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beca-mitchell · 3 years ago

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little taste of heaven (i'm caught up in you) (1/1)

Summary: now i see daylight AU - Beca and Chloe’s first date, finally.

Word count: 3.9k

For @anna-kendrick: We've worked on this universe for the past year and holy, it means the world to both of us that you guys love Beca and Chloe as much as we do. Thank you so much for the encouragement and love, always.And of course, again, thank you to Josi who is an incredibly talented artist. Look at this art.

title from "untouchable (taylor's version)" though I did heavily consider using "our song"...i just liked the energy of untouchable a bit more.

Read below or on AO3!

* * * * *

AGE: 15/16 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: June

* * * * *

It is finally June. The warm air is only a hint of better things to come. Like the last day of school before total freedom.

Beca smiles at Chloe as she nears Beca’s locker. “Hey,” she greets. “Good practice?”

Around them, students mill about excitedly, cleaning out their lockers and making plans for the summer to come. Chloe shrugs, hair clearly still damp from her shower. “I don’t know why we keep running through practices when we have no more games for the season.”

“Got to keep the regional champions in top shape,” Beca teases. “Keep the other teams on their toes.”

“But I’m tired,” Chloe complains. She leans heavily on a neighboring locker. “Since it's the last day of school, will you come over tonight for dinner? My parents are whining about how they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Beca clears her throat, thinking about how the last time she had gone over to Chloe’s house had been when Chloe and Tom broke up...at the end of April. Over a month ago. She had gone because Chloe had been crying and upset. She had gone because even if her body ached with the anxiety of not knowing where she and Chloe stood, she and Chloe were always going to be friends first. Best friends.

Best friends who felt something more than friendship for each other. Confirmed, real feelings. Feelings that made them want to kiss each other.

Feelings that they hadn’t yet talked about. Or acted on despite both of them being extremely single at the moment.

Hell, Chloe's birthday came and went a couple weeks ago without much fanfare. Beca had been too shy to do anything remotely romantic and they ended up going to a movie with a few friends before going to an arcade.

“Bec?”

Beca nods stiltedly, pretending to contemplate her now-empty locker a bit more before turning to face Chloe. She steadies herself with a quick breath. “I’d love nothing more.”

* * * * *

Beca stares at her reflection with some trepidation.

“It’s just Chloe,” she mutters to herself, eyes tracking over every crease in the skirt she has picked out. Maybe I should go with jeans, she thinks. But it’s gross and hot out today.

She isn’t even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like a return to normalcy of sorts, but Beca’s pretty sure that now that she knows what it feels like to kiss Chloe and what it feels like, a little bit at least, to know that Chloe feels somewhat similarly to her. It’s different. In a good way. Maybe it’s different in a scary way.

She isn’t even sure she can bring up the topic with her mother, so that’s an added layer of uncertainty: it’s additionally anxiety-inducing not knowing how her mother will react.

It’s well past the time that Beca should have already walked out the door to head next door by the time she actually forces herself out of her bedroom and down the stairs, but she figures Chloe will understand. And dinner is rarely ever prepared at the exact time stated in the Beale household anyway. Beca’s not too worried. Just nervous.

She finally reaches out to press the doorbell.

Chloe opens the door almost immediately. “Thought you got lost,” she teases.

“Were you just waiting behind the door?” Beca asks quickly, allowing Chloe to grab her wrist and pull her over the threshold.

“And if I was?” Chloe shoots back, offering Beca a lazy smile, playful in nature. With an underlying hint of something else.

Beca blinks the surprise away. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were waiting for me. Just sorry I kept you waiting,” she offers.

“Dinner’s not ready anyway,” Chloe says, as Beca expected. They breeze past the living room area, taking a mild detour past the kitchen and towards the back porch. “I might have told you a slightly earlier time because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Chloe says lightly.

“Should I say hi to your parents?” Beca asks worriedly before it registers what Chloe just said. “Wait, what? Talk to me about what?”

“Come sit with me,” Chloe says instead. Patiently. She gestures towards the tree - the tree they used to play under all the time as children - nestled in the corner of the backyard.

It’s one of Beca’s favorite spots.

She follows Chloe, wondering if it’s too late to run home and change into her jeans because she’s sure the grass and sticks will prick at her skin, but she’s surprised, as they near, that there is a small blanket laid out underneath.

Chloe had planned for this.

“Please sit,” Chloe offers. She sits comfortably, patting the spot next to her. “I had a feeling you’d dress up a little. Didn’t want you to get a dress dirty.” Her eyes drift down to Beca’s skirt briefly before she lifts her eyes, smiling at Beca. Beca doesn’t feel self-conscious, shockingly. She feels content. Safe.

Maybe a little warm if anything, but she knows that’s probably the proximity to the girl she’s been crushing on for the longest time.

“I...wanted to talk to you because we haven’t...really talked. About...y’know.” A hint of nervousness creeps into Chloe’s voice. “When we kissed and then Tom…” she hesitates. “We just didn’t get to talk about anything. And now the school year’s pretty much over, so I thought…”

“Right,” Beca agrees quickly. Her palms begin to sweat. She sure as hell hopes Chloe doesn’t expect her to lead this conversation. It was mortifying enough the first time around when she had basically laid everything on the line while Chloe was still dating somebody else. When Chloe had left her with nothing more than a heartfelt, vulnerable don’t give up on me. Then she had broken up with Tom and that was all their school could talk about for weeks.

And now this. Somehow Beca survived all of that while slowly making sure her friendship with Chloe survived as well. They both made sure of that.

“I like you,” Chloe declares. “I mean...I think I always did. Like you, I mean. As more than a friend. But the feelings were really confusing.”

“I get it,” Beca says a little too quickly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, laughing a little when Chloe smiles at her. “I feel like I haven’t stopped thinking about this for a while. But I never wanted you to feel pressured to talk about this with me even though we kissed.” She ignores the way her voice totally cracks over that last word.

“I never felt pressured,” Chloe assures her gently. “I am so...grateful that you’re in my life. I didn’t want to mess this up. But I think we should...try.”

“Try?” Beca echoes.

Chloe blushes. Like a full-on blush that spreads across her cheeks, visible to Beca even in the dying daylight. It makes her cheeks rosy and Chloe even flinches at her own reaction. “Dating,” she says simply once she seems to regain control of her emotions. “I want to go on dates with you. And hold your hand. And more kissing! If that’s what you want.”

Beca’s sure that her heart explodes somewhere in her chest because she suddenly finds it very difficult to control various parts of her body. She can’t control the smile that spreads across her face and the following, matching blush in her cheeks. It heats through her face with ease. And even worse, she can’t control the way her hand comes up to her mouth as if to instinctively cover her smile because somehow being thrilled that her crush is basically asking her out making her body react in embarrassing ways.

Chloe laughs at her, not a hint of malice in her laugh. Just joy. “I take that as a yes. Thank God, I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince my parents to move away.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Finally. Teasing. She can do that. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me. You like me too much.”

Chloe’s smile grows soft. “Well...yeah. I do. A lot.”

Beca’s breath catches. She’s sure she could kiss Chloe right now and the crazy part is, it wouldn’t even be totally weird. Or out there. Because they’re going to start dating. But maybe kissing Chloe again before their first date is frowned upon? Beca has no idea. She’s still only ever kissed one person and that person is sitting in front of her.

“Girls! Dinner!”

As if Chloe had been reading her mind and her intentions, Chloe shakes her head and stands, offering a hand to pull Beca up. When Beca stands, they’re somehow even closer - almost nose to nose - than they had been when they were sitting. “Saved by the bell,” Chloe whispers, breath close enough to be felt on Beca’s mouth.

* * * * *

The most interesting part is that Beca hadn’t really thought about any of this - dating Chloe - beyond just vague daydreams and fantasies about just some kind of happy utopia with Chloe by her side. It’s honestly not much different from their usual day-to-day considering how close they already are, but dating? Actual dating?

Her Google search history stares back at her accusingly.

dating tips dating best friend first date first date movies dating girl what to do

She supposes she could ask her mother, but even that brief thought makes her shrink away from her desk. Beca stands and begins pacing. She’s sure that she’s overthinking this all. That Chloe could probably care less about what they do on their first date. That Chloe’s probably just expecting them to spend time together, just the two of them. With more handholding. And maybe a kiss at the end of the night.

“Shit,” Beca mutters suddenly. She rushes back to her computer, adding another search to her list.

kiss on first date ok???

She frowns. Not quite.

kissing before first date acceptable

In the end, she is saved from her descent into a hole of online searching by a text from Chloe herself.

Chloe dinner tomorrow at south street? haven’t been downtown in a while

Beca i’m down!

The ease at which Beca replies does not at all reflect the somersaults in her stomach.

* * * * *

“Hey,” Chloe calls, putting her menu down. “Where’d you go just now?”

Beca blinks, realizing that she had glazed over the menu entirely, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Oh, just...contemplating…” her eyes land on the first item she sees. “Salad.” She can’t help the way her own nose wrinkles instinctively at the thought of eating salad.

Chloe is as intuitive as ever, smiling as she reaches across the table to touch Beca’s hand. “You hate salad. Especially here.”

Beca swallows, struck by both the normalcy and intimacy of Chloe’s touch. They’ve been friends for years—there is nothing extremely off-putting about them holding hands or even just randomly touching each other on the arm, shoulder, knee.

And yet—

Chloe draws her hand away, seemingly not at all aware of Beca’s inner turmoil this time. She refocuses on her menu. “Want me to order something for you?” she asks instead.

Beca nods, though she is surprised. “Sure.” Now she’s curious as to what Chloe will order for her. And if she’s being honest, it kind of makes her feel giddy, the thought of Chloe knowing her well-enough to order something. Not that Beca would even bother with telling Chloe that she’s wrong. She’d eat anything at this point, just to spend more time with Chloe.

It’s not even like they’re at a fancy restaurant. It’s a diner downtown. The bright retro designs all around plus the comfortable, plush booth seats are all appealing to Beca and she likes the general atmosphere.

But she kind of wants to just…

“Can I sit next to you?” she blurts out. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, resisting the urge to avoid Chloe’s curious gaze, which lifts to meet hers immediately.

Chloe grins. “I would want nothing more. Get over here.”

Beca nearly sags in relief, but focuses instead on moving around the booth so she and Chloe are sitting closer, now on side of the booth.

Beca focuses on the frequent piece of advice she had found through a few somewhat reliable Google results.

Hold her hand.

Beca does. She inches her pinky across the cool vinyl seats until she can feel Chloe’s against her finger. Then, she slips her hand over Chloe’s, gently hooking her fingers on Chloe’s palm until Chloe gets the idea.

Chloe’s hand flips slowly, their palms touching. Beca exhales, sliding her fingers between Chloe’s, already liking the easy, comfortable fit of their hands.

Chloe says nothing, content to enjoy the silence and familiarity just as Beca is content to allow her feelings to take over. For a moment, Chloe appears to be perusing the menu in silence, but there is a steadiness to the set of Chloe’s shoulders. Beca can tell, having been so attuned to Chloe’s characteristics for longer than she’d like to admit. For longer than even Chloe herself knows at this moment. She glances at her date—her date!—selfishly taking the moment to appreciate Chloe’s profile.

It’s something she has done so many times before, but this time...this time, in a diner outside of town with the soft clatter of dishes around them and Chloe’s soft, warm palm against her own, Beca knows this is different.

“You know,” Chloe starts awkwardly. “I...obviously don’t mind if you ordered on your own.”

Beca laughs. “Why’d you offer to then?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says, exasperation in her voice. She groans and hangs her head slightly. “I asked Max and-”

“You asked your brother what to do on a date with me?”

“No!” Chloe explains before she snorts. “I just...told him I was worried about impressing a girl. And I don’t know why, but I somehow thought he’d have some idea.” She grins a little, glancing at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Beca says distractedly. She’s more fixated on the fact that Chloe must have been truly desperate to have turned to her older brother for help.

“Oh and he totally guessed I was going out with you, by the way.”

That’s not something that thrills Beca too much. Her imagination immediately conjures up a comically exaggerated vision of Chloe’s brother threatening her with a knife. “How?” she asks. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He just kind of guessed and then said ‘finally’ or something like that.”

“Well, thank you for offering to order for me. It was very...chivalrous of you.”

“Please stop.”

“Quite charming.”

“Beca.”

“I can’t wait to see what other moves you try on me. Are we going to share one milkshake?”

“...no?”

* * * * *

They end up ordering two separate milkshakes because Beca sticks to her vanilla and Chloe orders chocolate.

“Try,” Chloe commands. “You always get vanilla. Chocolate is so good.”

Beca sighs, but obediently sticks her straw into Chloe’s cup despite Chloe’s protests of “contamination” and quickly takes a sip just to shut Chloe up for the time being. It’s not horrible - Beca just isn’t the fan of how chocolate tastes in milkshake form, though she’s sure Chloe will claim there’s no difference if the milkshake were in a solid chocolate bar form instead.

However, she’s mildly distracted by the sudden proximity she and Chloe have between them. Chloe’s arm rests loosely over her shoulder, where she had put her arm when Beca leaned in to drink from Chloe’s cup. She can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck and her cheek.

It would be so easy to just turn and -

Beca shakes her head slightly and shifts back. Chloe takes a moment longer to slowly move her arm from around Beca’s shoulders.

“What?” Beca asks quietly, poking at her fries a little. She catches Chloe smiling at her affectionately.

“Nothing,” Chloe replies quickly. “Just...you smell nice. That’s all.”

* * * * *

“I guess it’s kind of convenient that we live together,” Beca remarks, trying not to think too hard about the way Chloe’s hand feels in her own. She winces. “Well. Not live together. But…you know. Live next to each other.”

Chloe tilts her head, smiling as they walk up the path towards their houses. “And why is that convenient?” she asks lightly.

Beca blushes. She hadn’t thought this far. “I’m…I don’t know. I was just…commenting. On the convenience.”

Chloe giggles, pulling Beca closer ever so slightly. Beca likes the way their arms press together. She likes holding Chloe’s hand. She likes lifting her other hand to curl against the bend of Chloe’s elbow.

She likes knowing that Chloe likes her—really likes her—and Chloe enjoyed their date and—and—

“This is you,” Chloe murmurs, stopping in front of Beca’s door.

Beca kind of doesn’t want the night to end. She wants to sit on the porch and talk to Chloe for a few more minutes. Maybe one more hour. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have her attention for a few moments longer.

“This is me,” Beca parrots, feeling a lot more nervous than she thinks she’s letting on. That was what people said in those movies adorning Chloe’s shelves, right? It was what the internet said. Normal first date cliches. She steps backwards, under the light of her front porch, still holding Chloe’s hand as she does so. Chloe hesitates for a moment like she wants to follow, but ultimately she simply squeezes Beca’s hand in understanding and drops her own hand away.

Beca is immediately disappointed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She bites her lip, watching as Chloe awkwardly shuffles her feet before she glances back up at Beca. A soft, slow smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, gentle and affectionate all at once. It makes Beca’s heart pound ridiculously hard.

“I had fun,” Chloe whispers, like she’s afraid somebody else will hear her. But not because she's afraid of other people. Just afraid that their bubble will burst, like Beca is. Another step closer. Beca swallows. “Can we do that again?”

“You’d want to go on more dates?” Beca asks, just to clarify, even though she knows exactly what Chloe’s asking.

“I would love to go on more dates with you.”

“Me too,” Beca squeaks out. “I—um—”

Chloe’s smile stretches, somehow happier than before. “Goodnight Beca.”

Something in Beca snaps. She steps forward, just two small steps and calls out Chloe’s name. “Wait,” she adds hastily.

Chloe stops and turns, surprised.

“Can I—” Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Can I kis—”

She doesn’t get to finish her question before Chloe is covering the ground between them in two short strides, wrapping her hand around the back of Beca’s head, letting the other come up to Beca’s arm, and kissing her for all her worth.

Beca gasps in surprise into the kiss, hands coming up to Chloe’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Gently and slowly, Chloe presses further into the kiss, her lips moving ever so lightly against Beca’s. It is so much more than their first kiss—a do-over, if anything—and Beca realizes, with a jolt, that this is something she can do now. She can kiss Chloe because Chloe likes her and Chloe went on a date with her. Chloe held her hand all night.

Chloe wants to kiss her too.

Beca hums happily at the thought, looping her hands behind Chloe’s neck. It feels instinctual even as Beca blushes at the sudden intensity of the kiss. She knows Chloe has kissed more people than she has; she knows Chloe will forever have more experience in this regard. But God, Beca thinks that she has never felt more wonderful or powerful than she does in this moment, tightening her grip on the fabric of Chloe’s light jacket.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Beca heaves a breath and rests her forehead against Chloe’s forehead. Chloe’s breathing is the tiniest bit labored as well. For a moment, neither of them dares to move, too afraid to break the spell between them.

Chloe is the first to smile—the first to press forward ever so slightly so their noses brush delicately. “What were you going to ask?” Chloe murmurs.

Beca swats her shoulder lightly. “You’re so weird,” she mumbles back, leaning in to steal just one more kiss from her beautiful, wonderful date.

* * * * *

When Beca reaches the solitude of her bedroom, she finally gets what all those high school romcoms were about. Showing their protagonist thrilled to finally finish a date so they can squeal and giggle and simply dream about their crush or date. It’s probably the first time that Beca has felt her energy rebound around her room with such happiness and positivity. The sensation is addicting—she honestly just wants to text Chloe all night.

Which, honestly, she could.

Chloe kissed her. Chloe kissed her because she likes her and they just went on a date. A freaking date.

A text from Chloe jolts her back to reality.

Chloe i miss you, is that weird?

Beca no because i miss you too. weirdo.

Chloe i have something else to tell you. that might be weird. Idk

Beca go for it.

Beca watches the text bubbles float in and out on her screen, like Chloe is typing a paragraph. Despite Chloe just saying that she missed her, Beca can’t help but feel nervous.

Chloe I just wanted you to know why i picked south street. it’s because. well. Remember when we first went there by ourselves without our parents. Sometime last year. With a few friends. And we all squeezed into that booth and sat there and shared fries and milkshakes and felt like we were at the top of the world because we were finally in high school or something stupid like that. I don’t even remember much about that night or who we were with but i do remember seeing the way you laughed at something and how your entire face lit up. and i remember thinking that i really liked you and how scary it was that i felt these things for you so suddenly and so much. Like a lot. but i’m so glad that we both got to this point - that we both feel the same way. I just really loved the way you looked when you laughed and i am so happy you’re in my life.

Chloe also i really like kissing you

Beca doesn’t even bother replying.

She shoves on her shoes again and rushes out the front door. She is only surprised to see Chloe sitting on her own front porch, staring worriedly at her phone.

“You really are so weird, y'know that?” She calls out, careful not to startle Chloe too much.

Chloe does jump anyway, but she sets her phone down quickly. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this date off again that you confessed your big scary feelings. Through a text message.” Beca pretends to be annoyed as she stomps over to Chloe. “You couldn’t have said all that?”

“You make me nervous!” Chloe exclaims.

Beca shakes her head, mustering up all the courage she has in the world, pulling Chloe in for a kiss like she wanted to earlier before Chloe beat her to it.

“So much better,” Beca whispers, smiling when Chloe huffs quietly against her mouth.

It's the perfect end to the beginning Beca has been dreaming of all this time.

fin.

#now i see daylight #mine #my fanfic #bechloe #pitch perfect #text #writing #fanfiction #wlw #chloe tag

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nat-20s · 3 years ago

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Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!!#also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

Note

Could you write Sev taking the woman he’s been in love with for months on a first date in London, and he goes all out for it? Like he even went out and bought muggle clothes to blend in and he’s planned out the whole night. He’s of course nervous af but at the end of the night, he finally kisses her.

Also, your writing is so fucking good! Can’t wait for more!

THANK YOU. This is an amazing prompt. I had so much fun with this one!

Here ya go! :) (Below the cut!)

A New Beginning

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Quick self promo - for all my Wattpad readers, I have a Severus Snape x Reader story that is currently in the works! Please note, it has been a long time since I’ve written a continuous story so my skills are a little rusty. The first 11 chapters are up now and I update frequently. The title is “The Assistant” and my Wattpad username is @ hufflehotch (great username, I know). If you’re interested, feel free to give it a read! I encourage comments (on any of my works) because I always like to hear feedback!

Word Count: 2,000

“Not at all...but you look too much like a wizard,”

Severus Snape: firm, collected, cold, stoic, urgent. These are just a few words that would come to mind when describing the half-blood prince. He kept his guard up at all times. He infrequently allowed others to get too close to him. He kept his heart, his mind, and his feelings protected by having a hard exterior that no one could crack. He never wanted to feel the pain of a heartbreak again. He didn’t think he’d ever find love again.

That was before he met you.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew he was in trouble. He knew the unmistakable skip in his chest all too well when his gaze found yours. He denied it at first. He didn’t dare get near you or engage in conversation for fear of falling for you. However, he found himself constantly in your presence and constantly trying to get away. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings in any way, for you hadn’t done anything wrong. You were so kind to him in the interactions you did have that he felt guilty for pushing you away. Eventually, he gave in. Once he did finally give in, he slowly felt the icy, cold block around his heart begin to melt away.

