#and despite numerous attempts to heal it it has never been the same
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The Heads of Mulinee Clans
Each Clan is led by one representative, either elected by their peers or trained by the previous Head. They are expected to keep the well-being and wishes of their flock in mind when voting and creating the laws which govern the Mulinee body.
Aqui Virye leads the Clan of Aquila, small and scattered as they are. Though many find him a quiet sort, his people have their complete trust in him, even if at times he may do things untraditionally, taking no Right or Left, though he claims it’s more to do with the fact there is no one around to assist. The most open minded of the Heads, he is the first to welcome outsiders into their fold, making many consider him a bit more naïve. When not taking care of official matters and tending to his people, he can be found visiting his daughter Aya.
Tor Kola leads the Torja Mulinee of the Torajan Jungles. While it is common for many Torja to become necromancers, Tor Kola is considered their best and powerful example, though a bit rather unnerving and enigmatic. They consider it their prime duty to assist the Dead as well as the Living, and instructs others in their craft when not tending to business. Many also rumor that before they had become the previous Right of Torja, they had been an assassin sent to kill the previous Tor Belol, though Tor Belol denied this claim and would dismiss any further questions.
Su Mori Al leads the Surna clan, who make their home in the Dry Steppes. She is the youngest of the Heads, and the most rather headstrong. To convince the Mulinee of Surna of change, one must convince her first, as the people of Surna hold tradition to the highest esteem, only second to gold. Once she is convinced however, she is the quickest to adapt and implement methods for the rest of Surna to do the same. As she was not trained by the previous Su, she relies heavily of her Left and Right of Surna, and consider this a weakness for the Clan, though they will not outright say this, as she more than makes up for it by constantly working.
Ki Kanol is the eldest of the Heads, and his leadership approaches the record for longest in the Kiga Clan. As one of the group that slew the Bloody Mother Flemythan, he is given much respect by all Mulinee, even if they think he is a tad…eccentric. While he may be convinced easily to welcome newcomers to the Kiga, none have been able to convince him to get rid of the fake beard, not even his late mate or his daughter. Eccentricity aside, his wit is as sharp as ever, and many are surprised on how well informed his is, no small thanks to his Right, Chialnaoth. When not attending to official matters and business in the Heart of Kiga, he is found at the Outpost in the middle grounds of Fornis and Kiga territories, and loves entertaining the pups with stories of his younger days.
While not officially Head of Clan Fornis, Pris is considered the de facto leader when her father Ki Kanol is not around. Many Fornis appreciate her level-headedness and know that she carries their best interest to heart. At the time of the death of Fo Forna, she was not considered ready to take the role of Head of Forna, by both her and her father. Thus, the Fornis clan merged with the Kiga clan, though is still recognized as it’s own clan. When not assisting in Clan matters, she leads the Fornis Scouts at the Outpost, protecting it and the families that reside within.
#diablo oc#my art#mulinee#I stayed up waaaay to late to finish this post#Tor Kola and Su Mori Al have actually been done for awhile#but got some updated looks#and Aqui Virye#Lore Bits#the scarf Kanol wears was made by his mate Forna#and the rocks are gifts from pups that he switches out every so often#Aqui Virye lost his arm in a demon fight before Aya was born#Su Mori Al may be headstrong but she does care#she is also a burnt out workaholic which makes Some People very concerned#and yes it takes her forever to apply those lines#no that is not blood on Tor Kola’s horns just the same paint they use for their eyes#Ki Kanol did not come out of the fight unscathed#his eye is corrupted#and despite numerous attempts to heal it it has never been the same#if Pris’s outfit looks familiar#it’s because she wears the Scout’s uniform#which is what Vilinaya ALSO wears#the writing to left of everyone is Mulinee#Aqui Virye#Ki Kanol#Tor Kola#Su Mori Al#Pris#Also I apologize about the order#it kept switching while I was making the post
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Rejecting you was my first mistake
→ Masterlist
Summary: They harshly reject you before realizing later on that they had feelings for you all along... only that you have already turned over a new leaf.
Pairings: Ayato, Kaeya, Xiao, Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader - [separate]
Tags: Angst, Hurt/no comfort
A/N: Hi peeps! I'm back with a new fic. Perfect for the gloomy fall season I deliver you some angst that a nonnie requested. I also added Alhaitham despite not being in the request. This is my first time writing for him (and it's angst, haha! He'll also get some fluff soon, I promise!)
AYATO
You looked below yourself and started drawing circles in the sand on the beach you were sitting on with Ayato. Your heart painfully clenched in your chest as you were unsure whether or not now was the right time to pour your heart out to the man by your side. Would he feel the same or would it end up ruining the friendship you’ve had since your childhood days?
“What is troubling you?” There really was nothing you could hide from him, was there?
“Nothing.”, you attempted to reassure him but he didn't seem convinced and raised an eyebrow with worry flaring up in his lavender eyes. You sighed deeply, your mind and heart starting to race one hundred miles per hour, while trying to gather all your courage.
“Ayato, I… I think I have feelings for you.”
“Oh.”
A small frown played around his lips that looked more like he was pitying you and you could feel how your heart shattered into a million pieces. A mind numbing silence followed your confession that almost drove you insane.
“Oh? That is all you have to say?”
“I’m sorry... I won’t be able to give you the reply you’re hoping for... I do not reciprocate your feelings, I see you more as a part of my family. I've actually been meaning to tell you today, that I’m going to be wed soon”
“... a wedding?”, you asked in disbelief with a quivering voice.
“It has not been officially announced yet, but she is from an allied clan and it was my father’s dying wish that I’d marry her.”
You turned your face away from him, not wanting him to see how his words had crushed even the last bit of hope you've ever had. You could feel tears stinging at the corners of your eyes and a painful lump forming in your throat. You got up from where you were sitting, kicking off the sand that stuck to your clothes and sighed silently in defeat.
“Do you love her?”, you asked with a shaky voice, waiting for his answer.
“I will.”, he replied after a short moment of hesitation, as if he was looking for the right words in order to not wound you more than he already had, oblivious to the fact that your heart was already broken beyond repair.
You nodded in acceptance before you started to walk away without looking back, feeling his pitying stare burn into the back of your head.
