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sunsuns-babie · 6 months ago

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My Roommate is a Gumiho | 03. Kang Taehyun please come save me! (2,347 wrds)

A/N: I know Twitter is called X now but I like Twitter more and what do you even call Tweets now that it’s X?

Y/n groans as she snuggles further into her couch, yawing a little still with her eyes closed. She then starts stretching while slowly opening her groggy eyes not moving positions. In doing this she feels the dull ache in her scrapped knee and elbow, she then notices she can feel her wounds bandaged up. Then she moves her hands towards her face and her eyes start to focus and she sees her scrapped hands are also bandaged.

“Ah… my head hurts… when did I get home last night… where’s Beomgyu?”

Now with her eyes in focus she notices the couch is definitely not her couch which causes her to jerk up. The sudden movement sends a shooting pain through her head as a migraine starts to settle in.

She sat up in a way she couldn’t see what’s behind her and now as she looks around she notices the house she’s in is definitely not by any means her’s. This house was by far the most lavish and expensive she’s ever seen and right now she’s only looking at the giant modern open concept kitchen.

Muttering to herself, “Where am I?”

“You’re up”.

Y/n freezes as she hears a man’s voice coming from behind her. Slowly the now scared girl turns around to face the stranger. Once she does turn around she sees a young man who’s by far the handsomest man she’s ever seen. There this majestic man sits in an arm chair with his legs crossed propping his chin up with his hand as he leans to one side of the small couch. He looks at her with a small smirk on his face as he waits expectingly for her response.

“Who—, who are you?”

Just as the words leaves her lips she suddenly remembers the man from last night with the red Lamborghini. She gasps, “Oh! Aren’t you the owner of the red car…?”

The man nods his head with that same sly grin on his face, “I’m glad you remember”, he then sits up straight and continues, “and this is my home”.

Y/n looks at the stranger like he’s lost his goddamn mind and quickly stands from the couch and creates more distance between them by walking behind it, carefully.

“Why am I here?”, she asks cautiously while looking around the couch for her phone.

“You wouldn’t wake up, so I had no other choice but to bring you here. Besides I have to get something back from you”.

Y/n’s completely confused now because the last thing she remembers is he said both her and Beomgyu could leave and owed him nothing, she knows she wouldn’t have taken something from him. Where even is Beomgyu? Did she dare ask…?

“Hmm? Get something back from me?”

The man sighs, “You swallowed my marble last night”. Y/n can’t help the look of disgust from over taking her face at that because what the hell is he talking about.

He continues, “A very important marble, one I’ve carried with me for nearly 1,000 years to become human.

“To become… human? What do you mean? What are you even talking about, right now?”

“Oh, right. I haven’t introduced myself. I am a Gumiho”.

“This man is an absolute lunatic”, the honestly now terrified girl thinks to herself. Forcing a nod of understanding and a hum of approval the girl tries to discreetly search for her phone a little more franticly.

“Oh… I see… a Gumiho… like a fox…”, she mumbles the last part, “from fairytales”.

The man laughs with a knowing look, “You don’t believe me.”

The frazzled girl now looks back up at him and attempts to reassure him she does in fact believe him, because who knows what this lunatic would do if she said “yeah, of course I don’t believe you, you absolute freak show”.

“No, no, no, no, no! Of course I believe you! So you’re a Gumiho and I swallowed your fox bead, last night”. She moves one of the couch cushions in an attempt to find her phone as casually as possible, “Then what should I do? Should I go wash out my stomach?”, she then gestures to a random hallway that she has no clue where it leads to but assumes a bathroom is probably there.

The lunatic then just looks at her and scoffs, “It’s not in your stomach, it’s already placed itself within your body becoming one with you”. Y/n can’t help the horrified look that overcomes her as she protectively wraps her arms around her stomach.

“Then what should we do?”, she asks while looking at him warily. She starts moving towards the end table still keeping herself safely behind the couch as she continues the search for her phone.

“Well I’ll just have to find a way to get it out of you”.

Y/n ignores him and sees that her phone is not on the end table so she starts moving around some pillows trying to find it, at this point she needs to call the police because a literal psych patient who thinks he’s a fox has practically kidnapped her and is holding her hostage.

“This means we’re in the same boat now”, he says while watching the girl fail to be discreet about her intentions.

“We have a common purpose, taking the marble out”, he continues while observing the young girl not paying attention to anything he’s saying.

He raises his voice a little, “Therefore I think it’s appropriate for us to cohabitate for a while”. This catches the college girl’s attention and she looks at him in disgust.

“I’m sorry?! You want me to live here with you?!”

The lunatic looks at her and smirks, “I can understand that you’re flustered, seeing as we’re strangers but the marble is very dear to me. Don’t you think I’d be able to rest easy if I always had you before me?”

Y/n scoffs, “This man is unbelievable, what the fu—“, she catches herself and tries to remain composed, “I was sorry my friend damaged your car and thankful for you not leaving me out there in the streets, so I was going to let you keep going on and on with your weird delusional story. But what? A Gumiho? Cohabitate?! Stop talking nonsense!”

The insane stranger starts to laugh, “See? You don’t believe me.”

Just then Y/n sees her phone in between the cushions where she was sleeping earlier and eagerly grabs it quickly unlocking it.

The man continues, “But alas, it’ll be easier if I just show you. Then you’ll understand the situation better,” Y/n is almost about to hit call when he says, “try not to pass out”.

She looks up at him about to say something snarky but in place of where the man once stood is a giant fox with nine tales staring at her?!

Y/n drops her phone and starts screaming bloody murder at the sight, then passes out falling to the floor.

“Ah… my head hurts… when did I get home last night… where’s Beomgyu?”

Now with her eyes in focus she notices the couch is definitely not her couch which causes her to jerk up. The sudden movement sends a shooting pain through her head as a migraine starts to settle in.

“What kind of dream was that?”

She could’ve sworn this all happened before… but that was just a dream, right?

“Did you sleep well? You seemed shocked.”

Y/n heard a man’s voice and quickly turned around only to see… the same man from last night and her dream?

It wasn’t a dream was it, “oh my fucking god”, she thought.

The man smiled, “I’ll go make you a cup of tea. It’ll help you calm down”.

The Gumiho the stands up showing his full height to the girl who stares wide eyed at him as he makes his way to his kitchen.

Once in the kitchen Yeonjun grabs a kettle, turn the stove on as he pours some water in it, before placing it on the stove. He looks around in his cabinets for some tea but it seems he’s run out. Just then he finds a packet and turns back to the girl as he says, “Is lotus tea okay with you, it’s all I—”

He observes the now empty living room, scanning the room for the girl before walking to his kitchen window. From there he sees the girl running down his courtyard and out of his gate. An unreadable expression takes over his face as he watches her go.

Meanwhile Y/n is running for her life, she knows the stories about nine-tailed foxes and how they lure their victims in before ripping them apart and eating their liver. That man is most definitely a Gumiho and she is not here for it, she will not let some fox kill her today.

As she runs out the gate she pulls out her phone once again and notices that the fox has charged her phone to full battery…? Last time she checked it was at 15%.

As she unlocks her phone she notices all her missed calls and texts from her friends, including Beomgyu. Beomgyu!

Where is Beomgyu?!

No time for that now, she has to get away from that man’s house before he notices she’s gone and starts chasing her. It’s already 5:30pm she’s practically been gone a full day!

She runs down the street and doesn’t stop until she makes it to the bus stop, once safely in a bus she finally relaxes. Y/n takes a moment to breathe and take everything in during the bus ride but she can’t shake the feeling that someone or something is watching her. It’s starting to make her skin crawl.

Finally her stop comes and she can’t wait to finally be home. She feels much safer now that she’s back in a familiar place. As she’s walking and trying to figure out what she’s going to tell her friends, Y/n notices that she can hear footsteps behind her…?!

She glances behind her and through her peripheral vision and sees a hooded figure. Y/n gulps then starts walking quickly back to her house, maybe it’s just a coincidence.

As she continues on the path to her home she can still see the man following her.

“Oh my god… he’s come after me, hasn’t he?”

She pulls out her phone and instead of opening up her messages she opens Twitter and quickly sends out a tweet.

At this point she starts running down the street and can see her house in the distance, but she can’t even feel relieved because every step she takes the man takes like 20.

Y/n is damn near tears when she hears it, her saving grace. Her savior, Kang Taehyun!

She quickly answers the call and quietly whisper yells, “Kang Taehyun please come save me!”

“Y/n? Where are you?”, Taehyun asks calmly trying to comfort her and not scare her more than she already is. Also as to not let his anger out, because the idea of some creep following her home makes his blood boil.

The tears start to fall and she can’t help the way she starts to shake and openly sob at the sound of Taehyun’s soothing voice.

“I’m on my way home but since I’ve got off of the bus a strange man has been following me, please Tae… can you get here?”

“How far away are you from the house? Hm?”, she can hear rustling coming from his side and can hear the distinct sound of his car’s engine starting.

Through quiet sobs, “I-, I can see the house… it’s not that far but Tae I’m scared…”

“I know, it’s going to be okay. I’m coming, alright? I’ll be there soon just quickly get in the house and lock the door, okay?”

“O-okay…”, she then sprints into her house gate and as fast as possible enters the door lock code. After her shaky hands messed up the first time she finally gets it and rushes into the house dead bolting and chaining the door; and making sure from the inside it’s lock, on top of the door already automatically locking.

“I’m inside the house now, Tae”.

“Good. I’ll be there shortly, I promise. Are the windows closed?”

Y/n gasps and rushes to check and make sure all the windows are shut and locked.

“Y/nie~ I’m going to hang up now but I promise I’m coming. I’m almost there, baby. Once you check the windows go to your room and lock the door, okay?”

“Okay… please hurry Taehyun…”

“I will. I’ll see you soon, pretty”, and then he hangs up.

And as fate would have it the moment Taehyun hung up she can hear someone trying to open the door, to her absolute horror Y/n watches as the doorknob is jiggling back and forth.

“Oh my god… that fox has come for me… what do I do?” , she says aloud while grabbing her phone. But before she can do anything the person on the other side starts banging on the door and jiggling the knob more frantically.

And then she hears a voice yelling out to her from the other side of the door…

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writemeaboi · 7 months ago

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A/N: this one is a bit of a doozy. Flame is such a good angst outlet. Be safe and take care of yourselves yall <3

TW: On Screen Character Death, Gore, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Emotional

+Grimm Consequences+

Wind whips around them, carrying sand and dust up into the air. The red sanded sandstorm that roars around them limits their vision but does little to slow the two of them. They stalk with a purpose, the harrowing winds doing little to stop their stride, clothes whipping about.

Flame was relieved for once she had listened to Sean. He had said wear layers and goggles wouldn't be a bad idea. There had been a lot of times where his words had been to measly pull her leg or trick her into things. He was once the Devil, rotting in the corruption of power. But that was Cinder. After being usurped for his title, he decided to lay low with mortals.

They taught him empathy.

If they hadn't, he wouldn't have invited her with to be traveling through the deserts of Hell miles from anywhere to a location that rest the killer of his son, cornered and wounded. A man who had once been her mentor. Devouring Spirit's soul had driven him to a point of no return. He became a mindless blood thirsty monster. She hunted for him for years, trying to end the suffering.

He was once a kind soul.

Lights can soon be seen from a distance even through the thick sandstorm. Sean pushes foward, her right on his heels. He leads the way to where a cluster of three orbs of magical energy rest floating in the air about five feet above. Sean then bends down and clears the sand away from a metal hatch. She would have never known it was there with how much the storm had buried it.

With great strength he pulls it open. She descends the latter presented, metal rungs in stone.

She makes it about three rungs to the bottom just as she hears a thud above as the roaring of the storm is now quiet. She turns and steps into the moderately sized room before her to find that she stands in some sort of barracks. Bunk beds line the wall. At least eight, and it doesn't take long for her to sense that most are full. Demons. Low-tier. Three soilders in tunics and trousers with horns and slitted eyes, looking exhausted, sit around a card table near middle of the room. They trade trinkets with cards and dice. For a moment they are unaware of her presence.

She then clears her throat.

Their attention changes to her immediately. They draw weapons and stand on edge. She feels fear drown their thoughts paired with flashes of memory from their earlier hunt. How many it had already cost them and terrified it would cost more if somehow he had allies they hadn't accounted for.

She is quick to remove the fabric wrapped around her head, followed by the goggles, as she speaks, "Cinder is a friend of mine. He retrieved me once you had your prey trapped.”

The farthest sat from her relaxes her shoulders and gives a look of understanding. The other two stand at the ready till a hand on either of their shoulders from the woman calms them. Her eyes are serious, stern, a little dead. The eyes of a soilder.

"I am General Talia of the Forsaken Herd. Sir Cinder told us he was returning with-”

Then Sean emerges from above, "My apologies for the delay, Talia. I ran into important matters that needed tending to," He faces the three demons saluting him, "At ease. Pardon my interruption.”

The soilders relax. The other two retake their seats as Talia stays standing tall giving reassuring looks to those slightly stirring from sleep at the talking. Sean joins at Flame's side, holding the air of a leader. It isn't suppressing or intimidating. He used to be a ruthless leader, now his presence has a sense of humanity and humility.

Talia's gaze returns to her, once her troops have settled and understand there is no danger. "You are the Reaper he said he was fetching?”

"I am. I'm Flame. The beast you caught used to be my mentor.”

A solemn look crosses the general's face before it becomes stern again, "He's this way.”

Without anymore words, Sean leads the way behind Talia down a short hallway slanted downward leading deeper into the earth that then opens up into a large central room three stories tall, each level with their own level of busy. They branch off into mine shafts, most having been freshingly dug into. She leads them up to the second layer where all the mines are blocked off and there is a heavy military presence here. Not oppressive, cautionary.

Most crowad outside a single choke point, a skinny mine shafts that leads into darkness, even from here they can hear snarls and cries of a wounded animal. She needs a moment to realize that was Grimm no longer sounding like himself.

The soilders stand alert and salut Sean who waves them off. After Talia's nod of conformation the six soilder that idle here relax and return to their posts, watching and waiting. Talia approaches one of the six, a tall bulky demon who's horns curl down the back of his head.

He sits off to the side, making arrows. His hands never once haulting their work even as he looks up, "General, Sir Cinder, he is still trapped at the back of the mine. He hasn't made any advancements as our last assault injured him gravely. I'm pretty sure he's made bed with this being his final stand.”

Part of her isn't sure she even wants to see him like this and every other part of her knows she has to. Grimm had no family but her. He had never been good with people and the life of a Reaper is a lonely one. It had taken him years to open up to her, for him to put down his walls and show her what was past the standoffish attitude and the assholery he would sometimes pull. For a long time, he was a sort of home for her. He taught her how to control her abilities. He showed her they weren't something for her to fear, that it was all just like breathing, second nature.

There is a hand on her shoulder as Sean peers up at her, a soft but determined look on his face, "You understand what must be done?”

She wishes she didn't. If only it hadn't come to this. She sighs softly, gaze downcast, "I do. He can't..." She takes a deep breath to hold back tears that threaten to flow, "...be permitted to live. Plus he shouldn't be made to suffer any more." She then looks past the soilders down the dark mine shafts.

He used to tell her the way he had always wanted to die. To go out in a blaze of glory on a battlefield fighting for his family.

Sean's hand squeezes her shoulder. He passes on a reassurance she hadn't ever wanted from him but she welcomes it in this moment, "Take as long as you need. I'll wait for you.”

All the soilders watch the opening as Flame steps before it, shedding the cloth she was wrapped in to reveal the multi styled flame tattoos that cover both her arms in red ink as she wears only a tank top under all those layers. Sean gently takes them from her before finding a spot against the railing to wait and watch.

She takes a moment to pull her hair up into a ponytail, maybe for practical reasons, maybe because she was procrastinating a little, and by the looks of the faces around her and the solemn emotions sitting at the forefront of everyone's mind they weren't about to question her either way. She could do this. She could grant him peace. She swallows her tears again and steps into the darkness head held high and on alert.

Her eyes adjust to the lack of light fairly quickly. It takes little time to track the blood trail that leads her down a narrow mine shafts that flares are into a closet size space as rumble is it's backing wall, the shaft having been brought down to trap him in.

She stands at the end of the narrow tunnel, about ten feet away from the sounds of pained whimpers and angered growls, gaze locked to the dark blood speard everywhere leading to the remnants of a once valued Reaper. He is stuck prone, laying on his stomach as his legs are trapped under the rumble, buried up to just past his waist. His shirt is just tatters. His back and arms covered in open wounds clearly inflicted by swords. Hair a messy brown pile on his head, the back of it caked in blood.

Then he looks up. His eyes are engulfed by the whites of them, face and teeth, he bares in a snarl, covered in blood. He growls and with the very little strength he has left he tries to pull himself free to no avail. His whole body jerks and jiggles in place as he digs bloodied hands and fingers against smooth stone in a failed attempt to make any difference in freeing himself.

She stands above him, about five feet away now, heart pounding in her chest as tears silently make their way down her cheeks.

He was trapped like a rat, pinned in place and awaiting death. With all he took from them, she's surprised they didn't just kill him themselves. She's glad however. He deserved a send off from family. His life was complicated, filled in shadows hiding a softness the cruelness of the world punished him for having. His life had been hard and full of tragedy, most of which was instigated by him. Grimm never could calm a situation. But she could never forget the kindness he had showed her.

He had given her a purpose outside of gang life.

Guiding lost souls on to the afterlife had taught her there were much bigger things in this world then herself. That the petty bullshit in her life was a waste of time. That hurting others for money wasn't how she should spend her immortal life.

She wipes her tears away on the back of her hand as she lowers herself to a squat. He had never stopped snarling but it seems he had used up his physical energy. He lay flat on his stomach upon the cool stone, torse heaving, arms limp at his side, as he still stares her down trying to intimidate her into leaving.

She wants to hold his face, tell him everything will be fine. Hoping that things would magical fix themselves or that this was just some horrible nightmare she was having.

She reaches out to him, ever so slowly, only for him to snap his teeth at her and roar in as close as he can get to her face. She lets her hand return to her side as she instead touches him in a different way. His mind has hardly any mental walls. It used to be a fortress. Even she couldn't get in. Now it's like stepping through a hole in the wall.

A perpetual anger sits at the force front as his mind is flooded in instincts and the need to kill.

Blood. He wanted so much blood. Even the lives he had already taken weren't enough. Never enough. Hurt and eat. Hurt and eat. It's a never ending cycle of violence and hunger. His thoughts hurt even as she pushes deeper and deeper preying to anyone that there was some sliver of him left. It's like pushing through mud as she finds these thoughts and feelings play on loop. He truly had become a mindless beast.

But she can't stop. Even as blood runs down her nose. What makes her stop is when he starts squirming and crying out in pain. She retracts her mind from his, throwing up her own walls as her whole body relaxes. She wraps her arms around herself for a moment as more silent tears roll down her cheeks.

He was gone, had been for a long time it seems.

He was a slave to bloodlust.

She sniffs, the tears nonstop for the moment.

He had fallen down such a dark path and part of her wants to ponder on the what is. What if she had come to talk to time about his behavior the first time he attacked Spirit. Could she have reached him like he reached her all those many years ago? But she had learned a very long time ago that wasn't helpful.

She takes a deep breath and rubs her face free of tears with her palms and the side of her hands as she stands.

She wouldn't let him suffer any longer.

He breathes deep and heavy below her, still laid upon the stone. She closes her eyes for the briefest of moments, thinking of the face of a young man that asked her out for coffee with the sole purpose of talking magic, and looks down at the dying animal he has become.

For a moment the space gains a faint glow of red, causing him to look up as her tattoos take on a dim glow before they brighten for a moment. The energy they channel travels down her arms, the light disappearing, to her palms that she presses together. Pulling them apart reveals the beginning of a staff that she reveals to full length swirling it in one hand, energy still pulsing through as she swings it to the side as the blade appears to complete her scythe.

She hadn't met any other Reapers that had chosen scythes as their weapons. Grimm preached that they were death's embodiment and should look the part. He shared that following how mortals protrayed death helped them feel more welcomed in the afterlife. It gave them a comfort to have that familiarity. Truly she had only picked a scythe for the looks, since watching Grimm fight had been like art to her.

"Grimm," She whispers, voice a little wobbly as she still cries, "I'm sorry things had to end this way. I never wanted them too...I'll...never forget what you did for me." She sniffs a little at the end, gripping the handle of her weapon with both hands as she perches the blade above them.

He stares up with empty eyes. While he still snarls and huffs, his body no longer fights. He looks upon the blade with an acceptance that makes her sob softly.

"Goodbye, old friend.”

Then with a seamless bend of the arms and flick of the wrist the blade slices through the air, his head removed from his shoulders. His head archs in the air for a moment before it thuds to the floor next to his motionless body. Now the only sounds in the mine shaft are her sniffles and soft, choked back sobs.

He had been the only family she had for a long time.

It wasn't till these past couple of years that she had found a new family within Sean and the lovely community he has been fostering.

Another lesson Grimm had taught her, one she would never accept fully, was that the life of a Reaper was full of loneliness and isolation. She lived that route up till recently and it had brought nothing but misery. His true belief in that being his life, aided in his death. She had learned the hard way many times that there was no shame in asking for help. Grimm never knew how, and she idolized him enough to believe he could handle things on his own.

It was very clear he couldn't. He let his anger and jealousy over Spirit consume him. She wonders if Sean feels guilty about it all. His neglect of Grimm had been the beginning of a terrible end.

She flicks the blood clean from the blade, twirls it idly before placing it in one hand, blade point downward. Then the blade shimmers before it disappears into energy that pulses in the staff that begins to shrink as soon as she touches her palm to one end. Once it is short enough, both ends are held by her palms as it vanishes between her hands that now press together. A faint glow starts in her hands before it traveling up her arms to settle back in place as her tattoos.