He began to change quickly. Suddenly, he looked forward to waking up every morning to have a conversation with you over a cup of coffee or tea. He was less stern in all of his Potions classes and actually offered his more pleasant teaching abilities (which had caused a bit of a puzzled stir amongst his students). He found himself enjoying his life again. He wasn’t just existing anymore.

The longer he was around you and the more he got to know you, the more difficult it became to ignore his feelings. He had undeniably fallen in love with you and he couldn’t wait any longer.

He was relieved when you happily agreed to go on a date with him. As exciting as it was, a new sense of nervousness began to creep over him. It had been a long, long time since he had been on a date (if he had even ever been on what was considered a real date). What would you two do? What should he wear? Should he bring flowers? He had a million things he had to work out, and he wanted to make it perfect.

He didn’t want to miss this chance.

He was so desperate to make it perfect that he even invested in some outside help. It wasn’t a super well known fact, but Professor Remus Lupin was a pure romantic. He knew all the ins and outs of how to have a nice date, so he was more than willing to give his colleague some tips. Keep it simple, but sweet.

The day came around and Severus felt like he was walking on pins and needles all day. He could barely get through his Friday classes because he was so overwhelmed with nerves and anticipation.

He had decided on taking you to London. The beautiful Muggle city with endless shops and restaurants to entertain even the most high maintenance of people. Usually, he wouldn’t be too keen on blending with the Muggle world, but you were a dazzling woman who deserved an even more stunning place for a date.

He had to prepare in advance for this. He had to purchase clothes that wouldn’t totally give away that he was an expertly trained wizard. He felt strange being in such foreign clothes, but (even though he’d never admit it) it was nice to wear something other than his black robes.

The white collared shirt was finely fitted over his frame, along with the tan pants and shoes to accompany it. He looked handsome and more put together than he had been in a while. He had even taken the time to keep his long hair from being completely out of control. He had taken a few more moments to ease his nerves. His hands were shaking profusely. He did NOT want to mess this up.

He managed to settle himself enough to where he wasn’t completely frazzled. He took a deep breath and went on his way to pick you up. He was confident. He had this under control.

That was, until he saw you.

All the butterflies in his belly and the rosy heat in his cheeks all came crashing back over him when he saw you clad in a Muggle style sweater and jeans. You looked so perfect that he wasn’t sure you were real.

“Severus,” You greeted with a friendly smile; “I have to say, I never thought I’d see the day where you were dressed in something other than your robes.”

Severus suddenly felt self conscious. Had he gone a little overboard with his attire?

“Is it...too much?” He asked as casually as possible.

Your smile faded into a reassuring expression. It was your turn to get butterflies now that you were really looking at him. You carefully reached for the collar of his shirt. He had buttoned it all the way to the top, just below his neck. You unbuttoned the first few buttons and adjusted his collar.

“Not at all...but you look too much like a wizard,” You explained; “Muggles usually are much more laid back.” You noted.

The tips of Severus’ ears went beet red at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing against the skin of his neck. He was grateful that his hair kept them hidden. You were so close that he could smell your perfume. It was heavenly and accented you well. He racked his brain of something to say.

“You look terrific.” He complimented.

A certain glow dusted your cheeks. You smiled sheepishly at his words and thanked him. After a few more attire adjustments, you were well on your way into London with the help of a little magic. Severus had forgotten just how amazing London really was. He had a bit of a soft spot for the city.

He had the entire evening planned out in his head. He figured dinner would be first. There was a quaint, yet elegant place that he knew about and had been to a few times before. After that, he thought that St. James Park would be a nice place to wind down for the evening. St. James was likely one of London’s most famous parks, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be super crowded.

The two of you strolled side by side through the streets of London, casually conversing about the things they usually did. Potions, professional Quidditch, Hogwarts in general. At one point, your hand brushed against his as you drew nearer to your first destination. Before he could comprehend it, your hand had entwined in his. He slightly squeezed your hand in surprise, to which you squeezed back lightly with a grin.

Dinner was wonderful. Severus was so antsy and jittery that he could barely sit still longer than a few minutes. His leg bounced nervously under the table and his fingers drummed on the white tablecloth. You kept catching him staring longingly at you. He just couldn’t believe that he had finally caught this moment with you.

“Severus, it’s just me,” You said sweetly, hiding a knowing smirk from behind the rim of your wine glass; “We’ve had dinner together plenty of times.”

That seemed to settle him once more. His tense shoulders suddenly released and he let out an uptight breath. You were right. He didn’t need to try to outdo himself.

“I know. You’re just so beautiful,” He spoke softly, feeling confident again; “[Y/N], I lov-”

His sudden confession was cut off when the waiter approached with your respective meals. Severus thanked his lucky stars for that. He knew now wasn’t the right time yet. A busy restaurant with a bunch of people around wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He wanted to wait for the right moment. He just hoped he’d know it when he saw it.

After dinner, you led him back into the streets of London, still hand in hand. It was well past nightfall by now, the city lights had created a bubble of illumination over the immediate area. You were all over the idea of going to the park before it closed, considering it was your favorite place in the city. It turned out that Severus’ suspicions were correct. The park was shockingly empty for a Friday night. The two of you walked on the dimly lit walkways, soaking up every second.

Maybe it was his sudden serenity and content aura, but the two of you suddenly fell into a conversation that was something other than work related. He didn’t know it yet, but the walls that he had spent so much of his energy on building were quickly tumbling down. He was sharing details of his life that he never thought he’d bring to light again. You weren’t surprised to hear that his childhood had been less than gratifying.

“You didn’t like Hogwarts?” You questioned after hearing that he had a bad experience with the school.

“Well, I was skilled when it came to my classes. I enjoyed learning about the wizarding world, but I was the runt of the litter I suppose. I wasn’t well liked.”He told you, who was on edge with interest; “I didn’t have a single friend. That was until...”

He let himself trail off. He refused to finish the thought.

No. For once, this wasn’t about Lily. He wasn’t mourning over something that was never reality. He wasn’t going to let his life be dictated by one wish that never came true for him. When the time was right, he’d tell you about Lily. You deserved to know when that day came. But it wasn’t about her anymore.

It was about you.

Before you could urge him to finish his sentence, he had stopped your walk just over a small bridge. He held your hands in front of him, his thumbs stroking your supple skin on the back of your hand. His nerves had completely fizzled away now. He knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Right now, this moment was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your tender eyes looked into his. He had a sight deep within his dark eyes that you couldn’t identify. Had he always looked at you this way? It was such an extensive adoration that it made you weak in the knees. The moon was full in the black, inky sky that was sprinkled with twinkling stars. The moon was cascading a crisp, dull light over the both of you.

This was almost too flawless.

“[Y/N], I’m having a difficult time finding the right words to say.” He admitted, his voice thick with depth.

You took a half step to press yourself against him, allowing this to happen the way it needed to.

“Then show me.” You breathed, bracing for what was inevitably about to happen.

That’s when he kissed you. It was a passionate, temperate kiss that was just borderline needy. It sent waves of emotion over both of you that was too complex to understand. The rest of Severus’ walls were crumbled now. He was vulnerable and open again. It was a huge pressure off of him.

You pulled away from each other just slightly, your lips just hardly touching. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Your hands traveled and rested on his shoulders, his hands on your waist.

“I love you.” He finally declared.

It was like the floodgates had opened. The contents of his heart were spilling all within himself. He could love again.

“Oh, Severus...I love you.” You returned.

Instantly, you kissed again. His new refreshing outlook was very clear in his demeanor. It was the perfect way to end the perfect night.

It was a perfect new beginning.

#severus snape #severus #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #professor snape #professor snape x reader #professor snape x you #seriouslysnape

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

Text

dreamscapes

this is a little gift-fic for @scribbledghost! because you know as well as I do that she deserves all the love in the universe. this takes place in her “Multitudes AU” (or does it..?) and I directly pulled some lines from her stories to make parallels, so all rights belong to her. If you haven’t read it recently, I highly recommend a reread - not because it’s necessary but because it’s that good.

paring: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: brief mention of ‘canon’ typical trauma, literally so much fluff

summary: post universe-collision, you and Jack grow closer and closer every day, and every night

A few weeks had passed since your literal reality had collided with Jack’s- and it still feels surreal. He wouldn’t take no for an answer in all the best ways: you lived in his home, worked in his office, ate everything he put before you. It was the most safe and loved you felt in years, maybe ever.

The looming threat of losing it all, the memories of it actually happening, and echoes of loneliness still haunted you sometimes, but he fought them. Your sweet, try-hard Statesman cowboy would fight for you, making sure you eat like a mother hen, and shooing away prying questioners like it was his job. And he wrapped his strong arms around you, resting his chin on your head and glaring, daring the darkness to try taking away his love again.

It’s not happening – he spent too many nights sleepless, agonizing over the death of your world to let anything happen to you. And he lost so much once, he knows he wont make the same mistake twice.

Towards the beginning, he had been careful, trying to be as considerate as possible, but you’d been in agreement about one thing: you would share his bed. After gathering the courage to sleep with your monitors side by side, this was an obvious choice, but seeing his face when you woke didn’t compare to the elation of reaching forward and touching it. Of feeling his skin against yours, the relaxed muscles of his half-asleep body, gathering you as close to him as he could.

It was perfect.

Except, there was one thing being tucked against him couldn’t fix, that all the fighting for your health couldn’t cut away.

Nightmares.

Waking up to the love of his life tended or thrashing in his arms was a hurdle he never even thought of when he yearned for your presence in his life. Jack did everything he could, whispering into your hair, running soothing hands over your skin, even signing his favorite country lullabies when you woke and needed his voice to cling to. It made him wish for the times when you’d find each other in your dreams, when he could look you in your eyes and mouth to you that he would do anything to make sure it was okay.

It made him wish, as as he had before, that the universe had given him you under different circumstances.

And in a way, he got his wish.

It was hazy, he almost couldn’t see – musty and damp and dark, like he was a basement.

In the background of his mind there was a pulsing ache of fear, desperation, claustrophobia, and betrayal. It was gnawing at him, steady as a drum, pounding and painful.

Jack tried go move, his limbs heavy and stiff and different, than he remembered them. Harrier, darker, less … human. You were tucked into his side, tears drying on your face as your hands wander across the expanse of his chest.

The rising panic in his chest subsided.

Everything was different except one thing. You loved him, and he loved you.

Sure that everything could be okay, he shook his head to clear it, confused at the weight and size of it, before he woke, for real.

Jack felt strange, lighter and smaller, and he took slow breaths through his mouth. Against his side, you were still asleep, mercifully peaceful, and your hand twitched on his chest, running through the folds of his shirt like it was part of him.

When you woke, you’re eyes were puffy, but void of the familiar dark circles you’d grown accustomed to. Footsteps lighter than he could remember them being in awhile, Jack made you pancakes that morning, thinking nothing of the dream he had.

You were his love, brought to him by the universe and some science, and his sheer power of will, and he wasn’t going to dwell on anything other then the fact that you were here. He was going to take it day by day.

It was a byproduct of your trauma, your need to stay close to him, and he liked having you a step away, or better yet, under his arm. Well rested, you slipped your hand into he crook of his elbow and talked more boldly around his coworkers. When you mimicked his accent he nearly cried, thankful beyond words he could see the teasing glint in your eyes, clear of the usual sheen of anxiety.

It was more than enough, your energy, to occupy his heart and mind the whole day through.

Your body had been sore when you went to bed, just a little from building your strength and keeping up with your long-limbed lover.

But this was something different, something new. Your body ached, pulsing and throbbing and through the haze of confusion you realized you needed… Jack. Where was he? He should know. He should be able to feel how much you needed him to soothe your pain.

Distress rose in your throat until you could hear yourself, pleading for him, whining in a way you didn’t recognize. You didn’t know who you were talking to, but you were desperate for his touch, his comfort, anything.

And all of a sudden there he was, like he had heard you, your Jack but… different. Intense, shockingly so, confident and possessive waves rolling off of him, and you would have froze if seeing him didn’t make you need him even more.

When he stooped closer to you, though, the fear melted away, and he was gentle, so caring and worried and tender you could hardly understand it.

He was rougher and softer than the Jack you’d fallen asleep next to, but when he rubbed his nose along your neck, there wasn’t a single worry in your mind. Comfort washed over you, flooded your mind and body, his adoration clear and you could smell him. It was your Jack, your love, and he was taking care of you.

At the Statesman headquarters the next day, Ginger caught your arm, and Jack bristled next to you.

The woman let go quickly but her smile was kind as she told you, “You’ve been looking better, recently.”

She wanted to ask What changed? but she hardly could. You were fine the last time you let them test you, and she was well aware she was on thin ice. Besides, other than looking more rested, more self assured, it’s not like there was any evidence that the change in realities was having a lasting impact on you.

You smiled graciously and thanked her, before your love moved you along.

In truth, you felt better, too, and you didn’t want to question it.

It was another nightmare.

You surveyed the surrounding wasteland with resignation, less afraid that you had been in one of these in quite a long time. Your legs felt stronger than they had in months, like you’d been hiking. Jack’s whip was in your hand and you stared at it, wondering at the pride and confidence that filled your chest.

The realization hit you – you knew how to use it, enjoyed it even. Baffled at your satisfaction, you went back to examining the woods around you, searching for clues to the place your mind had created for you.

There were people around you, that you vaguely recognized from the Statesman, battered and looking worse for wear. They were listening to your Jack, as he instructed them on something.

Moving closer you saw his facial hair was grown out, rugged and handsome, and there were spatters of something dark on the edges of his clothes. The words coming from his mouth were strange, but you didn’t mind them, determination settling in your gut like you knew what he was saying.

Instinctively, your hand slipped into a pocket of your bag, and you pulled out a little stuffed cat. Perplexed but comforted, you put it away, looking up to see your love coming towards you. He was solid at your side, tired eyes filled with the fire of survival.

“You know I ain’t goin’ anywhere you ain’t, baby,” he said it like a promise he’d spoken many times before.

“I know, cowboy,” you heard yourself say.

It took you two steps to Jack’s, when he was walking quickly. The pace made your journey from Gingers office short and you almost laughed at the look on your partner’s face.

You loved him, but sometimes you felt like he was more anxious than you were, about your joining his world’s population.

Her and Soda had just shown you… something crazy, to be sure. All the universes where they’d found you and Jack connected, and it was beautiful, overwhelming.

Once the high had worn off, however, there were lingering thoughts, unspoken fears – what did that mean? What would happen in the universe decided it need more drastic methods to correct the error you created?

The little videos danced in your mind, stirring up foggy memories of things that didn’t quite feel like your own. It left you uneasy, uncertain, but you promised him that they were proof. If you could be certain about one thing, surely it was him?

Settling in his arms that night, you notice he held you tighter, like he was cherishing it as much as he had the very first time he held you.

The sun was well into the sky by the time Jack pried his eyes open, and that was normal. He wasn’t sure why, but if definitely felt routine.

This dream was a blurry as he prepared for the day, surprisingly domestic until it stilled again, and his elbows were resting on a long wooden counter.

There was laughter and chatter and country music and flirting and it seemed comfortable, like he belonged here. Almost like this was his home, and he’d been here awhile.

But his heart clenched when he looked around and couldn’t see you. Fear clawed at his throat and he almost thought it would be okay if you were anywhere – with another man or annoyed in the corner or anything, as long as you were here.

But then he felt your hand on his back, and he whipped around, almost knocking over a weeks worth of wages in glass. It didn’t matter, you were there, and he was so glad to see you he didn’t even tan your hide for coming behind the bar.

No, instead he kissed you until he heard hoots and hollers from his patrons, relishing the way you kissed him back, hands holding him like he was your anchor.

Pulling away, he realized a crudely dressed ex-customer was walking out the door, no doubt suddenly aware of the futility of flirting with him, and he tugged you into his side.

When you looked at him unquestioningly, he knew, to the sole of his boots, you weren't going anywhere.

The burning of the ring in his pocket lessened, and he kissed you again.

Jack woke, more at ease than he’d been for a long time. Tilting his head he watched your eyes move behind your eyelids, lashes fluttering before you sighed and tucked your nose into his neck and settled.

It was a perfect moment, or it would have been, if Ginger’s show yesterday wasn’t still sticking in his kind, buzzing around like a summer fly, too small and quick to grasp. His previous worries of you being taken from him, were eased by his dreams but…

His dreams. Finally, he could place a finger on what was so strange about those images saying before his eyes yesterday. It was almost as if he’d had that feeling, of connection to you, before. Almost if he’d been having them for months.

Jack mulled it over for throughout the morning, wondering if having such an odd conversation was worth spoiling the peaceful Saturday.

You looked so cozy, wrapped in one of his sweatshirts, rocking gently on his patio, the sunshine brushing your outstretched toes.

But he couldn’t resist. It felt like a gift from the universe, those little dreams, and he wanted to acknowledge it.

“I’ve been having dreams about you lately,” he said, settling next to you with a strange sense of dejavu.

“Yeah?” you asked, cuddling into him like it had never been different. “What kinda dreams?”

“Well…” he started, “it’s like I’m me… but I’m not. Like those different universes Ginger and Soda showed us – I’m Jack from somewhere else, doing something else. And then you’re there, darlin, and just when I know everything’s going to be okay – ”

“You wake up,” you finished, giddy laughter bubbling out of you. “I’ve been havin the same dreams, I thought… I thought it was just me.”

“Again,” Jack joined you laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I think we can reasonably come to the same conclusion we did last time, cowboy,” you said, relaxing into the warmth of his chest again.

“Maybe this was all meant to be, somehow.”

Jack leaned down to kiss your temple, his mouth almost smiling too wide to do it properly.

“Maybe like we were meant to be.”

Jack woke alone in his bed, longing in his heart.

As he got up and got ready for work, his movements were methodical, boring, simple. It was lonely, a feeling he hadn’t quite felt in awhile, and he hated it, wondering why it felt so wrong.

When he looked through his kitchen window, he knew.

Across his yard and part of another, there you were, sleepy as you picked up the newspaper off your porch. You glanced at his house and he almost ducked like a teenager caught peeping, but he held his ground, ready to wave if your eyes met his.

When they didn’t, a need rose in his stomach, insistent. There was no way he could start his day without seeing you – and when he checked the clock, it confirmed the theory blooming in his mind.

He had planned for this.

Grinning, he threw on his boots and slipped out the door, grabbing an extra handful of eggs to share with you.

In the back of his mind, Jack thought it was nice, to get to fall in love with you in a normal way.

You woke alone in your bed, longing in your heart.

Rolling out of it, you began to get ready, a nagging feeling on your mind. You shouldn’t feel lonely, it said, and you almost believed it.

Still, you werent sure what to do about it, you had to get ready for the day. You had ample time, for some reason, but making a real breakfast, one with eggs, seemed like it would only make you with you had someone to eat them with. So you wandered around your house, confused at why your feet wanted to carry you outside.

When you did, to get the newspaper, you knew. Looking over at the house next to yours, you scolded yourself for not remembering – Jack. Your love, your cowboy, wait. No, your crush.

The pig milling around his garden looked at you, and you could’ve sworn she winked.

Back inside, you watched through the window as he sauntered his way over o your home, and you grinned. He was wearing his boots and jeans and his shirt was mis-buttoned, and he was bringing over some of his eggs.

In the back of your mind, you were thankful for the chance to fall in love, the normal way.

Bonus:

Jack sighed, turning his pencil to tap the eraser on the paper of the notebook.

He wasn’t sure how he got here, really it didn’t make sense, but here he was, nonetheless. Writing stories about a love of his life he hadn’t met yet.

It didn’t bother him really, as the lines filled the papers, but he’d been catching himself daydreaming a lot recently. He liked the idea of someone out in the universe, sweet and kind and lovely, who adored him just as thoroughly.

And little did he know, that he was right.

taglist?:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

whiskey taglist?:

@0celestialbitch0

#happy birthday my dear!#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #fanfic fanfic

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feralnumberfive · 3 years ago

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The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho”

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely.

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse?

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.”

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder?

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00*

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in?

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer.

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#surprise here's another long over due post!#tra #the rewatch academy #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

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Here’s something I really can’t explain.

To sum up: I shouldn’t be alive right now. I shouldn’t be writing this. I have no idea how any of this could have happened, but the fact you’re reading this now is kind of living proof that it did happen, so I suppose I’ll try and explain it as best as I can.

A little backstory for you. Way back in the late forties, my great-grandfather was a young man working with the local fire department. He came back after the war and just couldn’t settle into any kind of desk job, so despite my great-grandmother worrying about his mental state he ended up running into burning buildings for a living. Naturally he saw some messed up shit, but nothing haunted him more than a hotel fire that he attended.

At the time there had been an annual prize night for a local grammar school. Hundreds of kids and their families were crammed into the hotel’s large ballroom when a stray match lit up the curtains on the stage. Back in the day they weren’t exactly great about fire safety, and the walls and furniture were panelled or made with highly flammable materials. The whole room went up in minutes. Over one hundred people died, over half of which were children below the age of fifteen. It was an indescribable tragedy, and my great-grandfather – along with every first responder there – was scarred for life over the things he saw that evening.

