She'd be heartbroken, yes, but her assets and future would be secure. (It's no substitute for a loving parent, of course, but it'd allow her some freedom to do as she pleased, like not being forced to marry someone against her will.)

3) Fighting Striker wouldn't be, and wasn't, a sure death sentence. He's good at what he does, but he's just one guy who can be fought.

Stolas didn't have the time or knowledge to come up with a good defense, and even if he did the court wouldn't have cared, because they were bored, hungry, and don't care enough about imps, due process, or doling out real justice to be bothered listening to a nerdy bird attempt to be a lawyer for some uppity imp trying to rise above his station. Putting all of the blame on himself and making a big, flashy production about how he's some cunning manipulator who thinks he's above the law and Blitz is just a worthless pawn to force them to pay attention to him was his only real option if he wanted Blitz to make it out alive.

And even if Stolas did let Blitz die, then he undoubtedly would have spiraled into an even deeper depression, riddled with guilt, grief, and self-loathing. Because that's what happens when you have precarious mental health and watch the love of your life be executed, knowing you could maybe have done something to stop it, but didn't even try. Which, you know, also would have hurt Octavia, because it's not easy seeing your parent in that state. Neither choice would have spared Octavia the pain of losing her father, at least temporarily, and people would still be calling him a bad dad for letting his mental illness affect his relationship with her.

Also, did people not see the way Blitz was begging Stolas not to take the fall for him? He absolutely would have re-taken his place on the chopping block if it meant Stolas didn't have to die. Then Loona would be down her only parent, with Blitz actively choosing Stolas first, because Stolas was seemingly about to die and M&M had already promised to take care of her. You know, exactly like Stolas in this episode.

Blitz would have been in the same sinking mental health boat if Stolas died, as well, except he did try to save him (or more accurately, get him to save himself) it was just entirely fruitless. The man nearly ran his company into the ground because they broke up, he'd fall completely apart if another person he loves died "because of" him (in his eyes), this time without even knowing that Blitz loves him.

When push came to shove, when someone they love was about to die right in front of them and they felt secure with the knowledge that their child would be okay without them (eventually), they both attempted to sacrifice themselves instead. And they both would have been inconsolable wrecks if the other had actually died. There were no good options, they were just trying to make it so that everyone they loved made it out alive, even though putting themselves in the line of fire was the only realistic way of doing that.

#helluva boss #stolas goetia #blitzo #octavia goetia #loona #text post #meta #my post #long post

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ravewing · 3 months ago

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dr. gray matter and ex–princess amygdala (lore + extra doodles under the cut!)

alternative backgrounds cuz i cant decide on which one i like the most .. idk if im gonna work them into terror of talons or save them for the sequel (probably the latter)

amygdala is ex-princess greatness' direct descendant (i dont know how many generations that is .. amygdala hatched in the early 5180s, if someone could figure that out for me, thatd be great) and unlike the majority of nightwings, she is very unhappy with the council of moons ruling the tribe rather than a traditional queen, and believes herself to be the rightful heir to the nightwing throne.

if youre not aware of the terror of talons lore, the nightwings essentially seceded from the rainwings with the treaty of the banyan tree in 5083, and since then, the tribe has been ruled by the council of moons– a group of three to five councilors (currently the councilors are duskweaver, a mindreader; paradox, who is a thrice-moonborn nightwing; and morrowsong, a seer. hereafter, a blood moon nightwing, might as well be a councilor, but shes not officially in the system or anything). pretty much all the nightwings are content with the council– they rule very fairly, the tribe has much more of a voice in their actions, they actually solve issues... but amygdala would much rather see only one throne at the head of the tribe– and with her sitting on it.

shes also very salty about not being a moonborn nightwing. nine times out of ten, councilors have to be moonborn, too, so she holds a sort of grudge towards nightwings fortunate enough to have the abilities granted by (on in her eyes, cursed by) the full moons. over the years shes grown to see herself as superior by being a 'natural' nightwing.

funnily enough, her birth name was moonkeeper. she changed it to amygdala when she was around five or six, once she had a set idea as to the path she wanted to take.

oh– she doesn't believe in the whole different paths of the future thing that powerful seers tell the tribe. amygdala thinks that there is one future that is set in stone, and that in said timeline, she will rule the tribe that is rightfully hers.

the sapphire on her crown might look familiar... that isn't a coincidence ;)

dr. gray matter is amygdala's dragonethood best friend. they grew up together and have a very close, sibling–esque bond. he is highly intelligent in terms of mathematics, the sciences, and the natural world.. however, aside from amygdala, he holds no regard, concern, nor sympathy for any other dragon.

he graduated from the most prestigious school in the nightwing tribe, but now he works with amygdala and does her dirty work for her. he likes to dissect things and play with chemicals in his free time. currently, he's desperate to figure out the mechanics behind animus magic, the limits to its abilities.. that sort of stuff. so far, he's only been able to examine enchanted objects... but he's heard tales of an animus sandwing roaming pyrrhia somewhere.

i haven't decided where his scar came from yet.. ill have to ponder more.

together, theyve formed what theyre calling the astral reclamation (maybe celestial instead of astral?), and amygdala has begun calling herself the 'sovereign of the stars' (so 'queen amygdala, sovereign of the stars, queen of the nightwing tribe' would be her full title. doesnt that sound so awesome ??????). they currently have a small following, but as time passes, it grows larger and more powerful...

anyhow, i love these two very dearly, and i hope to do more with them soon! and yes, i know, amygdala is very red .. once i finalize her design, her scales will probably be a little darker, because i feel like she looks too skywing right now.

#wof #wings of fire #wof oc #wof au #terror of talons #wof art #wings of fire art #rave art #rave rambles #amygdala wof #gray matter wof #nightwing

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pigeonpeach · 11 months ago

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Arranged marriage

Aka yanderes who manipulated circumstances to make you theirs

Character: Jean, Diluc, Pantalone

Cw: murder

Jean Gunnhildr, the Acting Grand Master. Jean Gunnhilr, the dandelion knight, Jean Gunnhildr, a murderer and your future spouse. You do not hate her, it is hard to do so. She is thoughtful and sweet, a friend of yours as you two were both upper-class daughters of traditional nutjobs whose traditions remain rigid. But Jean’s mother was better than yours.

