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ikemenomegas · 2 years ago

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Getou Suguru x Reader

"Somewhere there is a simple life"

or "four sorcerers' day in the world of humans, four years after betrayal"

tw: omegaverse, geto typical murderous mentions? children being cute? hints of past satoxsuguxreader, mentions of pregnancy

Sometimes you wonder if things could have been different, if you could have had this happiness in some other time, in some other place. It doesn't matter now, you suppose. There are no other times, no other places. Suguru has made his choice, and you have made yours.

And you have chosen to have moments of happiness, just like this one, for as long as you can.

Morning light slants early and golden over the table. Mimiko is, as usual, quiet, but she is awake, responding in her breathy voice to your questions and tentatively padding around the kitchen with you. She takes small dishes from your hand and sets them on the table.

The table is filled with them. Many colors and a traditional set up of different kinds of vegetables, broiled fishes, salad, tofu and bean curds.

Nanako had tried to help, but she'd sat down and fallen asleep again with her head against the wall, phone face down on her thigh. She's drooling a bit, so deeply asleep, and it makes you want to laugh.

Mimiko catches your eye and you tilt your head to her sister. She rolls her eyes a bit, smile playing about her mouth and she silently sounds out "playing Ace Attorney" and goes back to working around her sleeping twin, rearranging the plates to her heart's content.

Suguru catches you on the shoulder, fondness in his voice when he says "We spoil them."

"Who spoils them," you raise any eyebrow at him and press your lips to the juncture of his jaw, breathing in his scent, still heavy and warm after taking an early call in your bed.

With Mimiko's back turned and Nanako still soundly asleep, you nip a little at the skin over his scent gland and make a low playful sound in your throat at the spark of mischief and warning in your mate's dark brown eyes.

"Everything okay?" you ask him.

His arm slips around your waist as he sags against your back. "Yeah, just some little remnants that don't want to fall in line. Toshihisa is going to handle it."

"Good. You promised to take a break."

"You promised to take me to ride the boats," Mimiko appeared in front of you and looked up at Suguru.

He crouched down, backs of his pajama pants touching the floor. You missed seeing him like this more often. He was usually in the priest's garb which still made him seem somehow untouchable. It wasn't just the clothes, it was the persona.

You'd never really though of Suguru as an actor before, but now he had a half a dozen faces he seemed to switch between and some of them were less pleasant than others. You never feared he would hurt you, but it hurt nonetheless to see his pain curdled to hatred the way it had.

He ruffled Mimiko's hair. "Soup, showers, sheets," he listed off on three fingers, "then the boats."

Mimiko puffed out her cheeks. She might be the quiet twin, but she was often the more stubborn. Sometimes you thought Nanako just complained for her and that was why she was louder. It was good though to see them loud.

Suguru had told you from the beginning what happened in the village and it hadn't surprised you that both of the twins had been quiet and anxious for almost a year.

"Ah, right, the soup," you murmured and left them to their staring contest.

As planned, once Nanako was awakened and everyone had eaten, the girls had showered, and new bedding had been placed in your room and the twins' room, a load of the laundry started in the washer, you all headed to the park.

The train was not as crowded now that rush hour had passed but Suguru still pressed close to you, a twist to the corner of his lips which he hid in your hair when anyone human brushed by him. You beckoned Mimiko and Nanako close as a pack of students pushed onto the train.

You leaned up to murmur something in Suguru's ear and accidentally caught the eye of a beta woman sitting in one of the seats.

She must have mistaken the stress in your eyes, because she carefully rose and offered it to Suguru.

The transformation was disquieting, the way Suguru's expression relaxed into a sheepish laugh and he tried to refuse.

The beta woman said something about having young kids and Suguru finally sat down, half to shut her up you suspected. Nanako clambered on top of him. You had seen her watch the exchange with attentive eyes and it seemed she had resolved to help Suguru play act.

You inclined your head in thanks to the beta and covered your mouth with your sleeve, laughing a bit at his expense. Suguru gave you a sulky look when Mimiko joined her sister, choosing to stand with her hand braced on Suguru's knee while you pressed close behind her to give the train car a bit more breathing room.

Upon exiting the train at your station, Suguru found a restroom to wash his hands and yours before you all found your way above ground again.

Everyone relaxed once you reached the park. Natural green spaces were places of relaxation and healing and seldom attracted as many curses as other gathering places. If they were present they were usually easily dealt with.

It was a little more difficult to carry your tanto around these days. It was harder to hide the residuals of a cursed tool, and it was dangerous to carry a blade in public. You also typically didn't need it.

Suguru collected so many curses now, you thought sadly. Your grip on his fingers tightened as you walked side by side, watching Mimiko and Nanako run along the paths and into the forest.

One of those curses, a cute thing that looked somewhat like a couch cushion or maybe that footrest from the movie with the singing furniture, chased after them, baring its teeth like a little dog at the birds that fluttered around the pavement.

