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aceofshitposts · 2 years

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All Roads To The Sea - Chapter Two

Hope y'all are ready for this ;) ALSO forgot to give a shout out to Mandy yesterday for helping come up with Danger's name! (which i think took and turned into a reference for an old ass radio play i have memorized 😂) AND to kriz for cheerleading me, yasmin and galkyrie for doing sprints with me :) never would've gotten any of this done without them! ao3 chapter will be up in the morning as i am scheduling this to post at midnight because i desperately need to go to bed

hope you all enjoy!!

Jaytim Week Day 2 - Summer Storm

One

Thankfully, they stop for a quick thirty minute break in a small town around midday. Tim doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful to leave air conditioning and step into the unforgiving late June heat in his life. He would do anything to get away from Danger right now.

The hours had been filled by Danger’s incessant chatter, more overexaggerated, ego inflating drivel that, while annoying, Tim can ultimately tolerate. Until, of course, Danger had decided he needed to give Tim bedroom advice about Chrys. No amount of denial would make it past the reflective surface of Danger’s stupid aviator sunglasses, so Tim stopped trying. The only reprieve he got from Danger telling him in explicit detail of his own sexual escapades was when the song Danger Zone came on over the radio and Danger had turned up the volume and sang the entire thing wildly off key.

Looking over his shoulder as he speed walks away from the vehicle, under the pretense that he really had to go to the bathroom, Tim sees one of the new interns get caught in Danger’s orbit. He winces, the intern’s face quickly changing from awe to abject horror the longer Danger keeps running his mouth.

Oh well.

Better them than Tim at the moment.

Maybe if he was lucky and stalled long enough he could get in one of the other cars, with hopefully someone sane and quiet as driver.

Tim bypasses the McDonalds, which was currently enjoying the influx in customers, and heads straight for the local bank to withdraw three thousand dollars. It would be a suspicious withdrawal in hindsight, when his parents and no doubt the government came knocking but Tim would be long gone by the time they thought to.

After all, nobody was going to expect the son of the top investors in this project to go rogue.

A mistake Tim only needed them to make once.

By the time the half hour is over Tim has a bag of seven inch nails tucked away in his backpack, an emergency first aid kit, a high powered flashlight, two bottles of sleeping pills, a small toolkit and a canister of bear spray.

Chrys is standing by the back of the trailer, talking softly to the intern that Danger had accosted earlier. She looks up, meeting Tim’s eyes. Tim raises his backpack, wiggling slightly with a grin on his face. Chrys raises an eyebrow, mouthing, “later,” at him before turning away and climbing back into the truck.

Unfortunately, Danger has been waiting for him.

“What’cha got there, kiddo? Did’ya mosey on over to the liquor store to romance your girl?” Danger tilts down his sunglasses to look at him over the rims in a move Tim is sure is meant to be intimidating. Tim gives it a six out of ten.

“Uh, yeah, some wine, y’know…” Tim trails off with a shrug, immensely hoping Danger drops it.

There’s a beat of terse silence while Danger stares where Tim considers upping his intimidating rating up to an eight before Danger throws his head back and guffaws.

“Good on ‘ya, kid! You’re taking after ‘Ol Danger already.”

Oh, gross, Tim thinks plastering on a placid smile while Danger claps him on the back harder than he really had to and leads him back towards the SUV.

The hours blur together for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Tim tries to occupy the time by reading a murder mystery paperback he picked up in the last town, hoping that whatever questions Danger asks him could be answered by a quick, “mmhmm.” Luckily, Danger seems more interested at this point just in the sound of his own voice and Tim can safely tune out his off key singing to focus on the novel.

Well, as focused as one could get in a moving vehicle while cooking up subterfuge.

Luckily, Tim is excellent at multitasking.

The sun is low on the horizon when they pull into the next motel on their stop. It’s a squat set of buildings just off the highway, one neon sign towering above them declaring vacancy. Tim watches in fascination as Doctor Hadley orders the two interns around, instructing them to hook up a hose to a nearby fire hydrant while another hose expels the used water into the desert ground.

“You’re planning to romance your girl tonight, yeah?” Danger asks, sidling up to Tim’s side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He seems to be in a good mood, which definitely bodes well for Tim.

She has a name, Tim thinks to himself even as he nods. If Danger thinks he has plans with Chrys maybe he won’t try to drag Tim to the nearby roadside bar with him and the four off duty guards.

Danger bares his teeth in what Tim hopes is an approximation of a grin. “Good, good. You know where to find me if she ices you out but knowing you I’m sure she’ll be putting out in no time. And hey, maybe we’ll both get lucky tonight!”

Danger laughs at his own perceived joke, once again clapping Tim on the back and Tim’s going to have a bruise from Danger doing that at this rate. Tim really, really hates this man.

By whatever grace of god or otherwise, Danger leaves Tim to put his things away from the car (a single suitcase and his backpack, honestly) and is nowhere to be seen when Tim exits back into the parking lot afterwards.

Doctor Hadley is standing outside the truck, looking through a clipboard while the interns putter about with the hose.

“Can I help?”

Hadley snorts, glancing up from his notes at Tim. “That’s hardly your concern. I don’t need sheltered socialites making a mess of my work.”

Huh. Hadley certainly didn’t pull his punches. Tim isn’t sure which he likes less: Danger’s lack of proper boundaries and overfriendliness or Hadley’s obvious disdain for everyone he deemed beneath him.

Too bad for Hadley, Tim had a lot of experience being underestimated.

“Right, I’m your supervisor, technically,” Tim hums, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I should be taking your report for the day, then.”

Hadley’s expression sours.

“Unless you would like to explain to the owners of Drake Industries, my parents, why you haven’t been giving proper progress reports to your on-site supervisor?”

The frown on Hadley’s face is almost comical. Tim was going to savour this moment forever.

“Very well,” Hadley says slowly, tone clipped. “Adams and Thorn, continue monitoring the water intake for leaks. I will be back shortly.”

Tim tries not to look too smug as he’s led into the trailer, though from the look Chrys gives him when he enters behind Doctor Hadley, he doesn’t succeed too well.

“Vital signs have been steady all through our trip today with no major issues. It refused to eat this morning, if this behaviour continues we’ll have to sedate it to put in an IV. Water cycling is almost complete and all tanks are functioning as intended.”

Tim peers around Hadley towards the containment tank. The lights are on inside so he can see that the water is only reaching up about two thirds of the tank as it refills, Jason still sitting on the floor of the tank, his head turned away.

“What about the flaking on his tail?” Tim walks up to the tank, making a show of putting a hand up against the glass to lean down and take a closer look. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hadley twitch.

Up close Tim can see an abundance of scars across his torso, arms and even on his tail. There’s even a sizable patch that looks like it might have been a bite of some kind. Small strips of skin and scale float upwards in the water, reminding Tim of the video he saw once in his biology class of a shedding snake.

“Normal stress response,” Hadley says. “Transport is hard on any animal. As long as the rest of its vitals stay steady, it will be fine.”

Tim hums, still looking into the clear water. Jason turns his head, muscles tensing when he spots Tim so close to the glass. Tim tries to smile, taking a step back from the tank in an effort to show he’s not like Danger and gets a confused looking frown for his trouble.

“Alright, are we done, then?” Hadley’s patience truly knew no bounds. “I have data to review.”

“If that’s all you have to report for today,” Tim says, less of a question and more of an accusation. There was no doubt in his mind Hadley had his own experiments he was doing outside of what he was hired for. Had Tim actually been invested in seeing this project through he might be upset about it, but as it was, it was probably distracting Hadley enough that they had a shot at getting Jason out.

“I’m going to stay here with Chrys for a while. I want to familiarize myself with what you’re doing so I can better supervise.”

Hadley’s eye honest to god twitches while Chrys starts coughing suspiciously over by the computer.

“Very well. I will ensure the interns put away the equipment properly and see you both in the morning.”

Tim waves at Hadley’s retreating back, a pleasant smile plastered on his face. The door to the trailer shuts with an audible bang where Chrys apparently loses her composure and she wheezes through her laughter, gasping for air.

“That was magnificent.”

“Thanks! I’ve got a lot of experience with guys who think they’re better than everyone else.” Tim grins, finally feeling relaxed for the first time all day. He drops himself onto one of the rolley stools beside Chrys, unlocking the wheels so he can scooch over to where she is. “What are you doing anyway?”

Chrys rolls her eyes. “Sweet fuck all, if I’m being honest. Hadley’s so obsessed that I’m only really allowed to record different data points and report them to him. Right now, I’m monitoring vital signs and water quality, that’s it.”

“Huh. So, we both agree he’s definitely running his own experiments in his room or whatever, right?”

Chrys snorts, “if he wasn’t then I probably would never have gotten the chance to get to know Jay. I think he thinks I’m too stupid to do anything but what I’m told.”

Just as Tim thought. As long as it worked in their favour he could hardly bring himself to care.

“So, I was thinking,” Tim starts only to get interrupted by Chrys.

“Nuh-uh. I haven’t eaten all day, and neither has Jason. You are going to that twenty four hour diner across the street and getting us some food before we talk subterfuge.”

“What?” Tim asks in the face of Chrys’ smug expression. “Serious?”

“Yes, serious. I’ll have a bacon cheddar hamburger with fries.”

Tim sighs and accepts his fate as delivery boy.

The sky is awash in shades of orange and purple when Tim returns from the diner, balancing two overloaded paper bags in his arms. One of the guards gives him an odd look until Tim produces two containers of fries for each of them, hoping the bribe would keep them from mentioning it to Danger or Hadley.

“Ugh, finally,” Chrys exclaims, deflating in her chair to slump against the side of the tank. Above that, Jason has his arms folded over the edge of the now open tank, head tilted in Tim’s direction, water dripping onto a hoodie Chrys must have put down earlier. Jason lifts one hand and waves.

“Uuuh, hi?” Tim says warily as he starts extracting the rest of the food from the bags. Chrys makes grabbing motions as Tim hands her her burger, immediately unwrapping it to sink her teeth into. “I got chicken strips and fries?”

“What, no fish and chips?” Chrys says around a mouthful.

“I wasn’t sure if that was insensitive?” Even as he says it, Tim knows it’s ridiculous and judging from the loud cackle that comes from Chrys and a snort from Jason they both think it is too.

Tim offers the styrofoam container towards Jason, hoping that the chicken strips were at least preferable to whatever he’d rejected earlier, who reaches out and snags Tim’s wrist.

The world goes a little fuzzy for a moment; Tim suddenly feels too big for his skin, feelings he doesn’t recognize sinking beneath the surface and overlapping with his own like waves in a pool.

Thanks for the food, is what Tim picks up eventually from the torrent of emotions suddenly flooding his mind. He blinks down at Jason’s hand, clawed fingers easily encircling his wrist, then lifts his eyes up to meet Jason’s. There’s a swell of mischief, like laughter that swirls around in Tim’s chest as Jason smirks at him.

“You’re welcome?” Tim says vaguely, still reeling from the onslaught of foreign emotions.

“First time’s always a doozy,” Chrys says, singsong from her seat.

Jason lets go of Tim’s wrist with a shrug, still smiling and the world snaps back like a rubberband. Despite the strange intrusion Tim feels strangely bereft, alone in his head again. And then his brain catches up with the last two minutes.

“What the fuck was that?”

Jason shrugs again, eagerly tearing into his offered chicken strips, while Chrys’ grin takes on a distinctly mad scientist-esque vibe.

“Touch telepathy! Isn’t it just incredible? Hadley requires everyone to wear gloves when handling Jason because the first time he tried Jason gave him a nasty headache. Imagine if you had the power to give people instant migraines.”

Tim drops into one of the other chairs. He really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, merpeople are real and communicate via touch telepathy. It seems the plethora of books his parents kept, old tomes full of myths and legend, could not quite prepare Tim for the reality. It was one thing to be a kid, fueled by an overactive imagination and a lack of parental guidance, believing he could capture photographs of things that went bump in the night because he read it in a musty old book once.

It was another matter entirely to have reality slapping you in the face.

Chrys takes Tim’s stunned silence as an opportunity to gush over what she’s learned so far. Her enthusiasm for the topic seems boundless, explaining with gusto about how Jason’s species mainly communicates via telepathy and how being able to share what you feel and mean directly to another person was a far superior method of communication than verbal. Humans, apparently, weren't properly equipped for telepathic communication unless Jason had skin to skin contact.

Jason pokes around at the remnants of his fries while she talks, the black scales on his face beginning to stand out even more as he steadily begins to turn red. Telepathy or no, apparently merpeople still blushed when embarrassed.

“Are we allowed to talk subterfuge now?” Tim asks when Chrys finally comes back up for air. It’s not that Tim isn’t fascinated by the particulars of the existence of telepathy in underwater dwelling lifeforms, but they’re on a time crunch and who knew if Danger would decide he needed to check in before passing out in a drunken stupor after the bar.

Chrys rolls her eyes while Jason perks up slightly.

“Yes, I suppose. What’ve you got, wonder boy?”

“Wonder boy…?” Tim repeats.

“You remind me of a character in this comic series but I thought you wanted to talk about the plan? If you’d prefer I went over the plot of Eagle Owl and Wonder Boy I would be happy to oblige–”

Oh, Tim vaguely remembers that TV show. Reruns would air sometimes late at night, Tim falling asleep on the couch to the sound of quippy one liners and over exaggerated sound effects.

“Nope,” he says, popping the P for effect, “I’m good. What I was going to say is, we don’t have time to sit around and wait.”

Tim scooches his chair closer to the tank so that his knees are brushing Chrys’ and his shoulder is pressed against the side of the tank, easy access if Jason needs to say anything.

“Danger is a total madman and Hadley isn’t much better I’m betting. We need to move.”

Chrys hums, grabbing a long cold fry and chewing on it contemplatively, “what were you thinking?”

Tim grins, swinging his backpack onto his knees and removing the folding map from its depths. He traces a finger along the highway Chrys marked out previously, landing on a long stretch of highway they were going to be on the next day.

“I was thinking of blowing the tires out on the truck here.”

Chrys’ eyes go wide, looking at Tim like he’d grown a second head. Jason taps the glass near Tim’s shoulder, looking at him expectantly until Tim gets the idea and holds up his hand so Jason can hold his wrist again. Chrys lifts hers as well, holding on to Jason’s other hand.

Thoughts overlap with Tim’s once again though now that he’s prepared for it it feels much less intrusive. There’s curiosity and confusion that Tim puts together as:

What does that mean?

“Oh! So, the tires are inflated with pressurized air and, in theory, if I can get through the outside with” –Tim rummages around in his backpack one handed, clumsily unearthing the paper bag filled with nails–”one of these it should compromise the rubber enough that the pressure will blow trying to escape. On a truck this big, getting a replacement quickly would probably be problematic.”

In his mind’s eye a scene unfolds of what looks like an underwater cave. A torrent of bubbles and debris erupts from the entrance with an accompanying boom. Inquiry permeates the vision like a giant question mark. Beneath that, though, there's a frisson of fear Tim can just barely detect beneath the surface.

“Yeah, kinda like an explosion,” Chrys confirms, seemingly unaffected by the undercurrent of fear Tim is picking up on. She drums her fingers against her thigh as she thinks, eyes staring at a spot over Tim’s left shoulder as she thinks. “That could work, I suppose. The tank at least is reinforced enough that an accident shouldn’t hurt you too much. Can’t say the same for the people but…”

“We could also try sabotaging the cycling tank?”

Chrys’ face scrunches up. “Hadley would throw an absolute fit, so yes, but being able to do it in a way that looks accidental? A lot more risky. Plus, if something did go wrong with the tank set up I don’t think Hadley would leave.”

There’s a burst of distaste from Jason, accompanied by an image of Hadley looking down at him from outside the tank.

“Tires it is, you think you can get away with it?” Chrys asks while slumping down in her seat. Suddenly, she looks utterly exhausted, hand slipping from Jason’s grasp to fall into her lap.

“Running over a few nails could happen anywhere, so, yeah. It’s more… I’ve never tried blowing out tires before? It should work, I just… don’t know how long it will take.”

Chrys blows a raspberry, dragging a hand down her face. “Okay, that’s- okay. And after?”

That’s a little more tricky. Blowing out the tires would buy them time to make some sort of escape but the logistics were a lot more complicated.

“Well,” Tim says while rubbing the back of his neck, “uh, I didn’t really get that far.”

“Right,” Chrys snorts. “I imagine Danger will send some of his men to the nearest town for help so that’ll at least get rid of a pair of guards, at least.”

“At the very least we buy some more time before we get to Gotham.”

Jason squeezes Tim’s wrist once, an image of the Gotham City skyline from afar appearing in his mind. Tim easily is able to pick out the shape of the dock district, the towers sinking further into the distance. As he concentrates there’s the phantom sensation of water lapping around his shoulders.

“You know Gotham?” Tim asks in a rush, coming back to the present. Chrys sits up straighter, reaching a hand out to touch Jason’s arm.

Jason grins, nodding an affirmation. There’s more images and scenes that rush up around him: diving back into the sea, swimming in the darkness until a light glimmers along the seafloor. A cave, the entrance encased in what looks to be some kind of glowing plant, swimming through various passages all marked with the same glowing plants until -

Tim lets the real world fall away, entranced by the memory Jason shares with them. He almost feels like they’ve passed through some kind of portal to another world, the water clear and brightly lit here by glowing plants and rocks. Structures carved out of stone, an entire city sitting in an underwater cavern just miles away from Gotham City.

“Oh my god,” Tim breathes, still a little lost in the memory, “this is perfect.”

“What is?”

“There’s one place in the world my parents would never think I’d willingly go. We get Jason out of here, hijack one of the SUVs and keep going to Gotham.”

“You really are insane,” Chrys says, waving her other hand in front of her. “We still have to get Jason out of the truck.”

Tim eyes Jason’s muscular arms.

“You think you could drag yourself out?”

Jason shrugs, an air of indifference flowing to Tim. Shouldn’t be too hard.

“And who’s going to stop us when I’ve got these?” He pulls one of the bottles of sleeping pills from his bag, Extra Strength emblazoned across the label.

Chrys’ dissolves into laughter, choking out, “absolutely insane,” between ragged breaths.

Jason’s brows knit together, looking towards Tim filled with confusion.

They talk a little longer, topic drifting from Tim’s explanation on how melatonin works back to The Adventures of Eagle Owl and Wonder Boy, which Chrys has apparently read every issue of along with watching the TV show from the 60s. Tim can feel the way Jason is enraptured by the story, listening raptly and broadcasting any questions he has for Tim to answer.

It gets easier as time goes by to accurately separate Jason’s thoughts from his own, to parse them out into questions and statements that make sense out loud.

The sun is long set by the time Tim and Chrys emerge from the back of the truck. At the last second before opening the doors Chrys reaches out, roughly ruffling Tim’s hair and then doing the same to her own.

“Better they think we were having sex, right?”

Right. Their cover.

Predictably, the two guards steadfastly avoid eye contact as they exit, Chrys striking up a brief conversation to distract them both while Tim rounds to the front of the truck. A cursory glance towards the motel shows all the windows as dark except for one, where Hadley was currently working away no doubt. Reasonably satisfied that no one was watching, Tim carefully places two nails against the tread of the front wheel, angling them so that when the truck moved backwards it would get impaled by the long nails.

In the end, Tim’s plan goes completely off the rails.

Danger’s in a foul mood from the hangover and, presumably not having picked up any women at the bar the night before. Moody Danger apparently means a quiet Danger, which Tim would normally prefer over the constant chattering if it weren’t for the way it felt like the air could snap at any moment.

Rain beats heavily against the windshield, competing with the deafening blast of the radio, Danger pounding a harsh rhythm against the steering wheel. The storm had descended on them suddenly just after they had exited the last city, showing no signs of slowing down over the course of the last few hours.

Tim is in the middle of his book, trying to concentrate when Danger is practically radiating his displeasure to the world at large, when a thunderous crack splits the air, light blinding Tim for a second.

Ahead of them the truck swerves wide, tires squealing in the rain. Danger swears, slamming on the breaks and turning sharply to try and avoid slamming into the side of the trailer.

The truck continues to swing, only beginning to stop when it hits the swathe of dirt that separates the lanes, the trailer beginning to tip dangerously to the side. Tim is helpless to watch, hands braced against the door and middle console as the SUV isn’t able to stop in time and the airbags deploy.

Someone’s tugging at his arm, sounds filter in slowly: the rain, various alarms blaring, someone talking a mile a minute.

Tim blinks, sitting up. Through the spiderwebbed windshield he can see the underside of the trailer, to his left Danger is slumped into the airbags. For a moment Tim actually worries the man is dead but doesn’t have time to dwell as whoever is pulling his arm yanks him sideways to the right.