Your mother had been eager to marry you off, your family owned a variety of homes and apartment complexes in Mondstadt, there isn't much skill to learn when it comes to managing properties; Just mark the list of who’s paid, send someone to collect payment or to pester the tenants. You were the only child, so there were no issues with who this would go to. You were well-liked and generally regarded as a beautiful and sweet woman. What did you do to attract the attention of some old and ragged man from Fontaine then? You had no clue why anyone didn’t see a 50+-year-old man who had 3 brides fall ill or die suddenly wasn’t suspicious for seeking another young bride with properties. Jean did however, she’s the one who told you so of the investigation she privately conducted. The second she heard of him she hated him, you hadn’t even mentioned his age when she scowled. The words “arranged marriage” seemed to already irritate her. But your family threatened to disown you if you rejected it, what would you do then?

Murder that's what. Jean swore to you she’d get you out of this situation. It felt cliche almost, the childhood friend saving the damsel from the marriage to a grumpy old man. You expected her to talk to your parents or dissuade them in some way. She had the evidence to do so, yet she chose murder. Your suitor was slain mysteriously while on a walk outside of Mondstadt. The knight concluded it was treasure hoarders, his fancy and expensive attires were stolen. But you knew from the look in Jean’s eyes that she had some part in it. She refused to tell you how it happened outside the version everyone in Mondstadt knows, but you know better. She quickly offered to marry you instead. Your parents seemed complacent now. You never knew quite what she did but you hadn’t expected it to unfold like this. She did a good job framing it as well, investigators from Fontaine came and came to the same conclusion. An eye would be kept on pawn shops or second-hand stores.

But maybe it isn’t so bad? You are married to your best friend and Jean is nothing but a devoted and perfect wife. She is loyal to you, kind to you, protective of you, and deeply in love with you. You don’t mind, she is a good wife and you have no reason to complain. You just wish she didn’t act like you couldn’t tell she had done it. Other than that, you are sticking by her side closely, to keep her hands clean of any new blood.

You didn’t know Diluc Ragvindr that well prior. You were set to marry someone else, not the worst situation. Your suitor was a decent man, you could see yourself living a quiet life with him. You weren’t infatuated or attached to him but you accepted him as your future husband. Until he just died one day. A mysterious death, possibly from an assassin? In his absence, Diluc emerged from seemingly nowhere to offer his hand to you. You weren’t skeptical then, you had met him at balls and events when you were kids. He caused mischief and you found that charming then. Nowadays he’s completely different, however, a well-put-together gentleman who was admired and almost worshiped in Mondstadt. You were a bit worried about his safety but he assured you he’d be fine. And he was, he promised you’d live a quiet and peaceful life. He was a bit off-putting for a husband, however. He seemed both reserved but also eager for your affection. You were happy to marry a wealthier man yes but also concerned about what happened to your previous suitor.

As a husband, Diluc is a very good one. You are comfortable and at ease with him yes. He is also an affectionate husband, a passionate love that had been hidden underneath a stoic mask. You were pleased, reciprocal with his advances, and even eager at times. You couldn’t help it, he’s a handsome and well-built man after all. You were happy.

While looking for a pen in his office you noticed a pin that unmistakably was from your deceased suitor. You could’ve turned him in sure but… you didn’t want to ruin things now. Your suitor wasn’t nearly as influential compared to Diluc, not as passionate or fiery as him. Diluc was extremely loyal to you. He’s known in Mondstadt for being a devoted husband, proudly displaying his ring at any hint of advances from some lowkey home wrecker. You had no say in either arrangement, but with him, you do now. Your family cannot push you around for you now belong to his clan and not theirs. He will not entertain any disrespect to you at all. You have more agency than you were used to here. Adelinde is fine with skipping corsets or preparing dishes that are more delicious than healthy. You love your new life here.. So what if you don’t tell the family the truth? Would you be divorced then? Returned to your more mundane life as just a bachelorette?

Maybe you’re guilty of knowingly hugging and kissing the man who murdered someone, but maybe that's also rather endearing. Every lady dreams of a devoted man like this… so what if he’s a murderer?

Pantalone was no less terrifying than being tossed off a cliff. You were shy, hardly outgoing. At parties, you clung to the wall and only chatted with friends. You found any excuse to hide yourself or dismiss yourself despite the dismay of your parents. You just HATE having so many eyes on you. You still do.

How you attract an actual harbinger is beyond you. But you had passed your parent’s office when you heard him talking to them. You didn’t know it was him then, you thought they had simply ticked off a business partner. Never had your father sounded so obedient or fearful to you. You didn’t stick around then.

Suddenly the arrangement had been tossed onto you with little preparation otherwise. You weren’t happy, you asked more questions than your parents liked. To your surprise they didn’t seem angry, for the first time, rather than yelling at you to obey, your father looked you in the eye and with a calm voice told you to go along with it. Fear in his eyes, and a stutter. Nothing like the man you had come to know. You just shut up after that. Nodding or shaking your head during the preparations. What was worse to you was probably that you didn’t even get to see Pantalone for a while. Your maids just told you he was handsome. When you met him for the first time, you felt like you were about to die. He seemed amused with your nervous nature and awkwardness. You wondered if you were a human marrying a human or a mouse handed to a cat. He delighted in hearing you stammer and shiver. He was bold as well, often he had at least a hand on you, your shoulder or waist were his preferences. He enjoyed your fear and obedience.

Your best days as his wife were in his absence. You had gotten used to him, yes, but he seemed delighted in how you were so nervous. His favorite thing to do was have you sit on his lap and then focus on his work. You were timid so this was quite nerve-wracking. Especially because you weren’t sure what to expect, what did he want you to do? But once you got used to just doing nothing and became more comfortable, he’d suddenly start to nibble at your neck. He always chuckled at your reactions.

He was a loving husband though, just maybe not the normal kind. He seemed obsessed with you at times, his hands mapping your body as though it were some sculpture. He was possessive, if you seemed to grow too fond of employees or guards, they’d be switched or ‘disposed of’. Your only company and ‘friend’ would be him. The mansion acts as a prison, and he is your only visitor and cellmate. You would prefer the cliff to his hand

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #diluc x you #jean gunnhildr x reader #pantalone x you #yandere themed #fem reader #short

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kiliinstinct · 2 years ago

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Chapter 20:

Rating: T Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3

[Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] - Next Update: AUGUST 1ST

Beta: @phoenix-before-the-flame

Yes you read the next update Date correctly. After this chapter, I’m taking a mini break to work on some other things before Chapter 21 Drops. So look forward to ‘The Stone Prince’ and ‘The Colosseum’ getting updated in the near future! Hope you enjoy!