Then her gaze is immediately locked to the body before her as the faint, white glow pulls from Grimm's chest. An orb of flickering, and sparkling engery floats about five feet above the floor. She steps closer, fascination over taking sorrow for a moment. She'd never seen another Reaper's soul before. She then reaches a hand out, gently cupping it in her palm. With mortal souls she was able to see a flash of the life they lived and over all feel for how they carrier themselves through life. As a neutral bound Reaper it was her responsibility to help souls pass on to the afterlife pre her judging. Heaven, Hell, Between, and merging with the energy of the world.

His soul passes on none of that. She gains no new information. He was no longer a Reaper, but a Husk. That only left one option. His energy would merge in the world's, adding to life, and finally putting him to peace. She gives his soul a soft touch before she pulls back and he swept away in an invisible wind, disappearing from the space.

He couldn't even be granted another life.

She tips her head back the sobs ripping from her throat. She wants to scream, to lash out. Instead she stays in place, body shaking with a rage she doesn't fully understand, and a sorrow she cries out. She stays standing there, letting the sobs become hiccups and those hiccups to silent tears as she evens out her breathing. She isn't sure how long it takes for her to have calmed herself, but she does. She wipes her tears away on the back of her hands.

She believed he was in a better place now. He had always craved peace. Now he was one with the universe.

She sniffs and takes a deep breath before exhaling and turning to leave the small mine shaft. Once she emerges, she is met with a smaller group of soilders, only four now, General Talia counted among them. She stands against the railing facing the entrance along with Sean. They are talking amongst themselves.

A voice startles her from behind, "Is it done?”

Leaning against the wall a few feet from the entrance is the demon that had given them the update before she went in.

She meets his stern gaze with her tear stained one, "It is...He's in a better place now.”

"I'm sorry for your loss, Flame.”

Her attention then changes to Sean who offers her cloths back to her that she accepts, pulling them on haphazardly. She is thankful for something to cover her tattoos for once. She can't stomach to look at them right now. She just lowers her head a little at Sean who offers a hand on her shoulder for comfort.

The squeeze he gives makes her heart melt and before she can control herself she's engulfed him in a tight hug, buring her face in his shoulder. His hands settle on her back, rubbing reassuringly. She wished it was her girlfriend's arms she could have collapsed in but Sean offers comfort willingly. She buries her hands in fabric and shakes.

Grimm had meant so much to her. To watch him spiral, able to do nothing, had been heartwrenching. Now here she was, at the end of his spiral having hurt more than he helped. She hated that the end she given him had been believed to be fated. That a similar outcome awaited her one day.

It was sickening.

"It's alright. You only did what you had to do. He had brought this upon himself.”

She wasn't sure she fully believed that but she didn't have the energy to argue right now. Instead she wordlessly squeezes tighter, sniffles into his suit lapel. He squeezes and rubs her back reassuringly as she melts into the affection, eyes closed. This comfort he offered wasn't something she was about to turn away, even if a past self might. Most of her friends would have told her to buck up and move on, and maybe under different circumstances she might have welcome that. And once upon a time he likely would have been the first one to shame her for having feelings. Being in his arms now, in a hug that she sorely needed, she was thankful at least one of them was able to grow. He outgrew his toxic behavior decades ago and to think he couldn't change, at least she hadn't believe so at first, seemed ludicrous now.

He contuines to hold her, even as Talia rallies the soilders, taking the four of them with her down the mineshaft at a leisure pace, likely to retrieve his body. She didn't want to see it again. Once almost felt too much even if it was nessassary.

Sean then pulls her back a little, hands on her shoulders so they lock gazes, "Did the hug help? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She wipes her face on the fabric wrapped around her shoulders, sniffling a little, "It did..." Then her attention pivots to the General who is no emerging. She quickly looks away, bile tickling the back of her throat, "I, um, don't think I can see his body again."

He keeps a hand on her shoulder, now keeping her facing him as his free hand raises likely making the soilders halt their advancement. His gaze stays on her, "That's okay. Why don't you wait for me by the ladder? I have a few things to finish here then I'll take you somewhere nice we can talk. You're still a tea fan, Flame?"

She's a little caught guard but his suggestion. The last she had tea was with her late wife, his daughter. Another story that ended with her putting a friend to death. Tears threaten to breach again as she pats his hand on her shoulder, "Yea…yeah, I can do that...and tea...tea sounds nice.”

He smiles, a soft turn of the lips with minimal teeth that reaches his eyes. A gueinue smile. She was still getting used to seeing those on Sean, "If you change your mind, we can always head home."

Home.

She suppose the life she had made with his family could count as home. Then she thinks of Hope, her girlfriend and his daughter. She was home. She wonders if that's what he meant by that. She take s a moment to separate herself from him. He still holds a hand up as she steps back, she doesn’t dare look behind her.

She sighs then exhales, collects herself, "Just meet me outside. I need some fresh air."

He nods. They disconnect and with her back to the scene that was no doubt unfolding behind her, she makes her way through the tunnels back to the barracks where some soilders stare before they catch the redness in her face or the tears in her eyes. She can sense how a few approach with questions till one look is all that is needed for them to stay clear.

She readjusts the fabrics adapted around her and reapplies the goggles then ascends the ladder. Soon wind is whipping in her face as the storm still whips around. She struggles a few minutes with the hatch, the wind a force to be reckoned with, before getting it to close. She stands just above the lights, staring into their blinding color as her legs begin to carry her forward. The wind does little to stop her as she stands in the middle of one of Hell's many deserts. The sandstorm around her roars in her ears. She can barely hear her own thoughts.

It's a blessing for a moment, a silence that does nothing to temper the emotions building in her chest. Her vision is blurry as tears make their way down her face. Her sobs are drowned by the thunderous sandstorm as she stops just before the storm would swallow the lights. She knows not to stray too far.

She didn't know Hell like Sean did. He was born within the First Ring, spent centuries here as its ruler. He used to be malicious, ruthless, and power hungry. But even when it was ripped from him, he gave up the chase and began reconnecting with his children, raising more, and creating a life filled with love and understanding.

She takes a moment to soak that feeling in.

He had done some terrible things, some to herself but he had made up for it all and then some. She wants to believe this wasn't fated for Grimm. That it hadn't been for Zalgo, either. That it wasn't for her.

If whatever really was pulling all the strings could let Sean repent and start over, it could do the same for her. Couldn't it?

The roaring wind does little to block out the sorrow that courses through her at the loss of her mentor, . He showed what bottling up emotions can end in so she lets it out in the most instinctual way.

She screams, a roar that carries an anguish she's held her whole life. The sound of it is swallowed into the sandstorm.

She keeps going till her throat is dry and all she can taste is sand, but a weight has lifted from her chest. Talking it out would likely be the long her heal for all this but it felt nice to let that out. She fixes her fabrics, tongue moving about in her mouth, trying to produce slativa as she steps back closer to the hatch awaiting Sean. Whatever words he had to offer over tea, would help sooth her soul.

"I'll wait for you."

#my writing #writing prompt #Flame Pax #Sean Geehere #angst #just oc stuff

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shinidamachu · 3 years ago

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Hi Sid. I would love it if you could expand Kat's comment on how Kagome doesn't know how much Inuyasha loves her. He definitely shows her through his actions but not his words and I think Kagome wanted that, although knowing that Inuyasha is terrible with words. I believe that right after they reunite after 3 years, they had a good long talk where Inuyasha would say everything he wanted to say all that time they were together. That's my take, what about yours? ☺️

Hi there!

As Kat (@born-for-eachother) brightly put it, Inuyasha knows how much Kagome loves him, but she doesn’t know how much he loves her.

And you can find the answer as to why that is in your own question, when you say "he definitely shows her through his actions, but not his words, and I think Kagome wanted that."

I believe that happens because, at the beginning, Inuyasha and Kagome had very different, very incorrect ideas of what romantic love truly was.

Kagome's take on it was naive, immature and superficial. On the other hand, Inuyasha's was more cynical, fatalist and experienced (or so he thought). And this makes perfect sense for the people they were back then, for the life they've lead that far.

You see, Kagome grew up surrounded by love songs and romance novels and rom-com movies. Love always came easily to her, so she thought love itself would be easy and simple and exciting. It would be perfect and full of great romantic confessions, just like the movies, just like the books, just like the songs.

And let's not forget Inuyasha grew up with little to no positive interactions with other people except his mother. Trusting issues, intimacy issues, nonexistent social skills, you name it: Inuyasha had them all. And the one time he decided to give romance a chance, it blew up in his face rather spectacularly. It was all he had ever known, so he thinks that's how it's supposed to go. That love is supposed to hurt, break, burn or end. Usually all four.

Unlike Kagome, he thinks relationships are complicated, that it takes a lot of sacrifice and that it's not always worth it. And of course he would, after the things he's been through. It's a self defense mechanism, to put his guard even higher than it was before.

Because they come from such different — and dare I say opposite — backgrounds, their love language are also different. Kagome’s is words of affirmation while Inuyasha’s is acts of service.

Which is not to say Inuyasha never reaffirmed Kagome (”there’s no replacement for you” “trust me a little more” “I was scared [of losing you]”) or Kagome never did anything for Inuyasha (cooking him food, saving his life, dressing his wounds). What I meant is that it was usually the other way around: Kagome cheering him on, stroking his ego, reassuring him she liked him just the way he is and Inuyasha carrying her on his back, making her medicine when she’s sick, putting his fire rat robe over her.

So it's under those circumstances that they meet and eventually fall in love: Kagome wanting her first love to be this perfect, romantic guy that it's constantly sweeping her off her feet and Inuyasha desperately trying to repress his feelings as to not show any vulnerability.

They reach common ground with quality time and physical touch, but it doesn’t mean that this completely erases Kagome’s need for verbal reassurance. Especially when Kikyo came into picture, because her past with Inuyasha made Kagome feel extremely insecure and confused. Plus, Inuyasha used to reassure her of his feelings way more at the beginning, then it was toned down.

To top it all off, Miroku’s, Sango’s and particularly Shippo’s (beyond less important characters) remarks on Inuyasha’s love life didn’t exactly help her self steem, either. At the same time, you have Hojo constantly asking her out and Koga professing his undying love for her on the regular. It’s only logical for her to compare their behavior, even if in a subconscious level.

But most of all, because of the above, Kagome is completely biased and unreliable when it comes to Kikyo. There are many occasions where she doesn’t let her jealousy get the best of her, choosing to do the right thing in the end even if she struggles with it at first, but she does let it cloud her judgement. So much that everything Inuyasha does to show her he loves her (and it’s a lot) fly right over her head.

She focuses so much on Inuyasha going to Kikyo that she doesn’t realize he always comes back to her when he could have just stayed with Kikyo. She complains that when Inuyasha and Kikyo get together it’s like they’re stuck on their own little world, but that’s actually her relationship with Inuyasha she’s describing. She claims she can’t compete with everything Kikyo and Inuyasha lived together, but her story with him is blatantly more substancial. She thinks that when Inuyasha and Kikyo are alone they’re probably having a romantic date, but her own interactions with Koga are more romantic (at least from his side) than anything Inuyasha and Kikyo ever did alone after her ressurection.

After all, Kagome was there both times they kissed. The first kiss was Kikyo trying to drag him to hell and the second one was their final goodbye. I personally wouldn’t categorize them as romantic, but Kagome most definitely did. And one day I’ll make a post about how Inuyasha and Kagome’s jealousy concerning Kikyo and Koga are completely justified, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.

My point is that Kagome is a modern 15 years old girl who wanted to be swept off her feet by the boy she loves and when he didn’t live up to her expectations, she started doubting his feelings. Which is completely normal and continues to happen until she learns to read his little gestures for what they are: his way of professing his love.

When he comes back to her, what he’s really saying is that she is his home, she is the one he would give his life to if his life was truly his, she is the choice he’d like to make, she is the one he can’t stay away from. When he puts himself between her and Koga what he’s really saying is that he is afraid she’ll eventually realize she deserves better and finally leave him. When he spends time in her era, with her family and friends, what he’s really saying is that he wants to be a part of her life. When he carries her around, gives her his fire rat robe, takes care of her when she’s sick, what he’s really saying is that he treasures and appreciates her to a fault. When he protects her with his life, even though it’s promised to another, what he’s really saying is that she is the most important thing in the universe to him.

There was literally no one else he was closer to or that affectionate with. No one else he trusted that much. No one else he would show every side of him for. No one else he would wake up from powerful spells, dreams and illusions to return to. These aren’t fancy declarations of love, but the love is there nonetheless. Kagome’s insecurities just blinded her for it.

That being said, Inuyasha was bad with words, as it was to be expected from someone with his background. However, he is actually not that bad at expressing his true feelings for and to Kagome as we make him out to be. You can see it in the second painel above, but there are other examples through the series.

And let’s not forget this little gem:

Unfortunately, Kagome didn’t hear any of that. And it sucks because it’s not always that Inuyasha gets to be that forward about his feelings for her. Or about his feelings for anyone. But in Kagome’s especific case there is a reason for that. I’m once again bringing attention to the second painel. “I can’t afford lightness or peace.” The thing holding Inuyasha back from expressing his love more often is because voicing it makes it real and he doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. How can he promise anything to her when he has obligations to fulfill with Kikyo? I think he already feels guilty enough for being in love with Kagome and being happy by her side while Kikyo wanders around miserable and all alone.

But I do believe that, in the few times he lets himself be vulnerable and speaks up, it’s because Kagome taught him that it was okay to do so and that she was a safe person to talk to. I have no doubt that he grows to be more and more open with her with every passing day, but at the same time, it’s fine if he doesn’t say a word because eventually she learns exactly what his every action mean. He shows her he loves her, she knows that he loves her, but he still tells her anyway because he knows it’s important for her to hear it and there’s absolutely nothing holding him back now.

To summarize: it’s easier for Inuyasha to know how much Kagome loves him because it’s easier for her to accept, show and express her feelings. And it’s harder for Kagome to know how much Inuyasha loves her because it’s harder for Inuyasha to, first of all, accept he was in love, show his love in a way Kagome was used to and express his feelings as well and as often when he still felt so guilty about having them and wanting to be happy with the woman he loves.

#Inuyasha #Sidmailing #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #Inukag

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triptuckers · 4 years ago

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Fix her - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: kaz brekker x reader Summary: kaz sent you out to gather information, and you always return on time with the intel he needs. well, maybe not always. Warnings: angst, language, mentions of BLOOD, BRUISES, INJURIES, typical soc stuff, slight six of crows and crooked kingdom spoilers Word count: 2.2K A/N: hello my darlings it is I and I have read almost every book leigh bardugo has written in the past month. I am now hopelessly in love with jesper, kaz and nikolai. I'll be updating my character list soon! I still have a few wips but I don’t have any motivation / inspiration for those. so have my first kaz brekker x reader instead! enjoy reading :)

It was a rather easy job, really. Kaz had received word that the Dime Lions had an important meeting coming up. Because he always wanted to know what exactly was going on in the Barrel and with its gangs, he wanted someone to listen in on said meeting.

Normally, he would send Inej. She was the obvious choice when it came to gathering information. But she was still recovering from a rather nasty cut in her side, and so you had offered to go.

Inej insisted she could go. But all it took was you raising your eyebrows when she moved to sit up, only to wince and flop back down onto the bed. Though he didn’t quite like it, Kaz had assigned you to the job.

No one said it out loud, but everyone knew there was something between you and Kaz. Neither of you had spoken about it. There were just a lot of lingering glances, smiles from you and what you think was almost a smile from Kaz, and you even had stolen his coat once when you had lost your own. He didn’t seem to mind though.

When you had left that evening to listen to the Dime Lions meeting from the shadows, Kaz had sent you a look that you knew all too well. He reserved it only for you. It was him telling you to be safe. You’d respond with a wink that basically meant always am.

The rest of the crows started a card game to pass the time as they waited for you to come back. They didn’t worry, you were always careful and are considered one of the most dangerous criminals in Ketterdam. They knew whatever happened, you could handle yourself.

But after Jesper had lost four rounds of card games, the tension began to rise between them. Most meetings typically didn’t last this long. Still, no one said anything as they started their fifth game. You would show up eventually, probably bringing valuable insight with you.

After two more games, there was still no sign of you. Nina was the first one to speak up.

‘She should have been back by now.’ she says, absently looking out the window into the dark street.

‘Have a little faith, Zenik.’ says Kaz, though on the inside he was filled with worry. He shook it off and focused on the game again.

More than once he’d scolded himself for allowing you to get this close to him. For putting so much trust in you, especially after what happened the last time he’d really trusted someone. But he couldn’t help it. It was like he was drawn to you like Jespers trigger finger was to his revolvers. He couldn’t help it.

Still, he knew your skills. He knew you were smart, and a fighter. Whatever was going on with you out there, he had no doubt you’d show up at the door in a few moments, cheerfully announcing what good intel you’d gathered and wondering how many card games you’d missed.

But you still didn’t show. And one by one, they all lost their interest in the card game. They fell silent and looked out the window or fiddled with their empty glasses. The tension in the room grew. Until Kaz suddenly stood.

‘Finish the game.’ he says. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’

‘I’ll come with you.’ says Jesper, getting up as well.

‘No.’ says Kaz, earning a frown from Jesper. ‘Just me.’ he says. And with that, he pulled on his coat, grabbed his cane and was out the door.

‘Right.’ says Jesper, sitting back down. ‘Anyone fancy another game? I have a feeling I’m gonna win this one.’

They played three more games. They were tired, and it was well past midnight. Still, none of them went upstairs to their rooms. Too anxious to play any more cards or to even have a normal conversation, they settled for silence and more drinks.

Jesper was fiddling with his rings and bouncing his leg. Nina had her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Matthias was trying to not look at Nina. And Wylan was attempting to build a house out of the cards.

Finally, they heard the sound of the door opening. All of their heads shot up and turned to look who it was.

Kaz stumbles awkwardly through the door, carrying you in his arms. Nina gasps softly and Jesper murmurs ‘Saints’ as their eyes land on your body.

It’s bruised and bloody, and your eyes are shut. Was Kaz too late?

‘Clear the table!’ says Kaz loudly, limping toward it with you in his arms.

Instantly, Matthias and Jesper seize the glasses and cards off the table as Wylan pulls some of the chairs back to make room. Kaz lays your beaten up body on the table and turns to Nina.

‘Help her.’ says Kaz.

But Nina is looking at you body, bruised and bloodied, nothing like the cheerful girl that buys her waffles and laughs as she teases Matthias. It’s almost impossible to find a spot on your body that doesn’t have a wound on it. There’s slashes from knives everywhere, bruising around your neck and the side of your face, and to top it off, blood is slowly leaking out of a bullet wound in your leg.

An expression of horror is written across Nina’s face, her hands pressed against her mouth.

‘Nina.’ Kaz presses on. ‘I said help her.’

‘Kaz, I don’t think-’ stammers Nina. ‘Come on, fix her!’ says Kaz loudly, surprised of how much anxiety can be heard in his voice. Fix her, he thinks, because I need her to fix me.

‘I can try but-’ ‘Do it.’ says Kaz and then he turns away, he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Memories of Jordie flood over him, mingled with memories of you. Your laugh, how he fights his own smile every time you wink at him or send a flirty comment his way, the way you smell. How you look at him when he catches your eyes.

Kaz shuts his eyes, attempting to drown the memories out. Taking deep breaths, he tries to focus on the voices behind him.

‘Jesper get the bullet out of her leg.’ says Nina.

‘Just pull it out?’ questions Jesper.

‘Saints, you’re Grisha, Jesper, pull the fucking bullet out!’ says Nina in a loud voice laced with fear.

After a while of listening to Nina’s murmuring and instructions to others, Kaz finally turns back around to look at you. A wave of nausea hits him unexpectedly and he swallows hard.

Nina had treated most of the wounds, with Jesper’s help. But your entire body is still covered in bruises, and now bandages as well. Nina’s cleaned the dried blood off of your face, but your arms and legs are still covered with it.

They’re all nervously looking at Kaz.

‘I don’t know if she’s going to-’

‘Don’t.’ says Kaz, interrupting her. He needed to think straight. He needed someone to help him focus. Normally, you’d be the one to do so. But you’re in no condition to softly talk to him to reassure him everything is going to be alright. He needed to be his own soothing voice tonight.

‘Matthias.’ he says. ‘Bring her up to my room. Nina, go with him, see if there’s anything else you can do for her. Jesper, get Inej up to speed. Wylan, clean this mess up before someone notices.’

Without waiting for their reactions, Kaz walks up the stairs to his floor. Several moments later, followed by Matthias, who is carrying you, and Nina and Jesper. Jesper disappears into Inej’ room, while Matthias and Nina continue to walk the stairs to get to Kaz’ floor.

When they arrive, Matthias carefully places you on Kaz’ bed as he was instructed. For a while, the three of them look at you. Until Matthias and Nina go to their rooms as well, leaving Kaz alone with you.

None of them had questioned why he insisted Matthias brought you to his room and not your own. Of course, they were dying to find out exactly what was going on between you and Kaz, but they all knew tonight was not the night to push him.

As he looks at you, Kaz feels the strong urge to touch you. Lay his hand on your cheek, to see if it’s still warm. But he can’t. Instead, he merely pulls out a chair and sits down next to the bed. He lets his eyes travel over your body, wondering how much pain you’re in, and who the hell was responsible for it.

He needed you to wake up. He needed you to tell him who did this so he could send his biggest most muscular members of the Dregs to them. Kaz wanted them to hurt the way they had hurt you.

His mind is running at an alarming speed. But eventually, even Kaz can’t fight his tired body anymore, and he falls asleep in an uncomfortable position in his chair.

From that night on, he instructed that you shouldn’t be left alone. He doesn’t want you to wake up and realise you’re on your own. The next day, it’s business as usual. The members of the Dregs are coming and going like they always do. The familiar flow of people helps to take everyone’s mind off things, but as soon as they’re by your side, they remember.

Nina had tried her best to heal you, but it still took you almost a week to wake up.

When you wake up, your first thought is that your entire body feels way heavier than it’s supposed to. You try to open your eyes but it’s like your eyelids are made of lead. After a couple more tries, you finally open them.