“Come on, get up! You fucking maniac, come on!”

Chrys. Chrys is the one talking to him, right. Things begin to flood back to Tim, then, the lightning, the crash. He looks up at chrys, there’s blood smearing across her face in the rain from a cut on her forehead.

“Jason?” Tim asks, his brain struggling to keep up.

“Jason’s okay, the tank took most of the impact but we have to move now!”

Tim fumbles with his seatbelt and lets Chrys pull him out of the car. Above them the sky cracks with not so distant thunder.

“You almost killed me, asshole,” Chrys shouts over the pounding rain, her voice unsteady.

“Didn’t expect the storm,” Tim replies, equally unsteady. He surveys the damage, the SUV that was behind him and Danger crashed into their bumper, the two guards there also presumably out for the count. The right door to the trailer lies on the pavement, Jason sitting just inside of the hinges looking apprehensive.

“How?” Tim asks as Chrys lets go of his arm in favour of stomping ahead towards the last remaining SUV, doors open, parked with the hazards on and facing the trailer. The last set of guards must have turned around to try and help.

“I knocked out Hadley and stuck the guards when they came in with two syringes of tranquilizer. I think” –she swallows thickly–”I think Adams is dead.”

Tim glances behind Jason, bodies and equipment strewn about inside. He tries not to dwell on the amount of blood pooling against the wall.

“C’mon, let’s get him in the car. I already put some supplies in the back but I don’t know how much time we have.”

Jason protests being carried and as it turns out his tail is way too heavy for them to lift anyway. Instead Jason drags himself the short distance over to the car with Tim helping him into the passenger seat while Chrys keeps an eye on the bodies in the truck.

“Let’s go, Chrys!” Tim yells, one foot in the SUV, looking up to see-

Chrys struggles against Danger, scrabbling at the arm locked around her neck. She makes eye contact, her expression wild as she stops struggling momentarily to scream, "just go!"

Danger levels a gun up at Tim with his other arm.

Tim really doesn’t need to be told twice.

A gunshot rings out, Tim barely catching movement as he scrambles to finish getting in the car as Chrys plants her feet and shoves, causing Danger's shot to go wide.

Tim puts the car in reverse and drives.

[next chapter]

#jaytimweek #jaytimweek2022 #jaytim #timjay #astrix writes #all roads to the sea #now we're getting somewhere 😎

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 4 years

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new love - spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer tells the team about his new girlfriend, y/n.

warnings: fluff in its purest form.

word count: 1503

notes: IM BACK!!! i know it’s been a little while since i posted anything but i actually had the time (and motivation) to write this and i think it’s rlly cute!!

********************

spencer gazed down at you as you slept, adoration filling his eyes.

last night was the first night you had slept over at his place. he wasn’t really against the idea, other than the fact that you’d wake up alone in his bed. he wished he could stay and cuddle you longer, but unfortunately serial killers had a habit of killing innocent people. it was spencer’s duty to prevent that, and well - duty calls.

spencer couldn’t seem to spur his legs into action, the image of you still asleep and curled up under his covers was one too precious to walk away from. you were spread out on your stomach, your hair sprawled out across the pillow underneath your head, your hands softly grasping the comforter.

spencer found himself immensely grateful for his eidetic memory so that he could never forget how adorable you looked.

in lieu of fully rousing you to say goodbye, he decided on placing a kiss on your forehead. the whimper that the small action elicited from you made his heart clench - and made it that much tougher to leave you.

spencer quickly found some spare notepaper and scribbled a note for you encouraging to call or text if you felt lonely, his chicken scratch hardly legible in his haste.

——————————

as he sat on the train that morning, he couldn’t help but realize that everything just seemed so much better now that you were a permanent fixture in spencer’s life. it was as if his life were a coloring page that had suddenly been filled in with the most vibrant of markers - as cliche as that sounds.

the inconveniences that plagued him almost daily now seemed like nothing - for example, the embarrassing half-jog-half-sprint he had to do in order to make it onto the train in time. spencer felt like he had a new outlook on life, and it was all owed to you.

spencer arrived at work, walking into the bullpen with a noticeable pep in his step as he made his way over to his desk. he set down his satchel, only to glance up and find morgan and jj staring at him.

“do i have something on my face?” he frowned, wiping at his face to ensure there was nothing there.

“you didn’t head to the coffee machine straight away,” morgan pointed out, swiveling his chair to face him.

“i, uh, don’t feel like i need it?” spencer’s brows knit in utter confusion at the sudden interrogation he found himself a part of.

“you always get a cup of coffee in the morning, spence, regardless of whether or not we’ve got a case.” jj chimed in.

“and?” he wasn’t quite sure what the point of all this was.

“do you mean to tell us the doctor actually got a decent amount of sleep last night?” derek scoffed.

“i suppose so. is that an issue?” spencer cocked his head, much like a puppy dog.

“no, it’s not an issue at all, it’s just unusual for you.” jj shared a look with morgan, who stood up from his chair to saunter over to the doctor’s desk.

“so who’s the lucky girl, pretty boy?” he grinned.

the heat instantaneously rose to spencer’s cheeks at his words. “wh-what? what girl? i have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“come on, spence, you don’t expect us to realize the way you walked into work with a grin on your face? that hardly ever happens before you’ve gotten any caffeine in you, which - if you’ll remember correctly - you didn’t even have this morning.” jj grinned at the blushing boy.

“come on, that’s no fair! you guys know we’re not supposed to profile each other!” he practically whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ooh, who’s profiling who?” penelope said as she scurried towards the trio. “woah - boy wonder you are glowing. what are you hiding from me?”

before he could stop him from answering, derek spoke. “we think pretty ricky’s got a girlfriend.”

a sudden expression of pure joy made its way onto the analyst’s face as a smile lit up her face. “please, please tell me he’s right!”

spencer weighed his options carefully. the two of you were relatively new, and he didn’t want to spoil anything by telling his friends about you so soon. but on the other hand, every time he’d brought them up, you’d mentioned how much you’d love to meet them all one day. so he figured, what would be the harm in telling them?

“yeah. i do have one. a girlfriend, that is.” he spoke awkwardly.

penelope practically squealed as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “i’m so happy for you! but spencer reid, how could you hide this from us? but i need to know absolutely every last detail!”

the way she flipped from excitedness to borderline anger left spencer feeling a little frazzled, but nonetheless happy to share. “her name is y/n, and she works in the bookstore downtown. that’s actually where we met.”

“y/n reid really has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” penelope exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

derek noticed how flustered spencer was becoming with all the sudden attention on both him and his love life and opted to pull her back slightly. “alright, let’s reign it in, babygirl. he only just mentioned her, i’m sure they’re not getting hitched any time soon.”

he sent derek a thankful look before continuing. “we’ve only been dating for a month now, i don’t think either of us are ready for that yet,” he laughed nervously.

“what’s she like?” jj asked, perching on the edge of his desk.

“i can’t even - i don’t even have the words to articulate how wonderful she is,” spencer sighed dreamily. “she’s just so kind and loving and funny and so, so beautiful.”

morgan and jj exchanged a knowing look, while penelope looked like a child who had finally gotten the pony she kept asking for.

“y/n’s one lucky girl,” she grinned a toothy grin. “speaking of y/n, when might the lucky lady like to meet us? please tell me she wants to meet us.”

“she actually really wants to meet you guys, she-“ spencer was cut off as garcia whisked him away to arrange a date with the whole team.

before she could get too far, morgan grabbed him by the arm. “seriously kid, i’m happy for you. she seems like she makes you really happy.”

spencer could only offer a quick ‘thanks’ in response before garcia dragged him all the way to her cave to plan.

——————————

“you’re home!” spencer heard you shout as he stepped past the door. he braced for impact as you practically launched yourself into his arms. “how was your day, baby?”

he smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as you pulled away. “it was good, just a paperwork day, but i didn’t get much done - except for one thing.”

“and what was that?” you quirked a brow at his odd statement.

“i might’ve told the team about us,” he grew slightly panicked as he noticed the shocked expression on your face. “i-i hope that’s okay with you. i know i didn’t ask, but i-“

you took his hands in yours, gently thumbing over his knuckles. “it’s fine by me, i just wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it, spence.”

his heart skipped a beat at your thoughtfulness, pressing a kiss to your hands. “i don’t know, i guess in that moment, any doubt in my mind went away. n-not that there was any to begin with!”

you stepped up to place a chaste kiss to his lips, silencing his clarifications. “it’s okay, i think it’s sweet. so, what’d they say?”

“they were really happy for me, and i think garcia nearly burst a blood vessel when i told her.” the two of you giggled. “they kept saying how lucky you were, but i couldn’t help but think that i’m the lucky one.”

“oh they’re absolutely right there. i am the lucky one. how else could i have ended up with such a catch like you?” you smirked at the growing blush on your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“after i told them about you, garcia dragged me away to go plan a date for you to meet them, a-and i told her this friday would be fine, so i hope that’s okay with you.” spencer admitted, looking down at you hopefully.

“spence? are you kidding?” you beamed, clasping your hands together in excitement. “i can hardly wait!” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for your lips to meet.

his hand came up to cup your cheek, thumbing softly over your cheekbone as he smiled into the kiss. when you finally pulled away, you motioned for him to follow you into the kitchen for dinner.

as you practically skipped away, all spencer could think about was how incredibly thrilled he was to have met you. he wondered if maybe his teammates were right: you were both the lucky ones.

********************

i LOVE how this turn out and i put a lot of thought into this and actually had some friends read over it before i posted it so i hope u guys love it too 😊

as usual i’m tagging ppl on my taglist & ppl who i think might be interested :)

tags: @sojournmichael @stinkyelf @crazyfore3 @cal-ifornication @eggygorl02 @howdycharlie @eosprincess @mortallythoughtfulgurl @illuxions-x @unlikelyempathpruneauthor @blankets-for-bees @holycandypizza @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @lovelyrdjr @elitereid @minnie-bby @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @fantastic-fans @keomoon @elric8097 @jjtheangel @spacedikut @whoreforthebau @angelbunnyoxo @theonewithcriminalminds @andiebeaword @big-galaxy-chaos @beatleszeppelin @averyhotchner @dreatine @you-sunshine

#i sound like a broken record but i really like this a lot #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds x reader #cm x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler character #mgg #mgg character #my writing

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: Rare Company

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation from previous chapter. Several days after your initial meeting, Loki returns allowing some unexpected time together. And spurring you to wonder what could become of this, as well as trying to address what your own feelings might be for this new god.

Warnings: None, just fluff this chapter.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys

My Masterlist

——————————

Things had fallen back into routine after a while. Even if you still caught yourself daydreaming from time to time. You had imagined working up the nerve to ask your father for permission to visit Asgard. No one from your family had in ages from all you could tell, and what an act of diplomacy that could be.

Instead of roaming far and wide as you normally would, you had more kept to these southern seas as well. That little voice inside you wondering if Loki would return. The forest nymphs had delivered word to your sea nymphs that he had departed back through what you now knew as the bifrost the very same day you had met him.

He’d only lingered a couple more hours they’d said, seemingly in thought within the forest before he’d called out for the bridge to reopen and had disappeared the same strange way he’d come.

You had taken the form of a dolphin today, idly swimming around the fishing boats you’d come upon in open water. They should know you symbolized luck. And if they seemed grateful, you’d gladly chase more fish into their nets in your boredom.

But it was then that another group of dolphins appeared, though you recognized them instantly for the nymphs that they were.

Excitedly they darted around you.

“He’s back, that prince of Asgard! And he calls for you, milady!”

The shock had been immense. You really hadn’t known if he would return. But you’d hoped, hadn’t you? And now he was actually asking for you by name.

Of course you must go to him. You were a goddess of your word after all.

———————————

And he was at the same beach you’d been on the first day he’d appeared. Through father’s magic, you could travel the hidden currents of the deep ocean, being wherever you needed to be within minutes rather than hours or the days that it would have taken mortals.

You swam slower though as you neared the shore, still underwater as you’d taken your spear from one of the nymphs once more. He was still a stranger to you after all. Though maybe that would change? It was hard to say why he really would have returned again.

There was a nervousness that was so foreign to you as you finally swam shallow enough to stand up and begin to walk from the waters. The gills on your neck that only opened when you were under for any real length of time, now dissolved back into smooth skin as the dry air reached you.

Your dress clung to your wet body as well, far more sheer in the sunlight, and for a moment you wondered if Asgardian culture was more modest in the view of their own bodies or not. You couldn’t remember reading about that.

Hopefully he would not think it obscene. But as you made eye contact with him, you really could read nothing in his gaze. Only his body language looked impatient as he sat in the weak shade of a tree long gnarled by the ocean’s winds.

You bowed lightly in greeting as you stopped before him, even though you still held your spear upright in one hand. “Prince Loki of Asgard, I am pleased to see you again.”

You did notice that fleeting look through his eyes at that, as if he was once again trying to decide your sincerity.

“You think me a fool, don’t you?” Was what he finally said though. Not quite as cutting in tone as the other day however, but still very guarded.

You straightened at the accusation, though curious to his point.

But he continued before you could respond. “You are no minor goddess, (Y/N) of the sea,” He repeated, seeming to mock your wording from your last meeting. “I read more on your kind once I returned to Asgard. Care to introduce yourself with less deception this time?”

You smiled before you could help yourself. So you were the deceptive one? When the very first time you’d ever laid eyes on him, it had only been a false image. What a strange choice of words.

But had he really done the same thing you had then? Gone home and studied you? Was he annoyed that there would be any subject he knew so little about? You wanted to know if your own studying had been enough though, as this time you answered him in the language of the Asgardians, or what you hoped was at least close enough to be intelligible.

“I did not lie to you. I am the daughter of the sea. Because my father is the sea...Poseidon, king of the sea, and god of the oceans, earthquakes, storms, and horses.” Which yes, made you a princess you supposed, niece of Zeus, and sibling and cousin to so many others in the pantheon of gods and goddesses that was the Olympus royal family.

His eyebrows raised a little as his own language came off your tongue. But you could see it would still take far more for him to really show himself impressed even as a slight smirk did cross his face for the very first time. “Your intonation still needs much work, goddess. We can keep to Greek for now.”

True, beginning to learn a new language just through the written word was far different than actually hearing it spoken. “I haven’t had much time to study since you first came.” You smiled back. “I did try.”

“Clearly.” He answered, though still seeming to be just the slightest amused you thought.

“So is that the only reason you have returned? To chide me for not announcing myself a king’s daughter?” You asked, but trying not to sound as curious as you truly were.

He did pause a moment, but you were realizing that seldom did he find himself without quick words. “Partly I suppose.” He responded. “But you also said that I was now a guest here. Unless that hospitality has been revoked, I am choosing to take more time from Asgard in a place where I will not be bothered.”

So he still was mostly wanting solitude after all then? Though slightly disappointing, you knew it was something you could well understand. You wondered if his family could be as chaotic as your own. “This is a good place for it then. To not be bothered I mean. And yes, I stand by my offer of your being a guest here.”

After waiting this many days you really would have preferred to be in his presence more than a few moments. But it would be rude to impose yourself as well. “I will leave you to yourself then.” You spoke, already resigning your own self to likely the rest of the day alone as a shark or a dolphin. Well, maybe something that could dive even deeper. You now felt like going lay in a trench somewhere actually.

“Wait.”

The call back surprised you, even as it had sounded more like a command, pausing your rising disappointment as you glanced back over your shoulder.

“I had actually intended just to read today. But as you evidently have been reading at times as well, unlike so many others I know-” There seemed to be quite a bit of resentment to whomever he was referring to there, “I could be inclined to return to Asgard briefly and fetch some books from our library for you as well if you would like to read with me.”

You stared at the abrupt invitation. Did he really mean for you to sit with him, reading together then? So he was not entirely averse to your presence any longer?

Your silent stare only had him keep talking as if he thought he might need to further persuade you though. “I am sure you would get a far more accurate representation of Asgardian culture and history from our own authors, rather than whatever it was you had clumsily dug up here.”

The air of superiority had returned to his tone as he’d mentioned their writers of course, but he was likely right. If you wanted to read about Asgard, what better source than from the Asgardians themselves?

“I would appreciate that very much,” You said truthfully, albeit still with some surprise.

“Then it is done.” He said decisively, then standing to walk back to the forest.

“Loki,” you called before you could stop yourself though. You also realized it was the first time you had said his name this informally. You paused, unsure if this was something he generally allowed or not.

But when he looked back at you, you saw no anger in his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard himself, but only for the briefest moment.

“I...” You tried to not lose your nerve. “May I follow you? Not to Asgard of course,” You clarified quickly. There were far too many protocols that could be broken there, “But close enough to see the bifrost open? I’ve never seen it.”

He hesitated to consider your request. You supposed any good steward of their kingdom would. But even if you were trying some attempt at subterfuge and intended to force your way to Asgard, what threat could a single Olympian really pose? Especially only a water goddess at that.

He must have agreed you were no real threat either as he finally nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

And once you had reached that clearing again, this time you were close enough to see the symbols his last entrances had cut into the ground. Such a unique way to travel you thought.

But you were smart enough to still keep your distance as you did back back away as you saw him look to the sky.

“Heimdall!” He called. “Open the bifrost, I need to return!” He said in his own language.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the birds began to fly as the trees shook in the growing wind. You could just see the sky, a swirl of clouds beginning before a light as bright as any of Zeus’ lightning bolts erupted down with that boom you had heard before. Loki disappeared into the light, the wind whipping all around you before the bifrost vanished back into those clouds just as suddenly and there was silence again.

“Amazing,” you breathed, just to yourself and any still lingering animals that may have heard you.

—————————-

It felt like far longer than it really was you were sure. Your anticipation just stretching out the minutes as you’d waited for his return.

But when he did come back, in all the same dramatics as his exit with the bifrost opening, then closing to leave him there again in the clearing, he now had a satchel of several books.

You assumed Asgard may be a good deal cooler in temperature than your sandy beaches for as much of him that was covered in clothing. So you tried to help find the best shade that you could, and with an unblocked pass for the cool ocean breeze as you sat together beneath more trees.

“I’ve put a spell on these to make them waterproof,” He commented, “Though do still take care, some of these are from Father’s personal collection.”

“That’s practical,” You admitted, not at all offended, but awed really that he would bring such rare items for your viewing.

It was a bit of a slow go for you though, everything being written in the Asgardian language. But you were happy to find that you could understand enough with some effort, and that the gist of the stories and the histories being told were still coming across to you.

You weren’t sure how many hours the two of you sat that way. Every now and again you could see one of the sea nymphs peeking out from where the waves were breaking, keeping a curious eye on the two of you.

Eventually it was him that finally closed the last book he had been working through though. “I suppose I should return.” He said.

You were gentle with the book you still had, closing it as well as you handed it back to him. You felt as if you should say something more, but a simple, “Thank you,” was all that really came to mind in this moment.

He quieted though, looking out to the sun, now low over the darkening ocean. “It is not as fully terrible here in Midgard as I first assumed.”

You chuckled, how often would he make a habit of these insults? “I suppose any place can have its good qualities.”

But you badly wanted to ask him what had brought him here in the first place then. If he was to come to the mortal realm, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay to the north where he was already legend? Why come here to the lands of the Olympians?

“You do have a way of staring through a person when you’re curious about something. You realize this don’t you?” He asked you in return though, just observing your features then.

You blinked, genuinely wondering if he possessed telepathy and you hadn’t known it.

“You’re looking at me in the same way as when you wanted to see the bifrost. So what do you wish to know of Asgard that could not be found in those books?”

You hesitated. He was still a god after all, and you knew how fickle they could be. You didn’t wish to anger him with your nosiness, but it would also be rude to ignore such a direct question.

“Well...I’m wondering why you came to our land to begin with. No Asgardians have set foot here in many ages from what I can discern. Why would you be so different?”

“You think me different?” He responded immediately though. Concerning you actually, before he scoffed, “Then you are intelligent. I am nothing like those I came here to seek relief from. My fool brother and his equally boorish companions.”

“Thor?” You asked innocently enough.

But the look he gave you as that name came off your lips would have been far answer enough before it became the key that opened the gates.

“He has been completely insufferable since Father bequeathed him Mjolnir!” You could see Loki’s jaw tightening slightly, the frustrated expression growing and so similar to that angered one you remembered on his illusion’s face that first day in the clearing, when it’d been pacing and cursing.

“Is that what happened recently?” You asked reflexively, but still believing that you already had the answer.

“Oh, he’s been using the hammer for years of course. Yet it always belonged to Asgard, not him. A relic of our realm. But now it is truly his per Father’s public declaration. Thor’s hammer,” He mocked, “Worthy to the one who will one day succeed Odin to take the throne. Father has now cast Thor as his official heir in our people’s eyes with this blunder.”

