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imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—————————————————

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 4 years ago

Text

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

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shawnssongs · 5 years ago

Text

Better [3]

JJ can’t help but fall for his best friend, but what about the rule? Pogues don’t mack on other pogues. He thinks she deserves better than him anyway...

word count: 3,280 warnings: poorly written, filler, tons of dialogue, almost smut...

Catch up with part 1, and part 2, or check out my masterlist!

You emerged from the bathroom clad in a pair of John B’s sweatpants and one of his tee shirts, and JJ couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the sight, but he knew that if he’d had the right clothes here, you would’ve worn his instead.

“Hi.” You smiled at JJ, sitting down next to him on the couch, adjusting your body so you could lay flat on your back, your head in JJ’s lap. His hands immediately foind your hair and his fingers began to brush through the damp strands.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not bad like this. Hurts when I move.”

“You wanna go home?” JJ asks and you nod. The sun and heat wore you out, and if JJ ran his fingers through your hair any longer you’d probably fall asleep right here on his lap, not that that would be a bad thing.

“John B!” JJ yelled, making you laugh. “Start ‘er up.”

For once, JJ did not try to smoke on the car ride. John B drove, JJ sat next to him in the passenger seat, and you were laying down in the back, the three of you just listening to music and talking. It wasn’t a very long car ride anyway.

“Alright, Y/n. We have reached our destination.”

JJ opened the passenger side door, getting out to help you out of the volkswagen. When you made it out, with minimal pain due to JJ’s help, you thanked John B and started towards your front door, JJ trailing right behind you.

“Uh, where’re you going?” John B asked JJ.

Your eyes widened. *Uh oh.*

“I was just going to uh, walk her in.”

JJ made faces at John B, telling him to shit up and leave, but John B was having too much fun.

“She’s five steps away from her front door, JJ. Come on.”

“Dude, let me be a good friend.”

And with that, John B was finally satisfied. “Alright, JJ. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Good luck with your burn, Y/n.”

“Thanks, John B.”

“I thought he’d never leave.” JJ complained when the Volkswagen was finally out of sight.

“He’s gotta know something’s going on between us.”

JJ shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You wanna stay for dinner?”

JJ nods, already salivating at the thought of your moms cooking.

“Oh, JJ!” Your mom cheers just as you open the door to your house and JJ smiles, loving the attention.

“Mrs. L/n! Nice to see you.” JJ held out his arms, allowing your mom to hug him tightly.

You rolled your eyes. He was always such a charmer.

“How are you?” JJ asks and you slip away, wanting to change your clothes. John B’s were comfortable, of course, but you really didn’t want your parents asking questions. You weren’t sneaky enough though because your dad caught you just as you reached the door to your room.

“JJ here again?” He asked, but he already knew the answer. Your house wasn’t large, and your moms cheers echoed throughout it. “You know we can’t keep feeding him all of our food.”

You sigh. “I know, Dad. It’s just-”

“You don’t have to explain. I know.” Your dad placed a hand on your shoulder for comfort. “We can try to help him as much as we can, but family comes first. We have to keep ourselves afloat.”

You smile up at your dad. As far as parents go, you were pretty lucky. Your mother and father were made for each other. He was a hippie, she was a hippie... that’s pretty much all there is to it. You grew up in a loving, sustainable home. Yeah, you might not have much money, but you get by. Your mom is an intense gardener, so you were always stocked with lettuce and vegetables for salads and countless herbs for seasoning. Your dad fished, and you ate what he caught. Even though you were clearly a pogue, and you didn’t have the same luxuries or opportunities that the kooks had, you pretty much never felt as if you didn’t have everything you needed. It was different with your friends. With JJ. Earlier today he was taking a shower at John B’s, and though you were too, it was different. You needed a quick shower to wash off the mess you and JJ made. JJ was showering at John B’s because you knew his water at home was turned off again, probably because his dad gambled all the money for bills away, or he spent it all on drugs and alcohol. It was usually one or the other.

“Those JJ’s?” You dad’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You look down to where he’s gesturing at your clothes. “Oh, no. They’re John B’s.”

“Alright. Well you better change into some long sleeves before your mom notices that burn of yours.”

“Yep.” You laugh. “That’s the plan. Thanks Dad.”

Dinner was incredible. Your mom pan fried some bass, seasoning it with all of her favorite herbs, and JJ helped her cut up a salad to serve with it.

It wasn’t common for your family to sit at the table to eat dinner, but you always did whenever JJ or any other guest came over. After what felt like hours of talking and eating, all while you and JJ were playing footsie under the table and he was letting his fingers roam your covered thigh, you were finally able to retreat to your room. After, of course, helping your parents with the dishes.

“You’re such a tease!” You complain once your door shuts.

JJ smirks. “You love it.”

“You wish.” You challenge, but you know JJ’s going to win. He always does, but you don’t mind.

He takes your hand, pulling you into him for a kiss, and you reciprocate happily.

“Bed.” You manage to get the word out between kisses, and no complaint comes from JJ as he walks you over, laying you down gently on your back. Just like earlier, he started at your lips, trailing down until he reached your neck. His tongue felt amazing against your hot skin, but when he started to suck, you shrieked.

JJ flew backwards, eyes wide in shock. “What’d I do? Are you okay?”

“Sunburn, JJ.” You explain.

“Oh.” JJ nods. “Right.” He leans back down, placing light pecks along your neck to sooth your pain while you reach your fingers down to the hem of his shirt, lifting up until he takes it off.

You weren’t sure you’d ever tire of seeing JJ’s abs. Body type was defintiely not the most important factor for you, but it didn’t hurt. You could run your fingers over his muscles all day.

JJ looked up at you for consent when his hands reached the waistband of your sweatpants, and when you tell him yes, he pulls them off carefully, not wanting to irritate your burn. To his surprise, and pleasure, you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He asks, a certain rasp in his voice that makes your core heat up.

“None of my panties are the same shape as my bikini. They all touch my burn.” You weren’t lying about that, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about how JJ would react when he found out you weren’t wearing any panties, and he reacted exactly how you expected.

JJ took off his shorts, ready to take this further than just kissing, but he stops, unsure of how to proceed.

“Just don’t touch me.” You instruct.

“I can’t not touch you, Y/n.”

“Try.”

JJ nods, lining himself up with your center. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

That’s all the confirmation it takes for JJ to thrust himself into your entrance. His hands are placed on either side of your shoulders, holding himself steady, and he has to resist the strong urge to touch your skin.

“Harder!” You beg, your eyes shut in pleasure as JJ picks up his pace. He can’t help but clench his fists, his hands wanting so badly just to attach themselves to your skin. He’s so distracted he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, and somehow one of his hands ends up on your ribs. He doesn’t notice until you squeal in pain. “JJ!”

He pulls his hand away immediately, trying not to slow his pace, but he can’t help it. This isn’t working.

JJ slows down his thrusting until he’s stopped completely.

“We’re struggling with this, huh?” You smile at JJ, a cute giggle escaping you, but his eyes are shut, almost as if he doesn’t want to look at you. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “Jay? It’s okay.”

He nods, and it looks like his jaw is clenched. “I know.” Finally, his icy blue eyes meet you own, and you can’t help but smile up at him, especially when you notice a slight smile graze his own face. “I just...” He contemplates what to say. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, and it just...”

“Hasn’t been what you expected?” You finish for him, trying not to dwell on his nonchalant use of such rude language. With anyone else, you’d be offended. In a way, it seemed like he was saying sex with you was disappointing, but you knew that wasn’t the case. He was upset because the first time didn’t last as long as he’d wanted it to. You didn’t mind though. It was absolutely incredible for you. Especially since JJ finished you off afterwards. Most guys would just focus on themselves and leave you hanging. And this time was even worse. You couldn’t even finish. The foreplay had worked the two of you up so much and that all went out the door when you couldn’t connect with each other like you wanted to.

JJ rolled to the side, now laying next to you on his back. “Nope.” He answers, popping the p.

“It’s okay, Jay. We’ll get there.”

“I know, babe...” He turned to place a peck on your cheek and you couldn’t help but smile at the nickname and the gesture.

“When this sunburn doesn’t hurt anymore, and my skin is beautiful and golden, we’re going to have the best sex of our lives.”

You spoke confidently to cheer JJ up, and you knew it worked when you felt his chest contract in laughter.

“Yeah, if I still like you after I see you molting like a snake,” he joked.

“Ew!” You slap him on the chest while he giggles. “This isn’t going to peel!”

“Y/n, this is the worst burn you’ve ever gotten. Remember two summers ago when you got that burn on your back when we went fishing?”

You shivered at the thought. That burn was probably the worst pain you’ve felt in your life. Your shirt got stuck to your skin at one point and you were in tears trying to get it off. “Yeah. I missed three days of school because of that.”

Laughing softly, JJ continues. “Well this one looks worse.”

“Yes, but Kiara will hell me out with all her fancy creams and lotions. Last time I tried to use petroleum jelly and water.”

“Whatever you say...” JJ trailed off, yawning.

You were tired too. The sun had taken all the energy out of you.

“Can I stay?” JJ asked, seriously hoping you’d say yes. He really didn’t want to walk home. Or to John B’s.

“Of course, Jay. Always.”

He wanted to turn and pull you into his chest, but he didn’t want to hurt you, so he just cuddled himself up in your comforter and placed his head on your pillow, right next to yours, and the two of you fell asleep without another word.

Around eight in the morning, since you and Kie were always early risers unlike the boys, she got ready to head over to your house. She made sure to grab all of her aloe vera lotions, as well as a ton of different ingredients to put in baths to help relieve some of the pain you were in. Oatmeal, apple cider vinegar, essential oils, baking soda. She also packed some tea bags and coconut oil. Anything she’s ever used to relieve her own sunburns, she brought.

When she finally made it to your house, it was almost nine in the morning. You were sure to be up by now.

Unsurprisingly, when Kiara knocked on your front door, she was greeted by your overly friendly mother.

“Kiara, sweetie! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Hi, Mrs. L/n. How are you?” Kiara greeted with a smile on her face. She had always loved your mom. All of your friends did.

“I’m great! You here for Y/n?”

Kiara nodded. “Yeah. Is it alright if I come in?”

Your mom stepped out of the entrance, making space for Kiara to walk in. “Y/n isn’t up yet. You might want to knock.” Your mom’s voice dropped to a whisper. “JJ was here last night.”

Kiara’s brows furrowed. “And he stayed the night?”

Shrugging, your mom continued. “Usually he says goodbye when he leaves. Y/f/n and I were up pretty late. Never heard him leave.”

“Okay. I’ll knock.” Kiara was kind of shocked at the smile on your mom’s face. She hated to imagine how her own parents would act if they ever caught her having a guy sleep over, and with no offense to him, especially a guy like JJ. Her father might pass out from yelling so much.

You were woken up by a light knocking on your bedroom door, but as you tried to get up to open it, you were held down by something. JJ. His arm was draped accross your chest, and your eyes widened. Not in surprise, but in urgency. It was Kiara, and Kiara could not know JJ was sleeping in her bed.

“One second!” You called out, shaking JJ to wake him up. You made sure to place your hand over his mouth in case he tried to make any noise.

JJ’s icy blue eyes met yours and he looked at you in concern, silently asking what was going on. When you mouthed “Kiara,” he knew he needed to get out of there.

“Hold on, Kie! Let me get dressed!”

Kie just smirked on the other side of the door, and she knew you were trying to hide JJ. She’d been suspicious about the two of you for a while, and maybe you two finally gave in.

The brunette waited patiently until you opened the door in a rush, acting as if it hadn’t just taken like three minutes and a lot of loud noises for you to “get dressed.”

Kiara wasn’t going to push it though. The more she asked, she knew the more you’d deny it.

“So, I brought everything I had. I’m not sure what’ll work for you.”

“You are a lifesaver.” You smile at your friend. “Seriously. It took me so long to get ready because I can’t touch my skin.”

Yeah... that’s why... Kiara thought, looking behind you at the open window. Now she was sure JJ had just snuck out, but she still wasn’t going to push. If you wanted to tell her you would.

Kiara plopped down on your bed while you changed into the bikini you had been wearing when you got the burn so you’d be able to treat every inch. You didn’t think anything of leaving her in the room alone. JJ was gone, right? She was probably suspicious, but if she asked, you’d just deny it. You’d say there was no one here, and she’d have to believe you.

Well, you were wrong. In JJ’s haste to leave, he’d just pulled on his pants, grabbed the rest of his clothes and hopped out the window. What you didn’t know is that JJ dropped an article of clothing. Kiara noticed them sitting right below your window, and she knew they weren’t yours.

When you made your way back into the room, clad in only your bathing suit from the day before, you were mortified at the sight in front of you. Kiara was sitting there on your bed, JJ’s underwear in hand.

“Whose are these?” She asked, smirking. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear what you’d come up with.

“Uh, J-John B’s?” You answered, surprised you’d been able to come up with something so quickly. “I borrowed his clothes yesterday so my skin wouldn’t showing when I walked home. Didn’t want to get more sun.”

The brunette shifted a bit, giving you room to sit down on your bed with her.

“Didn’t John B drive you home, though?”

You nod. “Yeah, but I didn’t know that when I went to change.”

“He drove JJ too, right? I haven’t heard from him. Where’d he end up?”

You just shrug, surprised at how interrogational Kiara was being. She has to know something, or she wouldn’t be acting like this.

“Ugh, cut the crap!” You groan. “You know whose those are, don’t you?”

She hadn’t expected you to break so easily. “Yes, I know. Now how was it?” She nudged your shoulder, a giddy smile donning her face.

You chuckle at her antics, smiling right back. “Nothing happened, Kie.”

Her face turned to annoyance. “Now I know that’s a lie. His underwear is on your bedroom floor, and he stayed the whole night. And, you felt the need to sneak him out of your window when you knew I was here! Something happened.”