The twins called for you two to hurry up, dashing back and forth as you made your way to the boats.

They had already chosen a pair of swans - one white and one a pale blue - when you made it to the docks. They were deep in the process of deciding which one of them would sit with Suguru when he went over to egg them on.

You shook your head, smiling while you paid the woman at the counter. She offered you a knowing sort of smile when Suguru grabbed the back of Nanako's collar, preventing her from nearly dashing into the water.

You clapped your hands, holding up the tickets. "Who's going to ride with me first? Ah, you've been giving Suguru so much attention, I think I'm feeling lonely. The kids must not think I'm fun anymore."

Nanako shrugged out of Suguru's grip. "Mimiko, you should sit with them."

"No way," Mimiko said quietly, "you didn't help set up for breakfast. You should spend more time with them."

Suguru looked up at your stunned face and laughed, his brows crinkling together and shoulders shaking.

"You're their teacher," you said to him, putting on a show of being hurt, "shouldn't you teach them better manners?" You put a hand on your chest, "My feelings are hurt, no one wants to sit with me and win the boat race."

"Boat race?" the twins looked up in tandem with the cursed spirit that was still running around their feet.

You sighed, closing one eye. "Hmm. I don't know if I want to anymore. Everyone seems to want a peaceful ride with Getou-sensei. Maybe I should just go find us some ice cream instead."

The sisters looked at one another and you smirked to yourself, meeting Suguru's eyes. Something flashed through them, troubled or melancholy maybe.

Maybe you were laying it on a little thick, imitating the kind of games that used to work to distract Satoru and pull Shoko out of her isolating distance. Now your heart gave a real pang which you brushed aside as the twins seemed to come to a conclusion and flocked towards you, pushing you into the white boat. Nanako had leapt in and was poking around in curiosity.

It had already been four years. You'd only been at the school for three.

A dull bang on the outside of the boat startled you from your thoughts. Suguru leaned through the window. "Do you know how to drive this thing?"

You looked down at the pedals below your feet. "It can't be that hard," you replied.

"And," you grinned at him, "it's not like I was planning on playing fair."

Suguru smiled back. "How funny, neither was I."

It was fun to stretch the limits of your power for once. Since living at Suguru's compound you didn't need to go and risk your life as often. Sometimes you went out to deal with matters that stressed his tolerance for human hypocrisy, but mostly people came to him.

You used your cursed technique to make the boat go faster while Suguru summoned a pair of water-born curses to pull his boat.

The twins laughed and cheered each of you on, clambering between boats in a manner that would have gotten you all yelled at if you hadn't made your way to a quiet part of the river.

Eventually they grew tired and the boats were returned. They were tired enough to be subdued while eating the lunch you brought but the food restored enough of their energy that they clamored to be carried home.

Suguru huffed under Nanako's weight when she threw herself onto his back. "I think it's time to find something big enough to carry everyone. You're getting taller."

Mimiko made the decision to keep a hold of your sleeve.

"Are you sure you don't want to be carried too?"

Mimiko looked up Nanako who grinned at her. When you crouched down, she carefully wrapped her arms around your neck before you stood up.

"Aren't we taking the train back to the temple?" she asked quietly.

You glanced at the back of Suguru's head but he gave no indication one way or the other. He'd do anything for the twins. They'd grown up in the countryside and the Tokyo trains in their massive stations could sometimes still be something exciting for the girls.

"Getou-sensei doesn't want to go down there with all the stinky monkeys," Nanako said, loudly.

"Na-"

"It's alright," Suguru said. "If you want to take a train back."

You felt Mimiko lean her head against yours. The girls were not quite yet nine. They would get heavy if you carried them for long, but you'd carried heavier.

"Let's walk for a bit," you said, drawing up to him so you were shoulder to shoulder, so the twins' knees would nearly knock together if it weren't for your mate's advantage in height. "Manami can come pick us up when we're done."

Suguru purred, in some kind of encouragement you thought, the deep sound rumbling out to encompass the four of you. You knew he hadn't brought it up because some of the curse users who were showing up were making you... territorial. Manami maybe wasn't entirely to blame. She was another alpha and had shown up when the bond-mark between you and Suguru was still new.

But Suguru had since made it very clear that she was lower in the hierarchy of the family than you were, which helped. A little. Enough that you were comfortable ordering her around for his comfort at least.

Manami still passed Suguru a tablet once she found you with a car. When you tried to glare at her in the mirror, he just handed it to you with a laugh.

Opening it filled you with dread. You didn't want to know what he was up to half the time. But it wasn't the worst thing you'd seen. And most of it was - oh.

"This is my project," you murmured, flipping through a document.

It wasn't very detailed. At best it could be called an outline of the information you'd sought, but you could fill in more of it.

Suguru leaned over your shoulder, pulling back from talking to the twins likely unwisely seated together in the front seat. He had rolled up his sleeves at some point and his skin where it brushed yours was very warm.