My great-grandfather did his best to live with what happened, and for the most part he did well, all things considered. All of his grief seemed to be directed towards one little girl, who was never identified or claimed. She was badly burned but not unrecognisable; the theory was that her whole family had died with her, leaving nobody left to notice she was gone. She wasn’t the only person to suffer this fate, unfortunately – all told, five people were never claimed by families – but because my great-grandfather was the one to pull her body from the wreckage, he sort of became obsessed with her. He was preoccupied until his death with finding out her identity, and every year on the anniversary of the fire he visited her grave to lay a wreath. Unfortunately, he died without ever finding out who she was.

Fast forward a few decades, and I’m in my early twenties. My great-grandfather died when I was quite young, so I only had a small idea of this part of his history. It was, however, enough to make me wary of large fires – especially hotel fires. One summer, I’m visiting another city for my younger brother’s university graduation, and I stay the night in a hotel near the city centre. I remember fires were on my mind already, because initially they had tried to give me a room on the twenty-third floor, and I had politely refused and requested a lower floor. (An old maxim of my great-grandfather’s: never stay on a floor where you wouldn’t survive the fall.) Because of the graduation, the hotel was packed, and I ended up on the fifth floor in the end, but I figured it was better than nothing.

The first night was fine. The second night a fire broke out. The hotel had had some electrical rewiring done within the last month, and something went wrong. The fire smouldered for hours, undetected, before spreading into multiple parts of the ventilation system. Smoke and flame was pushed to all corners of the hotel before the fire cut out the power. Later, investigators would discover that the fire burned through the power for the smoke and fire detection alarms almost immediately – yet somehow the fire alarms went off. This is only the beginning of the inexplicable that night.

By the time the alarms woke me, my room was already filled with smoke. I had been drilled on this so many times as a child that it was instinctive for me to roll off the bed and onto the floor; only then did I start to panic. Luckily I had fallen asleep with the curtains open – the only time I had ever done that in a hotel – and the city lights illuminated the room enough to let me know the smoke was only in the top two thirds of the room, and not as thick as it could have been. I had time to crawl into the bathroom, wet a towel, and tie it around my nose and mouth. Then I crawled to the door and lay a hand flat on it. The door was cool, so I cautiously pulled it open.

In the hallway, it was pitch dark. This is the worst case scenario for any fire. Smoke disorientates people, and they feel ill from inhaling it. Panic compounds the confusion. People can get lost in their own homes – hotels are the worst place for something like this. People stand little chance of getting out if they haven’t memorised an exit, and even then it’s not foolproof. I should know. I always memorise exits, but when I went out of my room I turned the wrong way. I don’t know why. I was panicking, I was confused, and I just made the wrong choice. It should have cost me my life.

I realised my mistake as soon as I reached the end of the hall. The door there was propped open (fire safety hazard, I remember thinking, like it mattered at that point) but I could see no flames. The door led to the stairwell, and I had just crawled out onto it when the entire world went black. The smoke and flame had intensified, the fire sucking in oxygen and the smoke being forced up the stairwell like a huge chimney. It spilled over the edges of the landing and enveloped me even hunched on my hands and knees. My eyes began to sting and water; I couldn’t see anything. I crawled back and bumped into the wall, and for several long seconds that felt like minutes, I couldn’t find my way out of the stairwell. The heat was evaporating the water in the towel, and the sheer amount of smoke meant it wasn’t doing much good anyway. By the time I finally made it back out into the hall, I was coughing and choking. Panic made me pull the towel down. I only took the smallest breath before the floor tilted under me and I experienced a horrible rush of lightheadedness – with smoke so toxic, sometimes a breath is all it takes.

I kept crawling, heading back towards my room, now realising my mistake. At that point I was forcing myself to stay calm, but it wasn’t working. I had realised I had probably just gotten myself killed, and it was almost impossible to breathe. The temperature was climbing, and I knew the fire was close. I could hear screaming from somewhere nearby, doors slamming. Every single rational thought had left. I scrambled down the hallway in pure panic, and then I saw the child.

She was hunched down, looking right at me. She wasn’t in any kind of night clothing – she looked like she was still in the clothing she would have worn at the graduation ceremony, a neat little dress and polished shoes, a ribbon tied in her hair. She was perhaps eight years old at my best guess, and seeing her shocked some sense into me. Before I could speak or gesture to the direction she should go, she waved and then pointed.

“Come on, mister,” she said. “This way.”

Together we crawled to the other end of the hallway. Smoke was billowing from that stairwell, too, thick and dark though still not as bad as the other one. Either way it didn’t look good, but the little girl didn’t seem concerned – not even when we crawled out onto the landing, and the orange flicker of flames was visible several floors below.

“No,” I said. “It’ll be too hot.”

“Come on, mister,” she said again.

She began scrambling down the stairs, staying as low as possible. I could hardly leave her, so I followed.

The heat was unbearable, and by the time we were on the floor below, visibility was zero. The smoke was so thick and black that even the flicker of the flames had vanished; the only way I knew how close they were was from the heat and the deafening roar of it. Have you ever been near to a large bonfire? Have you heard how loudly it crackles? That’s nothing. Big fires, they roar. They sound closer to a freight train, a tornado. It’s a sound so loud that it sets off a primal kind of terror, even without the heat and the smoke to add to the danger. What I’m saying is that it’s something that’s very difficult to crawl towards, yet there we were.

I couldn’t see the little girl, but every time I began to panic she would reach back and touch me. The heat grew and I could smell my hair burning, my clothing threatening to catch. The floor was excruciating, and while I didn’t realise it at the time, I was in the process of receiving third degree burns on my hands and knees from the floor alone. I felt faint, the heat making my head pound. It seemed to drain my of my energy, and during those last seconds – as we passed directly past the floor where the inferno was at its worst – I was sure I was running only on pure animal instinct to get away.

Then we descended into the hallway below the fire, and it was all gone. The heat lingered, but it was nothing compared to what it was before. The smoke was hazy grey, high up by the ceiling. The little girl was tugging at me, and I realised I’d collapsed to the ground.

“Quickly, mister!” she said now. “Not far!”

In my pain and confusion, it didn’t occur to me that she wasn’t burned; that she had no difficulty breathing. She tugged hard at my clothing, and while I didn’t know that my clothing was alight at the time, later I remembered and wondered how she had done it. With her prompting and encouragement I made it down the last of the stairs and out into the hotel’s lobby, which was shockingly untouched. Alarms were blaring, but the room was free of smoke and many of the hotel’s employees remained there, grabbing people as they emerged, coughing, from stairwells and hurrying them outside. When I stumbled into the lobby I was immediately tackled by several employees who were, I was later told, beating the flames from me. I had stumbled into the lobby on fire.

I don’t remember anything else. I didn’t have time to mention the girl. I passed out, and was kept in a medically induced coma while my body recovered from serious burns. I very nearly didn’t make it, and when I awoke I had several months of painful operations and skin grafts to go. My hands were badly burned, though the doctors managed to save nearly all my fingers – I’m only missing the little fingers to the first knuckle, and while the scarring is bad I can use the hands well. My knees are badly scarred but functional. My back isn’t pretty to look at, but it doesn’t bother me now, not outside of itching in the heat. I forgot about the girl until just before I was released from hospital, five months later, but to my relief I was told that no children had died in the fire. Whoever she was, she had gotten out safe.

Almost a year later, my grandfather died. He was the son of my firefighter great-grandfather, and when my own father and I were around his house, sorting through his things, we came across some of my great-grandfather’s stuff. Medals, a few old photographs of the family, some letters. My father and I went through the pictures, my father pointing out relatives and telling a few stories here and there. What you would expect from such an occasion, really – but then I found an old picture of a little girl.

I recognised her immediately as the little girl I had seen in the hotel – there was no denying it. The picture was an unpleasant one, taken post-mortem, and while half of her body was badly charred the other half looked as though she could be sleeping. Her hair was the same, the bow singed but present. The dress was the same. I could even still hear how she sounded. Come on, mister! I was so shocked I didn’t say anything. My father looked at it for a long moment, and then he gave a sad sigh.

“I wish he had found out who she was,” he said. “That haunted him. He felt like he failed her.” He took the photo from me and looked a little more closely at it. “Nonsense, of course. He did everything for that little girl. I’m sure she would thank him if she could.”

She did, I thought. She did.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #back at it again with the spaghetti afraido

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jockvillagersonly · 4 years ago

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Prompt Drabbles, #20

@humanlighthouse prompted me for HeiHua, “Im thinking either fake dating/honeypot, or XH gets mildly injured and a lot freaked out, and HXZ proves to be surprisingly competent at stitching and emotions? And XH feels comforted and it's WEIRD for him but also maybe he likes it? A little too much maybe?”

This is not at all what she asked for. Enjoy! 🥰 HeiHua are both involved in freelance espionage that will be thoroughly unexplained 🤩

> prompt me! | > all prompt fills

~*~*~*~*~*

Xiao Hua grimaced, stumbling down the dank side alley with a nose wrinkled against the sour smell of weeks-old trash and a hand pressed hard against the gash torn in his side. He recognized that the effort was mostly futile, his strength flagging too much for the blood flow to really be stemmed effectively. His fingers slipped, sliding in his own blood, catching on the jagged edges of one of his (now ruined) favorite shirts.

He was sure the bright red seeping out of him was leaving stunning patterns against the soft off white of the tee, but he really wasn’t in the position to appreciate the aesthetics.

This was why he hated taking jobs for the Nine Gates. It was never a simple in and out with them. Next time, he would refuse whatever ridiculously cushy reward they promised him.

(Xiao Hua knew this was a lie even as he thought it. He was the best, there was no shame in it, and the Nine Gates would never settle for less than the best.)

Xiao Hua stumbled, hand not clutched against his side flailing out to brace his slackening weight up. He knew he was well and truly fucked when he couldn’t even muster up the energy to wince at the obvious grime he’d landed in. His knees gave out, his eyesight blurred, and between one moment and the next, Xiao Hua hit the floor.

———

Consciousness came back to Xiao Hua in fits and starts. He smelled something (cheap cologne, his foggy brain contributed, helpful at last — the scent acrid and woodsy, layered almost thick enough to cover the undercurrent of spice, dangerous and primal and heavy on the tongue), and his front was shockingly warm. He wasn’t really sure where his arms or legs were, let alone the rest of him, and he was just about ready to panic when a calm, soothing voice crooned near his ear.

He couldn’t understand the words, couldn’t parse out the syllables, but something in those tones — drawled, slow and syrupy in Xiao Hua’s ears — had his back relaxing, vertebrae by vertebrae.

The voice laughed, a huffing chuckle that rang like a rumble of thunder across his aching bones. Xiao Hua was slipping under, too fast, consciousness whipping past, that single sound assuring his body of safety faster than his brain could keep up.

———-

Scratchy linen sheets against his chest, the cold mudge of ceramic against his mouth. Ice sluicing through the cartilage of his joints, a freezing gale in the space between his ribs.

Water, sloshing through his dry throat. Leather and skin, delicately wiping leftover drops from around his mouth.

The relentless return of foggy fuzz, pulling him back under — encompassing and dark but not threatening.

(Not yet, not here, not with that voice in his ear).

———-

This time, blessedly, Xiao Hua regained consciousness not in bursts but in one fell swoop, though awareness was slow to follow. He blinked, edges smoothed and blurred, trying to place meaning, context, anything to the garbled sensory information in his brain. He squinted, shrinking back against even the faint sunlight streaming through the window above his head. The movement, slight as it was, triggered a radiating pain in his side, and he gasped, entirely unwillingly — the sound punched out of him in a lapse Xiao Hua would be more embarrassed of if anyone was around to hear.

Ah, yes, it was coming back to him now. His cover getting blown, and then him escaping, shoes sliding against fancy marble as he ran. The familiar jarring thrum in his hand of his baton making contact, over and over, until someone snuck in a lucky hit.

Xiao Hua hissed, involuntarily, at the memory. He hated knife wounds, and he hated gut wounds the most — they were always so needlessly messy, and there were so many organs potentially involved. If he was going to be out of work for longer than a month because of this, he was going to murder whoever had leaked his presence at tonight’s party.

He had the skills to get away with it, too.

“Don’t worry, it just grazed the flesh. A couple stitches, courtesy of yours truly of course, and you’ll be back to new in 2 weeks or less!” And Xiao Hua had to fight to suppress an eye roll at the cheeky cheer in that voice, even as a part of him relaxed in relief, his most immediate concern neatly addressed.

“Most flesh wounds heal in 10 days. Are you so shitty at stitching that you need an extra 4?”

Across the room, Hei Xiazi stretched noncommittally and pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against (and, Xiao Hua realized with a jerk, just how long had he been there? He spared a moment to pray that the other man hadn’t heard his pained sounds earlier, or he would never hear the end of it). “Sorry, sir, extra stitches are an additional 300 yuan, and you weren’t awake enough to promise me payment,” Hei Xiazi’s mouth fell into its characteristic smirk, so fast that if Xiao Hua had been anyone else he would have missed the brief tightening of an inexplicable tension around the other man’s jaw. He couldn’t spare the time to wonder what had the unflappable Hei Xiazi worried, because the other man was continuing, “Speaking of, 500 yuan for an excellently timed, expert rescue of one blood loss patient! I do accept card, but cash is always preferred!”

Xiao Hua stared up at those black glasses, their owner’s face so wholly expressive despite them, and (for once) felt utterly unable to argue. He mustered enough energy to flap a hand at Hei Xiazi, brows furrowing even as he felt his eyes start to flutter closed.

He must have been more gone than he thought, because as he faded out he heard a whisper, suspiciously fond and confusingly relieved for a voice far too deep to be Xiuxiu’s, “Take backup with you next time, idiot.”

Xiao Hua murmured, assenting (to what, he wasn’t sure, mind already falling into the haze of sleep). He slept, insensate fingers curled around a gloved palm.

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otomegema · 3 years ago

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Title: Convergence Theory, ch. 3 summary: Transitional chapter GET. Aka, the one where reader meets Gojo's students a little more and I show off some of her powers and set up some future uh-- issues. That might effect the would-be couple. I'm just rolling with it. pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader rating: mature Ao3 Link (We are uh-- up to ch. 11 on Ao3 just fyi)

Weird did not even begin to describe the feeling that went through your chest and flipped in your stomach as you closed the door on your hotel room, bags in hand, and went downstairs to meet your new roommate in the lobby.

No.

New fiancé.

A fact Gojo was delighting in explaining to the hotel staff, animatedly conjuring from the depths of his mind some new bullshit on how you met. How he proposed. Some of the girls at the station were near puddles of envy. Others, happily told you how “lucky” you were as you handed off your keycard and checked out.

You had managed not to scowl the entire time, but just barely.

“You’re gonna have to send me a spreadsheet of all these lies just so I can keep up.” You muttered, swinging your bag into the open trunk of the car that had arrived to pick you both up. Oddly, the driver was not the same as the one from the other night. The man in question looked nervously in his rear view mirror, but also with an intense amount of curiosity.

“I already forgot um. Besides, not like we need one for the Gojo clan. They already know how we met.”

Gojo didn’t bother to get the door for you this time, sliding into the back seat without waiting for you to finish loading the car. You took your own spot, mirroring him in taking out your phone to check your latest messages. The driver would occasionally exchange looks with you in the mirror. You gave him a polite smile.

“Principal will wanna meet with you,” Gojo said abruptly, “I had my guys put in your rec already. Just let him know you want me as your mentor and when he brings me the request I’ll sign off.” Gojo didn’t even look up from his phone, “Old man will probably faint. I haven’t agreed to babysit anyone in—“

He paused, but only for a second.

“—Awhile!”

“Too busy?” You asked.

“Too much of a pain in the ass. And after, you can unpack your stuff at my place. I have a room on campus too, probably will spend the majority of my time there when I’m not on mission.”

“When we are not on mission.” You added with a smirk. Gojo sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. You enjoy this while it lasts, I’m already planning our next ‘date’ and you can bet before I’m done with planning the third one the family will demand a visit.” Gojo grinned, “When was the last time you’ve been?”

You groaned, the sound drawing a chuckle from Gojo. He knew damn well when the last time you were invited was.

“Do I get to plan any dates?”

He scoffed, “Why would you wanna?”

It was a fair point. You shrugged and turned to look out the window, admiring the view of trees and the greenery that surrounded Jujutsu Tech. Your days as a student were long over, but there was still so much protocol, so many hoops and tests and missions to jump through. If they had warned you being a sorcerer was like being a forever-student… maybe some of the others had it right. Ditching the school and the rules and wandering as independents. There was an allure to just throwing in the towel— but how would anything ever change if you just left?

You wondered if Gojo felt the same way, his personality not exactly meshing with the idea of a dutiful and obedient Jujutsu sorcerer. He was smiling lazily to himself as he typed on his phone and you found yourself content to just enjoy the silence.

The campus was not foreign to you and so you rebuffed Gojo’s offer to walk you in. Besides, if they came in together it might be too much of a tip off. There was no rule about the relation between a potential first-grade and their mentor, but given his tendency to rub the higher ups the wrong way, you didn’t want to risk any bumps. It was bad enough whoever that driver was had clearly heard you both talking. He seemed to be a staff member.

Passing through the halls though, you had the distinct feeling you were being watched— and definitely not by Gojo. If he was keeping tabs on you, you’d never know.

The cursed energy signatures were familiar, young and new, yet strong. You slid around a corner, barely flexing your Limitless to teleport around behind your spies, hiding out of sight.

“Wha— did we lose her?” The young boy with the pink hair gaped, rushing around the corner and then back, “I don’t see her!”

“Dummy, she probably heard you mouth breathing a mile away.” The girl muttered, slapping her fist into her hand with a disappointed grunt.

The other tall young man said nothing, his eyes drawn down into almost apathetic sleepiness.

“Why were we following her anyway?”

“Didnt you hear, Megumi? She is Gojo-sensei’s wife!”

“Fiancé, Yuji. Not wife.” The girl corrected.

“Fiancé, wife, girlfriend— whatever! Point is, how did we not know about her?! Who marries a guy like that anyway, she has to be crazy strong!!”

“She didn’t do so well on that last mission.” Megumi added, his voice flat. You winced slightly at his assessment. That was your cue. Shifting your energy, you appeared behind Megumi, forcing a tense, but still sufficiently bright smile unto your lips.

“That’s because my rat future-husband was busy showing off for his students!”

Megumi, to his credit, only stiffened. The other two openly shrieked at your arrival, the boy Yuji swiftly switching to an expression of awe.

“She moves like Gojo-sensei! I didn’t know she could do that!”

“Lots of people can do this… can’t believe he gets away with acting all high and mighty…” you grumbled.

You swore you heard a muffled sneeze from somewhere behind you, but your attention was suddenly wholly on Gojo’s two more animated students as they crowded into your space. Nobara Kugisaki— that was the girls name. And Itadori Yuji. The other boy you knew even before the mission was Megumi Fushiguro. Gojo’s longest running student and “ward” of a sort. Plus, he had affiliation with the Zenin. The Gojo clan liked to pretend it was as important, but even with the Six Eyes, there was no contest over which clan held the most power.

“Aren’t you a Gojo too? You have the Limitless right?” Yuji continued, smiling. This was Sukuna’s vessel? He seemed far too simple and far too sweet.

“Distantly. And yes.”

“That is so cool. You must be super strong.”

“I’m— I do okay.” You said, finding the praise a bit hard to accept. Sure in comparison to other third, fourth and even some of your fellow second-grade sorcerers you were notably talented— but how could anyone even judge such a thing when your true comparison was Gojo Satoru?

“When that curse hit ya? I thought— yikes. She is done for. But you barely had a mark on you!”

“Yeah, how did you dodge it? Oh! Can you do the thing?!” Nobara extended her hand, pressing her palm outward in what took you a minute to understand was a mimic of Gojo’s barrier technique.

You smiled faintly and lifted up your own hand. Nobara grinned as she tried to reach out and touch her fingertips to your own and she was stopped just short, hovering and wavering slightly in infinitely slowed movement.

“Neat.”

“I wanna try!” Yuji exclaimed and you happily demonstrated for the young man as well. Shockingly, you had to increase your output a little to repel him.

“I can’t have it up all the time, but it does help in a pinch.” You said and were surprised when Megumi finally spoke up.

“You make it sound like that somehow makes it less powerful.”

Had you? Your tone when talking about your abilities was always reserved. Cautious. You had no reason to gloat— no right to it. You masked your inner reflection behind a terse smile and offered your hand to Megumi.

“You wanna turn?”

The boy flushed.

“I’m… I’m good.”

“Are you going to be around campus today? Are you coming to our lesson?” Yuji asked, Nobara perking at the idea too.

“Maybe. I have to meet with the principal, but I’m sure I’ll see you all later.”

Satisfied with that, they wished you luck and departed, Nobara and Yuji falling again into animated conversation as Megumi steadily followed behind. It would be nice maybe to take part in a lesson or two… you hadn’t given the idea of teaching much thought, but just working with Gojo’s students you were starting to think you were getting the appeal of it.

