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tsarisfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Eclipse: Chapter 32

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades We're finally here - the last chapter and end of this story. This fic's been a year and a half in the making, and it feels weird that it's finally done and posted. To head off the question I know is coming (because it's already been floated in the discord) - no, there is currently no plan for a sequel. Yes, there is definitely space for it, and if it happens it will be the Revolution~, but I have several other projects at the moment that I want to work on, and honestly writing a full blown revolution fic would be a lot of work and time I don't have right now. So for now at least, assume there won't be one. I'm not making any promises on the next project or when it'll come, but I have several muses clamouring for attention so there should be another longfic out of me at some point... In the meantime, I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 31

APOLLO XXXII

A goodbye for now The future keeps coming, but This tale is over

Hades rolled his eyes. “You do not need to thank me, nephew,” he said, the familial title sounding almost fond and reminding Apollo yet again of Hades’ words after the Arai. “I never intended to allow Nico to return to the Pit; it should be I thanking you for preventing it when he had found a way to get around my notice.”

Apollo had no words to say to that, a creeping feeling of awkwardness descending around them. In the Pit it had been one thing, an alliance for survival against the Pit and everything it tried to throw at them – which had, eventually, been everything or close enough to it that Apollo was still amazed that they had escaped, and thoroughly grateful to Thanatos for choosing to aid them. Now, there was no adrenaline tying them together, no co-dependence for survival.

They were safe once more, in Hades’ domain where Apollo had less power while his uncle ruled over every daktylos of it, and Apollo was not sure if he was expected to stay and talk, or if he had overstayed his welcome and was required to leave, now that the demigods had departed and Asclepius sentenced.

Silence stretched between them, before Hades broke it with a sigh. “I did not lie, in the Pit,” he said. “Your presence is more tolerable than that of your siblings and cousins.” There was a weighted pause. “Certainly more tolerable than your father.”

“I don’t think being more tolerable than him is much of an achievement,” Apollo muttered, and Hades let out an amused noise.

“No, it is not,” he said. “Once, he was fair and just. Now, he has allowed paranoia to devour any common sense he once had and isolates himself, fearing a knife in the back at every turn. In truth, he is hardly recognisable from the young god I recall leading us from Mount Othrys, except in his determination.”

Apollo knew the stories, but that had been long before he and Artemis had been conceived so all he knew were the stories, most of which had been told to an infant god by his mother. Zeus had rarely spoken of it, and Apollo had never been close enough to the other involved gods for them to tell him about it.

“Speaking of your father, and my siblings,” Hades continued, “I was not expecting Poseidon to drag himself from his watery depths, much less to take the side of Bob. Athena, perhaps I could understand your sister gathering, but Poseidon keeps himself out of reach of Olympus almost as much as I.”

“It wasn’t Artemis.” That much, Apollo knew, but the sound of his sister’s name provoked a memory of a vision, of two demigods scribbling symbols on a piece of paper. An awkward, not-quite bubble letter ‘C’ – or rather, he realised, a crescent – squiggly lines stacked above each other in parallel rows, a stick figure that could creatively be called a bird.

At the time, Apollo had been too distracted with the aftermath of the Arai to recognise what the bad iconography had represented, but now he recalled mention of Percy and Annabeth, and the pieces slotted together.

“It was Will and Nico,” he said, meeting his uncle’s eyes as Hades froze. “Somehow – Nico’s dream-walking – they reached out. They must have known bringing a titan out wouldn’t go down well and tried to find allies.”

It was a laughable thought – allies amongst the Olympians. Artemis was unique, his twin and intrinsically tied to him because of it, covering his back when she could manage, but the other gods? No.

Except, Hades had stood with him, still stood with him, amicable and merciful to the son who offended him more than once, and Zeus had been the one outnumbered in the throne room. It hadn’t been an alliance – Apollo had allied with three of the gods in there before, to try and talk Zeus into being a little less tyrannical, and that hadn’t been the same at all – but it had been something.

Trust demigods, who had little scope of the dynamic between gods, but an innate knowledge of how powerful friends in the right places could be, to head straight to the heart of the matter and enlist them regardless. They must have gone through their friends – Percy and Annabeth, for Poseidon and Athena, and Reyna or Thalia to reach Artemis – all demigods who also knew the strength in bonds.

Asclepius had warned them against it, but hadn’t stopped them – enough of a god to know how unlikely it was to work, yet with the memories of a demigod who knew it needed to work.

Hades sighed, clenching a fist in the fabric of his robes. The souls around his fingers twisted into something even more agonised. “Foolish children.”

“Very,” Apollo agreed whole-heartedly, “but it worked.”

His uncle scoffed. “It shouldn’t have done,” he said. “My son’s irreverence for the gods will get him killed one day, if he is not careful. It is one thing not to fear me – for all he should.” Apollo didn’t think for a single moment that Hades was as irritated about his son’s lack of fear as he projected; parents who wanted to inspire fear tended not to put themselves in danger to protect their child. “It is another to argue with or attempt to manipulate other gods, who would as soon as smite him down as listen.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Apollo could not see how they could convince Nico not to keep doing exactly as he pleased. It was not as though the son of Hades hadn’t experienced first hand the wrath of a god – Apollo recalled the death of Maria di Angelo all too well, and not just because it had coincided with his uncle cursing his Pythia in his furious grief.

That had been the moment Bianca and Nico had been marked as important, to the future. Their potential had always been there, but the potential had also been there for them to die in the war, forgotten casualties like so many others of the time period. Zeus’ attack on Maria had provoked Hades’ defence of the children, squirrelling them away, out of the time stream and safe until it was time to bring them back out to re-join the world.

“In the future, I expect William to attempt to stop my son’s suicidal plans, not enable them,” Hades said, and Apollo gave a shrug.

“I’m sure he’ll do what he can,” he said lightly, well aware that Will’s own stubbornness and strong morals were more likely to have him joining Nico in the chaos, rather than pulling him out of it. Even when he’d tried to keep Nico out of harms’ way, it had happened anyway.

“See that he does,” Hades grumbled, but Apollo suspected he, too, knew that the demigods were a lost cause. As long as they were happy, that was the most important thing – although safe and alive were also listed at the top of Apollo’s priority list, and no doubt Hades’ as well.

His uncle stepped past him, as though heading for his throne once again, but paused after a few steps, turning back to face Apollo, who had half thought that he had just been dismissed.

“The prophecy,” he began. “I find it curious that topaz referenced Koios.”

“I thought you didn’t care for prophecies,” Apollo retorted, defensive almost without thinking – it had been enough of a struggle getting his uncle to comprehend the idea of claiming one, and now Hades wanted to talk about the wording?

Hades hesitated, something that had been unnerving enough in the depths of Tartarus, but now in his own domain just seemed wrong. “I cannot say that I like them,” he admitted, a truth Apollo had long been aware of, “but I realise now that they exist nonetheless, and will not be gainsaid by my refusal to listen. I was… rash, when I cursed her. Your Pythia. I… should not have done that.”

It took Apollo a moment to realise his uncle was apologising, and another moment for the implications to sink in. It changed nothing; Cassie’s life had been forfeit and she had been forced to endure long beyond the limits of her mortal life, restricted from death but unable to live. With the lifting of the curse and the transference of her duties to Rachel, she had finally been allowed to rest, her torment over.

It also, Apollo realised suddenly, was not something he could condemn Hades for. Perhaps once he would have done, a hypocrite of the highest order or perhaps simply forgetting his own crimes, but thinking now about a young woman cursed by a god for no good reason, Apollo could only remember the Cumaean Sibyl and the grains of sand he had made her life.

He had long waited for Hades to acknowledge what he had done to Cassie, to apologise for it, but now that he had received it, it gave him no satisfaction at all. The act of his uncle apologising, and apologising to him, was strange enough in its own right, a flicker of warmth within his essence because apologies were not given lightly between gods, but it was cooled unpleasantly because as soon as he received it, it sent a chill through him.

He couldn’t accept it.

“You are not the only god to curse a prophetess in a moment of rage,” he admitted, glancing down at the polished black marble of Hades’ throne room floor before meeting his uncle’s eyes. Hades looked surprised, as though he hadn’t known about the Sibyl – but perhaps he hadn’t, her name not appearing on Thanatos’ list of souls to be reaped and leaving that crime of Apollo’s unrevealed. “I cannot condemn you for it when I have done worse.”

Cassie still had a body, when she was finally allowed to pass on. The Sibyl of Cumae had been nothing but a naked and vulnerable soul, her body long since decayed to nothing while she still endured. Apollo could not call it living, not in that state.

Hades’ eyes regarded him, surprise flickering in black flames for a few moments before morphing into something else, softer and yet harder at the same time. “In that case,” he said after several long moments, during which Apollo felt exposed in a way he hadn’t even when his form had been torn to shreds and his essence was the only thing left of him, “let me rephrase. In cursing your Pythia, I belittled and disrespected you and your domain. You and she attempted to use Delphi to protect Maria and her children, and when I did not listen, I lashed out at the ones that would have helped me, had I allowed it. If you will not accept an apology for my treatment of her, then let me instead apologise for the disrespect I gave you then.”

Apollo froze. He had thought Hades would brush off the attempted apology and continue with whatever it was he had to say about the wording of the one they had claimed, not that he would amend the apology to address what was, in essence, the real offence.

“I still do not like prophecies,” Hades confirmed, “and I do not believe I ever will. But they are part of the Fates’ designs, a part of your power, and I should not have lashed out.”

If the previous apology had startled Apollo, this one floored him. His uncle apologising for a single rash action was one thing, but to delve into the heart of the issue and apologise for what was, at its core, disrespecting Apollo? No, Apollo had never even considered the possibility.

He also knew that he could not brush this one away.

“Thank you,” he said. There were no other words good enough in the face of Hades’ honesty, no elaborate speeches that would share his gratitude so eloquently. “That…” His breath hitched, as he realised just how much it meant, but also that while Hades had been open with him, he hadn’t returned the gesture. “That means a lot.”

It felt wrong, baring himself, but if Hades could do it in Tartarus, then Apollo owed it to him to at least try. “I know it’s less competition, but you’ve always been the most tolerable of my father’s siblings.”

Hades’ face went blank. “Even Hestia?”

Apollo’s heart did an awkward twist at that, remembering her rejection of his advances. In hindsight, it had been the correct decision, for both of them, but at the time… Apollo had respected it, but he hadn’t been used to rejection. Not when he was the young, handsome god everyone was falling over to be near, let alone with.

“You have never rejected my presence,” he settled on. It must have been good enough, because Hades did not press further. “Then, you protected me, in the Pit.”

“We protected each other,” Hades said, his face still unreadable. Apollo hoped he hadn’t just overstepped, hadn’t just ruined everything he thought they’d created in Tartarus. “It has been a long time since anyone trusted me like you did.”

The corner of Apollo’s lip quirked up humourlessly. “It’s been a long time since anyone stood between me and Father.” He could scarcely believe that he was admitting that, that he was admitting any of his thoughts, but after his uncle had been so open with him – it was the right thing to do.

It also, inexplicably, made his essence feel lighter, like a great weight had just dispersed. “Thank you.”

Hades nodded, a single tilt of his chin acknowledging his words, but when he spoke it was a change of topic, backtracking to the comment that had sparked their openness. Apollo followed the subject change eagerly – baring himself, being honest, was unnerving at best, and if Hades didn’t want to leave those words hanging between them awkwardly, then he was more than happy to oblige.

“The prophecy,” his uncle said. “Topaz was an interesting choice for Koios.” With a flick of his wrist, a collection of gemstones appeared in his hand, a mixture of fiery oranges and yellows, and faded blues. “These are all topaz,” he said. “It comes in a variety of colours, but these are the most common ones, and amongst the common colours, its reputation is for yellows and oranges, not blue. Yet you and Koios both accepted without question that it was him.”