Weeks turned into months and months soon turned into years but he never saw you again since that day on the beach. You didn’t attend his wedding, that he had attempted to invite you to again via numerous letters, either. But every letter he sent to you or spontaneous visits to your home, stayed unanswered, until he ultimately decided to leave you alone to allow your broken heart to heal at its own pace.
It wasn’t until he found a letter addressed to him on his desk one day, that made reality suddenly crash down on him.
Dear Lord Kamisato,
I am truly sorry that I did neither reach out for a long time nor that I could deliver this message to you in person. Shortly after our talk at the beach back then I realized that I needed to change something about my life and decided to leave Inazuma for good. By the time you will receive this letter I am already long gone.
I had realized that I needed to stop chasing impossible dreams and start focusing on my own goals in life and I knew that wouldn’t have been possible, if my feelings for you kept being an obstacle. It felt like I was drowning in a deep ocean, trying to reach the surface in order to be able to breathe again, but no matter how hard I struggled, it felt like it kept moving further and further away from me. Thus I took the next ship to Liyue and started to build a new life there. You’ll be happy to hear that I even met a lovely man that I married not too long ago.
I’m sorry I could not attend your wedding and I often miss the days where we hung out to talk or played chess together. I hope that things have gone well on your end and that you’re happy and doing well where you’re at now.
With Love,
Your old friend
He gingerly put the letter back on the table in front of him, tracing your penmanship with his finger as if he intended to feel your presence through it under his fingertips for one last time. He harshly bit his lip and felt a single tear rolling down his cheek. He wondered why your words caused him such intense grief all of a sudden.
It wasn’t until his eyes landed on the photo of him and his wife on his wedding day that he began to realize and a tidal wave of regret surged over him.
Back on that day on the beach he told you he would get married, he told you he would love her and he told you he doesn’t love you the same way you loved him. So why was it that only now he realized that it was you, that it had always been you, who he had been in love with all along? He had been a coward and pushed you away. Now you are gone, building a family of your own, far away from him, while he is trapped in a loveless marriage with a woman he has nothing in common with.
He had lied to himself all these years, convincing himself that he was happy with the way things were now - but the cold hard truth was, that he could not be happy if it wasn’t with you.
KAEYA
“And I won, again!”, Kaeya snickered, throwing his playing cards on the table triumphantly before downing the rest of his wine in one sip. It had been a cheerful evening that you and him spent together at the Tavern after work and you’d feel great, if only it wasn’t for your crush on the Cavalry Captain, which increasingly pushed itself in the foreground on your mind.
“I give up, you beat me! Drinks are on me tonight”, you chuckled and lifted your hands up in defeat before going to order another round of drinks for you.
Kaeya watched as you walked over to the bar, conversing with the familiar bard who seemed to be quite fond of the wine as well and often kept hanging around the Tavern. He watched as the young bard threw a quick glance over his way before leaning in closer to you and whispering something in your ear that seemed to fluster you quite a bit, making you shake your head quickly.
“Got a love confession from the little bard over there, sweetheart?”, Kaeya teased as you arrived back at the table with the drinks.
“No, no, nothing like that. Nothing important.”, you reassured him, but deep down you hoped that what Kaeya had just asked was a small sign that he was interested in you as well.
As the evening drew to a close, Kaeya and you walked home together until you stood in front of your door. The moment you took the doorknob in your hand you suddenly turned around again with newfound courage, determined to spill your hearts content out to Kaeya.
“Alright, here we are. See you tomorrow! We can–”
“Kaeya, wait…”, you interrupted him and grabbed his hand before he could leave. “Remember when the bard told me something earlier?”
“Yeah, I do. Need any love advice from yours truly?”, Kaeya teased.
“Kaeya, please. This is not about him… but about something he told me, or rather about something he told me to do.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Tch, that’s one way to put it… Kaeya, listen, I think – no, I’ve realized you’re more to me than just a friend. I–I I have feelings for you.”
A long silence followed your confession. His expression remained unreadable until he eventually pulled his hand out of yours again, placing it over his stomach and starting to laugh. Your heart painfully clenched at the sound of his bellowing laughter echoing in your ears.
“Hahaha, sweetheart. I think you had a bit too much to drink tonight, hm?” He remarked and patted your cheek with an amused expression, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.
“I only drank grape juice, Kaeya!”, you exclaimed, slapping his hand away in frustration. “I meant what I said.”
“Oh.”, he paused, his amused expression replaced with one that essentially told you everything you needed to know. He did not feel the same way about you.
“You actually like me?”
“I do… quite ironic, huh? The first time I ever fall in love, it’s with the only person who doesn’t love me back.”, you directed your gaze at the ground, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you desperately tried to swallow them down.
“I-I guess I’ll leave you be… goodnight. See you tomorrow, maybe…” He turned around, quickly waving you goodbye and leaving you heartbroken.
In the following weeks he noticed that you were purposefully avoiding him but he couldn’t blame you for it. He tried to act as he normally would when he ran into you, in the hopes that things would go back to how they were before that night, but they never did. In fact the more he tried to act normal, the more he felt like you were pushing him away, until you ultimately came to his office, handing him your letter of resignation telling him that you couldn’t keep going as if nothing happened.
It wasn’t until he saw you walking around the Dawn Winery’s vineyard hand in hand with Diluc, when he was there for some official business on the Knights' behalf, that he felt something inside of him die. At first he shrugged it off as jealousy, until he wondered why he was jealous in the first place. He had told you he had no feelings for you, so why did he feel the way he did when he saw you so happy and in love with Diluc? Why was it only now that he realized that he was in love with you?
To shield himself, he had always been so used to lying and keeping his heart locked, even to the ones he loved, that he had become numb to its desires - running away from his own feelings, until it was too late.
In the end all he could do was ruin things and push people away. It’s what he was best at, it seems.
XIAO
Xiao and you had hung out at Wangshu Inn but as soon as you had gone home he found your backpack sitting on one of the chairs on the balcony. Surely you must’ve forgotten it.
He picked your backpack up before it slipped out of his grasp, spilling its contents on the floor. Among it was your diary, which flipped open and landed face down on the ground.