Especially if you were one who loved to be adored, you thought with a scoff, wondering where Gojo had run off to if his students had been following you.

Dealing with principal Masamichi was a short affair. You accepted the recommendation news with humble gratitude and made your intention of being mentored by Gojo known. You were prepared to ignore the tension that seemed to permeate the atmosphere the moment you did so.

Masamichi simply stated he would let Yoshinobu know of the transfer. There would be no objections from Tokyo.

You could only imagine that your former principal would have something to say about all this— but he and the higher ups had done little to assist you in achieving first-grade status. Perhaps now they would realize they did not hold the keys to every door forward in their world.

Feeling strangely smug and self-satisfied, you left the office and set out to find the three students. It wasn’t difficult. Barely expanding your awareness of energy brought the familiar bright ray of Gojo into your mind. He was easy enough for you to find, you’d been doing it unwillingly all your life.

Near the outskirts of the woods that surrounded Jujutsu Tech you found Gojo shockingly studentless, sitting on the ground and playing what you could only imagine was an extremely high level of Candy Crush.

“Aren’t you suppose to be teaching?”

“I am! Kids are chasing a couple of third grade curses around the woods!”

“… and what are they learning?”

“Optimistically? How to dodge. Those things shoot out some kind of energy thing that definitely looks like it would sting.”

Gojo rapidly tapped across the screen, ending the level in record time before stashing his phone and leaning back on his palms. He tilted his head back at you with his usual smirk.

“You get your semi-grade one status?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” He stood, brushing off his pants, “Now we can start your lesson! But first, I wanna see your baseline.”

He cracked his knuckles and then lazily stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Hit me with your strongest technique.”

“…what, like right now? Now, now?” You shouldn’t have been surprised honestly, Gojo was a loose cannon in every sense of the word.

“Now, now, babe.”

You scowled, the furrowing of your brow only seeming to make him smile brighter.

“C’mon. You won’t get me and you know it. Just hit me with your best Limitless technique.”

“My best Limitless technique is non-combative.” You said wryly, wishing you had chosen to wear slacks that day instead of a skirt. Your own uniform was a modified version of the Jujutsu Tech one from your time spent as a sort of “adjunct” instructor. This was definitely not your practice outfit.

“Is it?” Gojo asked, humming thoughtfully. Was he being purposefully obtuse? Most likely, yes.

“Show me your best combative technique.”

You knew what he was getting at. Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue. It was, without utilizing reversals, the strongest technique a Limitless user could achieve— or at least Gojo had made it so. You could do it, sure, but you were not sure on how long you’d be standing upright after you did. All your previous attempts to master the technique usually ended in you taking a sudden and unplanned nap. At best, the output was a little weaker, but sometimes you could hold unto consciousness and only be tapped for the rest of the day.

“I’ll faint.” You said quietly and Gojo lifted his hand to cup his ear, grinning.

“What was that?”

You huffed, “I’ll faint.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“I’m sorry, is this your technique or mine?”

Gojo gave a small shrug, “Obviously mine. You're just a knock-off.”

“Ya know, I activated my Limitless abilities before you.”

“I mighta heard something like that once— Now hit me.” Gojo took a few steps back, crooking his finger at you, “Come on, come one. Don’t be so boring. I have to know what your capable of it you are going to come on missions with me.”

“This is a terrible idea.” You grumbled, but swung out your shoulders, breathing out slowly to mentally prepare yourself if anything.

“Maybe! But like I said, I gotta know just how weak you are.” Gojo said, mirth in his voice— and mocking.

“I’m not weak.” You snapped out before you could real in your tongue, feeling your neck flush.

“You just said you can’t even do the base technique of our ability without fainting.” Gojo gestured his hand out as he gave another little shrug, “Kinda seems super weak to me.”

“I’m not you.”

“Not with that attitude you aren’t."

Okay. Fine. He wanted you to hit him? You’d hit him. Your cursed energy had already flared up, irritation giving way to anger as you opened that channel within your memory and your emotions— focusing it until all that bitterness, all that rage was nothing more than a battery for you to use to fuel your own jujutsu.

You knew Gojo would be fine, but for a moment, you nearly faltered. Having someone ask you to basically collapse them apart with the cursed equivalent of a black hole? Not exactly a normal every day occurrence.

“C’mon! Stop thinking about hitting me and hit me! Unless you wanna renegotiate our deal… hell, maybe it would be easier for both of us if I just paid your rent instead. I don’t know how I’m gonna manage to get someone so pathetic to first-grade.”

You were going to kill him.

You were going to rip the eyes from his skull and spit them out at the dinner table of the main family, teeth and gums bloody.

“Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

The cursed energy ripped not out from your body, but in. Focusing around Gojo as it manipulated space, dividing it down to the negative and seeking out to rend him apart. The area of effect was like a circle, but you pinpointed at his eyes regardless. Targeting what excess energy was left to his face.

The blast of blue sent clouds of dirt and grass into the air— or what was once dirt and grass. Having been nearly crushed into nothing, the debris shot around in fine powdered ash. When the air cleared, Gojo was standing where he had been before, entirely untouched.

Except for his blindfold.

One end had twisted, the fabric swirling up so tightly it was risen up against his forehead and revealing one bright, blue eye. It had gotten caught in part in the curling shrinking energy of the technique, but not enough to destroy it.

You let out a breath, stunned to find you were still standing.

“See?” Gojo said cheerfully, “Just a little motivation and you—“

The last thing you saw before everything went black was the ground suddenly rushing up to your face.

The low painful rumble of your stomach woke you, awareness of your body coming back in small waves. There was something soft tucked under your head… and your legs were elevated, knees curled around something.

You opened your eyes to the bright, unforgiving sky above and groaned loudly.

“Rise and shine, honeybun.”

His very voice made you wanna faint again just to get away from him.

“Really. Honey bun. Here, eat.”

A packaged sweet was tossed unto your stomach and you sat up enough to recognize the thing your legs were swung over was Gojo’s own lap. His phone was in one hand, the familiar blips and tones of a game audible. His other was rested on your knee, pressing down to help support your efforts to sit up.

He had taken off his jacket and put it behind your head, the white sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up around his elbows. Judging by the absence of his blindfold and the return of his sunglasses, he hadn’t been able to save the item from your rending.

You flushed, attempting to pull your legs away and recognizing with a sharp sound that he could easily have seen up your skirt at that angle. Gojo’s hand tightened on your knee, keeping you in place.

“You should let your blood settle back before you try squirmin’ so much.”

If he had looked he did not make mention of it, focus fully on his game. Your stomach grumbled again and you tore open the honey bun packet and into the soft, sweet bread in short time.

“You really did faint.” Gojo said lowly, “Not the greatest. We’ll need to start with getting your cursed energy output higher. You can call on it in a pinch, sure, but it’d be better to have an ongoing source rather than relying on me teasing you into snapping off something halfway decent.”

“Ya know, anyone else and that move would have turned them into soup.” You said, not in the habit of defending yourself, but something about Gojo making the assessment set off your nerves. Why would he compare you to a level only he could achieve? It wasn’t fair.

“I know! I mean— it was good! Don’t get me wrong. Just not good. Blowing shit up is great and all but not if it blows you up with it. Leaves you vulnerable to reprisal if the curse isn’t alone.”

You shrugged, “I guess I just always figure if I take something out with that, if there is anything left the other sorcerers will get it.”

“… so it’s a sacrificial play, for you?”

You nodded. Gojo switched off his phone and shoved your legs off his lap, standing up. He didn’t offer you any help as you wobbled unto your own two feet.

“You got some serious hang ups.” Gojo said and you couldn’t very well argue.

He tugged his blindfold from his pocket, holding up the tattered piece of fabric for your inspection— as evidence. Your eyes widened. You didn’t realize until now the full extent of the damage, the way the cloth was shredded in the center as if a wild animal had tried to claw his eyes out. You had been so focused, so preoccupied… no wonder the damage wasn’t fully resembling of the true Lapse: Blue technique.

“Here. A souvenir.”

“… sorry.” You mumbled, reaching out to take it. Gojo quickly moved, pulling the blindfold from your reach at the last moment with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes and went to take it again only for him to repeat the same trick, earning a wary smile from you as you snatched at his hand and he allowed you to take it the third time.

“I never—“ Gojo began and stopped, humming to himself as he seemed to reconsider his words.

“What?”

“Well, I was just thinking I picked the best possible choice for this charade!” Gojo began, “It may really take you the whole year to fall for me.”

You smacked him with the torn piece of fabric, earning a startled “ow” from him and the satisfaction you must have caught him off guard to get through his barrier. You seemed to be able to do that a lot. Showed what he knew letting his powers wane around you.

“In the meanwhile, there is no time like the present! Let’s go!” Gojo reached out, grabbing your arm by the elbow before you could recoil away.

“Go—”

The forest disappeared, the world refocusing in the middle of Tokyo. The sounds of birds and wind replaced with the sound of tire treads on wet pavement and the faint, constant roar of the city scape.

“—where?”

Ah— yes.

To an abandoned apartment building.

That radiated cursed energy.

Of course.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #fic; convergence theory

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

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Thought about something cute like reader and 5sos singing on the same festival and she’s dating cal 😭 and they switch with her guitarist and drummer boy and at first she didn’t notice but they they start to have so much fun together at the stage dancing together and doing stupid shit them following her around as she tries to prevent herself from giggling too much and actually singing 🥺🥺 and later she walks down when 5sos are performing with crystal Kay and Sierra omg 😳

+ I’m sorry I’m annoying but part two to my last asks!! I just imagine calum being all heart eyes for her minding his own business tho playing his guitar but every time he doesn’t have to use vocals or his bass he caught her hand or keep her close and ahh singing wildflower to her!!’ When at first the girls just wanted to have fun on stage with them but Calum just keeps her close the whole time singing to her and her singing back with him and being all funny and giggly together ooof

Thanks for your suggestion! It took me a minute to get to it. I did combine it with a few other suggestions. One person asked for drama and someone asked for angst. And viola! Here it is.

This is the last part of the Distance series! I’ll do an epilogue if folks want to send in some suggestions for it! HUGE thanks to everyone that sent me ideas! This series wouldn’t be what is it without you guys!

Find the Distance series masterlist here! Here’s my main masterlist! CW: 18+ (Smut). Angst. Lots of Fluff.

Songs I played: Woman and From The Dining Table by Harry Styles!

Here it is at a WHOOPINg 9.6k. Enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

The release of her album is followed by a tour. At first, she’s excited. Her mind runs wild with possibilities. Her fingers can’t keep up fast enough with every wonder and question she sends to Calum and thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind the incessant buzzing. He takes each question in stride. It’s nice, in a way, for him to have the wisdom to give her. Like she doesn’t have to go in blind like he did, especially since it’s just her. He hopes he can make her feel a little less alone on the road. It can be a hard road to travel alone.

The glimmer starts to wear off fast. Rehearsals turn her into a zombie. She’s up fairly early stretching, taking her dog for a walk, trying to remind herself that everything’s going to fall into place like it needs to, but the second she walks into the rehearsal space it feels like everything is going to fall apart. That somehow everything she’s ever wanted on tour is just too much, too much out of the budget, too much because she doesn’t have the weight to her name just yet. And maybe it’s a lot of glitz and glamour. Maybe she is asking for too much. Maybe that would be her downfall.

Her phone buzzes. And she pauses, sitting on the floor with her mic in hand, and glances over to it. It’s Calum again. Another message that she won’t actually read until some ungodly hour in the night. He’s got to be up to his throat in worry. She can’t seem to think enough to text him back during the day. Too much is going on. She feels like she’s going to sink, just through the carpeted floor and through the concrete foundation and bury herself into the dirt. Maybe that would be a better fate for her.

She turns her attention back to her notebook, with the crude drawing she made when she was trying to set the stage. “Let’s just,” she sighs. “Let’s start from scratch.”

And it works. Though it’s long and arduous, she’s able to figure out how to set the stage, finalizing the neon design. There’s a rough draft at the video that will be playing behind her for a wardrobe change. By the time she’s able to crawl into her sheets, it’s nearly 1 am. There’s barely enough energy to keep her eyes open to send Calum an apology text. When she wakes, she grins at her dog waiting patiently at the side of her bed. “Ready to go, bubs?”

They give a tiny whine and rest their snout on the covers. She laughs, “Yeah, you’re ready to go.” She manages to brush her teeth and slips into a change of clothes before going out for a run.

Between showering and getting dressed, she checks her messages. Happy to hear that you got things straightened, baby. Reach out whenever you get a breather, reads the text from Calum.

She responds with a good morning text and then switches over to her email. At the top is an email with ‘urgent’ in the subject. She’s praying it’s not more bad news. She doesn’t quite have the heart to withstand more bad news after the progress they made yesterday. It’s details about a festival date in LA. That perfectly lines between her break between the European leg of the tour and the North America dates. She doesn’t even think twice about agreeing to the festival show.

Right as her day winds down, from a shockingly smooth day of rehearsals, Calum calls her. And though she’s drenched in sweat from the light choreography and running it for hours, she stops and answers. “Hey, baby.”

“Oh, she lives!”

“I know, I know. Sorry.”

“Only kidding. I know you’re hard at work. It’s just really good to hear your voice. How are rehearsals?”

“Really good now. Once we got over the hump, it’s like smooth sailing.”

“Good, I’m glad. I was calling. We got word a couple days ago about a festival show right when you’re on break between legs. And I was hoping you had some free time, just to hang out.”

She can’t contain the smile, leaning her head against the window. The evening twilight has already settled outside. “I’m joining that festival too. And we’ll be hanging out in LA for a few days for rehearsals and then shipping out. So absolutely, we can hang out. I miss your face. And Duke. God, I miss Duke.”

He laughs. Of course she emphasizes her longing for his dog over him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I really can’t wait to see you.” It falls from his lips in a whisper, a secret between the two of them that no one else can be in on. But the boys see it. Everytime his phone buzzes he does his best to look at it as soon as he can just in case it’s her. It’s harder to get out of bed, especially when he hasn’t talked to her in a while. “Can’t wait to kiss you again.”

“You’re a sap, you know.”

“But I’m your sap.”

She giggles, softly, watching cars whizz by. “Yeah, you are my sap.”

_________________________________

Her tour starts off well. And even though it’s her first time being out on the road like this, a constant bouncing around, and completely flipping her normal routine, she manages to cope pretty well. And it helps of course when she calls her friends, or talks to her dog. But it’s still definitely draining, pouring every bit of herself out on stage and then having just enough time to recoup before doing it all over again. There’s value in it, when the lights lift, and she can see the crowd that’s gathered just for her. It’s surreal and makes her feel like she could do this all the time. That the only thing she’d ever need is the sound of a crowd singing her songs back to her.

In her dressing room, she swaps the gold earrings for a pair of acrylic ones, these jade green. “You’re too quiet on me,” she says, flicking her gaze down to her tablet.

Calum picks his head up. “It’s hard to say much when perfection’s staring you in the face.”

She grins, hooking the earring back on. “Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”

“We just got word about two more festivals in the same week you have your break. One’s in LA still, the other one’s a little ways out.” There’s no need to fake the funk anymore, or hide it away. She has another three weeks of shows before her break. And maybe he expects her to fly off the handle. Maybe he expects her to throw a fit, about how they had made plans, and it’s the only time they’ll get for each other for months.

But she doesn’t. She nods, fingers twirling over her rings. “What are they others saying?”

“They’re itching to get back on stage. And from a business standpoint, it’s money in the pocket of course. But I know we made plans and I feel like an ass. But there’s also the band, too.”

“Our jobs aren’t easy,” she sighs. “Take the gigs.” Calum can see her eyes tearing up just a little. “Mind if tag along on the LA show?”

“Of course not. I’m really, really sorry, buttercup. I’m so sorry.”

She waves her hand, trying to keep the tears back. If they fall, they become real. It’s his job. Just like it’s hers. “I get it.” It’s tight as it leaves her throat. And it takes her a second, plus a few sips of water to get control of her emotions, and clear out all the tears that threaten to fall. He wishes he could say more, or do more. But it’s like the words die in his throat. And he’s left, mouth gaping, wishing and wanting, but unable to do anything.

“Does it look bad if I just forgo my heels tonight from the start? They’re killing my feet on stage,” she laughs.

It’s a small grin, upturns a corner of his mouth but doesn’t keep it up for long. “You usually end up kicking them off anyway, halfway through the show.”

“Someone’s been scrolling through my name on Twitter, huh?”

He does. Watching her is mesmerizing and he’s sad that he can’t get the chance to see it in person, so he resorts to the fan videos. But he’s yet to admit to it. “I do not do such a thing.” And there’s giggles. A fit of laughter as she looks over the outfits and plucks her oversize denim jacket and figures even in the shorts, she can make the docs Calum surprised her with work. So she slides into the worn red leather shoes and starts lacing them up.��

Calum whistles, heart racing just a little. He didn’t know those shoes had made the cut. “Look at you.”

She strikes a pose but laughs. “Do I look good?”

“You look fucking amazing, buttercup.”

__________________________

The sound of the crowd roaring before her ears turn on will always make her heart race. Calum said he would try to sneak side stage, but considering that he had to play on the mainstage right after her set on the side stage, it might not be for long. She didn’t mind that. But she hadn’t seen him. Not a blond crop in sight, of course if he hasn’t changed his hair since the last time. Her bassist strums the opening cord and it sends the crowd into a tizzy. With her guitar strapped around, she rolls out her neck, lining up.

As they walk out onto the stage, they launch right into the first song. She feels her fingers buzzing as she strums. But it feels good. The LA sun is hot but she kind of welcomes it versus the heat of the stage lights. There’s still a small breeze. It comes in waves for sure and she can tell that her pits are going to be soaked by song three. “How’s everybody doing?” she shouts into the mic.

There’s cheer in response and she laughs, hearing it reverb for just a moment. “That’s what I like to hear. Just want to say thank you for coming to see me play today. Your support truly means a lot to me.”

She continues on for just a few more seconds and right as she goes to introduce the fourth song of her set, everyone in the crowd starts to get rowdy. She thinks nothing of it, as the song starts. But she knows something is happening and she turns to check her drummer and in her spin, there’s Calum, her bassist’s bass slung over his shoulder, fingers sliding over the frets, plucking at the strings. Not that she doesn’t think Calum would go for a mint green bass on his own, but she hasn’t seen one in his collection just yet.

If it weren’t for the verse coming back up, she knows she would just stare. Singing into her mic, she throws a few glances over to him. Waiting as the harmony comes in and Calum slides up to the music, voice smooth in her inner ears, she almost melts right there on the spot. She hadn’t quite thought about the way his voice would sound with hers, but god, he harmonizes like an angel. She finishes the verse, with a small break before the chorus again. The stage is kind of small but while facing the crowd, she can’t quite see to her sides.

She knows though. She can almost sense when Calum approaches her. She giggles just a little into the mic, watching him smile at her. His head bobbing like it always does when he gets into whatever he’s playing or listening too. Calum plays next to her, watching the way the sweat trails down her forehead, but doesn’t streak an ounce of her makeup. He almost gives in, almost bends in to kiss her on the cheek, but he doesn’t. He lets her voice and the song carry him away, into his spin and up to the drummer’s stand. One foot on the riser, Calum bobs along, laughing at his expression, the raised eyebrow that says it all.

She gets a small break to watch the way Calum interacts with her band. Almost as if he’s known them just as long as she has. And in some ways, he probably has. She talks about Calum to them and talks about her band to Calum all the time. Once the song ends, Calum throws one hand in a tiny wave, before smiling over at her. “Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asks, away from the mic.

She shakes her head, sure that her cheeks will hurt after this. Laughing, she thanks Calum as he walks off stage. And she knows, she knows she shouldn’t. But she jogs after him, as her bassist comes back on, sending a smile over her shoulder too. It’s in that moment that it becomes clear, this was planned. Catching Calum right in the wings, she catches his wrist, tugging him in close before kissing him. It’s quick, but Calum’s heart races in his chest. She runs back out. “Sorry about that guys. I did not expect that.”

And as they get back to their set, Calum watches her for one more song, the way she dances around the stage. Their gazes lock just before he leaves and he blows a quick kiss, before his security are running him down the stage steps and across the festival grounds to get back to the mainstage in time. “How’d it go?” Michael asks.

“Well,” Calum grins, throwing his brown and black bass over his shoulder.

“Get any smooches?” Luke teases, smacking his lips together, while his arm is slung over Sierra’s shoulder.

“And if I did?”

“On stage?” Michael screeches.

“No, side stage. I almost kissed her on stage. But I didn’t want that all over the internet.” Considering that they aren’t official publically in any capacity, it would just cause more headache. Their set begins and Calum knows she has to run across the festival, so he’s not worried when by the time they step out and get three songs in, she hasn’t shown up at the side of the stage. And by the time, Calum regains consciousness enough to check again, there she is, standing off to the side, still in what she performed and breathing hard but she waves, gently from the side.