---

The first day of dances left Lucy exhausted.

She didn’t join in, but keenly observed the steps; the connection between others while enjoying the festive atmosphere that stayed strong into the night. The high energy was a treat, but it drained her, leaving her body to pass out the moment her head hit the furs of her bed that night and the ones that followed after.

The revelation that Natsu knew how to dance despite his constant denial claiming ‘Fire Dancing’ to be a different thing, alongside solving the mystery behind his aversion to her filled Lucy’s mind until the scenes repeated each time her eyes closed. After his opening dance, he’d joined her in the crowd for a break and the following, awkward silence nearly took precedence over the courting dance. It was the first of the week with many to come. Cana explained that some couples waited for the final day, while others shared a dance each night. It wasn’t as much of a spectacle as Lucy had been led to believe. The music was nice- light and airy following the heavy rhythms of the fire dance before it, moderate in speed and those who danced followed no set steps. Not a single person danced the same as the other -though a few couples attempted to match with varying results. It was fun and exhilarating to observe. But Lucy firmly watched from the side, clutching her cane too tight and twisting her fingers in her skirt, denying the want to join in. She realized it wasn’t the courting dance she yearned for, but to join any of them … the thought called to her. A sweet temptation that she stubbornly ignored. She could imagine herself roped into a dance by one of her friends, slow and clumsy, but following along to the beat, messing up the steps on the shifting sands, laughing along with the others. But Insecurity held her back while she glared ruefully at her throbbing leg. She’d ignored it to hug Natsu that first day; paying no mind to the fatigue settling in her bones or her draining stamina, but once it was over and they stood side by side, the soreness crept through her nerves like a burning illness. The returning walk home was a blur, save for the occasional, hesitant hand, steadying her. Deep sleep was a commodity, with no strange dreams following suit for once.

Natsu had come to meet her each morning after that, a smile brimming wide as he slung an arm over her shoulder. Lucy limped out the door with far less energy than the man before her. She was sore from the previous days, unused to the constant walking on sand for the festivities, but the heat of his arm around her was as relaxing as it was jarring. As if her leaping hug from the fire dance had broken down an invisible wall. The Draconis had reverted back to usual antics. His attention drew to the garlands on her door, eyeing each one curiously. Mirajane’s garland was left behind, resting atop the table, but Natsu’s gaze was drawn upward. “Ready to get into some dances today?” Natsu's attention returned to Lucy, ushering her down the road that was already full of people milling about. He exuded excitement as though it were part of his very magic. “Ooh, maybe you can do the Maypole with the kids? That’s a slower one. Just gotta watch your head with the ribbons since they're shorter than ya’. Ooor, there’s also a couple of others before my fire dance that ain't too crazy-”

He’d become talkative since the first day and Lucy, unfortunately, zoned out through most of it, focusing on the tension in her muscles and the way each step sent a shock up her spine. She considered sleeping in, allowing her body time to adjust, but inevitably decided against it. Lucy didn’t wish to miss a second of the Festival. A need deep inside her heart begged to experience every fleeting moment. Even if she had to begrudgingly watch rather than join. “I mean, you could even do the dumb courting dance thing if you really wanted- “ Natsu was still talking, dragging Lucy back to reality with a lurch in her throat at the thought of participating in that one. Scrunching her nose, she gazed at him through her cringe.

“I know I’ve been here for a full season,” She began, wondering where his mind was going to assume she’d join in that dance out of all of them, “but I don’t think I know anyone well enough to consider courting.”

Natsu’s honest surprise took Lucy off-guard. As if he’d never considered the length of time being a factor in anything. “Eh? So? I’ve seen some do it before ever knowing a person properly. They spent the rest of the year getting to know each other.”

“And what about the following year?” She pressed, eyebrow raised, “Did they dance again?” “... some of them did.” He hedged, looking confused. “You looked like you wanted to join in yesterday, is all.” “I thought the dance looked fun, that doesn’t mean I want to be courted!” She snapped, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed. The dance was enjoyable to watch, from what she remembered. While none of the couples followed a particular style and each dance was different from the next, Lucy recalled the flushed expressions on each couples face: the sheer thrill of being together with an intended partner. Clearing her throat, she peered at Natsu, curious. “What of you then? Do you want to dance with someone?”

He recoiled from her, eyes wide at the thought. “Eh? No way!” He looked horrified. “I find that sorta thing weird. Why announce it like that when you can just tell it to someone straight?”

Lucy couldn’t bring herself to respond, mystified. Shrugging, he took her silence in stride and pulled her back to the gaming stalls. He was adamant they enjoy the side games to make up for their previous argument. Lucy assured him that it wasn’t necessary, but he remained unconvinced, having already made up his mind.

After three rounds of target shooting, he tugged her off to eat, gifting her a pastry covered in sweet powder while he inhaled one of his own and more. Then they were off again, finding more games for Lucy to attempt. There were so many, Lucy could hardly keep track of them, but with each new source of entertainment, the more she forgot her fatigue.

Natsu was onto something when he mentioned joining the children’s dance. The steps were simple, something Lucy felt she could do with minimal effort and take a break in between. When they stopped to watch a few, she considered it, but her feet stayed firmly planted in the ground, still as a statue. She watched Natsu join with bursts of flame, causing the children to shriek in delight but even his own form of ‘dance’ was reserved, held back from its usual heat and passion. If fire wasn’t the main attraction, he wasn’t interested.

When he said as much, Lucy bit back a giggle, hiding her amused grin behind slim fingers. Natsu mirrored her with his own and all tension from the previous days was long forgotten. It was hard to believe any was there in the first place.

For one, fleeting moment, Lucy spied Erza and Freed over his shoulder and through the crowd, snapping at each other, expressions grim from exhaustion as they strolled back to the old walls surrounding them. It was a curious thing that made her wonder, but before she could bring it to Natsu’s attention, Gray and Cana burst through the throng to drag her and Natsu back to one of the many gaming stalls they’d enjoyed earlier.