Apollo gazed at the gemstones, bright and pure in the hands of their god, and could only shrug. “Prophecies are not set in stone,” he reminded his uncle. “Topaz certainly referred to Koios” – he’d known that, felt the certainty of an event coming to pass – “but had events resolved differently, there may have been another prisoner of the Pit who better fit the other colouration.”

“You,” Hades said bluntly, not even letting Apollo pause before jumping in. “If you had gone without me, it would have been you.”

“It could have also been Asclepius,” Apollo corrected, “or anyone who ended up in the Pit and could be conceivably associated with one of the many colours of topaz.” Like Will and Nico. “Once a prophecy has come to pass, the other potential interpretations are meaningless.” Discarded possibilities, like so many of his visions over the millennia, because there were near infinite possibilities but there was only one future that would ever come to pass.

“And it has come to pass?” Hades pressed.

“Yes,” Apollo said simply. “It has.”

Really, there was no more to be said on the matter. Prophecies were simple, in hindsight, and this one was no different; he and Hades had ventured to the depths of the prison in Tartarus, and helped Bob and Koios leave – with the help of Thanatos – before he and Artemis had cast Koios back down at the moment their domains overlapped. It was almost too simplistic to encompass everything else the prophecy had caused, the weeks of impossible-to-track time trudging through Tartarus and suffering everything the Pit chose to throw at them. None of it had been even referenced in the vaguest terms by the prophecy, and yet without it none of it would have happened.

“In that case, it is time we returned to our duties,” Hades said, turning away once more and continuing his way to his throne, resizing to fit. Almost instinctively, Apollo grew to match, even though this time he was sure that was the start of a dismissal. “Thanatos did well, but he is not this realm’s god. Likewise, the sun felt wrong, without you at the reins. The gods from the other pantheons are not you, Apollo, and you are irreplaceable. Do not let anyone, least of all your father, tell you otherwise.”

Ichor rushed around Apollo’s cheeks, and he pushed it down with only the innate force of will and absolute control being a god allowed him – things he had sorely missed as a mortal, when his body had failed him on multiple, often humiliating, occasions.

“So are you,” he replied, reaching for the sunlight high above them, in the Overworld. “See you later, dear uncle.”

“One last thing, nephew,” Hades said, and he paused, casting his gaze up at the god sat on his throne as the address registered. “Next time you need help, just ask.” There was no if, just a simple when, and Apollo wasn’t sure what to think about that when he was the god of prophecy and had no inkling of when he might need it, but the look on his uncle’s face was intent. “You know where to find me.”

It was a promise, Apollo realised, briefly losing his grip on the light high above in surprise. A promise of aid, when he needed it – something he hadn’t had in millennia.

“I- thank you,” he breathed, before finding enough presence of mind to say, “the same goes for you, uncle.” Hades rolled his eyes.

“If I need your help, I will call,” he said, but despite the eye-roll the tone wasn’t dismissive; rather, it was serious enough that Apollo could feel that he meant it. “Now, go.”

That was a dismissal, with no room for misunderstanding, but it wasn’t harsh, and Apollo gave his uncle a grin and a wave before latching onto the warmth of the sun and dissolving into light.

The sun was only just risen, a new dawn to mark a new day, but it was late enough that Apollo had once again missed the timing for the chariot. Tomorrow, then, he would take the reins again, although he was well aware that his horses required a lot of bribing and grovelling before then for disappearing on them again, despite the fact he had warned them this time.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had almost an entire day to spare. Part of him immediately flickered away to Helios’ old palace in a near-repeat of when he’d re-ascended as a god – sure enough, Hermes had piled up all the subscriptions and repeating orders he hadn’t cancelled across the door again, and once Apollo got past it to enter the stables, the greeting he found himself on the receiving end of was very similar, complete with hooves in delicate areas.

Most of him, however, had only one destination in mind, and it was barely a thought to reappear at the edge of Camp Half-Blood, watching the demigods stir as their new day began. His children were all up and about already – Will was curled up in a suntrap near the porch of cabin seven, the unmistakable shadow of Nico tucked away outside of the sun’s rays but with his boyfriend nonetheless.

Will looked much better under the light of the morning sun, even if it was a sun that wasn’t Apollo’s. Tomorrow, when he took to the skies once again, he would ensure a boost to his son – it was the least he could do, after being the reason he had been trapped in the Underworld for so long.

“I hear you and the old man below stirred up some drama,” a voice drawled from behind him. Apollo had sensed Dionysus’ arrival and refused to give him the satisfaction of being startled when he began to speak. Dionysus had gained enough blackmail material to last him millennia simply from Apollo’s second, brief visit to camp on his and Meg’s way to Nero and their fake surrender. He did not need any more. “A titan rescued from the Pit, wasn’t it?”

“Bob,” Apollo confirmed, still watching the demigods as Kayla prodded Will incessantly until he stood up – bringing Nico with him – and meandered his way to the breakfast table. That appeared to be a cue for the others to swarm their brother and Nico, and Apollo was abruptly reminded that as far as the rest of the camp were considered, Will and Nico had simply disappeared for two months without a trace. No wonder they were delighted to see them back, and in one piece at that. “Formerly known as Iapetus.”

Dionysus snorted. “I bet Father loved that,” he commented.

“Not particularly,” Apollo replied. “The Fates intervened.”

That got the full attention of his younger brother. Apollo felt the burning violet flames of his eyes boring into the back of his head. “The Fates?”

“‘Bob will aid Olympus in her time of need’,” he quoted. “‘Because Olympus aided him’.”

That prompted another snort from the other god. “Father definitely loved that. I almost wish I’d been there to see his face. Where is Bob now?”

“Reuniting with Percy and Annabeth,” Apollo told him. “New Rome probably received rather a shock when he arrived with his chaperone goddess.” He suspected it would have been Athena who went with him on that particular errand, given that it concerned her daughter. Apollo certainly would have gone himself in her position.

Dionysus flapped a hand dismissively, clearly uncaring about New Rome’s potential collective heart attack. “So, what happens now, brother?” he asked. “Do we just continue in this boring dirge of an existence, ignoring the titan’s presence outside of the Pit, until something exciting enough to change things occurs?”

“Life isn’t boring,” Apollo corrected. “Did we not already establish that you will continue making wine out of the sour grapes deposited in your way? But as for me – Will demanded I drop by, and he seems awake enough now, so if you don’t mind-”

“One last question,” Dionysus said, the lazy drawl of his voice disappearing to be replaced with something dangerous. “The voice summoning Nico. I trust there will be no more noises dragging my patient into situations that worsen his mental health?”

Alcyoneus sprang to mind, jewels and rocks combined as he sent out a cry that had sounded all too much like help me despite an eternal grin on his face, luring Nico down simply to get to Hades. Apollo also recalled the way his and Hades’ essences had intermingled, furious and deadly even to a giant.

“The voice will not call him again,” he said confidently. “Hades and I made sure of it.”

“Good.” The single word was vehement enough it almost made Dionysus sound personally invested in the situation. Apollo almost called him out on it, but movement from the pavilion drew his eye back to Will.

Will, who was looking directly at him and pointing a firm finger at the stone table cabin seven used as their own. Apollo wasn’t sure how his son had noticed him, but he was not about to ignore such a blatant summons.

The rest of the table were beckoning him over as well, a total of eleven demigods including one son of Hades, and Apollo homed in on them like a fly to honey, slipping onto the bench next to Will, Austin on his other side.

“Is it over?” Will demanded, skipping greetings in favour of jumping straight into the grilling. None of his siblings looked surprised at the question, and Apollo assumed they’d all dragged the story out of Will the moment he and Nico had reappeared in camp.

Apollo smiled at him, and looped an arm around his shoulders. Instantly, his son nestled against him, and Apollo got a sense of tiredness. Of course, he and Nico had lost all semblance of a sleep schedule in the Underworld for so long, so far away from the movement of the sun and the moon. Arriving back in the middle of the night must have been a shock to their systems.

Was it over? Was anything ever, really, over, when the future kept marching forwards, adjusting to the tune of millions of small, individually inconsequential decisions with every new weave from the Fates’ loom?

But Will wasn’t asking about the universe. He was asking about Tartarus, about the voice calling his boyfriend, about the prophecy issued to him – but also to Apollo – and the titan that had clawed his way back out of the Pit and had no intentions of ever returning.

According to those, the answer was simple. “Yes,” Apollo promised, pressing a light kiss to blond waves. “It’s over.”

End.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo hades #pjo apollo #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo dionysus #kayla knowles #austin lake #cabin seven #tsari writes fanfiction #eclipse

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lupineleigh · 1 year ago

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I’ve been ghosted so many times in real life by family and friends, I barely question it online. It is uncomfortable talking to in a discord server alone for months only to realize nobody is there. It’s painful sending instant messages and never having them answered.

I know people move on to different interests and that real life takes time and energy away from online friends. I have left without leaving a message because I had intended on coming back and by the time I realized how much time had passed, I saw I was not missed, my absence was not questioned, and I no longer felt like I could say I was still around.

I’ve had days where I was too depressed and sick to even say Hi to friends. All I could do was silently wish my life away.

But I do go back and I do post in my profiles when my interests change and how I’m doing. I do not let my profiles sit unacknowledged forever.

I am too connected with my Alias to drop it, so I will not use different usernames on different sites, unless I have already used it and can’t log back in, or I had a different purpose, like my former rp now general everything account on Tumblr.

If all my accounts go silent for more than four months, then I likely am no longer able to communicate to my friends. I hope they will know what happened to me, and not be left worrying and wondering indefinitely. I only have one I talk to every day anyway. I hope my friends know I love them, and that I still think about all of them and the time we shared together, even if it was just friendly greetings or discussing character head canons. I have grown so much because of my friends. I hope my passage of time here will be remembered with equal fondness.

I am also grateful that my friendship meant so much to one of my online friends that she told her real life friends and family about me, so when she left this world, they took the time to find me and contact me. It gutted me, but it was good to know. I had been worried about her. I still think about her family and friends. I wonder how much of her is still around that I will never know about. I backed up our online chats and all of our rps and ideas and her art, and I’m glad I did because the instant messenger we used is no longer available. Neither is the forum we rped on. All that is left of our one year friendship is what is posted online. But because it’s there, I can relive the fun and memories we made together. I can cry with other people who remember her and miss her. I have closure. I have never had closure with anyone else in my life. I am super grateful. That one year is still in my heart, over a decade later, and my current friends love the characters we created together. Our friendship lives on.

Shout out to all your internet friends who are gone.

Those messenger screen names that haven’t logged on in ages, some before detailed profiles were a thing on those services.

Those emails that are long since abandoned, some with domains that no longer exist.

Those online friends you knew years ago and who then helped shaped you in some way, who you just can’t FIND anymore.

Those people who once were, and hopefully still exist IRL, that seem to have no known internet life anymore.

And those who have actually passed on, and their online lives are now a memorial to them.

I miss you all. I hope life is/was kind to you, and maybe one day, we’ll somehow connect again.

#been missing people #internet friends #internet relationships #rip my friend

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piplup335 · 8 months ago

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Contest submission #1! (Murder Party, Roblox)

so essentially this is just some shit i wrote sometime in late 2022 for a contest that was going on in the Murder Party discord server didn't win that one LMAO but ima post my submission here to feed the small amount of Murder Party enjoyers out there enjoy!

The neon lights that illuminated the city at night made the streets a sight that one would see as a dark, futuristic dystopia. But the bustling activity, families carrying bags and bags filled with purchases of the day and the lively atmosphere was a mask. A mask, to hide the true nature of the dark, futuristic dystopia and what actually happened in the dark alleys, where not many individuals would set foot in. Dark alleys, where a multitude of crimes would take place. Drug dealings and human trafficking only just scratched the surface of all the evil present in this seemingly flourishing city.

Criminals all seemed to have one thing in common. They were all desperate. Desperate to survive, desperate for a better life, one in which they could be like those shoppers enthusiastically going from mall to mall, coming out with shopping bags filled with shoes, accessories, items which these syndicates could only dream of owning.

But what about more affluent individuals? What objective did these people have in this vast world of crime?

Did they want fame?