Out of reflex, once the chords are played, he gives a small wave in return. She returns the blown kiss from earlier and the other girls laugh softly at the action. “God, you guys are so fucking smitten with each other, it’s insane,” Sierra jokes.

There’s no denying it she knows. They’re like lovesick puppies and though it would normally annoy her, it’s nice. Without another word, she sips at her bottle of water and watches Calum, with all the laughs and grins he gives, pouring his soul out onto the stage.

And though the video calls, and the calls, work. They’re not quite enough. Her tour comes to an end, but just around the corner is Calum’s tour with the band. She think she might be able to sneak another week away before she starts working on her album, but then she gets asked to perform at some more festivals in her home country. And, who is she to turn that down? The more shows she plays, the more her name is out there, the more streams, and the merchandise is purchased. It becomes an endless wheel. Things just keep going, and going, and going and the whole time, she keeps looking for the breaks. For the thing that can put her life on pause and let her feel normal again.

Everytime she thinks she can get real time with Calum, it ends up short. He has something that comes up. She has something that comes in. It was the festival in LA and now her festival run. It’s his tour and her sophomore album. Why had she met Calum when she did? Was the universe playing a cruel joke on her? Was it taunting her that it could give her everything she wanted and then threatening to have it crumble? Sitting her hotel room, her phone shakes, another call from Calum. She doesn’t answer it, staring at the fridge in her room. She could get a drink. Wouldn’t be hard just take it from the mini fridge.

Her phone stops shaking. And then a minute later, it chimes, letting her know that a voice message has been left behind. The third one and more likely than not it’s from Calum. She wants this. She wants the relationship, but lately, it felt like there was no time. There was no time for anything. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t pause. And that’s all she wanted. That’s all she wants right now. She doesn’t want to open that voicemail to Calum pleading with her to answer. She wants to get back to when things were easier. And obviously, they were easier because they both had nothing to do.

Swiping her room key and her wallet, she heads down to the bar in the hotel. She orders herself a glass of wine. The glass makes a soft click as it settles down in front of her. She takes one sip. And it’s a little bitter, the red drier than she remembers it being. Soon the glass stares back at her and she can see her warped reflection. Would it just be easier for them to take things down a level? Is she afraid of hard work or more afraid of heartache?

With another two glasses of wine in her, she climbs back into the elevator and it takes her up, floor by floor until it digs and the doors slide open. The room is dark when she reenters like she left it the AC blasting. But she can see the blue light of her phone, on the desk, lighting up that corner of the room. Is it fair? If she wants to bolt, if she wants to cut ties so it makes things so much easier for them? Why couldn’t it be easy?

Calum’s sure he’s going to pull all his hair out. One moment, things are going good. They get a little tight for sure with their schedules never quite lining up to allow them more time together. But this is the third day in a row that he’s gone with nothing from her. No texts, not a returned call. Not even a meme in their Twitter thread. Nothing on her finsta. Her regular account post mainly about her upcoming shows. But he is as closed to being blocked without actually being blocked.

“Hey, I-I don’t know if something’s gone wrong. But please, please call me back. Or text me. Or send me a voice message. Something. Anything. Please? If I did anything, please let know what it was? I’m worried. Am I losing you?”

He ends the recording and sends it. Maybe he ought to stop reaching out so much. Should he wait for her to respond before sending more? But he doesn’t want to lose her? He doesn’t want to lose what they have. He hasn’t found it with anyone else in all his searching and even in his not searching. This fell into his lap and he can’t stand to lose it. Not when there had to be something to do to save it.

His phone sits for another day and half before she calls. He hands shake as he goes to answer it. He almost doesn’t want to answer it. His vegetable stir fry even threatens to come back up his throat. It’s not even burnt this time. But somewhere in his mind, somewhere deep, he had figured she wouldn’t ever call him back. He would be cursed to always wonder what went wrong. “Hey,” he breathes as he answers the call.

“Hey.” It’s croaky, like she might’ve been crying. And then it’s silent. Neither one of them are sure how to bring it up. Neither of them know how to ask what’s lingering between the two of them seems almost too much for words.

“Did I do something?”

“No,” she sighs. It would be easier if he had. It would be easier if she had. It would be easier if both of them were just bad for each other. “It’s just hard.”

“Talk to me. Let me in. We can figure it out.”

That’s the whole crux of her issue. She had let Calum in. She had let him so far in that it was starting to seem impossible to stay in her country and work. She had let him so far in that she wasn’t sure it would be possible to go months without seeing him properly. He was in everything, her bookshelves, her closet, her studio, her lyrics, her studio, in her sheets. Everything reminded her of him. And it just hurt in a way that she didn’t think being in love could hurt. In her silence, Calum continues on, “Let me look at something.” He scrolls through the emails, looking at the dates.

“How? How do we figure it out? On your tour, the only break you have in my country I’m in promo. And after that, you only get a day here or there. Everything’s so mismatched now.”

Calum blinks the tears that are stinging at his lower lash line. “Something’s gonna give.” Something has to give. There has to be something. Calum goes back to emails. What would be the magic code for them?

“I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

His throat jumps at her words, heart racing. “No, don’t say that. If you say that, I know what comes next.”

“Maybe it would just be easier, Calum.”

He is sick of it. Sick of things always blowing up in his face. But he can’t make her do something. He can’t make her take the words back, even if he wants her too. “We said there was an us.” It’s not accusorary as it falls from his lips. It just hurts. Things were going so well for so long, until time proved herself the ultimate judge yet again. “So what now?” The walls of his house start to push in closer on him.

“I’m not saying I never wanted more for us. I’m not saying that I want to cut you completely out of my life, Calum. I wanted so much more for us.”

“Me too. I want more for us.”

“Is now a good time though? Is now going to allow us more?”

Calum wants to laugh, it bubbles in his chest and he knows it’s delivery would be dry but he swallows it back down. “If you’re always waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll be waiting for a long time.”

“Maybe there’s a better time for us. Not a perfect one. Just a better one.”

“Maybe,” he whispers.

“You know, you’re in everything right? When you said to let you in, I couldn’t help but think that was my problem. You’re in my goddamn sheets. You’re in everything. When the sun rises, it’s like watching you smile. If you think I’m shutting you out, that I’m trying to save myself, I want you to know that I’m doing the exact opposite. I am drowning. In everything. In you. In whatever the fuck it means to be a musician. I am drowning and I can’t bear taking you down with me.”

He couldn’t possibly be in everything, not when she was in everything for him. In his journals, in the strings of his bass. When he sits down at a piano, he can’t help but think of the throaty notes that start the song she wrote about him. He can’t help but hear her voice, Brown irises and black tattoos. Maybe they were both drowning and couldn’t see anything but the water invading their own nostrils and lungs. “You’ll always be there,” Calum says, sniffling. The tears shock him, he hadn’t felt them until they’re running down his neck. He doesn’t even know where there is, but he feels it in the cavity of his chest.

_________________

That video is going to haunt him. And it’ll haunt her too. Whenever they see the videos and pictures of when Calum surprised her on stage it always shows just how fucking happy they were with each other. How things really were working for them. But right around the corner, right as she runs behind the edge of the stage, the world doesn’t see the kiss. They don’t see the tears that followed phone calls. They don’t see how schedules always seems to be running in parallel but never fucking intersectiong. That’s all they needed. Just one point to intersect, to meet again at, and maybe they would still be tagging each other in stupid memes. Maybe they would still be talking until crazy hours of the morning. Maybe they would still be writing small poems about each other and always posting them, but never saying who they were about.

Maybe if they just had the one chance to intersect again, her second album wouldn’t be about him. Maybe she could’ve talked about the way the clouds surf in the sky. Maybe she would have pondered the questions of existence without it being tied up in lost love. Maybe Calum would’ve had more to say in interviews. Maybe then, no one would ask him about his love life and it wouldn’t hurt to goddamn bad every time one of the other boys would jump in to save him. Maybe Calum wouldn’t feel like a rock sinking to the bottom of the river and seeing the sunlight just above him, but never having the willpower to push back up.

He hadn’t removed her number. Hadn’t unfollowed her on her finsta. Hadn’t blocked her on a goddamn platform. Because somehow that felt like a harsher step. Like a permanent close, like he was trying to erase who she was and what she had meant to him. It’s stupid, he knows. It’s insane and it’s not helping him in the slightest, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe part of it was that natural and sometimes detrimental curiosity if that person was suffering just like you. He wanted to know if she bled just like him, if her pain was just as vicious as his.

Calum watches the video loop back again. The way she bites her lower lip but runs after him. The crowd is still screaming. They are still cheering. They are still buzzing. After saving the tweet, he drafts a message to her: I know you’ve moved to New York. I hope you’re enjoying it. City makes you feel anonymous doesn’t it? I have two days off during this tour. Maybe we have our better time now? I’m sure by now you know all the best places in town for pizza. I could be down for some cheesy delights.

Should he send that? His fingers shake. What’s left for them after a year and a half? They’ve still supported each other. He retweets about all her singles and videos. She praises the band’s new music in interviews. They aren’t unknown to each other. But somehow they feel like two ghosts. There’s a glass wall between and they look at each other just in passing. They never touch. They never intersect again. Instead, he exits the messaging app, but doesn’t actually delete the words.

When he goes back to the message thread, about a week from their dates in New York, there’s no shock that the app hasn’t saved it. And he feels partially relieved. He exits the app again and goes back to his mindless scroll through Instagram. An app saved him this time.

There is nothing to save him though, when he walks into the green room and spies her shrugging a coat on. The New York mornings are a little cool to the start. His heart is now in his throat. He’s not sure if he should swallow it back down. “We can go,” Ashton says quietly, taking him back his arm gently.

And somehow, like her ears are tuned in on everything, she hears something like her name, something like a soft wisp of a voice. When she looks up and sees Calum, donned in all black, though his long lined jacket has some white stitching and embroidery, she’s sure she could melt into the floor. He still looks good. Still has the same quiet pout to his face that makes him look slightly less approachable but it changes in a heartbeat when he smiles. She grabs the strap to her bookbag purse.

She knows it was her that ended things. She knows that seeing Calum here in front of her, should make her feel embarrassed. But somehow, all she wants to do, all she’s ever wanted to do since that phone call is embrace him one last time. Tell him that he’s still handsome as ever. Promise him that she meant what she said, that he was and still is in everything. “C’mon. We gotta go,” her security tell her.

But all she can do is stare at Calum. Unzipping her purse, she finds the note, the letter she never had the courage to send him and with a deep breath, she walks over. Ashton looks like he could probably murder her. And she doesn’t blame him. She could never blame that instinct to protect the ones you love especially from the ones that hurt them the most. “I’m sorry,” she says, holding out the white envelope. “For everything. And if we don’t ever get that better time, know I’d only ever wish the best for you.”

Calum’s fingers barely grasp onto the note before she’s sidestepping him. The boys circle around him, like they’re just waiting for his word to pounce. She steps through the heavy glass door. And she’s leaving him again. She’s going to slip through his fingers. Again. Pushing through Luke and Michael, Calum swings open the door. “Wait!” he calls out.

She stops, spinning on her heels to face him again. Calum jogs down the corridor. All the offices have windows. Everyone is probably watching. With both hands cupping her face, letter between his fingers and all, he pulls her in close. “You’re not leaving me again. You’re not going to walk out my life a second time. Not without me putting up a hell of a fight.”

“You shouldn’t fight for me. Not after what I did.”

“Meet me tonight. Let’s actually talk about it. I’ve been holding so much inside and if, god forbid, if it’s not now if we had our shoot and we fucking blew it, at least I’ll know for sure.”

“Does 8 work for you?” She tries so hard not to wrap her hands around his wrist, not to slide it up his forearms and tug herself into his chest. And god, he still smells the same. Old Spice and Gain. It feels so right to press herself into his chest.

“Yeah,” he mumbles into the top of her head. It’s still the same scent as before in almost two years, he can’t even believe it.

She takes a step back, patting at her pockets and pulls out a pen. Pulling the envelope from his fingers, she scribbles down a name and address. “If this place is too far from your hotel, just call me.” He watches her, jotting down more numbers. “It’s my new US number.” While handing the infor back to him, she grins just a little. “Don’t lose it now.”

Calum laughs, remembering the first time she delivered that line to him. “I won’t. Promise.”

Dear Calum,

There’s no real way to say this that doesn’t make my chest feel like it’s been punched in. I shouldn’t have let you go. There was a way to make it all work. There was a way so that you and I could’ve pushed through. I was just too scared of things going too right, going too well. Maybe that sounds dumb. Or maybe that sounds insane. But the truth of the matter, I messed up. I’m sorry. And you don’t have to ever forgive me. You deserve the ability to move on. You deserve everything good that comes to you in the future. I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me. Even if our better time has passed.

You deserve to be happy.

Calum reads over the letter again. Still not sure how his lungs are still operating because he was positive all the air had been exhaled. It’s the fourth time he’s read it today. Since he had Michael read it out to him in the green room. He would’ve asked Ashton, but knew that Ashton would’ve told him not to worry, to keep moving forward. Because he had, in a way. He had thrown himself into music. He had tried to chase after her in other people. He had read all the books on poetry, and love, and philosophy. But something down in his gut told him that he would never let her go again if he got a second chance with her.

He looks at the date. She wrote it six months after everything went south. Maybe she forgot to send it. It had his name on it--just never fully addressed out though. She could’ve messaged him. Emailed. Called. Literally anything and he would’ve answered. But hadn’t she? What held her back? And just as he goes to read it over one more time, the door chimes open. He looks at his phone. Just as the time ticks over to 8. And when he glances over his shoulder, there she is. In the same jacket from before.

The little pizza shop isn’t too loud. Most people come in just to get their few slices and then dip right back out. She smiles, waving just a little before sliding onto the stool next to him. She points to the letter, that he hasn’t even moved to put up, “Sorry it’s not my best work. I thought about finding a synonym for happy but nothing fit right.”

With a breathy chuckle, Calum folds the letter up, slipping it into his pocket. “What do you recommend off the menu?”

“God, with this place, anything.”

They settle back down on the stools, paper plates not fully supporting the extra large slices and a stack of napkins between them. The grease runs down his chin and Calum feels it rolling too. But his hands are full trying to keep his slice from falling. She laughs, dabbing at his face with a napkin. “I still see you’re the messiest eater around.”

“Hey, hey, it’s not my fault,” he grins. Their giggles dissipate as the bell chimes again, a signal of another patron entering. “What happened?” The question doesn’t feel full enough, doesn’t feel like it fully encapsulates all the confusion he holds. But yet, those are the only words he has.

“A lot started happening all at once. Your tour, my second album. More shows. It just-I felt like I couldn’t breathe. That I wasn’t a person. And maybe part of it was selfish. Maybe I was trying to save myself all along and I was just telling myself and you that I wasn’t selfish. I really am sorry. Like, if I had known, god if I had known that doing that would’ve caused all the pain it did, trust me, I wouldn’t have. If I could go back and tell myself, that crazy shit happens and you just gotta learn how to keep your cool, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It was a mistake letting you go. But at the same time, reaching out felt wrong too. Like I would’ve been ruining the peace you had created for yourself. And I didn’t want to do that either.”

“You know, I felt like we had something different. Like that was really going to be it for me and I had finally figured out this whole being in love thing. That I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. And maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I saw something happening and didn’t do anything.”

“We were living continents away. With everything happening, you weren’t seeing all of it. No need to blame yourself.” She takes his hand, slipping her fingers between his, twisting at the silver band around his middle finger. “I do want you to be happy, Calum. I want you to be so happy it just can’t be contained.”

“I was with you.” He squeezes her hand, willing her to look at him and not the street in front of them, through the glass.

“I’m still not in L.A.”

“But you are in the same country as me now and I will take that.”

“You’d still take me back after everything?” When she looks at him, brows furrowed together, Calum knows he’s a goner. He always was with her.

“I would.”

“You’d be crazy.”

“I am already crazy. Because I’m tempted to ask you where you’re staying and if I could stay the night.”

He’s leaned in to her, just a hair. And she leans in too, resting mostly shoulder to shoulder. “You are crazy,” she laughs softly, taking in the reflection of the neon lights on the street. “But maybe I’m also crazy too.”

The night is cool again. Both of their boots scuff the concrete. She doesn’t stay far from the small diner, a ten minute walk really. With fingers threaded through each other, they walk huddled close up the sidewalks. The wind whips across their faces. They dodge piles of trash on the edge of the sidewalks and they keep their heads down so as to not attract a crowd. “How do you like New York? Got to be a huge shock?”

“It most definitely is. I like feeling anonymous here. With so many people around.”

“I know you said you don’t do well with people and New York feels like the opposite of the place you want to. Especially not in the city.”

“I mean, I still don’t do great with people. I’m in the city for the time being. But I have my eye on a few places further out. But after everything, I felt less lonely here. I don’t know. No one cared about who I was. No one cared what the fuck I was doing here. And I liked it better that way. Back home, everyone knew. Everyone looked at me like I was a broken vase. Here, no one gave a shit. It’s move or be moved here. Forced me to come to terms with everything. Forced me to accept everything I was trying to hide.”

“Do you need to go to your hotel? Grab or bag or something?” She asks just before they pass the opening for the subway.

“I have my roomkey. It’s all good. All the interviews were today.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

He gives her hand another squeeze. “I’m sure.” They reach the door to the complex and she digs out her keys, opening the front door. Calum follows her through the second set of doors. The elevator is a little janky as it carries them up, and definitely tiny. In the space, they’re pressed chest to chest. There are a few extra lines around her eyes, he notices and runs the pad of his thumb over the skin. It’s just as soft as it’s always been. She feels so familiar under his touch, yet so new.

It’s not a far ascent and she laughs when he pouts as she pulls away. “Just like four more steps.”

It’s true to word, when they step out of the elevator, her door is directly in front of it. Her keys jingle just a little as she works the lock and pushes into the chipping red paint of the door. Her dog leaps from the couch, greeting her and then barking just a little when they spot Calum. He laughs, kneeling to hug them to his chest. “You still remember me, huh?” he laughs, as they attempt to lick his face and jaw. “Oh, too long, I know. Sorry, bubs. Didn’t forget about you.”

She takes his jacket, hanging it by the door. “Want anything to drink?”

Calum shakes his head from her couch, working at his shoes. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She nods, watching as her dog claims Calum’s attention. But she can’t find an ounce of herself to be mad or annoyed. So she slips out of her shoes and puts them up, before getting herself a bottle of water. When she settles onto the couch, she just laughs at the antics. Calum keeps trying to say something but at every twist, her dog is right there, plopping themselves in his lap. Calum eventually gives up and wraps his arms around their body, scratching lightly at their fur.

“Someone missed you too,” she teases, putting her two fingers really close together. “Just a tiny bit.”

His laughter echoes in her head. “Yeah, clearly just a little.” He lifts his head just a little when he feels the wet tongue at his chin. “So, you’re working on your third album?”

“On and off,” she admits. “Playing more shows than anything for the time being. I don’t have to think. Everytime I think too much I end up fucking something up. So I’m just taking it easy for the time being. Taking some brand deals.”

“You’ve got a collab coming out soon, right?”

She nods at the question, laughing as her dog finally settles down. “Yeah, next month. I’ve always lived kind of a boring life, you know that.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know.” He can finally shift, as her dog wanders over to the water bowl, so that he can sit in front of her. It’s a dangerous game. He’s played it before with her. But he takes her chin into his hands. “We haven’t really talked in a while.”

“Is there something you want to say, Calum?”

“Yeah,” he returns simply. Her breath hitches, eyes searching his brown ones for something, anything that tells her what’s going on. “I wonder if your lips still feel the same. I always thought about the way you’d laugh sometimes into a kiss. And it used to haunt me. But right now, I want to find out if anything else has changed.”

She wastes no time, pushing up and sealing her mouth around his. His hand slides to the back of her neck and she pulls at the collar of his shirt. They fall into each other, then falling into the arm of the couch. She exhales her laughter, still pecking at Calum’s lip. Her fingers tease the skin of his upper chest and neck.

“I was right,” he grins.

She hooks her finger around the gold plate. “I guess you were.” She pulls him back in for another kiss, slipping her hands into his hair.

As his lips trail over her jaw and down to her neck, she thinks about the time at her apartment back home, Calum woke her up with kisses down her jaw. They still feel the same. Maybe even a little bit better. His finger push up the hem of her shirt, squeezing at the flesh of her side. She sighs and Calum groans at the sound. It sets off everything in his body when he hears her quiet noises of pleasure.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pulling away to look at her as his fingers brush over her skin. “I don’t want to push you or take things too fast this time.”

Being with Calum feels like no time has past, if she’s honest. She doesn’t have the butterflies, just the comfort of someone she’s known for a year. And it sort of feels like they’re picking back up from where they left off. “I’m okay with it.”

He grins and she sees it--that rising sun in the gleam. His forehead rests against her. “I kinda feel like we have a lot of lost time to make up for.” His lips brush just over hers as he speaks.

She exhales her laughter again, but agrees. “Just a little bit. I really am sorry.”

“We all make mistakes. You just have to communicate with me, okay? That’s all. Talk to me this time. If you feel like you’re drowning, let me help. Please.”