“We kissed a little... I’m too burnt for anything else.” You explained. You weren’t lying.

Kiara still didn’t believe you, though. “That doesn’t explain JJ’s lack of underwear.”

“Fine!” You sigh. “We tried to do more, but he wasn’t into it-“

“How could he not be into it?” Kiara cuts you off, and you can tell she’s about to go on about all your amazing qualities because she’s the perfect friend like that, but you explain before she has the chance.

“Shh! He wasn’t into it because he couldn’t touch me because of my burn. He kept hurting me and it ruined the mood.”

“Aw. Who would’ve known JJ’s such a softie?” Kiara held her interlocked fists against her heart. “When did this all start?”

“Yesterday. Well, I mean it’s kind of been going on for months but nothing happened until yesterday. Before we picked you up.”

“I knew something was up with you guys yesterday!” She exclaims. “You were both acting so weird.”

“We weren’t weird! Was it that obvious?”

Yes. “No. I’m sure I was the only one that noticed. John B and Pope don’t pay that much attention.

You sigh in relief. “Okay. And don’t tell anyone else. We wanted to keep this private for a while, and I’m not sure how the whole group would react because of the rule.”

Kiara makes a show of zipping her mouth and throwing away the key. “My mouth is shut. I won’t tell anyone, as long as you give me all the details from here on out.”

You can’t help but laugh, and you agree before the two of you change the subject and start working on your burn.

“So, John B wants to know if you’d be down for a kegger tonight at the boneyard?” Kiara asked you as she was packing up her things. She had to go work a shift at the wreck.

“Hell yeah.” You answer. “Sounds like fun.”

“And you’ll pass the message on to JJ?” She smirks, winking at you.

“Get out of here! I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Kie!”

John B knows, and now Kie knows too! Also... keggers don’t ever seem to work out too well, do they? I promise part 4 will NOT be filler! I do love good angst...

Please send feedback!!! (or lmk if you want to be added to the tag list)

Tags: (if your url is striked through, I couldn’t tag you! Let me know if any changes need to be made :) @tangledinsparkles @treestarrrrrrrr @parkersdarling @eternalharry @sarahsmaybank @mileven-reddie @im-thatannoying-girl @aight-immaheadout1 @dolanfivsosxox @avashroom @readysteadygo23 @mayakblack @jjswhore @mellilla-rose @poguesrforlife @faded-blue @anncsblyth @dpaccione

#my dumb ass always forgets tags #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj x y/n #jj x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #obx fic #obx fics #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic

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lowkeyjustvibing · 4 years ago

Text

I made a thing

I got some Swightblue for yalls

~~~

Nightmare and Blue had never been particularly close. In fact, they seemed to have an unspoken law to leave each other alone unless they absolutely had to deal with the other. So it was definitely a surprise to those who knew them (And even themselves) when they started getting much closer seemingly overnight. The funny thing is, it was overnight, or rather, over many nights. Many nights of secret rendezvous and poorly hidden affection towards the other. If you want to understand how these two got closer so close, you'd need to go all the way back to when they first worked together towards a common goal.

~~~

Nightmare ran down the halls as quickly yet quietly as he could, trying his hardest to muffle the slap of his shoes against the tiled floor. He was expecting to run into a guard or, if his luck was truly terrible, Dream. However, luck was on his side for once and he encountered no one. Well, almost no one. When he finally reached Dreams office (The location of which he'd learned through many trips through JR), he was surprised to see a solitary blue figure crouched in front of the door.

Blue was currently picking the lock of Dreams office which was quite easy with all his practice over the years. He quietly hummed a song as he worked, tense but at the same time very calm. He'd done this whole song and dance more times than he could remember. Dream would find something on Blues many... Less than legal activities, Blue would break into Dreams office and destroy the evidence, Dream would have to restart with no further evidence of the others crimes. Blue smiled at the thought of how angry and confused Dream would be when he finally woke up. Poor Angel Boy won't know what hit him. He thought, grinning. After a few more seconds, a quiet "Click" echoed through the silent halls and Blues smile only widened. He stood up and was about to enter when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

He spun around, fearing that he had been caught, but was slightly relieved to see that it was just Nightmare. They stared at each other for a moment before Blue broke the tense silence.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, quickly masking his previous surprise.

Nightmare raised an eyebrow, "I could ask you the same question."

Blue chuckled, "Touche." he sighed, picking a stray string off of his scarf, "Well, I'm here because Dream has some rather incriminating evidence in there against me and, well, I'm guessing you can figure out the rest."

"Still part of some illegal drug ring or something?"

"No, just trying to make a living in a very cruel world."

Nightmare scanned Blues face for any sign of lies or malice and even by scanning his emotions, he couldn't find any trace of deception.

Blue scoffed, snapping Nightmare out of his trance, "Well, I can see you definitely don't trust me."

"Have you given me any reason to trust you in the first place?" Nightmare snapped.

"We share a common enemy and, as the phrase goes, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You wish." Nightmare retorted then hesitated before sighing, "Y'know what? I don't have time to argue with you over this. How about we just agree not to mess with each other and get on with our lives, deal?"

Blue grinned, "Deal."

~~~

Surprisingly, that wasn't the end of their meetings. At first, it was through accident when they ran into each other in the castle again. Though over time, the confrontations began to become more intentional. Although neither would ever admit it, they began to enjoy being around the other. Maybe it was the adrenaline in those tense moments or blind stupidity, but there was something that drew them to the other. No one knew about this other than them. It was easy for Blue since no one was really there to ask where he went all the time, but things were a bit more difficult for Nightmare.

"Where do you keep going?" Cross asked.

”Yeah," Error butted in, "I get that you spend a bunch of time bothering Dream but you've been gone a lot more often. So, mind telling us what you're doing all the time?"

Nightmare began to panic, fearing how his friends would react to the knowledge that he was spending time with Blue, someone they weren't supposed to trust.

"Training!" He blurted out, surprising all of them.

Cross looked at him skeptically, "Training?"

Nightmare hesitated before nodding, "Y-yeah! I was worried that I was getting too relaxed and weak so I decided to make sure I'm still at peak performance!"

They eventually let the topic go and Nightmare had never been more glad that he and Dream were the only two who could sense emotions.

~~~

"You're later than usual my Purple Prince."

Nightmare sighed, "What have I said about that damn nickname?"

Blue chuckled and hung upside down from the rafters he was previously sitting in, "You've said you hated it, but I for one certainly enjoy seeing how flustered you get when I use it."

Nightmare scowled at the feeling of his cheeks heating up, "Just shut up before I sell you out to Dream or something."

"I highly doubt that partner." Blue said, jumping down.

Nightmare fake gagged, "Eww, that's even worse."

Blue leaned down so they were eye level and just inches apart, "Purple Prince it is then~"

Nightmare couldn't help the blush that blazed across his cheeks at Blues tone and how close they were.

It took him a moment before he snapped back to reality and shoved Blue away, "Nooooo more of that."

Blue snickered, grinning at him, "Oh c'mon Nighty, I can't sense emotions like you and I can still tell that you weren't exactly opposed to that~"

Nightmare wanted to die at this rate, "Shut up already." he growled, turning down the hallway and walking off briskly.

Blue quickly caught up, practically skipping up behind Nightmare, "My my, never took you for the tsundere type."

"If you don't stop talking I'm going to find a way to make you shut up for once."

The taller male danced around Nightmare and stopped in front of him, once again leaving their faces just inches apart, "And how would you plan to do that my Purple Prince~?"

Nightmare finally had enough and shoved Blue up against the wall. Blue was surprised and was about to make another witty comment before the other quickly smashed their lips together. Both were fairly surprised by the sudden action but didn't entirely care at this point. The kiss began escalating and they only stopped when Nightmare pulled away slightly.

"We're so going to get caught." He mumbled.

Blue smirked, leaning forward again, "I don't think you're really worried about that."

Needless to say, Blue was right.

#Swightblue #ds nightmare #ds blue #I made a thing :)

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whitelotus-ffxiv · 4 years ago

Text

新年快乐.

[[ tagging @benes-diction / @sirenofthesea-xiv for mentions, as always, of her beautiful amazing characters. <3 ]]

After the celebrations of the Lunar New Year in the Jade Palace, I am... tired. The banquets seem endless, the parties going on for what feels like days - maybe sennights - at a time. It’s exhausting, but it’s familiar. Among the ranks of the yakuza, we celebrated each passing year like this, too. It was a rare period of reprieve from rigorous training and painful punishments, a time to eat and a time to breathe before life went back to normal.

Even still, even if the memories are not altogether unpleasant... the passing of the new year is difficult for me. I find it hard to be as light-hearted as those around me. Inside of my chest is what feels like a large and heavy stone - a cold sort of place where it feels like I have placed a stone just so it doesn’t feel too empty. For years, I have tried to chase this feeling away. I’ve tried to bury it and stifle it and smother it in all manner of ways, but it persists. It lingers.

There is a place in me that cannot be filled, only repaired. Consciously, I know this. As a child, I did not mourn the passing of my parents. We never had the time. Hui and I were set and focused only on surviving each day after that. The oyabun took us in, and Hui... Hui allowed himself to mourn. He allowed himself to weep and to miss our parents and to say his goodbyes with paper lanterns covered in their names.

Sun Chun Tao. Sun Lei.

I hated watching those lanterns float away. I resented the watery fondness in Hui’s eyes, wistful and sad but at peace, as he watched them. And I was angry at myself for ever wanting to deny him that peace, for ever wishing he would sit and suffer with me, because... I didn’t know how to let go. Hui was always the level-headed one. He was able to say goodbye and know that it was for the best.

Of all the things and lessons he taught me, I wish he had been able to teach me this one, too.

There are some things, though, that I suppose you can only learn on your own - or that you can only learn when you’re ready.

I walked through melting snow with a thick cloak wrapped around the simple hanfu I’d chosen to wore for the journey. Jun told me there was a temple not far from the palace that the Garleans had left standing. He didn’t know if there was anyone left to attend it, but I went, regardless. I had to.

It was in varying conditions, really. Some parts of it looked old but well-kept, while others seemed to be nothing but crumbling stone and moss. I had cleansed myself in what seemed to be a bucket of fresh water and savored the chilly bites of ice against my skin before moving on. And although it was unknown if the temple was still being used or not, I was still surprised to see that someone else was there.

Holding a broom in gnarled hands, an old Hyur woman swept snow off of the stones. She wore the garments of a miko, and almost immediately, I felt a lump threatening to start in my throat.

I had seen my mother’s priestess garb only once before. She kept it folded away safely in a box within a closet, deep within, but she had showed it to me before with the same wistfulness and sadness but peacefulness in which Hui paid his respects to them each year.

“This is our history,” she had said while looking over the red and white fabric. “A special history that your brother and father can’t quite share with us. This is why you can see the ghosts that mama can see. This is why you can hear and sense things that others can’t. It’s a gift from our female ancestors - a blessing, as long as you know how to wield it, you see?”

Despite the fact that I knew I didn’t make much sound while I walked, and that I hadn’t spoken, the old woman with her broom looked up and over her shoulder to look directly at my face. She... was not familiar, but there was something in her eyes - dark and endless - that seemed that way. Or, at least... she wasn’t familiar to me. The same could not be said the other way around.

“Ah,” she noised softly, smiling slowly as she examined my face. “Yes. We have been waiting a long time for you, little Sun Xiu.”

Over her shoulder, I could see part of the ‘gift’ my mother mentioned in the form of hazy spirits, ones that I have always seen and never been able to name - ones that dispersed once I looked their way, and maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe it was the woman’s own thoughts, but she only smiled more once I looked her way once more.

“I guess that you have,” I relented quietly, coaxing soft laughter from the miko.

“Come out of the cold. I expect there’s much to talk about, Sun Xiu.”

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

She took us to a private room, and while she brewed a pot of tea, I observed her rather than the surroundings - which were simple, really, and not unusual for a temple’s inner rooms. The woman herself demanded my attention more.

She was rather short, a couple of ilms shorter than I was, and squat. All of her was round, in the comforting way that grandmothers are often portrayed. Wrinkles and lines were prevalent on her kind face, on her thick hands that had known their fair share of hard work. Trailing her was the scent of incense, the faintest smell of smoke. Her silver hair - which might have reached the backs of her knees if loose, I expected - was wound into a long, tight braid that she wore over her shoulder, not a wiry strand of out place.

“You’re a sad sort of young woman,” she mused, glancing up at me as she poured a cup of tea and set it down in front of me. “Your shoulders sag with an invisible sort of weight, Sun Xiu. And the way that they coil up now tell me that not many read you with as much ease, do they?”

“I expect our mutual friends have told you plenty about me,” I grumbled, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Do you always speak so bluntly?”

“You do not strike me as the type to prefer anything else,” she replied with a smile, and I clicked my tongue, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, because she was right. Of course she was. “And I most certainly have never been the type to speak in riddles. That’s the last thing a soul as tired as yours needs.”

With a soft groan, the old woman sat down in front of me with a cup of her own clasped between her strong hands. There were words sitting on the tip of my tongue, ready to fall - ready to bite and be curt and harsh, but I couldn’t force them out. And the woman watched my face with a familiarity and a warmth that unsettled me and, in a way, comforted me.

There was much, I expected, that I would not need to explain to her. There was clearly much about me that she already knew, and if it was anyone else, I might have reacted poorly. But her knowledge didn’t come from means that I could control. They came from that bond that my mother had told me about - a bond between the spirits and the miko that could communicate with them. And it seemed like the spirits had tattled plenty already.

“I am not unhappy about your visit, Sun Xiu - or perhaps you’re more comfortable with Lian Hua now? - but I must admit that I thought it would be a little sooner than this. Tell me, child - what plagues you so badly that you step foot into a shrine?”