Xiao let out an annoyed sigh as he picked up the things scattered across the floor, until he picked up your diary and caught a glimpse of a page where you had stuck a picture of you and him together with some doodled hearts and a small note reading "One day I will tell him..." below it.
What did that have to mean?
As if prompted, out of the corner of his eyes he spotted how your familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the balcony again. You halted the minute you saw him stand there, backpack on the floor with all your things scattered around it and your diary in his hand - opened. You could feel panic well up inside of your chest and your heart dropped heavily.
“What are you doing there, Xiao?”, you asked with unease in your voice. Had he seen the picture with your notes?
“I wanted to bring you your backpack, you’ve forgotten it. I accidentally dropped it… what does this have to mean? What will you tell me one day?”
He turned around, stretching his arm out, showing you the opened book in his hand and your worst fears had become reality the moment you saw which page he had been looking at.
“Xiao, I–, archons why did you have to see this… I like you Xiao – a lot actually.”
He eyed you cautiously with an indecipherable expression in his eyes. Was it confusion, was it anger or maybe even lack of understanding? You couldn’t tell and the silence that followed your confession made your heart painfully contract in your chest.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why would you want to tell me this? What made you think I’d ever feel the same way? I’m not capable of feeling this way towards you, or anyone.”
“It’s not like I chose to.” Your voice was nothing but a mere whisper at this point and the lump in your throat became more painful by the minute. You took your last bit of strength to rip your diary out of his hands and quickly gathered your things together, that were still lying on the ground and stuffed them into your backpack. You flung it over your shoulder and left the adeptus without looking back once.
This was the last time Xiao talked to you. He convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone around anyway, he’d been alone for centuries already, he could do a couple more. That was until the Lantern Rite came around a year later.
He never had been the person to hang around big crowds and this year would be no different. He sat atop one of the buildings in the city, overlooking the harbor and watching the lanterns float into the night sky.
Suddenly his gaze found you in the large crowd at the pier and he watched you as you let your own lantern rise into the sky, but you weren’t alone. There was a man with you who kissed you tenderly as you stood there hand in hand, looking after your lantern with a big smile on your face.
Something inside of him stirred at the sight of you looking at another man with the same adoration you’ve had in your eyes for him back then. How often had you asked him if he had wanted to visit the Lantern Rite together with you as well and how often did you skip going because he refused to go?
The scene where you had left him on the balcony of Wangshu Inn, when he had found your diary, played in front of his inner eye again, evident hurt in your eyes, inflicted by his vicious words, when all you had ever shown and given to him was your time and love. He had yet again been too stubborn to realize what his heart wanted and fell back into old patterns of pushing anyone away who got too close to him. Maybe he had been scared of what it would mean if he had admitted he had felt the same for you – in fact, he still felt the same. But you no longer did.
He had pushed you away and you found happiness with someone else. Someone more deserving of your love and he had no one to blame but himself for that.
ALHAITHAM
The day you found out you and Alhaitham had been assigned to the same research trip for the Akademiya, you had felt your heart do a little jump for joy in your chest. Both of you had started studying together at the Haravatat and occasionally had been working on group projects.
The trip itself started well, you had been sent to research and gather information on some carvings found in one of the ruins of King Deshret in the desert. You had set up camp at the oasis nearby and working with him was going smoothly so far, as it always did.
On the second day you decided to venture deeper into the ruins together, to see if you'd find more inscriptions. As you took the lead, you suddenly felt one of the tiles below your feet sink down and before you could react you felt a strong arm snatch around your waist, pulling you to the side. Once you came to again you found yourself lying atop of Alhaitham, your back pressed against his chest and his arm still around your waist, in front of you a pile of rubble that had fallen down from the ceiling.
"Careful, there are traps here.", he rationally explained. Maybe a bit too rational considering you could have died. But you didn't give it too much thought, also because you were way too distracted by the pounding of your heart in your chest, and you knew it wasn't because of the triggered trap that it was beating so loudly.
"Right…", you huffed breathlessly, before slowly trying to wiggle out of his grasp again. Had the placement of his arm been intentional or did you interpret too much into it? As your thoughts spiraled off, you felt your cheeks heat up, looking down to the ground in an attempt to hide your flustered face from him.
"Are you hurt?"
"No. No, I'm fine. Thank you… for pulling me out of the way."
He looked at you with a stern expression, nodding in acknowledgement before brushing some sand off his clothes and returning to his studies wordlessly. He sat down on a huge stone in front of a mural, continuing to scribble notes in his notebook.
"Alhaitham?", you rasped with evident nervousness in your voice, gathering all your courage for what you were planning to say.
“Hm?”, he hummed, just briefly flicking his gaze up to you. You deeply inhaled beginning to feel your heartbeat pulsate in your temples.
"I think you're really great and–"
"Do you intend to ask me for help with your paper?"
"N-no, no that's not what I was going to say… uhm, I've been meaning to say that I really really like you.", you stammered, gesturing about wildly with your hands.
"I like you too, you're a great research partner and have great academic potential."
Ouch. Either he was completely oblivious or playing dumb, no matter the case, the lump in your throat became so big it started to hurt and at that moment you wanted nothing more than to cry and run away. Your confession had backfired even worse than anything you had imagined.
"I-I don't mean academically… or even as a friend. I like you… romantically, Alhaitham.", you coaxed out, using up all your strength in order to not start crying.
He looked up from his notes and put his pencil down, eyes now fully trained on you while furrowing his eyebrows.
"What made you think I have feelings for you?", he asked with an annoyed undertone in his voice. He slightly shook his head and devoted himself to his notes again.
He did not speak to you for the entire rest of trip afterwards, outside of the strictly necessary communication. Practically acting as if you didn't exist. Leaving you even more embarassed and heartbroken than you had already been from his original rejection.
Back at the Akademiya you immediately enrolled to change subjects and joined the Amurta for a short while, before deciding to quit your academic career entirely to become a Forest Ranger in Avidya Forest.
Alhaitham would lie if he had said he immediately noticed that you had quit, it had only occurred to him several weeks after you had been gone. It had gotten rather quiet recently and while he usually didn't mind being on his own and studying alone, he did miss your input on certain matters.