She pushes up and Calum settles back down into the cushion, taking her hands into his. “I know things won’t be like, perfect now. But I guess, it’s really important that we do get to spend quality time together.”

“It is. And I know my tour schedule is pretty packed right now, but there’s another longer break in about three weeks. They’re LA shows. I don’t know if you have plans, but if you do, we can hang out then.”

She has to laugh because here’s the trouble all over again. “Booked recording sessions then.”

“Okay, well, the week after that is the break between legs. What are you doing then?”

“Nothing.” There’s a break between sessions, and she had just planned to use the time to breathe.

“I’ll fly you out then. Just you and I and my rehearsals. But that’s besides the point.”

Laughing, she rests her head into his bicep. “Just you, I, and your rehearsals. Got it.”

“We’ll have to better plan out things, that’s all. We’ll have to look at both our schedules and make sure that there’s sufficient breaks and time together.” He guides her head up. “I want you. And I mean all of you. I can’t stand to lose you again.”

“I just have to make sure Ashton doesn’t kill me.”

“He’s protective, yes. But not an evil. I’ll talk to him. Don’t you worry.”

“He did write a whole song about how he’d bury a body for you. So I think I have a little bit to worry about.”

Calum laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe just a little bit.” Her grin makes him want to bottle it. He wants to carry it with him in his pocket. Leaning closer, he kisses her again. “But right now, it’s just you and I. There’s nothing else but time for us right now.”

She hums. “I like the sound of that.”

Fingers trail back under shirts. She drinks down his moans as they tease, barely touch. Calum’s shirt is discarded in the living room and her is pulled off in the hallway. Calum holds her face in his hands, memorizing the way her teeth sink into his bottom lip in the gentle nip. He moans. Fuck, she feels so good against him.

Her spine shivers as his fingers trail to her back and unsnap the band of her bra. As the fabric falls from her shoulders and she tosses it somewhere, Calum takes a hand just to cup her. His fingers roll the erect bud and she sighs again, mouth falling slack against his. He laughs. “Hmm, that’s right. Someone does like their nipples played with.”

She grins though, blinking open her eyes. “Don’t think I forgot that you don’t listening to rules and like a little pain.”

Finding her waist with both hands, Calum holds her in close. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She bends her knees, just a little and with hot and open mouth kisses she trails down his chest before taking her teeth into the meat of his peck. Calum jolts, a grunt falling over his lips and throat. “I would dare,” she returns.

They fall into her sheets, the same golden ones from before. They’re just as soft against Calum’s skin. It’s warm, as their skin heats up. Her skirt has landed somewhere to the floor and Calum pushes his hips up as she shrugs the denim down. She kisses over his thighs, moaning just a little. Calum lets his eyes flutter close at her soft kisses.

Everything just feels right. Even as Calum takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue teasing her just a little. Or when she kisses over his length. But right now, she tosses her head back when Calum pries her legs open kissing up her inner thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispers, watching as she clenches, more of her arousal leaking from her.

She huffs, pulling a hand through her hair. “You sure do know how to make a girl sweat.”

“It’s a speciality,” he laughs with a wink before kissing her clit. She balls on fist around her sheets, stomach completely clenched. The last thing she wants is to have to wait much longer for anything. The anticipation can be a good thing, though she’s doing everything she can to keep her cool. That is, until Calum finally takes the first lap from her and she unravels, a moan leaving her throat as it mixes with a whine.

He takes his time, pushing her thighs and knees to give him all the access he could ever want. Calum licks another stripe over her, before sucking her clit into his mouth. She taste better than he could’ve ever imagined. Every sound she gives--moans, groans, or a whine--rattles in his brain and spurs him on. One of her hands finds it’s way into his hair and she tries to push up with her hips and his face down into her core. But it’s not like he needs the assistance or the reminder. When he trails down to her opening, his nose brushes over her clit and her body is reeling.

“Oh, fuck,” she whines, feeling the coil in her lower gut tightening.

Calum hums at the sounds, and when she praises him, tells him that he’s the only one to make her feel this fucking food, he rewards, slipping a finger into the mix, pushing up into her. “Is that so?” he asks, watching her head dive deeper into the pillows.

“God, Calum,” she huffs.

Another finger finds it way inside, pushing and curling in all the right places. Her body feels like it’s on fire. She feels like she’s a coil so tightly wound she’s going to break. His tongue flicks across her click, lapping at her. And that’s it, that’s the right combination to send her over the edge. Over she goes, with a yelp, her orgasm rocking her frame and toes curling as she cries out for Calum.

He keeps her going, keeps curling his fingers at her. So lost in the way she sounds. And when the huffs turn into a hiss, he pulls back. She beckons him up, kissing him and tasting her own arousal coating his lips and tongue. He’s careful not to settle fully against her, but it’s quickly changed when her legs come up and lock around his waist. “I’m not gonna break,” she laughs, when he finally let’s go and sinks into her.

She swallows his response with a kiss but it doesn’t matter anyway. Her hips come up and Calum rolls onto his back, letting her settle atop him. Her nails rake down his skin and she sucks at his neck, he’s sure it’ll bruise just a little but it’s okay with him. His nails dig into the flesh of her hips, not sure if he wants the friction right now or if he just needed to revel in the feeling of her against him.

“Shit,” he whines when she rocks over him. “I-fuck.”

She laughs, pulling away to reach into her drawer. “That sounds about right.”

Calum delivers a swift swat to her ass at the joke, but laughs anyway. “That is not funny.”

“Then why are you laughing.” When she turns her attention back to him, condom in hand. She stretches down to kiss him again. “Did I ever tell you you’re not the only one that likes a little pain?”

His eyebrows arches and he smooths over her ass before delivering another spank to her opposite cheek. She sighs, eyes fluttering close just a little. “Oh, buttercup, you should’ve never told me that.”

“We can save it for another time? Because right now the only thing I can think about is riding you until the sun rises.”

Kneading at her breast, Calum grins. “Now, that sounds about right.”

There’s a moment, right as she settles down on him fully, that they both moan at the feeling. Calum because of the warmth and slickness, her because of the stretch. Her head is dizzy again with need. She steadies herself with her hands planted on his chest and rocks. All she can focus on is the girth of him, stretching her completely open. It makes her toes tingle and she falters, falling into his chest, but starts a new cadence, pulling up and settling back down on his length.

“Holy shit,” he huffs. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and Calum coaxes her out, to look at him. “You don’t get to hide from me, not again. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

Her hips are still rocking but she nods, eyes fluttering close just for a moment. Calum kisses her, and it’s his turn to swallow down the moan she feeds him. She pushes back up, pulling her own breast between her fingers. Calum loses the top of his head, he’s sure, watching as she rides him. His fingers trail over her hips, up to her stomach. “Why’d you have to be so handsome?” she teases breathy.

He’s not sure how to respond. Unsure of the heat he feels is a blush or the sweltering of arousal flooding his body. She takes one of his hands, trailing it towards her heat. And Calum takes the hint, thumb circling the bundle of nerves. Her head falls back on her neck as a hum builds in her chest. Calum kneads at her right breast, pulling and pushing at every button he can to have orgasm again for him.

A high pitched squeak falls from her. The bed taps against the wall, but neither one of them really cares. Her orgasm washes over it, like a wave crashing into the shoreline. She shudders, clenching around him and falls again into his chest, but pushes up onto her elbows, remember Calum’s early demand. “Fuck,” she whines when he starts to fuck up into her. He pulls her body up and she’s useless, body still like jello from her orgasm. Her words catch in her throat.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into her ear when she bites down onto his shoulder. “You know I like the pain.”

“Feel so good,” she returns. “Calum, shit, you feel so good.” His hips start to stutter, trying to ride out for longer, but knowing that inevitably he’s at the end of his rope. She kisses over his neck. “Cum for me, yeah? Please.”

Who is he to deny her? Who is he she to defy her? He ruts up once, twice, and she clenches hard, taking most of the wind of his third thrust but he cums hard, arms squeezing her to his chest and he knows he’s loud in her ear as he groans. Though, it’s suspected that’s just the sound she wanted to hear as she seals his mouth with hers.

Calum wraps the towel around his waist. She’s already under the cover, with them flipped down for him. She pats the spot in the mattress. He can see some of the hickies covering her chest that he left behind. Without much thought, Calum dries off a bit more and then slips between the sheets. “Hey,” she whispers. “Come here often?”

“My first time actually. But the first of many, I hope.”

Her nose scrunches as Calum taps it. “Yeah, of many. I brought your phone into the room. Put it on my spare charger. And I know that it’ll go off at 5:55 AM. No, you don’t have to turn it off. I know it’s important to you.”

“You--you still remember that?

“I don’t know if you really remember. But when I said that you were in everything, you were everywhere. I meant it.” She turns to her back, the sheets tucked up to her chin. Both of them are bare beneath them.

Calum’s taken up drawing random patterns on her stomach as he holds himself up on his elbow, facing her. “I remember. Could never forget that.”

“Guess we might’ve meant for something more, something better.” Her voice is soft. The blinds in her window let the lights of the city in. Nothing about it is quiet as sirens pass by. Calum lets his head fall into her pillows. She turns, both of them now facing each other again. Her arm slides over his waist. He throws one of his legs over hers.

She’s content like this, where she can kiss across the tattoos on his chest. Though she can’t really see the one just under his peck, she thinks about the question poised there. Why would she choose anything other than Calum? It remains quiet for a while and she thinks he’s fallen asleep until his chest rumbles.

“We were. It was just a matter of getting there. Finding the right path for us.” He’s positive, as she shuffles in a little closer that this is it for him. And if he has to fight hell, heaven, or high water, he’d do it all for her.

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silyabeeodess · 3 years ago

Note

Have you brainstormed anything with Finn in Orchid Bay? (You could imply that he was forced to retreat to Townsville after Ooo got heavily infected.)

I think I've only touched anything specific to Adventure Time so far through a couple of short fanfics I wrote during Retro's final event. I still have much of the same ideas I had then, but for the sake of adjusting things to the Academy version of the game, certain events may possibly differ. Similarly, given how Finn's model still has both arms, as of now, other than hints of what would come later, I don't think I can count anything beyond the events of most of Season 5--specifically Season 6's episode "Escape from the Citadel"--as having occurred prior to his appearance in FusionFall. All that said, headcanons diving into Ooo's situation and Finn in-particular will be below the cut:

· Like most other isolated parts of the world, Ooo suffered one of the hardest blows when the invasion hit. It already had severely-limited contact with the rest of Earth due to the land’s history and various dangers in the seas surrounding it, and if it weren’t for a few, clever individuals maintaining communications, the people of Ooo would’ve been on their own. Even still, it took a while for them to join the global war effort, evacuate civilians out, and push soldiers in—meaning that fusion matter has spread wide across its kingdoms.

· Despite this, the people of Ooo lasted longer by themselves than anyone would’ve guessed. It’s believed that this could be thanks to many of its people having a shockingly strong grasp of Imaginary Energy (IE) even though they don’t understand/use the concept the same way others do. Examples of people in Ooo using IE would include the Ice King’s imagination zone as seen in the episode “What is Life?” and Finn and Jake’s use of it during the chaotic events of “Rainy Day Daydream.”

· Unfortunately for Finn the Human, he still doesn’t like to use his imagination very much. He doesn’t play around with it often, so his IE isn’t as strong as others and he isn’t as resistant to fusion matter exposure. This has made battling fusion monsters one of the hardest trials for him to go through in his early years as a hero. Since Ooo has reconnected with the rest of the world, his way of working around this has been to rely on more advanced tech and weaponry that helps channel his IE. He’s collected over half a dozen new melee weapons as a result and eagerly looks for new ones.

· Since Ooo is still in a pretty bad situation, Finn didn’t like the idea of leaving it behind. However, one of the areas hit the worst by the invasion was the Ice Kingdom—with the Ice King himself somehow catching Fuse’s attention as a target. The monarch needed to be placed somewhere safer under the fusion fighters’ protection, but immediately began causing trouble as soon as he got to Orchid Bay. Finn and Jake were sent with him to help keep an eye on him until everyone adjusts, as well as assist in transactions between Ooo’s fusion fighters and the main force. It took time for Finn to relax and accept that the other soldiers would fiercely defend his home in his place.

· Since then, Finn has taken an even bigger role in the war effort by helping train new recruits at the Academy and offering himself as a model for nanos. He’s also had the opportunity to meet a wide range of heroes that he never would’ve even heard of before leaving Ooo, giving him the chance to branch out more as a young hero himself.

· Finn’s nanos quickly gained popularity among soldiers for their charisma and strength on the battlefield as well as their model’s growing reputation. They’re extremely devoted; however, their main con is that they can also share Finn’s impulsive streak. Still, most fusion fighters have a pretty easy time working with them.

· Finn stays pretty busy, so he doesn’t get to help out with his nanos as much as he would like, but when he does have the time, he’ll help them train like any other recruit. While he doesn’t feel too much of a personal connection to them, the thought that the nanos’ presence act as a small way of helping fight and defend where he himself can’t be is a big relief.

· Due to FusionFall existing in a much different world than Adventure Time’s, as well as because of the timeline of events, Finn’s experience with other humans is separate from that of his show counterpart. Susan Strong is the still the first other human he met, but he was more aware that others existed earlier on—just not in/around Ooo. (The islands exist, but he hasn't visited them yet.) Finn wondered if it was possible that he was born somewhere else and that he might learn about his background during the war. However, because Finn has extremely dark eyes with a smaller, circular shape, a trait only common to people from Ooo, it’s highly unlikely for him to have relatives outside of there. Travelling to a human-dominant civilization came as a giant shock to him, and while he has largely adjusted, he can still get self-conscious around others from time to time.

· Finn knows Johnny Bravo from meeting him in Orchid Bay, with the latter giving him some tips on how to flirt with girls. Thankfully, Finn’s smart enough not to listen to him.

#ask #nicotoba-ra #fusionfall #headcanons #video games

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isabilightwood · 4 years ago

Text

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 5

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

AO3[1][2][3][4]

Wen Qing knocked the mortar and pestle to the ground as she jumped to her feet, the red-orange powder scattering across the ground.

Belatedly, Jiang Yanli realized she had stepped into view.

“Who are you?” Wen Qing demanded, reflexively reaching into her sleeve for a needle. She came up empty. “This is a warded house. You can’t be here.”

Wen Qing was wan and pale, like the sun had not touched her skin in long years. Dark circles ringed her eyes, though cultivators could manage on little sleep. A woman for whom the nightmare of their youth had never ended.

“I -” Jiang Yanli’s voice caught, and she pressed her hands to her throat. Her umbrella dropped to the ground, and the downpour rapidly soaked her through. “You’re alive.”

“How did you get through the wards?” She demanded again, scrutinizing Jiang Yanli as though trying to place her.

She must be wondering why a Jin is happy to see a Wen alive. Qin Su cut through her shock.

Her thoughts inched into motion, like wading through the muddy shallows of a lake after a long day in the unforgiving sun.

Of course. Wen Qing was not trying to place Jiang Yanli, but Qin Su, who she had never met. She should say something, to allay her fears. Something, anything to explain. But she could do nothing but stare at those suspicious eyes, in that impossible face.

A stirring of air against her neck heralded Nie Huaisang’s arrival at her side. “Wen Qing? Now this is a surprise.”

Wen Qing laughed, harsh and rough, like she hadn’t had reason to in a long time. “Six years in the same rooms and I’ve finally lost it. Nie Huaisang is not standing outside my prison.”

“Nie Huaisang is standing outside your prison.” He swept his fan outwards, giving a shallow bow.

Wen Qing considered this, and let her shoulders slump. “Ok, then. Who are you?”

Jiang Yanli hesitated.

Maybe you shouldn’t have this conversation out in the open. What if a servant comes by with dinner, or something? Qin Su suggested, gently coaxing. Jiang Yanli was reminded that though she usually thought of her like a shimei, Qin Su had been a mother. And from how the young disciples ran to her excitedly, trusting and curious, she had been a good one. However acerbic she might have become, Qin Su still had a good heart.

Qin Su flinched, and closed herself off even as Jiang Yanli gathered herself together. And so she did not hear Jiang Yanli wonder if the same could be said for her.

“Before I say, may I come inside? If anyone comes by...” She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a servant dash past, carrying a lidded tray, unprotected under the rain.

Wen Qing studied her, and Jiang Yanli stared back, unblinking. Finally, she sighed.

“You might as well. But I’m not making you tea.” Wen Qing agreed, shockingly apathetic. Though Wen Qin had often pretended indifference, it had never felt like she meant it before. Now, she accepted an apparent stranger with unknown motives entering her room like it was nothing.

Once, in the calm before the storm after the Sunshot Campaign, A-Xian had joked that if someone tried to kill him, it would be the most interesting thing to happen that week. When he saw how distressed the idea made her, he’d rushed to assure her he didn’t actually want to be assassinated, and never repeated the sentiment. But it had been the truest thing he’d said in those months.

In spirit, this felt the same.

“And you’re going to sit on a towel.” Only as Wen Qing spoke did she realize rivulets of water were dripping from her hem and sleeves, and the pins in her hair dragged heavily at her scalp.

In her own body, Jiang Yanli would have spent the next week lying fevered in bed at least. Now, she would simply have to change before returning to the conference.

Reaching into a cabinet, Wen Qing retrieved not one, but an armful of towels, and lay them out as Jiang Yanli maneuvered herself over the windowsill. As she retreated to her desk, Jiang Yanli dripped her way into a seat on the towel across from her.

Nie Huaisang perched on the windowsill, one leg hanging outside. He, unlike her, had remained mostly dry. “I’ll keep watch,” he said, though he posed like he expected to model for a painting.

But then, maybe Wen Qing was his witness, and he was lying. She couldn’t be sure. The fact that they were both liars did not mean he would be honest with her.

“Explain.” Wen Qing demanded, folding her arms and setting her jaw in a way that did not scream willingness to listen.

And there was the question. Was it safe to reveal her identity? Was it any more dangerous to tell Wen Qing she was Jiang Yanli than Qin Su? If there was a chance she would tell Jin Guangyao, either would crumble her nascent plans, and she’d be lucky to flee to Yunmeng with her life.

Yet she did not believe that Wen Qing would ever be won over by Jin Guangyao’s act.

Well. Wen Qing had always appreciated bluntness. She’d grown up in a snake den, and could smell deceit from a mile away. If Jiang Yanli wanted Wen Qing to trust her, there was only one option.

“I’m a dead woman in a living woman’s body. This,” She gestured at her face. “Is Qin Su, Jin-furen. As for me, you once sheltered my brothers and I at your Wen Ning’s request, and it cost you everything.”

An inscrutable collection of emotions passed over Wen Qing’s face, settling on anger. “That isn’t po—” She cut off, jerking back.

“So you know it is possible.”

Wen Qing’s brows narrowed further. “Prove it.”

And — that was a problem. Nie Huaisang had caught her in a slip of the tongue. That would not work with Wen Qing. She couldn’t say which stories A-Xian might have told her, or which might have entered common knowledge. She and Wen Qing had been friendly, but not close. “It’s not well known that you helped my brothers and me. But if anyone was actually listening...”

“I did,” Nie Huaisang volunteered, grimacing as he once again admitted to possessing knowledge. “I imagine your late husband’s friends do as well.

These are trying times for him. Qin Su, who had been slowly emerging, surfaced fully to say. If people know he uses his brain, they might expect things from him.

Her guard frayed from recent revelations, Jiang Yanli giggled aloud. “Sorry, Qin Su said something.” And I’m sorry to you as well, she told Qin Su, though she could read the feeling within her.

Qin Su’s exaggerated good humor deflated. I can’t keep running away from him — from the memory of my son forever.

“A joke at my expense, no doubt.” Nie Huaisang tilted his head back to rest on the frame, his mouth curled upwards.

“Did you say Qin Su is within you? But —” Wen Qing snapped her jaw shut.

“That’s not how the array works? Yes, I noticed that. Nevertheless, here we are.” Her hands fisted in her soaked robes, replacing body-warmed fabric with the cold drape of her skirts. Shivering again, she forced her hands to let go, and smoothed out the fabric. “But you wanted proof.”

Wen Qin nodded sharply, retrieving a worn, threadbare red pouch that had been hidden behind the pile of books. She clutched it in her hands.

Jiang Yanli had not, yet, thought of anything truly conclusive to offer. “Anyone could guess we mostly spoke about our brothers, under the circumstances. I must confess those days are something of a blur, thanks to my fever.”

“That doesn’t prove your identity, no.” Wen Qing agreed shortly, but Jiang Yanli barely registered her tone.

The open book to Wen Qing’s left was new, a half-labeled diagram of a person’s meridians on the page. A still wet brush and bowl of ink sat nearby. She didn’t recognize the herbs that had spilled from the mortar, despite her experience in both cooking and field medicine. But the stack of thin volumes with deteriorating bindings were too low quality for even a non-cultivating Jin servant to purchase.

Yet she had seen their like in Koi Tower before.

“Quite the quandary,” Nie Huaisang shifted to put a hand behind his head, his other reaching out to brush the finally slowing fall of rain.