I swallowed. I looked down at the cup of tea between my own hands - calloused from training and from fighting, so indelicate and ugly, at my nailbeds that were worn and torn, at nails that were kept as closely shaved down as possible. How much wicked had my hands done? How many lives and how many families had I torn apart with a flick of my wrist? How did I not burst into flames when I prayed, how did the kami not refuse to hear any pleas I might still have?

“Many things, I think,” I said finally, looking back up at the old woman’s face. “It’s hard to choose just one when you ask me in that way. But I expect there are many reasons why I should have come here a long time ago.”

As I spoke, the old woman lit three thick candles, the wax melted down into the tray they sat upon. Each was a different color - the tallest was purple, and the middle was red, while the shortest was white.

Royalty. Strength. Death.

“A heart is a heavy sort of burden, and I think you may have only recently began listening to yours once more,” she murmured, and I sat silently, watching the flames flickering in her dark eyes as she watched them. “The spirits have told me much of you already, Sun Xiu. You are most beloved by the kami. You were beloved by your parents, loved by your brother, even by a prince and princess of Doma, but...”

The woman trailed off and looked up at me expectantly, bushy eyebrows raised. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, like it was coated in sand.

“I don’t deserve it,” I whispered, like I was letting out a breath, and it felt like something had been sapped from my body all at once. They were words that I had been cradling since... since the day...

“Since the day I refused to give my parents my blessing into the afterlife, I have not deserved any of the love I receive. Not from them, certainly, or from Hui, not from the kami, not from Jun or Aoi or... anyone else. I have tried to be a light that never goes out. I was worrying about the flickering, but now... Over time, I realize that I never really was a light. I was trying to be something... that I wasn’t. I have always been a void, something dark and terrible and wicked, masquerading and basking in the warmth of something I have never deserved. A monster, pretending to be a-- a hero, or a savior, or--”

I had to wonder, the more I spoke, if the miko had drugged my tea to coax so many words from me at once. Only Jun was ever privy to my thoughts at length, and even so... Even so, expressing any of this to him would have been nigh impossible. But this woman - this stranger who knows me - watched me with a gentleness reminiscent of my mother’s, of Luli’s, even of the redheaded Garlean’s when she told me goodbye.

She had the eyes of a caretaker, of someone gentle, who looked at a broken person and saw those shattered pieces and loved them regardless.

“Xiu...” Her voice had softened, reaching a hand out to grasp one of mine as she stopped me - and silently, I thanked her for it - from rambling anymore. “You cannot truly think you are the only child who has not been able to accept the loss of their parents? You can’t believe that only those who have ever done good deserve to be loved, can you? Your prince - has he not done abhorrent things? Do you not think him still deserving of love?

“I see the spirits that linger around you,” she added, with a slight smile. “Even now, as hidden as they are to anyone else, I see them. They do not cling to you because you are wicked. They cling to you because they see what even mortals who know you well see - and that is a heart that only wants to do good. They see little Sun Xiu tending to sick chickens and stray kittens and running down dark corridors to help a ghost - someone long departed - because you heard them crying and begging.”

Even as I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, I looked back up at the miko. And despite everything, I... needed to know, as she recited these old stories back to me. I needed to know...

“Who are you?” I asked quietly, and she smiled again.

“My name is Mirai. And while we have never met, I have had quite the influx of spirits coming to tell me about you since you came to the Jade Palace - ones that have followed you from Haishan, and ones that you’ve only just met. You are the daughter of Chun Tao and Lei,” she said gently. “Chun Tao, priestess, miko, beloved by the kami and by the spirits as her precious daughter is. We miko have a way of getting tangled up if the spirits and the kami wish it to be so.”

Slowly, and with another quiet groan, this woman named Mirai rose to her feet. I watched as she walked to a shrine set up in the small room, and although there were no portraits, it was clear that offerings were made frequently. A tray for incense sat square in the middle, and quietly, Mirai placed a fresh stick after kneeling, just like I had watched Jun do in front of the portraits of his family within his wardrobe.

“You may not like it, and you may not agree with it, but you have always been destined for things bigger than you, Sun Xiu. You have always been in the plan of the kami. No, perhaps you won’t save the world - not in this lifetime, at least - but is it not true that you have saved people? That you have tried, despite the circumstances that have been given to you, to do good?”

My fingers tightened around my cup of tea as she lit the stick of incense and clasped her hands, bowing her head as she said a silent prayer. When was the last time, I wondered, that I had properly prayed? When had I knelt and bowed my head and brought offerings?

Had I ever prayed of my own free will after losing my parents?

“You have been a savior to the Jade Palace,” Mirai continued, and I swallowed again. “You walked into a place overcome with rot and pain, and you have helped to bring light back within. Where once laid only fear, there is now hope. Where there was once resignation, there is a refreshed desire to keep fighting. And where there were once a cursed people...”

Mirai lifted her head and looked to me, and for a moment - just for half a moment - I saw her eyes flicker in the way that mine do. The air shifted, and quite suddenly, I looked away from her to see the ghostly images of Luli and her family in the window, but not as they are now - as they were, blind and terrifying to behold, unable to speak...

“...are a people beginning to heal.”

The ghostly images shifted as I held my breath, revealing Luli and Liqin laughing together, their children laying in the sun while Midori ran across the beach with Aoi. Kyou was in Jun’s arms as he smiled at... someone I couldn’t see, but I knew the smile, now.

He was smiling at me, his eyes directly fixed on me, before the images disappeared into thin air once more.

“Your parents would be proud,” Mirai murmured as she rose back up to her feet, her eyes no longer kaleidoscopes of color but dark brown again. “You have been taught violence. You have been fed cruelty off of a spoon and told that it was love. Now, you receive love, and it confuses you. You wonder if you deserve it. You long for your parents, and you feel a disgust when anyone else tries to act that way - an anger at anyone, most especially, who tries to be a mother to you.

“It is not a betrayal to Chun Tao to allow them in. Do you think she would want her child to suffer eternally for the simple fact of not being able to say goodbye yet? No loving mother would wish that upon her precious child. You have been fighting a war for so long, Xiu, and it is far from over. The curse in the Jade Palace is not lifted in its entirety. You will go through extreme obstacles, hardships that will make you wish you were dead, trials beyond imagination...”

As she spoke, the old woman watched the burning incense, watched as the smoke curled into the air and as the ashes fell onto the wood beneath it. I found myself unable to move, unable to speak, unable to interrupt. All I could do was watch her and will my hands not to shake.

“...and you will survive them, as you have survived everything else,” the old woman said quietly. “It is not what you deserve. Just because you are strong does not mean you should have to do these things. But such is the nature of circumstance. You knew these things without me telling you. You knew these things and accepted them the day you decided you would remain in the Jade Palace - a feared and loathsome place by all who know it. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to stop myself, and Mirai smiled at me, gentle and soft once more. She touched my hand, brushed her thumb over the sparse gathering of scales at the top of my wrist, before looking at my face.

“The spirits of your ancestors will be with you. The love you receive will spur you on, as long as you accept it. The wicked you have done does not define you. The only one who can define you is you. So what are you, Sun Xiu? Who are you, beloved lotus?”

“Someone who is trying. Someone who is sad and angry and... full of regrets and... confidence that I can survive anything, without the desire to for myself. Not for myself, but for... for the people who need me...”

For Jun. For Aoi. For Ume and Anh, Luli and Liqin, Midori and Kyou, Hui-- for Biyu, that brave girl who risked her life just to defend my honor.

To live, because my parents died just so it could be so. To live, because my parents had begged, with their dying breath, that I do just that. To keep on going so that my parents did not die in vain trying to protect me.

I don’t remember when I started crying or how I ended up collapsed into this unfamiliar-but-familiar miko’s arms, letting her hold me as I wept. I was thankful that she didn’t ask me to say more. Maybe she didn’t need me to. I expect that she didn’t. No - I have a good feeling she knew every thought that ran through my head, in that quiet room, as melting snow dripped onto the open window.

“It is okay to crumble,” she told me as she held me. “It is okay to not always be strong, Xiu. You have been strong for so long. You put others before yourself, always. You are allowed moments of weakness and of selfishness. And it is okay - more than acceptable and understandable - to feel this deep sort of sadness when you miss your parents.”

I leaned back in her arms, sniffling, letting her wipe my tears with her calloused fingers as Luli had done for me before, as Liqin had done, as my mother had done when I fell and hurt myself and wailed over my scraped knee.

Mothers. Women who were older and wiser and who knew what to do, what to say - women who were strong but not infallible, who were kind but not weak. Women I wanted to be. Women I only hoped I could become.

Women that I hope I can help Aoi, Midori, Kyou, and all of the young girls around me to be, too - someone they can run to when the world is too much and when the sorrow is finally too much to bear alone. Those young girls, who trust me with everything... I hope I can help them. I hope I can be an example, someone to look up to, and not only for physical strength, but... as someone like a mother, or an auntie, or a big sister.

“Light a lantern for your parents before the end of this sennight,” Mirai told me, quietly, as she opened the door once I had pulled myself together to leave. “Or a stick of incense. Say a prayer for them. They await you - that much I can feel, but... They are in no rush to see you either,” she added, smiling faintly. “I will be here, Sun Xiu. My doors are always open to you. It seems you’ve learned much on dealing with your gift on your own, but there is always more to learn, hm?”

“Thank you,” I said as I bowed at the waist, my eyes low. “Thank you for... listening. For your time. And for... well. For knowing plenty enough about me without me having to say it all.”

“Don’t thank me,” Mirai chuckled, holding a hand out to reveal a familiar black yokai coiled around her wrist in the form of a snake. It blinked its large eyes at me, and even in my emotionally rattled state, I couldn’t help but to smile. “Your friends have been worried. They entrusted me with much.”

The snake disappeared, only for me to feel it settling in the sleeve of my hanfu, comfortable and warm for the journey back to the Jade Palace.

“Happy new year,” Mirai said, bowing to me. “And may many blessings reach you, Sun Xiu.”

“And you, miko. Happy new year.”

#what is this #ahhh #it went in so many directions my b #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp

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crystallized-shadow · 5 years ago

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Rating: Teen Pairing: Tobirama/Kagami Word Count: 4278 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pre-Heat, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Injured and stuck in a cave deep in Uchiha territory, Tobirama's not even surprised when his heat starts. He just hopes the only alpha that finds him is his brother.

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Tobirama tenses as he hears the nearly silent footsteps approaching him, footsteps that could only belong to a shinobi; civilians were never that quiet and had no reason to venture out this far. Given where he was hiding, and just how far he was from his closest allies, the chances of it being a friendly shinobi were nil. Normally Tobirama wouldn’t be worried, he wasn’t the second strongest shinobi of the Senju Clan for no reason, but normally he wasn’t poisoned, suffering from severe blood loss, dangerously low on chakra, and fighting off the start of his heat all at once. Usually the universe was kind enough to limit his disadvantages to just two or three things. A quick sniff alleviates some of Tobirama’s fears, at least it wasn’t an alpha coming to take advantage of him.

“Who’s there?” A voice calls and Tobirama is struck by just how young they sound, maybe he would have a chance.

Holding his breath, Tobirama hopes the kid will just leave but as luck would have it a curly head of dark hair appears around the bend. A flash of red alerts Tobirama to the Sharingan and before the Senju can stop himself, he lunges at the teen, a kunai instantly in his hand.

The Uchiha gracefully dodges and disarms Tobirama in one easy move, much to the Senju’s annoyance. “Easy there, you’re hurt.”

“Why do you care?” Tobirama huffs, struggling to get out of the younger man’s hold, even as he is gently lowered to the ground, “I’m your enemy.”

“Actually you’re Izu-nii’s enemy,” the teen chuckles and instantly Tobirama recognizes Kagami, Izuna’s younger brother, “not mine.”

“I’m a Senju, you’re an Uchiha,” Tobirama points out, batting away the hands tugging at his clothes. “You’re too young to want anything to do with my heat, so knock it off.”

“I’m trying to see your injuries” Kagami states, pausing in his actions to wait for Tobirama to calm down, “you don’t look so hot.”

“No shit.”

“Listen I’m trying to help you, so stop being an asshole and let me see what’s wrong.” Kagami orders and Tobirama reluctantly does as he’s told. They are both silent as Kagami gets the bloody rag that used to be Tobirama’s shirt off. “What happened?”

Tobirama very carefully doesn’t react to the sting as Kagami cleans his wounds, still surprised an Uchiha was helping him.

“I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“I was poisoned,” Tobirama finally admits, abelit reluctantly, “I ran out of my medicine and the shit I bought was spiked. An ambush was waiting for me, I got away by the skin of my teeth.”

“That must have been a strong poison,” Kagami remarks, carefully feeling Tobirama’s forehead after off his wounds are bandaged, “Izu-nii often complains about how strong you are.” The Uchiha frowns at the heat radiating off the Senju, it was too much to just be his heat, which spoke to a very potent poison.

“He does?” Now that makes Tobirama blink, he couldn’t imagine Izuna of all people complimenting him, even in a backhanded way.

“I don’t think he means to,” Kagami chuckles, the melodic sound soothing some of Tobirama’s frayed nerves, “but he still does.”

“Why are you helping me?” Tobirama asks, hesitantly taking a drink from the Uchiha’s canteen after the younger man takes a drink first, “isn’t this treason in your clan or something?”

“I know you Senju think poorly of us, but we don’t fight dirty,” Kagami states with a frown, “at least not now that Mada-nii is in charge and has taken care of the child and omega killers.”

“Madara did what?”