Apparently, Lucy noted, everyone was a whirlwind of energy when they wanted to be and Gray made his intentions clear when they made it to the target-shooting stall. Lucy realized she and Natsu hadn’t returned to it since the first day, flushing at the memory. “Bet I can hit more bullseyes than you, Natsu.” Gray challenged, deftly spinning a slingshot between his fingers with ease. He ignored the way Natsu bristled in response. Cana clucked her tongue, arms swung over his and Lucy’s shoulders, a knowing smirk resting on her lips. “And I’m betting they’ll both hit the exact same amount, then bicker about it for the rest of the day like a pair of dumb kids. So we’re gonna find out. If I’m right, Gray owes me booze.”

“How can I owe you anything? We don’t charge money here.” “I get your portion, duh.”

Gray snorted, but gave no reply. The challenge was on and Lucy could hardly get a word in while the two Roma’s moved into position while Natsu gathered up his own slingshot. Lucy grew too absorbed in the competition to think of much else after that, forgetting the curious, grim expressions of Erza and Freed from before.

Near the entrance of the old prison, Freed heaved for breath. He sucked in oxygen as though he were drowning and cleared his throat. The effort to do so almost sent him into a coughing fit, burning at his already raw throat. He'd rushed through the village crowds with a wildness unbefitting of him in order to find one red headed Romni. It took more from him than he anticipated. Green hair cascaded down his shoulders in a matted mess and stuck to his sweaty, heated skin, resembling a bird’s nest. With the sweat dripping down his brows , his fingers shook to wipe it.

They didn’t shake from whatever ailed him, no -

-But at the mere thought that he was possibly failing. And putting them all in danger.

“What is this about Freed?” Erza asked, voice controlled by a thin layer of concern. Excited was an understatement for her newest high score at her third game of the afternoon, but being tugged away from the festivities put a damper on that. If not for Freed’s inability to parse full sentences together in his haste, she may have ignored his unusual insistence she join him by the cells.

She crossed her arms, looking him over, “If I recall, you were supposed to be on watch today, while I got the day off. What seems to be the issue?”

“I couldn’t find Laxus,” He rasped, voice dragging and falling off as he sucked in more air. Every second it took to breathe pained him and he clenched the fabric of his shirt in earnest. “I know he was supposed to be watching the outskirts, but-”

She raised a hand, urging him to catch his breath once more. “So I was closer: understood. Catch your breath and then get to the point. Quickly please.”

For him to be this frantic… Erza’s expression darkened as she looked back towards the entry doors further up the path. “Our prisoner. He's not-?”

The enchanter shook his head and slipped slowly to the ground, seating himself before his own legs could give out. "He is still inside, rest assured, but- .. something is …” A pause as he clenched his eyes shut as dizziness nearly overtook him, body visibly twitching, “My magic, it’s…”

She moved to join him, a worried hand braced his back as she examined his pallid cheeks. He looked worse for wear, so much so that the thought of festivities no longer pulled her interest. His sunken cheeks and wheezing lungs filled her with concern; Her fears rose the longer she stared into his near manic eyes, waiting for a response he struggled to give. “Freed?”

“It’s gone.” He choked, hurriedly sucking in another breath. He gripped her wrist tightly with trembling fingers turned near white. “I don’t know how long my barrier has left, but I can’t watch him, not anymore. I’m-... I’m sorry!”

Erza felt her stomach lurch, as if being punched, eyes widened as she moved to ease him against the outer wall. Once secured, she brushed the hair from his eyes and glanced around hurriedly, hoping by some chance for a sign of anyone nearby. Cursing when she saw none, she made a quick decision.

Someone had to watch the cell. The command she gave made Freed stiffen in place, tired eyes filling with shock and despair. “Stay here. I’ll handle it. Once you’re able to move or if someone comes by, find a way to get Makarov or Laxus.” When he nodded his assent, she rushed to the fort’s doors, swinging them open with enough force to make the hinges screech. She spared one last glance at the sickly man. “Freed. Don’t push yourself until you’re certain you can move. Losing magic is fatal. Do not overdo it. That's an order."

She didn’t spare the time to see him agree, dashing through the stone halls, she rushed to make it to the cells. If his barrier failed before she got there…

‘What damage could he do once he could access his magic?’ She didn’t want to find out.

Something was off.

Like buzzing in the back of her head. A quiet warning, but no direction could be discerned. Lucy felt it ooze over her thoughts, hooking tiny tendrils of doubt and uncertainty in the back of her mind only to stubbornly be cast aside.

Everywhere around her, faces were smiling. Laughter and music weaved in the air, one barely recognized from the other as the people enjoyed themselves, raucous, loud and free. The next courting dances were to start soon while Natsu and Gray's loud competition threatened to overtake the crowd, having tied in their competition, just as predicted. The day was too perfect, too entertaining, a stark difference from the tension that burned the edges of the first day. Lucy was determined to keep it that way.

Looking upon Natsu and Gray deciding to break their tie with another game, she sighed, wistful. She’d seen it before during her travels with the caravan, but now set it to stone.

The two Roma’s reminded her almost of brothers, constantly bickering, always attempting to one-up the other, but there was no true hate between them. No heat to the fire. Nothing tangible. It was the same everywhere she looked. This place, the villagers and nomads included, they were family. It was a comfort Lucy felt herself sinking into with each new moment added to her memories.

At some point Cana disappeared into the crowd, no doubt on the hunt for more drinks and to spread mischief. She muttered a quiet, “See you at the dances,” before she went. Now it was just herself, giggling as she observed the antics of two boys refusing to admit defeat, resorting to elbowing each other grouchily, hardly paying Cana any mind when she left. Lucy assumed their rivalry would continue well into the night, but was stunned when both paused at the tell-tale changes in music around them.

With the lighting of the torches and quiet, steady beat of the drums, Lucy recognized it just as they did. The next dances were about to begin.

Gray stiffened, ears going pink through the fringe of his dark hair as he glanced awkwardly between Natsu and Lucy, raising his eyebrows expectantly. When neither moved, watching Gray in bemusement, he grumbled, clearly frustrated at the lack of whatever reaction he was looking for. “So? You two just gonna stand there? You're gonna be late if you don’t hurry it up.” He mumbled, eyes glancing in every direction that didn’t meet their own. Lucy froze in place, blinking at him owlishly, uncertain how to respond while Natsu choked on whatever other challenge he was about to shout. Gray continued, jerking a thumb towards the beach where a few pairs were already breaking off from the crowd and making their way. “We can settle our score later, Natsu, don’t you two have a dance to get to? You don’t wanna skip out more than two days in a row do you? Shouldn't let stuff like this wait.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Then another.