Did they crave even more money than they already had?

Or perhaps...something beyond our capacity of comprehension?

In his mansion, a man paced around. He donned a red suit, a shade of red just like the blood of his victims. Twirling his knife in his hand, he turned around to face his soon-to-be victim. Another innocent soul who, judging by her tattered clothes and disheveled hair, was homeless, and broke into the mansion for shelter.

"You've come to the wrong place for refuge, my dear."

The pitiful individual tried to run, but to no avail. With blinding speed, the man lunged towards her, pinning her towards the wall with his knife to her throat."Answer this truthfully, and maybe I'll let you leave. Maybe in one piece, but no promises, dear."The man stared into the poor woman's eyes. "Hm," he said, upon seeing her anxious expression, "guess I'll take that as a yes."

Disregarding the sobbing woman in front of him, he asked: "There's a sheriff in Lakeside Town, the one running the farm. Know anything about her?" Upon seeing her shake her head with tears streaming down her cheeks, the man sighed.

"I see. Well, I have no use for you now. Say goodbye!"

The woman was in shock. The man drew his hand back and stabbed her in the stomach. As she breathed her last, she realised that the man never intended to keep her alive to begin with. To him, she was a victim, another life taken to add to his kill count. She was something else for him to toy around with, giving her false hope so that she would comply with his demands.

This man was not like those typical rich, stuck up men that lived in the city. No, he would lie low during the day, not letting his wealth draw attention to himself. It wasn't even his wealth. It was the fortunes of all his past victims. This man...was a murderer.

"Well, another job done...and still no information about the Sheriff..." Walking towards the fireplace, he took a piece of tissue paper and cleaned the blood off his knife. "I'll clear the body myself later, but for now..." The Murderer looked at the photograph which was on the coffee table. It was in a polished brass frame, and he cherished this photo dearly. It was taken near a lake, one he'd always play near with his friends when they were younger. In the photograph was four people.

A boy with green coloured hair and a lime green hoodie holding a laptop, who later went on to become a hacker. A girl with bright pink hair holding a party hat, who loved tea parties and decided to spend her days planning parties for them. A boy with a black mask that slightly resembled a beak. The Murderer slightly chuckled at the sight of his younger self. And last, a girl, whose most noticeable feature was her dark curls, covered by a hat. The hat of a sheriff.

Looking back fondly at the old memory, the Murderer smiled. "Oh, this Sheriff...it's been years, but..." "...I'm still waiting for your RSVP."

aaaaand that's submission #1! expect a few more random stories today lol

#roblox #murder party roblox #murder party murderer #murder party sheriff #murder party hacker #murder party party planner #marinated seasoned and grilled to perfection!

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sungies-world · 3 years ago

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Sub!Albedo x Fem!Dom!Reader

Minors & unaged blogs please DNI with my page.

Fandom/Game; Genshin Impact

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Size kink, Belly bulge, cursing, pegging, metion of ‘strap’

Albeo, the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team of the Knights of Favonius, your lover, your muse, people see it in many different ways, people might even think your the sub in the relationship, my my they have gotten it all wrong. Their cheif Alchemist is just mear puddy in your hands when your fuck him.

He would misbehave either if it was in public or if you both were alone which drives you to punish him, at times it feels the the Archon Barbatos has blessed you, hearing such lovely broken moans from your lover.

"Fuck!..ah-mhn" he would moan as you continue to pound into his sweet pink hole, picking up the pase continuously. "O-oh archons..[Name!]”

he would cry out as you brushed against his prostate,"Cumming! cumming [Name]!" he screamed as his back arches, you imideatly stop moving and take out you're strap/dick, "[N-name] why'd..you stop?"

he spoke between pants, "Remember 'bedo this isn't to pleasure you, this is you're punishment" you cooed as you decided to change the strap size.

his eyes shot wide looking at the size difference "M-my muse..I d-don't this that would fit" he tried arguing, ignoring him you continued to buckle the strap while turning him around, "Nonsense 'bedo" you chuckled as you because to lubricate the strap, lining it up with Albedo's hole, holding onto his hips tightening your grip you began to insert your cock into his hole.

Wincing at the stretch Albedo began to feel tears forming at the corner of his eyes, "A-archons..[Name]..t-the size comparison is huge, I-I don't th-think It'll fit" Albedo sobbed out.

"It'll be fine Albeo, I'll have you seeing stars soon, you can take it and you will" you chuckled, "[N-name]..P-please..I'll behave next t-time I swear" he began to sob, "P-please! just fuck me a-already, y-you can do as you p-please j-just hurry u-up”

“So bold now aren’t we Albedo”

He's really testing you're patience, not intending to let him off of his punishment you forced him onto the rest of your length only to hear screams as a response you stare at his weakened body only to give him an amused smile.

not having any empathy on him you continued to ram your cock into him, it was adorable how he was sobbing, "[N-Name]! P-please, s-so deep in me! Ahm..Ca-can't please! oh Archons!" he cried.

you glance down to his stomach, practically groaning at the sight of a bulge.

It was an amazing sight, not only did you have the Alchemist moaning like a bitch in heat.

But you were deep inside his stomach, “do you feel this?” You cooed at him, could he hear you? He was lost in pleasure.

Pushing the bulge back into his stomach, as a result he began thrashing around crying.

“n-o—can’t t-take it [N-name] g-gonna br-break me” he whined "t-to much..m-my muse..o-oh a-archons..f-fuck! [N-name] r-right there, ngh!" sounds of skin slapping and moaning was heard through the room.

He could barely process anything you were saying, the one thing that was on his mind was about how big you were, penetrating his loosened hole.

His mouth gaped open trying to catch a breath, it was really to much stimulation for him, "A-ah! [N-name] c-can't cum a-anymore'' '’T-to m-much" "I’m full...s-so f-full" he'd pant, "[N-name]..love you..please please!, oh barbatos!..archons please [Name]!"

You're really going to leave him limping for days to come.

https://discord.gg/h4h93NF5 Join my discord server for updates!

#sub!genshin #sub!albedo #dom!reader #gn!reader

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yaemona · 3 years ago

Text

modern ! hu tao headcanons

contents both sft and nsft, hu tao x reader, gamer ! hu tao, yanfei and her are flatmates, established relationship, mentions of face sitting / cunnilingus; scissoring, mentions of the use of toys, use of strap ( referred to as ‘cock’ ), overstimulation

a.n thought about hu tao being a reyna main once and it’s been in my head ever since. i very much enjoyed writing these, hu tao's bubbly and eccentric personality is really fun to write

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

*･῾ ᵎ sft

i’m getting this out of the way: she studies mortuary science

hu tao’s family has owned a funeral parlor for ages, it’s pretty much a given she intends on taking over someday

for now she’s just finishing up the schooling and helps out at the reception desk

and when she’s not doing either . . .

gamer ! hu tao.

her setup is black and red

her entire room actually is just very seamless, she has quite the eye for design and aesthetics of things

posters covering the walls

i think she’d enjoy vkei bands ??? dunno just feels right ya know?

she’s also strung up some dried out roses with some twine

i firmly believe she only uses dim lighting, so like anyone but her trying to navigate her room finds it to be a nightmare

flatmate is yanfei, and they get along

they play val together sometimes

this is so random but i feel like she made yanfei watch death note with her once, she liked it

runs the discord server all the friends she plays games with uses

runs like a dream, top tier organization everything has its place, looks real pretty

basically if it’s not broken don’t fix it. she runs a hell of a good server, so may as well put it to use

before we get to the main event cough cough valorant

she’s played the fnaf games. first one came out when she was young, so let’s just say they were part of her formative years

probably enjoys them for the nostalgia more than anything

but her real bread and butter? rpg maker horror games

ib, misao, mad father, blank dream, corpse party

you name it, she’s played it

never mind this is the main event now.

more often times than not rpg maker horror games are unsettling which i think is more up her alley than cheap jumpscares

don’t get me wrong she’s played her fair share of outlast and—yanfei be her witness—they were shrieking in fear

well hu tao was also cracking jokes so maybe a bit in amusement

stuff like fatal frame too i think

but rpg maker horror >>>

hu tao mains reyna. insta-locks every single time and everything

if someone complains and she’s feeling particularly spiteful

she’ll play sage, sure

and she’ll top frag. probably avoid healing reyna. giggling like crazy when they’re getting pissed at her for doing so

she knows how to trash talk in a way that’s highly specific and leaves people fumbling or just saying “fuck you!” because there’s no other way to respond

voice as sweet as candy too

HAS scammed men on discord.

yanfei advised her heavily against it at first then she actually saw messages from this one sleazebag and her stance immediately changed to “if you ever need a lawyer, just holler”

now how did you meet your ever so lovely girlfriend? you’re actually yanfei’s friend !

you two go to the same college, and she invited you over one time

hu tao was in the kitchen making tea when you two arrived back

tea be damned

“yanfei! who’s your friend?~”

she’s already quite excitable and bubbly, so seeing you was just the icing on the cake and yanfei knew immediately

silently hoping she doesn’t use a pickup line that includes something about putting you in a coffin

so you introduce yourself, and “you must be hu tao! yanfei’s told me a lot of stories about you.”

you smile at her and she dramatically clutches her chest, pretending to fumble backwards like you’ve shot cupid’s arrow straight into her heart

your giggles are music to her ears

she is quite the eccentric one, but you loved her from the moment you saw her

so i suppose the feeling was mutual

immediate “yeah, i’m gonna make them fall in love with me if it’s the last thing i do” moment for both parties

yanfei did drag you along to her room where you did some homework, but you eventually got bored of that and told her you were gonna stretch your legs

yanfei’s door opens. frantic pattering of footsteps from the room across the hall. hu tao’s door opens.

she leaned up against the doorframe so casually as if she didn’t just sprint to the door

yanfei gave up. her flatmate just stole you and she knows she’s going to be doing homework alone now.

in truth though when she heard you and hu tao laughing up a storm, she felt quite pleased

to this day she takes credit

“i set you two up so you have to be nice to me” when you two are being particularly rambunctious

you’d expect the law student to have a better argument it’s a last resort okay, you lot are quite the handful sometimes

the three of you often have movie nights

which yeah maybe has included you and hu tao throwing pieces of popcorn at each other and yanfei grumbling about how you two better clean it up

when yanfei does finally turn in for the night you always try to be considerate

yanfei just doesn’t want to wake up to a noise complaint from the neighbors. that’s all she asks

if you two are being rather boisterous she’ll just put in some earphones or earplugs to drown it out, it’s rare for her to ask you to quiet down

especially because you two will be laughing or talking loudly before she hears you go “shhhh!”

which only seems to cause more giggling, but you’re trying your best

they live in a fairly central area, so there’s a bit of nightlife

it’s not uncommon for you two to go out on walks at night

convenience store runs mostly

or, if she is feeling like driving, you’ll drive around and always end up in this one specific parking lot

it’s a church parking lot up on a hill, always empty in the dead of night

you saw a shooting once, the two of you yelled excitedly and clung to one another before closing your eyes and making wishes

“so y/n, what’d you wish for?~”

“not telling!”

cue whining, which only earns laughter and not a response

if you asked her, she would’ve told you her wish

but maybe that’s because she always tells you anyway

how she wishes to spend all of this life with you, and whatever comes after as well

*･῾ ᵎ nsft

sugar spice and everything nice with this one

i feel like she play wrestles a lot with you like when you’re just chilling in her room or at home

and it almost always turns into something else

quite literally best described by the flick of a switch or a lightbulb turning on

youre fumbling around and your hand brushes over or you just completely miss her arm and full on grab her tit?

she has you pinned beneath her in an instant and you’re still giggling about it

but the giggle is abruptly cut off by a gasp as she begins rubbing you through the fabric of whatever bottoms you’re wearing

omg y’all absolutely have matching lingerie sets !!!

red / black and lacey

she really does adore the color red on you

she owns like a shit load of toys. okay maybe shit load is an exaggeration, but like a considerable amount

most of which bought with you in mind

i just feel like she has an insane amount of stamina and even if you’re both overstimulated once she gets started there’s hardly an end in sight

enjoys scissoring with a vibrator pressed to both of your clits

seriously can cum like that over and over, your juices mixing with hers and her thighs barely holding her up after a certain point

sex with her is probably playful and full of giggles

however. do not be fooled.

she can and will ruin you

has absolutely made you cockwarm her while she plays games

you’re not allowed to move or cum

just sit nice and pretty on her cock <33

claims it’s for good luck or something

if you’re good and she’s feeling particularly nice after winning a few rounds she’ll let you ride her and maybe you can cum

but you’re not getting up after you’re gonna stay on her lap til she’s through with you

she really does just like having you so close to her, your body up against hers as you try not to squirm

she only has her headset over one ear so she can hear all your pretty whimpers

she’s good at ignoring you, and she can do it if you’re being particularly troublesome

but she also tends to cave pretty easily swallowed up by desire herself

she’ll have you cum on her strap at least twice before she instructs you to get on the bed and proceeds to sit on your face

she gets so lost and drunk on the feeling of your mouth on her pussy </33 it just feels so good

not that you’re complaining because her little squeals and moans are heavenly

aftercare consists of bubble baths and cuddling

she likes it when you wash her hair

you’re both pretty much guaranteed to always be sore after your antics

the first time you spent the night and hu tao was covered in hickeys when you both walked out the next morning yanfei was in fact sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a look of utter disdain on her face

to be fair she wasn’t supposed to be home !!!