“Aniki never approved of Tajima’s policy of taking out people unable to defend themselves,” Kagami says, the use of his father’s name surprising Tobirama; clearly he wasn’t the only one with daddy issues. “The second Madara took over anyone who hunted down children or omegas in heat was severely punished, a few people were executed.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Madara of all people gives a shit about omegas?” Tobirama asks with a raised eyebrow, “because I’m not nearly drugged enough to believe you Uchiha treat omegas any better than the other clans.”

“Of course Madara cares about them, he’s an omega.”

“What!?” Later Tobirama would be embarrassed that his exclamation was less of a word and more of a yelp, but right now he was trying to wrap his head around how an omega had become clan leader.

“I suppose the other clans don’t know,” Kagami mutters sheepishly, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he fidgets, “but it’s well known in the Uchiha about his status; we don’t care. His strength and Mangekyo mean more to our clan than his birth status.”

“How progressive…” Tobirama grumbles, waving off the Uchiha’s questioning hum.

“I need to get back before Mada-nii gets worried,” Kagami says, passing over his supply pouch, “feel free to use any of that if you think it will help. I’ll bring you some real food and medicine tomorrow, so please don’t try and run away.”

“We’ll see,” Tobirama shrugs, even though they both know he’s still not in any shape to move yet. Kagami just grins before he leaves, careful to cover Tobirama’s scent with his own.

Tobirama puzzles over his newest piece of information, could it be possible that Madara was an omega? He didn’t think so, surely Hashirama would have noticed; sage above he probably would have mated the Uchiha by now if given the chance. It could be that Madara, like himself, used an herbal suppressor to keep his status a secret; even if the Uchiha accepted him that didn’t mean other clans would and an untimely heat could be deadly. Their clan must have a good supplier of the herbs, Tobirama had to grow his own because so few Senju omegas tried to hide their status. It was an easy way out of the war, provided they lived long enough to actually present.

Tobirama’s not sure when he nods off, but the next thing he knows a damp cloth is gently dabbing his forehead as Kagami’s muted scent washes over him. “You actually came back, alone,” Tobirama mutters, unable to hide his awe; he was sure a party of Uchiha would follow the naive boy to kill him.

“Of course,” Kagami scoffs, pouting at the accusation, “why must you think the worst of me?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because our clans have been at war for generations?” Tobirama shoots back, wincing when he tries to sit up himself, only for his arm to give out on him.

“Easy,” Kagami murmurs, carefully helping the Senju into a more comfortable position, “your injuries are bad and my iryo ninjutsu isn’t the greatest.”

“You know healing?” Tobirama asks, unable to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

“Are you always this critical of what people say?” Kagami huffs, his tone reminding the omega greatly of Izuna.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Kagami mutters, a startled laugh slipping free as he’s caught off guard by the blunt answer. “Anyway, yes I know some healing; all Uchiha know the basics, but few specialize in it.”

“Are you sure you’re an Uchiha?” Tobirama blurts and Kagami jerks back with a frown, chakra sparking behind his eyes, a warning of the terrors he can inflict.

“Excuse me?” The words are snarled Tobirama feels like he’s facing down Madara, not the gentle young man that was too pure to be a shinobi.

“You are too pleasant,” Tobirama says, hiding a wince as he shrugs, “and too honest. Were it not for your temper just now I would doubt your relationship to the other hotheads.”

Kagami remains silent for several moments, just long enough for Tobirama to brace himself for an attack, before the other man sighs.

“Mada-nii and Izu-nii have protected me from a lot,” he admits softly, unable to meet Tobirama’s eyes as he speaks, “so I do my best to live like our mother did.”

Did, past tense; not that surprising considering the war going on, but clearly it had been a traumatic death. “So what else have the Senju gotten wrong about you Uchiha?” Tobirama asks, wanting to distract Kagami from his darker thoughts for some reason.

Just like Tobirama had thought he would, Kagami quickly launches into a whole spiel about all the misconceptions surrounding his clan. Really the teen reminded him of Hashirama, which is probably what lets Tobirama’s mind drift as his wounds are carefully checked, cleaned, and rebandaged. Tobirama’s not surprised when his thoughts quickly return to his anija; he wondered if the elder Senju had figured out where he’d run into trouble? He should have returned yesterday and given how protective Hashirama had become after Tobirama had presented, he didn’t doubt the alpha was searching for him; he just doubted his anija was looking in the right place. Why would Hashirama think to look for Tobirama of all people deep in Uchiha land?

“You’re not listening, are you?”

Tobirama blinks in confusion as the words bring him back to the present, only to recoil at the Uchiha staring deeply into his eyes. “What are you doing!?” Tobirama growls, shoving Kagami away from him despite the painful way it pulls his wounds.

“I was admiring your eyes,” Kagami laughs, not at all ashamed of his actions, “you weren’t paying attention and they’re pretty.”

“Do you have any idea how jarring it is to find an Uchiha staring into my eyes?” Tobirama demands, his body protesting at keeping his still injured muscles tensed for too long.

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Kagami mutters, at least having the decency to flush in embarrassment, “sorry.”

Tobirama just nods, neither accepting nor outright rejecting the apology.

“Anyway I can’t stay any longer, Mada-nii will worry since the Senju are restless today,” Kagami explains as he stands up and brushes his clothes off. “I know why but it’s not like I can tell anyone without one of us getting hurt.”

“Just don’t engage them,” Tobirama requests, wishing he was well enough to travel, “I’ll try and rejoin them tomorrow.”

“You’re still too wounded!” Kagami protests, his eyes dropping to all the bandages on the Senju’s torso and the worrying gash on one leg.

“I need Hashirama to get the poison out of my system or I’ll die,” Tobirama points out, “I’m sure you noticed it’s chakra resistant; Anija’s Mokuton can get around that.”

Kagami is silent for a long moment before he wordlessly hands Tobirama the storage scroll he’d brought with and bolts.

Kagami runs from the cave, ignoring the nagging voice telling him to go back and protect his omega; Tobirama wasn’t even his yet! He knew it was a little underhanded to keep hiding his status from the Senju, but revealing he was an alpha when the other’s heat scent had been muted enough to ignore would have just put Tobirama needlessly on edge. Plus it was kinda cute how Tobirama thought he was so young; he was only a year younger than Izuna but clearly the Senju didn’t know that. Coming to the river, Kagami takes a deep breath and looks down at the bloody cloth in his hands; he’d swiped Tobirama’s ruined shirt before he left. Tearing a chuck off, Kagami ties it to the end of a kunai and whips it into the Senju land as far as he can. Now he just had to wait for a Senju to pick up Tobirama’s scent and track it this way, he wasn’t sure who he hoped it would be.

Kagami doesn’t have to wait long, the scent of a furious alpha alerting him to Hashirama’s presence even before the trees start to shake in fear or anticipation, he can’t tell.

“Where. Is. He?” Hashirama demands, biting off each word harshly as his eyes hyperfocus on the shirt.

“Calm down or I’ll keep the omega,” Kagami snarls right back, his normally repressed instincts flaring to life at the clear challenge. Instead of calming the other alpha like he’d sort of hoped it would, Kagami grunts as he suddenly finds his skull bouncing off the ground and an immovable mass of muscle blanketing his smaller form.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Hashirama roars, tree roots twining around the Uchiha’s limbs.

“Nothing!” Kagami yelps, quickly wrapping himself in his Susanoo to force Hashirama back.

“What…?” Hashirama blinks in confusion, seeming to finally realize he’s facing Madara’s youngest brother for the first time.

“Are you calm?” Kagami asks warily, releasing his Susanoo to avoid Madara sensing it and bringing a war party.

“I think so?” Hashirama mutters, head tilting to the side like a curious bird, “I’m sorry but I need to find Tobirama, I don’t have time to fight with you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here,” Kagami explains, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, and allowing the protective alpha to visually see that his scent glands are still unmarked.

“I’m confused.”

“Are you alone?” Kagami asks and Hashirama nods, still not understanding the situation, “good, follow me.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Hashirama demands as he follows Kagami, though his tone just makes him sound pitiful, “have the Uchiha taken Tobirama?”

“No,” Kagami assures, carefully leading Hashirama toward the cave without running into any of the Uchiha scouting parties. “Someone poisoned him, he’s in bad shape and I can’t help him anymore than I have.” The two stop at the mouth of the cave and Kagami nods toward it. “He’s in there, I’m going to run interference for you, leave as soon as you can.”

Hashirama nods and runs into the cave, never once considering it could be a trap as Kagami runs in the opposite direction.

The next time Kagami meets Tobirama is on the battlefield and he’s both relieved to see him recovered and terrified by the glare the Senju sends him. He has a brief moment to try and figure out why Tobirama’s so pissed before he’s forced to block the omega’s blade.

“You lied.” The words are growled right in his face and suddenly Kagami understands. He hadn’t lied per se, merely withheld the truth, but now isn’t the time to discuss it. Pushing Tobirama back leaves Kagami’s arms trembling, omega or not Tobirama was still stronger than him. Kagami’s almost grateful when Touka bulldozes her way past the omega and lunges at him, leaving Izu-nii to go after Tobirama.

Touka wasn’t Kagami’s favorite Senju to fight, she was the overly brash type of alpha Madara had threatened to drown him in their koi pond if he ever turned into. He figured it was due to the Senju’s attitude on women, alpha or not, on the battlefield, so while he understood her behavior, it didn’t mean he liked fighting her. Just before he can truly lose himself in the battle, something makes Kagami turn to check on Izuna; Madara was clearly enjoying himself based on his chakra, so the youngest brother knew his bad feeling wasn’t about him. The sight of Tobirama ruthlessly cutting Izuna down greets him and not even Touka’s blade tearing through his own shoulder as he rushes for his older brother is enough to redirect his rage.

“You bastard!!!” Kagami snarls, forcing Tobirama back and away from his wrongly still brother. He feels wetness on his cheeks, but the Uchiha ignores it, his desire to make Tobirama pay his only focus right now.

“You deceived me,” Tobirama growls, his anger slamming right into Kagami’s own.

“What!?” Kagami pushes the Senju back with new found strength, how dare that pale bastard act like he had any right to be furious!

“You’re an alpha!”

“So you killed my brother!?” Kagami shouts, his Magekyo spinning to life behind his tears, “I tried to keep you calm while you were hurt and you fucking killed my brother!!”

That must stun Tobirama because Kagami manages to break through the Senju’s defenses and bury his sword in the other’s armor. Tobirama staggers back a few steps, his eyes widening as he meets Kagami’s glare.

“Next time we meet you’re dead.” The promise is spoken and then the elder brothers are there, Hashirama blathering on about peace while Madara is ordering a retreat. Kagami’s instincts rage about allowing an omega to order him around, but he quickly shakes it off as he glances back at Madara supporting their brother’s weight alone. He had more important things to deal with right now than hurt pride and rage without a proper target.

Tobirama can only stare at the place the Uchiha had been moments ago. Surely he didn’t mean that right? The Senju couldn’t ignore the way his instincts screamed at him that Kagami would be the perfect alpha for him, but now it seemed like he’d messed that up.

“Otouto?” Hashirama mutters, snapping Tobirama back to the present as warmth slowly spreads over the shallow wound Kagami had given him.

“I didn’t kill him,” Tobirama states quietly, because he needs someone to know that, “I could have, but I didn’t.”

Hashirama is silent for a long moment as he really looks over his younger brother, wanting to make sure the physical injuries are taken care of before he tackles the mental ones. “Were you thinking about courting him Otouto?” Hashirama can’t help but ask, a little giggle slipping free when Tobirama’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Of course not, he’s an Uchiha.” The response is expected but it lacks the usual heat Hashirama has come to expect when his brother talks about Uchiha.

“An Uchiha that saved you,” Hashirama points out, “and made sure I could find you.”

“He’s still an Uchiha.”

Hashirama doesn’t stop Tobirama as the omega leaves the clearing, he knew his brother needed some time to process his feelings. He could only hope the trees would alert him before his otouto inevitably tried something stupid. Shaking the thoughts from his head, Hashirama catches up with the rest of his war party.

Kagami can only stare helplessly at Madara as they wait for the medics to reveal Izuna’s fate. “I had the chance to kill him Aniki, but I didn’t…” The alpha finally mutters, unable to take the silence anymore, “I am so sorry...if Izu-nii dies it’s all my fault!”

“Kagami…” Madara startles when his baby brother suddenly bursts into tears but he quickly pulls him close and runs his fingers through Kagami’s curly locks. “Shh Otouto...it’s not your fault…”

“I should have killed him!”

“That would have made you no better than Tajima.”

The words break through the cloud of grief and Kagami finally meets his brother’s eyes. He can tell Madara is just as worried as he is, but he’s putting on a brave face because that’s what an older brother does, what a clan leader does. Before Kagami can try and come up with a response, the door opens the medic steps out of Izuna’s room.

“How bad is it?” Madara asks, though it’s clear he’s really asking how soon he needs to start funeral arrangements.

“All his ribs on the left side of his body are broken and he’ll have to remain off the battlefield for the foreseeable future but he should make a full recovery.”

“What?” Kagami murmurs, just barely audible, afraid anything louder will shatter this beautiful illusion.

“It’s more like he was struck with a blunt object than a sword,” the medic explains as he gestures for the two to go into the room, “but I have no idea why a Senju would do that.”

Kagami has an idea but he doesn’t allow himself to even consider it as he and Madara rush in to see Izuna. The middle brother is still unconscious but it’s clear he’s not on death’s door like they thought he was.

“Thank the sage,” Madara breaths in barely more than a whisper as he drops to his knees beside the futon, “I swear to Indra himself I’m going to dunk you so hard in the koi pond once you’re okay.”

“Aniki,” Kagami laughs as he sits beside his brother. The two just watch over Izuna, needing to see him awake to confirm he’s fine. Some time later, Izuna’s eyes start to twitch and they watch him intently, waiting with bated breath.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Izuna whines, jerking awake as the pain hits him, “did that bastard break all my ribs?!”