Then the realization. “Oi! that’s not -” Natsu began, voice turning to steam in his mouth.

Heart rose in her throat and threatened to overtake her entire face. Lucy stammered, abashed. “I’m not dancing! Especially not for that!” Why did everyone assume she was ready to court? She hadn’t even been there a year!

Gray started, slack-jawed and ready to catch flies. The disbelief on his face quickly shifted to mild annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan as he listened to their denials, their words tumbling over one another. Lucy wasn't sure which of them was more embarrassed. Gray threw up his hands, cutting them off. “For the love of- I thought with the whole matching get ups that you- … You're joking right? I knew Natsu was oblivious, but I didn’t think it was contagious. You know what? Whatever, I’m out of here. Before it spreads. I owe Cana her drinks anyway.”

The two continued to protest, but Gray waved them off and kept his stride, hand lowering as the crowd swallowed him.

Lucy covered her face, turning her attention to Natsu, eyes peeking through her fingers. Similarly, he couldn’t look her in the eyes. The beginning of the dances thrummed the rhythm of drums through the ground and the crowd dispersed, slowly thinning as onlookers moved to witness the birth of brimming, young couples. Or the death of some, she vaguely recalled, thinking of Cana. Lucy was rooted in place, uncertainty freezing her as Natsu played with the ends of the red scarf on his head, avoiding her gaze. “So.. uh- “ He drawled, reaching for any source of distraction, “You’re not going to do.. Any dance…..at all?” At the sight of Lucy’s expression turning dark, Natsu backpedaled, “Not the courting one! Just, any of ‘em? Lisanna taught you the basic ones, right? Really not gonna try a few out?”

If Lucy had, at any moment, appreciated Natsu’s ability to cut through an awkward moment and change the subject, it was then. She clutched his questions like a lifeline. Lucy cleared her throat and motioned towards her leg, standing strong, but still braced by the cane in her grasp. Gnawing her bottom lip, she considered the situation and cursed her inability to heal at a normal pace.

“She did teach me a few,” Lucy admitted, recalling their first meeting and Natsu witnessing the end of the practice session that followed after. She enjoyed that memory. Loved every moment Lisanna had taught her the movements with unending patience and enthusiasm.

For the first time in almost a year, Lucy had felt her body move, free from the dull thud of her chained magic and memories of pain chased away with each fumbling step that she had taken. However, that fun night didn’t lead to any form of mastery, and self-doubt riddled her words as she continued, “but I can’t claim I remember them all.”

“Who says you gotta remember 'em all?” Natsu snorted, head tilting off towards the Maypole, silhouetted by the stars and torches in the distance. “Only dancers like Lisanna are perfect at them, y’know. You don’t gotta be like that.”

Lucy’s flush burned anew, “I know, it’s just.. ,” she reached for words that refused to surface and frowned deeply, “Well my leg is already sore and I just…” Push through, Lucy, you can say it! “I don’t want to….get in anyone's way?”

Whatever Lucy was expecting, Natsu wincing like her words struck him was not it. Instantly his countenance changed. A spark of yellow flashed through his eyes and his body grew tense, as if holding back an unknown reflex. Growling low, frustration welled inside and he reached to grasp Lucy by the shoulder, gaze burning with an intensity that left her confused and breathless.

“Uhh- “ Was her intelligent response. Her eyes glanced between his serious expression and the calloused fingers that gripped her, “Is something wrong-”

“There is,” He paused and Lucy realized he was considering his words beforehand. A sign he was to be taken seriously, she’d learned. His grip tightened slightly, regaining her attention as he decided his phrasing, “why do you have to be so weird and think you could ever get in the way? Everyone just wants you to enjoy yourself. Even if that means resting up that leg and clapping along on the side if that's the best you can do. No one's watching to see you mess up”

"Oh…" She exhaled a soft breath, stunned. A surge of emotion pricked her eyes and she sniffled, nodding silently as the barest hint of a relieved smile curled along her lips. “That’s- .. I think I needed to hear that- “

Natsu however wasn’t finished. His hand slid along her arm to grip her fingers, warmth passing through him to warm the chilled digits. Foregoing an explanation he gently tugged her through the crowd, leading her off through the stalls and away from the beach. Away from… the beach?

“Natsu-?”

“If you’re not confident enough to dance with everyone yet,” Natsu said, gaze fixed on the tree line beyond the village, “Then maybe this’ll help.”

She wanted to demand answers, to dig her feet into the ground and see just what was going through his mind in that moment, but the warning still sung in the back of her mind and the stars above sparkled brightly in earnest.

They shone above as tiny whispers spoke within her heart and soul, urging her to follow and his hand, far gentler than she was used to, continued to lead her through the easiest path, never jarring her leg for a second. Natsu was careful. So careful. Curiosity won and Lucy allowed herself to be tugged away, far from the music and dances, far from the gazes of the villagers who watched her and Natsu’s every move. A quiet want for a tiny, small adventure led her on and the stars above urged her to continue.

She trusted him after all and could find no other reason to deny him at this moment.

Further and further from the village, Natsu led her up the inclines nearest the woods, veering off the path that would've taken them to Porlyusica to forge his own way, pushing past the curling thicket and thin branches with confidence.

Determined and steadfast, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and Lucy went along with a little stumble each time the pace grew too much for her. Natsu always paused then, uttering a sheepish apology before urging her to follow yet again. It reminded her of their first venture through the woods. After that dreadful landslide and before her magic illness had taken complete hold.

He’d led her through the thickets with ease then, stamping down the grass to help her follow along. This time however, impatience overruled logic and after a few more stumbles, he swooped in to lift her, arm holding her legs and skirts together as he moved, a snicker escaped at her surprised squeak. Lucy’s yelp echoed through the brambles as a few birds took flight, startled out of their sleep. “Was that necessary?”

“Do you mind?” He asked belatedly, but Lucy bit down the sass, recognizing his intention that belied the outcome. She shook her head and sighed, fingers clutching her cane as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was a familiar comfort, one her aching leg relished upon as the sudden freedom allowed her stiff muscles to relax.