You take in the room, and realise it’s not your own. Kaz.

Why would you be in Kaz’ room? Why aren’t you in your own room? And why does your body feel so damn heavy?

And then all of the memories flood back. Like a tsunami, they catch your breath in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You try to inhale deeply, but it’s like your throat is sealed shut. You start to panic when you notice you can’t breathe.

Then a pair of hands land on your shoulders and gently push you back onto the bed. Whoever it is, is talking softly to you. You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing.

Then the voice yells out, but from much farther away, like they’re standing in the doorway, and not next to the bed.

‘Kaz! Nina! Get up here!’

It’s Jesper.

You try to ask him what’s going on, but it’s still hard to breath normally. You try to focus on something else. Jesper’s voice trying to calm you down, his eyes looking into yours, but nothing’s helping.

Then you hear a sound you know all too well. A familiar stumbling, of someone walking up the stairs with a cane.

Seconds later, Kaz rushes into the room and roughly shoves Jesper away, taking his place next to the bed.

‘Who did this to you?’ he says.

His voice is that familiar rasp, and normally you love it. But now it just makes your head hurt. You shut your eyes and softly shake your head, trying to drown the sound out.

‘Y/N, who did this to you?’ says Kaz, more firmly this time.

‘Kaz.’ says Nina’s voice. ‘Let her rest. You can talk later.’ Nina’s voice is softer, more gentle than Kaz’. You try to focus on it as you open your eyes again.

Kaz is close. He looks down at you and you’re surprised by the look in his eyes. Was that a hint of worry you detected? You open your mouth to say something, but Kaz is faster.

‘Y/N, tell me who did this to you.’ says Kaz.

‘Couldn’t see their faces.’ you manage to say in a hoarse voice. Your throat feels dry and you start to cough. Immediately, Nina moves to get you a glass of water and helps you to drink it.

‘Did you notice the way they moved? How they walked? Were they Dime Lions? Could you see any tattoos? What about scars? Clothing? Voices?’

Kaz keeps on firing questions at you, but you can’t focus on his words. Your head feels heavy and you feel your eyelids slowly closing again.

‘Kaz.’ you say softly. ‘Tomorrow.’

You expect him to press on, to find out who did this to you. But instead, he looks at you and holds your gaze. He doesn’t say anything, he merely nods at you. You know what it means. Despite his harsh voice and the million questions, he’s glad you’re safe. And the ones who did this to you will pay for it. He’ll make sure of it.

You offer a weak smile before closing your eyes, already drifting off. You hear two pairs of footsteps leave the room, and assume Nina stayed behind to check on you.

The chair next to you gets moved back and you hear how someone sits down in it. When you feel something brush against your fingers, you assume it’s Nina checking your pulse.

But then you feel a gloved thumb on the back of your hand. It slowly rubs over your skin. To most people it wouldn’t mean anything. But to you, it meant the world. A tiny smile reaches the corners of your mouth, as you fall asleep.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

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huntergatherercreator · 3 years ago

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Could you do a mob Tom Holland reacting to the reader where the reader is over working herself lately and forgets to sleep, eat and stay hydrated properly and that sort of stuff. So, when they're busy stalking her they see that she left her front door open and she's literally collapsed on the floor out of exhaustion and started to sleep there? Fun fact: That might end up being me by tomorrow or after 2 days approx.

Hey lovey, thank you so much for the request! I know it's taken me a couple of days to get around to writing this so hopefully you've had a lovely rest and some downtime to reset after being so busy. I do feel slightly called out by this request if I'm honest because, same. Just remember to be nice to yourself, your body can handle a lot but it needs a little looking after too. Drink your water, have lots of yummy snacks, and most importantly have a nice long sleep!

I hope this is close to what you were after.

Stay safe and take care 💜💜

-------

1,339 words

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you stumbled to your door. It was well past nine, you’d only meant to stay an extra hour at work but, like it had for the past three days, the time had got away from you. Every time you’d made to leave there was another issue, another customer, another delivery. Before you’d even realised it you’d worked almost double your shifted hours each day and you be lying if you said you weren’t feeling it now. Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you fought with the lock. Stepping into the hallway you gratefully dropped your bag and fished it out.

‘Why are you only getting home now’ the message read. Then a second later ‘Have you eaten yet?’

Shoulders slumping you pushed the door closed and flicked on the light. You didn’t know how to respond to him. He didn’t normally message to check up on you like that but you didn’t blame him for worrying, or resorting to spying on you. You’d barely had the energy to write back more than one word answers to him, and that was if you got five minutes alone to actually check your phone. As you re-read his words your stomach churned with hunger. You hadn’t eaten yet. After a second you realised you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a drink of anything either. Scrubbing a hand over your face you sat heavily on the bottom step. The intention of kicking off your shoes evaporated as your legs stretched out in front of you and relief flowed through them. Resting your shoulder against the wall you stared past your phone, eyes zoning out as you tried to think of what to say to him. You just needed a second to think. Smothering a yawn your eyes fluttered closed. Just a small second and then you’d let him know you were OK...

***

Tom stared at his phone. It had been twenty minutes since he’d text you. It wasn’t like you to not respond, or to be getting home this late constantly. You’d waved him off with reassurances that you were just busy with work but something about the situation wasn’t sitting right with him. Dialling your phone it rang out and disconnected, unanswered. He knew he shouldn’t doubt you. You were too good a person to lie to him, let alone go behind his back and hide something, but the evasive way you’d been acting had him unsettled.

Standing he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. The man speaking faltered and cleared his throat. Tom levelled him a look, daring him to question his actions. If he wanted to walk out of a business meeting he damn well would. Buttoning his jacket he pointedly made eye contact with the other twelve men at the table. When no-one spoke he clapped a hand on his brothers shoulder and stalked from the room.

His chauffeur drove him to your house as fast as the traffic would allow. He called you again. Twice. Three times. Growling a profanity he pulled up the tracker app he’d installed on your phone and checked the location again. It still said you were at home. A chill crept in as an errant thought slid into his mind. What if you weren’t alone? Shaking it off, he shoved the phone into his pocket and impatiently waited as the car turned into your street. He had the door open before the car had properly slowed.

Shoving the gate open he hesitated as he took in the dark windows. The only light was in the hallway. Reaching into his jacket his fingers brushed against the cool metal of his gun as unease swirled in his gut.

Trying the door his breath caught as he realised it was unlocked. Hand tightening on his weapon he gently nudged it open until he caught sight of you stretched out on the stairs. For a second his heart constricted, stomach plummeting as he took in how still you were. Then you huffed a sleepy breath and shifted to get more comfortable.

Dragging a hand through his curls he let out a long breath before laughing softly. He was an idiot. The shock of thinking you were unconscious, or worse, felt like a kick from karma for ever doubting you. Watching you so deeply asleep, still wrapped in your jacket, he knew he’d made a mistake by not checking up on you sooner.

Shutting the door quietly he flipped the lock. Kneeling down he slipped off your shoes, tucking them neatly on the rack before winding his arms around you. Lifting you easily he cradled you close as he carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. Toeing the door open he left the light off and wound his way to your side of the bed. As he lay you on top of the duvet you jolted, suddenly wide awake.

***

A startled yelp left you as a dark figure loomed over the bed. Hands flying up to ward them off you caught them hard in the gut. A whoosh of air left them along with a groan.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Tom’s voice broke through the sleep fog still clinging to you.

“Are you OK?” Pushing yourself up your hands fluttered around him, not sure where was safe to touch him. His fingers caught yours, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles.

“I should be asking you that.” The bed shifted as he settled on the edge. In the darkness you could barely see him but you could feel his gaze boring into you.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled biting back a yawn.

“You passed out in the hallway,” he admonished. “You’ve clearly not been taking care of yourself.”

Fingers going limp in his hold you dropped your head guiltily. He wasn’t wrong. You had pushed yourself too far this time.

The bedside lamp flared to life, searing your eyes for a second until they adjusted. When you found the courage to look up he was watching you with pensive stare. You knew what he must be thinking. You were a mess. A huge contrast to him in every way. Where your hair was a mess from rushing about all day, his was perfectly dishevelled. Your clothes were rumpled from being hastily thrown on this morning and his suit was crisp and sharp even after a full day of work.

“I guess I’m just going to have to take care of you.” He said it with a straight face but you flushed at the double meaning.

“You don’t have to do that, Tom. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do tonight.”

“None more important than you.” His lips quirked when you stared dumbly at him. Shrugging out of his coat he dropped it at the end of the bed and undid his cufflinks.

“Are you hungry, baby?” Your throat dried up as you watched him roll up his sleeves. When you didn’t answer he raised an eyebrow, hands going to his hips.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good.” He crossed to your dresser and pulled out your favourite pyjamas. “Put these on, and get under the covers.” Taking the empty glass from your bedside table he disappeared for a minute before returning with it filled to the brim with water.

“I want this gone by the time I get back,” he ordered.

“Where are you going?” you asked, suddenly worried.

Cupping your face he kissed your forehead. “Relax. I’m going to make you something to eat.”

Slumping back against the cushions you smiled up at him.

“I can’t wait to see that,” you teased. He’d never personally made you anything before. Everything usually came straight from his personal chef, or a nearby restaurant.

“If you don’t get changed and drink your water you won’t get anything,” he warned.

Your stomach growled loudly in protest.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you,” he promised.

-------

Taglist: @rosie-posie08 @woahmrstark

#mob!tom holland #mob!tom #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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yandere--stuck · 3 years ago

Text

Grim - Yandere!Grimdark!John x Reader

[Warnings: Suggestive, graphic body horror, mentions of blood and gore]

---

John had watched you die. Not long after he had died himself.

He had seen the dead body of his father, lying on the floor beside Rose's mother. The scent of wine mixed with the stench of blood and death, making the Heir wrinkle his nose in disgust.

He didn't know why he didn't cry. He didn't cry at a lot of things. He didn't know why. Maybe he never learned how.

Or, maybe, it was the comfort of your presence at his side. The feel of your arm brushing against his, the sound of your voice hitching in shock. Even if he no longer had his father…. At least, he had you.

Maybe Dave had been right, the game had been bad news. They probably shouldn't have played it. Really, it had only brought ruin into their lives - into the lives of all it touched.

But it's not like they were the only harbingers of the apocalypse. And if you all hadn't played it… He could have lost you. It's not like he wanted to die, or that he didn't care about his dad or his friends, but you were the most important thing in the world to him.

Really, the main reason he had wanted to play was to finally see you, one on one. Rose was his best friend, but he felt disappointed that you weren't his server player, and jealousy at Jade being your client player. But, finally, to close the loop, he was your server player.

His excitement in seeing you, taking in everything about you, made him lose himself, and he ended up smashing his face against the screen of his laptop. The exhilaration and euphoria of seeing you and serving you almost overpowered the terror at the prospect of you dying, of you not making it to your planet in time.

But, you did eventually make it. The relief made John's heart burst with joy, hugging his laptop to his chest, trying to imagine the warmth of the machine was your own body heat. He made goo-goo eyes at you through the screen, resisting the urge to kiss the pixels that made up your form.

He had to continue making progress, but he was terrified of you getting hurt - so, he alchemized his glasses to include a screen that displayed your status in the game. This way, he could check up on you and carry you with him, outside of pesterchum, at least.

Vriska kept pestering him, eventually convincing him to fall asleep on his quest bed, saying something about "god tiers", apparently it was something even higher than the usual tiers on one's echeladder.

The next thing he remembered was awaking on some sort of chess board-esque battlefield with some little chess guys on it. Luckily, he was able to borrow his dad's car in the meantime (good thing his dad had gotten on his ass about *finally* getting his driver's license… Though, did he really need one if he was controlling it with his new windy powers?) And he had even managed to reunite with dear, sweet, precious Liv Tyler! Though… She was a lot more robot-y than before.

The thought of sharing her with you made him absolutely giddy! And the idea of you being a co-parent to Casey… God, it made him smile so hard his face hurt!

And! He had even gotten a cool hammer! You'd certainly be impressed by his strength and his cool moves. John would prove himself to be a great, protective boyfriend for sure!

A looming darkness caught his attention, and he felt himself pulled toward it. It seemed to come from a large castle shrouded in darkness. It didn't seem to be natural, like from a thunderstorm. It didn't seem to be from a fire either, the darkness neither smoky nor smelt of burning.

His eyes widened as he focused on something in the midst of the darkness - and he let out a gasp when he realized it was you!

He kicked into gear, rushing to meet you. You were dressed in your dream planet pajamas - and you looked so cute in them! As you turned, hearing him approach, he had to fight the urge to not fling himself at you, pulling you into a tight embrace as he spun you around in his arms.

He shook himself out of his daydream as you spoke to him, explaining that you had seen the darkness, as well, and wanted to investigate. It seemed to be coming from within the castle. Of course, John offered to accompany you inside. If anything went south, he'd be there for back-up!

He had to hide his grin and blush as the two of you ventured in, you sliding up beside him for reassurance.

Walking through the cavernous halls of the castle, you were horrified to find the bodies of so many innocent people strewn about, blood and viscera covering the walls and floors. The bodies, as alien as they may have been, were clearly. This was a massacre.

But, beside you, John felt… Nothing. It was sad, sure, but… You were still alive. And that was all that mattered, really!

You jumped when you stumbled upon a living person, John moving in front of you protectively. You held your breath as the figure turned, revealing…

Rose?

Though, she looked much different than what little you had seen of her. Her skin had turned a ghoulish gray, her eyes as black as night, and her eyes seemed to glow, illuminating her face. And a darkness seemed to surround her. It emanated off of her, stretching above her like tendrils.

Could… Could Rose have done this?

John seemed completely unfazed, greeting Rose with a wave, saying something about her "finally going grimdark."

Rose let out a noise that sounds something like a giggle, her lips quirking upwards. She tried to speak, but the words that came out… They weren't even words, you think. It sounded fuzzy, but also incredibly, painfully loud. It didn't sound like any noise a human could make, like TV static blaring in your ears, or switching through radio stations with no signals. It was suffocating and loud and- everywhere. It felt as though Rose's voice was everywhere, all around you, inside of you.

You were sure you let out a scream, but you only heard Rose's voice - even as you screwed your eyes shut and clamped your hands over your head, all you could hear was the noise…! It felt as though your ears were starting to bleed.

John's hands clamped down on your shoulders, bringing you back to the moment. You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling heavily as you tried to ground yourself.

Rose's eyes were full of guilt and concern, a pained expression on her face as she turned away.

As you tried to ground yourself and recover, you barely noticed John caressing your shoulder with a thumb. Nor did you see the deadly glare he sent to the back of Rose's head.

It's not like he didn't love Rose, but he loved you far, far more. If she ever hurt you again… He couldn't be held responsible for what he'd do.

The both of you followed Rose through the castle, the girl not able to bare turning around to face either of you. Still shaken up, you kept your head down, not wanting to look at the bodies or gore. John held you close to him, stroking your arms up and down to comfort you.

He had to fight not to smile, the feeling of your skin on his was electric.

Eventually, Rose guided the both of you out to a balcony of sorts - and you stopped dead, gasping in horror.

John's father and Rose's mother… Both dead on the ground. Murdered.

You couldn't help it, you turned to face John. The man's face was one of shock, his breathing shallow as he processed the scene in front of him.

His dad… He couldn't believe it. He had just seen him. He was right there… He felt his heart break.

Oh, and what was worse… You had to see something this awful! Oh, you poor thing! He had to get you away from here…!

But, everything happened so fast. All at once, a figure appeared - a man with the face of a dog and the body of one of the many, murdered chess people, armed with a sword. Instinctively, you stumbled back - and John turned, reaching out for you, terrified of losing you.

Before he could even call out for you, his words got choked up in his throat, replaced with nothing but blood. Pain exploded from his abdomen and his back, ocean eyes widening as they focused on the sword going straight through him.

The figure pulled the sword free, the Heir grunting in pain as his organs were ripped apart, blood gushing from his open wounds. As John fell to his knees, trying desperately to hold himself up, he spat out blood onto the white, marble floor. Slowly, he sank to the floor, eyes growing dim as, in his last moments, he tried to find you.

---

Coming back to life, John found, was a lot like waking up - the slow awareness of consciousness, the disorientation. A sudden burst of energy hit the man as he felt himself be rejuvenated, colors exploding across his vision. He blinked as he regained his sight, the world fading in from white. He swiveled his head, trying to find you.

In the distance, he could see Rose and the dog-man battling over the battlefield, blasting off magical attacks at one another. His heart pounded in his chest.

If she was there, then where were you?

Looking down, he surveyed the balcony. The body of his father, Rose's mother, and-

Oh. Oh, God. God, no, please!

The Heir felt tears strain at his eyes, his mouth pulled into a pained, horrifying grimace. He fell hard to his knees, kneeling above your body.

"No, no, please!" He choked out a sob. "Please, please, wake up!"

John clutched at your body, fisting the fabric of your pajamas in his hands as he shook you, desperately trying to get you to regain consciousness. He could feel his eyes and cheeks begin to sting with tears. His breathing was shallow and fast, having to use his powers to try to even it out.

He sobbed, all words incomprehensible by now. He let out sobbing screams as he clutched your body close to him, already feeling the warmth leaving you. He pressed, desperate, messy kisses to your lips and face - but, it was no use. Your real body and dreamself had both died.

He doesn't think he had ever cried before now. Only you made him feel so strongly. He loved you. He only loved you. He needed you. He couldn't lose you.

He couldn't.

Without you, life was meaningless. You were his only reason for playing this game. His only reason for doing anything - for living, for breathing. You were perfect. You were everything.

But, without you, there was no point. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

Grief and rage filled him to the brim. He grit his teeth and he screwed his eyes shut, eyebrows knitting together.

The air tasted of electricity, and without his knowing, the dark clouds that swirled from above dripped down and encircled him like an inky blaze.

And John let out a scream.

Or, at least, he had tried to. His cry had been cut off by inky, black tendrils forcing their way inside of his open mouth. The tentacles came from everywhere, from the gloomy clouds from above the darkness that surrounded the man.

The eldritch beings that had given the Lalonde her current state had felt power within John's rage and sorrow, as well. The outburst had drawn their attentions - feeding off the darkness within him. They would remake him in their image, as well…

John gagged as the tendrils snaked their way down his mouth and down his throat, his neck bulging from the amount of vines forcing their way down his throat. John could barely breathe, writhing in desperation to get air into his lungs. He tried to use his powers, trying to suck in air through his nose in an attempt to somehow get oxygen through the vines' air-tight hold in his throat - only to let out a strangled, muffled scream as tendrils slipped up into his nose, reaching up into his brain.

If he could have, John would have gurgled or spit up around the tendrils, but he didn't even have the ability to do even that. The Heir's limbs spasmed as he tried to reach up to yank the tendrils out, only for more to snap the man's arms against his torso. Even more came to wrap around John's legs, restraining his legs and tying them together.

More tears bubbled up from his eyes as he felt the tentacles curled around his legs, thighs, stomach and chest - almost caressing him, as if gently teasing him. The tender touches only served to contrast the agony of the tentacles spreading further into his body, ripping through his throat and into his stomach and intestines.

The pain was so unbearable that if he could have, he would have puked, but the tentacles blocking his throat and mouth would have never allowed him to do so.

John swore he could feel himself bleeding internally, but in truth it was the feel of the darkness spreading all throughout his body, taking hold of him, corrupting him. He could the darkness clog his arteries, wrap around his bones, fill him up to the very brim with itself - somehow, despite the unknowable agony he was in, John had managed to stay aware, but only barely.

Until, the tentacles that had filled up his nose plunged deep into his brain. The man's body jerked wildly, twitching and spasming as the darkness overtook and corrupted his mind. Dark grey overtook and crawled up his skin. His dark hair slowly turned from his natural hair to a stark white. His eyes, forced to say open, lost their irises and pupils as they were lost in an impossibly bright, growing white.

As the tendrils finally burrowed completely into John's body, deep inside him - a horrible scream erupted from his body, making the ground below him shake and crumble, inky darkness flowing like smoke from his open, shrieking maw, now filled with fangs.

---

You awoke with a start, taking deep gasping breaths. God, your head hurt, and your back wasn't exactly feeling any better. Felt like you slept on stone… Rubbing your head, you looked down, confirming that you had, in fact, slept on stone. It had a distinct symbol on it, and looking at the front of your new outfit, it seemed to share the exact color and symbol.

You stilled suddenly, blinking, realization washing over you. An ominous presence seemed to loom over you, making a shiver crawl up your spine. You turned, and jumped in place.

It was… John. Or, what looked like John. He grinned, looking upon with an eyeless stare. It reminded you of how Rose looked before. Had… Had whatever happened to her, happened to him, too?"

"John… What's going on?" You asked, eyes flitting around in confusion. Somehow, John had taken you all the way to your planet after you…

You…

You died, hadn't you?

"John…?" You settled your focus back on him, letting out a gasp as he pulled into an embrace.

A rumble seemed to emit from within his chest… Was… Was he purring?

You settled into his hold, trying to hide your nervousness. "What happened back there? What happened to you?"

John's expression flickered to one of nervousness, before opening his mouth to speak.

You let out a yell of pain, the sound all too familiar to you. It suffocated you, overpowering even your own yelling, incomprehensible, ear-bleeding static that seemed to drill straight into your eardrums, into your mind, and your very being.

You had only realized John had stopped attempting to speak when he clasped his hands over yours, easing them from your head and holding them in his own. Whimpers bubbled up from his throat as he leaned forward, nuzzling you.

You laughed nervously, detangling your hands from John's to pet at his now-white hair. "It- it's okay, John. We… We just need to find out how to get you back to normal, okay? And then, we can get back to Rose and the others and-"

You were cut off, letting out a soft grunt as John pushed you back down onto your quest bed. A powerful purr rumbled from within him, leaning down to kiss and lick at your neck.