Perhaps not. “Those tattered journals — You’re the one who’s been transcribing A-Xian’s work, aren’t you?” Wen Qing’s eyes widened, and she knew she was correct. “Would it convince you if I read one?”

“His journals may as well have been written in code for all Jin Guangyao and his minions can make sense of it.” Wen Qing shifted on her knees, her posture losing its perfection in a way that somehow conveyed challenge. “I suppose it would. I haven’t worked through this one yet.”

Selecting a volume from the middle of the stack, she held it out to Jiang Yanli.

She took it with trembling hands, wary of which of A-Xian’s secrets she might find within. Flipping it open, she found lotuses. “He tried to grow lotuses in the Burial Mounds?” She asked, but Wen Qing remained impassive.

Jiang Yanli would gain no sympathy, without sufficient proof. “This describes his attempts to grow less-hardy crops in lands tainted by resentful energy, beginning with the ‘noble lotus’, because ‘as Shijie always said, lotuses are a vital part of any diet, and radishes are rabbit food.” She couldn’t help but smile, almost able to hear A-Xian say those words. Certain, for the space of a breath, that if she turned, he would be standing behind her, grinning and no older than ten. “I definitely never said that last part.”

Lotuses; however, should be a part of any diet. They were, objectively, the best vegetable. Less popular in seafood-loving Lanling than Yunmeng, unfortunately.

A-Xuan’s pond had been maintained, but only as a memorial. No one who truly knew them had been involved in that decision.

“He predicted lotuses could only tolerate a certain level of resentment, and calculated that the levels of the patch of land must be reduced by 60%. He played Chenqing to draw out spirits bound to the plot and — there’s a drop of spilled ink there— the bound spirits willingly moved on.” She turned the page, hoping to find the missing link. “Oh. This is.” There was an unusually detailed piece of artwork filling the next page, depicting Wen Ning and a boy who must be a younger Lan – no, Wen – Yuan elbow deep in a muddy pond of lotuses in full bloom, Wen Qing with an overflowing basket of laundry on her hip, watched them fondly. Smaller figures were grouped together in the background, bent over in the fields, or sitting together over the mending.

This had been the Burial Mounds they all so feared.

“What is it?” Wen Qing asked.

Wordlessly, Jiang Yanli turned the book towards her.

Wen Qing took a shuddering breath, and looked away.

It was a reminder, Jiang Yanli realized, that Wen Qing was the only one left.

Except that she wasn’t. “The boy, A-Yuan. He’s alive.” She said, breathless. “Lan Wangji adopted him. No one else would have guessed, but...”

To her, it had been obvious.

Wen Qing met her gaze, disbelief warring with naked hope. “You’re not lying. And you’re really —”

“I can cook for you if you need more proof.” She smiled, looking down at her hands. “The servants would get a shock out of Jin-furen in the kitchen.”

Soup-making is not a required skill for Qin cultivators. Qin Su said. I could not be trusted not to poison myself.

Only the basics had been required of the Jiang. But Jiang Yanli had taken to it, latching onto the skill instinctively. A young girl who had finally found something she was good for, beyond a marriage alliance.

“Jiang Yanli.” Wen Qing breathed, her lips parting as her grip on her needle tightened.

The sound of her name on Wen Qing’s lips felt like a warm embrace, though Wen Qing had never touched her in anything but a professional manner. The first time she was recognized by someone who mattered to her before everything went wrong.

She shivered, but not from the cold.

Concerned, Wen Qing got to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. Since you’re not a stranger or a lying impostor, I will make you tea.” She slapped a heating talisman on a cast iron teapot with a peacock motif emblazoned on the side and turned to grab a folded robe from a nearby cabinet. The robe, she handed to Jiang Yanli. “And put this on, or you’ll catch your death.”

She held the robe away from her body. “I won’t. While many of my problems carried over into my new body, my health ones did not.”

“How did I never notice you’re just as bullheadedly stubborn as your brothers?” Wen Qing sighed. “Wei Wuxian told me he invented his drying talisman to hide the evidence when he pushed Jiang Wanyin in the lake, but he never figured out how to make it work while someone was still wearing the clothing.”

Letting her will be faster and less suspicious than going back to the Fragrance Hall to change, Qin Su pointed out.

They were both right, but — since when had accepting help become so difficult?

Maybe she was just like her brothers, when she wasn’t spending all her time as their moderating influence. “I am a Jiang. But I appreciate the gesture.” She hurried behind a folding screen to change, and attached the offered quick-drying talismans.

When she stepped back out in Wen Qing’s robe, she said, “I have some questions.”

“I can guess them.” She poured a cup of tea for Jiang Yanli as she knelt on a fresh, dry pillow.

Jiang Yanli cradled the cup close to her chest, savoring its warmth. “I missed much of what happened while I was -” shell-shocked and unable to summon the expected wailing sobs, terrified for her brother, while still hoping Zixuan would walk through the doors, and it had all just been a big mistake — “attending to my husband’s mourning rites. You turned yourself in?”

“They promised Wei Wuxian and my clan would live if A-Ning and I turned ourselves in, and then killed everyone except us.” What might have been a broken, bitter laugh tore from Wen Qing’s throat. “Though I don’t think Jin Guangshan ever knew about me, since his son used me to make his heart give out.”

“What on earth made him think it was a good idea to keep you around?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Meant in an entirely complimentary way of course.”

Jiang Yanli grimaced. “What Nie-zongzhu means ask is—”

“Exactly what he said. It’s fine.” Wen Qing rolled her eyes. Nie Huaisang awakened Jiang Yanli’s eldest sibling instincts simply by existing, so perhaps Wen Qing was experiencing the same phenomena. “They wanted A-Ning as a tool, to figure out how Wei Wuxian made him, and how to control him. Me, well — there’s no one else in the world who knows more about golden cores.” She wasn’t bragging. The woman who had kept Wen Ruohan in a semblance of stability for years and kept company with the Yiling Patriarch had no need for boasting. “My familiarity with Wei Wuxian’s work was merely a bonus, he said, though he’s gotten more out of my translations than his original goal.”

“His original goal?” Jiang Yanli took a careful sip of tea. It was a rich golden color, with the fermented taste of a pu’er, of mushrooms and dried fruits and honey. Wen Qing had left the box out, and its label read Qishan, and a date two decades earlier. A purposeful reminder, then, of everything Wen Qing had lost.

A tea or a wine might age into readiness, but Wen Qing lived on borrowed time.

“To strengthen his golden core.” She said. Knocking back her own tea like it was wine, she poured another. “A lack of proper instruction and years with a fake manual left his stunted. Of course, I’m his prisoner. I’d prefer he stay that way. So he doesn’t trust anything I come up with.”

“Greedy.” Nie Huaisang said, “Meng Yao would never have kept you around.”

“If Jin Guangyao erred, it’s our gain.” This time, when Jiang Yanli reached out, Wen Qing let their fingers brush before pulling away.

Shaking her head, Wen Qin continued, “If you’re hoping to use my skill against him, that would be difficult. He takes my methods and has them tested extensively before use. Especially on himself.”

“I’m certain you could find away around that,” Jiang Yanli busied her hands with the teapot to keep from offering unwelcome comfort. “But you’re A-Xian’s family. You are worth finding, whether or not you can be of use.”

Rather than risk eye contact Wen Qing stared at Jiang Yanli’s hands. “Though Jin Guangyao understands it’s not so easy to correct his block, he’s starting to get impatient. Now that his known enemies are out of the way, I don’t know how much longer he’ll take to accept I’d need to treat him directly to have any effect. He would never allow that, of course. I’d kill him.”

Qin Su made an offer to hold him down that Jiang Yanli did not repeat.

“Speaking of murder, did you help kill my Da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked pleasantly.

“Unless he used something a second time, no.” Wen Qing said. Then startled, “Chifeng-zun is dead?”

Pointedly, he hummed a tune that sounded… off, somehow. When Wen Qing just stared at him, he huffed. “He used an obscure musical cultivation score.”

Wen Qing raised her chin high, and stared him down. “I am the last person anyone would ask about music. My attempts at a lullaby made A-Yuan cry. I couldn’t even clap a rhythm when Wei Wuxian needed one for his cultivation. He had to ask Popo.”

Nie Huaisang did not loose his flippancy when he said, “Then you can live. Perhaps, if you’re willing to trade some information, I could do something about your brother’s situation.”

Wen Qing looked him over, calculating. Glancing at Jiang Yanli only briefly, she nodded. “I doubt there’s much you can do for me, but if you can find a way to free A-Ning, that would be worth it.”

“We came here looking for a witness to Jin Guangshan’s murder.” Nie Huaisang leaned towards them, balanced precariously on his perch.

I’d almost forgotten. Qin Su said softly. Jiang Yanli had forgotten.

“Well, I mixed the poison. But the person you came for might be upstairs. I was restricted to this floor a year ago now? Or so? It’s difficult to keep track of time, these days.” At that, Wen Qing seemed deeply disturbed. Jiang Yanli could understand why — days passing in infrequently interrupted isolation could be no less disorienting than waking up one day to find her infant son reached her waist. “Sometimes, I hear footsteps overhead.”

“Excellent!” Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and jumped down outside the window. A gray flash blasted upwards a moment later.

In his absence, silence crept in. Wen Qing’s hands shook as she reached for her teacup, and she let them fall in her lap.

“I should return to the banquet soon.” Jiang Yanli said, finally. “But I am wondering. What is Jin Guangyao using to keep you here?”

One of Wen Qing’s brows quirked up. “You must have noticed the wards.”

“Yes, but they’re based on A-Xian’s work, and you know it better than anyone else alive.” And after his complicity in her family’s murder, Wen Qing must be unable to overcome his means on her own.

“If it was only those wards, yes.” Grimly, Wen Qing pulled up her sleeve.

An inky blackness ringed her wrist, a chain of distorted characters that wavered before her eyes. Unthinking, Jiang Yanli reached out to touch, but the characters dissolved and scattered up her arm as her fingers connected with warm skin. There was an intake of breath, and Wen Qing hurriedly drew back her hand. As she did so, the characters began to creep back into place, now somehow less comprehensible to her mind. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine.” Wen Qing refused to meet her eyes. “This is evidence, I think, of the only time Jin Guangyao lowered himself to personally research demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian filled dozens of journals with his inventions and theories and half-baked ideas he dreamed up at three in the morning. But he never would have come up with anything like this, and Xue Yang couldn’t have managed it.”

“What does it do?” She asked, certain she wouldn’t like the answer.

“If I take a single step out that door, A-Ning will not only die again, but his soul will be shredded.” At that, Jiang Yanli gasped. Wen Qing’s face crumpled. “They — they kept him for experiments. Like he’s nothing more than a mouse.”

“Oh, Wen Qing.” Jiang Yanli wanted, instinctively, to hold out her arms, and let Wen Qing fall against her shoulder. But she knew better than to offer. Wen Qing hunched inwards, clasping her arms at the elbows.

A thump from outside the window startled them, but it was only Nie Huaisang, resuming his perch. “There’s a woman upstairs. She didn’t notice me. But you, Wen-guniang, must have much more interesting information.”

“There’s a problem with that.” Wen Qing had straightened her posture while Jiang Yanli was turned away. Unwilling to show Nie Huaisang weakness, where she’d let some of what she was feeling through when it was only Jiang Yanli. “You can’t come back here. Not when Jin Guangyao is in Koi Tower, at least.”

Jiang Yanli thought she might have a solution. “Are you familiar with A-Xian’s papermen?”

“The ones he pranked the Lans with back in the Cloud Recesses? Of course, but he never had cause to use them in the Burial Mounds. I don’t know the talisman.”

“I do. Here, let me demonstrate.” Once, her mother had confined A-Xian to his room for a month, and for the week it took her father to decide the punishment was too harsh, the talismans had been their only contact.

Jiang Yanli borrowed a talisman paper, since her own were ruined by the rain and cut out the shape of a paperman. She focused, but the world didn’t swirl down into a mouse’s perspective. She registered the empty feeling in her mind at the same time as the paperman twitched, and stood. “Qin Su?”

The paperman nodded. <This is weird> Qin Su’s voice said, as though from a strange distance. Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang startled.

“You can hear her?” She asked, breathless.

Wen Qing stared, open-mouthed at the tottering paper figure “You said she was still around but — this shouldn’t be possible.”

Qin Su’s little paper body wobbled from the center of the table towards the edge, but before she got halfway, it fell, inert. Qin Su was back in her mind. I lost my hold on it. Looking at a giant version of your own face is extremely disorienting.

Much in the way seeing a face that didn’t belong to her in the mirror every morning was disorienting, she imagined.

Still, that was amazing! I need to try it again. Qin Su continued. I wonder how long I could last in there with practice. Just being able to move again…

“You’re welcome to try to figure out what happened.” She told Wen Qing. If anyone living could figure out what had happened to Qin Su’s soul, and if it had affected Jiang Yanli’s, it was her.

“Another time. You said you needed to go.” Wen Qing urged.

“Yes.” She agreed. She’d stayed far too long as it was. “After you make one of your own."

Jiang Yanli returned to the banquet in talisman dried robes, with Wen Qing’s paperman in her pocket. It was uneventful, in comparison. Her absence had gone largely unremarked. the dramatics of Nie Huaisang were universally understood to be time consuming. That she returned without him only helped sell the ruse.

That he’d been cagey about what he wanted to speak to Wen Qing about without her was less comforting.

It was another few hours before Jiang Yanli could retire for the night, but she absorbed little of the conversation.

Finally sliding open the door to her bedroom, Jiang Yanli lit the candles with a wave of her hand. The thrill that went through her at the fact that she could turned to terror at the sight of a figure sitting cross-legged in the middle of her floor.

Until she saw that it was Nie Huaisang. Which wasn’t entirely reassuring, but was unlikely to end in bloodshed.

“I’d appreciate if you could remove your sword from my throat.” He tapped Chunsheng’s edge.

Jiang Yanli was startled to realize she’d drawn the sword. Qin Su’s instinctive panic had bled into her, and she’d acted without thinking. Her ears rung from the force of Qin Su’s scream, visions of splattered blood flashing with each blind.

She sheathed the sword with a sigh. “I’d recommend not hiding in our rooms in the future. Traumatic experiences. Qin Su still wants to gut you.”

She was actually stuck in the panic stage, her volatile emotions ricocheting around the confines of Jiang Yanli’s mind like a coin caught in a crevice. But a part of Jiang Yanli wanted to gut him for her, a heretofore unknown bloodlust that crawled back with her from the grave.

I think that’s just me, Qin Su managed. But Jiang Yanli knew better. I don’t think I could have stopped in time.

“Yes, well. That’s nothing new! Someone tries at least once a week.” Nie Huaisang waved her off, unshaken. “Wen Qing and I came up with a brilliant idea! Just a tiny seed of a suggestion, really.”

She’d been working with Nie Huaisang for one day, almost to the minute, and he’d already begun involving her in schemes that would probably get her killed. A second time. Dragged Wen Qing into it too, as though she weren’t in a dangerous enough position already.

Rather than sit, Jiang Yanli crossed her arms, taking up a position between Qin Su’s two ink paintings. “I’ll listen, if you promise this won’t happen again. And leave, after.”

“If you still want me too!” He agreed brightly. “You should get Wen Qing out for this. The lynchpin was her idea. Very clever. I would have just found someone convenient. I’m nothing if not lazy, after all. But she thinks we can take out two birds with one stone.’

As he was speaking, Jiang Yanli had reached into the seam of her robe, and retrieved the paperman. It stirred in the palm of her hand, as though Wen Qing had been waiting for the right moment.

<I’m flattered.> Her little paper arms folded over one another. <Not that you managed to say anything with all those words.>

Nie Huaisang’s sly smile broke as he grimaced at the paperman. It returned, as he tilted his to look at her from the corner of his eye. “What would you say to bringing back Wei-xiong?”

“Yes.” The part of Jiang Yanli that crafted dark, twisted schemes for that very purpose responded before she could stop herself. She shoved it back into the dark corner of her mind where it belonged. ��But the sacrifice summon doesn’t work without casualties, and I can’t —”

“Yes, that is a problem.” He agreed, at odds with his breezy tone. “Who would buy into trading their life for vengeance, and deserve to have their soul ripped apart? Or at least, that’s a problem for you. I care about getting the job done.”

I miss being able to think that pleasant-seeming people were just pleasant people. Qin Su grumbled, and Jiang Yanli wholeheartedly agreed.

Yet Nie Huaisang wasn’t volunteering himself, she noticed. “It wouldn’t be difficult to convince someone I was Qin Su, possessed by my own spirit. But unlike you, it is the destruction of the soul that concerns me.”

<Would you still be opposed if the sacrifice did deserve it?> Wen Qing interjected.

Jiang Yanli’s first instinct was to say that no one deserved that. It was even more unlikely that someone so monstrous would agree. But when Wen Qing explained her suggestion, Jiang Yanli found herself agreeing.

“You don’t want to bring your brother back?” She asked, later, after Wen Qing’s paperman lost its animation. It was not a serious offer. Though Jiang Yanli had not disliked Nie Mingjue nearly so much as most sect leaders, she could not help but think that if he had not been quite so intransigent, A-Xian might not have been driven to the lengths he had.

She would not trade her chance to bring back A-Xian for Nie Mingjue. She simply needed to know if Nie Huaisang was going to be a problem.

You can be kind of scary sometimes, Yanli-jie. Qin Su was likely reconsidering her stance on Jiang Yanli’s general level of bloodthirstiness.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide before he sputtered into a fit of laughter more bitter than a mouthful of lotus pits. Wiping a tear from his eye, he said, “Are you kidding? Dage would murder me. Which would be worth it, except he’d immediately undo all my hard work and send himself into another qi deviation. Resurrect Dage, really.”

He tsked, and laughed again, but this time there was something wistful in it.

Longing, perhaps, for what he could not have.

“And you? You don’t want to bring back your husband?” He asked, startling her.

“Zixuan? I hadn’t even thought about it.” She had loved her husband, and lost him far too soon. But she was, she felt, capable of grieving him, where the place A-Xian belonged was a gaping hollow inside her. She’d practically raised A-Xian, watched him grow and change into a brilliant young man. A world of difference lay between him and the man she’d admired from afar, and only gotten to love for a single year.

There was, she thought, another key difference between them. A-Xian was like her. He’d never move on peacefully to his next life, while those he cared for were unhappy or in danger. Zixuan, on the other hand… “If I know my husband, Zixuan will have already been reincarnated.”

His soul probably belonged to a child not much younger than A-Ling now. One with doting parents and many siblings, for whom the worst thing in the world was sitting inside to memorize characters.

Or so she hoped. “But A-Xian… he’s still waiting. I’m certain of it.”

“Waiting? Not a restless ghost, or in…?”

“A-Xian’s anger never lasts- lasted. He’s always burned bright and hot. If he took revenge, that was it.” The longest grudge he’d ever held was against Zixuan. It had also been his pettiest. There had been Wen Chao, of course, but something had stopped A-Xian from getting to him faster, though he’d never told her what. Otherwise, A-Xian’s anger was like a firework: a spark, an explosion, and gone, as insubstantial as smoke. “And if the kings of hell are as quick to condemn as mortals, then what’s the use of the justice he loved so much?”

Justice that had been stolen from him in every turn in life. Jiang Yanli could only hope that this new life she might — just might — be able to offer him would grant her A-Xian everything he’d been denied in the first.

Nodding, Nie Huaisang produced a jug of wine from his sleeve, and raised it towards her in toast. “To brothers with too many morals and bringing yours back.”

Qin Su spent the night practicing slipping in and out of a paperman, wobbling around on tiny paper legs and indulging in her newfound ability to move and speak, of her own volition. She lasted longer each time.

Each shift kept Jiang Yanli alert and awake, the feeling of being alone in her mind now as strange as sharing it had been at the start. Jiang Yanli didn’t mind. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

Even as she hoped to see her brother again, she felt the empty space in her bed more viscerally than ever. A-Xuan would not have had advice she could use. Likely, he wouldn’t have approved. Certainly, he wouldn’t have understood. But he wouldn’t judge her, or try to stop her. He would hold her close, stroke her hair, and give her a place where it was safe to feel.

Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that was something she was missing, before him. It was something she would likely never have again.

The paperman Wen Qing had left lying inert on the table surged back to life. <Oh, you’re still awake. Or did I wake you?>

“Couldn’t sleep.” She whispered, propping herself up on one elbow, softly enough that Qin Su — busy scaling the shelving near the door — could not hear.

<I couldn’t either.> Wen Qing admitted. <You gave me a lot to think about.>

“Questions of morality?” Questions like, who was Jiang Yanli to condemn a soul to be torn apart by trickery? Who was she, if she purposefully eliminated a living person’s soul, a line only Xue Chonghai had admitted to crossing? What, then, separated her from Jin Guangyao?

Qin Su had caught her wondering this, as her thoughts cycled through those questions on one of her returns, and scoffed. The difference is you’re not murdering innocents for power.