“Only half of them,” Kagami supplies helpfully, just grinning when Izuna glares at him, “you’re not dead.”

“I should be though…”

Madara and Kagami share a look before the clan head fills Izuna in on what happened. Kagami flushes as he realizes how badly he overreacted; sage above he’d been such an ass to Tobirama when the omega had actually spared his brother. Deciding he needs to set things straight right away, Kagami sneaks out when his brothers are distracted and heads for the river where he can faintly sense Tobirama.

“Have you come to kill me?” Tobirama asks, his eyes never leaving the river he’s seated by.

“You could have killed him…” Kagami mutters, and finally the Senju looks up at him, his beautiful red eyes clouded over with too many emotions to try and decipher.

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I did not.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t take advantage of me,” Tobirama explains as he slowly stands up, never once reaching for the sword carefully placed next to him, “you could have forced a bond between us, but you didn’t.”

“Of course not,” Kagami agrees, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “no decent person would.”

“Some would,” Tobirama points out, looking anywhere but Kagami’s face as he talks, “I was hurt that you lied to me but that doesn’t mean I would return your kindness with Izuna’s death.”

“I didn’t intentionally lie,” Kagami points out because now is the time to have this discussion, “I had just come from a mission and my scent suppressor hadn’t worn off yet. I should have told you I was an alpha, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let me help if you knew the truth.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Tobirama begrudgingly admits, “but how come my heat didn’t affect you? Is my scent that repulsive?”

“No!” Kagami yelps, not wanting Tobirama to think that, “your suppressant was still partially working and the smell of poison was overpowering.”

“Oh…”

The two lapse into silence as they process the new information. The day’s events finally crash into Kagami, overwhelming relief making him sway on his feet. Tobirama catches him instantly and pulls him close. A calming, almost sweet, scent washes over him and it takes Kagami a moment to realize it’s coming from Tobirama. “You smell nice.”

“I ran out of my suppressant,” Tobirama admits grumpily, even as he leans down to inhale Kagami’s own smoky scent, “though I’d be lying if I said I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Why?” Kagami asks, taking a step back once he’s sure his own legs will support him again, so he can really look at Tobirama; the omega was so much prettier now that he wasn’t half dead.

“I...you smell nice too.” Tobirama mumbles, shuffling awkwardly as he flushes.

“Are you saying you wish to court?” Kagami questions, unable to keep the hope and joy out of his tone, especially when Tobirama doesn’t immediately say no.

“You still want me?” Tobirama asks, his tone smaller than Kagami’s ever heard it and the alpha just grins.

“Of course I want you! I’ve liked you ever since you fished me out of the river when were kids!” Kagami smirks at the lovely blush that spreads over Tobirama’s face, “and it's just my luck that you became even prettier as you grew up.”

“Shut up,” Tobirama huffs, yanking Kagami forward for a kiss.

A moan slips free as Kagami kisses back, finally getting to taste the omega he’d wanted even when he thought Tobirama was an alpha. The Senju pulls back much too soon and Kagami whines, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Tobirama, so he can’t runaway.

“Our brothers are coming!” Tobirama hisses, not sure how he feels when Kagami just shrugs and pulls him impossibly closer.

“So what?” Kagami asks with a raised eyebrow, “if they don’t understand that you belong to me, then they will learn.”

Tobirama wants to protest, but a heated pair of lips meets his and suddenly he can’t remember why their brothers finding out is a bad idea. That is until Hashirama and Madara crash through the trees like a couple of bulls.

“Get away from my otouto!” Madara screams, lunging for Tobirama since the two shinobi are closest to the Uchiha side of the river.

“Isn’t this great Madara!?” Hashirama exclaims excitedly, intercepting Madara and pulling him into a bear hug. “We can finally have our peace! After all even you wouldn’t make a bonded pair fight, would you?”

“Let me go you stupid stump!!” Madara roars, struggling vainly against the larger Senju, “they aren’t bonded yet.”

“Yeah isn’t it great Aniki?” Kagami asks with a shit eating grin as he steps in front of Tobirama, “you can finally get the alpha you’ve been pining over for years!”

“KAGAMI!!!!”

Kagami just cackles as he grabs Tobirama’s arm and runs in the opposite direction, trusting Hashirama to keep a good hold on his brother until he finds out the truth.

As the two run, Tobirama can’t help but roll his eyes as he watches Kagami laugh; the Uchiha’s entire face is practically glowing with happiness and that makes Tobirama grin. He finally had an alpha he could stand, a cute one at that, and he couldn’t wait to see what their future held.

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wickkedstar · 5 years ago

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back in writing

dearest readers,

my life has been a bit of chaos

since I’ve last written my previous post, I have struggled with an end of a destructive relationship with someone who I thought was my soulmate, but he has turned out to be somebody who just wished to hurt me very deeply. I got together with this guy, when I was 19 years old, and our relationship has been very on and off for the past three years. the way it came to an end was such drama, and so hurtful for me.. I can understand how he has been hurt too, but I wish there were more peaceful ways to have handled the conflict we had. on his end especially, this past couple of months I never knew a guy could make a girl cry so much! however on the bright side, is that without the heavy emotions of heartbreak and being treated poorly, I have been feeling so free in my soul and full of bloom in my heart. before, I felt trapped, waiting to be loved by someone I had so much hope to have a future with, to share my life with. but with all this space to feel good now, I have a whole world open to me - as a lovely young woman worthy of love and respect, as an artist free of shame and troubles, and most of all as all of us, a human worthy of true humanity. and I know i wasn’t an angel to begin with. our relationship began quite shortly after I experienced trauma that I went through at 19, relating to my very first writing post ‘realrollergirl gone raw.’ around my 19th birthday, I ended up in a bad situation where I was drugged and raped and the feeling of not being able to stand on my feet to get away, and how I wish I could forget it all, to have never had that happen to me. No young woman should ever go through that. and it is because of that and so many other instances that now I am so protective of myself and others, so ready to say it how it is to the faces of abusers.

it was just a couple weeks after that, that I had gotten in a relationship with this guy. he is only a year or so older than me. throughout our relationship, I have hurt him so many times with my instability mentally and not being faithful to him. lying, and hiding things. having the mentality of making money using my body, not really thinking about the shoots I was doing and the people I worked with, how it made me feel. I want to be honest about this because, for many girls who get into the world of sex-work, there is usually a boyfriend who discourages that, and there is always an opposing view to that dynamic, which I have multiple perspectives on. I agree with the quote/statement, “If you think sex workers "sell their bodies," but coal miners do not, your view of labor is clouded by your moralistic view of sexuality. “ because it does have to do with a moralistic view of sexuality if a boyfriend/whoever begins to talk shit about women doing sex work, but there is some truth that the sacrifice there is to be had is not fully voluntary or healthy for sex workers, of younger age especially. to convince yourself that you need to be naked and have whatever you want to be done to your body from somebody you’re not attracted to, to get money for it, can be a dangerous limit to push for the spiritual mind. it can come from an unhealthy place, and I have experienced that. With the help of the relationship I was in with this guy, I have learned how to distinguish what is truly healthy and what isn’t. but I’ve always come to the conclusion, that sex cinema done well is art, and that women (and men, and all other genders) who feel empowered by their sex work may not be sacrificing their spiritual health at all. and I speak from my perspective as a woman, from my personal experience and understanding, but I know that this applies to all human kind and all genders! the freedom that is there to be felt is real, powerful and beautiful, it is not immoral at all. there are levels of depths within how you work with people and their sexualities, getting financial stability from sex work and that not being the sole motivator. the reality is different, but equal in the sense of the mindfulness that is needed as with any other career choice, to have the balance of your success and health. I fully encourage sex workers who are aware of healthy dynamics and dysfunctional dynamics, and who find happiness in fulfilling the desires of others! my own experience has been confused with being in a monogamous relationship with someone who did not always meet my needs, and would be judgmental about the modeling I was doing, and I should have realized how much happier I could be and I should have left sooner than have stayed and cheated on him. to a degree he encouraged me to grow towards a direction that made me question my self-destructive patterns, but as far as my mind knows, naturally, sexuality must hold no shame. Often I was having a hard time to communicate with him about what I wanted to explore in different times of my life, and it was never something intimate and emotional with someone else, the times where I cheated on him I was curious about someone else’s sexuality, and I really do wish we could have had that monogamous relationship where we shared everything with each other and never made one another feel bad or jealous, and still somehow not fully monogamous but not quite polyamorous, because I don’t feel like i am able to be emotionally available to more than one person. he was not okay with me cheating on him sexually, and I made so many mistakes, regretfully. it is now that the point has come that he got in so many arguments with me towards the end of our relationship, about not wanting to meet my needs or take care of me. he would always justify hurting me with the reality that I’ve cheated on him. the arguments would lead to him reacting with anger and a couple times with physical violence, and that’s really where i could not be with him anymore and felt happier without him. as that transition happened, I had discovered through social media that he was with another girl, and the following day met up with him. he told me that he has always had feelings for her, so and so and so... I told him I don’t think he and I could ever be together again, and he said he was ok with that. for about a week i have cried, wondered, what in the world is this world, how often he said hurtful things and hurt me out of lack of love and respect towards me, these past months... only to move on to this new relationship. just a month or so ago, he was talking with his mother about marrying me, and having kids with me. there were points he expressed forgiveness for the hardships that we went through because of what I did. I had hope that this soulmate, was really who I could grow with and bloom with. and I’m sure he had that hope too, but somewhere along the way he was not always honest with himself if he really loved me or not. and now that everything has shown its true colors, perhaps I should be thankful, but if he tries to come back in my life - if I was as a friend implied, his ‘back up’ - I will say no, no no no... My rainbows are not painted upside down just to see how it looks like from the top of the sky

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itsmarianstories · 5 years ago

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They call me kitty🐾

[Jikook Social Media Au]

Part 27: Hunt >> Part 28: Monster

Jungkook is a bratty college student, who stumbles through life, trying to find his way. He is attractive and he knows it, so he is used to getting whoever he wants. Until a certain cute boy walks into his life with swaying hips and fluttering lashes, who seems completely unimpressed by Jungkook. However, being the stubborn boy that he is Jungkook refuses to give up just yet, not knowing that with that he has already become a figure in Jimins game of life.

(A/N: Just a short warning, this contains a bit of violence/ threat of violence, things that come with a kidnapping)

Jimin was angry, no furious. He was filled with so much rage, it was burning under his skin like a volcano that was ready to burst. But he couldn't lose control now, he had to stay somewhat calm and collected. They needed a plan, he had to lead his people. There was no time for anger tantrums. He took a deep breath, and another one, and another one before he finally pushed open the heavy metal doors to their conference room.

He was greeted by bright light but the sunglasses on his nose protected him from flinching. He pushed his hair back and walked towards the big table in the middle of the room. His three best men were already seated around it, all of them were staring at him now. He knew that at least Yoongi was already questioning him. Joon would probably be understanding enough and Tae always took his side, just out of principle but still. It was driving him insane but he couldn't disappoint. If word spread about him risking the business for a boy toy he'd lose all loyal partners.

"Don't fucking look at me like that. Show me the cameras, Yoongi." He demanded. His voice was already strained from his previous night out. He was fucking tired but the burning under his skin didn't let him rest. Yoongi reacted quickly. On his chair he rolled over to a laptop that was connected to several screens that decorated the wall to the left. Jimin flopped down on the chair at the head of the table and lifted his legs on it, his eyes focused on the screens. Multiple camera views appeared, some were completely black, some only showed a grey flickering but more than enough showed different rooms. Jimin could make out three rooms that didn't seem to have a purpose, in two rooms he saw just a bunch of men lounging around. There were two lab rooms where obviously the drugs were made. But all those weren't of any interest for Jimin. His eyes were trained on four rooms. His hands balled into fists.

Two of those rooms were weapon warehouses as it seems, all kinds of guns, riffles, even granates were stocked up on rusty tables and shelves. Then there was a room in which five half naked women were cowering on old, crusty mattresses. The cameras were pretty shitty and the view pixelated but Jimin could see enough to know that these women were most definitely not there on their own free will. The last room showed a dead body as Jimin supposed, he was laying on the floor in an unhealthy angle and not moving at all.

“There were two before.” Yoongi said as he saw what Jimin was looking at. “But they already cleaned one up. I don’t even wanna know what they hide in the rooms with the broken cameras.” Jimin flicked his tongue and stood up. He pulled pink leather gloves and slowly put them on.

“Well,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl. “Let’s go hunting.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Meanwhile

Jeongguk whimpered and struggled against his restraints. He can’t believe this is really happening, it feels like a nightmare but whatever he does he can’t wake up. Thick, rough ropes were chaining his arms to the back of the cold metal chair he was sitting on. His ankles were chained to the legs of the chair as well. Every time he tried to move or wriggle around it did nothing but cut deeper into his skin. His whole body was shivering, not only from fear but also the cold. He was only wearing grey sweatpants and a white T-Shirt and the air in this--- bunker or wherever he is, is humid and icy.

He doesn’t really understand what is going on, what these people want from him. He can just guess that it has something to do with Jimin. Would Jimin even search for him? Would he even care? Jeongguk has no idea what he is for Jimin and the thought that the older might leave him here to die hurts more than the ropes cutting into his skin.

It’s so dark that Jeongguk can’t see anything at all, the only sound is his heavy breathing and occasional whimpers that resonate from the walls around him. He doesn’t know for how long he already sat here. For him it felt like hours but it might as well just have been minutes. Not knowing what he is waiting for is the worst of all. Will they kill him? Torture him? Just leave him here forever? His head felt ready to explode, probably from where those guys hit him unconscious to stop him from putting up a fight while they dragged him out of the building. He wondered if any of their neighbours saw anything and maybe called the police. There was this tiny spark of hope that someone would come and save him. He would try to escape but he couldn’t move at all or see anything.