It wasn't until one day where he was tasked to bring an important document to Tighnari in Avidya Forest on the Akademiya's behalf, that he realized his grave mistake. It was then he saw you again for the first time. You stood on the gravel path in front of Tighnari's hut, both your hands interlocked with his, pressing a fleeting kiss on his lips. A smile brighter than the sun gracing your beautiful features before waving Tighnari goodbye and heading for the forest, together with a girl with green hair and purple eyes.
At that moment Alhaitham felt a wave of emotions wash over him, ones he, at first, couldn't quite place. You had never smiled at him like this. Was what he witnessed, what he could have had with you? He tried to ignore the painful knot in his stomach but no matter how often he told himself that he didn’t care what you were doing with your life now and who you were with, he had to admit that in reality he wanted nothing more than to turn back time to tell you he felt the same for you. It finally dawned on him that he had been blind about his feelings for you the entire time.
Why did he only realize it now? Only Archons knew.
He had learned the hard way that academic success wasn’t everything that was desirable in life. A realization that unfortunately came too late - you had already found happiness in someone else.
Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments and asks about Genshin or my fics are always appreciated <3
Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.
TAGLIST
@irethepotato @euphierosyne @x-zho @stygianoir @polalcee
#🍁 dust writes#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#ayato x reader#kaeya x reader#xiao x reader#alhaitham x reader#genshin angst#genshin hurt#genshin x female reader#genshin gn reader#genshin drabbles#genshin x you#kamisato ayato#kaeya alberich#tighnari#diluc ragnvindr#genshin scenarios#genshin imagines
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Scattered Screams (Part 12/12)
March 29, 2023
Notes - I only intended for this part to be maybe 30 pages at most, however, I wanted to cover some of the things that happen after the Games like the books do, so here we are at 52 pages and I am so proud of how it came out! Coming in at a grand total of 263 pages, this entire story is actually longer than my first novel. I might still write an epilogue since I have a few things I want to write out, but I'm not sure just yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final installment of Scattered Screams!
These violent delights have violent ends.
Sterility is the first thing that fills my senses. The smell of the labs back home after a deep cleaning. It’s the same, citrusy cleanliness that stings your nostrils with how strong the bleach is and refuses to leave the air no matter how many other scents you try to spray to fill the air. The stench is strong, but it brings me home just as much as the sound of keys clacking on a keyboard would. Maybe I fell asleep at my desk again, slumped over onto my keyboard, typing random letters every time my face brushes the keyboard. It wouldn’t be the first time. Though, most of the time, Riven would come in to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep, picking me up like I weigh no more than a small child, and carry me home to get some decent sleep. The only thing missing from this scenario is the soft whirring of my PC, the fans cooling it off despite being unused. As unlikely as it is, maybe I had remembered to turn it off before I fell asleep in a pile of snack crumbs.
It takes me a while to register that I’ve fallen asleep on my back, most likely having decided my desk wasn’t as comfortable as I make it out to be. However, as I attempt to reach a heavy hand up to swipe at my eyes, I find a blanket has been tucked around me, locking me in place. Weakly peeling my eyes open, I find myself staring up at an eggshell white ceiling - a far cry from the robin’s-egg blue ceiling that usually looms high above our lab. I follow the ceiling to where it meets the wall next to where I’ve fallen asleep and find a white circle with a small cross in the center of it, the word “Medical” written inside the cross. How did I end up in the hospital?
Glancing around, I find the head of the bed I’ve been tucked into is pressed against the wall and a series of medical equipment surrounds me - heart monitors, intravenous drips, and other technology I would only know if I took them apart piece by piece. What did I do to end up here? I would know if I got into another fight with the idiots at school or if I hurt myself at work. It wouldn’t be the first time for either, sadly. I’ve fought off many morons on behalf of my friends and family and I’ve accidentally wounded myself numerous times on the job, but I’ve never gotten hurt so badly that I needed this much medical attention. This was almost unthinkable.
Maybe I needed to be incapacitated. Perhaps I had gone so far off the deep end that one of the lazy-ass Peacekeepers had to knock me out. It would be a first, but it probably would have been deserved if that were the case. I never gave up a fight if it was necessary. Who knows, maybe it was just something stupid like me falling down the stairwell at work again. I kind of remember falling and hitting something hard, but I can’t recall what it was. Maybe I hit my head or something. That could explain why I couldn’t recall what happened.
If that is the case, I can’t wait to become the laughingstock of the building. The others on my team will probably tease me relentlessly for a few months while the other groups will give up their taunts after a warning or two from my mountainous protector, Riven. That overprotective sap will probably only take it easy on me until I’m completely healed before taking the teasing remarks to new levels, giving me some kind of nickname for whatever ridiculously idiotic thing I had done. He’d just cool like that, you know? I briefly wonder where he is, but I bet he’s either finding something to eat or waiting outside for my parents to arrive.
A thin curtain surrounds my bed, blocking me from the rest of the room, but from the one ear I can actually hear out of, I hear soft voices arguing not far from me. Maybe that’s where Riven is - arguing with the medical staff or telling off some people from work who dared to visit before my family could arrive. Before I get the chance to force my scratchy throat to make any noise, I hear someone ask, “Are you sure she’s alright? It’s been three days.”
I know that voice. It’s that warm, usually soft spoken voice that reads me stories until I’m drifting in and out of consciousness. I recall resting my head on a lap, reaching up to that comforting voice, and finding downy waves of coiled curls threaded between my fingers. Ringlets tangled around my fingers after days of being left untamed. Red and blue flowers on a dark shirt. A crooked smile, a faint scar on a lip, and a flurry of freckles. The faint smell of old books and something similar to chocolate, but softer and not nearly as sweet.
Memories flood back to me like a tsunami wave crashing against an unsuspecting beach and it suddenly occurs to me that Royce is here. How is that possible? He’s not supposed to be in District 3. Did we win the Hunger Games; is that how he’s here? Is this how I return home - escorted by my best friend and lover? Are the three of us victors now? Can we live in peace?
Then, another voice cracks through my fantasies and sends my hopes to the floor in a pile of cracked fragments, “As long as she wakes up before the week is up, she should be fine other than a probable concussion.” As much as I hate to admit it, I know that voice as well. It’s as clear as glass and sharp as a knife, slicing through my soul with every word. It’s Jade, the girl from District 1. We’re still in the arena.