You were stock still for a moment, before letting out a shocked laugh, not knowing how to react. Your hands wormed your way to his shoulders. You chuckled, trying to push him off of you. "John, I- now's really not the time-"

In one swift movement, the grimdark Heir was able to pin your wrists by your head, letting out a playful growl as he straddled you.

"John…" You could whimper, voice dying out.

John only responded by diving in, kissing and licking hungrily at your neck and shoulders, occasionally pressing hungry kisses to your face and lips, swallowing your whimpers and moans.

John's purrs seemed to surround you on all sides as he dug his teeth into your neck, claiming you as his own.

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wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

Text

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike.

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

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#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #the perils of being mr nesta archeron

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years ago

Text

you’re still here : s.r

spencer watched you die in his arms, believing you were gone forever. but when he learns the truth that you’re alive in london, he can’t help but wonder why you’ve hidden away for so long. (2.4k)

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Salem, Oregon

“No, no, no Y/n, please,” Spencer pleads as he holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as your body becomes weaker by the passing second. “please don’t go,” His cries intensify as his arms shake, watching as your eyes begin to close. “no, please.”

“I’m sorry,” You manage to whisper as tears fall from Spencer’s eyes, the last sight you ever saw as your eyes closed, and your head fell back.

“No,” Spencer mutters, shaking you lightly. “no, you can’t be, no!” His cries turn to yells as Morgan approaches him slowly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as it shakes violently.

“Reid,” Morgan sighs, afraid to look down and see you lifeless in Spencer’s arms. “it’s over, I, I’m sorry.”

Looking over his shoulder, the rest of the team with solemn faces walk over and shield around Spencer whilst the police take care of Jason Lodgings; your murderer.

“Come on, Spence,” JJ speaks softly as she kneels beside Spencer as tears fill her eyes.

“I’m not leaving her.” Spencer states firmly, still not letting you go from his embrace.

“Reid,” Hotch calls out, his voice firm as he stands tall, watching as Lodgings walks away in handcuffs, glancing down with sorrow at the blood oozing from your cream jumper, dripping onto the wooden floorboards. “we have to go.” Hotch tells the team as they slowly rise to their feet, not wanting to start an argument with their superior.

Closing his eyes, Spencer releases a shaky breath as he gently lowers you to the ground. He pushes your hair out from your face and brushes his fingers across your cheek for the last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” Spencer whispers to you as he stands up and turns around, ignoring JJ’s open arms and walks out.

London, England - Two years later

It was always going to catch up with you, this life was a mere facade for your sake to have a sense of normality, but normality was never something you wanted.

Nearly two years had passed by since they last saw you. You hadn’t seen Garcia flirting with Morgan, heard JJ talk about Henry with such joy or avoided the stern looks Hotch shot over when you joked with Rossi and Emily for two years. But the one thing you’ve missed more than anything was seeing Spencer smile. You missed everything about Spencer, but seeing his smile brought a sense of indescribable joy.

This was never going to last forever, and you knew that coming into the situation. Hotch and Emily helped you figure out what to do, where to go in order to keep you safe. But keeping you safe meant everyone believing you were dead in the eyes of Jason Lodgings and his team, otherwise, they’d kill your team, your family off one by one just to get to you.

Having experienced the trauma from Emily’s ‘death’ you knew this wasn’t going to be easy on the team. You were lying in Spencer’s arms, close to death as you heard him cry for you. Every part of your body screamed to react, to tell him you’d see him again soon. If only you could have, just to provide him with some sense of relief in the long term. Yet if you did, it would’ve ruined the entire plan.

Wandering through Hyde Park, you knew he was close by. Maybe he had seen you already and was too afraid to believe it. The last time you spoke to anyone you knew was a year ago in Paris with Emily.

* Paris, France - One year Ago *

“How are they all?” You question as she sits down opposite you, files in hand as she places them on the table.

“They’re healing,” She answers, sliding the files across as you grab your bag, putting them inside without any hesitation. “it’ll get easier, but they’ll always miss you.” Emily sighs knowingly. “That contains everything you’ll need to get to London and set up a life there. But please, don’t trust anyone easily, Y/n.” She warns you as you nod.

Rising to your feet, you shrug your bag back onto your shoulder as you look down to one of your oldest friends for the last time. “Thank you, Emily.” You smile to her, wishing you could say more.

“Stay safe, okay?” She tells you, unable to form more words as thousands hover behind her lips. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

With a nod, you turn on your heels and walk down the street, not daring to look back as you’ve got to carry on.

Exhaling deeply, you bury your hands further into your coat pockets. Autumn was approaching as the Summer nights came to an end. You can’t help but kick through the piles of leaves that line the pathways as children giggle with their parents behind you.

“Did you know after June 21st, the Summer Solstice the sun’s direct rays will begin to shift southward from the Tropic of Cancer toward Earth’s equator?” You can’t help but tense as you hear his voice, filled with pain behind you. “As a result, the summer days become shorter, but that isn’t noticeable for a few weeks until late August when we near Fall.”

With a heavy heart, you begin to turn around and face the one person you owe the most to.

Your eyes remain locked on his feet, an old pair of sneakers lined with dried mud. Slowly, you raise your gaze past his trousers and toward the knitted sweatshirt vest, one you remember vividly even after all this time. As your eyes reach his shoulders, you can see his hair is long again and you can’t help but want to reach out and run your fingers through it like you once did.

“Hi,” You breathe out, unable to meet his scared gaze. “hi, Spencer.” You mutter, tearing apart the tissue in your left pocket as your nerves spread through your system, igniting undiscovered anxieties about this situation.

Spencer remains silent, taking in the sight before him. He never thought he’d see you again, the last time he saw you he held your lifeless body in his arms as he cried for you to stay with him. Yet you’re here, in London, alive.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You motion to the nearest vacant bench, and Spencer walks alongside you without saying a word.

Sitting down beside him, the gap between you feels too big. You’re used to the times of sitting together on the jet, resting your head on his shoulder and drifting off peacefully.

“Been up to much whilst here?” You ask, unsure what else to say. You can see out of the corner of your eye he’s looking straight ahead at the squirrels scaling the trees like buildings in the city.

“Why?” Spencer breaks his silence, his voice firm with you which takes you back by surprise.

“I,” You pause, lowering your head in defeat as you stare at the faint scar on your hand from the initial knife wound that Jason struck you with. “I had no choice.” You admit, hearing the gunfire as you blink away the memory.

“Everyone has a choice, Y/n, always.” He reminds you and just hearing him say your name causes your heart to drop. “You could’ve told us, we would’ve kept you safe, you know I,” Spencer pauses as he exhales his frustration. “we could’ve protected you.”

“I know, Spence,” You mutter, now turning to look up at him for the first time. “but I couldn’t do it, Hotch and Emily assured everyone would be safer this way.” You try to explain as you see the pain that lines his eyes, the heartache held in his gaze as he focuses on you.

He looks older, still sleep-deprived, but there’s a hint of happiness in the lines that surround his lips. A reassurance that he does have good days, the one thing you wished he'd have since you left.

“So you just left knowing we thought you died in my arms? Do you have any idea how I felt?” He’s angry, and rightfully so. “I, I thought I meant more to you than that, Y/n.” His anger subsides as his voice softens, his defences down.

You can’t help but reach out as you look at your hand on top of his, not daring to move it as you study his reaction.

“You’re the most important person to me, Spencer.” You reason, feeling his hand take a hold of yours, resting it in his palm as he curls his fingers over your hand, refusing to let go. “That’s why I had to let you believe I was gone, as Lodgings’ team would know, they’d always know and you would be in danger because of me.”

Spencer shakes his head. “We would’ve found a way, we, we,” He stumbles over his words as you squeeze his hand.

“You think me faking my death was plan A, Spence?” You chuckle, noticing a faint smile crossing his lips. “That was plan Z, actually version 3 plan Z if we’re being specific.”

“Did you ever plan on coming back?” Spencer quietly questions as his words linger around you for a moment as you slip your hand out from his.

“What did Emily tell you, Spence?” You ask, looking up at him as you hide your hands in your coat pockets, picking at the tissue once more.

“Besides the fact you’re alive and in London?” He nervously chortles, catching you rolling your eyes playfully. “She said you were doing okay, and that you were safe here.”

“I am, with Lodgings’ team having been sentenced, I’m no longer a target to them. My life is my own again, I can finally carry on living it.” Looking up, you watch as pigeons fly overhead, swarming down on the chunks of bread left for the swans. “But I made an agreement with Hotch, I’d stay away for at least three years. Three years to ensure my safety and for Lodgings’ team to be dismantled and dealt with.”

“Three years.” Spencer repeats, and you nod along. “You’re not planning on coming home, are you?” Your silence answers his question without you needing to respond. “I understand, Y/n. Three years is a long time to be gone from us all, and people change.” He reasons to himself more than to you. “I, we all thought you were gone, and finding out you’re alive I,” His voice trails off as he clenches his jaw, fighting his emotions that have been pent up for so long.

“Spence,” You mumble his name as tears fall from his eyes. “I want to come home, I do. I just don’t know if it’s home anymore.”

“Home is where the heart is.” Spencer comments.

“Elvis Presley.” You chuckle, lifting your hand up as you wipe away his tears, feeling him tense momentarily from your touch.

“Please don’t go, Y/n.” Spencer whispers as he lifts his hand up, resting it on top of yours as you cup his cheek. “I want to be selfish, I don’t want to lose you again if I don’t have to.”

Tears glaze your eyes as Spencer scans your face for any uncertainty. “Six months, Spence.” The words are barely audible for anyone passing by, but you know he heard you.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days.” He nods as you lower your hand from his cheek, but he still keeps his on top of yours. “Then you’ll come home?”

“I can’t promise, Spence.” You know lying would be useless with him, you were never the most confident liar around him. “But before I go, I just want to tell you something.”

“Anything.” Spencer responds in a heartbeat, his entire body facing you now as you lower your gaze and take a steady breath.

“When you held me in your arms as I was,” Even after all this time, you still struggle saying the word. “well, fading, there was one thing I couldn’t help but think as you pleaded for me to stay.”

Spencer edges closer, your thighs touching as the previous gap between you both on the bench is gone. “What was it?”

“I wanted to tell you how much I care for you, how much I love you. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything.” Your eyes remain locked on his as you pour your heart out to him, knowing if you don’t say it now, you never will. “But I didn’t have enough life in me to say all that then.” You nervously laugh. “So I thought I’d say it now, as it’s still true. You are a wonderful person Spencer Reid.”

A comfortable silence falls between you both as echoes of children's laughter surrounds you. And for the first time in years, you feel perfectly content.

“You know, Rossi once told me something,” Spencer speaks up, looking down at your hand as he brushes his thumb over the scar Jason caused. “scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going.”

“Wise words from a wise man.” You comment quietly as Spencer pauses.

“I know you have scars, Y/n. Externally and internally. But I’ll always be here, wherever you chose to be.” A small sweet smile lines Spencer’s lips as you focus on him, wishing there was so much more you could say. “And I’ll always love you, I’ll always miss you. But if I know you’re healing, then that is all that matters.” He lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly before lowering it back to your lap, unaware of your heart-shattering in your chest.

“I’ll see you soon, Spence.” You tell him as he stands up, hands resting in his jacket pockets as he sways back and forth on his heels.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days, Y/n.” He reminds you, and you can’t help but laugh and Spencer joins in too for a moment and everything feels okay again, just for a second. “I’ll be holding you to it.” He smiles to you one last time as he sees the glint in your eyes falter. “Bye Y/n.”

“Bye Spencer.” You wave to him as you turn around, walking down separate paths once more, unsure when you’ll next reunite.

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flickeringart · 4 years ago

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Virgo Sun and Moon Combinations

Planets represent different energetic principals in the life of an individual – the signs show what filter these energies express through.

Having an inner planet (or luminary) in the sign of Virgo gives the personality a shrewd, analytical quality. No matter what other placements the person has, the methodical and adaptive nature is going to come through.

To simplify;

The Sun represents individuation, ideal self-expression and conscious self-actualization.

The Moon represents instinct, emotional nature and personal needs.

Virgo Sun – Aquarius Moon

This person’s path of individuation involves coming to understand the components of physical life as intimately as possible. This means that a sense of self is found through in depth observation of what works and doesn’t work in terms of handling everyday life. A lot of emphasis should be put on following the empirical trail of cause and effect, but not to establish a deterministic view that life is fundamentally working like a wound up toy and that there’s no free will. The person should seek to understand life in order to work with it in order to gain a sense of autonomy. Emphasis should be put on attempting to do the right thing in terms of carrying out behavior. The emotional temperament is quite level, not too dramatic unless it is to prove a point or initiate change. The instinct is to understand one’s own needs on an intellectual level and relate to them as abstractions, as phenomena of the human condition. There’s likely a strong urge for independence and self-possession in this person. Being dominated and disrespected would be the worst, especially since there’s an idealistic streak to the temperament. Behaving in a way that fails to indicate that certain essential humanitarian values are in place makes this person’s skin crawl. The person needs space in relationships more than anything – being burdened by too much confusion or chaos doesn’t work well. Some people are comfortable with intensely personal experiences, which is not the case for this person. There has to be space around everything that is experienced, a kind of detachment from the up close and personal. One could probably navigate any terrain as long as one wasn’t “in it” completely. Change is always felt to be possible to this individual. The mind or the “soul” has to be held in the greatest esteem as to not let it be tainted by the limited and temporary. Although the temperament is idealistic, the path of selfhood is more concerned with the realistic. It’s concerned with the resources and conscious cultivation of health on a practical level. In many ways, this combo lends itself well to living in alignment with convictions while remaining open to reconsidering and redoing things in order to improve well-being. The fixed temperament stabilizes the personality while there’s a continuous striving to become more nuanced and flexible as part of the individuation process. Overall, there’s the potential to be of true service in the world, and to show an ethical and liberal disposition. One should be cautious of the tendency to become obsessed with perfection in oneself and other people to the point of detriment. It’s good to have high standards but they shouldn’t become a burden.

Virgo Sun – Taurus Moon

The person would strive to develop the observational and analytical faculties throughout life while being temperamentally suited for the long-term grind. A stable and functional base of material safety is sought first and foremost to meet the personal needs. As it relates to individuation, there’s more of an emphasis on curiosity and processing information rather than merely settling into a comfortable life. The person would find a sense of selfhood through caring about organizing and structuring things and to make it work practically. Usually there’s a lot of reassessing and adjusting that is going to be part of the person’s life path. The intellect is supposed to be sharpened and put to use as to facilitate a smooth process of living. The emotional nature is quite compatible with what the definition of the ideal self, which makes it so that there’s not tug between potential and innate temperament. The overall personality is earth based, which comes with all the positive qualities of practicality, duty, good work ethic, patience, stability and serenity. On the flip side, there are the negative qualities of stagnancy, blind stubbornness and avoidance of change. The more the person self-actualizes, the more flexibility and adaptability is going to show. The innate temperament is quite fixed and reliable in that the person will instinctually gravitate toward what’s familiar and constant. Too much unpredictability and uncertainty makes the person worried and anxious. The person needs to know that he or she owns things permanently and be reassured that some things aren’t going to alter with time. There’s a need for permanence that has to be considered and met. Physical comfort is extremely important and should not be overlooked. Fortunately, this is also part of what it means to be stepping into one’s identity. To organize the physical components of one’s life situation and to make them work in harmony as to secure overall health and well-being. It’s important to not fall into the trap of micro managing everything and cultivating a sound judgment on what is worth obsessing about and what is not. With a double earth combo it’s advisable to not become too dogmatic and fixated on ritual. It’s easier said than done, because it’s true that the routines that we stick to can make or break us, get us to where we want or in the opposite direction. It’s good to attempt to take a more broad perspective and detach from the outcome enough to not be blinded by the fear of not doing things right. Life has it’s own invisible intelligence and not everything depends on us being on top of things in order to prevent disaster.

Virgo Sun – Scorpio Moon

The person strives to be self-reliant, methodical and reasonable. The person is set on a path of self-sufficiency and a path of acquiring skillsets that are useful. The person should strive to anchor his or her life in service – being receptive to what any given situation calls for in terms of adjustment. That which can be done should be done in this person’s opinion - it should be done with humility and genuine desire to be of assistance. Virgo Suns are people who strive to better themselves, to facilitate and make way for the optimal expression of life. This requires openness and discernment as well as good observational ability. In combo with a Scorpio Moon, the personality is set up for laser sharp focus. The emotional nature is intensely linked to the person’s individual self; everything that is felt is taken personally. The person is quick to spot threat and very careful to let people in. Vulnerability is guarded carefully. One might be prone to quickly be triggered into defense mode and as a result, attack or isolate in order to cope. The person is probably afraid of their own ability to feel and afraid of other people’s ignorance and lack of awareness. There’s usually a lot of pent up anger, or more accurately – rage. There’s not much that this person forgets because there’s the experience of being permanently damaged by things. Emotions are given enormous importance and are not just something one goes through. It is who one is on an innate, instinctual level. For this reason it becomes very important to this type of individual to control emotions because they are so intense and fearful. This can become a vicious cycle because the more rigid and controlling one becomes, the more the emotions are suppressed and allowed to fester. The analytical Virgo identity might try to rationally deal with the inexplicable intensity, trying to make sense of things intellectually. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t because the conscious mind can only brush the surface of what is going on most of the time. However, with this combo it seems like practical skills will have to be developed in order to navigate the emotional climate. The person may go through daily deaths and rebirths; feelings of being in control and out of control yet there’s probably a deep need to transcend all of it. There could be a lot of dabbing in the mysteries of life, the underpinnings of reality. This combo likely produces a reserved individual that has a strong magnetism and shrewd judgment. The person would strive to look put together and impeccable – strive to have an eye for the details and technicalities of things. No doubt the person would come off as intimidating because of the secretive and intense vibe, not to mention the proclivity to be critical and realistic. There would also be the impression of strength and efficiency on the more positive end of the bargain.

Virgo Sun – Leo Moon

The practical busybody is combined with an open display of emotion. This combo could be a person who is concerned with making things work practically while needing to get recognition and attention for it. These signs together present a bit of a paradox because Virgo is the humble servant and Leo is the divine child. The person strives to be of service – to be someone who is self-possessed and willing to be put to use in the world to serve. The personal temperament on the other hand is dramatic and big – one wants to be treated as someone special, someone who is talented and worthy of admiration. The person might experience a disharmony within relative to these distinctly different pulls if one hasn’t worked out a way to make room for them both yet. If the need for appreciation isn’t met, the person might turn sulky, bitter and resentful. There might be an attempt to create drama or inflate the emotional experiences in order to make people take notice of the inner experiences. Leo Moon can be the epitome of a drama queen, as it tends to blow things up in order to enhance a sense of significance. However, the Virgo ideal is not on board with any of the drama and disarray. A solar Virgo wants to actualize qualities of proper conduct and proper living. This usually doesn’t include exaggeration or unnecessary demonstrations of one’s worth. In Virgo’s mind people should know their worth, not resort to “shameful” self-expression and self-centeredness. One’s worth is shown through diligence and intelligence in the way one handles life. There’s more of a respectful approach to Virgo, although the person might slip-up in moments of stress and become overly critical of the environment and of other people. In general the person has high standards and could turn sour if other people get more love (attention) and rewards for their work and efforts. The person can’t stand not being given their due – even if one probably claims that “it doesn’t matter”. The key is, of course, to not focus so much on others and focus in on one’s own uniqueness and talents. One doesn’t have to prove or compare oneself to other’s so called “success” - it never really works. It’s wise to hone in on what makes one feel strong and important, on what generates confidence and steer one’s thoughts and actions in that direction. The path of self-actualization is to develop useful skills in order to serve life and to serve the self. The lunar needs will benefit greatly from the confidence boost of “being good at something” which might lead to less friction felt on an emotional level. Acquiring skills will make the person feel worthwhile and of value to others and the self.

Virgo Sun – Libra Moon

The orderly and detail oriented ideal self is combined with a relationship- oriented temperament. This combo is the definition of “perfection” or “pleasantness” because the person is preoccupied with other people and creating social harmony while striving to be humble and put-together. The person probably has an exceptionally likable air. There’s probably an innocence that is unmistakable that stems from a need for harmony and an ideal of orderliness. On a temperamental level, the person needs to be liked and will do anything to gain other people’s approval. This is not done by down right agreeing with everything other people think - it’s done through skillful diplomacy, of defending an ideal of fairness at all costs. Friction is unbearable to this person and there’s always an attempt to make it go away by adjusting and modifying. There’s sensitivity to roughness because the person craves the light and easy more than anything. Overall the personality is very unsuited for coarse and “less than civilized” behavior. The person is set on perfection when it comes to planning, processing and relating to other people. The sensitivity to imbalance can be both a blessing and a gift. On the one hand it can make others feel judged, on the other hand it can make them feel respected and protected. There’s always a tendency with the Libra Moon to not take sides but to always side with the idea of the ideal and attempt to adjust things accordingly. The Virgo Sun doesn’t operate from an ideal but from the standpoint of what could facilitate everyday life and lead to optimal and well-rounded health. Virgo works from a standpoint of examining life and taking action according to what is practically needed in the present. The person would appreciate neat simplicity. Everything that is done should have a purpose, ideally. However, the instinctual needs might occasionally push toward indulging in pleasure for pleasure’s sake. It might not be the most practical and healthy choice that is made from this space, but there’s little risk of over doing it since it all stays within what is considered to be “right” according to a certain standard of pleasantness. Moderation would be the unconscious program this person is running on. It is accomplished by constantly checking the self to evaluate what is working and not working. The person’s ultimate fulfillment lies is adapting and adjusting to evolve and become better through trial and error.