You remained quiet to digest the information he was providing you. So Loki felt slighted, no disgusted actually to learn the throne was seemingly all but promised to his brother now. So had he really already had that high of expectations for it?

“I guess Asgard and Olympus aren’t so different after all,” You finally mused, though trying to keep your tone even rather than sounding patronizing. “I mean, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Our three kings, they overthrew their father Cronus and locked him in Tartarus to claim rule. Admittedly Cronus had eaten Hades, Poseidon, and their other siblings previously though.”

Loki stared at you and you just smiled oddly then. “My family has not always been on the best terms with each other either.”

“Your grandfather ate your father?” Loki asked as if to reaffirm the insanity he’d just heard. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“No, father has the scars still,” You admitted. “Cronus devoured his children as he didn’t want anyone to succeed him. But my grandmother Rhea, she hid Zeus away when he was born. And Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate the others later.”

“Ugh,” Loki said, making a face.

You laughed, glad you seemed to at least get his mind off of Thor for the moment. “That all happened ages before I was born though. Luckily it’s now more frowned upon to treat your children in such a manner. Those were the old ways.”

“And you do have many siblings don’t you?” He questioned. “I read the Olympians were quite, how should I say, prolific in their child bearing.”

“Truth I’m afraid. Which is why I like to keep to the seas rather than Father’s palace or Mount Olympus. At least you only have one Thor, rather than a dozen.”

“Gods,” Loki spoke, the evident horror in that thought too much to contemplate seriously.

But you were just smiling again, realizing how much the ice had finally been broken to even be having this type of conversation right now. You were honestly enjoying the back and forth. It would be a shame to not do this again sometime.

And you had to try and convey that, at least somewhat if you could. You didn’t know how many other chances you would have. “Before you go...I did mean it, Loki, when I said you were welcome as a guest here. You can always come back when you need a little hideaway from whatever transpires to irk you in Asgard.”

He stared at you again then. It troubled you though of how little you seemed to be able read him at times. As if he could just cast a curtain between you whenever he wished.

“Perhaps I just may.” Loki said at last though with little emotion, then finally standing now and collecting his satchel of books.

It was only then that you really realized how dark it had already gotten with the sun now setting. And you caught yourself admiring him a little in the red and purple hues now coming from the sky. He really was so different than the gods you’d known before. Should you say something more?

As you stood as well, picking your spear back up from the sands, you saw several nymphs quickly sink back down into the surf, pretending as if they were not also very interested in how else you may say goodbye to him.

“You must not often entertain guests,” Loki spoke though, evidently having noticed your audience as well even as he began to walk away from you.

“Not men,” You answered honestly, though pausing as you realized how that really sounded. You continued though, not sure if you were making things sound worse or better. “Mostly we stay at sea. And I have no interest in unwashed sailors.”

But he stopped at that before entering the forest. He posed such a simple question to you then, although one that could mean so much more. “Yet you have interest in me?”

You felt as if you’d been hit in the chest at his words. Said quietly even as you saw his blue eyes on you once more, analyzing...waiting.

But how could one word have so many meanings? Interest as in he was just a curiosity, a strange foreigner to study like some new sea creature you had found? Or interest like a friend, to read together and talk and vent on the very particular family aspects you shared just as you’d done today?

Or...and this was surely the most disconcerting of all, interest as in how he could feel if you were allowed to touch him? How he would taste if you could kiss him? Your kind took lovers frequently. That should be no secret to him or anyone else. But just because other gods and goddesses of Olympus bedded one another left and right, it didn’t mean you did.

But did he you wondered? Did he have his choice of consorts at his palace, a full court always vying for his attentions to try and pull themselves further up the social ladder via way of his bed? Surely he would, wouldn’t he?

Yet your hesitation in answering was enough to indict you of your own desires you feared. Surely if he meant little, that would have been an easy response. To think on it this long, just made your confession for you didn’t it?

You took a breath, trying to remind yourself that you should fear no man. On a whim you could transform into a great shark and consume any prey, you could move the waters themselves, wreck ships, destroy harbors should you truly wish to. These were the gifts given to you from your father.

You were a goddess after all, not just an enamored young woman. And all you could do was speak the truth. “I do have interest in you, Loki.” You finally answered. “But to what path that will take is highly dependent on your own desires I’m sure. I know nothing of Asgardian preferences when it comes to choosing who to court, if at all.”

He had only been looking at you before, but now turned to fully face you. Unlike yourself, it seemed he had no problem in finding words though. “Your beauty is not something rare in Asgard, that is true.” He said, yet continuing before you could feel that as too harsh a barb, “But your mind, your ability, and even your desire to learn of what is outside your own world, that may be something wholly more compelling.”

Yet this didn’t sound like something that should be considered rare to you, or enough to set you apart at all you thought. And he seemed to read this disbelief clearly on your face as he then admonished you for it.

“You think I exaggerate? That even one of those vapid headed children could sit still for more than an hour without having to go break something or fight someone to prove their worth? Or that any other would sit here with me as you have done today and it not be just farce to try and get closer to my brother or to get in Odin’s favor?”

So you had been right on one thing at least. The Asgardian court did have its share of social climbers then. Maybe in this you could finally see some weight to his words. Because what did you care of such things? Your father was already a king. You did not need to seduce a prince to find anything in your life that you could not have by birthright already.

But if this was his way of admitting he at least approved of your company, it still didn’t clarify as to what all he really wanted from you.

“Well, I still leave the decision as yours. You know how to find me should you be willing to see me again. If you bring books, I will read with you. If you only want an ear to listen, I will do so. And if you desire for more...we can address that as we come to it.” You said, in what you hoped was a mature sounding way to deal with these burgeoning feelings.

“Very well.” He answered too simply though. And you were sure you saw some enjoyment in his eyes as your expression showed you were left a bit unsatisfied by that. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And it was night by then, the fresh stars now fully surpassing the light from the fading sun. You stayed on the beach this time though, watching him disappear into the wooded hillside.

In not too much time, you then heard the boom that signaled the bifrost’s open and close and you knew that he was gone.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki imagine

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thephysicsgraduate · 3 years

Note

First of all I admire how far you have gotten! Congrats! Secondly, I want to ask how can I love learning physics again? I am a physics major, 3rd year, and for over the past years I have lost my passion for learning. I am still comparing myself with my classmates, and I know it is a wrong thing to do but still, it happens unconsciously. I don't know what to do, I am not motivated at all to do anything. I still have my dream of becoming an astrophysicist one day. However, it just seems impossible for me to accomplish. Subjects are starting to get complicated, and I just know that I don't know sh*t. I want to love knowledge again, any ideas, sources, tips, advice , inspiration? Sorry for my rambling. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you for your kind words! Unfortunately, I don't have a magnificent answer for this, but I'm grateful that you reached out to ask because I think it's a great point to emphasize. This is something I have been struggling with immensely, especially since starting graduate school. Finishing the last year of my undergraduate degree 90-100% online was rough, and I missed out on research opportunities. The comparison thing is a nasty habit to kick, and I do my best to not think about how other students might be doing (in a comparative way). Also, keep in mind that people bullshit when discussing how "hard" an assignment or test was. Also, we all have different definitions of what "easy" means.

Like you said, though, this comparison so often happens without our own intention. Be patient and gentle with yourself. Try to think about if you were tutoring someone in a class you knew loads about. You wouldn't put them down for not knowing how to do something or struggling with a particular concept. I think trying to reorient your internal dialogue around learning Physics to be more like this can help.

Again I heavily relate to feeling like you don't know anything, and I understand how mentally exhausting assignments and tests can feel. I try to follow the wise words of my favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, who said.

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

...so, whenever you find the urge to follow that wonderful sense of curiosity, do it! Notice and encourage those moments so you can look back on those moments when you have bad days.

In terms of resources, I recently stumbled upon Eleanora Svanberg's TikTok (elle.py) and Instagram (@ elle.pyc) accounts and she makes some beautiful content that I find really encouraging. She does an excellent job of being transparent about how she has not always loved studying physics/maths (and has times and classes which she currently struggles with). I really encourage you to check her content out!

Hopefully, my ramblings were a little helpful, and sorry, I don't have any profound or unconventional hacks for getting past this. Please know that you are not alone in this, and you are always welcome to reach out if you want to chat about it more.

Good luck!

#impostersyndrome #physicsblr #physblr

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grxywarxn · 4 years

Text

Revisiting Banana Fish, Almost Two Years Later.

*Spoiler warning for any new comers to the fandom.*

The Banana Fish fandom, to put it bluntly, is pretty much dead. I haven't been as active as I was when I first discovered the anime in October two years ago, but oddly enough, I think I still think about this series almost every day. I still think, even if only for a second, about Ash, about Eiji, about the impact their story, and all the other characters story, has had on me.

I'm really only posting this to ramble. To talk about the relationship between Eiji and Ash, and to of course, talk about the ending and Garden of Light. (Which was only in the manga for any anime onlys. I've also made a post on the ending when the last episode came out, but it was mainly manga focused and written horribly.)

I will begin first with the importance of the relationship:

Ash is a character who has been through a lot of shit. That much is clear from the first episode. (Papa Dino, trailing his hand down Ash's cheek with his possesive grip and condecending tone.)

Ash's story is difficult. Is it one of redemption? Yes, but no.

When Ash sees Eiji poll vault, when he sees Eiji fly through the air freely and gracefully, he too wants to do that. He wants to be able to let everything go and fly in the air, if only for a little bit. He is in awe of Eiji. In want of him.

*Gif credit: https://mobpsycho100.tumblr.com/post/175820001579?ref=weheartit*

Eiji is kind. And like Sing has stated, he finds a way to reach out to the lost people and leave some sort of imprint. Some sort of connection with them, albeit, unknowingly. But Ash is someone who needed someone like that to enter his life. Someone who could show him that there was an out, and if he wanted to take it, he could, somehow.

The beauty of seeing Eiji slowly help Ash out of the rut he's gotten himself in is something I was (and still am,) happy to have had the pleasure of seeing. It's Eiji Ash turns to whenever something happens. It's Eiji Ash immediatley thinks of when there’s trouble. And it's also Ash that Eiji is constantly thinking about. It's Ash Eiji wants everything to change for. He wishes constantly that things were different.

The relationship they have is this: equal. Sure, you could argue that it's not, considering the power Ash holds with the flick of his finger. But that power is never demonstrated on Eiji. The love and comfort they each have for each other is mirrored. I’ve never felt as if one loved each other less or more than the other.

One very important thing I want to talk about (this was a popular discussion among some fans when the anime was finishing it's course,) is that a loving relationship does not need to be sexual for it to be considered that; a relationship.

Sure, a common thing when people think of relationships is that. Kissing and sex. It's almost as though they need to be part of one for that relationship to be valid.

But you would have to be blind, or seriously stupid, to not be able to see the love Ash and Eiji have for each other. With their touches and the way they so clearly care for each other. It just confuses me so much how people could ever look at them and not think they were, in some aspect, romantically interested/with one another.

I just think it's really amazing to see something like that displayed so casually. There’s never any questioning among them. Never a moment when either expressed or wanted things to escalate and I think that’s so touching.

I will know discuss the ending, with a lot of aspects from my old post, but now with (hopefully) more concise thoughts.

The ending is this: heartbreaking.

Although I don't think I've seen a lot of this in the fandom, I know a common argument for why endings like Banana Fish shouldn't even be endings is that it shows there is no recovery from the life Ash has been through, and I disagree.

(This is not to say you can't have that conception.)

The ending is still confusing to me. No matter how many times I've tried to exam it. No matter how many times I've tried to argue with myself that, this is what it meant, I'm sure. I still can't come up with a clear answer that I enjoy.

There are so many questions: Why didn't Ash seek medical help? He would have known that those wounds weren't fatal. Why did he chose to let himself die? Was it because he couldn't bring himself to do this anymore? Was it because of an underlying guilt he felt for tying Eiji to himself?

One of the answers I often contemplate is this: Ash was tired. I think he really thought there wasn’t an easy, a foreseeable, out that would leave Eiji and him safe. That the offer Eiji gave him to come to Japan just wasn’t plausible. I think he really was just done.

I also think that when Ash read Eijis letter (that beautiful letter that still makes my chest tight,) he felt at peace. After reading, my soul is always with you (I’m literally having trouble typing this,) I think he knew that that was true. That wherever Ash went, Eiji would follow somehow. Eiji would somehow be tied to him.

I think in that moment, with it pretty much spelt out for him, Ash knew he was loved. And he thought that that love was enough. And that he could die, with the smile on his face, knowing this.

Lastly, although this will be very brief, I want to talk about Garden of Light. And how sad it really makes me that Eijin really did stick to those words: my soul is always with you.

Eiji has grown up, it has been nine years, his hair is longer, and still yet, he is back in New York and is still consumed by the thought of Ash.

It brings me immense amounts of pain to see Eiji still so stuck on Ash. Still not able to really accept what has happened. I even think him growing his hair out was a part of that.

Let’s compare it to Yut Lung, who grew his hair out in an attempt to stay close to his past. In an attempt to still be tied to his mother, the only person he was able (beside Blanca and Sing, who didn’t come until many years later,) to find solace in. But who left him.

Now with Eiji, the similarity here is this: Eiji was tied to Ash so strongly. They were incredibly important to each other (obviously,) Similar to how deeply Yut Lung and his mother were important to each other. (Although in different contexts.) But, I think he grew his hair out as an attempt to distance himself from Ash. To distance himself from that pain.

At the end of volume 19, Eiji finally played those photos from so long ago. He was finally able to find some way to accept what happened. Even if only a little bit. And this fills me with such intense emotion. To finally see Eiji cry because things can’t change. I’ll never come back from that.

I don’t think Banana Fish will ever be far from me. It’s been two years and I still think about it with such intense fondness and sadness. This was a series that greatly impacted me, and for that I am grateful.

#banana fish #bananafish #asheiji #ash lynx #eiji okumura #yut lung lee #lee yut lung #ash and eiji #eiji and ash #sing soo ling #studio mappa #garden of light #I think i'll go cry now #ash lynx x eiji okumura #I love them way too much #I really want that last photo as a tattoo #banana fish anime #banana fish manga

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venting-penguin · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on moving

So you’ll read this a bit after I typed this. Reason being that I am currently without internet for a few moments, at least for this evening. So I’ve decided to gather my thoughts and type them out so I can post them later. Now that I am doing so, I am also taking a bit of time to reflect on the fact that its probably the first evening in a few years that I am without internet. So I am really thinking “How are my online friends doing? Has any of them sent me a message? Did I tell them I am currently in the middle of the whole moving process? Should I have sent them a message I am offline for a bit?” I’m also thinking of ways I might be missing out on news and I have no way off taking my mind off other stuff by watching a youtube video or something similar. I am now looking through my phone for things I downloaded earlier to help me relax, such as audio books or music. It feels almost as if I am secluded from the world for a moment.

Anyways, I see I have already swayed a bit from the topic at hand, namely my moving. Today I spent about 12 hours packing stuff, going from one place to another, unpacking stuff and then going back to the first place to pack and load some more stuff. Somehow this became a pretty emotional experience. It might be the fact that I am trying out a kind of new life again. It might be that I am going through some old stuff which brings back a whole range of memories. But I think it’s something different.

I realized that I’ve been living in a city for about 6 years without achieving any kind of goal I set out to achieve. I didn’t make any friends, didn’t find a job and certainly didn’t finish my education there, which is basically the prime reason for moving here. I didn’t even really go sightseeing or walk around the place and take some pics of the surroundings or nearby nature. I always wanted to do that but just never got around to it.

I also looked at the place I’ll be vacating and realized what a mess I got to work with. Of course I have to clean up the place and take my remaining belongings with me and I saw such an unsettling combination of dirt on the walls, dust everywhere, spiderwebs on the ceiling, and a giant heap of useless garbage that I really thought to myself “What I am even doing even with my life”. Basically I was just playing video games for many thousands of hours, and browsing social media in between. I did pretty much nothing with all the opportunities I was given. Of course there’s an immense amount of people who are way worse off then me in every regard, so I am really grateful for everything I have. Including my family. For example, it was my brother and my father who helped me move today. So yeah, even though I pretty much failed completely in the way of making friends, I still have my closest family members to rely on, even though there might have been some troubles in the past. I guess that’s a big plus in my life too.

The room I moved to is perfectly fine btw. Enough space to walk about, once I get my stuff in order that is, and the roommate seems like a pretty great guy to talk to and stuff. So I think this will work out fine.

So what now? I’m looking at some things I didn’t quite succeed at and I think those are some of the things I will try to fix. So Tomorrow I will start by applying for a few more jobs, the day after I will look around town for some cool stuff, get to know the place a bit better and make some photographs after school, on Wednesday I will work my behind off at school and on Thursday I will go to a meeting for a study group and play some games with them. Perhaps you could say I just made some New City Resolutions, hopefully they will be better achievable than the resolutions of the other kind.

#venting #moving #psychology #i guess #resolutions #and stuff #personal #me

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maybe-theres-hope · 3 years

Text

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 3 (Final)

It’s here! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me: @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies @pragmaticoptimist34 if I forgot anyone please let me know!

Special thanks to my husband for reading this and making sure all my typos were gone :)

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 3/3 | This part: 10,877w | Total: 33,427w

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Mr. Strand,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your journey home was swift and uneventful. The entire house has been mourning yours and father’s departure since you left us. Mamà is convinced the lights are dimmer without the ambience of your father’s amusing anecdotes.

Elena has been lamenting the fullness of the house as well. She is easily bored without some new distraction every fortnight, but she swears she will convince you to visit again someday. I dare say we all will thank her if she can manage it.

In deference to our conversation, I will not try. I know you would not appreciate my needling.

Raquel cannot be bothered with the mundane occurrence of the comings and goings of visitors while she daydreams of castles and knights, so her opinion has not been asked. She still insists on helping Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, and Mamà still insists on having fits about it.

I must agree with my sister and mother, however. The house is a little less bright these days. Usually we can count upon sunlight and laughter to get us through the day, but those seem fleeting of late.

Flor misses you as well. She’s ornery when I ride her, as if she remembers a more beloved companion and I do not measure up. We lament your departure together when we meander the grounds.

Jimena is not often in the stable, so her opinion has not been ascertained either.

But enough of our melancholy!

How is it to be home? Travel can make us all weary, and you seemed so tired even before you set off. I hope you are feeling better in your own comfortable surroundings. Texas will always welcome you, but I know how good it is to feel your own dirt under your shoes. Please tell me something joyful, so that I can remember your face in gladness.

Your friend,

Christina Reyes

My dear friend,

As I sit beside the fire tonight, I am reminded of our last conversation. I am evermore grateful that you are taking on the no doubt immense burden of being my confidant while keeping our correspondence regarding these matters private from your family. Do not mistake me, if you at any time feel as though your obligation to me is taking precedent over your cherished feelings of love toward your family, please by all means give me but a word and I will cease my incessant pining.

Oh how I pine, dear Christina. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sound of rolling grass and smell wildflowers where there are none to be found. The city is bleak these days, and dark. What once was a welcome cacophony of life and commerce is now to me a teeming mass of sensation that I can barely stand for more than a moment. I long to feel the shift of earth under Flor’s hooves again, and for the caress of the soft breeze against my cheeks.

But enough of that for now. You asked in your letter for something joyful. My father has secured a deal with a contractor out West, and his—our line will stretch right to the Pacific, culminating at the coast. A fully developed coast to coast line, my father’s dream. It makes me so happy to see him so elated when he talks of it, and of me taking over it in time. I do not like to talk of him being gone, but it is inevitable he says. Men grow old, and pass on. He says what matters most is that we make a mark on the world we can be proud of, and that we touch people in ways that matter.

I cannot help but think that I have done neither.

I apologize again for my melancholy. When I sit to write to you I never intend to make you sad. Please, rejoice for my father and his accomplishments, for they reflect on me as well. I will take comfort in his happiness, and you can take comfort in my feeling it. That is enough for now.

Your friend,

TK Strand

TK,

I must address the most pressing concern from your letter immediately. You have touched us all, please know that. Please do not think you have not made a mark on the world, for our home would not have been the bright happy place it was while you were here without you to provide that light. Every day is a little darker, as I’ve said before, without you and your father in our midst.

Everyone is a little darker. Especially my brot

But enough of melancholy, as you said. I am delighted to hear of your father’s immense accomplishment. We are all so proud to be a part of it, a part of the future. I shall like to make the journey coast-to-coast someday on it, to me that would be such a wondrous thing!