My eyes burn as though I’ve stared at the sun for a while and a blurry burn stings to the surface as flashes of memory fill the gaps I have been missing. I recall seeing Royce running to get the parachute from our mentors, Riven holding me back, the two of us flying through the air, me hitting something hard, a cannon blasting, and a machete being thrown. I killed someone, I know I did, but my head hurts trying to think about it. I suppose that means it wasn’t Serena. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have felt all that bad if it had been her; she’s insane. But no… this was something more personal. It wouldn’t hurt this way if it had been some random tribute or someone who had intentionally come after us. This burns of betrayal.
I feel something wet and hot slide down from the corner of my eye as I remember a flash of pink - Lexi’s shorts. Anger overlaps my sinking dread and despair as I finally piece together what happened. Lexi attacked Riven. She attacked all of us. Maybe she set off the bomb that sent us flying. Even if she hadn’t and it was one of those Capitol-made traps, Lexi took full advantage of it and attacked us all. She betrayed our trust. I wonder if Riven is in a bed like I am, getting patched up from the fight. That could be the reason for the curtain surrounding my bed - a little blockade they set up so that I can’t see the bloody remnants of the attack. It’s a nice gesture, but I wish for nothing more than to see Riven and make sure that he’s alright. I need to see it for myself.
Tugging an arm free from the tightly wrapped blankets the others have trapped me in, I have to find the strength to push the blankets away from me. Cool air hits my skin and I nearly sigh in relief as it relieves me of the sweltering heat the blankets had encased me in. It takes me a while to sit up, pushing my weak form upright so that my legs dangle over the side of the raised bed, but once I manage it, I look around for my glasses. They aren’t far from me, having been set aside on a small rolling table that looks as though its only use is as a serving tray. A braided bracelet has been left there as well - thick strands of string weaving my initials and Riven’s together. The fraying strands have been crusted together with some reddish-brown fluid - dried blood, no doubt - but I have to wonder why they bothered to take it off him while they worked on his body. Perhaps Royce wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost while they cleaned Riven’s clothing. I could understand that.
Using the bed as a brace, I slowly eased myself onto the floor, standing on two wobbly, weakened legs. I try sliding myself forward a step, only to feel my knees tremble under the stress, so I take a deep breath and sit back down on the edge of the bed just as the curtain moves aside and Royce’s curly locks come into view. Our eyes meet and, for a fleeting moment, I wish for nothing more than to stare into those tawny pools for a few hours. The utter shock in his gaze makes me smile, a weak grin that cracks as the corners of my desert-like lips pull almost painfully upward. He inches closer, a hand outstretched toward me yet just out of reach, almost as though he’s afraid that I’ll keel right over if he so much as looks at me the wrong way.
A breath catches in his throat as he looks around at everything from the blankets I’ve cast aside to the rolling table I’ve taken my glasses from. Finally, Royce meets my gaze once again and he steps just a hair closer before breathing out, “Vivien?”
Although my voice is scratchy from remaining unused for who knows how long, I manage to croak out a soft, “Royce.”
He remains frozen in place as the curtain moves further aside, Erica and Jade filling the space. Tearing my gaze from Royce’s golden brown eyes, I look down at his still outstretched hand and raise a shaking hand to it, sliding my fingers between his. Looking back up, I find him still watching me in stunned wonder as Jade quickly leaves and returns with a cup of water. “Drink,” she orders, extending the cup to me. “You’ll need it if you plan on talking much.”
My free hand wraps around the cup and I take in what I can, the cool liquid flooding my body with a faint chill and relieving some of the dryness that clogs my throat. By the time the cup is drained dry, Royce has come out of his daze and has brought his free arm around me, holding me impossibly close. I let out a soft chuckle over his shoulder as he leans down to my height, “I could get used to this.”
Royce chuckles wetly, drops of something I assume are tears hitting my shoulder as I watch Erica smile from her spot nearby. “He hasn’t left your side since you’ve been unconscious,” she says.
My grip on Royce tightens ever so slightly before I pull away just enough to see him. I bring a hand up to his face, my thumb brushing across the flurry of freckles that dot his face like constellations in the night sky as he smiles. Sending him a small grin, I look around at the others and softly ask, “So, how is Riven holding up?”
Almost instantly, Erica’s eyes widen as she turns to Jade in something akin to surprise. Jade places a hand on Erica’s arm and shakes her head before turning to me and asking, “You mean you didn’t see what happened?”
I manage a small shrug and minutely shake my head before stating, “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why? What happened?”
Royce’s arm loops around my shoulders as he slots himself into the space on my left, bringing me close as he asks, “Do you remember anything from before waking up here?”
Meeting Royce’s gaze, I find an almost pleading look in his golden irises, urging me to recall anything of importance from the last few days. My gaze drifts to the wall, staring blankly ahead as though it will give me all the answers I’m looking for. It makes it easier to think, not having the distraction of Royce’s hopeful gaze, his constellation of freckles, and his gentle warmth that pulls me in and refuses to let go. “We were on one of the upper decks,” I recollect. “You spotted a sponsor gift and went after it. I tried to follow you, but Riven held me back. Then,” I snap my fingers, “just like that, I’m flying through the air.”
“There was an explosion,” Royce says, finally giving me the answer I had been searching for earlier. “I was by the pool and it sent me into the deep end with the gift.”
“Are you alright?” I ask.
Royce smiles, giving me a nod as he squeezes my hand and says, “I’m fine.”
Not giving us much time to think, Jade clears her throat, catching both of our attentions as she brings us back to the topic at hand, “Do you remember anything else?”
I take a deep breath and try to relive the rest of that moment, “I remember hearing a loud boom and trying to call out for Royce, but then I turned back to Riven and… and I saw something pink.”
“Pink?” Erica questions.
“Bright pink, almost electric,” I tell them with a nod. It takes a moment for me to fully realize just what happened, but once I do, I slowly turn my gaze to Erica and Jade as I mutter, “It was Lexi, wasn’t it? Those were her shorts, right?”
Jade gives a solemn nod as Erica ducks her head and admits, “Yeah. Royce says she was on top of Riven when he found you.”