“i regret ever introducing you two.”

you felt mortified and started frantically apologizing

hu tao had a slight redness to her cheeks, but was giggling up a storm nonetheless

#hu tao x reader #hu tao headcanons #hu tao smut #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #hu tao imagines #hu tao x you #genshin imagines #genshin hu tao

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arrow-guy · 3 years ago

Text

Another Time (2/3)

Original request from @storiesbystarlight: I would like to request a Peggy Carter x Reader, with Reader being Steve’s sister. Peggy and Reader got married after the war, and by the time Steve comes back Y/N is already gone (died from cancer, if that’s okay). Steve goes to ask Tony about Y/N and Peggy, and that’s how he finds out they got married and that Peggy’s still alive. Cut to Peggy telling Steve about how she and Y/N had it after the war.

A/N: So this was definitely intended to be a two and done type story, but then I started spitballing in a discord server I’m in and now I’ve got the makings for a third chapter. However, this second chapter could definitely be read as the finale on account of the Closure. But, that being said, I really enjoy where this story has taken me and I hope you’ll enjoy this new chapter!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: Peggy CarterxReader

Word Count: 9.4k

Warning: Reader is a Lesbian, vaguely homophobic behavior, unrequited love, workplace harassment, verbal argument(s), major character death across the series (Reader character, Steve, Bucky), terminal illness, grief

-Please remember that this is a queer love story set in the 40′s and, as such, will not necessarily be as progressive as those set in modern times. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution of skip altogether.

Part 1

“She really worked nights for three weeks?”

“Well… yes and no.” Steve cocks one eyebrow and Peggy sighs. “Three weeks wound up being three months.”

Steve lets out a low whistle. “You must’ve seriously pissed her off.”

“Believe me, Steve, I don’t think there was ever a time she was more upset with me. And I never blamed her for it. I was too caught up in my own feelings to understand how insensitive I was being.”

"She knew how to avoid a problem. Especially when she felt like she was part of it." Steve frowned. "She came around though, right?"

"Sort of. Neither of us really knew how to broach the issue, so it went on far longer than it should've. But I was stubborn. I knew when she was working and didn't bother to speak with her."

“But you got through it?”

“Yes, we got through it.”

"So when are you goin' back to your regular schedule?"

"Dunno." (Y/N) slid her mug to the edge of the table and Angie dutifully filled it to the brim with coffee.

"Was the fight really that bad?"

"Yeah. It was. She was upset that I didn't disclose information that could literally put me in danger."

"Well there has to be a reason."

"I don't know Ange…"

Angie slid into the booth across from her and grabbed her hand. "Peggy doesn't do anything without a reason, right? And it's not like she doesn't know how to keep a secret."

"That's not the point."

"No, I got the point. You're scared and she's poking at things that she doesn't really get."

"I just don't know if she'll ever understand."

"I think she understands more than you give her credit for."

"Did she ever come talk to you?"

"Oh yeah." She widened her eyes and nodded her head dramatically. (Y/N) chuckled. "And boy did we talk."

“I hate the way you said that.”

"Well, she had a bunch of questions. We got pretty in depth."

"Again, that doesn't bode well." She frowned. "What do you mean, 'in depth'?"

"She asked me about how I knew I-" Angie glanced around- "Y'know."

"Uh-huh."

"And then she was curious about all the ins and outs of you-know-what."

"Which you excel in describing."

"Exactly! So it's not like I could leave anything out, it'd be a disservice to our dear Peggy."

"Yeah, sure."

Angie smirked. "You just wanna know if she asked about you."

"I do not!" (Y/N) busied herself stirring nothing into her coffee. "I mean… I might be a little curious-"

"I knew it!"

"Angie, please-"

"Oh, come on, (Y/N), of course she asked about you. It's the first time I knew something about you that she didn't."

"... Right."

"She asked about your past flames, but we met after they'd all come and gone, so I couldn't tell her much."

"Okay-"

"I did tell her you're excellent in bed."

"You didn't."

"Oh I absolutely did." (Y/N) hid her face in her elbow and Angie just squeezed her hand. "Look, I'm pretty sure she likes you. I wouldn't've said anything like that if I wasn't."

"Really?" She peeked over her arm at Angie. "How can you be sure?"

"I have a really good feeling about it."

"This isn't something you can just have a premonition about and be right!"

Angie shrugged. "I don't see why not. I had the same feeling about David, and look where that got me."

"Yeah, with a ring on your finger and a promise of never working again in your life." Finally, (Y/N) stopped sulking and sat up. "How is he, by the way?"

"Oh, y'know. Busy busy busy. But still just as attentive as ever, if you can believe it."

(Y/N) smiled. "Of course I can believe it. You're a catch, Ange."

The diner door opened, followed by a small “Oh.” (Y/N) glanced up, only to find Peggy standing just inside the diner, staring directly at her and Angie. The obvious betrayal on her face confused (Y/N).

“Peggy?”

The sound of (Y/N)’s voice startled Peggy into action and she quickly turned on her heel and darted back out onto the poorly lit sidewalk. (Y/N) wasted no time in shoving herself up from the booth and going after her. It was nearly 10 at night and no matter how highly trained Peggy was, (Y/N) didn’t have a good feeling about her being out there by herself.

By the time she got outside, Peggy was already halfway up the block. (Y/N) raced after her, calling out for her to stop, which only made Peggy walk faster.

“Peggy, stop.”

She’d nearly caught up when Peggy turned down a random alley. (Y/N) just barely managed to grab her arm before she could get too far past the dumpster.

“Let go.”

“No can do, Director.” She pointed to the glow at the end of the alley. “Down there? That’s Curtis. You don’t want to meet Curtis.”

“What’s he done?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Not sure yet. I just know there’s something off about him.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one, only men are allowed to wait on him when he shows up at the diner.”

“I see.” (Y/N) let go of Peggy’s arm and led the way back to the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your date.”

“Is that what this is about?” Peggy simply folded her arms. “Jesus, Peg. Angie’s at work, not to mention engaged. And I never had any interest in her to begin with.”

“You… really?”

“Yeah. I mean, Angie’s great and all, but… no. Not her.”

“Who, then?”

“If you have to ask, then I’m just gonna assume that everything I tell you goes in one ear and out the other.”

“So nothing’s changed?”

“It’s only been a few months.” Peggy scowled and (Y/N) almost laughed. “You really think one argument is going to erase almost a decade of feelings? Do you honestly think I’m that shallow?”

"No! Of course I don't. But I remember how upset you were last time we spoke."

She sighed. "I know you know how frustrating it can be when you're cornered. Those SSR pricks backed you into your fair share of them. And you cornered me. On more than one occasion, might I add."

"Oh."

"I don't like being laid bare like that. I don't like feeling exposed." (Y/N) shoved her hands into her pockets. “We should probably talk.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Then let me ask the questions. All you have to do is answer as best you can.”

“All right.” Peggy frowned. “Did you want to talk here?”

“Ah, no. That’s probably not a good idea. Is it okay with you if we go back to the office?” Peggy raised her eyebrows. “I still have some work I need to get done…”

“Then we’ll go to the office.”

(Y/N) shivered. “First we need to go back to the diner. I forgot my coat when I rushed out after you.”

She offered her arm and Peggy placed her hand in the crook of her elbow. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t I, though?”

Peggy was quiet for a moment and (Y/N) led them back to the diner. Her grip on (Y/N)’s arm tightened as they got closer.

“I suppose you did,” she said.

(Y/N) simply hummed and opened the door for Peggy to go in first. Angie greeted them when the bell tinkled. (Y/N) gathered her things from the booth and stepped up to the counter to give Angie money for the coffee.

“You know the coffee is free,” Angie admonished.

(Y/N) shook her head and curled Angie’s fingers around the cash. “Your time isn’t.”

Angie sighed. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is.”

“Aw, Ange-”

“I’m serious! I’ve got half a mind to just try to make you my mistress. I mean, David already thinks you’re great. I’m sure we could work something out.”

“You know it’d never last.”

“Aw, why?”

Very seriously, (Y/N) said, “I don’t share.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Angie blushed. (Y/N) winked and Angie laughed and waved her off. Peggy didn’t seem particularly pleased when (Y/N) met her back by the door. She raised her eyebrows and Peggy sighed.

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t flirt in front of me.”

“It was banter, Peggy.” Suddenly confident in the face of Peggy’s obvious jealousy, she leaned in close enough that Peggy would be the only one to hear her say, “But I could always flirt with you, if you’d like.”

At that, Peggy grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and dragged her out the door. Nervous laughter threatened to bubble up from her chest, and (Y/N) didn’t know what to expect from that point forward. She wasn’t even sure why she’d said anything to begin with, let alone something suggestive. Maybe it had something to do with Peggy’s reactions. She was normally so calm and in control of herself and her surroundings. But, somehow, (Y/N) had knocked her off kilter, and she didn’t know what to do with that kind of power. She suspected that she was already pushing her limits with that little she’d done.

"What's going through that head of yours?"

"I'm just trying to figure out what's going through your head." Peggy's grip on her hand tightened and she frowned. "Honestly, I barely know what's going on."

"Well, you wanted to talk. So we'll talk."

"We already established that. I guess I just didn't expect you to drag me through the streets of New York beforehand."

Peggy slowed her pace, but her death grip on (Y/N)'s hand didn't let up.

They let themselves into the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices when they arrived and Peggy silently led (Y/N) to her office. She closed the door as soon as (Y/N) was through. (Y/N) opened her mouth to ask a question, but all that came out was a surprised squeak when she found herself pinned to the door by Peggy, who was surprisingly strong in spite of her petite build. She grabbed the collar of (Y/N)'s coat, hauled herself forward, and crushed her lips to (Y/N)'s, as if she'd lose the nerve if she didn't kiss her at that exact moment. (Y/N) made a choked noise akin to a sob at the back of her throat before she could recover from her shock. Peggy softened against her and her hands fell to Peggy's hips. Tentatively, she allowed herself to kiss back before she abruptly pulled away.

She pushed Peggy back and said, "We need to talk."

"(Y/N)-"

"I am dead serious. I can't do-" she gestured wildly- "this if you're not all in. I'm too fucking old to be someone's experiment."

"You're not an experiment."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"(Y/N)," Peggy warned.

"No, it's been three goddamn months. I've more than earned a little foul language. Now, explain."

Peggy's mouth opened and closed soundlessly while she tried to find her words. (Y/N) waited patiently and tried to look as casual as possible while she leaned against the closed door behind her. She didn't know if it was obvious, but it felt as if her heart were beating hard enough to burst from her chest.