Virgo Sun – Capricorn Moon

The process of individuation is characterized by constant improvement, of adjusting and modifying components of physical life in order for it to be purposeful. The innate temperament is concentrated, serious and restricted. There’s probably difficult for this person to let emotions flow freely without attempting to keep them in place. There’s fear of sensation getting out of hand and hindering one’s ability to keep up with one’s ambition. There’s an innate need to achieve and accomplish something tangible that will meet one’s needs but it seems to require effort and temporary deprivation. The concept of “work” is ingrained in the person. Nothing is free of charge. One can’t expect to get any true fulfillment through luck– that’s just not how the world works. One has to organize and limit the self in the right way in order to yield concrete results. Safety, comfort and satisfaction are not gained through letting things be. The base line is always misery and disorder but one can work upwardly to reach heights of joy. If anything, this kind of person has the potential for making something happen in the world of form through deliberate strategy. The Virgo Sun seeks to be of service to be genuinely helpful in terms of work while the Capricorn Moon provides an innate work ethic and a patience to see things through when the going gets rough. That being said there’s always a risk for depriving oneself too much with a Cap Moon. A lot of guilt and fear can lie at the core of motivation, making the work more destructive than constructive to the person. It’s very important to not let the concern of failure dominate one’s whole existence, although it’s easier said than done with this combo. Self-care and self-acceptance play a big role in living a happy life – without a dose of ease along the long road of life the goal won’t be worth it. With this combo there’s the proclivity for judging and critiquing excessively to the point of it becoming depressing to the self and to others. It’s not always helpful to jump in and be the fixer of everything - sometimes things don’t have to be forced, they can be trusted to work themselves out. Being busy isn’t always the most productive; sometimes space is needed to receive some clarity on how to proceed. Taking action and going to work on something is what this person is going to excel at. Assessing what a situation needs and providing it will feel wonderful because it’s in alignment with one’s ideal self. Although the emotional temperament is strained and austere, it’s deeply invested in doing what is “right” and not being too demonstrative about it.

Virgo Sun – Cancer Moon

This combo reflects a gentle and humble person that is instinctively caring and keen to be of service. There’s going to be something pure and innocent about the person, which is not to imply that one exudes weakness, merely that one is self-possessed and sensitive. The person likes to be someone who can look after him or herself, but at the same time craves to be cared for by another person. There might be a strong need for close personal relationships with a simultaneous striving to rely on one’s own capability and discernment. On the one hand, the person would like to rationally observe and think and reach conclusions on his or her own – to take action according to the gathering of facts. On the other hand there’s a tendency to come off as needy and moody, to let complaining and whining take over. A Cancer Moon is a tricky one, because it has a direction and an agenda but it won’t pursue its needs upfront. It pursues closeness through displaying sensitivity and vulnerability and appealing to people’s sympathy – not necessarily in a clingy way though. A Cancer Moon usually offers understanding and emotional support in return for being listened to. They don’t tend to judge people for feeling, but they certainly condemn that which is harsh and attacking. Instinctively, the person is defensive rather than assertive. The Virgo Sun would help to keep the person keep occupied with something concrete instead of staying stuck in protection mode. The solar Virgo always seeks solutions and answers; they aim to be resourceful and effective. More than likely the person would develop great skills to deal with overwhelm and mood swings through organizing the daily life in the right way – managing diet or routine in order to remedy the worst of it. The person would likely have an air of being “a good and decent person” without any frills or excesses. Cutting to the point of what is important and avoiding the unnecessary makes for a good life. It’s the little things that matter; the day-to-day living that is treasured the most. Being able to enjoy the ordinary is what this person does the best. Truly, the person just want to be caring and of the utmost use when it comes to their own and other people’s well being. There’s great potential for intuitively sensing what others are experiencing emotionally which blends well with the desire to be of service. This person is not only concerned with the physical but with the emotional as well – the soul has to be fed first and foremost.

Virgo Sun – Aries Moon

The ideal self is methodical and practical while the instinctual self is impulsive and assertive. There’s a lot of energy to this person that needs an outlet. There’s a thrill that’s experienced through projecting and extending energy outwardly. What this person needs is very simple, to be protruding and uncompromisingly expressive. Usually one gets away with it because it is done in such a genuine and uncalculated manner that it won’t produce long term grudges in other people. The person is very direct and forceful temperamentally, but it’s not sprung out of festering emotion. One moves on and forgets quite quickly even though things can get heated in the moment. The ideal self, as represented by the Virgo Sun, is however not entirely compatible with the instinctual Aries mode. Virgo is quietly observing and getting things done in order to purposefully put things in order. It’s deliberate and thoughtful in action and method. Nothing is left to chance because life is too important to not take seriously. There are too many components and factors that are necessary to make up a good life – the devil is in the details. The Aries temperament can unfortunately function counter to the Virgo ideal, causing a great deal of tension and frustration within the person. Instinctually, the person is not humble and doesn’t like taking advice or asking for help. One just wants to express for the sake of expressing – it doesn’t have to be perfect or profound in anyway. Emotionally the person just wants to be allowed to be direct and honest without having to modify behavior. To have to mold oneself to a social or societal standard is a nuisance because it denies the spirit within to be what it wants to be at any given moment. This combo would indicate a person who is impulsive and competitive in nature but strives to be meticulous and careful. It could become a little confusing, not only to the person in question but to others as well. On the one hand there’s a modest and analytical self that seeks to have everything in order, on the other there’s the need for letting out the force of energy because one has so much of it. When there’s too much energy that wants out it is usually a risk of being too quick or hasty as to ruin whatever one is working on. Fortunately the Virgo Sun might provide the necessary influence to take a step back and carefully assess how things should be done to produce the best results. One might have to keep in mind that physical life requires some precision not only force.

Virgo Sun – Gemini Moon

This combo makes for a mentally active and busy individual. There’s always something going on with this person, there’s restlessness and sensitivity to the environment. The person lives through the intellect – it is one’s primary tool of operating. It’s great for interacting and communicating, learning and acquiring skills but it can also be a burden. If there’s too much stimulation and an overload of information that has to be processed the person doesn’t cope well. Mental fatigue is the single biggest risk for this person. It’s very difficult to stop the mind from constantly running. The person needs to be stimulated and becomes bored if the mind is not fed “quality food” on a daily basis. The person strives to be of service, to put acquired skills to practical use. The person is probably highly esteemed because of one’s casual yet methodical approach to life. Somehow this person would always land with their feet on the ground no matter how chaotic things get. The personal process of individuation involves being resourceful and useful. Whatever the occupation and life situation, the person should hone in on the analytical and processing skills. This would be the most fulfilling, no matter the circumstance. On an instinctual level there’s less of an emphasis of putting one’s skills to use and more of an emphasis on being stimulated. In a nutshell the person simply needs to talk and write and communicate without any serious regard of the outcome. Temperamentally, the person is better suited for creative endeavors than mere methodical and systematical ones. Temperamentally, there’s a need to use the mind and freely conceptualize of things. The personal ideal however, is more deliberate and critical. The person should strive to develop a more grounded approach that is not too eccentric and fanciful. The mundane and ordinary is what stands as the ideal. Cultivating humility and a good work ethic would prove rewarding. Since both the Sun and Moon are mutable, the overall personality would be open to adapting to new situations – there’s a desire to progress and evolve with this combo. Rearranging and reinventing would be appealing. The person is very skilled at taking what’s in front of them and making it work somehow. There’s both a creative-intuitive streak and a detail-protocol- obsessive streak that can be found in this individual. There’s a bit of friction between these two modes of approaching life, but it can serve to stimulate action.

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Virgo Sun – Virgo Moon

This person is a Virgo through and through in terms of personal ideal and temperament. Daily routine and self-sufficiency would not only be what is sought as an ideal but what is deeply needed for this person to feel safe and emotionally fulfilled. There would be an urge to exude capability and intelligence, a need to be on top of everything that has to be done to secure the order of physical components. This is a person that can be trusted with making sure that nothing has been overlooked or missed in the process of organizing or putting together something important. On the downside, the meticulous and detail-oriented disposition can result in the person being tightly wound and stressed. The most important thing is to keep things simple and to the point, which of course requires a whole lot of sorting through the irrelevant details of life to get to the important bits. There’s no end to the process of discerning and adjusting. Other people might be extremely appreciative of the honest and humble quest for order and correctness, but they would not be as appreciative of the critical and nit-picky tendencies. Virgos are very observant and nothing escapes their scrutinizing eyes. This would not only be intimidating to others but it could become a burden to the person in question as well. The act of judging and labeling in order to make sense of things makes for a tense atmosphere with no room for mistakes. The person should take care as to not intellectualize and analyze everything because it leaves no room for freedom of movement and spontaneity. The desire to have everything be perfect is not always beneficial because it allows for no relaxation and trust in life. Having to monitor and control everything only leads to more and more problems to manage. Some things are out of one’s control and one can’t be efficient to the point of nothing ever going wrong. Of course, this doesn’t mean that it’s not worth trying. With this combo there will be a perfectionistic tendency present whether one likes it or not. The person would be well suited to work with something that requires refined skills and a sharp intellect. One would do well with things that can’t be left to chance, that depends on accurate observation and alertness. In relationships there might be shyness and reservation – one would prefer to talk about things that one is familiar with, that falls under one’s domain of expertise. Treading into unfamiliar territory often makes the person uneasy and insecure.

Virgo Sun – Pisces Moon

This is an interesting combo because Virgo and Pisces are opposite signs. The person’s path of individuation leans in the direction of developing skills and methods for handling physical life in a proper way while the instinctual nature is ethereal and diffuse. Emotions are constantly fluctuating and gripping the person from out of nowhere. There’s intimacy with the transient, which conjures up feelings of sorrow and being robbed of the beauty the world has to offer. Yet it is in the frailty that beauty is revealed and it touches this person deeply. Although the person feels the most like the ideal self when there’s efficiency and order present in their life, on a temperamental level there’s a longing for oneness that can border on destructiveness. There would be a strong tendency to romanticize life, to be consumed by fantasy rather in the cold and unglamorous reality of the physical. There’s a polarity conflict between the personal ideal and the personal temperament. The ideal involves practicality, usefulness and moderation while the innate nature is soft, boundless, bittersweet and resigned. The process of individuation does not accommodate for the emotional nature, which makes it so that the person has to consciously make room for both without forgetting about one or the other. It might be easy to project one or the other onto the people in one’s life because the polarity is too difficult to contain within oneself. The person might not like being described as soft-hearted even though it would probably be an accurate description. Capable, self-possessed and skillful would be traits that the person would like to be associated with. Intellectual, analytical and shrewd would be traits that resonate well with the ideal self that wants to be actualized. The person would likely be very sensitive but unwilling to openly show it or admit to feeling any powerful emotional reactions. With this combo it’s particularly important to not try to control or criticize unruly emotions too harshly because it will only enhance the inner disharmony. What can be done however is to deliberately make room for creativity and free flowing activity as to emotionally purge and process everything that is going on. Health is not only about routine, diet or exercise – it’s about being present and open to feeling life unconditionally without any attempt to fix things or put them in order. For this person it’s important to allow emotion to have a free outlet – preferably through some creative medium. Whether it’s art, music or poetry something else, there’s enormous richness that is waiting to be channeled.

Virgo Sun – Sagittarius Moon

This person has a life path of managing mundane life and perfecting methods of living while the temperamental nature is individualistic and spontaneous. This obviously presents a conflict because the path of self-actualization requires concentration and the temperament is too boisterous and freedom hungry to be bothered with tasks that require detailed knowledge. The person needs to live in a big way, on the wings of faith, yet would find that one keeps returning to the theme of living humbly and responsibly. The person would love to learn, experience the world and live without another thought of tomorrow because this is the need that sits at the core of the personal emotions. Freedom is very important; in the sense that one must feel that one has free will. This means that chores and strenuous labor must be done because one has willingly taken it on and not because someone else has demanded it. Being tied down is the worst experience. Variety is essential to this person’s well-being. If it’s withheld, there’s nothing that prevents the person from leaving the situation or stop caring about it all together. There’s a casualness and boldness to the emotional nature that will have varying effect on others. Some will appreciate the simplicity of it; some will resent the insensitivity that it entails. The Virgo ideal would temper the boldness of the Sagittarian instinct slightly because one would consciously prefer to be seen as humble and modest in expression. However, sometimes reactivity will get the best of the person and the Virgo ideal is thrown out the window. When there’s not too much emotional charge and pressure and one has space to consciously choose how to be, the Virgo qualities are going to front more easily. There’s a general proclivity for studying and learning with this combo. From the Virgo end it stems from a desire to be helpful and of service in honor of life, from the Sagittarian end it stems from a spiritual quest to understand and explore the totality of the universal self. Ultimately, the enthusiasm and inspiration that is innate to the person is fueling the ideal of dealing with physical life effectively and with confidence. The tension created between the two signs stimulates action and dynamic activity. The person is controlled and outgoing, careful and impulsive. Life is taken seriously, but it’s also just an opportunity to have fun. It would be important to make sure to not restrict the more adventurous streak of the personality too much, otherwise it might come out with force due to excessive repression. It’s much better to make room for the more instinctual needs before they make room for themselves. Certain needs, if ignored for too long, will operate unconsciously and steer life “off course”.

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mightyavngrs · 4 years ago

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don't do that again | poe dameron x reader

summary: a broken promise and a mission gone wrong

warnings: mentions of a panic attack (stay safe <3)

a/n: hope you guys had happy holidays! here's a belated christmas gift :)

masterlist | taglist

You laid silently in your bed, heavy eyes trained on the alarm clock that stood in your nightstand. 1:45, 2:36, 3:18... the time passed and you couldn't help the voice inside your head telling you that every hour gone by the probability of Poe coming back safe and sound lowered.

He was supposed to come back a week ago. Maker, you knew it. You knew this mission wasn't going to go well.

Your legs carried you through the resistance base as you furiously made your way to Poe's quarters. It was late and most people had already retired to their rooms but the few members in the hallways threw confused looks your way. As you got to Poe's room, closed fist ready to bang on his door, the thing opened before you revealing a very excited Poe Dameron whose smile disappeared the second his eyes met yours. You caught his wrist, pushing him back inside the room with you before closing the door.

"Y/n, what happened-"

"Tell me you didn't take that mission." you demanded, your raised voice unrecognizable to your own ears.

"Wait, what? This is the most important mission of my career i thought you'd be happy i-"

"Poe this is the most dangerous mission anyone in the resistance has been assigned in years."

"You think i can't do it? Is that what this is about?" he questioned in shock, failing to keep the disappointed look that formed in his face.

"No! Maker, Poe, you're one of the most skilled people this rebellion has seen but this mission could just be an ambush for all we know! I mean collecting intell in heavy-guarded enemy territory from someone the resistance hasn't even heard about? Do you realize how dangerous that is?"

"Yes, y/n, i do. You know i think you're forgetting i've been a part of this rebellion for far longer than you have." he snapped, voice dangerously low and your eyes couldn't help but widen at the hostility in his words.

"Why are you being so aggressive? I'm just worried about you." you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears already forming in your eyes. Your anger for his stubbornness now fully replaced by concern. "I know this is important to you and you know i wouldn't be saying this if i didn't actually mean it but i have a bad feeling about this mission, Poe. Please stay. Just this once." you practically begged, hand moving to cup his cheek before he harshly brushed it away.

"I think you need to go, y/n."

And with those words you were out the door and on your way back to your room. Although hurt, you weren't too worried about Poe's outburst. You guys had promised each other long ago never to leave for a mission without saying goodbye, even if you were mad at each other. He wouldn't break that promise. "Just needs to cool off." you thought to yourself before allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

When you woke up the next day it took you a second to process what had happened the night before, but once you did panic filled your senses. You quickly got out of bed, clumsily getting ready before starting to make your way to the hangar, your eyes frantically searching for any sign of Poe or the falcon.

"Hey, y/n! What's wrong?" Rey's voice broke you from your thoughts as the jedi made her way towards you.

"Where's Poe?" the question left your mouth without hesitation and the look that formed on your friend's face told you all you needed to know.

"He left for his mission an hour ago."

"No. He wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye. We promised we wouldn't do that." you muttered feeling Rey's hand on your arm as she gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sorry, y/n."

After hours of staring at the alarm clock you sighed. "No way i'm gonna get any more sleep tonight." you thought to yourself, swinging your legs over the side of your bed after deciding a walk through the hangar would be a much better waste of your time. The hallways were deserted and if all the equipment didn't look so modern you would've thought you were walking through an abandoned resistance base.

Finally arriving to the hangar you started your walk through the area before your eyes landed on a beaten up millennium falcon. You violently shook your head, figuring the sight was just another trick pulled by your tired mind to torture you a bit more, but when the image of the spaceship didn't disappear you felt your blood run cold.

And then you were running through the hangar and towards the beloved ship, quickly punching in the code to open its door and before you could call out for your best friend's name you were met by an obnoxiously loud BB-8. Between the mess that were the noises produced by the small droid you were only able to pick out three words. Ambush. Poe. Shot.

You only had time to scream for BB-8 to go and get help before you were sprinting through the ship. Once you finally arrived to the cockpit your eyes landed on your best friend lying on the ground. You fell to your knees by the pilot's side, releasing a shaky breath once you confirmed he was, in fact, still breathing. Tears were starting to cloud your vision by now, and you felt your chest getting heavier by the second. You tried your hardest not to let the panic settle in. This was most definitely not the time for a panic attack; Poe was injured. He needed you. He needed you applying pressure to whatever blaster wound those bastards had given him but your body was frozen, you couldn't move. You could only stare at your best friend's beaten up face as a pool of blood grew around his body. You don't know how many minutes had passed when you felt someone pull you away from Poe and against their chest startling you in the process.

"Y/n, it's ok. We got him, he's gonna be okay." hands you could now recognize as Finn's were rubbing your arms in an attempt to ground you and bring you back from your state of panic. This wasn't your first panic attack but you usually had Poe there to help. Stars, Poe. He always knew what to do; how to help you, and now you couldn't even help him. You closed your eyes, trying to avoid the sight of his bloodied body being carried away by the medics and finally, after a couple of minutes, you gained enough strength to get on your feet (with Finn's help), and start your walk to the medbay.

7 hours. The longest, most painful 7 hours of your life and you were finally let inside the room. A sweet doctor had come to get you letting you know that, although stable, Poe was still unconscious but she hoped hearing your voice could help him. After a quick nod of reassurance from Finn and a hand squeeze from Rey, who'd met you at the medbay only a few minutes after you'd gotten there yourself, you stepped inside the room.

Poe laid on his hospital bed, face still dirty from the mission he'd barely made it out alive from and a thick bandage on his torso. You closed the door behind you, moving to take a sit next to the pilot. With a sigh you brought your hand up to his hair, brushing the brown curls away from his bloodied face.

"If only you had listened to me just this one time." you mumbled with a sad smile, your hand now moving to hold his. "I'm sorry i couldn't help you. I tried to move but seeing you like that i just- i thought i was going to lose you and i couldn't focus and i-" and then you were choking on your words and there were tears running down your cheeks again and you couldn't believe you were this pathetic because if you couldn't even help your dying best friend then what the hell were you good for. Then you felt a squeeze in your hand.

"Please don't cry." Poe's tired voice filled the room and you couldn't help but do the exact opposite, lifting your teary eyes to meet his own.

"Poe." you were barely able to mutter out before you were engulfing him in a hug. The pilot ignored the pain in his abdomen, focusing instead on how warm your embrace felt and on how happy he was to be back in your arms. His favourite place in the galaxy. "I thought i'd lost you." you confessed just above a whisper, and he hated that he could hear how mortified you were in your voice. He hated that the tears now staining his shirt were a result of his stubbornness and most of all he hated himself for breaking your spirit like this.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he muttered into your hair, trying his best to hold you as tightly as the pain would allow it. "You were worried and i snapped at you and then i left without saying goodbye and you were right about the whole thing. It was an ambush. Maker, y/n, i'm so sorry." he kept apologizing while rubbing your back, trying to bring you as much comfort as he possibly could. But you shook your head no before attempting to reassure him.

"You had no way of knowing. It wasn't your fault Poe just- don't do that again ok? Please don't ever leave without saying goodbye again..."

"I won't. I promise."

Poe had always found amusement in complaining about the resistance beds but now, as his bare back laid in fresh sheets for the first time in weeks, he couldn't help but sigh in content.

"Alright! You're all bandaged up." you exclaimed happily, putting away the gauze you'd been given before laying down next to the pilot. It'd been a few days since the incident and the doctors had released Poe from the medbay as long as he promised he'd change his bandage daily, job you'd gladly taken. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm happy i'm alive." he replied with a smile, staring at the ceiling above, but something about his tone of voice and the slight frown still visible in his features threw you off.

"You know you can tell me anything right?" you asked softly, bringing your hand up to caress his face when he flinched at your touch. "Look at me, Poe. Please." And then his eyes were on yours. You were used to hearing the fear in the pilot's voice, no matter how much he tried to hide it through his comlink you could always sense it but this... you'd never actually seen fear in his eyes like this. He was still terrified. Terrified that he wouldn't come back home one day. That he wouldn't come back to you.

"Hey, you'll always come back home." you assured him, and you sounded so confident in your statement, so faithful that, just for a moment, he allowed himself to believe your words. "You'll always come back home because you're the best pilot in the resistance, Poe Dameron. You'll always come back home because this rebellion needs you. I need you, ok?"

Poe swallowed the lump that'd formed in his throat. "Say that again." he pleaded and Stars you could never say no to him.

"I need you, Poe. I can't do this without you." Your fingers were tracing his skin in an attempt to get him out of his head. To get him to calm down so he would finally get some proper rest. But then he was scooting closer to you, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you." the words left your mouth before you could stop them. You pulled away from the pilot, eyes widened in fear of the rejection you knew was to come but Poe's hands found your face and pulled it towards him closing the space between you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you ignored the tear you felt running down your face as they did so. It felt right. His lips on yours that is. And when you finally had to break the kiss for air he pulled you gently into his arms. "I love you. And i really can't do this without you either."

a/n: i'm so excited to finally post this! i've had this idea for a year now but my first attempt at writing it went so bad i gave up haha i think i've gotten a lot better ever since so hopefully you guys enjoyed! don't forget to leave feedback if you'd like and treat people with kindness <3

taglist: @buckysbeloved @justanotherblonde23 @lbuprofiend @etherealsanakin

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eyayah-oya · 4 years ago

Text

Return to Me

Clone Ship Week | Day 6 | Post-Battle - @cloneshipweek

Cody/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: mentions of Point Rain, canon typical violence, disgustingly cute happy ending

Ao3 link

Geonosis was just as awful as every vod had ever described. It was hot and dusty, of course, but Cody didn’t really care about any of that. It was the number of brothers he’d lost on the way to Point Rain, the hundreds more killed by the bugs and their weaponry, on top of all the droids that seemed to come in never-ending waves.