“I thought you all were dead,” Royce claims softly. “I heard one cannon just as I was getting out of the pool, so I ran to find you guys, but just before I got to you, another cannon went off. All three of you were unconscious when I got there.”
With a soft hum and a nod of understanding, I say, “I think they both were alive when I last saw them. Lexi had a bloody knife and was sitting on top of Riven. I’m pretty sure that, if I hadn’t grabbed Riven’s machete and thrown it at her, we would’ve been killed.”
Erica sighs, crossing her arms as she shakes her head, “I still can’t believe she would go so far as to kill Riven with you two nearby, still obviously alive.”
Her words catch my attention and my gaze snaps to hers, “What do you mean? Riven’s still alive. I got Lexi off of him with that machete, but I don’t think it would have killed him unless she was still holding the knife close to him.”
Royce’s grasp on my hand tightens as Erica fumbles over her words, muttering out a sequence of nonsensical stutters before Jade cuts her off with a statement that gives no room for argument, “Riven was dead before you threw the machete.”
“No,” I argue adamantly. “I would have heard the-”
“That noise you heard when your hearing came back was his cannon,” Jade states firmly. “Like Royce just said, the first cannon went off as he was getting out of the pool and the other one came just as he got to you three. That second one had to have been Lexi’s if you threw the machete at her.”
Riven can’t be dead. All this talk of him sacrificing himself for me, for us, was just his way of showing his love for us. He didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t do something like that knowing that we need him around… That I need him around. Without him, we’re just kids in a floating deathtrap, waiting for someone to kill us off. Riven is too strong, too protective of us to just leave us alone in the arena, waiting for death to come. He wouldn’t let himself be killed. He’s too tough for that. Riven’s strength is something I’ve seen both in and out of training and I know that he’s practically indestructible. As Royce has said before, Riven is practically a walking tank; he couldn’t be taken out by some random girl with a knife. He’s a fighter.
This can’t be real. Erica and Jade have to be lying. Riven swore to us that he would be our protector in the arena and he’s the one with the plan to help get us out of here; we need him here. Is it possible that this could be a part of his plan? Did he fake his death and everyone else is just trying to convince me that it’s true so that it appears real for the cameras? That has to be it, right? They’re lying for the greater good. They have to be. Riven isn’t dead.
Turning to Royce, I find him already watching me. His shoulders shudder with every breath he shakily sucks in and despite his glossy, bloodshot eyes, no tears have fallen just yet. I search his expression for a sign - something, anything that will give me hope that the two girls before us are just straight up lying to our faces, but as Royce squeezes my hand and softly mutters, “I’m sorry,” I feel hope dissipating.
Dread settles in my stomach like a rock; heavy, oppressive, and immovable. If Royce is apologizing, the severity of the situation must have hit him hard. I see guilt in his eyes, telling me that his words are true, yet I refuse to believe them. “No,” I breathe. Royce apologizes once again and my voice only gets sharper as I snip, “No.” Turning to the girls in front of me, I scoff and shake my head, “No, you’re lying.”
“I wish we were,” Jade states, finding it impossible to meet my gaze.
Erica steps closer, reaching a hand out for mine as she softly apologizes, but I slap her hand away and push myself to my feet. “No, you’re fucking lying!” I exclaim as Royce rises next to me, gripping my arm to hold me steady. “Riven’s stronger than a fucking knife! He’s not dead.” Royce takes in a sharp breath and I meet his gaze as he looks ready to say something, but I cut him off, “Don’t you lie to me too, Royce. Tell me the truth. Where is he?”
Royce’s eyes flicker between mine as his mouth opens and closes like a freshly caught fish. Finally, he closes his mouth, looks away, swallows thickly, and takes in a deep breath before sighing it out and meeting my gaze once more, “I watched the hovercraft take him, Viv, I-”
Wrenching my hand from his grasp, I take a few stumbling steps away from the group, feeling their eyes on me as they each try to reach out for me. “Don’t!” I hiss as Erica reaches for my arm, making the trio in front of me freeze. With my untamed hair and fearful gaze, I must look like a wild animal to them; a scared, wild beast ready to run at the first sign of danger. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Her arm lowers as I take a few steps back, inching closer to the ladder I know is hidden in a storage closet. Royce seems to understand my intentions as his eyes widen and he takes a step closer to me, softly telling me, “Viv, please think about it. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. We’ve both lost a sibling before, why would I put you through that pain all over again if it wasn’t true?”
But the thing is, none of our siblings are truly dead. Sure, we lost Mick and Miles temporarily, but neither of them is dead now. We both know this, but I suppose everyone in the Capitol doesn’t. Why would he bring them up? Thoughts flood my head and I find myself jumping to every possible conclusion I can think of. As rough of a point as it would be, this could be the cold, hard slap of reality to drive home the idea that Riven is dead. However, I highly doubt Royce would be so cruel to someone, especially someone he cares about. Perhaps this is his way to signal to me that he doesn’t believe his own words, but the grave look in his eyes tells me otherwise.
The thought of his words being true hits me a lot harder than I wanted to let them as my eyes begin to blur with unshed tears. I look around the room for any sign that maybe, just maybe, Rivne had stayed in one of the other hospital beds at some point, but the only trace of him that I find is the old, stringy bracelet I made for him - his token. Staring blankly at the fraying, tattered trinket, I feel something hot and wet slip from my eye. I should have replaced Riven’s bracelet years ago. He deserved so much better than a shabby, shoddily-made string bracelet. Riven deserved the world. He didn’t deserve to die at eighteen years old on some dumb cruise ship for the Capitol’s entertainment. He deserved a long life, a family, and that stupid fucking horse I promised him before the Games.
Taking in a breath so sharp I worry about it stabbing through my lungs, I swipe a hand under my leaking eyes, tear my gaze from Riven’s bracelet, and meet Royce’s concern-filled, chocolate eyes. “Take me to him.”
“What?” he breathes. I repeat myself and Royce’s irises fill with hurt as he stammers, “I don’t- Viv, I-I can’t.”
“He’s not there anymore,” Erica softly says. “The hovercraft took him.”
Meeting her gaze, I give a quick nod and say, “I want to see that for myself.”