I was wondering, would you tell me what Manhattan is like? I do admit I’ve only ever thought of it as bleak and loud and harsh, but surely folk as amiable as yourself and your father cannot come from such harshness. So please, tell me an anecdote of your days since you’ve returned. I’d love to hear of anything joyful. It would provide a balm to the monotony of country life.

Thinking of you always,

Christina Reyes

Dearest Christina,

Thank you for saying such kind things. I’ve always felt as if I were on the periphery of life. I’ve skated through it mostly by way of parties and luncheons with people who have little to talk about other than themselves. I’m just now getting to a point in my life where I do want to make a mark on the world. I know I can do that partially when I inherit my father’s legacy, and I intend to do it the utmost justice. But I find myself adrift in that I do have family and friends who love me, however…I do not have a love that speaks my heart’s language. A love that is built of trust and companionship and intimacy.

Please do not chide me for saying such things, we are friends and I feel I can talk about these delicate subjects with dignity. I thank you for your discretion.

But yes, as it stands, I have made no such mark on the world, have no such intimacy with which to grow old. I feel that the things we do in life do have a way of defining us, but they are far overshadowed by the people we choose to love.

In the past, I have chosen poorly, through no one’s fault but my own. I hope one day I can remedy that. But right now I feel, as I said, adrift. There is no one to hold me fast to the world, no one strive to do well for, after my father is gone. And I fear I may never have, as I have ceased looking. I cannot bear it at this moment.

Forgive me, my dearest friend, I have ignored your other request until now. Manhattan is much as it always is, loud and harsh, as you said. But most days it is a good distraction to hear the hustle and bustle outside my window. I do miss the Park and the promenade, but lately I haven’t felt well enough to venture out. I keep to my father’s study in our townhouse in Midtown while he visits the office near Gramercy and keeps me informed.

As I haven’t got a joyful anecdote from the days since our return, I will relate to you one from the past that is near and dear to my heart. When I was a young boy of about ten, my mother—God rest her soul—took me to the waterfront one day when my father was stolen from us with work. We gazed out over the Hudson, and even in my young age I tried to imagine that, just across the water, began the vastness of the North American continent. I used to try and picture what the land was like, what exotic treasures it held. I had never been anywhere, though my father had been to Chicago and Philadelphia numerous times.

I used to picture rolling hills, vast grasslands, and roaming livestock. I had been told most of the rest of the States consisted of farmland. I had never actually seen a bovine in person, but I had seen drawings. I childishly thought of it as one big zoo where all the animals roamed free, and the air always smelled crisp and clean. I imagined it was beautiful.

Funny thing is, I know now that that little boy of ten was at least partially right, at least about one particular place among that vastness.

I hope I have made you joyous,

TK Strand

My dear friend,

Your letter has made me joyous, in some ways. I wish you could have seen our home with childlike eyes, but alas I think it was better suited to you as you are now, and I’m glad you have experienced it and that it was to your liking. It truly means the world that you think of it as beautiful.

However, I have cause for concern where you have mentioned you have not been out, that you are unwell. Pray, please let me know how you get on, we all worry over you so. I happened to mention that excerpt of your letter at dinner, and I fear I may have incited a frenzy. I am humbly asked by my siblings to enquire after your health. Please tell us what ails you, so we can worry properly, and send up our prayers. I know we cannot do a thing for you, as far apart as we are now, but you are always in our hearts.

Mamà tells us that our business with your father is nearly finalized. I look forward to a ride on the line, hopefully with you as my guide. I must make the journey near winter, for I long to see snow. I’ve hitherto only read about it in books, a delicate powder that falls from the sky and blankets the world in white. How marvelous a sight must it be!

Be well,

Christina Reyes

Dear Christina,

As for your family, please tell them I am alright. I did not wish to frighten them or you, and I’m sorry for that. Please trust that our cook keeps me well with sandwiches and fruits when I am able to eat them. Everything is well when father is around to take up my time with business discussion, and as I said I am well distracted most days by the cacophony of the city outside.

I will venture out soon, I think, as my friends and acquaintances grow weary of my absence and I have left them all to their own devices for quite long enough, I suspect. I presume to know what they will want to discuss—an incident that took place just before our trip to Texas—it will be a drain on me to talk about it regardless. But I cannot put them off forever, I love them too much to deny them my company when they wish for it. Perhaps I’ll take a walk with one of them tomorrow, even if the air of the city is not nearly so keen and invigorating as the air of the country I have run from.

Please give my best to your family, I hope I have not caused anyone undue grief. I will only talk of happy things from here on out, when I eventually find them.

With affection,

TK Strand

P.S. I believe you know deep down what truly ails me, so I’ll not speak of it further lest I lose all dignity.

Mr. Michaels, the butler, stopped TK on his way to the dining room, handing him a card on a tray. He read it and smiled. “Miss Marwani called on you earlier, I told her you hadn’t yet come down. She left her card.”

“Thank you, Michaels. Will you send her a message that I’ll be free after luncheon today? I know it’s been so very long since I’ve made time to see her.”

“Yes, my lord. I dare say all your friends and acquaintances have been calling on us nonstop since your return home. But I trust it’ll take you a moment to get back into the swing of things after…your trip.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew what the butler was going to say before amending it. He’d been an absolute wreck after finding Alexander and the footman and had left for Texas only two days later. The entirety of the household and all of his friends must think he’s still in a melancholy state because of the slight.

If only they knew the truth. He might tell some of them, but only a select few he could trust. Michaels was a good man, and hadn’t overstepped. He’d practically raised TK since his father was so busy with the rail when he was younger. He knew the man was only looking out for his happiness.

“Michaels?” he said before turning to go on to the dining room for breakfast.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If you were faced with a time limit on a decision that governed your whole life, would you wait until you’d found the right solution? Or would you take the first viable solution to come along?”

TK knew that Michaels knew exactly what he was talking about, but was too polite to call attention to that fact. “I think if it were me, I’d examine every detail of each choice before deciding on the one most beneficial to my life in the long run. After all, some decisions are for a lifetime.” With this, he gave a small reproachful smile to his once young charge.

“Yes, well. What would you do if you’d found the right solution, but it turned out to be impossible?” TK’s eyes looked up in earnest at the butler, whose expression had turned kind and commiserating.

“I do hope you don’t think you’d found the right solution to this problem just before your departure?” It was obvious Michaels thought Alexander was far below TK even before the scandalous tryst was revealed.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” TK reassured. He was pensive for a moment, caught in his thoughts of rolling pasture and wildflowers, their scent dancing across his senses even from miles away. “I thought I had found the right avenue during my time away. It seemed a nice thing, a wonderful thing actually. I daresay my hopes were quite built up for a time. But in the end it proved, as I said, impossible.”

Michaels gazed at his young master for a moment, unmistakable pity in his eyes, but TK didn’t comment on it. He was too miserable.

“I hold the utmost confidence that the right choice is out there for you. But, my lord, you will never find it unless you leave this house eventually. I am glad you’ve decided to start breakfasting in the dining room again, and I know that if you do go out later today your color might begin to return. I worry for you, my lord. I hope I am not impertinent to say so.”

“No, no Michaels. You’re not impertinent. I know I’ve been ghastly to be around these last few weeks, and I do hope to remedy that. To begin…moving toward the future, no matter how much I wish I knew its contents.” TK gave the butler a sad smile before turning away again, the weight of all he wished for still on his shoulders and bright, luminous brown eyes on his mind, no matter how much he wished they’d fade.

“I know you’re still mourning Alexander and his licentious ways, but I promise you, you can do much better. His family isn’t even that well connected! He’ll be a faint stain on your past and nothing more.”

TK looked over at his friend, the navy ribbon on her silk evening bonnet getting caught by the light breeze weaving through the Park. Her dark eyes held an intense shine as they often did when she went on a tirade. He let himself smile at her ability to be both vicious and diplomatic.

“Marjan,” he chided gently, “his family owns three quarters of the orange trees in the country! I wouldn’t say he’s not well connected. Half of Florida bears his family name in some capacity.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” she spit delicately. TK was also impressed by her proficiency in cursing with a velvet tongue. “Then he should be sent off to oversee them. Rid this city of his stupidity. Even further! Florida is too close, send him to the West Coast! Let him disappear. Society will be all the better for it, mark my words."

TK was brought up short by the mere mention of the opposite coast, since thoughts of that region gave in to thoughts of a certain eligible bachelor which gave in to thoughts of his intended that TK desperately wished was his own intended and—

It must have shown on his face.

“TK, my friend, trust me. He is nothing of consequence.” Her voice had turned gentle again, not the outrage on his behalf she’d been spouting for the past few minutes. TK could not help connecting her statement with his thoughts, even if she was off the mark at the moment.

“I know that. It’s not him that unsettles me; he is firmly in my past and I shall not revisit my temporary lapse of judgement in giving him even a small parcel of my affection.” He patted her hand that rested in the crook of his arm as they walked leisurely around a small fountain, the sound of bubbling water serving to soothe his psyche for the time being.

She was silent for a moment before she tugged them to a pause on a semi-crowded knoll. “Then, pray tell, what has you so blue? Ever since you returned from the South you’ve been distant. I thought at first it was just lethargy left over from the long journey, but it has been over two months! I fear I shall never see you smile again as before. Please tell me what troubles you? Is it your father?”

Marjan was a close friend, and as such, she was privy to some news about his father’s health. The man wasn’t in immediate danger, but TK had confided in Marjan that his father had taken to being more…forceful in his demands that TK take a more active role in the business. He had a persistent cough but no fever as of yet. The doctors did what they could to alleviate the annoying ailment—as his father called it—but they all knew Owen Strand was beginning the downslope of his life. At nearly fifty years of age, he was nearing the last stretch of life expectancy and sometimes TK could see it plain on his father’s face. It made him apprehensive for the future, not to mention the fact that still stood: he had to marry before he could take over the business.

And that thought brought him back around to his other melancholy. For if the desired recipient of his affection would return said affection, he’d be happily married yesterday. But alas, it was not to be.

He dreaded a letter from Christina detailing an engagement. He knew it was coming soon, and he’d tried to resign himself to it. Perhaps she wouldn’t even tell him. After all, he’d asked as much of her. Nothing of Carlos, none at all; that had been his request.

“It is, partially, my father’s health that concerns me,” he said as he came out of his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand. “However I…”

“What is it?” Marjan asked when he refused to speak further after trailing off into silence. “What makes your heart ache so? I can see it in your eyes that it is your heart that is broken. If it was not Alexander, then who?”

Trust Marjan to read him like a book.

“I met someone. In Texas. Oh, Marjan—“ he paused a moment and could not help a smile crawling across his features at the thought of his week spent in bliss, before it all came crumbling down. “He is the most wonderful, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever met. At first I thought him a cad, as our first meeting was less than cordial. But upon learning why he felt as he did, I was persuaded to understand and to admire his candor. He spoke of his home with love and deference, and it was such a treasure to be shown the land with such a companion.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the apple orchard. Marjan caught his flush and smiled.

“And so? When shall we expect an announcement?”

TK’s smile quickly dimmed to a grimace, now tasked with completing the story.

“An announcement will not come, I’m afraid. He is betrothed to another. I found out on our second to last night in Austin, and I must confess I did not handle it well. I made a complete fool of myself and I’d like to never repeat it by seeing him again.”

“Wait, he did not tell you he was spoken for? And he courted you just the same and let you think you had a chance?” Her voice was angry and TK sought to soothe it with the truth.

“Truthfully, he never actually courted me. We were thrust together by circumstance, and he was a perfect gentleman throughout. It was I who read too much into each interaction, each conversation, each dance held in his arms. It was I who was a complete fool to let my feelings show on my face to all his family when they all knew nothing would ever come of it. I feel so stupid, Marjan. I practically begged father to cut the trip short. But…” he paused again, thinking of the dust kicking up behind Jimena’s hooves as Carlos rode out to meet their carriage after they’d already set off. The small bud of Indian Paintbrush was still blooming in a jar of water next to his bed.

“But?” She prompted.

“There were some moments where…where I could swear that he…but it was obviously a trick of my imagination. His betrothed is a marvelous gentleman, beloved by all, and he would be a fool not to accept an eventual proposal. As I said, it is well and truly over and out of the question that my pursuit would yield any happiness.”

Marjan was silent while they resumed their walk, her hand steady in the crook of his arm. Eventually, she spoke softly. “Well, I must admit I am glad this melancholy is not on Alexander’s account, but I also must admit I am saddened by this turn of events. I know you to be a perfect gentleman, and I have always wished you could find someone as wonderful as you to share your life with. I know you’ll do great things and I know you want someone to share those triumphs with. If this man is who you feel is perfect for you, why not fight for him? It is not in your nature to give up so easily.”

“That’s just it, Marjan. He is perfect, and honorable. Which is why I could not jeopardize his honor by asking him to abandon a promise he made before he met me. I would never forgive myself if his good name was tarnished.”

They walked in silence until the end of the lane, where they turned to leave the Park and hail a carriage back to Marjan’s home up the avenue.

When TK returned home later in the evening, Michaels stopped him in the entryway and held out a tray. “This came for you while you were out, my lord.”

TK took the proffered package and stared at it in confusion. The return address from from Christina, but usually all she sent were letters. This parcel was still small, the shape of a single letter, but thicker. It weighed little, giving no clue as to its contents.

“Thank you, Michaels. Is dinner set already? Do I have time to change?”

“You should, my lord. I shall call for you in about half an hour. Your father is in the parlor already, if you wish to check in with him, now you’re home.”

“Was he missing me? Did he need something?” TK wondered, a little worried.

Michaels smiled. “No, my lord. He was actually quite content all day, and was happy that you’d gone to call on Miss Marwani. I only say to check in because he probably hopes to hear how happy a time you had.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew he was worrying his father with his refusal to leave his own rooms for the past weeks. It saddened him further that he could have possibly made his father’s condition worse by stressing him. He vowed to himself to make a better effort to get back into real life sooner rather than later. After all, as he’d told Marjan earlier, there was nothing to be done about…Mr. Reyes. That was well and truly over, in fact it had never begun. There was no reason to pine after a man who did not do the same for him. TK was worth more than that.

Yes, he must convince himself of that, and quickly.

“Alright, Michaels. I’ll change quickly and meet him. Thank you,” he said with a small nod. Turning to ascend the stairs, he started to unwrap the small, delicate parcel Christina had sent. As he entered his rooms, his efforts revealed that there was, in fact, a letter inside. However it was nestled atop a small folded square of cloth, delicate and airy and fine.

Setting the letter aside for the moment, he unfolded the fabric to reveal that it was a handkerchief, finely made and embroidered in bright colored thread. The edges were a gleaming yellow, reminding him of sunlight. On one corner, no bigger than his thumb, was the most intricate rendition of a yellow wildflower—he recognized it almost instantly.

He moved to sit on the nearest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed. The pads of his fingers caressed the tiny design reverently, as if touching it would somehow unravel all the thread that comprised it. As if by acknowledging that it was there, it was already in danger of disappearing. There was no doubt of the reference used—he had seen so many of those little yellow blossoms on his journey around the Reyes ranch. The breath left his body as his mind’s eye conjured a bright smile and the smell of clean sweetness on the air.

After he’d regained some of his composure, he picked up the letter. It was shorter than most of her other letters, which stood to reason as he’d just received her last one a few days ago and he’d yet to answer it. She must have sent this just behind her previous one.

Beloved TK,

I hope you are well. I know I have just posted a letter to you two days ago, but I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you. I know how you enjoyed the wildflowers around our home, and I wished for you to have a reminder of them—especially one less prone to wilting than the genuine article.

You are always in my our thoughts, and I wished to keep us in yours. Please, think of Austin when you hold this token, and know that you are so dearly missed.

Yours in heart,

Christina Reyes

TK stared. It seemed as though the letter had been written in some sort of haste, as it was unusual for Christina’s hand. The letters were slightly more slanted, and the spaces between paragraphs larger than her delicate way. Even her signature was off, as if it had been written by a proxy. And the contents…she’d never called him a beloved friend before. Well, no, it wasn’t even friend. It was just “beloved”.

He wondered if she was growing melancholy herself for some unknown reason. The letter seemed sincere, but heavier than her usual correspondence, as if she was feeling his absence more acutely in this instance.

Furthermore, he wasn’t sure he’d told her about what the wildflowers meant to him. He’d thought that was something he and Mr. Reyes had shared between themselves for the short time they’d been acquainted. But perhaps her brother had recited a few of their outings to her, and remarked on TK’s fascination with the surrounding flora of the country.

Perhaps.

He concluded that the whole parcel was a product of a hastily made decision when she’d seen the handkerchief in the window, and the oddities contained within the letter were the result of her haste to get it posted while she was still in town that same day.

He gently tucked the gift into a box next to his bed, giving it one last longing stare before closing the lid and beginning to dress for dinner.

“We’ve had a letter from the Doña,” his father said over luncheon a few days later as he perused said letter which Michaels had handed to him upon their arrival in the dining room. “It seems her agent agrees to our terms, and they are sending a liaison with the documents to finalize.” He set the page down on the table and picked up his glass of port. “I do believe we are almost settled with the entirety of the preparations, and we can begin construction early next year!”

“That’s wonderful news, father,” TK said quietly, his tone not matching his words. He was looking down at his plate with no intention of picking up his fork, so he missed his father’s knowing and saddened expression.

“It is. Another piece of news that I’ve gathered from earlier today, is that the Vanderbilts are throwing a ball tomorrow night. Well, I suppose Mrs. Vanderbilt is, at any rate, and Mr. Strickland asks if you can accompany him.”

“I don’t know, father. I’m not sure I’m feeling well enough to socialize on such a scale. I’ll be a bore to everyone there and then you will have to answer for my behavior.”

“I don’t think you’d be a bore to Mr. Strickland, surely. He’s been asking after you these last few weeks. I daresay he plans to eventually kidnap you from your rooms if you do not answer his calls. Surely he’ll want to hear how you’re getting on?” His father’s transparency was apparent, but TK did not call him out on it.

“I don’t know, father. I’m not quite well at the moment so I probably shouldn’t be gallivanting about at parties.”

“You are unwell because you refuse to eat or see sunlight,” Owen said, not unkindly. His next words were suffused with affection and it only made TK’s heart ache more. “My son, I worry for you. The whole household does. Mrs. Talbot says you only ate half the small sandwich she brought you last night. And you haven’t touched your soup yet since we’ve sat down. I worry you’ll be skin and bones before long.” His words weren’t scolding, only concerned.

“I’m sorry to worry you, father, and the servants. I just find it…difficult to keep anything down. It all tastes like ash, and I know that description would never do Mrs. Talbot’s cooking justice.” At this, he made a gamely attempt to sip a spoonful of soup, and found his assessments confirmed. He swallowed anyway, and kept the grimace off his face with great effort.

“Tyler,” his father said in that affectionate tone once more, “You must try to move past your heartbreak. I know that’s what it is,” he said as TK made to interrupt him, “I know it when I look at your face and see only sadness. I know it when I hear from Michaels that you have not descended the stairs all day while I’ve been at the office. I know it because that single flower is still thriving at your bedside.” At this, he had the decency to look only slightly chagrined. TK said nothing.

“I looked in on you a few nights ago. You didn’t come down to dinner and I was worried you’d gone hungry again. Your sleep looked restless. I also noticed a letter from Miss Christina.”

“You went through my things?” TK said without any real malice. He knew his father meant well but he had put a lot of private thoughts into those letters and Christina had answered them in kind.

“I only ascertained that she wishes to see snow. You should take her up on her request to ride the line once it is finished. I know she would love to see you again. And maybe by then, it will be less painful for you.” Owen’s face was drawn.

“Maybe, in a year or two. For now I am content with her letters.”

“What does she write of her brother?” his father asked.

“Nothing, because I asked her not to,” TK replied. He again missed his father’s pained expression of concern as he took another forced sip of his soup from his spoon. His hand trembled slightly at the most direct mention of Carlos since his talk with Marjan earlier in the week.

Owen seemed to take this answer as a plea to end the subject of conversation. He simply watched his son silently, wishing he could help ease his pain and knowing he was unable.

“Mr. Cartwright has not stopped staring in this direction since we sat down,” Paul remarked over the swell of the music, another quadrille beginning causing cheers and the shuffle of feet to the dance floor.

“Perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to ask you to dance,” TK answered as he sipped his brandy. Paul was a dear friend, and he was happy to be in his company, he just wished it didn’t have to be surrounded by laughing couples and a revelry he felt entirely apart from.

His friend gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? He’s been shamelessly staring at you,” Paul countered. “He’s practically mapped out every thread in your coat, the cad.”

“I doubt that. No amiable gentleman would give me a second glance as I look now. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. I’m well aware the color in my cheeks and the bulk of my frame have left me. The servants, my father, you, and Marjan remind me every day of that. How could I be any object of desire?”