You glanced up at him, only for him to raise an eyebrow and hum in expectation.

You pressed your lips together and looked back at the tablet, slowly curling up with Suguru around it as he pointed out details and you made notes with a stylus.

He took it back when Manami said something you hadn't heard, but this time you let him, after giving him a stern look. "Nothing stressful," you reminded him lowly. Both of you knew it was more a hope than command, but he took it good naturedly.

He leaned forward to discuss a job with the other alpha and you leaned back, head on the sun-warmed leather seat, pressed thigh to thigh with Suguru, thinking of what was in the refrigerator to make for dinner, of how you would get around the school's - it was still weird to think of that as the marker for the sorcerer world, to be on the other side of "us and them" - monitoring in order to get the project going, wondering if it would be harder or easier to get Nanako to actually go to sleep after the day you'd had.

Who would have thought running off with a condemned criminal would turn out to be so domestic? It wasn't a new thought, but it certainly made it easier to pretend that this was not as bad as it could be. It was not as bad as it could be. Maybe there wasn't only blood at the end of the road.

Nanako called your name and you lifted your head up to see her squishing her head between the seat and the wall, hair all scrunched up against the plastic.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Mimiko should dye her hair?"

"Does Mimiko want to dye her hair?"

The girls had decided on western style food for dinner and had finally quieted down enough that they were settled in front of the television with the workbooks one of the tutors Suguru tolerated had them working on.

Yet another reason to the move the project forward. For now, the girls had not yet divided the world around them into sorcerers and non-sorcerers. They were still receptive to genuine kindness from normal humans. But Suguru's distaste for the visitors was obvious to you and you didn't want to wait for the twins to start mirroring it to their tutors' faces.

You moved laundry from the washer to the dryer and filled the first machine up again while Suguru pulled ingredients down from the cabinets.

When you got back to the kitchen, it was your turn to sag against him, flopping to the floor and resting your head on his lower back when he went to rummage in the refrigerator for a drink.

"What?"

You let out a helpless giggle, all the thoughts you had quieted while in public rushing back now that you were back at home.

Suguru bit back a wide smile, the sort of genuine smile that reminded you why you'd left, made you glad that you'd followed him.

He sat on the floor at your side, arm propped up on one knee as he popped open a melon flavored pouch of vitamin jelly he'd found.

The sounds of Doraemon came from down the hall but neither of the kids made much noise. Still, you kept your voice low. "We're twenty-one with twin girls. I'm exhausted."

Suguru laughed, leaning over until his head was resting on top of yours. You just breathed in the scent of him, the faint remaining smell of sunlight and fresh water from the park which overlaid the traces of the inoffensive laundry soap you all used and over that his scent, shifting layers of pine and blackberry, mint, and white tea. You would know him anywhere.

You reached up and felt his forehead with the back of your fingers. Still warm, like you had worried it might be.

Suguru pulled your hand away, pressing his lips to your index finger and threading your fingers together on his lap.

"It's fine."

"Let me worry for you," you say. If there is no one else, let me be the one to remember you are human.

"Alright," he says, such a soft affirmation, using his thumb to massage circles on your still captured hand while he humors you.

All the words pile together at the base of your tongue, flooding up now that they are given permission. He's been working too hard - consuming curses from humans that make even you tempted to try your hand at the kind of murder that's more than just business, relocating to this temple in the last year, making sure that the operation is entirely under the radar so that he doesn't get caught before he's ready, managing the incredibly petty squabbling between the chairmen and leaders of the cults he's pulled together under his feet.

And it's not like you're not also stressed. You're not kidding when you say it's hard work parenting when you're technically still on the run. It's easy to transfer money so thankfully you don't have to do something as stereotypical and dastardly and inconvenient as drag actual bags of cash around, but at your insistence there are go-bags in your closet, one for each of you. You know Suguru has made that stupid little worm with the infinite stomach swallow things other than weapons.

Maybe there is money in there. Who knows. But the point is you're not the one that gets hit with dry heats on top of migraines and nausea so bad he can't eat, and you're not the one suffering through them just to make another point in front of the monkeys.

And you miss Satoru. You don't know why you're thinking of him so much today. Maybe because he always found a way to make Suguru laugh and it's getting harder and harder to do that these days. He spends too much time behind the faces he wears when he's in that stupid monk's uniform.

You eye the vitamin pack and Suguru rolls his eyes at you, squeezing more of the jelly into his mouth.

"We don't know if this one is going to go all the way," he reminds you. Which is probably why he picked that and not one of the calpico or canned teas. You swear he eats like an old man (or a child, you recalled Suguru and Satoru picking through bags of candy on the lawn, no middle ground). You'd learned to make shojin ryori dishes as a joke about the priest thing and because doing it calmed you down whenever you started panicking about what Suguru was doing at the rebranded Star Cult and what you were doing waiting at home like his stay-at-home alpha.

"The thing I hate most--" you hesitated but Suguru's clear apprehension spurred you on. "The thing I hate most is seeing you in pain."