I choose to meet Royce’s gaze as Erica and Jade begin trying to talk me out of returning to the scene of the crime. He’s the only one I know I could rely on to get me where I want to go. The girls don’t know me as well as he does. Royce and I have both been in this situation before with Mick and Miles; he knows just as well as I do that I need to see proof that Riven is gone to believe for a moment that he could possibly be dead. He may have seen Riven’s body with his own eyes, but I need to see it for myself. I need proof that he’s not coming back, that one of the Capitol hovercrafts took him out of the arena.
A breath hitches in Royce’s throat as he seems to realize just how deadset I seem to be. Though I see the pained emotions flickering in his eyes, he doesn’t try to look away. Instead, Royce sucks in a deep breath and slowly shakes his head, cutting off the girls as he says, “Let’s do it.”
“What?” Jade questions, taken aback by his sudden statement.
For the first time in a while, Royce tears his gaze from mine and says, “Viv and I both lost siblings in last year’s Hunger Games. Neither one of us believed they were dead until we saw some kind of proof. Even if she doesn’t believe it now, she needs to see what happened in order to somewhat accept it.”
I give a nod of confirmation and look between Erica and Jade as they watch me, coming to a decision without saying a word. They must know that they can’t stop me and Royce if we’re set on something. Erica is the first to break, telling Jade, “Let’s just bring her up to where it happened.”
Jade sighs, “It looked worse than the fucking bloodbath up there, Erica, do you really think she’s ready for something like that after being out cold for three days?”
“And, in those three days, we had a shit ton of rain,” Erica claims. “If anything, it will have washed out some of the blood.”
“It might still be too much for her to handle,” Jade argues. “She’s still recovering from the attack and this could set her back mentally.”
Letting out a scoff, I sass, “She can hear you, you know.” Jade and Erica’s conversation comes to a halt as they turn back to me and I continue, “Besides, if it sets me back in any way, that puts you three at a better advantage of winning. You should be happy if it does.”
Royce is the first to react, an almost wounded expression filling his features as he steps closer, taking my hands in his as he gently presses, “How could you say something like that?”
I shrug, “It’s the truth.”
Allowing Royce to pull me forward into a hug, I allow my arms to come up to his back as he declares, “We’re in this together, Vivien. Wherever you go, I’ll be right with you every step of the way.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Royce.”
“You’re not asking; I’m telling you that is what’s going to happen,” he says, leaning back just enough to see me. Royce takes my face in his hands before softly muttering, “You jump, I jump, remember?”
I chuckle, fighting hard to keep my eyes from rolling as I shake my head, “That was just a joke because of the force field and-”
“And I meant it as a promise,” Royce interrupts firmly. I find nothing but honesty in his eyes, which gives me pause. Royce chuckles at me - most likely finding at least an ounce of humor in my stunned expression - and says, “You’re stuck with me now, Viv.”
Breaking the moment with a smile, Erica cuts in, “Jade and I promised we wouldn’t attack you guys before we entered the arena. We intend to keep that promise, right Jade?”
All Jade gives is a nod and a soft hum, but seeing as she’s spoken a lot more today than I had ever heard her speak before, I take that as seriously as I would a verbal confirmation. I accept their statements regardless of how much a part of me is screaming to run and leave them to their own devices. With only five people left in the arena, having them around feels like Royce and I are just dancing on the line between life and death, but they seem just as keen to keep to their promise as we are, so I try to force my fears down and relax at least a little. In the end, Royce and the girls usher me back to the hospital bed and convince me to at least wait until after lunch before going up to Deck 17.
In a fit of defiance, I make sure to wolf down what little is given to me, insisting that I feel fine despite my stomach clenching at the idea of movement after my plate is cleared. I try to ignore the looks of disappointment my behavior earns, focusing my worry on the trip we will have to make. Erica forces me to sit long enough for her to weave my hair into a single braid, insisting that it will keep it from getting in my way while Royce and Jade gather everything they think they’ll need for the trip. I walk around the medical center for a while until Jade decides that I appear strong enough to handle the trip and, once Erica and Jade decide we’re ready to go, Royce hands me my backpack before hauling his bag onto his shoulders and shoving a third into a cabinet.
My eyebrow raises and my head tilts to the side as I question, “What was that?”
“Riven’s backpack,” he replies, offering me a hand to hold. “I don’t want to leave it out and risk it being taken.”
My chest clenches at the thought of that truly belonging to Riven, but I take a deep breath and allow my hand to slip into Royce’s, determined to find out the truth before letting my emotions get the better of me. Instead of using the ladder to find our destination, Jade insists that we take the stairwell, letting Erica reassure me that the coast is clear. “We don’t have much to worry about on the upper decks,” she explains. “Jade and I make sure to clear them once a day.”
I nod as we head up to the next floor, but I can’t resist saying, “I’m surprised Serena hasn’t tried to take us all out while I’ve been out.”
Royce squeezes my hand with a small grin as we reach the landing of another deck, “We don’t have to worry much about her right now.”
Confusion fills me, but as Erica turns back to me with a chaotic gleam in her eyes and a brilliant smile, I allow her to explain before I can question them, “It will all make sense later, but just know, you missed one hell of a show!”
As Erica turns back around to continue her trek upstairs, my attention falls back to Royce and he shrugs, “I don’t know either. I was with you the entire time, so I have no clue what happened.”
Warmth spreads through my veins at the thought of Royce sitting by my side, keeping me company even though I wasn’t exactly talkative. “You stayed with me even though I was unconscious?”
“Of course, I did,” he claims as though it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. Royce brings our joined hands up and kisses the back of my hand before bringing them back between us as he says, “I promised you and Riven that I would stay with you no matter what and I meant that.”
The burn in my cheeks is hard to fight, but since nobody else is around to see it, I don’t bother trying to hide the crimson that colors my face as a ridiculously giddy smile splits my lips. The rest of our hike up the million stairs inside the ship is filled with idle chatter and small comments on things we all had found on our journeys through the ship. We make it to the seventeenth deck a lot slower than we would have if I hadn’t been as weak as I felt, but the climbing seems to have helped encourage my strength to come back at least a little. Jade takes the lead, as she seemingly does often, and we find our way through the short hallways to a large, already open door. Jade walks through the door and continues forward while Erica continues looking back in my direction, watching me as though I might run as soon as I step through the doorway even though Royce’s grasp on my hand would prevent any such endeavor.