It had been a full week since his first venture out of the house with Marjan—and nearly three months since his return from Texas—and TK was trying for his friends’ sake to get back out into the world. Hence accepting the invitation to a ball at the home of some debutante or another of their set, with Paul as his moral support should he feel the need to flee the social setting at his earliest convenience. TK was still trying to get used to other people around him being so happy and carefree when he himself wished to crawl into his bed and remain there until the second coming.

He knew full well that his behavior wasn’t healthy. He’d made the decision himself to try and get past his heartbreak, lest it cripple him forever which definitely could not happen if he wanted to give his father any peace of mind.

“My friend,” Paul chided kindly, “you’ve always been a vision, sought after by many a connected suitor. You haven’t lost your appeal I can promise you. We harp on your well-being because we care about how you’re feeling on the inside, and the outside is a good testament to that. I dare say it’s made you more desirable, at least to those who’ve mourned your absence since your trip, that you’ve stayed away. It inflates the intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle that TK tried to match.

“Well I’m afraid Mr. Cartwright will have to find another object of desire. I do not believe I could content anyone as a courting partner as of now. I need a bit more time to settle back in, I think.” That was as diplomatic as TK could be about it. The reality was that he’d still been unable to remove thoughts of Mr. Reyes from his mind, and it grew more difficult every day. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and rubbed the delicate fabric of the handkerchief between his fingers, feeling the bumps and valleys of the embroidery, and almost smelling the sweet scent of the country in the air.

He hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes until he felt a brush of air next to his face as a reveler approached their table.

“Hello, Mr. Strand,” Mr. Cartwright beamed. It seemed he’d worked up the courage to approach after all.

“Good evening. Are you enjoying the festivities?” He answered, attempting cordiality.

“Of course. And yourself, Mr. Strand? Wouldn’t you better enjoy things in their midst than here on the periphery? Fancy a dance on the next waltz?” The man sounded so eager that TK almost obliged. But his honor would not let him lead the man on.

“I’m afraid I’ve quite exhausted myself already,” he said, even though all he’d done was make one round and plop himself into his current seat since arriving. “I do apologize for being unavailable, but I’m sure there is someone else dying to catch your hand for a waltz. Please let me do them the favor of leaving you available.”

It was almost comical the way the man’s face fell, but TK was not in danger of showing any glee at it on his face. He understood far to well the melancholy of unrequited affection. But alas, he could not feign interest at the moment, so he let the man trudge away with only a bit of guilt.

“He’ll get over it,” he said when he caught Paul’s glance.

“But will you?” It was clear he wasn’t talking about Mr. Cartwright.

TK didn’t answer. He could not.

The day of the arrival of the Doña’s liaison dawned and once again TK could barely face the sunlight. He wished with all his heart that he could place the blame on too much of the good-natured debauchery that plagued his set when they got into their drinks, but he knew he could not. He’d barely partaken in a full glass of brandy with his father after dinner the night before.

He felt some guilt at not hurrying down to meet the man at his father’s side, as would be expected of an only son in position to run his father’s business someday, but could barely bring himself to nibble at the scones Mrs. Talbot had sent up the night before.

Sooner or later, however, he knew he must face the day. He finally got himself dressed near luncheon time, deeming his appearance presentable enough for a middle manager he’d never meet again.

He straightened his collar and pulled his lapels taut just before Michaels announced him upon entering the parlor. As he surveyed the scene before him, his stride halted, all breath left his lungs, and the color drained from his face.

Seated on the settee across from his father and wearing the most disarmingly beautiful smile, eyes dancing in the sunlight filtering in through the damask curtains, was Carlos Reyes.

The man had clearly just been given some wonderful news, though TK couldn’t imagine what his own father could have told him to elicit such a response, but it was plain on his face that he’d just been told something truly delightful. However, when his eyes strayed to the entrance to the room upon Michaels announcing TK’s presence, the smile on his face faded slowly to a deep concern. TK didn’t miss the subtle perusal of his person, Carlos looking over his face with a slight furrow of his brow that grew deeper the longer TK stood there dumbfounded.

Mr. Reyes, of course, was the first to remember his manners, though his employment of them seemed over the top to TK. He’d jumped up and nearly ran over to TK, taking his elbow in hand ever so gently as if the touch was nothing. As if it didn’t send TK’s whole world tilting.

“Mr. Strand! I…please, sit. Should I fetch some water? You look like you’ll be ill any moment…” He sounded almost…afraid. Not disgusted and annoyed as TK thought he might have been upon their next meeting. After all, TK was the one who’d made a fool of himself by pining like an imbecile in front of the Reyes’ family and friends. He could only imagine how much Mr. Reyes regretted their time together, now that he’d had a few months to ponder it.

“I’m alright, Mr. Reyes, thank you,” TK managed to croak out as the man ushered him to a chair across the room, seemingly careful as not to touch him.

He must be master of himself! This was almost more embarrassing than what had initially transpired between them in Texas. “I…hadn’t known that you’d be coming as your mother’s agent. I was only…surprised to see you. Here.” He forced his lips to stop moving.

Mr. Reyes’ face had yet to lose it’s pinched brow and shining eyes. What TK had initially catalogued as fear now looked like…concern. But that was impossible. Only, maybe not, since Mr. Reyes was a quite honorable and sensible man, and TK knew he looked gaunt and lifeless on his best days lately.

Turning to look at his father, TK only noticed that he too was focused on Mr. Reyes, and TK couldn’t quite place his expression. He’d been smiling as well when TK entered, and now he seemed a bit subdued but no less mirthful. It was an odd juxtaposition. Just then, he turned to his son and gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I must be off. Quite a bit to get finalized with the documents you’ve brought me.” He stood and offered a hand to Mr. Reyes. “How long did you say you’d be in the city?”

“A few days, sir. I had hoped…well, my mother wishes me to return with everything in order,” he answered cryptically as they shook. His face was hopeful though TK couldn’t think why. They had pretty well come to a mutually beneficial agreement through correspondence. The rest was simply formality at this point. He couldn’t think what else would need to be settled.

“I’m sure she does,” Owen said with a smile and another odd look at TK. He could not figure what to make of the exchange, but truth be told he was still reeling from Carlos—Mr. Reyes, he reminded himself—being in his home so unexpectedly.

His father was turning to him next. “Tyler, would you be a gentleman and show Mr. Reyes about for a bit? I’m sure he’d like to stretch his legs after his long journey. You could take a taxi to the Park?”

TK fought the urge to gape at his father. He expected them to be…alone? What would they even discuss? TK wished the Turkish rug’s threads would open up and sew him into the floor.

He was however, as his father said, a gentleman, and he could not let his manners slip no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but alone in the confines of a taxi and then in the beautiful intimacy of the Park at dusk with Carlos Reyes.

“Of course, father. It would be my pleasure.” Somehow the words left his lips without a tremble. Or so he hoped. He did not think his father could be so cruel, knowing TK’s heart.

Mr. Reyes looked half ecstatic and half terrified. TK could relate whole-heartedly.

As Owen bid them good night and made to ascend the stairs to his study, TK slowly turned to look at his circumstantial companion. Here they were once again, thrust into each other. TK thought back to that first morning they’d toured the ranch together; Mr. Reyes had been cordial, despite their initial meeting and his own hesitation about the Strand’s business with his family. He’d been courteous and knowledgable about the land, wishing to give TK a good impression which TK in turn appreciated.

He vowed to himself he would attempt to do the same when showing Mr. Reyes his own home.

With somewhat renewed countenance, TK took a breath. “Well, shall we, Mr. Reyes?” His voice barely shook. The man in question gave him a fond smile that melted TK’s very soul.

“Lead the way, Mr. Strand.”

The taxi ride proved to undo all of TK’s borrowed confidence. Sitting so close their knees brushed reminded him of riding through the apple orchard, which in turn reminded him of Carlos’ hand in his, which set his heart fluttering and mind whirling, which led to an awkward silence the likes of which TK never wanted to experience again. Mr. Reyes was waiting for him to speak, it seemed—as TK was ostensibly his guide in this place unfamiliar to him—and he was thoroughly incapable. All that accompanied them was the clap of the horses’ hooves on the stones and both their nervous breathing.

When they arrived at the southwest corner of the Central Park, TK paid the driver and slipped out before Mr. Reyes could offer him a hand. He knew not what he would do if he felt that warmth upon his skin again in his current state. The other man looked a bit let down, but TK dismissed it as a trick of his longing imagination.

They entered and set about the promenade which, even at this time of the evening, was still thronged with late perusers. As they walked among the fresh grass and beautiful tree lined paths, TK did his best to drum up the wherewithal to speak, to offer some manner of conversation lest he seem rude in his silence.

“I suppose it looks rather…artificial to you,” he said quietly.

Mr. Reyes startled a bit, apparently accustomed to TK’s lack of voice thus far, but he recovered quickly with an eager smile turned to his companion.

“Not at all! It’s all very…whimsical I think. This beautiful bounty of nature preserved in the middle of all that stone and brick. It’s…peaceful.”

“Yes,” TK thought aloud. “It’s quite serene. The further in you go, the less the city outside of it seems real. The sounds and smog melt away and you just feel…” he trailed off, words failing.

“Like we’re in our own little Eden.” Carlos’ eyes were like pools of shining dark chocolate in the gaslamp light. Sweet and alluring.

TK could only nod dumbly, and try to look away. He accomplished it with much difficulty.

They walked in a much softer silence for a time, passing a couple of people TK recognized from parties and balls around the city, but they never stopped to converse with anyone. Mr. Reyes seemed to want to keep his company for himself, which TK could not think what to do about, so he remained passively quiet.

About half an hour into their journey, his companion spoke.

“I’ve actually got something I’d like to…well, first there’s something I…I need to tell you.” Carlos’ face was unreadable, but his tone was quiet and reserved. TK’s heart clenched painfully. Carlos had been in an odd countenance since his arrival, and TK could only attribute it to the awkwardness surrounding his ridiculous assumptions about Carlos’ feelings and the utter embarrassment of his departure from Texas.

“Oh?” was all he said, suddenly breathless with an ache he could barely stand.

“I’m not sure if you were informed when you last visited, but—” he paused for so long, TK turned to look at him at his side, wondering what halted his speech. His face was still unreadable, but his voice now had a very slight tremble to it. TK tried to keep his own face open, so that Mr. Reyes felt safe to continue.

“For several years now I have had an...understanding. With a gentleman from California, with whom my family is quite acquainted.”

The vice around TK’s heart clenched cruelly at the reminder. “Yes, Mr. de Castillo. Your mother and sisters—and some of those from the county—told me about him. Quite admired, he is, by all.”

“Yes…” His voice trailed off into silence again, and this time when TK sneaked a look he seemed troubled. TK wished he could put the man’s fears at ease, that if he feared a faux pas in tearing down TK’s feelings that he needn’t worry about it.

But that would have been a lie.

“Yes,” he said again, going on. “We’ve actually been courting these last months, not long after yours and your father’s departure.”

TK took the blow as best he could, with a calm countenance, when really he wished this torturous conversation would end so that he could limp back to his bed and curl up in misery until the second coming. Why on earth did Carlos feel the need to do this? Weren’t they settled in being apart from each other? No more than business acquaintances?

The thought alone dealt his heart another painful blow.

“About a month ago he—he called on me to...state his intentions.” His voice sounded flatter than TK would assume from a happily engaged man. Still, he tried to inject some light into his own tone when he answered.

“I am so happy for you, Car—Mr. Reyes,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which, admittedly, was not very much at all.

However, his tone must have belied his utter devastation because Mr. Reyes abruptly stopped and gently tugged him to the side of the path, so that they would not impede other couples on the promenade. TK almost swooned at the touch.

“I’m sorry?” the other man said, a look of confusion and slight hurt across his beautiful eyes. TK was now confused as well.

“I...I only wish to convey my happiness on your engagement. You must be thrilled to have your future finally settled. Not only must it be a relief, but with such a fine gentleman as I have heard.” Carlos’ hand was still lightly holding onto his upper arm, and though it pained TK in the worst way to do it, he ever so deftly maneuvered his body so that the contact was dropped.

“I think that...well I...that is…” Carlos was staring at him, that hurt look growing in his brown eyes and TK wanted nothing more than to take it away but he didn’t know how.

“Mr. Strand—TK,” he said so softly that TK could hear his own heart beat in the silence. “I think that you have...misunderstood me.” TK had been staring at a spot over Carlos’ shoulder until then, unable to meet his eyes any longer for fear he’d burst into tears in the middle of Central Park, but at the plea he shifted his watery gaze back to sink into the pools of liquid chocolate in front of him.

“Mr. de Castillo—Fernando, that is—has proposed marriage to me, it’s true—” In the minuscule pause between these words and the next set, TK felt his heart slow to a stop with the inexorable weight set upon it by this conversation, “—but I have turned him down.”

And at this, that traitorous heart gave one slow, painful beat of hope that TK was powerless to tamp down.

When he could find his voice, it was to incredulously say, “Whatever for?”

Carlos reached down to take TK’s hand in his, and TK was sure he was trembling like a sheaf of paper caught in the wind. He brought it between both his hands, brushing the knuckles ever so lightly—so much so that TK was sure he’d imagined it.

“Because I could not marry a man that I do not love, and I do not love Fernando. No matter how much of a wonderful and kind gentleman he is, and no matter how ashamed and saddened it made me to tell him so. But I cannot betray my own heart.”

TK’s legs were going to give out any moment. He had no other thought in his head but staying upright, using that tentative hold on his hand, still gentle as ever, as his anchor. He dare not let his thoughts follow themselves to any conclusions.

“The truth is, TK, my heart belongs to another. It has for some time, and I was too stubborn with misplaced loyalty to give it a say. That is, until now. Which is why I imparted the information to you.”

TK kept staring into the man’s eyes, wondering if this was all some dream he’d tumbled into in slumber. He was sure this must be his own mind conjuring the conversation, guilty as it was of yearning for it.

“I wish to apologize for taking so very long to come to my senses. I always strive to be honorable, and for a time I thought that meant that I must remain true to Fernando. But I’ve been made to realize that my thinking was wrong.” TK could only take the words in stride, adrift as he was on the roaring sea of his emotions.

The man continued, while TK himself was made to listen to the most illogical combination of words his brain could have come up with in his current state. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Carlos reaching down and taking both his hands did nothing to bring him out of said state. Furthermore, it made him feel as if he was about to float away into the stars, unmoored as he was except for those twin points of contact.

“You are the most optimistic, brilliant, engaging creature I have ever known. Your smile could light up a room if every candle failed. I find myself riveted any time you’ve got an anecdote to tell, and in these months of not hearing your voice I have conjured it in my dreams more times than I care to admit.

“I wish to spend the rest of my days making you smile and laugh, waking with the morning sunshine just to see how it dapples your face, and admiring you from across the dinner table every single evening for the rest of my life. TK, if I have been mistaken, and you do not return my affections, please stop me from making a further fool of myself.” This he said with a little nervous chuckle that cut straight through TK’s very soul. He looked up through his lashes at TK, nervous.

TK, in turn, was struck dumb by the confession. Carlos apparently took this as a queue to continue to the most preposterously happy thing that had yet to be uttered in this very winding conversation that had had TK’s heart in knots since it began.

“Mr. Strand. If I have not been remiss in my assumptions of your affection, I urge you, no I beg you to consider my humble plea. Would you consent to be my husband? It would make me the happiest man in the entire world.”

TK felt himself take in a slow, careful breath. It took several moments for him to find his voice, and then it was only to utter on a half-expelled gasp, “Truly?”

“Yes, truly,” was the nearly equally breathless answer.

Again, it was a struggle to find volume behind the utter euphoria that had overtaken him, but soon enough, he pushed the words out in a little more than a whisper, lest he accidentally shout and call undue attention. “Then, yes. Yes!” Tears were already warming his cheeks and chin, but TK didn’t care a wit. He went easily as Carlos embraced him tightly, feeling warmth suffusing his entire body at every place they touched.

Before long, they had to part, lest they invite accusations of impropriety.

“I…I had thought…well it doesn’t matter now I suppose,” he stammered, thoughts swirling with emotion and unable to tamp them down. Not wanting to.

“I apologize again for taking so long. Your smile, your face is all I’ve thought about for months. The moment you were gone my heart sank to the deepest depths.”

“Mine as well,” TK admitted. “I have…neglected myself these last few months, I’m afraid. I thought I could learn to forget you in time, but alas…”

“When you entered the parlor, I was distraught to see you looking unwell. Please, I beg of you, please take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“I know. I apologize for my appearance. I did not mean to give you cause for concern.”

Carlos briefly reached up to touch TK’s slightly sunken cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, for it is my silence that has caused you such distress, but I also find myself elated that you feel the same as I do. I can still scarcely believe it.” His voice was rising with happiness, and TK felt drunk on it like the sweetest wine. “I must admit, though, I cannot claim full responsibility for coming to my senses. Christina was quite adamant that I was being an imbecile.”

TK looked down at the ground for a moment. “I…asked her—no, begged her really—not to speak of you in our correspondence.”

“She told me. It’s why I—“ Carlos stopped abruptly, looking chagrined.

“What is it?” TK asked.

“Well I…I knew you did not want to speak to me, but I just had to…that is I…I sent you…something. I wrote a letter and signed her name to it. She laughed about it later, but she called me an utter fool for not being more courageous about it.

TK halted in the middle of the path. Immediately, he knew. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a delicate fold of linen edged in bright yellow. He held it gently in his fingers, caressing the soft folds that had cemented themselves after so long kept in his pocket.

Even in the lamplight, he could see Carlos’ face flush slightly.

“I wanted to court you properly, but circumstances were…well. In the end I was cowardly about it I suppose.” He ducked his head bashfully.

“I think, deep down, I knew. I didn’t want to let myself believe, but…I’d never spoken to Christina about the wildflowers.” TK’s own voice was reverent.

“She told me that. When I told her what I’d done, she told me you would see right through it.”

“You called me beloved…”

Carlos looked deep into his eyes. “Yes.”

TK nearly swooned again, new tears dripping down his cheeks which were positively sore with how much he was smiling. He tucked the treasure back into his jacket.

“We’ll have to tell my father, I suppose,” he said after a time, absolutely giddy as they began to walk along the path again, back to the streets toward the Strands’ home.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten his blessing,” Carlos answered with a smug grin to answer TK’s astonished expression. “That’s what we were talking about earlier today, before you interrupted us.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I think I’d like very badly to kiss you, but I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me, would we?’ His smile was absolutely radiant. TK thought to himself that if this were to be his life, staring at this gorgeous face full of love for all his days, he’d never be unhappy again.

The fire was dying down and Carlos finally moved to take his leave.

“Must you go?” TK couldn’t quite keep the pout from his voice, but at least now, he did not care too much if Carlos heard it.

“I’ve stayed too long as it is, people will talk,” he answered with an indulgent smile as TK walked him out of the parlor and into the hallway. The servants had long gone to bed, so it was up to TK himself to help Carlos on with his coat.

“You’re my fiance now,” he said, glowing all the while and unable to help it. “People will have to get used to the fact that I want to be around you every waking moment of the day without pause.”

“Yes, but no one knows that yet and I wouldn’t want to besmirch your good name.”

“When will I see you again, then?” He slid the overcoat onto broad shoulders, nearly letting his fingers linger a bit too long for propriety.

“I’ll call tomorrow to meet with your father again. We do have actual business to finalize after all. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Now it was Carlos’ turn to pout a bit, and TK was powerless against it.

“Of course. Well, I’ll say good night.” He looked up into the face of the most beautiful man, the man he was going to spend the rest of his unbelievably happy days with.

“Good night, my heart,” said Carlos, reaching up a hand to caress TK’s face so gently it caused an aching pang in his heart. Slowly, carefully, he moved his calloused thumb across TK’s lips, back and forth a few times as if trying to memorize the shape of them. TK gave a small shudder.

“My, Mr. Reyes, you’re being very forward.” He couldn’t help smiling. As the man had not removed his hand yet, TK pursed his lips ever so slightly, bestowing a chaste kiss against his thumb.

Carlos chuckled softly, covering an intake of breath. “Now who’s forward?” He was smiling so wide it looked as if it hurt.

“You’re my fiance,” TK answered against the warm skin, the word still feeling like glistening honey in his mouth, “I can be as forward as I like.”

“God in heaven, I want to kiss you.” Carlos looked like he might do it, but restrained himself as a gentleman should. They’d pushed the bounds of propriety enough for one day, TK supposed. Though he would have welcomed it gladly, as clandestine and salacious as it would have been. After a few more strokes, Carlos finally dropped his hand from TK’s face. “This will have to do for now, I suppose.” He took TK’s own hand in his and laid a gentle kiss against his knuckles.