He barely hesitates before he's pulled back enough to let you see the slightly licentious look on his face, a growl behind his words when he leans in close to your ear. "That's not what it felt like when you made me come screaming last time."

Immediately your face flares hot, rushing from your chest to the top of your head. You know he's trying to distract you. It doesn't stop you from whipping your head to the door and your breath going silent, shallow and quick. You're praying there are no approaching footsteps to match the rapid pattering of your heart in your ears.

There's nothing. Everything is right here in front of you, one hand clutching his stomach as tears of silent laughter spring to the corner of his eyes.

He's trying to be quiet as you are, cognizant of the kids not too far away, but a peal of laughter still escapes when he goes to take a breath. "Wish you could see your face."

It's very tempting to remind Suguru what his face looked like, flushed and panting, too strung out to look like anyone but himself, but you're not quite that shameless.

You're also not quite detached enough not to etch this face into your memory too. The one that looks like it comes from a different time and place entirely from anywhere you've been with Suguru before. You think that maybe this is what's on the other side of Suguru's poisoned dream.

Someone joyous and terrible, who does not need to understand their place on the altar of the world because it is already known, someone who understands without burden.

Yet it's distinctly immature the way he snickers at you trying to restore a bit of your composure by channeling the heat in your body away.

If anyone ever finds this memory, you will blame the impulsiveness of youth on the way you hiss out "maybe we should actually get you pregnant with twins and see who's laughing." It's not exactly fair to start something you can't finish - you can hear water boiling on the stove - but you can also hear the way the air catches in his throat and see red splashing across his cheeks like you've slapped him.

There's a tingle that goes down your neck when you watch Suguru shiver, even while your hands are already going to your mouth. "Sorry," you squeak out past your fingers.

Suguru coughed out a sheepish laugh, red slowly making its way to the tips of his ears. "Weren't you the one that just said two makes you tired? What are we going to do with four?"

Keep you out of trouble for a year?

"I don't know," you say instead, almost without thinking, still in shock at your own words. "People says babies are cute. We missed the twins' terrible twos so we'd get to do that."

"Who wants to experience temper tantrums?"

At that you scoffed your eyes, "Like you haven't seen someone way older through a tantrum before."

The red was finally fading from Suguru's cheeks as he rolled his eyes in agreement. He sucked thoughtfully on the supplement pack, sitting back against the wall. You knew you were thinking of at least one of the same people.

He stayed on the floor when you got up and dumped a package of pasta into the now roiling pot, stirring it doubtfully. It wasn't what you had grown up eating and even following a recipe you weren't always sure you had gotten things right. The kids seemed to think it was good enough though so you left it after dumping more salt into the water.

You settled back down next to him. So rare were the days when you got him, just him, all to yourself. No robes, no swallowing down bitter curses, no cruel, empty shape to his face when he returned.

The sun was starting to set.

You pressed your forehead to Suguru's temple, caressing his cheek and pulling him as close as he would allow. Something in him fell away, resistance or tension. He gave the vaguest shiver once more when you used your other hand to slip beneath the collar of his shirt and trace your fingers around the bite on the back of his shoulder.

It wasn't a sorcerer's mating. Suguru accepted your distance from the cults' cursework but would not risk the hold on his power. He'd wanted the mark though. You were not sure why.

He still seemed less on-edge when the inevitable scuffle came down the hall and you pulled apart with one last nuzzle.

"Can I have a snack?" Nanako asked, but you could see Mimiko hanging in her shadow for a second before she brought her workbook up with her and set it down on the ground at your side.

Suguru offered Nanako the rest of the vitamin supplement and she just wrinkled her nose at him. His eyes were soft when he heaved himself up with a sigh, stretching to treat you with a flash of his toned stomach.

He just seemed smug when you tsk'd at him and he went to start cutting up an apple for the girls to share.

You brought Mimiko over to the table where you pointed out the correct strokes on her kanji practice.

Dinner was a more subdued affair, children tired but satisfied in their adventures. The twins recount the boat ride. It seems to have satisfied Mimiko's curiosity but now Nanako wants to go back. There's a zoo in your future apparently, but also she likes the water. And clambering back and forth between the boats. She's got a delinquent streak in her, a confident irreverence that makes it all too easy to imagine some other way for how she'd come into your life.

Mimiko cajoles her, already intent on imitating Suguru's surface level decorum. Nanako's power has to do with pictures but Mimiko is the one who watches with sharp dark eyes.

It's disrespectful to the food to be filled with such dark feelings but you again feel a pulse of hate for the villagers you had never met. The ones who had locked such bright young girls in a cage. The ones who had likely been involved in their parents' deaths.

You're not glad that Suguru killed them all but you are glad that they have you now. Spilling pasta sauce across the table and pouring their salad on top of it so they have a hard time finishing both things and all.