"Months ago, before you even left for your assignment with the FBI's team, you asked who the woman was that made me question myself." (Y/N) nodded. "She's you."

(Y/N) pointed at herself and Peggy nodded. "What?"

"It's not as if I intended to make this discovery, but after your birthday I took a step back and looked at myself and the people I've found myself seeking out and finding comfort in over the years and you cropped up the most. And it's not that I'd never encountered lesbians before, but I'd never thought of the possibility of being attracted to men and women. And then you explained how you found yourself admiring women and I realized that my interest wasn't normal."

"Normal?"

"Well… I suppose I thought all women noticed each other. Snuck glances in the locker room and wanted to erm…" Peggy trailed off and shook her head. "That doesn't matter. By the time you'd left on your assignment I'd realized that I had feelings for you, but then we fought after you got back and I was sure I ruined everything and then tonight-and I just-"

(Y/N) placed her hands on Peggy's shoulders, instantly silencing her. "Slow down. You don't have to say everything all at once."

"It feels like I do."

"I know."

"I need to apologize for that night."

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah, you do."

"I made something that was entirely about your feelings about myself. It was wrong of me and I regretted it as soon as it happened. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." She trailed her hands from Peggy's shoulders, down to her arms, and gently took her hands. "You really have feelings for me?" Peggy nodded. "I-I need to hear you say it."

"I care for you, (Y/N) Rogers." Peggy delicately tucked (Y/N)'s hair behind her ears. "Same as you do for me."

(Y/N) let out a shaking sigh and pressed her forehead to Peggy's.

"Be with me," she murmured.

"Of course I will."

Peggy bumped her nose against (Y/N)'s before she kissed her. (Y/N) didn't hesitate in kissing her back this time and tipped her head to the side, readily opening her mouth under Peggy's and letting her take control.

This kiss was nothing like their first. Instead of force and teeth and searing urgency, it was soft and slow and sweet. It was with great regret that (Y/N) broke it. There was still more that needed to be said.

"I can't be a replacement for Steve," she said. "I'm not him. I can't be him."

"You're not." Peggy gently kissed along her jaw. "You're not-" down (Y/N)'s neck- "you never have been, darling-" before capturing her lips once more. "And I never want you to be."

(Y/N) sighed shakily and gripped Peggy's waist. "I've loved you for so long I-I… I don't think I could take it if you did."

"You say that you love me so easily," Peggy murmured.

"Not really. I'm just allowed to say it now. I'll keep myself in check until you're ready for that sort of thing. Provided you even want it."

"Don't. I quite like hearing it, actually."

"O-oh. Really? It's not too much for you?"

"You keep so much close to your chest. That sort of affection will never be too much for me.”

“Oh.”

“I do have one question, though.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Anything.”

“In my conversation with Angie, she mentioned something about you being, quote, ‘excellent in bed.’” (Y/N) groaned and dropped her head to Peggy’s shoulder. Peggy traced her nails up and down her neck and she shivered. “Care to explain.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help smiling just a little. “Are you jealous?”

“I might be, depending on your answer.”

“Hm, maybe I shouldn’t tell you then.” Peggy dug her nails in and (Y/N) laughed. “No, I’ve never slept with Angie. I already told you I’m not interested in her.”

“So she was lying?”

“Mn, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Then how would she know?”

“Well…”

“(Y/N).”

“She’s the only person I’ve talked to about past encounters-”

“Conquests,” Peggy corrected.

“Whatever you wanna call ‘em, I’ve talked with her about them and she knows I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Oh? That good are you?”

“Curious, are we?” (Y/N) tilted her head to the side so that her lips moved against Peggy’s neck as she spoke.

“Well, it’s not as if I was given any details.” Peggy tipped her head to the side and (Y/N) took it as an invitation to kiss her neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” (Y/N) pulled away and found Peggy flushed from neck to scalp. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. It’s a huge leap from necking in the office to sex.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“This is already moving really fast, Peg. And this isn’t me saying that I don’t want to sleep with you, because I really fucking do. But not now, and not here.”

“You’re sure?”

“You already know how I feel about you. This-” she thumbed gentle circles into Peggy’s sides- “is enough.”

“Alright.”

“But it’s not enough for you.” Peggy chewed the inside of her lip in lieu of an answer. “Talk to me.”

“I...” she sighed. “I do want a physical relationship with you.”

“I want that too. And we can absolutely have that. I just…” (Y/N) frowned. “I want to be able to take my time and make you feel good instead of frantically trying to get you off in a dark office.”

Peggy chuckled. "I see your point. But I am ready to move towards that with you, if you are."

“How about this.” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Peggy and leaned against the door. “Take the rest of the week off, and we’ll spend the weekend upstate.”

Peggy smoothed her hands over (Y/N)’s blouse. “You know I can’t, I’m-”

“The director, yeah. But you’d only be taking Thursday and Friday off, and you haven’t had any time away from work since long before you helped found S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“Really? So your last vacation didn’t turn into a dangerous investigation?”

“Nothing I say will make you forget California, will it?”

“Hell no.”

“Fine.”

“So you’ll come with me?”

"Where would we stay?"

"We'll borrow one of Stark's vacation homes."

"You're sure he has one upstate?"

"Yeah, I heard him talking about a cabin on a lake a while back. In fact-" she disentangled herself from Peggy and crossed the room to her desk. "I'll ask him right now."

She picked up the phone and held the receiver to her ear.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. offices, how may I direct your call?"

"Dana, it's Rogers. I need Stark on the line, now."

"I'm sorry, Agent Rogers, Mr. Stark was very serious about not being disturbed right now."

"It's an emergency."

"Agent Rogers, I can't do that."

"If you put me through, I'll get you off the night shift."

Dana paused at that. "Permanently?"

"I can't promise permanent right now, but you'll get the next month in the daylight and I'll talk to Director Carter in the meantime."

"Are you sure you have that kind of pull?"

"Do we have a deal or not, Richards?"

"Fine."

The line rang through and (Y/N) glanced back to find Peggy looking highly amused. She took a seat on the desk and asked, "What?"

"You know the receptionists names?"

"Oh I absolutely know the receptionists names." She held out her hand and pulled Peggy close as soon as she took it. "Don't be jealous."

Peggy scowled. "I'm not."

"Mm, yeah, sure looks like it." She tilted her head up and kissed her. "You know, Angie joked about making me her mistress."

"You're not doing much to help my jealousy, darling."

"Yeah, well I told her I don't share."

"Ah, greedy, are we?"

"A little. But when I'm committed to someone, that also means I don't share myself with anyone else. And I'm committed to you. Big time."

Peggy bit back her smile. "Oh really?"

"Mhm." (Y/N) was considering kissing Peggy again when someone picked up the phone. She whispered, "I need you to play along."

"What?"

(Y/N) held up one finger and held the phone away from both of them and began to breathe heavily. Distantly, they could hear Howard complaining about having to answer the phone. (Y/N) spoke over him saying, "Did we lose him?"

Peggy raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“Did we lose him, Peg?” she calls. “Can you see him?”

“No, I”m afraid I can’t.”

“Fuck.” She began to pant as she moved the receiver closer to herself. “Howard, are you there?”

“What the fuck is going on there?”

“You still have that place upstate, right?”

“You gotta tell me what the hell is happening first, (Y/N).”

“Peggy ‘n I have been working on a case on the side and we just got made. We need a place to lay low for a few days.”

“What the- you two haven’t talked in months!”

“That’s what we needed you to think.” She looked pointedly at Peggy, silently asking her to add something to the lie.

“(Y/N), we have to go. Do we have the house or not?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t said.”

“Is that Peggy?” (Y/N) confirmed it was “Put her on”

“We don’t have time, Howard. We need the address and a way to get in. Can we use the house or not?”

“Fine, yeah, fine! You can use the house.” Howard rattled off the address and told them where they could find the key

(Y/N) looked up at Peggy, grinned, and wiggled her eyebrows. “Thanks, you’re our hero right now.”

“(Y/N), we have to go, now!” Peggy cried.

“Shit, sorry, we gotta g-” (Y/N) hung up and tipped her head back and laughed. “And that’s how you trick the great Howard Stark.”

“Won’t he find out?”

“Not if we leave right now.”

(Y/N) grabbed Peggy’s hand and together they hurried out of the building.

Peggy spent the night at (Y/N)’s apartment and they stopped by Peggy’s place early the next morning to pack her things before they caught a taxi to their destination.

The cabin (Y/N) pictured was far from what they drove up to. It was more the size of a family home than an actual cabin. She muttered something about there being “such a thing as too much money.” Peggy simply laughed, took her hand, and led her into the house.

It was warm and inviting inside and far more furnished than (Y/N) had expected. Any time she’d been in a Stark residence previously, it had been far more minimalistic and, well… stark, for lack of a better word. But even just standing in the entryway, she couldn’t think of a better place to spend her first weekend alone with Peggy.

The house was so beautiful that it was almost a shame that the rooms that saw the most use were the kitchen and the bedroom they’d chosen to sleep in. But they spent the majority of their time wrapped up in each other in one way or another. And, honestly, who could blame them? After years of longing on (Y/N)’s part and months of misunderstandings, they simply wanted to take time away from everyone and everything to relearn each other. By the time they were on their way home, (Y/N) felt they’d done just that. And though, as promised, Peggy had no complaints, she couldn’t help thinking back to (Y/N)’s birthday when she’d said that Peggy didn’t know her as well as she knew Peggy. Sure, Peggy knew important surface level things that anyone close with (Y/N) would know, but she didn’t know the little things that (Y/N) seemed to know about her. She didn’t know her favorite color, which season she liked best, or how she took her tea. Hell, she didn’t know if (Y/N) even liked tea. Maybe she preferred coffee! Worst of all, she didn’t know how or why she started working with the SSR.

So, in an attempt to fill the gaps in her knowledge, Peggy began asking (Y/N) questions whenever she got the chance.

They started out simple. Innocent questions about her favorite sweets and whether she preferred cake or pie. But then she started asking bigger questions. And (Y/N) had already been suspicious of the smaller questions, but when Peggy graduated to asking about foods she’d made with her mother and who she went to prom with, sirens really started going off and she flashed back to months previous when Peggy had asked about liking women. But, she didn’t want to spook her, so she let her ask questions for two weeks before she said anything.

When she was ready, she waited for a night when they were both working late. After everyone had left for the night, (Y/N) let herself into Peggy’s office, locked the door, closed the blinds, and leaned against the door with her arms crossed.

“Okay,” she said. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You keep asking all these questions, and as cute as they are, it’s really starting to worry me.”

Peggy’s eyes went wide. “It is?”

“Baby, the last time you started asking a bunch of questions we fought and then I didn’t see you for three months. Of course I’m worried.”

Peggy pressed one hand to her forehead and leaned back in her chair. "I'm so sorry, darling. I hadn't even thought of that."

(Y/N) swiftly crossed the room and coaxed Peggy to her feet, gently rubbing her thumbs across the backs of her hands. She then traced her fingertips over her cheekbones before tucking Peggy's hair behind her ears, cupping her jaw, and kissing her. Peggy's shoulders relaxed, (Y/N) pulled away, led her to the couch, and sat her down on the middle cushion. (Y/N) sat next to her, body turned towards Peggy so she could hold her hand.

"Talk to me, Peg," she said. "What's going through your head?"

"After our weekend together, I realized that you were right. I don't know you as well as you know me. And of course I panicked and did the first thing I could think of. But all of this is so new to me and I didn’t want to mess things up.” She paused, took a deep breath, and sighed, “I suppose I did in the end though, didn’t it?”

(Y/N) frowned. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”

“I wanted to know more about you, but all I did was worry you.”

“Well you at least got some of the information you wanted, right?” Peggy nodded. “Then it wasn’t a total bust.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” She kissed Peggy’s knuckles. “I think we need to work on communication moving forward, though.”

Peggy chuckled. “I agree.”

“But in the future, you can ask me about anything you want. Just give me a warning first.”