“But not for long?”

“No, my heart. Not for long. I won’t be able to do with a long engagement. I will perish before I make it to the church if you make me wait for more than a couple of months.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But my father will want to invite the whole of New York, so you know.” He couldn’t help a roll of his eyes, however fond the gesture was. His father loved a good party, and the marriage of his only son—finally, he would probably say—was sure to prove one for the ages.

“Ah, yes, and we mustn’t forget the entirety of the county back home, if my mother and Christina have anything to say about it,” Carlos said with another fond chuckle. “You have her to thank, by the way. For getting me out of my head and back on solid ground. My sister is your champion in sickness and in health. That is, until I get to call you my husband.”

TK shuddered again at the mere word.

“I really should go,” Carlos said again. He made no move toward the door.

“You really should,” TK prompted. He moved to open the door, and finally they broke their gaze from each other.

As Carlos stepped out, he turned to smile one last time and it turned TK’s stomach into a whole flock of butterflies. “Good night, dearest. I’ll call on you and your father tomorrow.”

“I will be dying a slow death until that moment breathes me back to life,” TK lamented.

“As will I.”

TK watched him walk away into the night before finally closing the door against the chill of the Manhattan midnight. For several long moments, he simply leaned against the door and caught his breath, giving thanks to all the forces that managed to bring the two of them together so favorably. He’d have to write to Christina the moment he woke in the morning.

#tarlos period drama #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #of will and wildflowers #brooke writes #IT'S DONE GUYS #enjoy :)#I'm going to sleep now

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Seven // “Tobi”

Tobi

Expendable. This is the word that Obito Uchiha hears most frequently from his “savior” and Master, Madara: Expendable. “Everyone in that group is expendable, Obito. Pawns. A means to an end. Getting attached is pointless; they are not your family; I am.” And maybe he’s right, but ... it’s already too late for Obito. He IS attached to this group; they’ve become the family that he’s never had. They weren’t Expendable by any stretch of the imagination, and Obito lives just to be around them ... even when he’s forced to act like the simpleton that Tobi is. Still, there are times when the Uchiha can have a lot of fun with these people — and this Mistletoe game is definitely one of them.

Itachi

Itachi is a difficult one for Obito to read , and even harder to understand. On one level, he’s positive that Itachi knows (or at the very least suspects) that “Tobi” isn’t who he portrays himself to be. But on the other hand, two things that Obito can read for sure are that Itachi is sick, and his depression is so immense that it crushes out almost all other thoughts. Itachi is the sole reason Obito keeps presenting himself as the idiotic Tobi, because to reveal himself would mean death, swift and sweet. He’s not even sure that Madara would have the power to stand up to Itachi. Nevertheless, the time and place for such thoughts isn’t standing under the mistletoe. “Heya, Itachi-san! Ya ready to kiss Tobi now?” Itachi merely nods, but makes no move to approach Tobi. So Tobi walks up to him instead, moves the mask just slightly off his lips, and kisses his cheek. “There ya go!” Itachi goes, and Obito breathes out a sigh of relief. Still, though, he can’t help but feel a little sad, at what he feels to be the impending demise of his fellow clansmen.

Sasori

Sasori has mixed feelings about Tobi. On the one had he feels that he’s just a simplistic moron who doesn’t really warrant a second thought. But on the other hand — Tobi seems really, really attached to his Senpai, and Sasori’s partner, Deidara. Attached in a way that seems, at times, in a way that’s more than purely friendly. Almost like he — but wait, why does Sasori even care what Tobi may or may not feel for the young blonde? It’s not as though Sasori has (or desires) any kind of claim on Deidara, right? The fact that Tobi is standing in front of him right now and Sasori wants nothing more than to murder him and toss his body to the wolves has absolutely nothing to do with Deidara, right? The fact that Pein keeps Sasori back at the hideout more and more to help with strategizing, and sends Tobi out with Deidara in Sasori’s place ... it was all for the best, right? “Oh boy! Tobi gets to kiss Sasori-san!” Sasori grimaces, as he always does, at the grating voice coming from behind the mask. Instead of waiting for Tobi to kiss him, Sasori takes the initiative by leaning up and quickly kissing his cheek. He walks away feeling inexplicably angry ... and it’s not until much later that night, as he’s sitting at his desk working on a puppet while everyone else sleeps ... that he realizes that when he kissed Tobi, he smelled the shampoo that Deidara used. He continues working but doesn’t get much accomplished, as he spends half the night pondering why the idea of Tobi being around Deidara makes him feel so unsettled.

Kisame

Ugh; this kid. Or was Tobi older than that? Kisame honestly had no idea how old Tobi actually was; he doubted that any of them did. Granted he acted like a tall 10 year old — but surely that’s just an act. He’d have to remember to ask Deidara later — did Tobi have any special combat skills? Did he know any useful jutsus? What was his fighting style like? So many unknowns, so many things to wonder about. And throughout it all, wafting from Tobi and straight into Kisame’s nostrils, that unmistakable scent of a predator. But in the wild, the only way to show superiority to a predator was to show that you weren’t afraid. Kisame walks confidently up to him, and flashes him a wide smile that showcases all of his razor-sharp teeth. “You ready, kid?” Tobi nods, and to Kisame’s credit, Tobi actually DOES seem intimidated by the death-trap mouth. That, and the fact that samehada, who is currently strapped to Kisame’s side, has his head up and staring directly at the man in the mask. Kisame steps forward and kisses Tobi’s forehead, then quickly walks away again, before his own fear can leak through his brave facade.

Zetsu

Zetsu flat-out declines to kiss Tobi. Partially because he knows exactly who he really is, and the two have been “friends” for so long that a kiss would just be strange. The other reason is because he hasn’t eaten in two days, having just returned from a long-term mission about an hour ago. He’s so hungry that anything and everything looks delicious, and if he were to try and kiss “Tobi” right then — there’s no doubt that he would have eaten him. And Madara would surely skin him alive for that. So he simply nods at Tobi, and nobody questions why the two don’t exchange a kiss.

Pein

Mysterious and concealed. That’s how Pein (or rather Nagato) would describe “Tobi”; mysterious and concealed. Being around Tobi gives him a strange feeling deep in his sunken chest, that maybe, just maybe, Nagato isn’t the one running this show. That Tobi is actually someone he needs to watch out for. Still, though, it is unfitting to show one’s misgivings to one’s (possible) enemy. As far as Tobi knows, Pein just thinks of him like one of his “children”. Pein approaches him and kisses the cheek of his mask, not giving Tobi time to remove it. “Thank you, Leader-sama!” Pein nods and walks away, wondering whether he just imagined a hint of condensation in Tobi’s voice upon calling Pein “Leader”.

Konan

When Obito was growing up, like many of the kids in Konoha, he didnt’ have a household with a mother and father in it. He was raised by his grandmother who, although loving and kind, didn’t really provide Obito with the kind of matronly emotional support that he needed. When he came to the Akatsuki, Konan more or less filled that role for him. As she did with everyone else, she cooked for him, she washed his clothes, she cleaned up after him. She scolded him when she felt he did something reckless and foolish, and, most importantly, she cared about him. To have someone care about you in a reality where you sometimes don’t even care about yourself is an amazing feeling. Konan approaches him with a shy smile on her face, her tiny dimples showcasing the young girl she had once been. Aside from Rin, Konan is probably the warmest person Obito has ever met. He moves his mask, thinks about it, and gives Konan a gentle kiss on the tip of her chin, then another on her forehead. Then he pulls her into his arms, embracing her warmly. “Thank you, Konan,” he says, in a low, almost-Obito-like voice. “For what?” “For being Tobi’s friend.” Konan blushes and smiles; as she leaves she tells Tobi that when he’s done with his turn, to come and get some of the pie she’s made, to which Tobi happily agrees.

Hidan

Hidan is blushing pretty damn hard as he walks up to Tobi; after what happened when it was Hidan’s turn under the mistletoe, it’s understandable why. “Listen, you orange fuck — don’t pull any of that shit you did last time, alright?” Tobi tilts his head and studies him as if confused. “What do you mean, Hidan-san? Didn’t you like kissing Tobi?”, he asks, and then, his voice dropping into a somewhat playful whisper, “Tobi sure liked kissing YOU.” Hidan blushes even harder, and mutters a “Just do it already, weirdo.” Tobi removes his mask enough so that Hidan can see the flash of his teeth, smiling before tilting Hidan backwards ((and Hidan is surprised at how strong Tobi is)) and giving him a soft kiss on the lips. As it was last time, Hidan is visibly flustered. Tobi smiles even wider; in truth, Hidan is one of the few in the Akatsuki that Obito likes the least. He finds him to be emotion-driven and overly violent, and these things don’t make for a very good teammate. Still; there’s no denying that to be able to shut Hidan up, even for a few moments like now, is indescribably satisfying. Hidan is still standing there in a daze as Tobi slides his mask back into place, and Tobi can’t keep the glee out of his voice as he asks, “Aww Hidan-san; do you wanna marry Tobi now?” This snaps Hidan out of it, and his loud cursing and stomping off can be heard throughout the entire house.

Kakuzu

“Isn’t this ridiculous game over yet??” “No, Kakuzu-san! Don’t be shy; come get a kissy from Tobi!” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes; he’s never really been sure what to think of Tobi. He’s been on zero missions with him so he had absolutely no knowledge of his battle prowess or combat skills (but judging by the way Deidara complains about him, they can’t be all that good). Also, there’s the thing with him covering his face with that mask. Kakuzu isn’t really one to judge that; HE wears a mask as well. But with Tobi it’s not just a mask; it’s the long black clothing underneath the long Akatsuki robe. It’s the thick gloves. It’s the way not a single piece of skin save his toes ever sees the light of day. What’s he hiding? Kakuzu strongly suspects that Tobi might be one of the more elite ninjas listed in the Bingo Book, and if that’s the case, all Kakuzu has to do is wait for the right time to catch him off guard, capture him, and collect a (hopefully substantial) bounty for him. He approaches him and lets Tobi press his mask against Kakuzu’s mask in their version of a kiss. He resolves to study the Bingo Book in-depth tonight before bed; surely Tobi’s identify must be in there somewhere.

Deidara

The look on Deidara’s face is as he approaches Tobi is indecipherable, even to the one who has the sharingan. Fear, anxiety, excitement — and something else Obito just can’t read. And as for Obito himself — what exactly IS it that he feels for Deidara?? He’s nothing more than a pawn, right? A means to an end, as Madara would say. But ... there have been times. Times away from the various hideouts, out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but their packs and their thoughts, that Deidara has shown himself to be remarkably different from the Deidara that the others (except, likely, Sasori) sees. A quiet young man. A deep thinker. Sensitive and kind. And — “Oi, Tobi; can I ask you something?” “Yes, Senpai?” “When — when I was under the mistletoe ... did me and you kiss? Or did I really faint like you said?” A beat of quiet, and then, “Senpai always says that the past doesn’t matter, so why should it matter if we kissed or not?” Deidara chuckles and shakes his head. “You always choose to remember the most random things I tell you, hm. Damn you — I can never tell what goes on in your brain, Tobi.” “You wanna know what Tobi’s thinking right now? Tobi thinks that Senpai — Senpai is one of the most beautiful creatures Tobi has ever seen.” Deidara blushes fiercely at this, and tries to cover up his embarrassment by saying, gruffly , “Let’s just get this over with, Tobi, hm.” So Obito obliges him. He moves his mask to expose his mouth, sweeps Deidara’s long hair back, tilts him, cups his chin with his thumb and forefinger, and gently leans into him with his lips. Deidara resists at first, hesitant, but eventually he finds his arms circling Tobi’s broad shoulders, holding him tightly. He HAS to hold on because he’s terribly dizzy; he’s not quite sure what’s happening to him, but Deidara feels as though he’s falling down a very deep hole inside of his mind, and Tobi is the only thing keeping him anchored to reality. The kiss finally ends when (and only because) Sasori suddenly comes out of his room, yelling “Brat! I’ve been calling for you for ten minutes; you know I don’t like to be kept waiting!” Deidara steps away from Tobi, and he’s stumbling as though he’s a bit disorientated. “G-Goodnight, hm.” “G’nite Senpai! Sweet dreams!” Obito watches Deidara walk away, just barely conscious of the strange glance Sasori pitches in his direction when Deidara reaches his room.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #deidara #sasori #tobi #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #zetsu #kakuzu #hidan #kisame #pein #konan #naruto shippuden #headcanon

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sassyhobbits · 4 years

Note

Could we have an oln extra from elorcan pretty please *doggy eyes*

it would be my pleasure ;)

this takes place about a year before the ons epilogue!!!!!