More dishes, more laundry, then the children to brush their teeth while Suguru showers and then you do the same right after while he reads to them, telling them sorcerers stories of spirits and old heroes. It's a rhythm that is all too easy to follow. There is always something to do in the house and Suguru refuses "monkey" servants in his living space so you two do it all yourselves.

If you wanted, it would be easy to forget just how far you've stumbled from the life you once thought you would live.

Suguru's hair is so long it is still damp when you pull a comb through it, sitting cross legged on the low bed. It's left a wet patch in the middle of his back and you pull the shirt from his skin so it dries faster. Your knuckles brush the soft skin at the back of his neck when you lift his hair but it's so typical you are in one anothers' space he barely blinks.

How strange to be sentenced to death but, in these moments, no longer feel destined to die.

You twist layers of Suguru's hair around your fingers to keep it from frizzing up while he reads to you, book lying open in one broad palm while he turns the pages with his left hand.

It's a book of poetry. Suguru claims that practicing the careful cadences helps him when he has to speak at the cult. There is something rhythmic and hypnotic, quietly powerful and passionately mad about the speeches he makes to the masses, stepping into that role. But you like listening to him read because he does it without flinching, without forcing himself to passionately hate the hands that wrote the words. He does better when he doesn't see normal people. You've not quite figured out how to bring up the fact that non-sorcerers do most of the producing in the world and you're not sure how he expects modern life to survive the purge.

You suppose he doesn't, expect it to that is.

"-here I choose to dwell, the world in which I live, men have named a 'Mount of Gloom'. The color of the flower has already passed away while I set my gaze on trivial things-"*

His black hair is heavy like silk in your hands when you tug it out of the way to begin kneading into his back. Suguru's always been so beautiful. His shoulders are broad, his arms thick with muscle, his waist is wide too. He has a strong, solid silhouette built from years of fighting. He has scars, including the faded remains of the cross Toji had carved into his chest.

Sorcerers in this world did not often get a life of happiness.

Suguru put down the book in favor of pressing a kiss to the inside of your arm, pulling your fingers away from the scar. "You know having kids hurts, right?"

You buried your face in the back of his neck with a snort, rubbing your face into the soft sleep shirt and his solid back to scent your mate as he stroked the soft skin where his lips had just touched, wrapping both of his hands around yours so it was engulfed in his warmth, dipping his head to press his brow to your wrist. The wrong kind of hurt, masked again by a poor attempt at humor.

With your free hand you pressed circles into the muscle of his lower back and hips. Suguru folded forward with a low hum. He let you go so he didn't pull you over his shoulder, but his hand chased yours, fingers still tangled together for a moment over his shoulder.

"You always get tight when you're stressed and then you get headaches," you murmured. Still the wrong kind of hurt.

Suguru called your name. He lay the book in its nook within his bedside table and twisted around so that he was looking at you.

Looking at you with one of those half-stranger faces, as he often did when he wanted to lie to you. Only for it to become him again, only him, a flicker of something through his eyes.

"I'm fine," he said finally. "We knew that achieving my dream doing was going to be difficult."

You hadn't gone with him to change the world together. You also hadn't gone with him knowing that you could love someone this much. Even through this madness.

His cheek was soft and his lips softer when you kissed him. "I know."

Suguru's soft expression was the last thing you saw before using your technique to turn off the light. He huffed in faint amusement but didn't complain. He had not released you and you did not want to let him go.

You were already half tangled together before you laid side by side in the dark but as you always did, you curled around one another. Even if you did not start out this way, as long as you woke in the same bed beside your mate, it always ended up like this - twined together like choking vines, legs slotted together, arms tossed around one another.

Tonight Suguru hooked you close by your waist. His head you tucked under your chin, slowly resuming running your fingers through his hair, massaging circles at the base of his skull and rumbling in pleasure when he purred low and sleepy in response.

Even though I cannot help you, thank you for letting me take care of you.

You didn't know what mask he would put on tomorrow, but you knew who he was right now. It felt like stealing, all these moments and days when he was just with you, young and laughing and finding out who he was without the weight of a new world on his shoulders. Forgetting for a moment the blood on his hands.

No, most sorcerers did not get a life of happiness, but you would take what you could get and tuck it tight to your chest. No matter if it took longer and longer to find Suguru, no matter if one day you could still lose him.

*the poems are the end and start respectively of tanka 8 and 9 (Kisen Hoshi and Ono no Komachi) pulled by happy chance from the Hyakunin isshu which was an anthology collected by Fujiwara no Teika in 1235 and translated in 1917 by Clay MacCauley.