Cody and the rest of the 212th were going to join General Mundi and the 21st Nova Marine Corps on the other side of the planet while Rex and his men worked with Gree and the 41st under General Unduli. They would be taking on the enormous droid factory the next day, and Cody would not be able to help any of them. He would have his own mission to run.

There were hundreds of vod’e all over the fortified base they’d managed to find and set up camp in. Brothers from all four battalions mingled and shared increasingly exaggerated stories. Cody had spotted Corporals Fives and Echo talking to some boys from the 21st, and he’d seen the medics fussing over the injured vod’e and generals. But there was no sign of Cody’s cyare.

“Lieutenant!” Cody called to 2nd Lieutenant Jesse of the 501st.

Jesse snapped off a sharp salute. “Sir!”

“At ease, Lt. Have you seen Rex around recently?” Cody asked.

Thinking for a moment, Jesse slowly nodded. “I think I saw him over by the remaining gunships, sir. He was talking to General Skywalker about half an hour ago.”

Cody nodded and clapped the trooper on his shoulder. “Thanks. Make sure you take some time to rest, Lt. We’re in for a rough campaign.”

“Of course, sir. You do the same and see if you can get Rex to sleep, too.”

As Cody walked away, he chuckled to himself. Little brothers were getting uppity. At the start of the war, there was no way any trooper, let alone one from a different battalion, would have talked to him so casually. It was a testament to how well the men of the 501st were relaxing around their Jedi and learning how to be something besides soldiers. It was nice.

Cody prayed to whatever gods watched over clones bred for war that Rex hadn’t gone back up to the Resolute already. He needed to see Rex and make sure his cyare was alright. Too many vod’e were walking wounded, and even more were severely injured or dead. As much as he knew it was a real possibility, Cody did not want to ever consider a reality where Rex marched on ahead of him.

“Hey, Commander!” Commander Tano chirped from out of nowhere. She smiled up at him with bright eyes that hadn’t been weighed down by war yet. She still had hope and Cody prayed that she would never lose that. Yet another thing he prayed for to unknown gods.

“Hello, Commander.” Cody dodged a pair of vod’e carrying a crate full of supplies and glanced down at Commander Tano. “Can I help you with something?”

“Jesse said you’re looking for Rex? I know where he is! But we have to hurry before my Master pulls him away again.”

If Commander Tano was willing to help him find Rex, Cody was definitely not going to say no. Especially after the massacre they’d just faced. “Thank you, Commander,” he said, warm affection warming his chest briefly. “I appreciate it.”

Commander Tano waved away his thanks. “It’s no problem. I get it. Master Skywalker practically ran to Master Kenobi’s side as soon as we got here, and I know Jesse went to go find a batchmate of his from the 41st. Sometimes, you just need to make sure everyone’s alive.”

“That is very wise, Commander,” Cody said. He really shouldn’t be surprised, but in his mind, the Commander was just so young. She shouldn’t have insights into how war worked, and why they needed time to recuperate after a bad battle, if only to reassure themselves that their loved ones made it out alive or to mourn the ones that hadn’t.

There were far too many mourning vod’e.

“I have a great teacher,” Commander Tano said with a warm smile. “Rex said you taught him a lot of what he knows and he’s been passing some of that down to me. It’s helped me in some tough situations, so I should be thanking you, Commander.”

“No thanks necessary, Commander,” Cody managed to say without choking or giving away his emotions. Not that it probably mattered since Jedi were attuned to the people around them. Only General Kenobi had ever thanked him for anything, and Cody was convinced that his General would thank Ventress after she stabbed him with her saber. Karking di’kutla jetti.

“Anyway, Rex is over in that tent, hopefully taking a nap. Coric was threatening him earlier with sedation, so he might have followed through on that threat.”

And with that, Commander Tano skipped away, most likely to terrorize some poor shiny who wouldn’t know how to deal with an overly friendly shiny Jedi Commander. Cody privately wished he had a holo of their flailing. It would provide some good laughs in the future.

Cody strode over to the tent Commander Tano had pointed out, and knocked on the frame.

“Come in,” Rex called and something inside of Cody’s chest loosened.

He undid the fastenings and stepped inside, taking his bucket off immediately. Rex was sitting on the cot, a datapad in his hands, likely going over the initial casualty reports for the battle. Most importantly, he was very much alive.

“Rex,” Cody gasped out with a strangled breath.

Rex jerked at his voice and then a second later, Cody had his arms wrapped around his cyare, breathing him in as he held on as tight as he could.

“Cody! You’re okay!” Rex said. He pulled back to give Cody a sharp look. “You are okay, right?”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t end up getting injured. That was purely my General,” Cody said, trying for some dry humor but it fell flat in the face of their combined relief. “What about you? I heard you got thrown off a wall?”

“Karking Fives and Echo,” Rex growled. “General Skywalker and Ahsoka caught me, so I wasn’t hurt. Nothing beyond a few bumps and bruises.”

Cody ran his eyes over Rex’s body, as though that would tell him if Rex was hiding any injuries with the armor in the way. Once he verified that there wasn’t any gaping hole or crack in Rex’s armor, Cody dropped his helmet to the ground and pulled Rex into a bruising kiss. His cyare responded eagerly, clinging desperately to the hard, sharp planes of Cody’s armor. There was no finesse, no sweetness in the kiss. Just pure, heady relief and a desperation to prove that they really survived.

Rex gripped Cody’s hair tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as their armor would allow. He sucked on Cody’s bottom lip and gently nibbled before letting go and pressing his head against Cody’s in a soft keldabe.

“I was so worried when we heard that most of your gunships went down, including General Kenobi’s. You’re usually flying with him.”

“We decided to split our forces. It was a really close call a few times, but we made it. We both made it,” Cody answered. He was shaking from relief at having Rex in his arms, alive and unharmed. Nothing would ever be able to beat that heady feeling of overwhelming gratitude to whatever gods were listening. They’d listened to at least one of his prayers today.

“Stay alive tomorrow,” Cody demanded after a moment of just breathing each other in. “That factory is going to be really dangerous.”

“I know. Gree is a solid vod, though. He’ll have my back and I’ll have his. Plus, we have the Jedi to help keep us safe.”

Cody very carefully didn’t think about the many times General Skywalker had gotten men killed by doing something reckless or stupid. The R2 droid was not important enough to sacrifice his padawan, Rex, and three other men to General Grievous. Out of four, only Rex and Denal had made it back, and Commander Tano had nearly been killed by Grievous when she kept Grievous from killing Rex, all for a droid. Cody was skeptical, but he also had faith in Commander Tano and General Unduli and her padawan. They’d protect the men while Skywalker handled whatever crazy idea he had.

“We will be safe,” Rex said, giving Cody a shake. “While you’re off with the Marines, you should talk to Bacara. They’re out of contact with most of the GAR. Only Neyo and Jet can get through the blockades to deliver supplies and intelligence to Nova.”

A frown carved the worry lines on his face deeper as Cody absorbed that information. “I’ll talk to him. See what we can do,” Cody swore.

Rex nodded. “Good. He’ll keep you alive. Bacara already told me he’s planning on sharing all of my embarrassing ARC training stories to you while you’re on campaign together.”

Cody grinned. “I’ve been trying to pull those out of Neyo, Keeli, Thorn, and Thire for ages now. And Bacara’s the one to spill the beans?”

Rex grumbled and buried his face against the crook of Cody’s neck. “He said I don’t have enough blackmail material on him to keep him from blabbing. He also said I don’t scare him because, and I quote, “I’m as terrifying as a sleepy baby nexu cub buried in a pile of nip”.”

“That—is strangely accurate,” Cody choked out, laughing at Rex’s offended growl. “You’re a little prickly, but everyone knows you’re just a softy. I mean, you’ve been teaching Commander Tano what I taught you?”

His cyare shrugged. “She’s in the middle of a war, and she doesn’t have the training we do. I don’t want to see her die when I could have prevented it. Nor do I want to see my vod’e die because she makes a bad decision. I’m giving her all the tools she’ll need to be successful and survive this war.”

“You’ve adopted her.” Cody couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. Rex had always loved with all his heart, as evidenced by the numerous vod’e who loved him unconditionally. Of course, Commander Tano would have made the list. “If she’s yours, then she’s mine, too,” Cody said. “We’re in this together.”

Rex finally peeked his head back out from where he’d hidden it against the small sliver of skin on Cody’s neck. “Really?”

Cody didn’t hesitate. He nodded and bumped their foreheads together. “I promise.”

For the first time since their first kiss, Cody had the amazing opportunity to see Rex completely and totally flustered. He blushed bright red, sputtering and coughing as he tried to find something to say.

It took a few minutes for Rex to completely compose himself and then it was Cody’s turn to be flustered. “Are you asking me to be your riduur?”

“What?” Cody spluttered.

For a second, Rex faltered. But then he squared his jaw and firmed his spine as if he was facing the worst of odds in a battle. “We are one when together. We already do that, and have done that since we were cadets. We are one when apart. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything that could separate us, even when we’re fighting on opposite ends of the galaxy. We share all. We tell each other everything. You said it yourself. What’s mine is yours, too. We will raise warriors. We are raising Ahsoka together, since we share all. Not to mention all of our men that we’ve both trained since this war started. If that doesn’t count, I don’t know what would.

“So, are you asking me to be your riduur?”

As Rex laid out each point, Cody found himself agreeing. He and Rex were already married, they just hadn’t said the vows to each other yet. And honestly, there wasn’t a better time than now. Cody would rather be married to the love of his life for a few hours, then never have married him and watched him die in battle.

“Yes, Rex of Torrent. I am asking you to be my riduur,” Cody said, determination in every cell of his body.

Rex lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Cody, bringing their foreheads together. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Rex swore fervently, his whole heart bared for Cody to see.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Cody echoed the vow, offering Rex his heart with every breath.

They shared the same space for a moment, pressing into the keldabe more firmly before their lips brushed together. Like a firework had been set off in his bones, Cody tugged Rex into a passionate, over-whelming kiss that stole their breath away. He could feel his heart swelling with the amount of love he felt for Rex, bursting out from behind the dam he kept on his emotions most days. It rolled over him until the only thing he could think of was that Rex was alive, in his arms, and that they were now married. What more could Cody care for in that moment?

Eventually, air became a necessity, and they broke away from each other to breathe. Rex gave a soft chuckle. “You do realize that means you’re going to have to adopt Ahsoka, too, right?”

“YES! I get two dads AND Cody has to call me by my name now!”

“Shh, they can hear you, Soka.”

“Oops! Everyone scatter!”

Cody laughed. His heart couldn’t contain the joy he felt, and he would carry that joy throughout the war as a hopeful flame for when they could all have peace again. But in that moment, he had all night with his riduur, and Cody planned on making the most of it.

#clone/clone #cloneshipping #codex #cody/rex #captain rex #commander cody #ahsoka tano #getting together #soft and fluffy #mild hurt/comfort #cloneshipweek2021 #day 6 | post-battle

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amchara · 3 years ago

Text

Road to Hell (Wait for Me, I’m Coming) Part Two - Kit / Ty Hadestown AU

(Part One)

Ty rubbed his face tiredly, as he stared at another chicken-scratch parchment in the Unseelie Court’s library. He looked up and saw that Dru was fast asleep, gently snoring into her crossed arms, while Anush was dazedly flipping through pages of a huge leatherbound book. Mark had left a while ago, muttering something about getting some food for them but he hadn’t returned yet.

Ty looked down at his research, the collected notes he had written over the last day and a half and suddenly it seemed pitiful, compared to the task ahead. Ty could feel the panic rising, his chest tight and he concentrated on the feel of the rough paper underneath his fingertips. He had to get Kit out of Hell and he was taking notes, like he was back in the Scholomance and this was an assignment, instead of… instead of the most important fucking thing in the world.

He hadn’t told Kit how he felt yet. They had only just re-entered each other’s lives over the past two months and were still doing a wary dance as they relearned each other’s steps after three years apart.

There had been a hesitant scene in the L.A. Institute’s atrium when Kit had strolled in, almost as if he had never left, all sunshine gold hair, eyes the colour of a clear autumn sky, and a husky voice with just the slightest hint of an English accent.

There had been the angry, sparse time when Helen had sent them on a patrol together and they had strode along in miserable silence until Kit had finally stopped him and asked where Livvy was- and Ty had snapped back at him, the wound still raw, that he was trying to make amends for everything he’d done but he’d had to do it alone and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. The fragile moment when Kit’s face had crumpled briefly and he told Ty he was sorry he had left and that Ty had had to do it alone. And the appearance of the Raum demons a minute later, interrupting them- but then the glimpse of how it could be, as Kit had stopped him after the attack and insisted on drawing the iratze on Ty’s forearm, his face a study of concentration as they sat in the car before driving back to the Institute.

There had been fleeting, glorious moments in the training room when they had sparred, the pretence of combat a freeing sensation for Ty, as he felt able to finally touch Kit and the look Kit had given him, his breath an uneven whisper on Ty’s collarbone after he pinned him to the floor, almost helping Ty make his decision. But it hadn’t been enough - and the agonising choice of whether to knock - and still being a coward and walking away, almost too quickly, from Kit’s door.

And then that moment in the clearing. When Kit had done the stupid, honourable Herondale thing and sacrificed himself for the rest of them. Ty didn’t think he’d do the same if the situation was reversed - but then again, he was a Blackthorn.

From far away, he could hear a tearing, ripping sound and he came back to himself, noting the confetti of yellow parchment floating down to the ground around him, as he paced back and forth, paper strewn around him and his hands moving almost mechanically as he shredded his carefully taken notes.

Anush looked over at him, finally noticing Ty’s pacing and his eyes widened. And just then, Mark re-appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray. He let out a curse as he saw Ty, almost knocking over the tray in his hurry to put it down. He crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Ty, gentle as he placed his hands over his brother’s as he clasped them a firm grip. This time, Ty let him in and he drew in a few deep, shuddering breaths as he let the small remains of paper drop.

“It’s all right,” he told Mark. “I have them all memorised.”

Mark nodded. “It’s wise to not leave the notes to Hade unguarded,” he said. He paused. “Although perhaps a bit unkind to the brownie cleaners - but no matter, I’ll arrange to speak to them.”

There was a stretch of silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Ty said. “I can’t wait too long- we don’t know if time moves differently in Hades compared to the rest of Faerie and I can’t risk it.”

Mark’s eyes searched Ty’s face - not seeking eye contact but a different kind of reassurance. He seemed to find it, and he dropped Ty’s hands. “Then we’ll prepare to go together - you’re not going alone,” he said. A chorus joined in - a rousing if slightly terrified response from Anush, and a sleepy affirmation from Dru, who appeared to have just woken up.

Ty felt a brief moment of terror that he was bringing more people into what his research told him was likely a suicide mission… but the ice cold shiver of memories and Livvy’s pleading, drained face swam into view and he swallowed his protests. He didn’t think he could go through it alone again.

—

The ivory keys of the grand piano were always immaculately polished and Kit wondered whose job it was to clean them. His job was to play the music and he thanked - well, it wasn’t God and it wasn’t the Angel Raziel - but he thanked his lucky stars that he had picked up some basic songs from Jace the previous summer when he had visited the New York Institute, and that Jem had considered learning to read music by sight an essential part of a well-rounded education, alongside Kit’s Shadowhunter training and mundane school.

In contrast to the bright electric fluorescence that lit the warren of overly warm machinery-filled rooms that Kit had started to refer to as Hadestown, Persephone’s conservatory was different, with its faded white, latticed walls and high glass ceilings letting in the smallest fraction of outside light.

It reminded him of where he had lived with Jem, Tessa and Mina - in… C- In Cir- Kit’s mind stuttered. He didn’t know how long he had been here - the days were starting to blur together and he was worried he was starting to forget more than just the little things.

He stared down at the piano keys as the large ornamental clock on the wall struck eleven. Like clockwork precision, Persephone waltzed in, her movements sultry but sulky as always. She threw some new music books at Kit and he caught them awkwardly, balancing them on his lap.

“These ones - I don’t care which one you play first today,” she said, sitting down on the long fainting couch across from him, her black hair spilling over the white satin fabric as she rested her head. Kit tried not to stare at her deep decolletage, which was prominently framed by the tight red dress she was wearing. She noticed as he turned away and her gaze was hungry as she looked at him.

Kit looked down as he chose a music book and blindly opened it to a first page he saw. He started playing, a crooning jazz number singing out underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was because he was in Faerie or the spell he could feel he was under but he was a much better musician here than in the mundane world. The tight, lost look on Persephone’s face began to relax as the melody echoed in the conservatory.

As he finished the first song and began another, his movements almost automatic, Kit allowed himself to think again, of escape - of returning to the land of the living - to his family, to the Shadowhunter institutions he was slowly becoming accustomed to again, to… Ty. To what might be between them, although he had almost strangled that hope, locked it away tight and deep inside his heart. What they had resurrected - if that word could be used - given previous circumstances was almost a miracle, Kit thought, hard fought for and one that he hadn’t been about to throw away on foolish too-soon declarations of love. Even so, when he had seen that faerie arrow aimed straight at Ty’s heart, he hadn’t hesitated. He might not be ever able to tell Ty how he felt but at least he had been able to show it in his actions, he mused.

And he wasn’t about to give up on leaving this hellhole, although each unrelenting day in this dull, dark and depressing place of dust and hollow-eyed workers pulled at that hope. But he clung to his memories - to the now-dimly lit memories of the outside world. Of his love for a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with his sharp intellect and fierce love of his family, who saw the world in a different light than most, and was - had been willing - and maybe, might be willing again to share it with Kit.

The last note rang out as he finished the song and he drew his hands back, muscles aching. He had been playing for nearly an hour. In the sudden silence, Persephone let out a ragged sigh.

“Who is the love that you play for, boy?” she said, her voice ancient and rough. She rose from the couch and crossed the floor, her dress swishing across the smooth marble. “I have heard many love songs in my years… but yours is one that I haven’t heard in an eon. Tell me their name.” Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But Kit remained silent. He knew instinctively if he said Ty’s name, he would lose it. He shook his head, his lips pressed together.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, and she reached out, as if to stroke his brow. Kit evaded her and stood up. He had been coming to play for her for several times now, and he had started to learn her ways. He needed a distraction. “I saw that crack in the wall- is that new, Persephone?” Kit lowered his voice as he gestured across the room. “I know you’re a captive as much as I am. Let me help you- we can escape together and then I will tell you.”

Persephone’s laugh was as dry as a winter’s wind as she sized him up. “Oh, that’s adorable, my sweet-” she said. “But I made my choice long ago and it’s--” her eyes suddenly moved past him. “It’s the love I deserve,” her voice suddenly was filled with honey and springtime.

Kit knew that Hades had arrived, and he tried to quell the fear rising in him as he turned around.

The man - fae - god or whatever he was - was standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

“Leave him,” he said in his deep voice. “I desire your company.”

Persephone swept past Kit without another word and draped herself across Hades. “Of course my darling- I am here. What shall we do?”

Hades took a moment to whisper into her ear and Persephone looked uncomfortable but let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Of course.”

Hades smiled, with a devilish twist and he pulled her away, starting down the hall.

But then he stopped and looked back at Kit. “Your shift here has ended - get back on the assembly line.”

Kit looked down at his rough worker’s uniform, smeared with rust and dust and he forced himself to nod evenly - he knew from past experience that it was unwise to argue with Hades.

Hades’ firelit eyes swept over him. “And once that is over - come see me in my office.”

And at that, Kit knew that he was in trouble. Hades had summoned him twice since his arrival to his office, after the initial contract signing. Each time afterwards Kit had found himself weak and gasping on the floor outside, his mind blank and unsure of what had passed behind the walls of the office. Nothing good, he thought grimly - and that was likely the cause of his increasingly fuzzy memory recall.

He needed to escape and soon. He nodded again and Hades left with Persephone. Kit started to make his way to the factory floor. On his way out of the conservatory, he bumped into a small, bird-framed girl with a luminous beauty and whose too-large eyes must have been lively once but were now faded and glazed over with the thousand yard stare that all Hades’ workers had. That he might soon have. “What’s your name?” Kit asked the girl, trying not to sound desperate.

She looked up at him. “I- Eu- I…” she looked puzzled and sad. “I don’t know.” she said.

Kit felt a stab of despair.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added / removed!)

@jesse-is-spiraling @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @thechangeling

#kitty fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #my fanfic

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laurensprentiss · 4 years ago

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 8:

Warnings: None, really. Emily and Hotch get to know each other, Emily picks up vibes.

------

“Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us.” - David Richo

------

You stare absently out of the window, clutching the lapels of Hotch’s blazer that he’d draped over you. Every so often, you feel the dread in your bones again, a brief moment when your stomach drops as you remember back to earlier. You inhale long and deep when you do, trying to ground yourself and the action doesn’t slip Hotch’s attention who sits next to you, gripping the steering wheel so hard, the leather might wear.

He glances at you. “It’s okay. Sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Your eyes feel heavy, drooping of their own accord. You try your best to fight your exhaustion, but the exertion only serves to heighten the throbbing in your temple. You glance over at Hotch as you set your head against the cool glass of the window, the buzz of the car engine and the heater lulling you to sleep.

The sun is almost set when you wake up, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to adjust to the dark. You’re parked outside of your apartment building and Hotch scribbles something on a notepad next to you, using the streetlight to illuminate the page.