But Qin Su’s anger was scalding and freshly kindled; her own was a low, steady flame. She had the clarity to stare down the path she’d chosen, and ask where she’d draw the line, if not here.

Jiang Yanli couldn’t help but wonder how much blood she’d have on her hands when the dust had settled. Whether anyone else would be able to see it.

Wondering wasn’t enough to stop her.

But Wen Qing surprised her.

<You gave me hope. I haven’t had hope in a very long time.> She took a flying leap into the air, the little paper figure drifting unevenly down from its peak to land on the bedframe, near Jiang Yanli’s head. <I’m sorry if I’ve caused you inner turmoil.>

She giggled a little into her hand, surprising herself. “Turmoil. That’s a good word for it. But I think — I’m glad you did.”

The silence that settled between them felt warm and comfortable, like she’d just put on a broth to simmer. Like if she waited for it to be ready, maybe she wouldn’t be so lost after all.

After some time, Wen Qing asked, <Would you mind telling me about A-Yuan?>

What she knew wasn’t much. But to Jiang Yanli’s surprise, she drifted off in the telling.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic #the sacrifice summon! JYL fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring the return of wen qing #and plotting wwx's resurrection #finally my yanqing tag is relevant #posting multiple days after i uploaded to ao3 whoops

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years ago

Text

Proving Your Worth Part 12 || Jonathan Toews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So when I sat down to write, this was not the chapter I had in my head...I fully blame the blackhawks 17-18 schedule for this because that is entirely what it’s structured around. So guess what...you have to be tortured for another chapter before you get what you probably thought was coming in this chapter. But in return, you get a lot of softness and some tropical time.

Warnings: smut, cursing.

Word Count: 4,565

~~~~~

Spending Christmas with Jon and both of your families had been wonderful. Sadly, just a few days later Jon was headed off on the road again, this time for more than a week. You’d missed him before, but this time felt different and you weren’t sure whether to blame your hormones or the increasing seriousness of your relationship. With Jon on the road you were spending New Year’s alone and while that was something you were used to, it left you with a lingering emptiness that felt deeper than usual.

Feeling the walls of your apartment crushing in on you, you packed up an overnight bag and grabbed the few things you’d acquired for the baby. Then you drove over to Jon’s....and technically your home, parking in his spot and letting yourself in with just a wave to the doorman. With your bag dropped at the door and your shoes and coat left in their proper places in the entryway, you walked through the kitchen and down the hall with the bedrooms, stopping in front of the middle room - the one Jon mentioned could be the nursery. The door was closed, but you gently pushed it open, a gasp spilling from your throat as you stepped into the room.

Its walls were still a pale cream, but where a yoga mat, stationary bike, and some weights had been before (Jon had used this as a home gym), a plush grey rocking chair and ottoman stood taking their place. Tears filled your eyes as you stepped closer, dropping the box of baby things gently on the floor. A small piece of paper rested lightly on the ottoman and picking it up you saw the words ‘my love’ scrawled across the front. Opening it, you felt the tears fall as your eyes scanned over the words.

If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you’ll find this long before I’m able to make it home to you. Hopefully, this is just the start of making my home feel like your home. Our home. You are always welcome here. I know you weren’t planning on doing anything with the nursery until after your next ultrasound, but I saw this and decided that it could work either way and maybe just maybe provide you some comfort when you need it most.

I love both of you and can’t wait to wrap my arms around you soon.

Jon

Wiping at your eyes, you sighed softly at how Jon pulled this off right under your nose. Every time that you thought you couldn’t love him more, he went and did something like this. Deciding the little bit of fiddling you wanted to do could wait a little longer, you settled yourself into the rocker, your hand splaying over your growing bump.

“What do you think?” You whispered. “Did daddy do good?” Not shockingly the response was mere silence but you didn’t mind it, instead tracing patterns over your stomach. According to the books, it wouldn’t be too much longer before you felt the first movements and you were eagerly awaiting the days of wave-like feelings and flutters from the baby’s activities.

Jon had been right in the fact that this rocker was already bringing you comfort. At the same time though, the longer you sat, the colder you felt. Pouting, you realized that you hadn’t turned the heat up when you arrived and Jon always turned it down before he left so that his furnace wasn’t constantly running. Feeling too lazy to walk all the way back to the entry to adjust the thermostat, you instead simply reached over to the box, pulling out the quilt your sister had made for the baby. It didn’t cover you fully but it was enough to provide some warmth over your legs and bump, the areas where you felt the chill the most, allowing you to relax back into the chair.

Suddenly your phone was ringing. Pulling it from your pocket you yawned as your brain processed first that it was Jon calling, and second that it was almost midnight. You must have dozed off because it was not that late when you’d gotten here. Shaking the fog from your brain you answered Jon’s facetime, heart-melting as Jon’s face dimly lit up his screen. His surroundings were fairly noisy and you watched as the background moved behind him before things got a little quieter.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted. “Did I wake you?” He inquired. Shrugging, you smiled back at him yawning once more.

“I don’t know. I guess so.” You replied. “How’s the team party going?” You asked assuming that was the cause of all of the noise.

“Would be better if you were here.” Jon mused. You shifted the phone for a second as you adjusted yourself in the chair and when you looked back at him Jon’s smile was even wider. “So I guess you did find my surprise.” He declared, fingers running through his hair. “And I guess it’s pretty comfortable if you dozed off in it already.” He added. You nodded and mirrored his actions, your free hand running through your own locks which were tousled from sleep.

“I won’t keep you long…” Jon murmured. “Just...it’s almost midnight and I wanted to ring in the New Year with you.” He explained. The look in his eyes went sad for a moment and you realized he hated missing your first new year’s together as much as you did.

“Hey, Jon…” You whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you.” Jon responded. From off in the distance behind him you heard the start of a countdown. 60...59...58…

“Hey...just two weeks until bye week.” You reminded him.

“Two weeks until your doctor’s appointment.” He grinned. 40...39...38…

“You still haven’t told me what you want...boy or girl?” You teased knowing full well that you still weren’t going to get an answer out of him. He had insisted that he honestly didn’t care.

“A healthy baby.” He said, echoing your internal thoughts, making you sigh and roll your eyes. 20...19...18…

“I promise you I am going to be over the mood either way,” Jon assured you. 13...12...11…

“I just really wish I was there to kiss you right now.” He stated as the countdown reached ten behind him.

“I wish you were too.” You agreed, cheers increasing in volume as the clock officially struck midnight. “Happy New Year Jon.” You breathed, reaching forward to blow him a kiss through the phone screen.

“Happy New Year love. I have a feeling this is going to be the best year of my life yet.” Though you could stay on the phone with him for hours, it was clear that some of the guys were trying to get his attention when he sighed and glanced sideways before turning back to you. “I gotta go. But promise me you’ll make your way into bed.” He teased. “I don’t want to hear you complain tomorrow when your back is sore.” The crinkle of his eyes made you smile sadly and you nodded.

“Don’t stay out too late there cowboy.” You teased back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Count on it.” He declared, blowing a quick kiss of his own before ending the call. For a moment, your head fell back against the chair as a few wayward tears fell, but then you pushed yourself to your feet, folded the blanket up over the corner of the rocker, and moved to the kitchen for a bottle of water and your bag. It wasn’t until you had crawled into bed that you realized you’d forgotten to adjust the thermostat while you were up. As you were working up the energy to move your phone buzzed once from it’s charging spot on the nightstand and a quick glance at it made you smile.

Jon: Turned up the thermostat for you <3 Sleep tight my loves.

You’d forgotten that Jon had recently upgraded to a fancy system that let him adjust it from his phone so that he didn’t have to come home to a freezing apartment after two weeks away. The fact that he knew you’d forget, and that even while away he found ways to take care of you made you feel so loved. It made you miss him a little less but all the more at the same time.

_______

You only had to miss Jon for three more days before he was finally home again, with only one more away game before the break. It felt good to be back in his arms again and the first night you had him alone, you made sure to properly celebrate the new year the way you would have if you had been together...first with his head between your thighs as you sat on the kitchen counter, and then tangled together in bed.

The team was facing struggles, unable to string more than two wins together in a row. You knew it was taking its toll on Jon even if he was still featuring prominently on the scoresheets, but he never said a word at home, choosing to leave work at work.

Finally, on a Monday morning, the first day of the bye week, you found yourself tucked into Jon’s passenger seat as he drove you to your doctor’s appointment. This was the first one he was coming to and it was the big one. The one where you found out whether the baby inside you was a little boy or a little girl.

It was almost amusing watching your doctor react when she walked into the room and spotted Jon sitting beside you. To her credit, she just looked back and forth between the two of you before nodding to herself and asking if you should get started.

By the end of the appointment, you and Jon had both shed happy tears and you left with the ultrasound photos in hand, a bright smile on both your faces. Your baby was perfectly healthy and as Jon pressed you against the side of his SUV for just a moment despite the Chicago wind whipping around you, you let him kiss you, his lips drifting up to your ear.

“I know I said I didn’t care…” He breathed. “And I’m sure I’d be just as thrilled if it were the opposite, but I’m honestly really excited we’re having a...” He explained, his voice trailing off at the end as his fingers rubbed over your bump.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed and after glancing at it, he cursed softly.

“We gotta get going, babe.” He urged, opening the car door to help you inside before rushing around to climb behind the wheel.

“What’s the rush?” You questioned, eyes going wide.

“Relax. You’ll find out.” Jon urged. Your eyes trailed over him in confusion for a minute before you settled for looking out the window as Jon navigated through the Chicago streets until you were outside of the immediate city limits. When the car eventually stopped, your jaw dropped and you glanced over at Jon warily. He had just pulled up to the small airstrip the team frequently flew out of and off in the distance you could see a private jet being prepared for flight.

“Jon…” You murmured, voice catching in your throat. “What did you do?” Jon was already out of the car by the time you spoke, however, and by the time he reached your door he had two bags swung over his shoulders.

When you didn’t immediately climb out of the car when he offered a hand, Jon shook his head before setting the bags down beside him and leaning in to kiss you.

“Would you c’mon?” He prodded. “Your vacation has already been cleared with Denise. I packed your bags while you were getting ready this morning and the Sharps are waiting for us.” When you continued to sit frozen in place, Jon’s fingers rubbed across your cheek before dropping down to your bump.

“This could be our only chance to take a real vacation before the baby gets here…” He murmured. “And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t like to get out of the cold for a couple of days.” As you shivered from the blowing wind, you couldn’t help but admit that some warmth did sound nice. It seemed like Jon had gone to a lot of work to surprise you with this trip and so eventually you nodded, taking his hand as you slipped out of the car. He quickly picked the bags back up and his hand drifted to your waist as he guided you across the airport tarmac.

As you reached the plane’s steps you stopped at the sound of voices inside until Jon’s fingers rubbed over your back through your coat.

“The Sharp’s know.” He murmured. “They’re the only ones that know so far, but they know.” He clarified, once again reading your mind before you could even speak. As you climbed the stairs, Jon showed both of your passports and after checking them you were both let onto the flight, the Sharp kids greeting Jon immediately.

After returning their attention for a minute, Jon introduced you to Patrick’s wife and then reintroduced you to his teammate. Patrick asked if you were ready for Mexico and your eyes went wide.

“Didn’t get around to telling her that part.” Jon declared, his fingers scratching at his neck. “Wanted to surprise her.” He explained as he guided you into a seat and helped you buckle in around your bump before settling in himself so that the plane could take off.

Jon’s hand remained in yours until the plane was in the air and then he shifted to grab you a bottle of water. For the first hour or so of the flight, you chatted with the Sharps who asked about how things were going with the baby. Jonathan rambled on about the appointment you’d just come from, his smile growing wider every time he talked about seeing the baby for the first time and how ready he was for everything to come. For the second hour, Jon moved to play a card game with the Sharp kids and Patrick’s wife sat herself next to you, insisting that if you needed anything she was only a call away and fawning over how nice it was to see Jon falling in love and settling down. She mentioned that she had never seen him act this way before and that it was adorable how much he loved the baby already.

Pregnancy fatigue finally kicked in after that and you spent the last hour and a half of the flight asleep on Jon’s shoulder. Upon landing, you parted ways with the Sharps until the flight back, and Jon guided you into the back of a car, giving an address to the driver. A few minutes later, you arrived at a beautiful resort, your jaw dropping. You’d never been in this nice of a place before and you couldn’t help but gape at Jon as he helped you out of the car before gathering your bags.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jon stated softly, as he leaned in to kiss you. “You deserve all of this and more.” His hand wrapped around yours as he guided you inside and after checking in, you were led down a hall by a concierge. When the suite door was opened and you were led inside, your eyes went wide once more. In front of you were glass windows looking out at the ocean that stretched wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Between where you were standing and the glass was a comfortable living room with a big screen tv and tucked off into the corner was a king-size bed. The tans and blues of the room were immediately calming, but the best part was the plunge pool that lay just outside the doors and was clearly all yours.

“You like?” Jon whispered in your ear as his arms draped around your waist and it was only then that you realized you were now alone.

“It’s stunning.” You murmured. “I can’t believe you did this.” You added, feeling Jon chuckled against your neck.

“Promise me you’ll just enjoy it.” Jon breathed. “You don’t let me spoil you often. And I want this time...to just enjoy you, us as a couple. Like I said, we probably won’t get another trip before the baby gets here so let’s make the most of this one.” He urged, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as he spoke. Now that you were here you could either be stubborn and make things miserable, or just relax and enjoy yourself by letting Jon give you all of the good things he wanted to. Deciding on the second option, you leaned back against his chest and tilted your head up toward him.

“You just want to see me in a swimsuit.” You teased. “Did you even manage to find me a swimsuit?” You questioned, not sure you even had one in your drawers because you weren’t doing a whole lot of swimming in Chicago.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” Jon agreed, his fingers trailing from your bump, up your sides. “Admittedly I had to order a few things for you ahead of time and that was one of them.” He declared. “But it’s not like I don’t know your sizes by now. So you’re gonna look hot.” The smirk on his face made you smile and you leaned up to peck his lips.

“Damn right I’m gonna look hot.” You teased back. “But you better feed me before anything.” Jon’s laugh was the best sound you could ever hear and for a moment you felt a fluttering in your stomach. You’d felt it a few times before, usually when with Jon, but now after talking to your doctor you knew that it was likely the movements from your baby that you’d been waiting for.

When your hand fell to the spot Jon paused and moved to lean down and kiss your bump.

“Are you feeling our little one move?” He inquired, his eyes lighting up even more when you hummed and nodded. “Sounds like they’re agreeing it’s time for some food.” He surmised. “But let’s change first because we’re still dressed for Chicago and in Chicago we are not.”

You opened the bag Jon had packed for you after he’d placed it on the bed and inside you found multiple new outfits. You were grateful that Jon had really put some thought into this because you certainly didn’t have any maternity wear for summer yet. Slipping on a green sundress with a floral print, you twisted your hair up on your head and then slipped on some sandals. By the time you had managed all of that, Jon was standing in front of you in a t-shirt and shorts, his hands in his pockets.

You’d returned to the room after dinner full and happy when Jon suggested a moonlit dip in the pool. Nodding because that sounded nice, you moved to get your suit when Jon stopped you, his hands falling to your hips.

“You don’t need that tonight.” Jon declared, his hands falling to the hem of your dress. The sun had set while you were eating dinner and looking out the window you saw nothing but darkness. “Yeah?” Jon breathed, feeling your body go somewhat pliant against him.

“You’re something else.” You replied, simply kicking the sandals off of your feet to a corner by the couch.

“And you love it,” Jon responded. With the lights inside dimmed and only the lights in the pool on outside, you let Jon guide you outside before his hands tugged your dress off over your body. “You’re so fucking sexy.” Jon complimented, his hands sliding over your exposed skin to unhook your bra before dropping to your hips to slide your panties off of your legs.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You complained, feeling slightly exposed as the tropical breeze gently wafted around your nude body. Effortlessly, Jon tugged his shirt over his head before unfastening his shorts and pushing them down his legs along with his boxers. Kicking his own sandals off somewhere beside you, he stepped forward and dropped a gentle kiss to your lips before moving to step into the pool, his hand out once more to help you on the slick steps.

As you sunk into the water beside him, you couldn’t help but smile at the way the lukewarm water felt against your skin.

“Fuck…” You heard Jon breathe, his eyes fixed on you. Your eyebrow raised in his direction and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” He explained, swimming from where he’d been in the deepest end of the pool to where you were standing in the shallows.

“I could say the same.” You insisted your fingers trailing up his arms and then over the solid muscles of his abdomen. His groan as he pressed against you made you flush but you didn’t remove your hands from his heated skin. “I mean you know you’re like every woman’s dream man right?” Jon quirked a brow like he was skeptical and you rolled your eyes playfully at him. “You’re hardworking, determined, passionate, financially responsible, you care about others; not just those that you know personally, but those you don’t. You’re honestly so selfless that it blows me away sometimes. And then you know...having a body like this doesn’t hurt.” A few months ago you never would have felt comfortable teasing a man like this but with Jon, everything was different. “Plus...knowing how to use that body...bonus.” You said, your eyes gazing up at him, surely filled with lust.

At your words, Jon’s grip tightened around your waist and he pulled you close, his mouth seeking out your own.

“I should show you exactly what I can do with this body.” He growled, making you yelp softly as he pinned you against the side of the pool. You could feel his hard length pressed against your bump as he hiked your thighs around his waist and you scratched your nails down his back. “Is that what you want love?” He questioned, his fingers rubbing at your nipples. With the assistance of the water, he was able to hold you in place with just his body, leaving his hands free to explore and pleasure. “Hmm?” He hummed when you didn’t answer him right away.

“God yes.” You breathed. “Always want you.”

“That’s my girl.” Jon preened, slowing his touch down as he kissed you deeply. For a few minutes, you stayed just like that, Jon’s hands caressing your sensitive breasts, his hips pinning you against the pool wall, his tongue delving into your mouth as he kissed you. It wasn’t until you whined softly that he pulled away, a soft smile on his face. “You ready for me?” He questioned, his fingers slipping down to your core, finding the wetness that had been growing since you arrived back from dinner. “Yeah, you are.” He smirked, though he still waited for your whispered ‘please’ before lining himself up and gently pressing inside you. As your bump grew you were forced to seek out different angles, and the one Jon found this time as he used the water to rock against you might just be your favorite yet.

“Jon…” You gasped, your hands shifting to rest against his chest. “That feels so good.”

“You feel so good, love.” Jon insisted. “You always feel so good. Like you were made just for me.” In a way, you knew that you were and you pulled him close to kiss him again. Around you, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the sound of the night wildlife, and the splashing of the water from the pool as Jon thrust into you. The knowledge that you were out in the open, however private it really was, heightened every sensation and it wasn’t long before you were clenching down around him as your orgasm rolled through you. “Fuck.” Jon hissed and knowing he was close you tightened your walls around him again.

“Wanna feel you.” You whined, your nails scraping over the back of his neck again. “Fill me up please.” Jon’s hips stuttered as he cursed in French in your ear. You felt warm and sticky as he spilled inside of you, the sensation pulling another small orgasm from you which caused you to shudder. Jon’s softening cock rested inside of you as you both worked to catch your breaths and you kissed along his shoulders.

“Incredible.” He mumbled, his lips meeting yours as he gently slid out of you, hands falling to your waist as your hips finally shifted, sore from being locked in one position for so long. “It was never this good before you.” He admitted.

“That’s because we just fit...in every way.” You replied, clinging to him until you felt some of the strength in your body return. “I never thought it could be this good so…” You added as you slowly moved to the pool stairs, your hand falling to your bump again. “Come to bed with me? You wore me out.”

Jon nodded, quickly climbing out of the pool ahead of you so that by the time you were out he had a towel in hand to dry you off. After patting you dry, he kissed your forehead and opened the patio door for you.

“Go use the bathroom and I’ll meet you in bed.” He agreed. When he made his way into the bedroom after cleaning up the trail of clothes you’d left outside, you were just pulling one of his t-shirts down over your body.

“This is why I didn’t bother packing you pajamas.” He mused, his eyes running over your body once more as he leaned against the partition.

“Your shirts are comfy.” You shrugged. “Baby agrees.” You added as you pulled the covers down to climb into the comfy king-sized bed. “And we’d both like you to come cuddle us.” You added, smiling as Jon simply grabbed a clean pair of boxer briefs before doing just that, his solid arm pulling you close as he cuddled against you. It had been a long and exciting day and there was truly nothing better than falling asleep with the man you loved more than anything and your child growing inside you.

____

The next two days of your vacation flew by way too fast. Overall, it was relaxing. You went to the spa, suntanned on the beach, relaxed in your little private pool, and had sex on practically every surface with your athlete boyfriend. By the time you had to climb on the plane to head back to Chicago, you were feeling tanner and your mind was completely sated. The trip was everything you didn’t know you needed and it was a necessary part of the whole relationship/baby balance you were trying to achieve with Jon. You felt closer to him in every way as you cuddled against him, making your way back to colder weather and real daily life.

Rocking Chair:

On the Way to the Doctor’s:

Hotel Suite:

Vacation Wardrobe (as picked by Jon):

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