#getou suguru x reader #omega!suguru #alpha!reader #reader insert #alpha reader #omegaverse #io.omegas #jujutsu kaisen #i am quickly realizing that I might actually prefer writing the alpha goes with gojo version of this tragedy #it's not at all that i don't enjoy writing this. i love getou dearly #but there's a specific kind of pain associated with watching himfall further and further and knowing nothing can stop it #and writing from the point of view of someone who's not sure if they should lose themselves with him or hold onto the way things are normal #trying to keep him from being alone in the dark #i'm not sure if he's dark enough to make the alpha kill humans #but i also don't think they think they have the power/safety to teach the girls that they shouldn't kill humans #they don't think they have that right given the twins' history #incidentally the park they went to is probably Inokashira park #that's where the swan boats are famous but i'm also not thee most invested in 100% geographic accuracy #especially given i have no idea where getou's temple is located in the city (or if it's even in Tokyo)#calpico is actually really tasty it's like a milky fruit drink. it tastes like it should have yogurt in it but doesn't #shojin ryori is the overarching term for japanese style buddhist food #it's incredibly delicious and always seemed like it would be a pain to make because full sets really do come on like 10 different plates #anyway happy birthday you punk (fondly)#(guys i wrote this in like? december??? and I was so torn up about waiting until suguru's birthday but!#i didn't realize it would be here so soon! and i think it was worth the wait. I hope you do too <3)#happy birthday getou suguru

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happy-emmdings · 1 year ago

Text

So long, we’d become the flowers

Also on AO3

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Emma is forced to let Killian die instead of turning him into a Dark One in Camelot. Canon divergence, but in no way is it better.

Word count: 2 959

Author’s note: Inspired by Hozier’s song In A Week.

This is it. Emma is about to step into a brighter future. And the man she wants to share it with gives her a soft, encouraging smile across the room. It's all she needs to shed any last shred of fear. She raises the broken sword and the dagger to join them in the light.

Then, in just one fatal second, everything goes from hopeful to horribly, horribly wrong.

"Hook, what’s wrong?”

"He's bleeding!"

The shouts instantly pull her attention away from her task, just in time for her to helplessly watch Killian stagger and fall to the ground.

The cursed blades slip from her hands, and she drops to her knees next to Killian. Terror seizes her heart as she watches him writhe in pain and desperately gasp for breath. His hand is clutching his throat and it's already coated in bright red blood that seeps through his fingers and stains the metal of his rings.

“No," Emma croaks out a broken whisper, "no, no, no."

This wasn't meant to happen. He wasn't meant to leave her. He was supposed to stay. He always stays. He's her survivor. He promised. He promised.

“Excalibur was forged to cut immortal ties. A wound from it cannot be healed.”

She can't even see the painful grimace on his face through the tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. But it's etched into her mind like a bleeding cut of her own.

She strokes his face gently and lovingly as if it could put him back together. She presses her shaking hand to his on the wound, trying to keep his life from escaping, but it slips right through her fingers. His eyes roll back into his head as he tries to rasp out a few comforting words. He's comforting her. Even now he's trying to make it easier for her. But it only makes it worse. Because God, she's gonna lose him. No. No no no. Oh, God, please no.

“Killian, you have to hold on," she begs him, grasping at the lapels of his coat until her knuckles turn white. "I can't lose you."

“It's alright," he tries to say, "Emma, it's alright."

It's not. It's the furthest thing from alright.

Her future is lying half-dead on the ground and he's as broken as the promise he made. And his face is turning as white as his lies, as all the blood slowly drains from his body. So much blood. Spilling out and drowning every last hope, painting that bright future red.

"No, please no. You have to stay," she sobs. "You have to stay. Come on, Killian. What about our future together?"

“Our future is now," he whispers in a low, tired voice between labored breaths. "Reunite the blades. So I c-can see you destroy the darkness before I g-go."

He's making a dying wish, she realizes. He's saying this is the end.

But this isn't a happy ending. This is an awful ending. This is a gruesome, blood-stained, futile tragedy.

Her true love, her future is laid down on this floor like a blood sacrifice at the altar of some foreign gods, and she has no say in it.

"No!" she cries.

"No?" Regina echoes incredulously.

"Emma, there's nothing you can do," her parents join in.

It's not true. She can save him. She will keep him. Even if it means pouring darkness into his veins and filling his head with demons. But what storm is there that they could not weather together? They can exorcise each other's demons, they can make this work.

They all plead with her not to do it. They tell her it'll come with the steepest of prices. But what price could be steeper than the one she's being forced to pay right now?

Her family is surrounding her on their knees. Her father is stroking Killian's head to comfort him as he's crying out in pain. Such tender care in their eyes, and they advocate for his death.

"I don't care what happens to me!" she argues against their pleas.

"Emma, wait."

"Please. Listen, you can't."

"Emma, your parents are right."

Killian can't even speak anymore. His eyes are clouded and distant and he's choking on his own blood.

How dare they say such things. How is this fair? After everything she's done for them. After everything Killian's done. Is he not family? Does he not deserve better than to be left for dead?

After she was promised as a sacrifice for the greater good on the day of her birth and made to bear the burden of their savior, how dare they tell her to give him up? After the risk she took for Regina and Robin, why can't she take the same risk for Killian?

"I'm not gonna lose Killian," she insists in a hoarse voice. "I won't let anyone stop me."