“I’ll hold off from lecturing.” She decided after a few seconds, eyes looking to the darkened skies above. Glittering stars peeked through the leaves that littered above their heads, lighting the way alongside the strange orange glow of the moon. Her eyes narrowed, something tugging at the back of her mind. She hadn't noticed that before. “Only because you’re in such an obvious hurry.” She murmured, distracted.

Natsu’s responding smirk was all the answer she needed. Smugly, he tightened his hold and sped up, ignoring the grains of sand that drifted from their clothes and how the echoes of music slowly began to fade the further they went along. Soon, the glow of the festival was far behind them. The night sky illuminated the path before them, if it could even be called that. and Lucy squinted to keep track of it. Just where was he going?

When she asked, he chuckled, unbothered by the low light. “You’ll see.” He simply said. The grin he flashed her brought a strange heat to Lucy’s chest. She rolled her eyes, recognizing his need to uphold the mystery.

“I think everyone but me knew you could dance,” She accused, eyes narrowing sharply. “So what’s all this secrecy about?”

“They don’t know I can dance. I made sure of that.” Natsu argued, fingers heating lightly to warm her now that the night air began to bring its early spring chill. “You saw the fire dance, right? I goof up all the others.” After a pause, he added, “Keep that between us, yeah?” “You-.” Lucy began, mouth agape, “You do it on purpose? Even Lisanna thinks you have two left feet! If she found out-”

“That’s why I asked ya’ to keep it between us!” Natsu whined, voice revealing his sudden pout. “It’s easier to avoid stuff when people think you suck at it.”

Lucy opened her mouth to argue, more than prepared with the memory of Gray’s earlier assumption in her mind, but his implications caught in her throat and she realized his idea had less to do with dancing and everything to do with… with… realizing Gray’s obvious thoughts towards their relationship.

Lucy bit her lip, hiding her face in the crook of Natsu’s neck to avoid his observant gaze. “And yet you did a perfect Fire Dance. Are you sure everyone isn’t just pretending for your benefit?”

“They’re not the same thing!” The retort was a repeat of his words the day before and he jostled her playfully. Her answering giggle went ignored and she tweaked his ear in response. With a yelp, their discussion continued.

Back and forth they bickered until the shrubs and twigs gave way to an open clearing surrounded by trees that towered into the sky. Lucy wiped stray leaves from her and Natsu’s hair before drinking in the scene before her.

The stars have never been clearer, shining proudly with no wisp of cloud in sight to bar them. The corners of the sky almost seemed to glow with the distant red hues of the bonfires down below, but everything was paled by the moon. Risen in position far above their heads and an ever darkening red orange, it loomed above them, encircling the clearing in a warm gentle light that painted the tips of each strand of grass. Lucy could hear the crickets start their chirping and an owl made itself known through the darkened trees. It was clear, in that moment- and in the way Natsu slowed his steps, carefully setting her down with a gentle hand on her shoulder- that this had been his target all along.

The clearing was far removed from the coastal village and Lucy wondered how Natsu had come across it. When she asked, voice heavy with awe, he gave her a noncommittal shrug.

He intended to keep his secrets for now, leaving Lucy in the dark.

“If I’m gonna dance where no one can see me, where else would I go?” His rhetorical question hung between them while his fingers trailed down her shoulder to grasp her wrist instead, urging her to follow his lead once again. Uncertainty almost slowed her pace, but she’d gone this far with him and continued onward, her cane barely brushing against the ground before she was urged to step forward again and again. The grass had yet to grow to its full height, brushing along the hem of her skirts as they shuffled to the center.

It felt as though Lucy had stepped into a new world with him, the village pushed to the recesses of her mind. But the steady thumping of the drums echoed with a gentle beat, barely reaching her ears, but enough to ground her to reality.

“We’re so far from everything.” She pointed out, foot tapping against the ground. “ If we're supposed to dance, how can we without music?”

"Can't you hear the drums? That not enough for you?"

"Hardly." She complained, "I have to strain if I want to follow along."

“ Well I can hear 'em just fine. But that doesn't matter. Don't need it either way.” Natsu stated, turning to face her as he swiped the cane faster than she could blink.

“Hey-!” Lucy’s surprised shout cut off when he tossed it to the side, the soft thud echoing its location. “What are you doing? I NEED that!”

That teasing grin was back. “No you don’t.”

Lucy fixed him with a stare, unamused.

He repeated himself, mischief filtering through his every word. “You don’t need it. I’m here.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Lucy argued, “How are you supposed to teach me confidence I don’t have if I can’t even hold myself up to do it?”

He didn’t answer her. Not with words.

Natsu stepped into her space and Lucy thought for a moment he was about to scoop her into his arms again. Instead, he braced her elbows, pulling her to him until the tips of her feet touch his own, leaving hardly any space between them. He was close.

Too close. She thought.

Far too close.

Her eyes were level with his chin and neck. Turning shy, Lucy tilted her gaze downward, unable to meet Natsu’s, only to immediately regret the decision as his broad chest came directly into view instead. He still hadn’t put his undershirt back on since yesterday's dances. Coughing, she frantically looked further down at their feet, focusing on the straps on their sandals, the blades of grass, anything but the sudden change that had her heart threatening to climb up her throat. All while struggling to question his intentions. The trees felt restrictive, threatening to close in on her and swallow her in darkness.

“Uh, wait, Natsu. I- I can't. I don’t-”

He interrupted with her name, voice as low as a whisper, dark eyes intently staring at her own when she finally met his gaze. “Breathe. Just say the word and I’ll back down.”

Lucy’s mouth became dry and the pieces of her world and their current predicament shifted away from her like sand.

“I-” She was confused, not uncomfortable, but it felt embarrassing to say. Everything felt too much. too embarrassing. Her emotions ballooned out of control as she struggled to make sense of them. Her fingers turned white from the pressure she dug into his arms, bracing herself as he held her up. Her toes wriggled, brushing against the edge of his sandals and with another tug, she came to a mystified realization.

The pressure on her leg, it was gone. The soreness of her knee, barely a memory. Natsu’s arms not only braced her, but held her up, keeping the weight off her legs as she considered him. Despite the tension in her arms, he was keeping her still, safe.