Jeongguk was feeling dizzy, he was drifting in and out of consciousness when suddenly clicking noises came from the other side of the room. His heartbeat picked up and a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his body as a door opened. The bright light that suddenly flooded the room hurt his eyes so bad he had to scrunch them shut and tried to turn his head away from the light but a hand suddenly fisted into his hair and pulled his head up. He blinked until his eyes got used to the light and he looked into the face of a man who looked slightly older than him.

“Are you finally awake?” The man snarled and released his hair. The man took a step back. “You look pathetic, I wonder what Kitty sees in you.” Jeongguk gulped. So it really was about Jimin. He looked around the room, now that the light allowed him to see where he was. It was a bare room, the walls cut into rough stone. some rusty pipes run across the wall next to him. In front of the door stood three more men, Jeongguk could clearly make out the guns that were tucked into the front of their pants. He gulped and looked to the man in front of him again.

“Do you know why you are here?” The man asked. He had poorly dyed blonde hair and a big scare that went from his left cheekbone down to his neck. He had a skull tattooed on his temple and the word dragon curling around his neck. Jeongguk weakly shook his head. He has never been so terrified before in his life. The man pulled a chair to the middle of the room, in front of Jeongguk and sat down on it. He threw one leg over the other and just stared Jeongguk down for a while. Jeongguks eyes nervously jumped around the room. What would they do to him.

“You got yourself involved with the wrong people. You should have kept your dick to yourself.” Jeongguk wanted to run away and hide so badly. He felt like a child all over again.

“You see, Kitty and I, we have a long, long history. I made him to who he is today, everything he achieved was because of me. He owes me his life. Can’t say I appreciate that he tried to force me out of the city. He is an ungrateful, little piece of shit." Jeongguk wonders how that connects to him and if it would be a good idea to ask. Just what do they want from him? But the man already continues to speak.

"But of course, I'm not letting some C-class slut take over my city. I admit that I struggled at first, but that was only because he stole me everything. Now, I'm just getting back what's mine. For that, however, I need to get rid of that bastard. And that's why you are here, you are the mouse in our little game. The bait for the bad kitty." The man sounded so ridiculous that Jeongguk would have scoffed if he wasn't so terrified right now.

"Kitty likes to pretend that he is in control and that nothing gets to him, but I know him. I’ve seen him at his worst. In reality he's just a poor, insecure, pathetic little piece of trash. I'm sure he'll come for you, we'll just have to wait here. And once he and his lapdogs arrive I'll make him watch as I let each and everyone be killed and you'll be the last." Jeongguks blood froze. "Oh I can't wait for that face of his, can't wait to see those broken eyes again as I take everything of him that matters to him." The man smiled to himself, he truly looked like he was looking forward to it. As if he was talking about his birthday party and not destroying somebody else's life. Is that really how it's gonna be? Will they really make Jimin watch as they kill him? Another wave of panic washes over him. He's only twenty, he can't die yet. There is so much he still wants to do, so much he thought he had time for. Adrenaline rushes through his veins and he, once again, tries to struggle against the ropes. The man sees and laughs.

"Don't even try, there is no way you can get out of those." He says. "Why don't we talk a bit, huh? I know that you and Kitty spend a lot of time together, you have to know some things. If you behave and cooperate, I'll kill you nice and quick. A shot in the head, boom, over. No pain, nothing. However, if you'd rather be a little shit--- just know that I can be really creative in ways of making someone suffer. It's on you."

And that's that. Jeongguk sobs. He thinks those action movies where the protagonists stay cool and collected in such situations are dumb. No one can stay calm in this kind of situation. Jeongguk has to think about his family and friends, all the people that matter to him and that he can never see again. He hasn't talked to his parents in a while, they aren't on the best terms but he is sure that his mother will be devastated. He thinks about Seokjin and Hoseok, they will be so mad. They warned him and he didn't listen, he knew Jimin was bad news but he ignored it. He didn't think it would come to this. Tears and snot drip down his face but since his hands a tied he can't wipe it away. A tiny gasp escapes him when all four men in the room start laughing at him, right into his face.

"Look at that motherfucker, look how he's weeping like a baby. You and Kitty really are one hell of a duo." The man in front of him wheezes. Jeongguk never felt more humiliated in his life. His body is still shaking but those men just keep making fun of him. Suddenly his fear turns into fury. How fucking dare they. Who gave them the fucking right to walk around and play with other people's life's? Jeongguk presses his jaws together and balls his hands to fists. He doesn't even think about it when he spits on the ground, right in front of the man's feet. The laughter stops within second and something dark and dangerous lights up in the guys eyes.

"Oh?" He made, challenging. "Are you already done crying? Gotta say something, huh?" Jeongguk glares at him angrily and presses his lips to a thin line. The man lifts his hands and it comes down to Jeongguks cheek with a loud slapping sound that echoes through the room. Jeongguk can taste blood in his mouth but he refuses to give him the satisfaction of whimpering again.

"Don't fuck with me, dude. Unless you wanna experience real pain." He gruffs into Jeongguks face and gives his head another shove.

"Come on, what do you know about Kitty, huh? What are his dirty little secrets? What is he scared of? Where does he keep his money?" When Jeongguk doesn't answer the man slaps him again.

"If you know what's good for you, you better start talking." Even if Jeongguk knew anything -which he doesn't- he'd never tell this guy anything. However, just seconds later his blood runs cold when the man says.

"Yo, Jason, gimme your knife."

...

(A/N: Whoops, cliffhanger anyone?)

#bts #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #social media au #jikook social media au #jikook #kookmin #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kitty gang au #kitty gang au 27 #ggukienet

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aerinmelina · 5 years ago

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New Beginnings

The unintended sequel to this oneshot here. (oops)

This one is a gift fic for @fairykam. <3 :) You’re wonderful and amazing and a great friend, and I hope your weekend is fantastic!

DRAGONWATCH 1 & 2 SPOILERS LIE HERE.

Kendra couldn’t sleep.

She sat in a chair next to the bed where Bracken laid, resting peacefully as she held his hand. He had yet to wake for more than a minute or two at a time. Every time he did stir, though, it was with a sudden jerk and a panic as he tried to assess where he was and – Kendra assumed – to figure out if he was safe. She calmed him at every occurrence; his last upset had been several hours ago, so she was hoping he would be alright.

It must’ve been getting somewhere close to dawn by now. Kendra released Bracken’s hand and stretched her arms and legs, longing to exercise a bit to relieve the tension she felt.

The door opened and Warren peeked his head inside. “Hey,” he began. “Why don’t you go for a walk? I’ll stay here with him.”

Kendra glanced back at Bracken and bit her lip. What if he woke up again, and she wasn’t there to help him?

Warren would be there. He would help.

But what if he needed more healing? What if he needed her magical abilities?

“I don’t think so…” she hesitantly replied.

Warren rolled his eyes and walked completely inside the room. “Let me rephrase,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. He guided her to stand, then led her to the door. “You’re taking a break, you worrywart.”

“But Warren—”

“Don’t ‘but Warren’ me,” he insisted. “Bracken is fine. He’s just resting. You need to get out of this room. Go breathe some fresh air. Maybe get something to eat.”

She put her hand on the door frame and twisted her body around so she could get another look at the sleeping unicorn. He did look like he was just resting, and his coloring was much more normal than it’d been when he’d first arrived.

Kendra sighed, then looked up at Warren who was clearly not going to let her back in. “Call for me if he wakes up?” she asked.

“Sure,” he replied, then rubbed the top of her head and messed up her hair. She gave him an exasperated sigh and swatted at his hand in response, but truth be told… she was glad to have him there with her. Warren would take good care of their injured friend.

With one last glance at Bracken, Kendra left the room and went to bathe and change her clothes. She emerged feeling somewhat refreshed, but still couldn’t shake the anxious feelings that she’d been harboring for days (weeks, really). In an effort to try and calm her mind enough to hopefully sleep for a few hours, she decided to go for a walk. The towers and walls of Blackwell Keep were poorly lit at night; however, that was hardly a problem for her. Plus, daybreak wasn’t too far off – the sky was already lightening a little.

Two minutes into walking, she ran across someone else who was sitting on the ground, staring out at the slowly diminishing stars.

Her brother.

Seth.

Her heart gave an achy lurch.

He noticed her approach. Neither of them said anything to the other for a moment, and then Seth broke the silence and returned his gaze to the sky.

“You couldn’t sleep, either?” he asked.

“No,” Kendra said. She didn’t want to intrude on his solitude, but at the same time, she longed for his company. No matter how potentially painful the experience turned out to be… she needed to talk to him. “Is it alright if I sit with you?” she asked.

Seth looked like he hadn’t expected her request. “Sure,” he answered, gesturing to the ground next to him. She accepted his invitation and leaned her back against the wall behind them, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“The sun will be rising soon,” Kendra commented, trying to start a conversation.

“Yeah,” came Seth’s short reply.

“The view from here is really nice. You picked a good spot.”

“Cool.”

A somewhat awkward silence fell between them. Kendra didn’t know what to say. The last time they’d seen each other (minus yesterday afternoon which didn’t really count because it was so chaotic and Kendra had been wholly consumed with worry for her sick unicorn) was when Seth had nearly taken Bracken’s first horn away from her. He’d actually chosen to leave it with her – an act which had clearly surprised them both.

Come on, Kendra… think of something…

“What was it like?” she asked. “Being around Ronodin so much?”

Seth turned his head toward her, as if trying to gauge her intentions, and then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t really have anything to compare it to.”

Kendra considered his statement and tried to ignore the way that comment hurt her heart a little more. He didn’t remember love. “Was he nice to you?” she asked.

Seth shrugged again. “I think so,” he answered. “He taught me a lot about being a Shadow Charmer. Made sure I wasn’t hungry. I had a comfortable place to sleep. And he didn’t hurt me.”

“But?” Kendra prompted. Her brother sounded conflicted.

“He told me I was his brother,” Seth continued. “When I found out that he was a unicorn, I asked him how we could be brothers since I’m human, and he said he’d rescued me a long time ago and we’d chosen to be brothers. I don’t know. Something about the way he said it just… seemed strange to me, I guess.”

“Strange?”

“He kept telling me things about myself that could be true, I guess, but I’m not sure. Maybe I really was like that before I forgot everything. I don’t feel that way now, though.”

“What do you mean?” Kendra was genuinely curious to know what kinds of lies Seth had been told.

Seth paused for a moment before continuing. “He didn’t help people. No… more than that. I did some things that hurt people. It didn’t… it didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t feel right. But he was my brother, and he knew what was best, right?”

He seemed to be genuinely asking Kendra that question. She thought carefully about her response before she delivered it. “Well… you already know where I stand,” she started. “Ronodin is a liar, and you’re actually my brother. By blood.” She shifted her position so that her legs rested straight out in front of her. “We’ve always lived together. I don’t even remember a time when you weren’t part of my life. We’re less than two years apart in age.”

Seth appeared to be listening intently, clinging onto every word she said. “What made you decide to leave Ronodin?” she asked.

He shook his head as though to derail his train of thought. “Uh… Bracken helped, actually. He was patient, and he encouraged me to think twice about everything. He corroborated your story. And he told me that I was a hero.”

“You are,” Kendra confirmed instantly. Seth shot her an expression which clearly told her that he wasn’t sure he believed her, then continued talking.

“I already had doubts about Ronodin, and talking with Bracken kind of added to those doubts. Ronodin does what he wants. It just doesn’t feel right.

“And then he wanted me to take the unicorn from you. I didn’t think I’d have a hard time with that. He told me that you’d stolen it from him in the first place; I was just going to take back what was rightfully his. But you… You were helpless. Defenseless. And you begged me not to take it away. You told me it was Bracken’s horn, not Ronodin’s. You were so earnest. You seemed so… genuine. I couldn’t take it from you. Not without getting some of my questions answered first.”

“How did Ronodin react?”

Liar. Thief.

Seth crossed his legs and forcefully rubbed his face, then ran his hands through his hair. “He was furious.”

“Did he… did he hurt you?”

I will kill him if he did.

“No,” Seth said. Then he added, “I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me about… about me. Us. Our family. Please.”

Kendra almost pushed him for more details, but the pleading look in his eyes forced her hand. She dropped the subject.

“Well… our family lived in Rochester until a couple of years ago. You were always getting into trouble, ever since I can remember. Mom always said that you were too curious for your own good. Dad always said that he didn’t know what he was going to do with you.”

“What kind of trouble?”

She smiled. “All sorts. Well… not like drugs and stuff. More like… pranks, and general disobedience. You’d get caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing, and then you’d try and argue your way out of punishment. Your arguments didn’t usually work, but you did get away with some things once or twice… which probably didn’t help. Mom told you that you should become a lawyer when you grow up.”

He’s listening. To everything.

“We used to fight a lot. Mostly about stupid stuff. But… things changed a few years ago. We stopped fighting each other and started fighting together against other people. We were a real team.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t help it. It’d been too long since she’d spoken with her brother, and while having him here with her was comforting, it also hurt her that he had no memory of her and everything they’d gone through together.

Seth looked at his toes. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

Kendra shook her head. “No, no… it’s okay,” she replied. “I’m just… it’s hard. You’re my best friend, Seth. My brother and my best friend. You drive me crazy and you’re impulsive and you always have to learn lessons the hard way, but you also care so much about other people. You’ve always had a heart. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much, it hurts.”

“I guess I don’t really know what to say,” Seth stated after a brief pause. “I want to believe you. I want to believe that I’m a good person. But, Kendra…” he trailed off. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.”

Ronodin will pay.