“No," she hears and the word pierces through her mind like a dagger and freezes her in place. The field of roses she's trying to reach in her mind is forcefully torn from her, and she remains nailed to the diner's floor.

She turns around with desperate fury in her eyes. Regina is holding out the blade with Emma's name on it. Blinding white-hot rage fills her at the sight.

“I won't let you do it, Emma," the Queen says, calm and resolute. "Let go."

Emma’s hands go slack on their own, losing their grip on Killian's leather coat. She glances at him with increasing panic in her eyes. Her heart is pounding so fast she might just die right there, immortal or not.

She's losing him. There's no time. Color is fading from his face. There's a puddle of blood around his head, soaking his ebony hair.

“What are you doing?" she barks out angrily, her voice breaking. She stares at her trembling hands.

"Saving you from making a mistake," Regina insists and her calmness sounds so infuriatingly arrogant to Emma's ears.

"No!" Emma sobs. "You don't get to do that! If you could have saved Daniel... or Robin... Look how far you were willing to go! How far you pushed me to save him! You can't do this to me!"

“I have to. You gave me the dagger, remember?"

"This isn't why I gave it to you!" she screams.

"This is exactly why you gave it to me," Regina counters.

“No! Give it to me. I take it back!"

"I'm afraid that's not happening," Regina shakes her head and takes a deep breath as she holds out the cursed blade. "I command you, Dark One, to let him go. For your own sake."

The command is final and nonnegotiable. It's a death sentence embellished with halfhearted self-righteousness. And there's nothing Emma can do against it. She might as well have her heart ripped out from her chest.

Emma wants to lunge at her but the tiniest of whimpers makes her whip her head around to look at Killian. All fight drains from her and she's left shivering with a cold dread, as her heart sinks deep into a pit in her stomach. She strokes his hair with a shaking hand and cries.

She can't even press her hand against the bleeding wound, no matter how much she wants to, because her own body refuses to obey her, as it's enslaved to the dagger's power.

Her forehead falls on his and she hugs him close, carrying them to the field of flowers in her mind.

“It's alright, Emma," he rasps out so quietly, she can barely hear him. "I don't want... to pay the price. I don't want to become t-that... It's enough... It's enough for me that... that you'll have that future."

"But that's not enough for me!" she cries desperately.

She calls upon the darkness to bring her Excalibur, but it doesn't come. The last command she was given still stands and her hands are tied. She can't do anything to save him.

She sobs into Killian's chest as it slowly ceases to rise and fall. The last thing she feels is a weak, trembling touch on the crown of her head. He uses his last drop of strength and consciousness to gently brush his fingers through her hair and then his hand falls limply at his side.

A loud, broken cry shakes Emma's entire body.

A part of her mind - that feels distant and separated, as if floating above her - is faintly aware of the birds chirping in the background and the rustling leaves, the sun on her skin and the sweet smell of flowers. They're back in the field of roses. Just the two of them...

She reaches for his hand, intertwines her fingers with his and pulls their joined hands close to her chest, over her beating heart. She keeps her eyes closed and snuggles into his side as if they're lying in bed together, in a home they share, in the house he picked.

But he is completely silent. Completely still. She can't steady her breath and he has lost his completely.

She'll never hear him snore. She'll never hear him laugh again. She'll never hear him say just the thing, she needs to hear when no one else gets it.

She wishes he would just say something so desperately, that it hurts.

"Say something, Killian," she whimpers into his shoulder and clutches his hand tighter. "Don't leave me like this."

Silence.

“Come back," she pleads quietly and strokes his face, smearing blood on his cadaverous skin. "Please, Killian."

Birds. Leaves. Breeze.

"You said you were a survivor. You said I didn't have to worry about you."

Not even a sigh.

“Liar," she sobs and holds him closer. "You're such a fucking liar."

They lie there. Like two bodies in a grave.

She can feel him slowly growing colder.

She knows that if she doesn’t get up now, she’ll just bury herself alive next to him. But she has to hide in the meadow, because he has taken off her armor and she can’t remember where it went.

At one point she rolls onto her back to lie at his side and keeps holding his hand, mirroring the way they lay in this exact same spot only a week ago. Maybe they just fell asleep there. Maybe she'll wake up to him snoring quietly next to her. Maybe she'll wake up and his hand will be warm again. Maybe he'll wake her with a sweet kiss and a playful tickle. Maybe she'll open her eyes to see him smiling down at her.

Slowly, she almost drifts off to a light slumber for the first time since she appeared in this godforsaken kingdom. But she can't.

The silence is deafening and the cold is seeping into her bones and the setting sun can't seem to warm her up.

And he's gone. And she's holding a corpse.

***

It takes almost an hour before they find her. They're all devastated and worried sick, but when Regina goes to summon Emma back, David stops her. He saw the look in Emma's eyes when she was controlled with it. They can't do it to her again. Especially not right now.