He clears his throat when he spots you stirring from the corner of his eye. He sits up straight. “Hey.” He whispers with a smile.

“Hey.” You inhale deeply and adjust in your seat to face him. “How long have I been out?” You ask.

He checks his watch and raises his eyebrows in surprise. “About an hour.”

He’d lost track of time himself and completely screwed protocol. He’ll pay for that later, he thinks.

“An hour?” You exclaim.

“Yeah.” He winces. “I’m sorry. You looked really peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

Truth is, he had spent the better part of that hour watching you as you’d slept when he’d parked up, the setting sun casting a golden hue on your skin. He’d debated carrying you up to your apartment but didn’t want to chance waking you, even turned his phone off. Another thing he’ll pay for later, he thinks.

Headlights appear behind you, and a car pulls up to the sidewalk at your rear. Hotch peers at the rear view mirror and squints, the lights almost blinding in the dark. You turn around in your seat to get a better view.

“Emily.” You reassure him when you see the familiar figure in the driving seat. He shoots you a puzzled look, his eyebrows furrowed. “My friend. From the restaurant.” You remind him.

You start to undo your belt and Hotch climbs out of the car, making his way around the front of his car to open your door, offering you a hand as you step out.

Emily walks towards where you stand next to Hotch, the two of them offering each other polite smiles. Hotch extends his hand to take Emily’s bags from her, as she immediately gathers you into another hug. He holds the doors open for you and Emily, waits until you guys are inside to trail behind you, giving a quick nod to the two undercovers pulling up on either side of the street.

“Wait. Why were you guys still outside, you should’ve beat me here, right?” Emily asks.

———

You reach your hands for the main light switch when you step into your apartment, Hotch setting Emily’s bags down on your sofa, turning a table side lamp on and setting his keys down as he does. Emily tracks his movements carefully.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the hallway, your makeup smudged, eyes still puffy from the tears and sleep.

You groan.“I need a shower.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Emily asks, concern etched in her face.

“Yeah, I think I can handle a shower.” You chuckle dryly.

You tell Emily and Hotch to make themselves at home while you freshen yourself up. You shrug off Hotch’s blazer, gathering the sleeves and the lapels and folding it in half, placing it back in Hotch’s arms. His face betrays his cool and collected demeanour, his eyebrows pinched and his eyes wide as he watches you move closer to him. He looks nervous, as though you’re about to break.

He wants to reach out and hold you close, brush the stray hairs off your face, wipe your eyes. He settles instead for a light brush of your fingers against his when you hand him his blazer - a ghost of a touch, really. That doesn’t stop you both from shivering a little at the contact.

Once you step into the shower, Hotch and Emily take the chance to get to know one another better. He extends his hand towards her, introducing himself.

“Agent Hotchner. Aaron.”

She takes his hand. “Emily. Prentiss.”

Hotch circles around your couch and to the kitchen, opens the fridge and helps himself to a bottle of water, Emily’s eyes stay trained on him as he does. He offers her a bottle, she declines with a quick shake of her head.

He goes on, “So, how do you guys know each other?”

“We’re friends through our parents.” She explains. “I’ve known her since she was a kid.” She stalks over the kitchen island, propping her elbows on the counter, her gaze pointedly falling to his water bottle. “I think the more important question, though, is how do you two know each other? You certainly seem comfortable.”

Hotch follows her gaze to the water bottle in his hand, stutters guiltily, but can’t really place why he feels that way.

It throws him off. “I was- I’m. The ambassador, he-” Emily raises her eyebrows challengingly. “I’m a part of the security detail assigned to her after the events of last year.”

“I thought that was the other guy.” She asks. “The older guy with the beard?”

He takes a sip of his water and nods. “That’s my partner. Agent McCall. Ben.” She nods approvingly and he relaxes a little.

“So, where are you with catching this guy?”

He updates Emily and provides her with the profile they’d worked on, a pinch of guilt when he remembers how he’d avoided you for those two weeks. He shakes it off and suggests Emily take a cognitive interview, ushering her to to take a seat, remembering that she would probably be the best witness of this afternoon.

“I’m going to need to ask you to close your eyes.” She shoots him a doubtful look. “Humour me.”

She clears her throat, closing her eyes.

He continues, “Okay. Think back to when you’re at the restaurant, what it smells like, what it sounds like, what the weather is like.”

She nods and inhales slightly, as if breathing in the smells back at the restaurant. She talks him through the warm weather, the sun shining. How she got there first and how she saw undercovers pull up before you and McCall arrived.

“How did you know they were UC’s?”

Her eyes blink open and she shrugs. “Occupational hazard, I guess.” Hotch frowns. “Well, my mother’s occupation - but, same difference.” She laughs.

“Okay, well, what about afterwards? When you guys sat down?”

“We were just talking, I don’t know?”

“Okay, focus. Go back to when you greeted her. You guys sat down? What did you guys talk about? What made her leave?”

She tells Hotch that you just caught each other up after everything you had missed since you briefly lost touch, that you'd told her about your stalker.

“Why did you guys lose touch?”

“My mother was in Rome for a year.” She shrugs. “We tried to keep up but she had school and personal stuff. We talked about her dad’s health scare, her ex-”

“-Her ex?”

Emily blinks at Hotch, gauging his expression carefully. He’s questioning her under the guise of work, but he’s not that good at concealing his microexpressions - yet. She doesn’t miss the way his face falls for a split-second, or the way he tried to nonchalantly question her about Jordan by cutting her off, the bob in his Adam’s apple as he’d swallowed.

“Yeah..” She trails off. She thinks carefully about how to proceed, still watching him carefully. “They broke up last year and I guess they reconnected recently.” She says the last part flatly, with little intonation, wants to see his real expression.

She has a sneaking suspicion that there’s something that extends further than just work for him - maybe even more than friendship, especially after she had seen the way he had held you earlier, the way he touches you like fragile glass, the way he swallows when you come too close. But she wants to be sure.

“What’s his name?” He asks, his left eyebrow arched.

His nostrils flare slightly and he sniffs nonchalantly as he pulls out a notepad and pen from his blazer pocket that’s thrown on the chair. He writes down Jordan’s name and tries his best to keep a hold on himself. He can finally put a name to the face he saw you with after you visited Quantico that day.

Reconnected?

What does that mean? Reconnected?

He takes his details from Emily and asks her some questions about him - he justifies it to himself as procedure. He’s going to have to question this person after all, why not learn a bit more about him to gain the upper hand? Emily just tells him you guys dated on and off until you broke it off for good.

“And why’s that?”

“Why’s what?” Emily asks.

“Why did she break it off?”

“I don’t know. She never really said. He’s just weird. Sleazy.”

All she really knows about him is that his father’s a congressman and works on the Hill - Ambassador Prentiss has far reaching arms, after all. She remembers seeing him at dinner parties and society balls growing up, but that’s around it.

“And what happened next?”

“After that, her mood changed? She was laughing one minute and quiet the next - I could tell something was bothering her.” She picks at her fingernails. “And then she left. After that, I don’t know what happened.” Her voice is almost a whisper, she thinks maybe if she had done something, if she had said something, reached out sooner - maybe none of this would have happened.

“I know what you’re thinking, alright. Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah.”

She hears the words, but it doesn’t alleviate the guilt she’s feeling right now. Her stomach drops suddenly as she thinks back to something she remembered feeling while at the restaurant, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

Hotch sits up straight. “You just remembered something, what is it?”

Emily’s eyes widen. “I felt like someone was watching me.” She says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought maybe I was being paranoid about the UC’s or your partner.” She trails off again. “But right before you got there, I was just browsing the menu. There was a guy. He bumped into my table but I couldn’t see his face, it was - it was sunny and he- he was wearing a hat.” She rushes out, gesticulating with her hands. “He squeezed my shoulder when he apologised as he walked past, I remember thinking it was gross, because he lingered.” She shudders.

“Okay. You’re doing really good. What else?”

“Well, when you guys left out the back, I walked back to the front to get my car. I had the feeling somebody was watching me again.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you feel somebody was watching you? Think.”

“I heard a voice. His voice.” She panicks. “Oh my God, he was talking to a cop. I remember hearing him telling the cop that the screaming was so loud. He said it sounded like someone was dying. But he wasn't looking at the cop, he was looking right at me.” She feels nauseous.

He nods. “Excuse me.” He ducks out of your apartment to make a ten minute phone call to Barnes, rattles off the information he got in his cognitive with Emily. “We need to question the staff and any cops that responded today. CCTV, too.”

He hangs up and sees three missed calls from Haley, groans when he realises the time. She’s probably asleep but he figures he can still call her, at least she’ll know he checked in. He paces the length of the hallway, the phone to his ear and he waits for the inevitable command to leave a message. He’s about to hang up when the receiver clicks, Haley’s voice coming from the other end.

“Hello?” She pants.

“Hey, it’s me.” He frowns. “Are you alright, why are you out of breath?”

“I had to run to grab the phone.” She chuckles. “What’s up?”

He’s surprised he isn’t getting the third degree, that she isn’t more mad. He figures they’re still good after their make-up high, both of them vowing to do better.

Still.

He clears his throat. “Nothing. I just wanted to check in.” He can hear rustling in the background, figures she’s probably cleaning or about to tuck in for the night. “I don’t think I’ll be home until around 1 or 2am, we had a situation.”

“Okay. That’s alright, honey. You take your time, I’ll see you when you get home, okay?” She sounds chipper.

“Yeah.” He’s caught a little off guard at how laid back she’s being but he figures he doesn’t want to jinx it and count his blessings too quickly, bids her a quick goodbye.

He’s about to make the walk back down the hallway into your apartment, when the elevator dings behind him, McCall stepping out.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you for another few hours.” Hotch says patting him on the shoulders.

“Barnes told me what happened, I figured I’d come and relieve you, it’s 11 o'clock man.”

Hotch runs a hand over his face and groans. Truth is, he’s shattered and wants nothing more than to just find the closest bed and sleep undisturbed for at least 12 hours.

Inside, you’re rattling around in the kitchen, pulling pots and pans from the cupboards, setting some pasta on the hob when Hotch and McCall walk in.

“Hey! You’re out of the shower.” Hotch scratches the back of his head sheepishly when he hears his tone, and realises everybody else just heard it too.

Emily watches him with a smile and McCall just ducks his head and clears his throat, reaches to shake Emily’s hand and introduce himself.

“Yeah. I- I feel a lot better. Thanks.” You smile. “I realised none of us ate all day though, and cooking soothes me, so pasta it is.”

Emily reaches up to your cupboards for some more glasses, two already in her hand. “You guys staying?”

Please stay.

“Ben will be, but I gotta get home, sorry. Maybe next time?” Hotch offers.

Oh.

You can’t ignore the disappointment in your chest when Hotch turns to walk out, but you swallow it down and say goodbye, anyway. You weren’t quite ready to let go of him today, he was a comforting presence and you’re not really on even footing yet - for some reason he helps to centre you. The disappointment you hold in your shoulders isn’t missed by Emily who offers you a knowing smile and motions over to the sofa where Hotch’s blazer lies.

Your eyes widen as you set down the knife and circle around the island to grab the item, shooting her an awkward smile as you do. You click the door shut behind you.

“Hold the elevator!”

Hotch’s hand comes up between the two doors as they’re about to close, his eyebrows furrowed when he sees you jogging towards him. He steps out as you close the distance between you.

“You forgot your blazer!” You sigh.

“Ah.” He apologises quickly and goes to take it from you, but you open up the lapels and sleeves motioning for him to put in on instead.

“It’s cold outside.” You whisper.

You hold it out to him and he tucks his arms into the sleeves, stepping into it as you help him put it on as he bends slightly so he can meet your height. You absentmindedly brush some dust off the shoulders as he turns back to you, a small smile on his face. You’re so close to him and he can’t find it in himself to look away, his gaze flitting to your lips. He can smell your soap, feel the heat radiating off your body.

You clear your throat and step back a little.

You share a look, a dangerous, vulnerable gaze that feels like it’s stripping you both bare. It’s there in front of you, something that hangs unspoken in the air, glaringly obvious, yet you both neglect to face it.

“Well. I should-” he points to the elevator behind him. You nod when he presses the button for the elevator to return, the floor numbers appearing above the doors.

You chew on your lip, frozen in place, unable to leave but unable to do what you actually want to do. It’s only when he steps on to the elevator and is staring at his shoes that you call out to him again.

“Aaron?”

“Yes?” He says almost immediately, head whipping up.

You try to formulate the words but your head still feels jumbled, too busy and you’re beginning to have an alarming realisation that you desperately want to push to the back of your mind. You don’t know how to say what you’re feeling, panic rising - you only know that your emotions are bubbling over and you want to say something, do something to show your gratitude.

“I just.” You take a step forward. “Thank you.” You shake your head, not knowing what else to say.

Almost on instinct, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping on your toes to reach him, burying your face in his neck. The air leaves his chest as you embrace him, the unexpected, but long awaited contact taking him by surprise. His warm hard body is solid against you, as he ducks down, his arms wrapping around your waist, one hand coming around to your ribs.

He squeezes gently, inhaling the scent of your hair, the two of you just sharing a brief moment, quiet in the chaos. Your arms flex around his shoulders, holding him close - close enough to make him feel what you want to say. His own hands flex and tighten, warm over your sweater, almost radiating heat as he brings you closer to himself.

He swallows thickly, his heart pounding. Absurd thoughts penetrate his mind, a realisation dawning on him that he tries like hell to push deep back down into the abyss. It doesn’t help that you’re right in front of him, warm and comforting, intoxicating.

But he can’t.

It’ll pass he thinks.

You stay in the moment for what seems like a long while, a ding breaking you out of your moment. You sniff slightly and loosen your grip on him, his arms unwinding from around your waist, the both of you bereft at the loss of contact. Your cheeks brush as you let yourself down, his coarse beard hair scratching pleasantly against your face. Your hands trail down his chest slowly over his dress shirt, the tip of his nose against your forehead. Your eyes flutter from the gentle contact as you glance up at him, his eyes hooded, one hand still on your rib. His thumb rubs gently, back and forth over your sweater, his gentle eyes staring back at you, taking you in.

You swallow thickly and force yourself away from his magnetic pull, stepping back gently, before you do something you regret. Your arms cross over your chest in an automatic act of self-preservation and unconscious comfort. He steps back into the elevator, his cheeks a little flushed, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips - but there’s something in his eyes. Something intense, that pulls at you and you daren’t let yourself hope and be carried away by it again.

You feel it. But he couldn’t possibly, you think.

He feels it. But you couldn’t possibly, he thinks.

“Goodnight.” He whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Night, Aaron.”

———

The lights are off when he gets home around 25 minutes later, only their bedroom window illuminated. He thinks maybe Haley fell asleep waiting up for him, he wasn’t supposed to be home for another few hours yet anyway. He quietly closes the door when he gets in, toes his shoes off and tip toes across the floor to get himself a drink of water before he heads up. He takes special care to remain light on his feet as he walks, he knows the worn old floorboards in their cheap rental home creak horribly, even at the lightest pressure.

Almost on cue, the floorboards creak upstairs directly above him but travel towards the end of the upstairs hallway. His ears perk up as he follows the sound, travelling back from the end of the upstairs hallway after a few moments, and down the stairs as Hotch walks out of the kitchen curiously, glass still in hand. He walks out to Haley running down the stairs, her face flushed.

“Hi! Honey! You’re home.” She pants a little.

She throws herself into his arms and he finds himself a little rigid and unable to fully return her embrace. His face contorts and he finds his mind wandering to the way you’d slotted against his body perfectly, the smell of your hair, your cheek against his.

He feels a tug at his chest.

She releases him and plants a kiss on his lips, but his eyes stay open, eyebrow quirked slightly in confusion.

“I thought you’d be asleep. I didn’t hear anything when I got in.” He tells her.

She grabs his hand and pulls him upstairs. “Well I was getting ready for bed when I heard you pull up.” She chirps.

It’s odd, he thinks, her tone of voice. Especially at this time of night, and he can’t ever remember her being so happy to see him, especially after a full day of work. She’s usually the opposite, full of biting sarcasm and jabs. She seems on edge now, teetering on the edge of hyper. The bedding is rumpled and he frowns at that, has never known Haley to unmake their bed unless it was right before bed. He can’t find it in himself to think too deeply into it, though, the sight of a bed inviting nonetheless.

He loosens his tie a little more, and finally lets out a yawn, turning to go to the main bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Where are you going?” Haley asks, eyebrows raised, a tight smile on her face.

He points out to the hallway. “To the bathroom?”

She shoots up. “No, no! The faucet. It’s uh, well I don’t know what it is, but it’s not working. Gotta call the plumber, I guess.” She rattles off in a single breath.

He concedes. “Fine.” He’s exhausted and all he wants is to sleep.

He ducks into their small not-even-a-half-bath ‘ensuite’, that consists only of a toilet and a sink. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and realises he looks even worse than he feels, he didn’t realise that was possible. He neglects brushing his teeth tonight, settles for swilling some mouthwash and changing into his shorts and calls it.

Haley isn’t there when he emerges from the bathroom, a frown on his forehead soon appears at her almost skittish behaviour. He can’t summon the energy to care too deeply, though, slipping under the covers, sleep calling out to him. She reappears moments later, telling him that they had forgotten to turn the downstairs lights off before they came up.

“Hm.” He replies, already half asleep.

He only hums as she slips in next to him, their backs to one another. He dips into an almost instant deep sleep, rest coming easy to him once the thoughts of your warm embrace surrounds him, granting him solace.

Haley on the other hand, lies perfectly rigid, her hands under her head on the pillow, her mind swimming and heart pounding as she listens for the receding footsteps in their front yard.

———

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years ago

Text

Companions React: Sole Has Chronic Insomnia and Falls Asleep Abruptly

Cait:

When Sole dropped in the middle of a fight, she swore they’d been shot. She felt her heart sink as she raced across the field to get to them, cursing the universe for letting them get hurt yet again. When she couldn’t find any wound on them, she was even more alarmed; internal wounds were something close to an instant death sentence in the Commonwealth.

After dragging them somewhere somewhat safe and ending the fight, Cait rushed them back to Sanctuary, thanking the stars that they were somewhat close by. She’d been too wrapped up in preparing for their battle that she hadn’t noticed any signs that might’ve pointed to what was going on with them. Guilt ate at her until the medic returned to the front of the clinic to speak with her. “It appears it was simply exhaustion that caused them to pass out. We’ll keep them here and make sure to monitor them, but they’ll be fine.”

Cait breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling for a moment. She knew they were an insomniac, but not to this extent. Was there something she could’ve done? She recalled all the times they brushed off her encouragement to sleep, knowing that it wouldn’t help and they’d just end up laying in bed all night wishing they weren’t conscious. Cait rubbed her fingertips across her forehead and pressed her lips together. Feeling helpless was her least favorite experience, and yet, there she was, chronically unable to help.

Curie:

Curie was more than concerned the first time Sole fell asleep sitting up in the middle of talking to Preston. She politely told Preston she’d take care of them and that they must’ve gotten a poor night’s sleep, indirectly asking him to leave. Of course she’d noticed they were struggling to get sleep recently, if the bags and dark circles under their eyes were to be taken as indicators, as well as their sluggish movements and lack of patience as of late.

She eased them out of their chair and onto the floor, not wanting them to wake up with a sore neck from being propped up at the meeting table. They kept a spare blanket on their couch in case any settler needed to stay with them, so she grabbed it and spread it over them. Their back may be a little sore in the morning, but it was the best she could do for them.

With a sigh, she watched them, finally resting yet seeming so worn in appearance anyway. There had to be a way to solve their insomnia, to finally get them a good night’s sleep that wasn’t due to dropping from running on empty for so long. She knew that even on days like these they didn’t wake up refreshed; it was like emerging from a coma, weighed down by their body trying to take advantage of any moments of rest they got. Her heart ached for them.

Danse:

Danse was no stranger to late nights and the haunting nightmares that so frequently taunted members of the Brotherhood. He watched Sole’s behavior turn into more and more evidence that they weren’t sleeping, despite the obvious signs that they so desperately needed it. They were slow to act, their reaction time lengthening, and lost their temper with more than one member of the Brotherhood. Part of him grew frustrated, but the other half of him knew they wouldn’t be experiencing these things if they had a choice.

He requested their presence at an important meeting, valuing their intelligence and insight and also hoping to have a conversation with them afterwards since they seemed too busy to talk as of late. When they entered the room they looked ready to drop at any moment and Danse felt the concern in him spike alarmingly. If they continued like this any longer they would be making mistakes they couldn’t afford, possibly including getting themself killed.

Wanting to monitor them closely, he gestured to the seat next to him and waited the couple of moments they took to realize he wanted them to sit next to him. With a flash of a smile they couldn’t bring to reach their eyes, they made their way slowly across the room and dropped into the seat next to him. The way they treated their own body like dead weight they could no longer bear made him suck in a breath. There was no way they were still healthy. Selfishly, he missed the brightness they often brought with them.

It was several minutes after Elder Maxson began talking that he realized they’d completely passed out. Considering they were one of the most reliably professional members of the Brotherhood, he knew the situation was even more serious than he’d realized.

Once Maxson paused for breath, Danse stood, uncomfortable with the attention that was immediately turned to him. “I apologize for the interruption, Elder, however I believe Sole needs to seek medical attention.” Elder Maxson turned to look at Sole, slumped over in their chair looking like the dead warmed over, and nodded his assent. Danse quickly reached down and pulled them carefully out of their seat and into his arms. It was a quiet walk to the infirmary, his boots echoing in the empty halls, Sole’s breathing blowing air across the skin on his neck.

Once they were properly situated in the clinic, the doctor reassured him that they were fine if not a little dehydrated and definitely exhausted, and he was seated in the chair beside their bed, he allowed himself to sink back and think. When had their issues started? Probably long before he met them, but he never had the time to pay attention to what they were going through; it was mission after mission, meeting after meeting, and he did what he could for them, but it wasn’t much at the end of the day.