“It’s not your fault that you’ve been manipulated. He took advantage of your situation. I know who you really are. You’re kind and brave and reckless and so loud. You’re so curious that I’m pretty sure the cat died like 27 lives ago. And you love to tease and torment me… but you’re also reliable and confident. You’re loyal, honest, dependable and creative. You’re my brother. I swear to you, you’re my brother, and whatever you’ve done or think you’ve done, that’s not you. It’s not the real you. I swear it.”

“I want to help people.”

“Yes. That’s you. The real you. That’s the Seth Sorenson I grew up with.”

“Sorenson?”

Stab my heart.

“Our last name,” Kendra clarified.

“Seth Sorenson,” he repeated, feeling how the words rolled off his tongue.

“The one and only,” she stated. “There’s no one else like you in this world, and I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my brother anyway.”

Seth smiled at her – a small, hesitant one, but a smile no less. “Well… it might be nice to have a sister for a change,” he teased. Kendra reached out a hand and lightly shoved his shoulder.

The siblings sat in silence and watched as the sun finally rose above the horizon. They still had a long way to go, and more bridges to build between them, but Kendra had the feeling that they were off to a good start. She noticed that her heart felt less heavy than it had an hour or two ago.

Her brother was back. He may not remember her, but he was safe. She’d help him get his memories back, and they’d make new ones along the way. And if he never regained his memories? Well… he was her brother. She would never stop trying to help him.

#fablehaven #dragonwatch #kendra sorenson #seth sorenson #aerinm writes #kendra and seth bonding fic #with a little bit of brackendra at the beginning i suppose #and also some warren bc he's awesome #gift fic

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ashandboneca · 5 years ago

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Unsolicited Criticism

So a few years ago, I dealt with some criticism in my personal life over my choices. I’m a NB queer witch who is (not legally) married to two people. It was a bit of a thing, but it has ended my relationship with an extended family member. I had some other things happening in another sect of my more immediate family that I did not agree with, but I held my tongue (because it’s none of my business) which was kind of weird as well.

So I got to thinking, because I like to take things like people being assholes and turn it into a lesson that can apply to other people and other situations. There should be a way to turn something wretched into something you can learn from. It’s not about putting a positive spin on things - sometimes, things just suck and there is no turning that frown upside-down. It’s about taking the situation, removing the emotion from it, and using it as a blueprint for other, similar situations so you can have a plan for how to deal with these things that crop up in the future.

I thought it might be a good thing to talk about dealing with unsolicited criticism and opinions about your choices, your life, and your craft.

I really believe that the choices we make in this life are ours to make. I think too many people are willing to stick their noses into things they have no business being wrapped up in, and it causes more grief than it is worth. Everyone feels their opinion is valid, important, and needed. This is not always the case.

People should ask themselves these four questions before the open their mouths/type away on their keyboards:

- is it true?

- is it kind?

- is it needed?

- is it something I need to say?

Opinions or criticism should have some grain of truth to them. They should be constructive (aka kind). They should be necessary - and actually necessary, not just because you feel ‘it’s the right thing to say’, and it should be something that you feel you are required to impart to the party receiving it.

How do you know if it fulfills these simple requirements?

Firstly, and always, you need to look at where the criticism/opinion is coming from. Is it someone you trust, or whose opinion you value? Is it some random stranger? Why do you think they are saying what they are saying? Have you decided to become a drug mule or join a crime family, or did you just get your hair cut short or paint your bedroom? Most times, when these things are coming from trusted people, like family members, they are coming from a place of love. Most times. Because they are family, there is a certain expectation that their opinion carries more weight. When your old Christian aunt is telling you that you are going to hell because if your beliefs, it could be coming from a place of love. It could also be coming from a place of condescension. Maybe auntie thinks your beliefs are stupid, or silly, of that you aren’t capable of making your own decisions? The key is learning to interpret the tone of their concern, and act accordingly.

My old Catholic grandmother, gentle soul that she is, told me at 14 that I was going to hell because I would not get confirmed. It was so matter of fact, with not a lick of condescension. She merely said she would pray for me, hugged me, and we both moved on with our lives. It came from a place of love. Previous drama came from a place of condescension and foolishness, and it was rebuked.

Secondly, use your own critical thinking skills and judgement to determine if the criticism/opinion holds any merit. Sometimes people around us try to present us with situations that we may be otherwise blind to. Maybe you’re culturally appropriating something and it’s offensive to the people around you and to that group. Maybe something you present online or in person is actually super racist. Maybe your practice includes some manner of hurtful or harmful practice, and people are concerned for your wellbeing. Maybe you’re mentally ill, and off your meds, and people are concerned for you. We can’t always see things that are right in front of us, and sometimes it takes an outside observer to clue us into what we may be missing. There are valid points in being criticized - we often learn from it in a beneficial way if it is constructive and seeks to better you as a person. Hell, a large portion of my schooling was learning to take constructive criticism, which is super important as an artist who works commercially. Not everyone is going to like what you present, or agree with your own opinions.

Thirdly, you have to realize that you have every right to disagree or rebuke the criticism/opinion. If someone is disagreeing with how you are practicing, you have every right to tell them to go pound sand. Depending on the source, you should be able to decide how you want to act. It also depends on how forceful or backward the opinion is - if the person is family but is holding a bigoted and hurtful opinion, you have every right to disagree with what they are saying, and explain to them how they are incorrect. Opinions are not factual - they are not immovable, or static. They are moveable and should be ever evolving. If they then refuse to alter their opinion, and choose to continue to hold a hurtful viewpoint - for example, they’re racist, homophobic, bigoted, sizeist, etc - you can make the choice to be willing to accept that as a part of who they choose to be, or move on in life without them.

Now, I have a pretty strict policy on just cutting people out of my life. Part of that reason being I spent a large portion of my life being a doormat and letting people treat me poorly. I decided a long time ago that life was better spent with those who can respect me and love me rather than out of obligation. Life is too short for bullshit. I know I am a good person who deserves to be treated with the dignity and respect I seek to treat others with. I will not lower my standards to expect any less. Second chances are given, but if someone wounds me badly enough, no amount of 'I’m sorry’ is gonna cut it. I can always forgive, but I have the memory of an elephant and I will never forget. (Short version: I know I’m a good person, and if you treat me like crap I will cut you.)

How you choose to proceed is your choice. Always know that as an adult, you have the choice to have a relationship of your choosing with family or friends. Some families suck, some people have had abusive upbringings or have been kicked out by parents, and it’s not feasible to maintain a relationship. There is no obligation - no one owes anyone anything. You owe your parents nothing - the gratitude for bringing you into the world and raising you is fine, but that was a choice they made in having you. Realizing that is liberating, and can also set you up to address issues and problems that could be hurting your relationship with family. It can help to form real and lasting bonds built on mutual respect and equal footing. The same goes with friends - they are people you choose to surround yourself with. How and what relationship you choose to have with them is just that - your choice. The quote 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’ comes to mind - we often build secondary families outside of our blood relations who we often have stronger bonds with because we can choose those people based on their merits and that they closely align with our own sensibilities. I have relatives that are crazy conservative, pro-life nut jobs, I have an aunt who physically and emotionally abused me as a child. I actively make the choice to disavow those people because we have no common ground to stand on - we are so vastly different there is no way to reconcile it. We are blood, but we are not family, if you get what I’m saying.

I should also point out that not every opinion should be aired. Sometimes, there are things you just need to keep to yourself. Yeah, okay, Susie’s hair does look like it was cut with a weed whacker, but telling her that will only hurt her and serves no purpose other than to be judgemental - maybe Susie likes her hair like that. Assuming you know better than Susie makes you a dick, because Susie is her own person and can do whatever she goddamn pleases with her hair. Maybe Joe’s altar looks tacky and cheap - still not your place to comment, because that’s Joe’s space and has nothing to do with you. Unless it involves the serious well being of someone or involves you directly, it may serve better to keep your opinions to yourself.

In the case of this criticism coming from an outside, anonymous source - I normally evaluate it, but often ignore it. It is hard to make personal judgements on someone without knowing who they are. If the person is actually making a really good point, even if it contrary to how I feel, I will take it under consideration and use my critical thinking to evaluate its usefulness. I try to approach all of my problems in a logical, matter-of-fact way. I often try and put myself in someone else’s shoes - like if I was an outside observer in the situation, how would I react? If you remove the emotion from the situation, and look at the words said and the intention behind them, you can get a fairly clear sense of what you should do.

I’m not advocating cut and run - not even remotely. I am advocating personal choice, and telling you that if you are an adult, it is okay to make that choice if it is better for your wellbeing overall. Don’t keep people around out of obligation - it serves neither of you any purpose, and just builds resentment. It breeds guilt and doubt. Cut the ties, move on, and maybe someday you can get to a point of reconciliation and trust again - people grow and change as life and circumstances change.

When you are expressing your own opinions, remember those four points - is it true, kind, needed, and are you the vehicle to impart it? It makes conversations and discussions a lot more functional, that’s for sure. Anything that can make socially awkward people communicate effectively deserves a high five or self five.

#ash and bone #ashandbone.ca #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #heathenry #the crooked path

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apparitionism · 6 years ago

Text

Helicobacter 17

Previously on Helicobacter, everything was right ridiculous. Regardless of whether the long and undisciplined unwinding of twists here has been entertaining, I’ve enjoyed the practice of putting it together. Free-associating was great; getting from that initial hellscape—poor JK!—to the koans to the raccoons. Et cetera. In sixteen prior installments! No actual pies were injured in the making of this story, which I think shows laudable restraint on my part. Oh, I did finally figure out how to get that one troublesome shoutout in, though you may find it a bit of a shoehorn. And there’s that one additional little backgroundy twisty twist near the end, one that calls back, in a whisper, to an earlier thing... anyway, it won’t be too long before I put some more words up; I’m working on a part of an older unfinished piece and may also float a couple trial balloons for new things. Stay tuned.

Helicobacter 17

“Are you sure you want me to put my shirt on?” Helena heard Myka ask. She had turned her back to allow Myka to change out of the hospital gown and back into her clothes—to enable Myka to do it, really, because Helena was in the end only human, and their physical relationship had not reached a point at which any sort of unclothing could be casually received—and now Helena was reminded of being in her kitchen, of listening to Myka’s disembodied voice explaining the plan, of having no effective way to respond to what was being said. “Trousers are next,” Myka went on, “but feel free to stop me anytime.”

“I am terrible at being good,” Helena said, resolutely not turning her head, “and so the universe gave me you. To test me, over and over again.”

Myka laughed. “Just so you fail every now and then. You can turn back around; all that’s left are my shoes.” Helena did then turn around, on some level expecting Myka to be naked, as one of those perpetual tests. Instead, she was in fact fully dressed, pulling a boot onto her right foot. Helena couldn’t hold back a little sigh of disappointment, and Myka laughed again. “What should I say in the note I leave my mom tonight?”

“What is so appealing to you about sneaking out? Is it the thrill of the forbidden? Should I worry that you’ll lose interest when both your mother and the overall prohibition are gone?”

“My honest answer about whether you should worry is, ‘how should I know?’ My hopeful answer is, ‘of course not.’ As for the sneaking out, it’s mostly for my mom’s benefit at this point. She doesn’t want to have to show how pleased she is to have the place—a place—to herself. Once in a while.”

Puzzling. “I thought your father took many fishing trips.”

“It’s only when Mom’s gone, really. He doesn’t say much about it, but he’s happiest when they’re together.” She finished with her boots, stood up, and began to tidy the bed. She looked over her shoulder at Helena. “Maybe you’ll want to go fishing only when I’m out of town.”

“I don’t know how to fish,” Helena said. She added a silent And now I don’t want to learn. But why keep silent? Why was her first instinct to censor such words? So she said, “And now I don’t want to learn.”

Myka turned back to the bed. She said a warm “Good.”

“Your father did invite me, however.”

A chuckle. “You should go, and Skype and Facetime and text and DM me every chance you get, on lots of different devices. Send me emails too. He’ll lose his mind.”

“What if I tell him about the aquatic abilities of raccoons?”

Myka spun around again, her mouth open in comic protestation. “I’ll never forgive you! I want to annoy him, not give him a heart attack. Besides, you should bear in mind that he’s the one who bought a very significant textbook lot.”

“My gratitude is stipulated.”

“Plus, and I realize this matters to me more than to us, he got me Georgeliot.”

“Under duress,” Helena noted.

Myka nodded. “Sometimes it takes a little duress for people to do the exactly-right thing.”

“So if I happen to come home some evening and am greeted not by you but by a large gaze of raccoons, I should assume there’s some right course of action I’ve failed to take?”

Myka pulled her into a half-embrace and bestowed a swift kiss, recalling the tactility of the rehearsal dinner. “I really like that you just said ‘come home.’”

Helena resolved to say “come home” far more often. “And not even under duress,” she said.

Another swift kiss. “I also really like that you know the collective noun for raccoons.”

“I like that you like that I know it.”

“I like that too.” Myka’s expression changed from affectionate to sly. “Want to sneak out of the hospital?”

“No.”

Myka pouted. “You are no fun at all.”

Rolling her eyes at the pout—which managed to be annoying and attractive at the same time—Helena said, “To test me, over and over again. And I’d like to add that that’s a ‘no’ in perpetuity, because—”

“No fun.”

“Will you let me finish? In perpetuity, because I don’t want to be in any hospital so as to have occasion to sneak out of it.”

The pout dissolved. “Oh. That’s reasonable.”

“Now call your mother back in here,” Helena said, “so we can get on with leaving, so we can get on with working—”

“And back to no fun,” Myka interrupted, herself back to the pout.

“And back to, will you let me finish? So we can get on with working, so the day can get on with ending, so you can then get on with sneaking out.”

Now the pout became a familiarly brilliant smile. “Oh. That’s even better than reasonable.”

The half-embrace became full.

****

When Helena opened her door to Myka after the promised, and much-anticipated, sneaking out, it was the hospital room again: no one lunged. Instead they looked.