Henry doesn't say a word. He walks away to sit in a booth by himself, buries his face in his hands and cries quietly. Regina goes to comfort him, but he shrugs her hand off his shoulder.

When he raises his head up, they catch him staring blankly at the puddle of blood left behind on the floor. Someone quickly mops it up. Henry's eyes don't move from the spot.

The sun was just starting to set, when Emma disappeared with Killian. Now, the sky is slowly turning darker and a pink glow bleeds into the horizon.

"Where has she gone?" Snow asks anxiously after a long, stunned silence.

“How would I know?" Regina throws her hands up.

“We should go find her," Snow insists.

“Well, I could just summon her," Regina grumbles, waving her hand with the dagger.

“We said no," David frowns.

"Can you use the dagger to take us to her?" Snow asks.

"I think so," Regina nods.

The three of them glance anxiously at Henry. No words need to be spoken for them to agree that whatever state they'll find his mother in, he should not be there to witness it.

"Henry," Regina approaches him gently, keeping her voice low and comforting. "We're gonna find Emma, okay? We'll be right back, just stay here."

Her son nods slowly and looks at her with raw and unfocused eyes. Finally, he lets her hug him.

Regina doesn't look like she wants to leave but Emma's parents insist. So, she commands the Dark One to take them to her.

They're carried to a place far too beautiful for the sad occasion. In the dimness of dusk, pink petals of a myriad of flowers appear to shine in the dark tall grass, almost like fallen stars. In the midst of all that beauty, they see a chilling vision.

A couple lies in the grass, hand in hand. From a distance it looks like they are sleeping. But the pirate's skin is too pale and his cheeks are sunken and their joined hands are covered in dried blood.

Emma stirs and slowly sits up, when they begin to approach her. There are dried tear tracks on her face and her eyes are red from crying, but the look in her eyes is blank. She puts Hook's head into her lap and gently caresses his face with her knuckles.

David gulps, but he can't tear his eyes away. Snow sobs and covers her face. Regina just stares.

"Emma..." David starts carefully.

She looks at them and pouts, pulling the pirate's lifeless body closer to her chest as if to protect him.

"What are you doing?" Regina asks wearily. There's sympathy in her eyes but not patience.

Emma's eyes land on the dagger in the Queen's hand, and she looks at her in a way that makes even Regina's blood freeze.

"Why did you do this?!" Emma hisses and they all flinch. She doesn't sound like herself at all. "I could have saved him."

"We came here to get rid of the Dark One's curse, not multiply it," Regina crosses her arms. "The whole point was to save you."

"I don't feel saved," Emma spits. "Don't you get it? No one saves the Savior. I just keep paying the price. The price of your curse. Your bullshit."

“This isn't my fault!" Regina argues. "I didn't even have to bother coming here!"

“Maybe you shouldn't have," Emma frowns. "I never should have given you that damn dagger!"

"Emma, please," Snow whispers softly. "Killian wouldn't want to become the Dark One. He spent a lifetime trying to destroy him."

"Come with us, Emma," David pleads. "You can't stay here like this. He's-"

The rest of the sentence dies on his lips. He can't bring himself to say it out loud.

Emma buries her face in Killian's hair and a quiet sob shakes her frame.

Regina pulls out the dagger again.

"Don't make me make you," she sighs.

Emma looks up slowly. Her eyes are sunken, raw and dangerous.

"Regina, stop," Snow interferes with a hint of guilt visible on her face.

"We won't force you to do anything, honey," she turns to her daughter. "But please, come with us."

“For Hook, Emma," David pleads. "You can honor him by destroying the Dark One. Once and for all."

"I am the Dark One," she rasps blankly.

"Don't be stupid, Emma. Are you planning to spend eternity here? Because I don’t think these flowers will drown out the smell," Regina lectures her, ignoring the flare of anger in Emma's eyes. "Finish what you started. Unite the blades and end this."

Emma swallows a broken sob and glances down at the man in her arms - the body in her arms.

There is something absolutely chilling about the way her face goes blank when she finally looks up. Her eyes are vacant and it looks like she's staring right through them.

No, she isn't looking at them at all. A chill creeps up their spines with a paranoid feeling that something sinister is standing right behind them, staring back into Emma's eyes.

"Alright," she says calmly, her voice raspy and hollow. "I will. Give me the dagger then."

All their eyes are drawn to the wavy blade. Regina hesitates and tightens her hold on the hilt.

Emma raises her eyebrows and somewhere between the lines it feels like a threat. All the while, she continues to run her blood-stained fingers through Killian's hair.

It may just be the dusk playing tricks on them, but they could swear her hair is a shade paler than it used to be and her skin sparkles ever so slightly. Her eyes are unfocused and her smirk is sharp.

"What?" she asks coldly. "Are you afraid of me?"

#ouat fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #dark swan #major character death #tw death #tw corpse #not a fix it #a ruin it if you will #idk what’s wrong with me #tragedy~#they’re so orpheus and eurydice #nya writes

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