"I can do that." Peggy pressed her lips together. "There's actually something I'd like to ask you about now, if I could."

"What is it?"

"Well, it's just that I don't know how you came to work for the SSR. You know my path to the agency, but I don't know yours."

"Oh." (Y/N) chuckled. "Okay, well that's an interesting story, actually."

Peggy smiled and scooted closer. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. See, I was working at the same diner that Angie works at now right out of high school-"

"Did you two know each other then?"

"No, but we met because of the diner. But when I was working there, I had this regular who was a P.I. Nice enough guy, didn't cause a fuss if his coffee got cold. Just showed up, ordered, ate, and left. Tipped well, too, if I'm remembering correctly. And maybe six months after he started showing up, he started bringing files with him. Eventually I got curious and asked him what they were for, but instead of just telling me, he opened the file he had that day and handed me a picture."

"Why?"

"He wanted my take on what was happening in the picture. It was of a woman walking down the street with a young boy. She had a duffel bag in hand and was glancing over her shoulder and her jacket was billowing out as she walked. My guess was that she was trying to get away from someone or something and that kid was probably her son. But I didn't give the guy an answer and just handed the picture back and said, y'know, "Look, guy, I don't want any trouble. I shouldn't've asked." But he asked my opinion again. So I gave it to him."

"And?"

"I was right. Turns out her husband had hired the P.I. to follow her and drag her back if necessary. But this guy wasn't that kind of private investigator. When he found out that the husband had laid hands on her, he immediately turned him in and helped her find a place to stay while she got back on her feet."

"What happened after?"

"He had me look at a few other things, tested my deduction skills, and he eventually asked me to come work for him. I quit working at the diner immediately after.”

“Just like that?”

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t even know this man.”

“I knew him well enough. At the time, he was in his late forties and headed towards thirty years married. If anyone would bother me, it wouldn’t be him.”

“You trusted him that easily?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Alan’s a good guy. And could you really blame me for taking his offer? Between the increase in pay and knowing I’d be doing far more interesting work. I would’ve been an idiot to just walk away.”

“And you liked working with him?”

“Oh absolutely! It was a constant learning opportunity. Kind of like I was being trained specifically for a position with the SSR. And, as it turns out, Alan was actually working with the SSR on the side.” Peggy raised her eyebrows and (Y/N) simply nodded. “He’d get a call and we’d look into whatever it was they couldn’t without turning the wrong heads. He slowly had me take over the SSR calls until it was my job alone.”

“And that’s how you became an agent, then.”

“Eh, not quite. Around the time you were sent to steal Erskine, the SSR was trying to recruit Alan. Something about needing every hand they could get to end the war. He hated the idea of being bossed around, so he recommended me as another option. They refused to meet with me for weeks, so I stopped filling their requests, which pissed them off, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“They begrudgingly set an interview and wound up hiring me when they realized they could get the same information I’d been gathering without paying Alan’s rates.”

“Ah, so they were being cheap.” Both women laughed. “Wait. How long did you work for Alan?”

“Uh… I wanna say about three or four years.”

“And Steve never knew about it?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I didn’t tell him or Bucky about it. They already worried about me enough in addition to Steve’s health. They didn’t need anything else added on top.” Peggy frowned and (Y/N) bumped their shoulders together. “But I met you because of that job.”

“That is true… The three of you were so close, though. I hate to think you had to keep your job a secret.”

“With those two, there was a huge difference between keeping something a secret and withholding information until the right time. And that difference was Steve hiding his asthma attacks from us versus me hiding a bad grade.”

“Why would he lie?”

“Steve was sick most of his life. A major side effect of that was him feeling like a waste of money. He hated how expensive medications were, and for a while Bucky was the only one who was able to to work full time. We struggled to make ends meet sometimes and he was far too aware of that. I almost strangled him when I found out.” She leaned back against the couch. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“No, I understand. You and I come from very different backgrounds.” Peggy squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course.” (Y/N) sighed. “Sometimes I really miss that skinny little money sink. He’d still be sick, of course, but he’d at least be here.” She shook her head and shoved herself up from the couch. “Let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

Peggy nodded and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She kissed (Y/N) and cupped her jaw with one gentle hand.

“I miss him too,” she murmured.

(Y/N) nodded and smiled sadly. “I know, Peg. You’re the only one who understands.”

“Wow.” Steve blinks slowly. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about the PI job.”

“Of course you can.”

“Well yeah, I just mean… It sounds like something she would’ve been excited to talk about. I feel bad that my health stood in the way of that.”

“That’s not how she felt, Steve. And she wouldn’t want you to believe she did.”

Steve nods. “She was good, right?”

Peggy smiled. “Oh, without a doubt. She worked more cases solo than I can count and oversaw the intelligence collection division for nearly a decade.”

“That must be why everyone remembers her.”

“Well… not entirely. There was a time when Howard was toying with reviving Project Rebirth. (Y/N) was his first choice for early trials due to her relation to you.”

Steve looks horrified. “She wouldn’t go through with that.”

"I had hoped she wouldn't, but she was determined to. Something about continuing what you started."

"That's never what I wanted." Steve shakes his head. "All I wanted was to keep her and anyone else we could save along the way safe."

"I know. And she had so much of that same fire in her, Steve. You set a wonderful example for her. For all of us, really. Much of what we did wouldn’t have been possible, had you not taken up the shield.”

Steve sighs. “What happened?”

(Y/N) and Peggy had nine months of peace between incidents. They spent any free time that they had together. Finding any was a miracle in and of itself given they might very well have been eternally tethered to their desks. Peggy slowly grew more comfortable in her new relationship, though she slowly learned that she needed to be more cautious than she’d ever been before. Being in a queer relationship was far too similar to an undercover mission for her liking, but she found herself so taken with (Y/N) that she decided that it was worth the risk. (Y/N) had decided years before that she was content with simply yearning from afar, so actually being in a relationship with Peggy was already far enough away from loving her in secret that she was over the moon.

But there’s always something that has to come along and disturb the peace, and more often than not, for (Y/N) and Peggy, that something came in the form of Howard Stark.

Howard was good at showing up at the most inopportune times, mostly when (Y/N) and Peggy had just found a space to be alone at the office. Peggy talked her lover down from strangling the man enough times that it’d gone far past humorous and edged right into grating. When he burst in on them on the couch in her office, she was about ready to end his life herself. (Y/N) had very gently talked her out of it.

But this time was different.

This time he approached with an air of apprehension and both women were almost worried to ask what was on his mind. Luckily, Howard Stark was the kind of man to freely offer that information.

When he saw their raised eyebrows he said, “I kept a vial of Steve’s blood.”

Peggy was furious, to say the least. “You said I had the last one.”

“Wait.” (Y/N) frowned. “You had my brother’s blood and neither of you bothered to tell me?”

"It was years ago," Howard said. "Can we circle back around to this later?"

His flippancy only served to piss her off. "We'll circle back around to fuckall later, you tell me what the hell you, or anyone else for that matter, have or have had my brother's blood for."

Peggy and Howard fumbled through their explanation. She knew that most of the time she spent grieving over Steve was spent in a haze, but she never realized what her colleagues had been going through without her. As much as she wanted to be upset, she found her anger melting away the longer they spoke.

"I should have just told you," Peggy said. "You should've been there with me."

(Y/N) shook her head. "You needed that time to say goodbye to him." She turned her wrath on Howard. "Why do you still have his blood?"

"I found it by chance after we moved into this building. My guess is that it was left over from some tech we hired who’d been hoarding it since they were given their sample. I’ve been holding into it ever since.”

“That was years ago.”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“Look, can you reprimand me later? I think I’ve figured out how to recreate Project Rebirth.”

“You what?”

“You heard me.” Howard looked between both women to confirm he had their attention. “The serum is still very much present in the sample I found. If I can isolate it, I should be able to move forward with Erskine’s research.”

Peggy scowled. “Why?”

“Wh-because we had one of the greatest scientific miracles fighting on our side, and even without a war, we still need someone like that fighting for our ideals.”

“That sounds dangerous,” (Y/N) said. “Do you understand how far outside of Steve’s beliefs you’re stepping with this?”

“He’d understand.”

“No he fucking wouldn’t.”

“Fine, but we can’t just not take this opportunity. You know Russia’s probably working towards a viable Super Soldier serum as we speak. Can we really just sit back and wait for them to beat us at our own game?”

“And just who would you propose to test this serum on?” Peggy inquired.

“Well, considering we’re taking the serum directly from Steve’s blood, my first choice would be (Y/N).”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you.”

“Christ, Howard, what’re you thinking?”

“That you’re just as noble and dedicated as your brother. I’m sure the serum would affect you similarly to the way it did Steve.”

“Is it even safe?”

“Hypothetically, yes.”

“Meaning you haven’t extracted enough serum to know yet.”

“Kind of.”

“Very reassuring.”

“But you’ll do it, right?”

“I don’t know-”

Peggy cut in, saying, “No.”

“Peggy-”

“I’m not letting you do this,” Peggy said. “That’s final.”

“That’s not fair. And not even because I want to do this. I’m not all that jazzed about getting stuck with more needles than I have fingers and toes, but because that wasn’t the Director talking. That was Peggy.”

“To hell with being the Director, it’s not safe. You’re not doing it.”

“It wasn’t safe when Steve was the one on the table.”

“We don’t have Erskine.”

“We have Howard.”

Peggy lowered her voice. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Her brows knitted in worry and (Y/N)’s fingers itched with the need to take her hand. “I can’t lose you too, (Y/N). Especially not like this.”

“You won’t,” (Y/N) whispers.

Howard cleared his throat and watched in mild amusement as the two women jumped apart. “As sweet as your bickering is,” he said, “It’s not exactly a matter of whether or not the serum will work, but to what extent.”

Peggy frowned. “Explain.”

“Well, we’re taking the serum directly from her brother’s blood. It’s already diluted in that form, so I can’t tell you just how much change we’d see. I only suggested it because the two of them are related. Their DNA is similar enough that I believe the risk would be significantly reduced.”

Peggy nodded and (Y/N) grabbed her hand and said, “We’ll do it then.”

“(Y/N)-”

She turned pleading eyes on Peggy. “Come on, Peg. You know how much good my brother did. What if this’ll let us pick up where he left off?”

“I don’t know…” Peggy did her best, but couldn’t hold out against (Y/N)’s silent begging and acquiesced. “Fine. You’ll go through with the procedure.”

(Y/N) simply smiled and squeezed Peggy’s hand. Neither of them noticed Howard watching them or the little smile that played at his lips.

“So, when did this happen?” he asked, gesturing between them.

(Y/N)’s smile fell and she dropped Peggy’s hand like a hot iron. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please, I watched Peggy mope around for months after you started working nights and then you suddenly came back and you’re both happier than ever. Either you did something about those longing glances, or you went on some kind of friend's retreat.” He raised one eyebrow. “That is, if you actually did something about it.”

“We might’ve,” (Y/N) squeaked.

“That’s great!” Howard placed a hand on either of his friend’s shoulders. “Your secret’s safe with me, ladies. I promise.”

Neither of them relaxed, but (Y/N) later mentioned to Peggy that she appreciated the sentiment, especially coming from Howard. He hadn’t even made it a week before he told them he knew they’d lied to him about why they needed his place upstate. So, as much as (Y/N) appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut. Even so, they took it a day at a time and were thankful that he did, in fact, manage to hold in the jokes when they were in mixed company.

Howard came to them three months later with news about his serum. He was ready to go through with the procedure, provided (Y/N) was. They scheduled it for the following Friday to allow time to allocate the necessary resources and avoid another blackout.

When the day of the procedure arrived, (Y/N) was far more calm than she expected to be. Peggy, however, was on the brink of a panic attack. She fussed over her love for the entire morning and refused to go to the observation room, determined to be on the floor if something were to go wrong. Again.

(Y/N) sat on a stool beside the Vita-Ray chamber and watched Peggy pace back and forth while the nurses fussed over her and prepared for the procedure.