She- she was safe. She swallowed a deep breath, feeling the cloud of fear ebb away. Her stomach flipped and her grip relaxed.

Lucy said nothing. She didn’t have to. And Natsu’s understanding smile was warm, unguarded and another piece of Lucy’s worries dropped away. “All right. Move your feet then.”

Lucy’s nose scrunched, her confusion renewed. “Move them where exactly?”

“Onto mine, duh.” Natsu huffed, almost irritated that she wasn’t getting the point yet. “How else am I gonna teach you?”

“You can’t be serious.”

He grinned, “Oh I definitely am.”

She had no answer. No sound escaped as she stared, stupefied. He wanted her to... “That’s been your idea this entire time?”

“Well, yeah,” He raised a brow, head tilting as if he didn’t once consider how ridiculous the whole notion was. “It’ll be easier on your legs right? And you can feel each movement with your body. Muscle memory is great and you won't be too sore tomorrow as a bonus!”

She almost said no. It was silly. Too silly. Why drag her out here, with the stars as their only witness, so far from the festival just to have her dance on his toes like a small child? Is that how he saw her? A child?

Lucy couldn’t deny the ease on her knee, and his careful consideration of her pain argued with her offended feelings. He was trying his best. For her. Despite how nervous his proximity made her, Lucy couldn’t voice her annoyance. Not now. Not when he looked so excited to share this with her.

She grasped his shoulder, and shuffled carefully to stand atop his feet. Her other hand moved to grasp his awaiting one, squeezing their digits together.

It was just one dance. What could it hurt?

“Okay. Fine.” Lucy agreed, feeling his warmth spread through her entire nervous system, “Teach me.”

And he did.

It was an awkward and clumsy start. Lucy’s concerns were fair. Not only was Natsu’s sandals hard to grip, her own movements caused the two to stumble more than once as he began to move her to a silent beat. There were also a few moments where somehow he almost stepped on her feet.

The pace began too fast and she slipped, almost sending them crashing to the ground, but Natsu chortled and pulled her back without hesitation. It was all part of learning, he claimed, keeping her situated against him. A few more false starts and stumbles that left Lucy’s head throbbing as she smacked into his chin and the two fell into a fit of giggles, over-taking all other sounds in the area.

“This,” Lucy started, gasping for air as her giggles began to disperse, “Is ridiculous!”

“No,” Natsu argued, finally taking a much slower pace for her to keep up with, hands holding her securely as they moved side to side, twirling as they went, “It’s fun!”

As their little dance continued, Lucy began to realize that maybe, just maybe, Natsu was also learning. He met her halfway at each juncture, reeling in just a little more the longer it went on.

When his moments of speed left her dizzy he adjusted at each complaint that she issued. Natsu’s grin was a permanent fixture on his face, crinkling at the corners of his bright eyes while his fingers moved to warm her back. He held her with a gentleness that contradicted his very nature while through the laughter, missteps and almost disasters, she had to accept one simple fact:

It was fun. All of it.

The air was crisp and clear. The stars gleamed brightly above them and at some point, Lucy felt as if nothing else mattered. Her pain. Her grief. Each jolt of giggles and stumbles filled a yawning hole in her heart she had desperately tried to ignore for months. Natsu’s eyes glowed with the light of his inner fire, keeping his focus firmly on her. Their steps fell in line, slow and comfortable, sliding about the clearing. The moment was theirs and theirs alone, under the watchful gaze of the glowing moon that shone upon them, its cool light unreaching as Lucy tasted a touch of heat to the air.

Embers danced in the air around them, they slipped from Natsu's skin and thickened to curling strands that wrapped her in warmth and ignited the ground beneath their shared steps.

“ - Natsu…?” Lucy questioned softly, but he didn’t answer.

The tingle of magic now brushed from his palm to hers, the twisting coils raced atop her skin. His fire flowed from him unrestrained, warm and licking at the edges of her dress. Lucy realized - baffled- that she felt no pain, smelled no ash. There was no scalding heat.

The flames were there and yet the world acted as if it were not. The magic Natsu sent through his fingers jolted through her own, firing up her body with each rhythmic pulse. It sent signals to every limb, pulling at her soul. Distantly, she recalled a time months ago, when she exclaimed her surprise at his control and he claimed, offended, ‘My fire doesn’t work like that!’ She experienced it now, the control he masterfully held, keeping his heat from endangering her and the world around them.

His magic. She could feel it as it called to her.

She almost slipped at the startling revelation, but Natsu was prepared, arms quickly shifting to accommodate her, eyes reflecting the orange moon above. She saw herself in those eyes and her breath caught in her throat. He pulled her flush against him, leaning close enough for his lips to brush against the edge of her ear, voice a heated whisper.

“You think way too much.” He coaxed, a chuckle escaped with his words. “Now's not the time to think, Lucy. It's just us here and no one's watching ya'. Don’t fight it. Just go with the feeling.”

His words struck her at her core, loosening the lock on the part of her that was forcibly tied down. Like a dam had burst, the tingle of magic that flared across her skin was no longer the choking sickness that threatened to strike her down.

No longer was it just the heat of his own fire, tempting her to release whatever barriers that had been placed upon her. In the seconds that spanned in that brief eternity, her magic answered the call, washing over her in a blinding flash, almost drowning out Natsu's before balancing out. A brilliant, soft glow mixed with the flames and arose around them like their own, personal night sky of twinkling yellows and sparkling orange embers.

“There you go.” His withdrawal left her neck and ears cold, but the heat of their magic replaced it. Natsu slowed their dance, spinning them before coming to a near stop. Breathing in, he rested his forehead against her own. “That's better, right?”

Lucy couldn’t answer with words. Tears welled up in her shining eyes that spilled down her cheeks in a cascade of bittersweet joy while her fingers clung tightly to his arms, trembling with emotion.

How long had it been since she felt the pull of her magic without pain? Since it sang under her skin like an old friend that didn’t promise fever or seared through her like venom? Its waves rocked and pulled at her from within, suspending her mind in a fog of comfort.

How could she say anything when these emotions overflowed?

Whatever feelings that muted her, Natsu only grinned in response. Words weren’t needed. Not for this. And Lucy had never felt more grateful than in that moment.