elorcan ons oneshot pt1

~~~

Lorcan Salvaterre considered himself to be a level-headed man. He had immense patience and rarely let his emotions, positive or negative, get the better of him.

That’s why it was so surprising that anxiety had been roiling in his gut for the past week.

In the two years he had been living in Terrasen, so many things had changed.

Aelin had given him a job in security at the palace and he had recently been promoted to the head. His relationship with Elide had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. They had recently moved in together, Elide moving away from her native Perranth to work more closely with her family in the capital.

Lorcan never would have expected that the chore of traveling to Terrasen with Remelle would lead to so many wonderful things in his life.

He knew that he was in love with Elide. It was like nothing else he had ever felt in his life. He had never cared for anyone the same way he cared for her. It only meant one thing.

Which was why he was anxious.

Lorcan held no doubts about the fact that Elide loved him just as he loved her.

Yet the idea of proposing to her was utterly terrifying.

It hadn’t been a dramatic moment when he realized he wanted to marry her.

It had been a lazy morning in the apartment, and Elide had started on some eggs. Lorcan remembered leaning back on the kitchen island, admiring how she looked in his shirt, her dark hair glistening in the golden morning sun. And… he had just known. That he wanted to marry her. It hadn’t felt like a new idea, instead something he had discovered deep inside of him, as if it had always been there. Elide was it for him, that he knew.

But to propose to her, he would first need to get a fucking ring.

It was much more daunting a task than he would have expected.

Lorcan didn’t truly have an eye for finery, he never had, but he knew Elide deserved the very best.

Which was why he was calling for backup.

He made the call as he was driving towards the palace for work, dialing the number of someone he knew would be there. The other line rang for a few moments, and Lorcan wondered if he wouldn’t answer. But, there was finally a click and an irritable voice barking through the speaker.

“What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

Lorcan couldn’t stop himself from grinning at Rowan’s anger. There were only a few times when his friend would give in to his frustrations.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Lorcan asked coyly. Rowan had confided in him earlier that month that he and Aelin had finally decided to try for a baby. Which meant they were having a ridiculous amount of sex.

“You know you did, you ass,” Rowan grumbled. Lorcan heard a soft, feminine laugh from the background followed by the shifting of sheets. It seemed whatever had been happening was now over. “What do you want?”

Lorcan simply blurted it out. “I need to buy a ring for Elide so I can propose but I don’t know where to start.”

There were a few heartbeats of all-encompassing silence on the other end of the call. “Oh. Wow. That’s big news, Lor.”

“Yeah… but, are you busy today? Can you help?”

Rowan released a long sigh. Lorcan could practically envision him running a hand through his short, silver hair. “I would, but to be honest, I wouldn’t know what to do either. I didn’t even pick out Aelin’s engagement ring myself.”

Damn. Lorcan had forgotten about that. They were so damned in love with each other that it was easy to forget about the rocky start to their originally arranged marriage.

“But,” Rowan continued. “I know someone who could help, if you want to call in the big guns.”

“Yeah. Anything. I need to get this right. Elide deserves it.”

“Damn right. I’ll let her know.”

…

The big gun’s Chanel heels clicked noisily on the marble floor of the jewelry shop she had picked out. As princess, Aelin Galathynius held a lot of sway and managed to get them a private shopping appointment at the shop she insisted would have what he needed.

She had spent the morning and the entirety of the ride to the shop giving him a basic understanding of jewelry and what women wanted. He hadn’t even thought about how the band color should compliment skin tone or that there were better ways of cutting diamonds. Some women didn’t even want diamonds as the main stones. Aelin’s own was an emerald. It was far more complicated than he had hoped.

Lorcan had never really spent much time one-on-one with the princess, but he liked her well enough. Her attitude had grated him the wrong when they had first met, but it soon found out that she was actually a good person. Tough as nails, too. She would make a fearsome queen one day.

“I’m not going to pick the ring out for you,” Aelin said shortly, smoothing out her silk skirt. “Elide deserves better than that. But, I can point you in the right direction.”

“Whatever you say.”

The princess gave a curt nod and motioned towards a glimmering display, filled with stunning, beautiful rings. He watched as Aelin ran an expert eye over them.

“These are the best designers,” she explained. “The rings are beautiful and crafted perfectly. Quality. If you want to get Elide something nice, this is where you’d get it.”

Lorcan nodded slowly, looking back towards the countless rings. He felt his nerves build up again as he looked towards them, wondering how the hell he was supposed to know which one was the right one. He felt Aelin’s eyes skipping back and forth from the jewelry to him, and he had no doubt she had already decided which one Elide would like best. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank her or strangle her for not telling him which one it was.

Lorcan took a deep breath, trying to tame his pounding heart. He studied the rows slowly, attempting to find one that he knew would encapture the woman he loved. He was just beginning to think that it was hopeless, that he’d fuck it up no matter what, when his gaze finally caught on one.

It was made of a bright, gleaming silver that twisted gracefully, supporting an oval-shaped diamond. A few smaller diamonds embraced the middle one each side. It was simple, but elegant. Lorcan knew Elide wouldn’t want the ring with the largest diamond on it, wouldn’t want it to be too loud or ostentatious. But this… this was perfect. He could already practically see it perched on her finger.

“That one,” Lorcan said confidently, pointing towards the ring. “That one is perfect.”

He looked towards Aelin, finding her lips spreading in a slow smile. She gave a pleased nod. “That’s an excellent choice. Elide’ll love that one.”

It was in that moment that it fully settled on Lorcan that this was real, that this was happening. He was going to propose to the women he loved. And hopefully she would say yes.

“I’m happy for you, Lorcan,” Aelin said earnestly. “For some reason, your miserable ass makes Elide very happy, and I can see she does the same for you. I’m glad you found each other.” With that, her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “That being said if you hurt her, what I’d do to you would make what I did to Hamel and his men seem merciful. Understand?”

It was easy to forget that under that golden hair and pretty clothes, Aelin Galathynius was a certified bad-ass. One that even Lorcan didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Not that he would ever admit that to her aloud. It would make her already enormous ego that much bigger.

“Believe me when I say,” Lorcan began. “That I am going to do everything in my power to make Elide happy until the darkness claims us.”

Aelin seemed satisfied with that answer. “I do believe you. Now, let’s get that ring.”

…

Buying the ring was only half of the struggle. Now Lorcan had to figure out the best way to propose to Elide.

It was constantly on the back of his mind, no matter what he was doing. At work, in the shower, lounging around the apartment with Elide… it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Neither would Aelin fucking Galathynius. Every time she saw him in the halls, she would bother him with questions about it. Whether or not he had picked a time, or if he was ever going to pull his head out of his ass and ask her at all. It was annoying as hell. He wasn’t going around asking her every thirty minutes if Rowan had finally knocked her up. But… although she was mildly infuriating, it was somehow a pretty good motivator.

After a week and a half of the idea of the ring burning a hole through his mind, Lorcan finally decided it was time.

It was Lysandra’s birthday, and they had all gathered at the palace to celebrate with friends and family. It was a small, private affair, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. In fact, Lorcan preferred it over large parties any day.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, everyone wishing Lysandra a happy birthday. She was beaming the entire night with Aedion by her side. Their own wedding was only two weeks away.

Lorcan had struggled to pay attention to the others around him all evening. His attention had been pinned on Elide the entire time. She looked lovely tonight in a silky, violet top and high-waisted white trousers, dark hair falling down her back in a gleaming sheet.

If anyone noted his distraction during dinner, they didn’t say anything. By the time desert had been consumed and they had moved to the parlor for cocktailing, he was nearly jittery. Or as close to jittery as he would allow himself to become.

He had finished one drink before he decided it was time. He was done with playing around.

“Elide, love?” he murmured into her ear from where he was sitting next to her on the couch.

“Yes, Lor?” she asked, turning towards him. Her fair cheeks were flushed from either the wine or laughing with her friends, dark eyes practically sparkling with happiness. The sight made his heart swell.

“Will you come with me for a bit?”

Elide raised a dark brow in question but nodded, placing her glass on the low table before her. Most of the room was too lost in conversation to notice them slipping quietly away, but Aelin’s sharp eyes landed on him. She was tucked under Rowan’s arm, lips spreading in a slow, knowing smile. As soon as Elide’s back was turned, the princess mouthed, Good luck.

Lorcan refrained from scowling at her, slipping his hand into Elide’s and guiding her gently out of the parlor.

The halls were dark and quiet, the light of the full moon bathing the marble floors in a pale glow. It almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Lorcan wouldn’t have minded that one bit.

The ring box felt like a massive weight in his pocket as he held Elide’s hand tighter.

“What are you up to, Salvaterre?” Elide asked playfully, leaning into his side.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“A surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

Elide narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. She was too smart for her own good. It was one of the things he loved about her. Lorcan wouldn’t put it past her to figure out what he was about to do before he did it. He could only hope that the gods were on his side tonight.

Lorcan led Elide outside towards the gardens. They were a beautiful space, taken meticulous care of throughout the year, filled with trimmed bushes and aromatic flowers. The summer air was comfortably warm, filled with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. With the light of the stars above them and the privacy, it was a perfectly romantic spot.

Lorcan led Elide over to a low, white stone bench situated before a tinkling fountain. He urged her to sit, taking the spot beside her, refusing to release her hand. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the smooth skin of her knuckles.

Lorcan tried to will words to his mouth, but it seemed the nerves had finally taken hold, making it far more difficult than he was used to.

“Elide,” he finally managed to rasp out, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You mean the world to me. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my lifetime. You know that, right?”

Elide smiled softly and nodded, placing her palm on the side of her face and looking deeply into his eyes. “I know. And I love you just the same.”

He didn’t think ELide would ever understand just how much those words meant to him. He was undeserving of a woman like Elide, but he would try every day of his life to become worthy of her.

“Elide…” Lorcan breathed. “You’re the love of my life. I treasure every day, every moment, I get to spend with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… if you’ll have me.” With that, Lorcan slid from the bench to the ground, getting down on one knee on the soft grass. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket, prying it open and holding it out towards Elide, feeling as though he was holding his very heart out in his hands.

Elide gasped and slapped a hand over her chest, eyes wide.

“Elide Lochan…” Lorcan said lowly, watching her face as her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes began to glisten in the silvery moonlight. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The single second of silence that followed his question was excruciating. But, eventually Elide relieved his suffering by choking out a sob and nodding.

“Yes, Lorcan,” she gasped. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Lorcan released a breathy laugh, almost unable to believe that she had actually said yes. He recovered from his shock quickly, taking Elide’s hand within his own and slipping the ring on to her finger. He had been right, it did look perfect on her.

“It’s beautiful, Lorcan,” Elide whispered, looking at the diamond for one more moment before launching herself at him. Her arms wrapped around the back of her neck as her lips came crashing down upon his. Lorcan didn’t hesitate before sweeping her up in his arms and rising, kissing the woman he loved, his fiancé, deeply.

“I love you so much,” Elide murmured against his mouth, laughing and crying and kissing him.

“I love you too, Elide. So much.”

Lorcan’s heart had never been fuller.

…

They stayed in the quiet gardens for a bit longer, lounging in the peace and privacy they provided. Lorcan held Elide the entire time, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was and how excited he was to marry her.

But, eventually they decided to head back inside to their friends and break the news.

Elide wore a smile on her face the entire walk back. Lorcan had a matching one of his own.

As they reached the threshold, the low murmuring of voices faded away, all eyes on them. Neither he nor Elide said anything at first, only wearing those grins.

Eventually, Aelin sat up straighter, and demanded, “Well?!”

Lorcan looked down at Elide as she slowly raised her left hand higher, showing off her new ring. “We’re getting married!”

The room erupted into shouts of surprise and congratulations. Not all of them had known what Lorcan had planned to do. He figured the less people who had known the better, especially since Fenrys had a big, fat mouth.

Lorcan dealt with the attention the best he could, accepting a hug from Lysandra, clasping forearms with Aedion and Rowan, and shoving Fenrys away when he placed a smacking kiss upon his cheek.

Once the initial surprise had gone away, they all moved to sitting down once more. Aedion grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped it open to celebrate.

“Being engaged is all fun and games until it comes to the wedding planning,” Lysandra sighed dramatically. From across the room, Rowan gave a tiny grunt of agreement as Aedion nodded solemnly. “It’s so much work. You just want everything to go perfect. I’m still stressing about ours.”

“I’m sure everything will be great,” Elide assured her. “For both of us.”

“Yeah, and just think about it,” Aelin added, running her fingers through Rowan’s short hair. “No matter what happens at either of your weddings… it won’t be nearly as bad as our first one.”

A beat of silence.

Lorcan watched as Rowan looked up towards his wife disapprovingly. “That’s still not funny, Aelin.”

“It’s a little funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

Although Rowan didn’t take her up on that offer, the rest of them released tiny chuckles. It wasn’t much longer that they were back to rapid-fire conversation and rambunctious laughter. Rowan and Aelin as well as Aedion and Lysandra shared stories about the woes of wedding planning. Although it did seem daunting, Lorcan held no doubt in his heart that they would persevere.

He glanced back down at Elide, the woman that he loved, before brushing a kiss over the top of her hair. She leaned deeper into his side, snuggling close.

Every minute of work would be worth it to call Elide his wife.

#elorcan #one night standards #ons one shot #my writing #throne of glass

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likeholymary · 4 years

Text

— one with the force

the phantom menace ii: 4.6k words

AU: What if the Clone Wars never happened, but instead Darth Sidious cast aside the Rule of Two, forging a new way for the Sith and began amassing an army of Sith warriors to overthrow the Jedi and the Republic?

A/N: (not my gif) (excerpt below is from The Clone Wars: Wild Space by Karen Miller, slightly altered to fit the story). hello beautiful friends! the beautiful gif credit goes to @pixelahsoka. this chapter has a LOT of content so just keep that in mind! also, kind of cheesy ending but whatever, hehe. also, yes, to confirm, obi-wan and rhea are a force dyad. however, it will (hopefully) be better than the sequels, bc i felt like it just came out of nowhere. their romance will be a slow-burn to them actually accepting it, with them still being at least semi-romantical along the way, so look forward to that! this chapter is filled with a lot of fluff, and a very angsty ending. this is the last chapter set during the phantom menace, so the next chapter will be set during attack of the clones, where most of the AU aspect will begin to pick up! comment below or send me an ask if you would like to join the taglist and be notified about the upcoming chapters! again, i am so grateful that you are even reading this, and if you feel compelled to do so, please reblog this post so your mutuals can read it as well! i love you all:) masterlist

mentions: death, blood, fighting, MAJOR angst, force connection, sadness.

The Master and Apprentice began their departure from the Jedi Temple on their Naboo, and Obi-Wan did not think it wise.

Not after the Dathomirian man had appeared on that Maker-forsaken dustball with a red lightsaber, which only meant one thing – the Sith had returned.

He breathed in the pale glow of the planet’s moon, not taking time to look up and watch the stars glitter above, instead making short strides behind Qui-Gon, the shadow of the Naboo ship creeping its way across to cover them in more darkness, further darkening Obi-Wan’s mood and attitude towards the continuation of this ill-fated mission.

Having just left the council’s chambers, he felt immense frustration, not only at the council, but at his Master as well. Not only was he ready to face the Jedi Trials which the council seemed to be denying him the right to, now his Master was all too eager to take on the latest lifeform they had picked up on their Naboo adventures, a boy believed to be the Chosen One by his Master.

Not only was the boy too old, but Obi-Wan could sense it just as the council had – a great fear was buried deep within this Anakin Skywalker. A fear that was all consuming, and was growing slowly within him since they had left Tatooine and the boy’s mother behind.

Why could his master not sense it as he and the council did? Did he just assume ignorance for the possibilities to witness the forthcoming of a prophecy? He never understood his Master’s obsession with the old Jedi prophecies. It was an area of interest he sorely lacked, something that he felt put a strain on his relationship with Qui-Gon, something he realized that Qui-Gon probably wished Obi-Wan was intrigued by, but both of them knew that their Master-Apprentice relationship would never be like that of Dooku and Qui-Gon.

Rhea, however, had been Dooku’s apprentice and shared a similar, if not less, affinity for the supernatural and old ways of the Jedi. Perhaps he could pay her a visit once his mission was completed, or even send her a message over their datapads like they used to before they got increasingly more busy as padawans.

Surprise began to grow in him when he saw Rhea standing on the platform beside the ship. She had been waiting on him. As Qui-Gon began to speak to Anakin privately, Obi-Wan ran over to her with a small grin on his face. He should have known she would be here, for every time he simply thought of her, it seemed she was always nearby, as if she were watching over him.

“What are you doing here?” He beamed.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice the blush dusting her cheeks, even in the shadow of the ship.

“I couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, now could I?”

“You said goodbye to me before the council meeting.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, groaning in annoyance before she began to simper quietly, punching him in the shoulder. “Well, yes, but I couldn’t give you this in front of the council, now could I?” She held out her arms, opening them in anticipation for one of their rare hugs. When they were younglings, it was of course more sociably acceptable for them to embrace, however as the years began to pass and after many scoldings from each of their masters, they hid it away for special occasions or the few moments they would ever share alone, which were few and far between.

Obi-Wan buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the sort of meadowy scent she always seemed to carry, as if she were the greatest meadow within the galaxy, filled with thousands of flowers constantly doused by the warm air and golden sunshine, only to be damped by a cool spring rain. She was a wonder, in his eyes.

Rhea’s arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted his head so he could carefully place his chin on top of her head, ever so sweetly. She equally breathed him in, sighing as she inhaled the overwhelming musk of rain, leather and perhaps even some old oak and a few of his dusty books. He always did become overly invested in his new findings, nose deep in his studies, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two stood there for but a moment, taking every part of each other in as if it were the last time they would see each other, and to Rhea, she felt like it was.

“Promise.. promise you’ll come back?” Obi-Wan pulled away, simpering down at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

“When have I ever not?”

Rhea scowled for a second, her face quickly softening once more. “Just promise me, you idiot.”

“Fine, I promise you, dearest.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, breathing out a short laugh, before launching herself further into his arms, her fingers lacing through his shortly buzzed hair. Now for this, well, she wasn’t sure what Master Windu would have to say if he saw her like this, but she knew that it would be a deep scolding. It seemed so stupidly forbidden for her to just be lacing her fingers through his hair, but she paid no mind to the Jedi Code in the moment.

Rhea was his dearest, and he her Ben, and yet, the pain of the loss of her Master still fresh on her mind, reminded her why she could not become attached to this overly-complex relationship the two padawans shared.

It’s time to let go.

And yet, she couldn’t. And neither could he.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on the Queen’s ship while they flew through hyperspace back to Naboo. It seemed such a foolish idea to be returning to the invaded planet, but he did as he was told just as he always did, and followed the willful lead of his master. They were but a small force, two Jedi, a Queen and a handful of her people. What could they really do? If the Sith really had returned, could they really defeat them as well as an entire army?

The Queen had suggested they call upon the aid of the Gungans, but Obi-Wan questioned if that would work as well. The Gungans seemed to have a deeply seeded hatred for the people of Naboo, as it was obvious that in the past the former had treated the other like insolent fools. He wasn’t sure that he could disagree after spending so much time around Jar Jar Binks.

A light bit of laughter echoed in his mind, and it sounded like Rhea. He must have just imagined talking to her, Rhea giggling at his comments and avidly agreeing while coming up with her own quippy comment.

Obi-Wan could not help but miss the girl.

Alone in his small room aboard the ship, he tried closing his eyes so as to meditate, folding his hands together as he crossed his legs, breathe in, breathe out.

But she was still there.

Get out of my head.

He thought almost mockingly, knowing that she surely couldn’t be listening to his thoughts from such far a distance.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

Obi-Wan was shaken. There was absolutely no way-

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

Obi-Wan then snapped his eyes open, and there sitting in front of him was none other than his dearest, greatest life companion, Rhea Illyria, with a smile of a thousand stars.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea Illyria sat on her bed in her quarters inside the Jedi Temple, breathing in, breathing out, as she performed her daily morning meditation. She knew many other padawans and younglings who hated the act of meditation, but she found it rather peaceful, a time to focus on the energy of the Force, to feel it moving around her and all other life forms.

She, however, became momentarily distracted by the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his departure back to Naboo. She sighed, wishing she could have gone with him. There was something in the Force, something that felt like a warning about the planet of Naboo, and those who invaded. No, not the invaders... The ones controlling the invaders, pulling the strings. Who were they? The Sith? Or was it something... something much greater and evil in all forms and aspects?

Rhea worried for Obi-Wan and his mission, and she couldn’t help the thoughts consuming her not only of the danger of his mission, but of the padawan and their untold and unseen embrace.

However, there was a nagging feeling in her gut. The Force pulling her towards something... No, someone.

She could just reach out, and suddenly her eyes were meet with the galaxy, planets dancing by as the stars glimmered all around her. She was walking among them, slowly, as if moving through the tides of the deepest oceans.

Breathe in, breathe out. What is the Force pushing you towards?

Rhea could see something ahead, a silver shape slowly getting closer as she continued to wade her way through stars and the black dusts of the galaxy.

Someone was thinking intensely. Someone was annoyed.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the notion of the Gungans being quite unintelligent creatures, or at least Jar Jar Binks, the creature someone was thinking about.

The closer Rhea got to the shape, she noticed it took the form of the ship from Naboo, the ship that carried its queen, the ship that carried him.

Someone was Obi-Wan.

This had to be some dream, she thought. She must have drifted into some sleep while she was meditating. But at the same moment she drifted through space, she breathed in, and could feel the sheets of her bed curl around her fingers, sense the starflower in the corner of her window, could smell the caf she so desperately needed each day after her meditations.

Despite trying to refocus on her true surroundings, Rhea became lost in the stars once more when something pushed back against her.

Get out of my head.

Rhea huffed, and began to more faster, willing the stars around her to move, to allow her closer access to the ship. She continued to wade and move through slowly, yet determined.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

She could feel his confusion, and despite her own, she couldn’t help but find some joy in this strange place. How she was able to drift through the stars to the other padawan was certainly not a normal occurrence among the Jedi, nor within the Force.

He couldn’t believe she was there either. He was thinking about her, thinking about how he missed her, which tugged at something within her she had never noticed before.

Her fingers finally grace the cool metal of the ship, however, they moved through its surface, and she was able to pass through, allowing the Force to guide her to her dear friend.

At the same time, he became frustrated by her presence distracting him from his own meditation.

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

She was no longer floating within the ship, and instead now found herself grounded, sitting cross legged across Obi-Wan.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

“Ho-how are you even here? I must be dreaming, there is no way that this could possibly be real. I mean, have you ever read about Jedi being able to communicate with each other over vast distances such as this? This is simply impossible!” Obi-Wan rambled, tugging at his chin, brow furrowed as his mouth gaped slightly at the sight of Rhea.

She however, rolled her eyes, unamused this time by his consistent desire for the knowledge of just about everything. This had to be under the category he loved the least, and she treasured the most – the supernatural ongoings of the Force.

“Ben!” She finally shouted, smacking him on his forehead to get his attention.

This brought Obi-Wan to attention, but also caused both padawans to touch their forehead and hand respectively.

“How did you do that!” “How did I do that?”

Rhea and Obi-Wan were, to say the least, perplexed and befuddled by the situation before them. Obi-Wan, deciding the best course of action was to hypothesize how this anomaly could have occurred in the Force, decided they should each ask one another questions regarding just how this had happened.

“What were you doing when this,” he motioned between them, “happened?” Rhea bit her bottom lip, furrowing her brow just as he had. “I was meditating. It’s morning back at the Temple, so I was doing my morning meditations...” Obi-Wan’s hand remained on his chin, his forefinger rubbing incessantly across his upper lip.

“As was I. Continue, please,” he spoke so softly, she almost wondered if he was trying to be quiet so no one would hear them and come looking.

“Well, my meditations were interrupted by thoughts of you.” Obi-Wan paused his menstruations, his eyes darting to meet hers.

“You were thinking about me?”

“Well, yes–” “Why?” She grew flustered, a growing pain pounding in her chest, sharp and yet harsh. Her hands began to sweat as she started to wring them out like some old tunic on washing day, her eyes swooping to avoid his ever piercing-blue gaze.

“I don’t know, why were you thinking about me!” She retorted.

It was one of the few times Obi-Wan got speechless and she could not help but gleam with pride at catching his tongue. She knew this trait would probably die with age, the older her got the further he became closer to the title of a silver tongued master, however she knew she would look back on this moment and know she had trumped him at his own game.