“Peg, it’ll be fine.” Peggy didn’t seem to hear her, so she reached out and stopped her. Peggy blinked, slowly registering what was happening. “Hey. Do you want to talk somewhere private?”

“The procedure-”

“Howard.” (Y/N) flagged him down and gestured to the hallway. “We’re gonna be right back, okay?”

He waved her off and (Y/N) led Peggy down the hall to an unused room. With the door firmly closed, she wrapped Peggy up in her arms and leaned against the wall.

“It’s gonna be fine, baby.”

“If you’re wrong, I will kill you.” Peggy buried her face in (Y/N)’s shoulder. “You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Guaranteed.” She took Peggy’s face in her hands and kissed her. “I love you. Okay?” Peggy nodded. “Okay.”

Before (Y/N) could pull away, Peggy kissed her. And (Y/N) melted a little, because Peggy very seldom let herself be vulnerable with anyone, let alone in public. So she skimmed her hands up and down Peggy's sides and kissed her for as long as she needed. And when Peggy was ready, they returned to the procedure room. (Y/N) was immunized just as Steve had been, and lay back in the Vita-Ray chamber. She gave Peggy a thumbs up as the chamber doors closed.

The infusion was the most painful thing (Y/N) could remember, and the pain was all she could focus on in the moment. The infusion didn’t take long, but it was loud and bright and white hot and felt like it was everywhere, inside and out of (Y/N)’s body. She bit her tongue bloody to tamp down the scream at the back of her throat as one last surge of searing pain ripped through her. She could faintly hear Peggy shout before everything just… stopped. The sound and the light and the ceaseless, stabbing pain was gone and (Y/N) felt immensely heavy.

As the chamber opened, (Y/N) barely registered the hands helping her into an examination room. She was placed on a table and she clung to the edge so tightly that she heard the metal groan within her grip. Then Peggy appeared directly in front of her and gently uncurled her fingers from the table.

“Please tell me I’m not as big as Steve was,” (Y/N) murmured. Her voice came out strangled and scratchy.

Peggy choked out a laugh and wiped tears from under her eyes before she shook her head. “No, darling, you’re not. Not even close.”

(Y/N) sighed and nodded. “Can I lie down? I feel…” her stomach lurched- “I feel nauseous.”

“Of course. Nurse Cain just needs to take your vitals, and then you can rest. Is that alright?”

She nodded and the nurse’s cold hands worked over her with incredible speed. As soon as she was finished, Peggy reappeared with a pillow, blanket, and chair. She helped (Y/N) lie back and got her comfortable before taking a seat beside her. She held (Y/N)’s hand while she rested.

(Y/N) was held overnight for observation and Peggy stayed with her. Instead of springing back to life as Steve had, (Y/N) spiked a major fever and put the entire staff working that night on red alert when she slept through with only signs of mild discomfort.

Her fever went down around seven the next morning.

Peggy insisted that they take a week away from the office for (Y/N) to recover. She’d done her best to protest, but (Y/N) never really could say no to Peggy, so she agreed.

It took a couple days for (Y/N) to properly regain her balance. When she finally managed to hobble to the bathroom to get a look at herself, she barely recognized the woman in the mirror. The person staring back at her was a good three inches taller and broader in the shoulders than (Y/N) had ever dreamed of being. Her eyes very nearly popped out of her head at the way the fabric of her shirt strained across her chest when she stood up straight and proper.

She flexed one arm and, fascinated, watched the way muscles she was never aware of having bunched and moved beneath her skin. She did it again and watched herself in the mirror.

“Christ, that’s impressive.”

“Yes, you certainly are.”

(Y/N) looked up and Peggy was leaning against the bathroom door frame. She turned and leaned against the sink.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I was quiet.” Peggy slowly approached and trailed her fingers over (Y/N)’s jaw, down her neck, shoulder, and arm. “It’s good to see you moving around.”

“Well I can’t exactly get back to work if I lay in bed all day, now can I?”

“I suppose not. But I won’t allow you back into the office till next week at the earliest.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I’m lucky to be upright at the moment, I’m not eager to keel over on my first day back.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peggy smiled. “You’re actually going to listen to me?”

“I always listen to you. Whether or not I do as I’m told is an entirely different issue.”

“Mm, I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe expect more strict instructions with future assignments.”

“Can we talk about something other than work?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She bit her lip and grabbed Peggy’s hand. “You really think I look impressive?”

“I think that you in your entirety are impressive. But you certainly strike an imposing figure now.” Her eyes roved appreciatively over (Y/N)’s body. “And you did say you always wanted to be strong, dreamy, and capable. Now you’re all three.”

(Y/N) pulled Peggy to her chest and circled her arms around her waist. “And I wasn’t before?”

“You were, but in varying degrees.”

“Oh?”

“Well you’re certainly stronger now. You were already incredibly dreamy and far more capable than any man would freely admit.” Peggy braced herself on (Y/N)’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re mine, though. I’d be scared to send you back out into the wild if you weren’t.”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered. “I love you.”

Peggy smiled. “I love you too.”

“You do?”

Peggy nodded and (Y/N) immediately kissed her. Peggy wound her fingers into (Y/N)’s hair and kissed her back. When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, (Y/N) very quietly asked Peggy to move in with her.

“You want that?”

“Desperately.” Peggy raised her eyebrows. “We don’t have to live here, specifically. My lease is up at the end of this year. We can look for a little two bedroom, or-or a house, maybe. If you wanted.”

“You’d want to buy a house together? That’s a huge commitment, darling.”

“You’re it for me, Peg. There’s no one who comes after you. Building a home with you would be a dream come true. But if that’s too much-”

Peggy covered (Y/N)’s mouth with one hand. “I’d love to live with you. But we have to worry about your health first.”

“Okay.” (Y/N) sighed. “I’ll have to get a whole new wardrobe, won’t I?”

Peggy chuckled at (Y/N)’s disappointed frown. “Most likely, yes.”

(Y/N) groaned. “I didn’t think this through.”

“It’s an expense necessitated by work. The agency will cover half.”

“Really?”

“Well I can’t offer to pay for the whole thing. Someone will think I’m playing favorites.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone stumbling into that secret, now would we?”

(Y/N) spent the rest of the week acclimating to her new body. Peggy was a great help in reminding her to be patient with herself after she crushed several eggs before she could even crack them into a bowl.

When she was finally permitted to go back to work, she spent more time in the gym under Howard’s observation than in her own office. Which was fine by her. She was stuck wearing second-hand men’s suits, t-shirts, and sweatpants until her new clothing was ready. Even when she was wearing her own clothing, the atmosphere in the office was uncomfortable. People would stop mid-conversation to watch her walk by. She even saw someone walk into a wall once. It felt like she’d be transported back to Steve’s death, but this time everyone who stared was too scared to ask questions.

(Y/N) realized, too late, that she hadn’t thought about what would happen after the procedure. She knew there would be tests and all manner of questions from Howard and his team. She hadn’t anticipated the social repercussions. Steve hadn’t been looked at like a freak, so why would it be any different for her? But feeling their eyes on her back day in and day out just made her want to hide. (Y/N) tried to distract herself from all of it, but Peggy was watching. She’d seen everything and hated the way (Y/N) retreated into herself with each passing week.

Peggy took matters into her own hands and organized a meeting with everyone (Y/N) regularly came into contact with during the work week. (Y/N) only heard about the meeting after it happened. She never knew what was said. Just that anyone who made it out of the meeting with their job changed their behavior dramatically. The staring and hushed whispered went away and the colleagues who were obviously still curious were far more willing to ask their questions instead of obviously watching her from behind a file.

Once Howard was satisfied with the data gathered on her physical abilities, (Y/N) was cleared for field work. Peggy assigned her to assist the head of their intelligence task-force and she was given the cases that a normal team couldn’t handle. The ones that required the strength of multiple men, but boasted too much security for that to be feasible. The assignments were rate, but (Y/N) enjoyed them regardless.

“Did you ever move in together?”

“Oh yes, two months after the procedure. She was just as fond of getting into trouble as you are. At least I could keep an eye on her if we were under the same roof. And we wound up buying a house several years down the road once we’d settled on a permanent headquarters. I didn’t see any reason to waste money on more than one house, if we could help it.”

Steve smiles. “I’m glad you found each other. I know you would’ve been fine. People are drawn to you. But (Y/N)… she never did well on her own, but never wanted to ask for help. I’m not sure what would’ve happened to her.”

“I’m sure we would have found each other eventually. Life has a funny way of bringing people together.”

“Will you tell me what happened to her?”

Peggy reaches out and Steve takes her hand. “I want you to remember that (Y/N) and I had almost six decades together. She was beautiful, strong, warm, and vibrant. She was my everything, Steve.”

“I know, Peg.”

“She started feeling lethargic one day. Over the course of several weeks, she lost her appetite, had severe blood pressure drops, and she bruised like an overripe peach. Now, by this time her healing factor had faded some, but she’d never been prone to injury even before the serum. I was concerned, but she didn’t want to worry me, so she didn’t see a doctor. But then she had a particularly nasty fall and was rushed to the hospital.” Peggy’s breath shook. “I told the attending about her recent issues, they ordered some tests and the diagnosis was… less than desirable.”

“What was it?”

“She had leukemia.” Steve flounders for something to say, but Peggy doesn’t seem to notice. “We started aggressive treatment right away, but this was right around the time that Anthony was abducted. The stress took a lot out of her, but she was determined to see her nephew again.”

“Nephew?”

“Yes, Howard named us Tony’s godparents. He called both (Y/N) and I his aunts. And (Y/N) loved him dearly. She managed to hold on long enough for him to visit one last time before she passed.” Peggy smiles. “She was so happy to see him, too.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

“Mm, she was also far more lucid than anyone in her condition had any business being. At the time, I chalked it up to you Rogers’ and your unfailing stubbornness, but now I think it was just her. With her strength gone, all she had left was her mind.”

“Did she pass peacefully?”

“Yes. Yes, I think she did. There was a time where she thought you and Sergeant Barnes were there with her. That was when I knew she didn’t have much longer. And just before she faded, she told me that you had stepped out and she said… she said “Tell my brothers I love them.” And then-” Peggy shakes her head, her gaze distant- “She was gone. Quiet and peaceful and gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve wipes tears from his eyes.

“Oh don’t be. She was perfect. I only wish you’d had more time to spend together.”

Steve squeezes her hand. “It wouldn’t have been the same if I was there. And some things really do happen for a reason, y’know? We just don’t know it till we’re far enough down the line to see the whole picture.”

A knock at the door draws both Steve and Peggy’s attention. The nurse from earlier pokes their head in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” they say. “But visiting hours are over.”

“Alright.” Steve smiles at Peggy, squeezes her hand, and gets up to leave.

Before he can get too far, Peggy exclaims, “Oh, Steve!”

“Yeah?”

“Before I forget, (Y/N) left something for you.”

“For me?” Steve suspects her lucidity is slipping.

“She had a feeling you weren’t truly gone. She’d done some research and compiled it for you. Director Fury should have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“Okay.” Steve steps toward the door. “I’ll see you again soon, alright?”

“Of course.”

Yeah, this is definitely the gayest thing I’ve ever written. In the best way possible, of course. It’s been a lot of fun to explore this side of attraction and romance for me (as someone who doesn’t really get to do that) and I’m really excited to get started on the third chapter. It’ll be a bit different from the story that’s been told up until this point, so I think it’ll be a fun departure.

But! That being said, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! Do you think that the Reader and Peggy make a good pair? Do you think that it was a mistake for the Reader to take the Serum? Did hearing about her passing make you sad? Do you think it was a good thing that Peggy was the one to talk to him about it? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101-blog, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @buckysendoftheline, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @feelmyroarrrr, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @darling-loki, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @lemonadeorange73, @princess-unicorn124, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @avengerscompound

This fic:

@i-m-r-borges, @lizielasyd

#peggy carterxreader #readerxpeggy carter #peggy carter x reader #reader x peggy carter #peggy carter #agent carter #agent peggy carter #reader insert marvel fic

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sevyspams · 2 years ago

Text

i would’ve stayed on my knees, and i am damn sure i never would’ve danced with that devil.