Slowly, their dance began anew, the clearing now bathed in the light of their shared magic, and Lucy felt the whispers of the stars pricking against her senses. She never realized the pressure that built against her until it dropped and she had to marvel at the way Natsu helped bring it out of her.

How did he know? She mumbled the question, unwilling to part during that perfect moment and giggled when Natsu’s answering reply tickled the edge of her ear.

“Just doing what felt right I guess.” It was such a Natsu type answer, Lucy accepted it immediately. She couldn’t hear the drums, nor the faint laughter of the festival down below, but she reveled in that fact, the privacy was a comfort that she needed. Lucy followed Natsu’s lead as she focused on the thrum of magic inside her, hanging onto that familiar glimpse of light for dear life Lucy..

… We’re so glad… We can help you now…

It had been weeks, no, months, since Lucy last heard the strange voices that echoed in her soul. No longer did she feel the slicing headache that came with it, nor the same confusion that struck her the first time. The voices entwined together, a formation of many and matched the sparkling of the stars above them. For the first time since her Clan was lost, Lucy recognized them for what they were. The very stars. They recognized her birthright and finally, she could hear them.

Lucy stepped off Natsu’s feet, enthralled. Golden tendrils of light circled her knee to keep her steady and she glanced towards the very friends she’d never known she had lost, who'd watched over her in her darkest moments . She took her first steady steps in almost a year. “I can hear them.” She whispered in awe, wiping the tears that stained her cheeks. “The stars are with us, Natsu.” She didn’t hear the Draconis' response as he let her slide from his fingers; he stood back to witness her spin on her own two feet, his smile a permanent fixture splitting across his face. How long the magic would hold her up, neither could tell, but it didn’t matter. Not when Lucy glowed with a smile so bright he thought it would steal away his very breath. He hadn’t realized how sad her previous smiles had been, but this one cracked through the barrier of her grief and revealed a Lucy he’d never seen before. She shined.

The wind picked up with Lucy’s dance, rustling the leaves and grass around them as clouds rolled in, slightly covering the reddened moon high above them.

Natsu felt a chill run up his spine, one that was ignored in favor of Lucy’s brightness. Her laugh illuminated her entire countenance, enjoying the moment of freedom she finally possessed and he refused to let anything interrupt the experience. But something wanted him to notice. And with another heavy gust of wind, he heard the same voices he had heard just moments before the ground beneath him had swallowed him and Lucy up. The trees… Look… to the …

“Lucy,” Natsu started, noticing her expression drop, recognition shining in her eyes, “Do you hear that-”

HE’S HERE

The wind died instantly. A choking stillness that threaded itself in the air made the blanket of clouds slow to a crawl, filling the empty sky with shadow.

The red of the moon still bled through illuminating the oily black darkness that sliced through the trees, drowning the remnants of Natsu’s fire, stifling the light from a startled Lucy. She crashed to the ground, the magic holding her fizzled out from the shock as Natsu bolted to her position, instinctively grasping her shoulders to pull her from danger. The shadows swallowed everything like a wave, pulling itself through the grasses and reared up like a beast, thinning to dagger like points that it bared at them, desperate for blood. A familiar voice, one that raised the hairs on Natsu’s neck in warning, broke through the trees in a gleeful cackle. “I found you!”

The manic tone of Kage’s voice sent alarm bells through Natsu, reacting just in time to cover Lucy as the shadows engulfed them, the sharp, dark edges cutting through the fabric of his clothes to leave glancing scratches beading with blood. Lucy shrieked, hands pushing against him in a futile attempt to shove him from the onslaught.

“Natsu- “ She wheezed beneath him, “it’s me! It’s me he wants!” The wild declaration was too fast, too sudden. He knew she was right, and it cemented his body in place and his resolve, “He wants me alive Natsu, move!”

There was no response. Not in words. Just the budding of scales along his arms and face as anger suffused his body in dark flames.

The shadows that struck him clashed and burned and finally, his gaze met the desperate ones of their former prisoner, free and jumping through the bushes, his hands raised as he directed his shadows to his quarry. “What makes you so sure?” He asked, a tendril of his shades came bursting through the grass to strike once more. In horror, Natsu realized the wave of shadows came to circle upon them. His intent was clear. He was trying to take them both together. Rolling to the side, Natsu pulled Lucy over him, arms heaving as he moved on instinct. He still remembered the words spoken to him so long ago. Their instructions were clear and ringing in his ears.

‘Don’t let her burn out…’

“Start running and don’t look back.” He ordered, shoving her with all his might towards the cane forgotten in the grass, his fanged grin was wicked in the low light, sharp and feral as more scales grew and hardened against his skin. Natsu met her terrified eyes with a now steady yellowed gaze, broken by thin slit pupils. The shadows swarmed to overtake him, “I’ve got this.”

Lucy’s scream pierced through the sky as sharp blades sliced once more, wrapping his body in a cloud of darkness leaving shallow cuts on his arms thrown up in defense.

But he moved too slow. Lucy couldn't miss the heavy burst of red that flew from the gash on his neck, painting the air and the tips of the triumphant blade that had found its mark. His angry roar was silenced.

Immense heat burst from his body, blazing through the shadows and circling the clearing. He felt the blood flowing freely on his clothes drenching the fabric in sticky warmth but that wasn’t enough to stop him. Wetness coated the back of his throat, a metallic tang on his tongue made him curl his lips in a feral snarl.

A swirling cocoon of fire and darkness enshrouded him from view and he could no longer hear Lucy, but Kage’s laughter embroiled him. ‘... Draconis.’

If the stars knew what he was, who was he to deny them?

--- Tag List ---

@cobblepottantrum @pbfanart @lovelyluce @yuldragneel @mamabearcat @millennial-star-gazer @caandleworks @kaycha1989 @just-another-dream-girl @dlshieldss @ctay21 @gingerthesnap @acidrain1698 @clockworkassassino @caranikki-blog @doginshoe @unwei @moeruhoshi @mykingdomforachocolatecookie @melissa827 @littlejinxed @moonlitstargazerforever @squeep123 @bitch-stole-my-nutella-again @shadyhydrathesnekqueen

#Fairy Tail Fanfiction #Nalu Fanfiction #nalu #natsuxlucy #FT Fanfiction #Natsu Dragneel #Lucy Heartfillia #Fairy Tail #Multi Chapter #Flame's Desire

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