“I–” However, he never got a singular thought out, as Qui-Gon began to shout Obi-Wan’s name like he were some incessant father trying to find his son after a long game of hide-and-go-seek.

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath, a moment of panic coursing through him, but when he looked back from the door to Rhea, she was gone, and he once again was alone, feeling a strange and overwhelming sense of sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea tried to continue her day as usual, but her gut instinct inside of her told her that there was something more to her apparent Force projection than it just being that. No... she knew there was something more to this event that had just occurred in not only her life, but Obi-Wan’s. Everything felt like it was going to change.

Unfocused in her training with Mace Windu, he scolded her throughout the day, noting her lack of focus and charging her with consistent complaints about her lack of balance.

How could she feel balanced? How was she supposed to feel balance after she lacked control over her own capabilities through the Force? How could she feel balance when it had alluded her since the day her Master abandoned her for a life without her as his apprentice?

How could she feel balance without anyone there to guide her? “The Force, guide you, it will.”

Rhea nearly ran over Master Yoda who now stood in the Temple’s halls in front of her, smiling just as knowingly as he had every day she could remember.

“Master Yoda, I didn’t see you there.” “Loud your thoughts are. Many things on your mind, are there not?”

Rhea could not help but feel guilty and caught. Surely though, Master Yoda could be the one to help her. She had so many questions weighing her down, aching to be asked, and yet she felt ashamed to even think them to herself. Now, it seemed that there were those who were listening.

“Master, I just feel so lost.”

Yoda hummed, chuckling to himself as if he held all the secrets of the world to himself and would just become amused by the ongoings of the beings around him.

“Come with me, you will.” Yoda motioned for her to follow him, as he guided her toward the meditation room. He sat down on a small chair meant for younglings, and she sat adjacent from him, not really knowing if a meditation session was going to help. After all, it’s what got her into this conundrum.

“Close you eyes. Focus not on your surroundings, but the Force.”

Rhea breathed in, breathed out, closing her eyes as she began to let go of her surroundings, allowing them to fade away.

“See what is in the Force that troubles you, and tell me what it is.”

She wasn’t sure if she should reach out again. What if she connected with another Jedi like she had with Obi-Wan? But surely, that would not happen. She had been thinking of him, just as she was now.

Images then began to flow through her mind. A beautiful green planet under siege by the droid armies of the Separatists, a cloaked man with a red lightsaber watching over her as she slept, Dooku the day he left her without even looking behind, her connection with Obi-Wan earlier that morning, him falling...

“I see the droid armies invading Naboo.. A Sith watching over me. Dooku leaving the Jedi Order.... and..”

“More there is?”

“Yes..” Rhea whispered, but she couldn’t focus on the grainy voice of Yoda. She kept reaching out, as if pulling the Force towards her like a rope, trying to yank it so it would release all of its secrets it was holding from her.

And into the Force she fell.

Everything around her was blurry, she couldn’t focus on anything except the strength of the Dark Side coursing before her. It was Obi-Wan. And he had given into all of his anger and hatred, an overwhelming tsunami of darkness coating every inch of him and not it began to creep upon her, splashing her with the emotions flowing out of him.

No, he cannot give into this. She thought, watching as he fell into the pool of darkness waiting to swallow him whole.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

His master was dead.

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon crumpled to the floor, and he screamed in agony as he was trapped behind the laser shield, hopelessly witnessing the death of his Master. And he could not help the growing rage and hatred that began to engulf his entire being, becoming greater with each second as he practically jumped, ready for the laser shield to move so he could slaughter this hunter before him, this Sith, this darkness.

His face twitched, his mouth curling downward into a snarl, complete loathe shining in his eyes which now darkened as he turned his gaze upon the Dathomirian.

The Sith trailed before him like some wild beast waiting for its prey, stalking like some dark creature.

A moment before the laser shields even began to move once again, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, seconds before a red bladed lightsaber was ignited as well. The shields moved, and Obi-Wan raised his saber, going to strike the beast of red and darkness down, going to strike for the kill out of the rage and hatred in his heart.

The darkness was consuming him, but Obi-Wan did not care. How could he care now? His master was dead, and this creature seemed a powerful foe within the Force, something that should be put down for the sake of the Republic and the safety of its citizens.... something that should pay for its crimes against the Jedi, it’s crimes against him.

He blocked every twist and twirl it made with its lightsaber, blocking its attacks by pushing back against it with more fervent and less coordinated attacks. If he could only strike it down...

Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber, slashing through the center of its double-bladed saber, cutting the pieces in half as one went out. He flipped over the creature, slashing at his center and sorrowfully missing him by an inch.

This creature was quick, but he had to be quicker, he had to be. What would his Master say if he failed him? What would Rhea say if he were to fall, just as Qui-Gon had moments ago? He would not dare break a promise to her.

The creature kicked him in the face, but he did not let it affect him, instead holding out his lightsaber in front of him, looking for the best place to strike him down. As their blades locked, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he pushed against the creature, his eyes glaring deeply into those sickly-yellow ones, now pushing down against his blade. Anger filled him, and rage too, however, the Sith lifted its hand, using the Force and propelling him across the room, and into the shaft. Obi-Wan grabbed ahold of a light as he began to fall, holding on for dear life as the Sith once again began to trail above him, stalking like a creature in the night. He watched helplessly as it kicked his lightsaber down into the shaft, the weapon, his life, now falling down just as hopelessly as he felt.

Obi-Wan had to keep on holding on. He had to get back up there, he had to avenge his Master’s death.

No.

As the Sith caused sparks to rain down from above onto him, attempting to get him to lose grip and fall, Obi-Wan could hear her speaking to him.

Do not give into the darkness. Do not give into the anger or hate. Rise above.

A second voice this time came.

Trust only in the Force.

Qui-Gon.

Rise above.

And for a moment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Rhea was there, almost floating before him, but he couldn’t see anything around her, only she was in his mind.

I will stand together with you. Rise above.

“It occurred to Obi-Wan then, with a clarity that was startling, given the dark side hurricane howling through him, that Yoda was wrong about the dangers of attachment. Or at least that he wasn’t altogether right. It was true that attachment could weaken a Jedi’s resolve. But it could also strengthen it … as he was strengthened now by his love for Qui-Gon, and Rhea. Without them he would have failed long before this moment. And so, leaning on them, he continued to fight.”

And so, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, using the Force to propel him upwards as he jumped, landing behind the Sith and now focusing his energy, not through the Dark Side, but now back through the Force, allowing it to guide him now. Qui-Gon’s fallen lightsaber now flew into his hand as he landed, and with a swift movement of his wrist, Obi-Wan cut through the Dathomirian man, ending the terrors he had caused, as he fell down the shaft, thus causing yet another fall in the rise of the Sith.

For a moment he stood and just breathed, thanking the Force for his strength found in his love for his Master and friend.

Obi-Wan, sensing his Master’s lifeforce still flickering within him, ran to his side, cradling his head as gently as he could, holding onto some form of hope that his Master could still live.

“It’s... it’s too late.”

“No, no!”

“Obi-Wan..” Qui-Gon croaked, as best he could, the color draining from his face slowly, marking him with death as his lifeforce continued to flicker, dimming with each passing second. “Promise... promise me you will train the boy.”

“Yes, master..” Obi-Wan wept in response. Qui-Gon raise his hand to wipe his tears, and Obi-Wan rested his cheek lightly against his finger, wishing that this wasn’t the end.

“He is... the Chosen One. He will bring balance. Train him. Help him. You and Rhea must help him....”

Obi-Wan now momentarily forgot his grief, filled with confusion at the mention of his friend.

“Rhea and I? Master, what do you–”

“There is more to the prophecy than what you know..”

“What, Master, I–”

Qui-Gon hushed him, before uttering his final words. “Train him.” He uttered his final breath, and Obi-Wan, cradling him, felt as if he were destined for some infinite sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea supposed Naboo was a truly beautiful planet, one to behold amongst the galaxy, but it seemed so bleak and somber now with the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

She watched the pyre his body laid upon gather with flames that rose to meet the stars in the sky, the smoke dancing among the small lights glittering above.

Standing beside the young boy from Tatooine who introduced himself as Anakin Skywalker, she listened silently to the loss of sound in the Force that was Qui-Gon’s lifeforce. They all felt it, the small darkness that passed over them at the loss of such a wise Jedi.

Obi-Wan stood on the other side of Anakin, who looking up to him, asked, “What will happen to me now?”

“The council has granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise.”

Rhea still could not believe that Obi-Wan had not only become a Jedi Knight, but had also defeated and killed a Sith lord. How they had come to rise again, was still a mystery, but it caused a shroud of confusion and chaos to flow through the Force.

It was hard for Rhea to muddle through, her mind now more clouded and confused than ever, the events having transpired seeming to all be connected — Dooku leaving the Order, the Chosen One supposedly being found, the Sith returning, her bond with Obi-Wan...

It all seemed too obvious in her mind to not be connected, but Mace Windu continued to tell her to be mindful of her thoughts, even if he didn’t know of her bond with Obi-Wan, he still saw her point of view as a quick jump to conclusions.

As the procession ended and people began to filter out from the area of the funeral pyre, she stayed even as little Anakin left along with the other Jedi, staying by Obi-Wan’s side, just as she had promised.

“You’re still here.”

He said, nonchalantly, not even bothering to turn to face her.

Rhea looked up, turning her gaze to fixate on his face. He looked... tired, almost old, held down not only by exhaustion but by the overwhelming sense of loss and sadness which was now being carried by the duty he felt to honor his masters final wish.

“Just as I said I would always be. Right by your side.”

He sighed, turning to look down upon her, his blue eyes meeting with her darker ones.

“So, you really were there, speaking to me.”

“I suppose I was.”

The two were silent for a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes as if understanding everything they wished to say. Rhea reached up, cupping his cheek softly as tears began to fall down his face.

She then got up on her tippy toes, being much shorter than him, and placed a slow kiss on his forehead, soft and lovingly and holding every hope she had within her.

Obi-Wan sighed softly, “We can’t tell anyone about this bond. Not until I have figured out what exactly it is.”

“We.”

“What?”

“Not until we have figured out what exactly it is. We’re in this together. I told you this already, but you don’t seem to be getting it through your thick skull. I stand by you. Always.”

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Unspoken: Chapter One - Oikawa Tooru x f!reader

Oikawa has been in love with you since you became a manager for the university’s volleyball team, but keeps it to himself in fear of what his fan club might do to you if they found out

genre(s): college!au, mutual pining (mostly Oikawa), friends to lovers, angst, eventual smut words: 3k+

a/n: don’t worry folks, i just got carried away with this fic and felt it would be better to split it up. chapter 2 is complete and will be up tomorrow 💖 with a bonus smut ending if you are a heathen like me. enjoy ~ J ✨ i am also sorry i made the fan club so bitchy

taglist: @takingyouruwus @kurosarium @apollochjld @afterglowkuroo (lmk if you’d like to be added to my general or a specific taglist!)

Chapter 2

The Oikawa fan club is definitely not a fan of you, and you certainly aren’t of them. Not because you have a crush on him too but because they’re obnoxious and take the best seats at volleyball games. It also doesn’t help that they outright despise you. They don’t even try to hide it. Snickering in the hallways at school or passing quick remarks whispered amongst them at games. You really aren’t a fan of that. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care—you chant to yourself to keep your tongue locked behind your teeth. It isn’t worth your time or the effort.

Not until you hear one of them hiss today at the game, “What is she even doing up here? I thought she’s the manager,” a scoff. “Guess the team likes Miko better.”

Your fists ball instinctively. You can’t sit down there, as much as you’d like to. If they knew anything deeper about volleyball beyond Oikawa’s killer serve and being obsessed with his ‘pretty hair’ they’d know that you might be a manager but there is a senior manager who outranks you and only one is allowed on the bench down on the court.

Though you have to admit, sitting up here in the bleachers with the Oikawa ogling brigade in front of you—the manager—fawning over his every move is degrading. You don’t necessarily have to sit directly behind them, but god dammit you want to see the game too and are willing to grin and bear it for the sake of the team. You can’t sit in the normal cheering section crowded with students either since you arrive late and would have to sit at the back of the stands. So, this is the better of two options, even if today the fan club is being particularly petty.

“Or maybe she’s just a wannabe,” another snickers, loud enough that you know she is intending you to hear it.

That pushes you over the edge, making you abruptly stand up. You’re wearing a university volleyball club jacket for fucks sake! Are they really so shallow as to start slinging rumors like that around? They jolt at your sudden movement, glaring back at you, clearly with no intention of apologizing. They so obviously just want you to leave.

You want to watch the game, support the boys you watch work so hard and work hard for yourself, but you don’t want to be around for this bullshit. You know shouldn’t care, but you do, and it fucking ruins the game for you.

Instead of giving them some mean remark like you’re itching to throw at them, you just turn on a heel and go. You stride up the steps and towards the exit right as you hear the crowd gear up for Oikawa’s serve. You stop once you reach the doorway, fists clenched and trembling with anger, furious at yourself for letting them get under your skin. Exactly like they wanted to. You should have stayed as a silent ‘fuck you’ to them, but you can’t stomach going back either. Not like they even care anyways, probably too wrapped up in Oikawa’s serve. Now a sigh escapes you; forcing your hands to unfurl and stretch the ache that formed from how tightly you had them clenched.

You need to take a breath and move on. You have nothing to prove to them, all the matters is that you know where you stand. It also makes you feel better that the team actually knows you, they can pretend it isn’t true all they want but that doesn’t change that you get to spend time with the team, and inevitably, Oikawa. A fact they loathe.

You end up lingering in the hallway near the entrance to the gym, waiting for the game to finish. Usually you can be a part of the between game meetings if you want to, sometimes you can’t get down there fast enough but sitting here in the hallway, you’ll make it today. While you wait, you slide down the wall to sit, leaning against it and pulling your legs close to rest your chin on.

You like to think that you have tough skin and their words can’t hurt you, but they do. And while you may not put the same about of blood, sweat, and tears the boys do into the sport—you put in your fair share for them, and it’s hard to be met with scoffs and sideways glances purely because of jealousy. You’re appreciated enough by those who matter, so why are you so bothered by the fan club? Shaking your head at the fleeting thought that it has anything to do with Oikawa, you convince yourself it’s just annoyance that you can’t enjoy games like you’d like to.

Interrupting your thoughts, the whistle blows to signal the end of the game and you perk your head up. You’re grateful for the distraction, not really wanting to delve deeper into your thoughts about Oikawa, and peek into the gym. Miko notices your head in the doorway and waves you in to join the huddle.

Ha, take that fan club. Wannabe my ass.

Miko’s movement catches Oikawa’s attention. He looks to where her attention is drawn and watches you beam before throwing the door wide and joining the huddle by Miko’s side. He wonders what you were doing waiting by the door, normally you wait until the last possible moment before bolting from your seat in the bleachers to join the huddle. You never want to miss a single second of the game, which he finds rather endearing. And he can’t remember the last time you skipped out on a game early.

He stares at you, trying to get your attention, but you’re fixated on the coach, no doubt trying to soak up as much information as possible. It makes his mouth curve ever so slightly at how eagerly you listen during these huddles. When you do briefly slide your gaze over to him, he gives you a questioning look to which you just shake your head at and point discretely at the coach.

Ah. Your way of saying, ‘shut up and listen’.

He supposes he likes that about you. Your bluntness.

So, with an eyeroll, he fixes his eyes on the coach, fully intending on pestering you later about it. He tries to grab you before the next game, but you hurry away as soon as the whistle is blown, and his fingers grasp empty air.

The team wins the next set, winning the match without going to the 3rd set. As customary, he lines up with the team to thank the spectators and Oikawa gets the chance to pick you out in the crowd. He spots you off to the side, and he’s noted since meeting you that you don’t sit with the cheering crowd, but rather on your own. It’s never too hard to find you, your face split in two by a smile as you clap for them. It’s then that he notices who is sitting directly in front of you.

He fights the urge to frown. He likes to think he’s a polite guy, having always given attention to his so called ‘fan club’. He got used to it in high school, the constant barrage of placating a group of fans, but had been secretly looking forward to hopefully leaving it behind. Only to have a new one re-emerge within the first few months of school. The other guys on the team weren’t too keen about him for a while after that. It took him forever to convince them to tolerate him again.

And he hates that they give you trouble. Ever since they discovered you interact with him outside of school, it seems they deemed you an enemy. He tries to stay away from you during regular school hours, keeping it limited to volleyball only, but lately the two have started bleeding together. He simply can’t help himself, however selfish that may be. Gathering his things, he wonders if they’re the cause for your weird behavior earlier.

He glances at you helping Miko put away the chairs, a tight feeling constricting his chest. God—if he ever told you how he actually feels about you, what would his fan club do then? How miserable would they make you? But damn him to hell, he’s selfish, and it doesn’t stop him from striding over to you cooing your name.

Without hesitation you reply, “Oikawa-san~,” in the same sing-song voice he uses for you. You don’t even bother to look over your shoulder at him, continuing your task.

“What was with the little peeping tom imitation earlier?”

You’re glad to be facing away from him, your skin prickling with the thought of having to explain to him that his fan club was pissing you off. Surely earning yourself a more prying follow-up question that you definitely do not want to answer. So instead you shrug, brushing off his question, “You guys were so far ahead, and I was sure your serves would end it, so I figured I’d actually be a part of the entire huddle.”

He squints, finding that to be rather out of character for you. “You missed my serves though!” He pouts, deciding it’s better for him to let you off the hook than continue to pry. He doesn’t think you’d tell him anyways, no matter how much he pesters you.

“Oh, big baby. I missed what? Two?”

“What if they were my best yet!” He protests, leaning around you so you can see his impressive pout. It delights him that he elicits a smile from you, peering at him from the corner of your eye, clearly finding his antics amusing. “Guess you’ll have to help me with serving practice to make up for it.”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he hates to admit he watches very closely as you answer, “Fine.” Though, truthfully, he’s not really pulling your leg too much. You like helping him practice.

He can’t help how his mouth turns downward into a frown as another member of the team, a bold freshman, butts into the conversation. “Need any help?”

Though he does find immense delight at the way your face falls to a neutral expression, giving him a curt, “I’m alright, thank you.” You don’t even turn to him, instead tilting your head to look at Oikawa continuing, “Oikawa-san is more than enough help here. Why don’t you see if they need help putting away the net?”

The freshman slinks away and Oikawa has to physically restrain himself from doing a victory lap as you shove a chair into his hands grumbling to yourself. The muttering continues as you move to put away more chairs, loud enough that he catches you say, “Is he ever going to get the hint?”

“What?”

You almost drop the chair you’re holding, turning wide-eyed at Oikawa, not realizing you’d been talking out loud to yourself. “It’s nothing.”

He frowns. “Is he bothering you?”

God he’s talking so loudly, making you nervous that the underclassman might hear him. “Can you talk any louder?” You hiss. Oikawa’s expression doesn’t change, however, and you groan really not wanting to get into this right now. “He’s been at it for a couple weeks now,” you say, trying to play off the situation as best you can. You’ve never had someone as persistent in pursuing you as he is, or someone as oblivious to your subtle rejections either.

You vaguely wonder if this is how Oikawa feels all the time with his fan club.

“Wanna pretend to date for a while?” He suggests harmlessly in your opinion, but very selfishly in his. And while he knows he isn’t joking in the slightest—you certainly think he is and bark out a laugh at the idea of fake dating him to get the underclassman off your back. “What?” He pouts. “Is it so crazy of an idea?”

You’re laughing even harder now, enough that people are beginning to look your way, so you swallow you remaining laughter and wipe your eyes dramatically. “It just don’t want to be murdered in the dead of night by your fan club, that’s all.”

You go back to collapsing chairs and don’t notice Oikawa stiffen. He doesn’t like being reminded that his fan club will literally rip apart any girl he is even remotely interested in. And he isn’t just interested in you. He likes you. A lot.

Clearly not thinking anything of this conversation, you say over your shoulder, “What are all those muscles for if you’re not going to carry more chairs than me?” He blinks back to reality and makes a show of picking up way more chairs than you and putting them away faster too. That only earns him a scowl in response, but he knows it’s only for show.

“Oh, pleeeeeease?” Oikawa almost gets on his knees begging you. Practice is done but he wants to stay late and hammer in more serves before the night is over. And sue him if he thinks it’s way more enjoyable if you stay to help him. “You promised last week!” You groan, scrunching your eyes tight, not wanting to look at his stupidly adorable pouting face that usually breaks you. It doesn’t help that you can feel he is standing very close to you. “You’re going to have to open your eyes sometime.”

“Nope, I’ll walk all the way home like this.”

He pleads your name again. “You’re going to miss the rare sight of Oikawa Tooru on his knees for you!”

You don’t budge. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious!” Now he really does get on his knees, dramatically putting his hands together to beg you. “This is a once in a lifetime chance!”

He keeps it to himself that you could definitely get him on his knees for many different reasons.

He’s sure that he’s broken you when you groan loudly and peek an eye open at him. Upon seeing that he is being serious, both of your eyes widen, and you have the audacity to start giggling at him. “I should take a picture.”

That makes him scramble to his feet, sticking his tongue out at you. “You better not.” It just makes you grin and his heart soars at the sight. He can’t help that your smile makes his stomach do somersaults. He takes you by the arm and drags you further into the gym before jogging over to the other side of the court and grabbing a ball from the cart.

He loves that he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. You’re already digging through your bag to find objects to place around the opposite side of the net for him to aim for. He notices that you’ve placed some of them very meanly—some sitting just barely on the outside line, others in spots that he has a record of having trouble hitting. And while it makes his chest swell with pride you even notice his performance, the scowl across his face betrays his annoyance that you aren’t making this easy.

If you’re going to help him—he’s going to have to work for it.

And hell, if that doesn’t drive him wild.

“Those good?” You ask, stepping off to the side, a smug smirk splayed across your lips.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

He levels a look at you that you return with a sickeningly sweet yet utterly terrifying smile. “You’re going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid.”

Your smile transforms into something that makes his stupid fucking shorts tighten, holding his gaze steadily as you challenge, “We’ll see.” Then you tear your eyes from his and he feels like you’ve ripped his chest out with it and like he can barely get enough air into his lungs. He knows the challenge is to drive him to do better, to perform the best of his ability, but damn—he’ll give 110% for the rest of his life if you ask him to.

You will never admit how much you love watching Oikawa play volleyball. Watching him shift from his teasing, easy-going smile, to this intensely serious and calculating gaze that while foreign to you—is also so strangely familiar. You feel lucky to be able to watch him up close, someone who has honed their craft, yet is ever looking to be better. When it comes down to it, you truly admire Oikawa and want to be there to watch him grow and see where he goes. Because to you, the sky’s the limit for him.

Where the hell are those thoughts coming from?

The sound of a volleyball slamming onto the court, sending the notebook you placed on the line skittering across the floor, startles you. “Hey! Pay attention!” Oikawa scolds. You quickly apologize, knowing full well how much a stray volleyball can hurt. “And make sure you’re watching! I’m going to hit every single one of those first try.”

You nod, a bit blankly, still reeling from the thoughts tumbling through your head. He tosses another ball up, his powerful thighs straining as he thrusts his body upwards, hand meeting the ball at the perfect point—the sound of his hand cracking against it almost as loud as the sound that reverberates around the gym when it connects with the floor. It all happens in the blink of an eye, but you feel like you’re watching it in slow motion until his feet touch the floor and you’re jolted back to reality.

God, what the fuck is going on with you tonight?

Oikawa isn’t blind. He knows you’re watching him. And it sends such a thrill down his spine he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides channel as his energy into his serves. Otherwise he’s going to do something very stupid tonight.

You’re uncannily quiet for the remainder of the night. Just watching him serve over and over again, and when he’s finished, helping him pick up the balls and set up the targets so he can start again. He is desperate to know what’s going through your head, but he lets you stew, just as interested in what conclusion you might be coming to on your own.

It’s not his fault that his imagination runs absolutely fucking wild that night. He can’t sleep, theorizing what changed today—if anything did. What were you thinking about as you watched him so intently? What flipped the switch? Are you thinking about him right now, lying awake in bed like he is? It torments him even in his dreams.

He does keep you awake that night. You can’t get the image of him out of your head. His voice either. It’s infuriating. You try to convince yourself he’s just a friend. That all those late nights in the gym, all the times he’s walked you home, all the bus rides you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, are harmless. He hasn’t wormed his way into your heart, he hasn’t made you fall in love with him slowly and quietly and its only now hitting you like a tidal wave—has he?

Fuck. Has he?

You’re grateful your roommates’ room is down the hall, giving you the freedom to scream into your pillow.

Are you a fucking Oikawa fan girl now?

You don’t know the difference between you and them is that he’s been in love with you a lot longer than you can even imagine.

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #oikawa tooru

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