Danse knew he didn’t have much time to keep them company; he was required to hurry back to the meeting as soon as possible. However, he did take a moment to make sure the blankets were tucked around him and check in with the doctors once again before he stood. Once he had free time he’d have to have a discussion with Sole about ways they could help their insomnia.

Deacon:

Deacon was used to Sole’s unfortunate habit of passing out in the middle of important conversations. When they began swaying on their feet in the middle of the Railroad’s discussion of infiltrating the Institute, he simply wrapped his arm around their waist and pulled their arm over his shoulder as they began to drop. He kept them on their feet without pulling his attention away from the conversation and eventually managed to move them in a way that he could pull them onto his back.

Desdemona paused for a moment to give a look of concern their way, also somewhat aware of Sole’s terrible sleeping habits, but continued to take feedback on the plans. Deacon shifted their weight carefully, supporting the backs of their thighs, their head resting on his shoulder. A few members of the Railroad gave them confused looks but he waved them off with a simple shrug.

As soon as the meeting broke Deacon carried Sole to their sleeping back and eased them down as carefully as he could. It seemed fruitless, though, to be so cautious considering they were out like a light. He knew they’d be out for a while and threw a blanket over them before returning to what he was doing before the meeting. They’d catch up to him when they were awake and ready, and he’d continue to look for a solution to their insomnia.

Gage:

The first time Sole passed out during a conversation with the gang leaders, he thought they were fucking with him. The second time, when they were staking out part of the Nuka Cola factory and simply dropped like a sack of potatoes, he began to get concerned. The third and fourth time after that he was considering running an intervention until they explained there was simply nothing either of them could do other than try to let them sleep when they could.

Gage quickly grew used to catching them before they could hit the ground and easing them somewhere suitable before they got hurt some other way. The raider leaders knew not to question anything and simply move on with the negotiations as Gage either supported Sole’s weight or carefully held them upright in a seat. The one time they questioned Sole’s capabilities as a leader, Sole was a force to be reckoned with when they found out later on.

Hancock:

Hancock was immediately concerned when Sole seemed to faint in the middle of discussing their travels to Pickman’s Gallery. He’d never seen someone so exhausted their body simply shut down and when they awoke he asked a few questions, attempting to figure out if there was something he could do for them. He suggested chems, alcohol, everything Sole had already thought of and tried to no avail. Worried about a good friend and, quite frankly, one of his best assets, Hancock recruited a few people to begin researching creating a chem to help them with their chronic insomnia.

MacCready:

Mac had been on the receiving end of more than his fair share of insomniatic late nights and knew quite easily the signs that Sole was going through the same thing. This led him to stick close by them as their movements grew more and more sluggish, their feet dragging against the dusty rooftop they were perched on in an attempt to get a birds-eye view of the Gunners. At first, the plan had been to infiltrate right away, wanting to waste no time in getting the information they needed.

However, as they struggled to keep up the slow pace Mac had set, he changed his mind quickly. “Hey, Sole. Why don’t you go ahead and sit down and I’ll set up everything.”

Sole eyed him suspiciously for a moment, knowing it was rare for him to so generously offer to take first watch, but was too tired to do anything but shrug it off. Mac began unpacking his trusty sniper and getting them settled on the rooftop as Sole sat down nearby, kicking their feet up on a barrel that had been long rusted into place. A few minutes ticked by as Mac worked silently. When everything was good to go, he pulled away from looking through the scope and turned to check on his companion.

With a light chuckle he realized they were fast asleep, jaw hanging slightly open as they slept. As long as they got some sleep, he was willing to stay on the rooftop in the name of recon for as long as they needed.

Maxson:

Elder Maxson’s attention was yanked across the room when Danse stood up and requested to take Sole to the infirmary. Concern crept across his features as he examined their worn form. He’d noticed they were struggling to sleep lately if their dark circles and slumped figure were anything to go by, and had been considering calling them in for a discussion about it. Apparently he had acted too slow.

With a quick word he postponed the meeting and gestured to attending medical staff to check on them. He stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back tensely as he watched them examine Sole, curious Brotherhood members shuffling out of the meeting room quickly. “They simply passed out from exhaustion, Elder Maxson.” The attending doctor announced.

He sighed quietly to himself and nodded. That’s exactly what he’d figured. “I’ll take things from here.” Maxson’s tone held an undertone of mutually understood dismissal.

Carefully, Maxson eased Sole’s weight out of their seat and into his own grasp. The best plan was to take them back to their quarters and let them get sleep; he would have to remove them from the list of soldiers being sent out tomorrow. Mentally, he thanked the stars that they hadn’t passed out in the middle of a mission and instead safely on the Prydwen.

It was a somewhat uncomfortable walk to their quarters, with members rarely seeing Maxson walking about the airship instead of holed up in his own quarters, much less carrying a soldier as he did. He was grateful they had the decency not to stare too long and instead sent him their regards as he made his way through the halls. When he managed to get their door open and enter their quarters, he couldn’t help his curious look around.

Their quarters were well put-together and neat, their other uniforms folded on top of their dresser and their paperwork stacked concisely on their desk. Pushing away his curiosity he carried them across the room to their bed and lowered them carefully, wincing as their head rolled to an awkward angle. Maxson adjusted their blankets and turned out the light before closing the door softly behind him.

Nick:

To be fair, due to Nick’s lack of need for sleep, he never connected the dots that their ill-appearance had something to do with the fact that they never seemed to sleep. Nick did, however, express concern that maybe they were coming down with something and would prefer to rest. When Sole waved this off he remained worried but chose to drop it.

It was when they were in the middle of discussing their own case with Nick and their consciousness started slipping that he realized what was going on. With a sigh at his own inability to realize what was going on with them, he eased them into laying down on the couch instead of sitting upright, and drew a blanket over them. After a quick word with Ellie to keep the office quiet, he settled back into his chair.

Piper:

Piper was no stranger to sleepless nights that drew into borderline-sleepless weeks. She attempted to coax Sole into taking a break and sleeping, especially when they were talking about investigating for a story and began falling asleep mid-sentence, but Sole shrugged off her concern with a comment about insomnia and made an attempt to continue the conversation.

The unfortunate side effect of their lack of sleep returned swiftly after and took them right back out of the discussion, much to Piper’s dismay. She moved them until they were reclined on her couch and cursed the fact that they had so much on their plate and their body wouldn’t let them sleep. She made a note to herself to discuss researching other ways to solve their insomnia before she stepped outside, deciding to get lunch to give them some peace and quiet.

Preston:

Preston often took it upon himself to monitor Sole’s condition; if the General wasn’t in the best shape they could be, the Minutemen wouldn’t be either. However, no matter how often he pressed the importance of sleep on them, they never seemed to be getting enough. At first he was frustrated they didn’t seem to be taking his advice seriously, until Mama Murphy commented one day that she’d seen them pacing in through Sanctuary, looking ready to drop at any moment. No one was that exhausted by choice.

He consulted Sturges about possible remedies for insomnia to no avail as he watched their dark circles get darker and the bags under their eyes weigh down their poster until they were walking slowly, feet shuffling and shoulders pushed forward. They did their best to maintain professionalism, however at some point it became all too much.

There was an attack on Sanctuary by raiders chasing after the resources that finally became plentiful enough to support the settlers. The alarm blaring alerted everyone to be aware of their surroundings and fight for their little town shortly after Preston sighted them. Sole had rushed out of their house, nearly tripping over their own feet, gun in hand and eyes lit up in fury despite their exhaustion.

It was no secret they were fiercely protective of the settlement they’d helped put together and the people it housed. They fought hard beside Preston, however it seemed the lack of sleep was finally getting to them. As the raiders began dwindling in numbers, Preston called out to Sole to check if they needed backup. They struggled to respond, knees buckling slightly.

With a shout to Sturges, he caught them and hauled them into a far safer location, putting distance between them and the front lines. Gunfire sounded out, a tad muffled by the distance and the walls of their house, and he dropped them on their couch as gently as he could. They would have to deal with the circumstances until the fight was over.

As soon as Preston returned to the front of Sanctuary, it seemed the fighting finally stopped. The wounded were carted back to the clinic that, thankfully, had just been set up properly, and Sturges led those still not tired to repairing their defensive wall. Preston, sporting a slight sprain to his wrist and multiple scrapes from bullets that just barely missed, returned to Sole’s side to make sure they were okay.

If he didn’t know better he would’ve assumed they were dead, considering the way they were sprawled limply across their couch, unmoved since he unceremoniously dumped them their. He supposed, with a sigh, that they had to give out sometime, and the world simply had the most unfortunate timing. Unsurprising, considering where they lived.

He bandaged and braced his wrist himself as he sat in a nearby chair, watching over them for a moment as he gathered himself. Considering they were out of commission for the time being, he would have to take over leading everyone in recollecting themself after the fight. For the moment, though, he would breathe in time with their resting body, and gather his thoughts. On the list of things to do, after repairing Sanctuary and its people, was finding some way to help Sole’s insomnia.

X6-88:

X6 noticed the moment Sole stopped sleeping; that was technically part of his job. He didn’t predict that he wouldn’t be able to simply tell them to take a break and sleep, though. Once they explained to him that it was more complicated than that and they physically couldn’t get their body to rest, he reported to the Institute scientists.

Perhaps he was exaggerating a bit, out of concern, no, responsibility to the person he was in charge of, but he recommended they consider giving Sole mandatory time off and researching something to help them with their insomnia. Alarmed by X6’s information, the Institute did exactly that. Sure, Sole wasn’t that happy with him for forcing them to take time off, but it was for their own well being. He refused to let it get to the point that he would let them get hurt during something important because they simply couldn’t stay awake any longer.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #Cait #Curie #Paladin Danse #Deacon #Mayor Hancock #Gage #RJ MacCready #Nick Valentine #piper #Preston Garvey #x6-88 #companions react

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silentprincess17 · 3 years ago

Text

A Proposal Gone Awry

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

Summary: Link has been touring the breadth and width of Hyrule to clear out the remaining monster camps, and soon enough, he reaches Zora’s Domain. Mipha asks him to wait before he heads back to the castle, which he was intending on doing... but some mischievous children may have other plans.

Part 4 (Final)

Mipha floated in the pool, the water cascading in gentle waves over her prone form.

It was the fifth time she had left her own private pools after a prolonged period of recovery. She waded her way through a sea of guilt, shame, mortification, longing, pining and despair. Heartbreak was a painful thing, and it was a shame her Grace couldn’t heal it. Still, her time in almost near seclusion had helped her to come to several key realisations, which she could freely admit after the initial torment and hurricane of emotions drifted into colder water.

Number 1: She realised how much she had fooled herself.

Really, she had never even talked to Link about her feelings, planning to use the armour as her segue on the topic. An armour given at an engagement! What had she been thinking? How had she deluded herself into it?

Number 2: The answer was that she was simply too scared. Too terrified to ever voice her affection for him. And it had all backfired so spectacularly. There were so many signs that she had, simply put, ignored. All the way from Link saving Zelda during their journey, to finding out who they really were: soulmates bound through all of time and fated to be together. Her cheeks coloured, from thinking of all of the ridiculous explanations she had made up in order to continue living in a fantasy she had constructed in her mind.

Number 3: All of this could have been avoided, if she had talked to him properly.

Still, it was too late to regret it now, but with hindsight, she should have done everything differently from the start. She could have saved herself so much pain. The only saving grace she had was that Link thankfully had no idea what was going on. She didn’t even want to consider what would have happened had he realised.

The flow of the water changed, and Mipha instinctively looked up, as Bazz walked in, holding a bloom of Blue Nightshades in his hands. Every day since she had returned from the castle, he came carrying a small bundle of flowers as an apology. He had noticed how reclusive she had become, and the blanket of sadness that covered her like waves covered the ocean. She had reassured him multiple times she wasn’t sad because of his little stunt, and he didn’t need to bring flowers, but the poor boy had taken it to heart.

He had even brought the whole gang over on the first day that she had left her rooms, each of them bearing a gift. Bazz himself had brought her purple hyacinths, which apparently “symbo-bolises forgive-ness”. Gaddison had polished her treasured Lightscale Trident, something which Mipha hadn’t held for over two months. It had felt so good to wield it in her hands again. Rivan had given her a hearty blue snail, whilst Sidon had given her a huge hug, and a pendant that had Vah Ruta engraved into it. She knew her father must have helped him, but she still appreciated the effort he had put in. Once she had hugged him, he had softly whispered in her ear that she was his Hero, and he wanted her to smile again, like this, and he had given her the best gift of all- his trademark smile and pose.

It had made her feel comforted and helped her realise that she had a family here. She had responsibilities. She couldn’t just hide away from the world because she didn’t have the courage to talk to the man she loved, and now he had been taken away.

She was Mipha, Princess of the Zora, a daughter, a sister, a warrior. Yes, Link had played a large part in her motivations. She had always wanted to protect him, ultimately. First by healing his wounds, then by fighting the lynel with him, to finally creating an armour containing a piece of herself. But what she had failed to realise then, and she understood now, was that it wasn’t just all for Link. It was for her Domain, for her people who she would eventually rule over.

After that fourth realisation, it became easier to ease herself out of her rooms. To slowly begin to partake in the council meetings. To swim in her home’s beautiful waterfalls. To allow herself to heal.

She smiled as Bazz shuffled closer, his sword still scrapping the floor with every other step. He held out the peonies he had gathered today, and this time pressed a letter into her hand. She raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged. She flipped it open, and it was about an event at the Flight Range. She read, and reread the short brief,

To all the children in Hyrule,

I, the Great Revali, Champion of the Rito, will be offering free lessons in the all-important field of archery.

Should you want to participate, convince your parents/guardians to bring you this Saturday to the Flight Range.

Teenagers are welcome on the following day and for those who do not possess this basic knowledge, I mean Sunday.

Remember that if you do come, I will expect nothing less of excellence, or at least, the maximal effort to be demonstrated until you achieve said excellence.

Master Revali, Champion of the Rito

Well, she never would have guessed Revali liked children. Or indeed teaching. He… well, she wouldn’t say he was the most patient of the Champions. Still, it was good of him to do… probably. She wasn’t sure he would have many students left after the first session.

But why had Bazz given this to her….? She got her answer when she looked up to Bazz’s huge, silently pleading eyes. She sighed. The children had done a lot for her these past few months. It was the least she could do to supervise them on a short trip. It was highly likely Revali would scare them all away, if she was being honest, which would be the main reason she wouldn’t want to bring them. Still, if they wanted to go, then she would accompany them. It was only right she gave back a little of what they’ve given her.

She smiled as she heard Bazz screaming to the other three and lifted herself out of the pool. She was out of practise with her spear, and she was certain Revali would notice. Not that she cared for his crass comments, especially considering what she had gone through these past two months… but she was still competitive and just in case he asked her to practise like they once used to, she needed to make sure she wouldn’t fail within the first minute.

The children squabbled together on the swim to the Rito Village. They were excited for their first time out exploring Hyrule, and she had to remain vigilant if any one of them decided to pop up for air and sit on the bank to appreciate the views. Whilst she did understand how shockingly green the world must appear to them when compared to the Domain, there were still monsters around, and these children were all her responsibility.

Soon enough they arrived, threaded in amongst the throng of people present in the Flight Range. Revali was at the entrance, by a giant board of names. He held the chalk in his hands as he wrote down the name of each child at a specific time slot, before directing them towards the bonfire that was burning in order to stay warm. From what she could make out, around half of the slots were filled, with lessons starting at 1 pm. As this was the sign up session, no one had been assigned into classes yet. She assumed it would be dependent on the numbers that turned up today…

She made sure the children were organised in file row by age, with the eldest first, (Gaddison, Bazz, Rivan and Sidon) before she approached Revali.

He merely nodded at her, wrote down the four names and directed her in much the same way as everyone else. Well, she wasn’t expecting favouritism, but surely in light of their history he could- wait- actually… What did she want him to do? She had only had a few training sessions with Revali, and aside from the battles they had fought together, she had rarely interacted with him. He didn’t tend to stay for the informal sessions they had as Champions, and, as he rubbed a lot of their group the wrong way, she had never paid much attention as to why that was.

She only smiled, asked if he needed any help, “No thank you, Mipha. Just head to the bonfire.” And Mipha understood his curt dismissal. He looked stressed, and she wouldn’t want to exacerbate that.

After a couple of hours, it was the Zora children’s turn. All of them headed off towards the Flight Range, were given basic instructions in how a bow works by Revali, and a brief guide into using a paraglider as an emergency safety check. The main benefit of practising at the Flight Range was that even if they slipped, or lost control, the wind was so strong it would buffet them in the air until Revali himself would pick them up. Anyway, no one would be flying out unless they fell; the first lessons would take place on the deck whilst aiming at the target just across.

Mipha was not afraid of anything going wrong. She trusted Revali. Despite their differences, Revali would never let any of one of them down.

Gaddison did the best, she adapted well to the new weapon, a swallow bow, managing to hit the inner turquoise ring after five arrow shots, whilst Bazz came in second hitting it after eight. Rivan managed in twelve, and Sidon could only hit the outside ring. He was perhaps too small for this sort of venture. Mipha understood his need to participate though; she knew he really wanted to be accepted into Bazz’s brigade, and she wouldn’t stop him from trying to fit in.

Whilst the children were firing at the target, she came to stand by Revali. He was intently focussed, but she thought she could perhaps try to get him to relax a little.

“This is a really good thing you’re doing Revali… training the next generation of potential archers.”

He fixed his emerald eyes on her, funny, how she had never noticed the startling colour before, “Well thank you, Mipha. Not all of us are handed our legacies. I have to make my own.”

She paused… hesitated a little as she thought over what he meant. It was true: she had never realised but all of the other Champions were in positions of power. She was a Princess, Urbosa was Chief of the Gerudo, Daruk was Chief of the Gorons. Zelda was Princess of Hyrule, and Link was Captain of her Royal Guard team. Except for Revali. His only title was Champion… “Perhaps that is a good thing. Self-made legacies are the ones that people remember the most.” He didn’t reply, so she asked another question. “How did you come up with the idea of making the Flight Range a training centre?”

He wrapped both arms around his chest, which she read as a little defensive, “Teba. His son, Tulin, trains here. Well. I guess I should say, ‘will’ train here.” He shook his head, “Anyway, I also don’t want to be remembered solely by the Rito for having trained Rito warriors. I want this to be an endeavour that spans across Hyrule. Archery is just as, if not more, important than simple swordplay.”

Ah. There it was. She wisely chose not to say anything else on the matter, “It’s an admirable aim, Revali. And from the volume of people here… I’d say you are in a good position.”

He merely shrugged. “It’s only the first session, Mipha. It would be foolish to assume the same pattern for the future.” He hesitated, looked at her ornamental silver again, before his gaze flickered away onto the children. He cleared his throat, risked another glance at her, before speedily asking, “Why did you change your armour?”

She was about to respond to his initial statement actually, to reassure him that it would work, and that he was a Champion which would undoubtedly make people want their children to be taught by him, but he had caught her completely off-guard. “What do you mean?”

He jabbed a feather at her clasp. “That never used to be there.”

Oh Goddesses. How would she explain such a thing? How had he even noticed such a small difference? “Well, one of the scales needed to go. It happens sometimes.” There. That wasn’t a lie. Technically, the scale had to go, and it didn’t happen often obviously, but she wouldn’t have to explain the ins and outs.

He paused, just for a second, before continuing on, “Is it susceptible to attack?”

“Well, yes-”

He jutted in, “Would you like to train then? It’s important to maintain your defence. Especially with such a pronounced wound that anyone could take advantage of.”

She did not mention the wound was, in fact, sealed completely by the clasp. But she appreciated his offer. It had been so long since she had properly trained with a Champion. And… now actually, she could remember him doing the same thing at the ball. Had he spotted it from then? Had he wanted to ask if she was okay from then? Had he wanted to train… to help her better defend herself from then? She wasn’t sure why she found that surprising, but it felt good to know he cared. “Okay.”

“Monday evening… at the Domain, for your convenience?”

She nodded, and with that, it was the end of the children’s turn. She established what time, exactly, on Monday evening, and invited Revali to come over for dinner. He hadn’t had a chance to visit the Domain properly in all the chaos of the Calamity, but there was no such rush now.

Mipha had a giant pile of things to do, and she tried her best to do it all quickly. First, she dropped the children back to their home familial pools, reassuring their parents that everyone had been well behaved. Then she informed her father that she had invited Revali to dinner so preparations could be made in time. Finally, she visited her Divine Beast, Vah Ruta... She paused at the entrance, smoothing her hand across the door. Ruta was pleased to see her Champion back, and Mipha found herself falling back into her routine of caring: she gave Ruta good clean, and even ended up having a late-night bonding training session to attempt to prepare herself for Monday.

In all her haste to do it all, by the time she finally reached her pools, she was so tired she immediately blacked out.

It was only in the morning that she realised, for the first time that night, in the span of two months, she didn’t think of Link. Of her failed proposal. Of her shame and embarrassment at reading the whole situation so wrongly.

And she finally braved the courage to pull out the package that she hadn’t touched since that evening. She decided it was time to post it to Link. She wrote a short note about completing his armour set, and she didn’t mention anything else. By letting go of it, and subsequently of the feelings that were associated with it, Mipha finally felt lighter than she had for a long time.

She grabbed her Lightscale Trident, keen on getting some practise before Revali came. Who knows, maybe he could teach her some archery too. Whatever it was, she was keen to finally put her trident to some good use again. For the first time in two months, she had something to look forward to… a goal she could achieve.

Perhaps her proposal had gone awry… but it had given her a much needed wake up call.

She was more than a girl who loved a boy.

She was Mipha, Princess of the Zora, Champion of the Zora and of Vah Ruta, a warrior and healer that contributed to the destruction of the Calamity. She was Sidon’s hero, and it was time she lived up to it.

Mipha stepped forward, her Grace poised in her movements, bold, determined, and ready.

#a propsal gone awry #zelink #zelink fanfic #mipha #revali #miphvali #silent writes

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