The members of the family stood with splendor matching their last name in exquisiteness. Like the matriarch Raiden Ei, they are all resolute and forthright. In the presence of a second harbinger, Dottore, she stood by their side.

A homewrecker, the man who sought to tear this impenetrable family apart. The man, who was so keen to try new things, also tested what would happen if he divided up this family. A family started by a puppet as well.

‘What a blessing it would be to have a family of one's own—a loving family like this.’ "Take my Electro Gnosis with you," Seree remained at the back of the group. Ei shoved her aside. She stayed holding the Dendro, Electro, and Anemo Gnosis close to her. "Get the other four.”

“Where shall I go?” she asked, her hazy eyes gazing up at the Archon with a gaping posture. The Archon did not respond as she turned away from her and returned to tend to her family. The puppet was left there by herself, her head bowed. ‘Ah. I only need the Gnoses. Nothing more.’

Inwardly nodding, Seree drew the three Gnosis closer to her bruised and frail frame. Her eyes were shut in suffering as she painstakingly limped away from the scene of the turmoil, leaving the area where the chaos occurred.

But after taking a false turn, she staggered and dropped the three Gnosis in front of her. Her eyes widened as she crawled to approach the formidable, deadly relics of this realm. She drew the three of them closer to her as she curled up next to a waterbank.

Due to the Gnoses' adverse effects, her hands became crisp and pallid. It was trembling from the pain and the cold. Her grayish-charcoal hands were scarred with writhing, bleeding, withered, scorched, and further lesions. The synthetic skin covering it is hardly visible.

The Puppet was already exhausted, beaten, and damaged, but it seemed as though her body was designed to move. She was never intended to stop, so the only thing she could do was keep going without turning around.

Seree took a quick look at the glowing objects in her palms. Her lungs produced a brief but sharp cough as she wiped away the blood that it carried. The Puppet knew immediately that the end was imminent. She shouldn't let the world's material possessions and emotive entities limit her.

She wouldn't even remain long in this place. All she could do was return to her feet and focus on finding the other Gnosis. “Right. I shouldn’t stop.”

Because she will only be able to stop once she is dead.

disclaimers; this was inspired by a roleplay me and my moots did at our discord server. so if the lore doesn't align with the original genshin lore—it's because it really isn't the genshin lore.

#files: puppet #document: canonau!#sevy: au stuff

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bittlebarnes · 3 years ago

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Let’s Talk

If you wanna skip the messiness and go to solutions, skip to the last four paragraphs and the resource list.

I know I’m one (probably loud, probably annoying) voice in a sea of many, but my spirit won’t let me rest until there is some kind of rectification. This is going to be it. If you’ve followed me for a while, you know this isn’t normal for me (and I don’t plan to do it in the future so don’t get used to it). I stick to my own corner of the internet and mind my business, but for now, we’re going to break the fandom wall a bit and talk about harm. As always in these discussions, I choose to practice reflexivity. I am a 27-year-old Black, pansexual, cisgender woman. I’ve been writing fanfiction for about 14 years. Because it’s relevant to this essay, my Master’s is in counseling with a specialty in BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ issues. My ongoing dissertation for my doctorate is on the intersections of race, sexuality, trauma, and cluster b personality disorders. I train new counselors on how to develop cultural humility and practice therapy with multicultural competency. If you’re new to the concept of reflexivity, know that these factors do not serve to claim that I am above reproach but instead serve as a clear understanding of my specific voice and lens. I’m trying to put aside my hurt feelings (and the urge to really dig in my heels and be nasty because the west end of Louisville wants to jump out, don’t let the job title fool you I still knuck and buck) and instead lead with empathy. I do not promise to be good at that, but I’m choosing to try to choose to “call in” rather than “call out.” At the end of this essay, I will also include a series of educational resources to aid in this discussion and provide further education.

I’m aware that Cor is gone, but as her impacts are still being felt, I intend to include her in this conversation. I will not be including screenshots because that feels disrespectful to me, but I will include relevant statements in quotation marks. For those of you who don’t know, Cor and I were paired together for the Buddie Big Bang. We worked collaboratively for several months and, on June 22nd, talked about selecting our posting date. On the 23rd, Cor contacted me in discord to inform me she was dropping from the big bang because she felt the “underlying themes” of my work were racist and that she could not in good conscience continue to work with me. I requested elaboration, but she did not respond. The way she phrased things, she made it seem like she had shared my work with “the BIPOC around me” as well as the mods of her server without my knowledge. Later, when pressed about this, she admitted that she had discussed my work with another individual without my knowledge or consent, which lent legitimacy to my concerns. Because of this, I chose to leave her server, not knowing that when you don’t share a discord server, you can’t talk to someone (I’m a Twitter girl like all the other therapists). Because of this, I tried to re-enter the server with the intention of leaving after I and the mods spoke. Seeing my request, Cor finally reached back out, apologized for “the way I phrased things,” and gave a surface-level explanation of the tropes of the white savior and spicy Latina, claiming that my fic fit into these tropes because Buck and Adriana are in opposition to one another. Personally, I encourage you to read it for yourself and draw your own conclusions but suffice to say, I did not agree. She informed me that she was attempting to protect me from “being torn down” like other authors she had observed during the blowback of the situation™ on her server. (Genuinely, I had no idea what she was talking about (I just caught up). I work 10-hour days, so I miss a lot. [Also now that I think about it, Cor trying to save me and be more “educated” than me literally places her in a white savior position. The jokes…well you know what they do.)

Again, I’m not beyond reproach. Because I always want to be reflexive, I shared my draft with my writing community, which consists of about 25 Black and Brown writers. They were confused about the claim. I was confused about the claim. We were all confused. I again attempted to engage Cor on this, but she was immovable. At this point, I wanted to discourse with someone other than her, so I contacted the 118 discord Tumblr account. It was still Cor. She made it appear that she had made the move to bar me from re-entry to the server (just to talk to her) not in isolation, but in collaboration with others (who? I didn’t know and no one else would answer me.) The conversation continued to be unproductive. She continued to emphasize the “immense amount of education [on race and racism in fic] that I have received over the last 10 days.” I will disclose that this is the point where I really started to get really pissed. There is something very activating about a white woman who’s been educated for 10 days trying to “educate” me on racist tropes while not being open to a perspective other than her own. In response to this, I chose to drop out of the big bang and upload the fic I wrote with a note calling attention to the claims (at this point, I hadn’t known who she had or hadn’t talked to and I was preparing myself for backlash.) If I had made a mistake, I wanted to face it head-on and open myself up to correction. I never want to cause harm with my writing and if I have, call me all the way out. We’ll discuss. We’ll confer. Changes will be made. The feedback I received was a resounding “WTF is she talking about,” which again pissed me off. When I again approached Cor with this, she gave (what felt to me like) a half-assed apology. We did not speak again, and there was never an attempt to rectify the situation despite the harm caused and I realized that had I not reached out to her, she would never have apologized. I was very upset about the experience, and when I noticed that Squid commented on it without ever speaking to me at all, I felt a type of way. I’ve tried to put to words this feeling, and I’ve decided that it felt like I was being left out of my own narrative. You could acknowledge that harm was done when speaking about me to others but couldn’t part your lips to speak to me about it until I tugged on your wig. It also again gave the impression that Cor’s decision had not been made in isolation. Language matters. Phrases like “our server,” and “we made the choice,” and “we weren’t comfortable with what might come from it” make this seem not like an individual action but the actions of a collective.

We’ve now gone from pissed to volcanic. I’ve kicked and screamed and cried and felt like shit and it all feels like it was for nothing.

But we move on.

Why do I still care so much, you may be asking. At the end of the day, this is conversation that is less about race and more about communication. Direct communication to be specific. When Cor came to the mods and made her claim, an easy way to rectify this situation quickly would have been to simply reach out and ask questions. “Can we read your draft?” “We have some concerns and we want to make our decision fairly.” I would have readily agreed and hurt could have been avoided. After everything came out, there still was no communication. There’s a saying: silence is complicity. Silence implies agreement (no matter how passive) with an action taken. Staying silent also puts the onus to correct the situation on the person who was harmed rather than the person (or people) who caused harm. It’s an inequitable shifting of power. This could have been resolved simply by someone be it Cor, be it a mod, anyone even passively involved choosing to reach out and say, “hey, we fucked up. We made a mistake and while we don’t want to let you back into the server, we acknowledge that it wasn’t right. We’re sorry.” It’s simple. This action requires a degree of humility and awareness. The fact that people had to be badgered into apologizing directly to me is, for lack of a better words, fucked up. It says to me that you’re not really sorry. You’re just saying what you have to in hopes that I’ll stop talking about this.

In the future, know that direct communication almost always leads to better outcomes. It’s what I teach my students, my interns, and my clients. Direct communication is a sign of respect. This all could have been avoided with an acknowledgement of harm and communication. We didn’t have to fight like this. I’m so frustrated that I had to get out of my character to get someone to say “sorry.” Maybe it’s a cultural difference but when I wrong someone, I go to that person, I don’t make excuses, I acknowledge what I did and I attempt to repair.

And since people want to talk about the racial implications of things, I think there is a conversation to be had about a group of white or white appearing women who know they did something wrong choosing to stay quiet and refusing to acknowledge that they wronged a Black woman, especially after I called attention to the fact that I was hurt. And when I do complain and make noise, I’m “wearing you out.” I think that’s very interesting and if you all want to talk about “underlying racist themes,” I would unpack that statement. Ask yourself where that’s coming from. Some of you are wielding these terms with very specific definitions, implications, and connotations, like a child wielding a gun and then acting surprised when someone is shot unintentionally.

Imma leave that alone though. Here’s so resources. Disclaimers: I am Black. Most of my resources are catered towards Black authors and Black thought. It pays to speak to diverse voices and discover your own diverse resources. Don’t burden people but seek out people who are interested in educating. They exist. Also, always check your local libraries and locally owned bookstores before renting or buying books from Amazon! Links are just provided, so you know what you’re looking for.

Why "Allies" Need to Learn to Knock

How NOT to be an Ally (BMB #14) Start at 14 min

White Tears/Brown Scars: How White Feminism Betrays Women of Color

killing rage: Ending Racism

I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness

All the White Friends I Couldn't Keep: Hope--and Hard Pills to Swallow--About Fighting for Black Lives

Tagging: @chromatophorica, @sadieyuki @aros_sage

#lynn speaks #911 #911 discourse #118 discord #buddie big bang 2022 #one last time with feeling #now that i've calmed down #i can put my academic hat on #i ate a snickers #and talked to my community #long post #if you say this is mean trust me the first draft was worse #this was very cathartic #i talked to my mom (a professor of black studies ironically)#and we talked for hours about what this needed to look like

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meliorist-midoriya · 4 years ago

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chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt!

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden.

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to.

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward.

A minute passed…

Then another…

Then five…

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but).

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly.

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new.

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past.

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort.

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life?

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier.

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him.

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.”

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.) only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment.

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.)

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?”

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt.

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in.

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once—

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens.

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day.

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance.

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.”

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town.

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give.

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.”

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.”

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!”

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?”

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar.

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—”

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other.

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.”

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you.

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do.

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt.

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.”

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape.

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on.

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer.

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three…

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?)

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.)

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death. What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building.

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city.

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right.

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth.

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?”

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement.

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.”

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.”

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you.

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies.

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came.

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped.

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms.

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.”

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was.

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better.

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load.

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all?

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox.

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message.

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you.

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed…

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he?

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture).

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind.

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise.

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around.

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?”

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront.

A flower shop, in this secluded side street?

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch.

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…”

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha oneshot #hawks x reader angst #mha oneshot #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #reincarnation au #from the typewriter #pocuties #cw death #tw death #cw blood #tw blood #cw war #tw war #if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!

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