One beat, two. Unhurried because there was at last no hurry? Or were they waiting for something?

Then Myka said, “This is different than before. Both times. Me standing here.”

“This is different than before,” Helena agreed. She glanced down at the ring on her finger, as if it might itself be the explanation.... it glittered back, wise and clear. A symbol, but not the cause, of everything that stood differently around them, how they stood differently before each other.

Myka spoke again. “Belief is a good look on you.” She took a slow breath. “Then again, I think just about everything’s a good look on you.”

On that, Helena’s memory barked a shin. “Wait. How do you know what I look like in a hardhat?”

“I have a vivid imagination,” Myka said. She stepped inside and kicked the door closed.

The kick was strong and deliberate, but not overpowering; Helena was able to respond, somewhat calmly, “While I know that’s true, I don’t believe it represents a truthful answer to my question.”

Myka’s mouth shaped into a languid smile. It was even more deliberate than the kick. “You really want to know? Fine. One morning Abigail was giving me grief about how she was going to be meeting you at the neighborhood site. This was right after the committee was formed, and I thought that maybe Steve would come with you, and that that would mean the whole committee was there, and I could pinpoint, and you’d be there too, so... you see how I thought the plan was going to come together. But as it turned out, no Steve.”

“So no pinpoint.”

“No pinpoint, and so I felt really silly, lurking around a corner like I was part of some pathetic, busted sting operation, ready with my camera and telephoto lens, but then there wasn’t a drug deal after all. Then again, I did get to hyperventilate about how irresistible you were in that hardhat.”

“But not irresistible.”

“No, seriously.”

“Perhaps seriously, but not literally. You resisted, did you not? Remained out of sight, around the corner?”

Myka paused. “Fine. You win.” She paused again. “But only in the short term.”

“I win only in the short term?”

“I resisted only in the short term. I mean, look at me.”

Helena obliged, and Myka wrapped her arm around Helena in her now-familiar loop, this time as a clear prelude to what would come next. “You do not appear to be the picture of resistance,” Helena acknowledged.

“Good. But obviously resistance was never really on the table. Case in point: that disaster with Ben, the guy in Accounting, happened right after my attempted ring bust.”

“The PTA-meeting fellow. The dressing-down.”

“Which was supposed to put the fear of god, or just shame and unemployment, squarely into all of us.”

“Instead you called me,” Helena said.

“See? I couldn’t resist. I remember you practically ripped my head off.”

“Abigail had made very clear to me that the situation was no longer abstract or humorous. given how you would react to such a public mortification... will you be all right with the consequences of the ‘truth’ about us becoming known now? Whatever those consequences may be?” Helena asked, out of genuine curiosity.

To her surprise, Myka laughed at that. “Given that a lot of the people I work with have both seen you and heard you, I might just get high fives rather than any metaphorical pies to the face.” She turned serious. “But regardless, even if I have to cringe my way through some of it, I’m going to remember that the real consequence is that our situation, yours and mine, doesn’t have to be abstract anymore.”

“Humorous, surely,” Helena said, pressing herself close into that bodily loop.

Myka smiled. “I hope so. But Abigail did try to make the gravity clear to me too. She shoved the ring at me, told me to take it and return it. I almost agreed to.”

“But?”

“But I realized that if it was in my possession again, I was going to track you down. Partially because you were so on fire to keep me out of trouble, and that was... well, irresistible.” She placed her lips softly against Helena’s temple: a gesture of proof. “I have to believe there’s a way out of any box, if you’re willing to work hard enough to find it. Even though that box, then, seemed to be collapsing on us.”

“Like a poorly constructed architectural model,” Helena said, but she thought of that sturdy little community center, flanked by those valiant trees. “You are persistent.”

“Maybe it was because I’d heard the word ‘cancer,’ but I knew what I wanted. Who I wanted. Really, at long last. It was such a relief.”

And Helena considered that Myka wasn’t wrong, not at all. She herself had received no such mortality shock, yet it was still a relief to know with such seeming clarity: this. It was also a relief, now, to be able to act on that knowledge unencumbered. “And at last we can—”

“Wait,” Myka said. “Grapefruit.”

“All right. Turnabout. I see. Interestingly, or not, it also involves a grief-giving from Abigail. It was when she and Steve koaned me. I don’t believe they were yet a committee...” The half-embrace was turning full again; Myka’s ‘wait’ was clearly not intended as any sort of prohibition, but Helena continued, “Abigail was having fun, asked what I liked for breakfast, rubbing in the fact that you and I did not, and would not, share it. ‘There is no grapefruit’ was said, to make me feel terrible.”

Helena realized she’d drawn her expression into severity only when Myka began kissing it gentle. “My poor baby,” she murmured.

The addition of “my.” Entirely right, yet entirely a surprise in its rightness. How could anything so apparently destined be composed of so many pieces that Helena did not expect? “I was wearing a hardhat at the time,” she told Myka. Then she pushed. “Can you imagine? Perhaps you can...”

“Now you’re just showboating,” Myka said, but her hands moved in a way that suggested “just showboating” meant “issuing clear instructions.”

Whatever instructions Helena had inadvertently given, they were exactly the right ones. “Mm,” she said. “Trying to hold your interest.”

Myka said, her words another decisive door-kick, “Irresistible. In the long term.”

****

Early in the morning, a bit baffled by the morning (“It’s only Tuesday? We can do this again tonight and it will then be only Wednesday?”), they went to Myka’s apartment for breakfast.

“I thought your mother liked having the place—a place—to herself,” Helena objected.

“This morning I think she’ll like making maternal noises,” Myka said. She insisted they stop and buy grapefruit and Pop-Tarts, “because symbolism is important.” Helena considered objecting but then reckoned that this stood as one of many lessons, and that her life going forward would be easier if she absorbed those lessons as they presented themselves.

“Three,” Jeannie greeted them.

Helena winced: “Please don’t keep count.” Still so small, that number. What would change as the tally increased?

“I read up on that third Emperor Napoleon,” Jeannie informed her, with a Myka-esque innocent blink. “He instituted several much-needed reforms. So on a scale...”

“Oh. Then please carry on.”

“Actually I’d find that a little weird,” Myka said, with a wince of her own.

“That. That’s what you’d find weird. In addition to my family, of course.”

“A little.”

“You could name my first grandchild Napoleon,” Jeannie suggested.

“Really?” Helena said. Not the worst of names. But also: children. Charles and Jane had been talking of having a child, and Helena had thought that when they succeeded in doing so, that would be that, childwise, for the Wells family. And yet... Napoleon?

“Not really,” Myka said. She frowned at her mother.

A thought struck Helena. “Donovan.”

“What?” Now Myka swung her frown toward Helena.

“First there is a mountain.”

Jeannie said, “I remember that song.”

Myka’s face softened. “I don’t hate it.”

“The song, or the name?” Helena asked.

“I’ve never heard the song. I think. But the name is nice.”

“I can’t wait to tell your father,” Jeannie said. “He’s been terrified you’d name your first after the dog.”

“The author, you mean,” Myka said, and the frown was back.

“No, the dog. The one-word version.”

“Why wouldn’t he like that?”

“For a little girl’s dog, it was charming. An actual human?”

“We’ll name her Emilywilson,” Myka declared. “How about that?”

“Sweetheart, your father’s the one you have to reassure about the name. I just want a grandchild. Name it Child One if you want to.”

Helena, hoping to inject a bit of levity, asked, “But then how will little Two feel?”

Myka raised her eyebrows. “More than one? Really?”

Helena had meant it in jest, but... more than one? “We’ll need to talk about it,” she said.

“We will. The things we get to talk about now!” Myka seemed to glow at the very idea.

Helena had a strange and wonderful presentiment of their doing exactly that: talking about things. Coming to real agreement when an issue was essential, reaching détente when it was not. All while the tally grew: Four. Five. Six. Seven. In some universe, surely there were uncountably many Emperors Napoleon, each bettering the previous.

Aloud, Helena instructed herself. Take this lesson from Myka: speak it all aloud. “Uncountably many Emperors Napoleon,” she said.

“Forget Maine,” Myka countered. “We’ll move to Florida and buy a grapefruit orchard.”

“Most likely more profitable than refusing to fish for lobsters,” Helena said. “One and Two will need college funds.”

“Three?” Jeannie suggested.

“I don’t know how much money there really is in citrus, particularly if this cheapskate raids the grove every morning for breakfast. Three might have to be one of those pretty never-children,” Myka told her. Then she turned to Helena. “But we’ll need to talk about it.”

“We will,” Helena agreed. The things we get to talk about now... Helena was reasonably certain she was glowing too.

****

Once Myka’s mother and the overall prohibition were gone, Myka did not seem to lose interest. And she and Helena did talk about things. Helena was becoming accustomed to the idea that she would never become accustomed to what Myka would say... happiness pushed up against surprise, always, to make a double bed.

“Here’s a funny thing,” Myka said one morning, standing in Helena’s kitchen, holding a cup of coffee, just as Helena had hoped she might but despaired that she would never.

“Oh god,” Helena responded, because while she was of course thankful for the circumstance under which Myka was speaking, she was still not quite fully thankful for never knowing what she would speak about.

Myka laughed, as she always did. “No, no. It’s just a question; what’s funny is that I never thought to ask you. Why’d you come to the U.S.?”

It was true, though not very surprising, that the topic had not yet come up. Many practical, reality-related issues hadn’t yet come up, perhaps in part due to temperament but mainly due to time. Helena could still easily count their nights... then again she might always keep that count, reflexively. Joyfully? Myka was looking at her, so Helena said, “Sorry. Preoccupied by a number—”

“Thirty-six?”

“That’s the one.”

“We should give each other cards for significant ones. Maybe the primes?”

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll bring you flowers as well... no, I’ll have them sent to you at City Hall.”

At work, Myka had in fact been high-fived more than she had received pies to the face. Apparently most people’s hearts weren’t made of stone, and it was true that Myka was porous when it came to the extent of her happiness. Not to mention, her illness had banked her some goodwill... but it was most likely Myka herself, being herself, that led to the indulgent responses.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Myka accused, but not seriously. “You, to the U.S., why?”

“It isn’t a very interesting story,” Helena said. “Not nearly as interesting as your gratifyingly enthusiastic response to receiving flowers. But since you ask: my mother was fascinated with America, and Americans, when she was young. She instilled it in me, I suppose, and so when I was deciding where to study...”

“I thought that kind of fascination usually went the other way—Americans love the British. The accent, the royal family. Scones. I know my mom did, and I guess she instilled that in me, if we take you as evidence. But so why did your mother—”

“She had an American penfriend.”

“A pen pal?”

“Yes, that. I heard about her my entire childhood, not least because I was nearly named after her.”

“I can’t imagine you not being ‘Helena.’ What was it you were nearly named? And why weren’t you?”

“Jeannette,” Helena said promptly. “Or, as my mother always called her, ‘American Jeannette,’ and in fact that might have been my name, but my father prevailed, because my mother had been the one to name Charles. Although now that I think about it, I don’t know why she wanted his name to be Charles. It isn’t a family name, not that I’m aware, and his ears were of perfectly average size, thus no connection to the prince, so I—”

“I’m going to take a wild stab here,” Myka said. She had set her cup down and crossed her arms, and she was regarding Helena with what was, even for her, an enigmatic expression.

“Are you? At what?”

“Your mom’s name is Sarah.”

Nonplussed, Helena said, “That stab wasn’t wild at all. It was in fact... wait.” No.

“Okay,” Myka said.

“No. Oh no. No.”

“Always with the same bad argument.” Myka’s smile. As if she had always known... but she couldn’t have. So: her smile, as if she had always been—would always be—willing to believe.

“I don’t understand,” Helena said. She didn’t. At no turn had she understood.

Myka said, “Well, me neither.” But she moved across the wide space of the kitchen; she put her arms around Helena, and that was something Helena did understand.

A kiss, a long one, and she understood that too. “Words about destiny,” she said, when she could.

Myka said, familiarly, against Helena’s neck, “Does it really even matter why?”

“I don’t enjoy being set up.”

“You were set up with me.” Still familiar, still against her neck.

“That improves the situation,” Helena conceded. “Marginally.”

“I’m going to make you regret that addition.”

“Are you?” Now it was Helena’s turn to put lips where they would be familiar. And persuasive.

Myka chuckled. “Depends on how you thought you’d be spending the next several decades.”

Helena determined to take this literally. She leaned back and moved her left hand in front of Myka’s face. “I have a ring, my acceptance of which indicates that ‘married to you’ is my thinking in the matter. More-detailed projections are your job.” This was true: speculating about the gamut of possibilities, from fantastical citrus groves to children, real or never-, delighted Myka.

“Speaking of projections,” Myka said, “I don’t think it’s too crazy to predict, based on this new information, that the wedding—which was already going to be fantastic!—just got that much better. My mom always wondered what happened to her pen pal from England.”

“Is there any prediction that you would consider ‘too crazy’? But my mother wondered too.”

“Both busy raising daughters destined for each other.” This Myka emphasized with a kiss, but...

...so chancy, all of it. “What if it hadn’t happened?” Helena demanded, as if Myka would be able to say. “What if something in this Rube-Goldberg destiny had gone wrong?”

“What if it had? Well, what if it already did? For all you know, this is destiny’s backup plan. She tried a ton of other ways, but then finally threw her hands in the air and said ‘Go forth and matchmake, Helicobacter pylori!’”

Speaking of throwing one’s hands in the air: Helena didn’t perform the action, but, “I give up,” she said. “You win: it’s H. pylori’s fault.”

“Bank on it,” Myka said, her words accompanied by a bright-eyed smile that spoke equally to their past, their present, their future. She followed that with a kiss that was soft and sure, a word about the short term, a promise of the long. “But better yet, bank on me.”

END

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