My eyes burn as I step into the open air of Deck 17, the midday sun burning my retinas almost as badly as Mick’s dad burns breakfast before work. It takes a while for me to register everything - the location, the positioning as opposed to where we came from the other day, and the overall look of the place. Looking up, I search around for the wheelhouse, faintly recalling the sight of its charred remnants in my bits and pieces of hazy memories. I take a few steps away from where we’ve emerged, rounding a large pillar and keeping my eyes toward the skies, nearly stumbling over a fallen deck chair as I spot the wheelhouse looming high above the inner workings of the ship. We must have emerged around the same place the secret passageway led us out of the other day.
Looking around, I discover the deck in complete disarray. Chairs that once had been placed in neat rows have been tossed into each other and scattered over the deck in charred piles. Burn marks scorch the once-pristine wooden deck, a sign of an explosion in the area. I follow the marks and discover a large hatch not far from the door we’ve left that barely clings to its metal hinges. We had stood there, looking out over the deck, waiting to see what our mentors would send us. Turning my back to the hatch, I look out over the area, looking for any sign of where Riven and I had been thrown. Like before, I find the pool in the distance and large pillars bridging up to the next deck, but smudges of bloody streaks are the only indications that anything major had happened. To the right is where I suppose I ended up since the remnants of blood are minimal there. Pressing a tentative hand to the spot on the back of my head that slammed the pillar, I realize it’s no wonder how I was unconscious for so long after connecting with the obscenely large, chalk-colored pillar. The thing is massive and it’s honestly a miracle that I didn’t have any worse injuries.
To the left, I find something like a scene out of those horror novels the librarian back home keeps under lock and key, but I always find a way to sneak out. Blood streaks down one of the ivory pillars, the rain that supposedly blanketed the arena having kept the crimson fluid almost vibrant against the pale, cream-colored details of the cruise ship. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the blood looks fresh, but if the others claim that it has been three days already, I know that can’t be so. From where I stand, frozen in place, I can’t see the floor where the blood must pool, but I doubt it looks much better than the gory scene I can already make out. I can tell from the bloody pillar alone just how much blood was lost and I know Riven would have had slim chances of survival. There is no use trying to dispute facts when they’re right in front of you, blatant truth staring you down, waiting for you to question it. I take a hesitant step forward and, for a fleeting moment, a part of me begs for me to change my mind and go back inside, to turn away from the evidence before me and go back to the security of the medical center, but I force it down and smother its intentions, refusing to appear weak in the face of truth. I already told the others that I need to see the evidence of Riven’s death to prove their statements are true; if I turn back now, that makes me a coward. Riven didn’t die to save a coward.
Royce allows me to pull away from him, moving wordlessly past Erica and Jade as though my body is being controlled by someone else. My sneakers tap against the wooden floorboards as I inch closer to the scene, the new boards creaking as I step over a broken, lightly charred deck chair. My senses are overtaken by the scene long before I even lay eyes on it - the overbearing smell of blood, the sound of flies buzzing nearby and crows singing their songs of death overhead, the sight of thick, rich blood trailing from the milky-white pillar into a watered-down puddle on the practically untouched deck of the fairly new cruise ship. Logic strikes me long before I allow any emotions to and I realize just how much the poor Avoxes that will be tasked with cleaning this mess will have to scrub and bleach and scrape what had once been the lifeblood of some living, breathing human being from this spot.
Anguish hits me like a wave, pinning me somewhere between wrath and despair as my irises burn with unshed tears and realization dawns on me; this blood came from someone I know. Just a few days ago, this person was telling me shitty jokes and making me promises of safety. Riven wasn’t just some tribute the Capitol could mop up from their precious ship and scrub away from the history books. He was my family, my protector, and my sense of stability in a world of uncertainty. He was the same boy who would carry me home from a late-night work session or spend hours with me on our few days off, following me around to the different places I felt like exploring or making me listen to him ramble on about the dumbest things that interested him because he knew I was one of the few people who actually bothered to listen to him ramble. Now, Riven’s long-winded ramblings, comforting piggyback rides home, and love of exploration are gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. Riven is gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s dead.
Despite the glasses on my face, my vision blurs as steaming hot liquid burns trails down my cheeks, dripping off my chin onto my swimsuit top and the deck below me. Sharp, shuddering breaths wrack my body as the severity of the situation begins to sink in. My trembling lower lip catches between my teeth and I hold it there long enough for the taste of copper to graze my tongue. No matter how hard I try to appear unfazed, unbothered, and far stronger than I am, I must not be as convincing as I wish I could be as a pair of arms come around me and pull me close, securing me in the grasp of someone close to my height - someone who isn’t Riven.
Soft mutters of reassurance and gentle promises of protection fall on deaf ears as I stare over the person’s shoulder at the blood that once belonged to someone I loved and trusted with every fiber of my being. A choked sob comes from somewhere deep in my chest as my already weakened legs give out under me and the person holding me has to guide me to the floor so I don’t hurt myself any further, their grip on me only tightening as I find fistfuls of their shirt have gathered in my hands. I hate showing weakness of any kind, especially now that I’m surrounded by people who could easily kill me, but the tears won’t stop no matter how hard I try to force them down; it’s almost as useless as using duct tape to stop a dam.
Royce’s grip is tight, almost unbearably so, but it anchors me in place and I can’t find it in me to fight him off. After a while, his grip tightens slightly and he moves so that I can’t see where crimson meets alabaster, locking me in place so that I can’t turn in his arms. A choked sob escapes me as I cling to his shirt, “He’s gone.”
“I know,” he mutters near my ear, the heat of his breath and the sorrow in his voice sending a shiver down my back. “I know. I’m sorry, Viv. I’m so sorry.”
I want to dissolve into the floor with the remnants of blood still puddled on the deck behind me, joining Riven in whatever place exists after we die, but I know I can’t. I can’t allow Riven’s sacrifice to be in vain. Even though everything in me wants nothing more than to have one of the others kill me off and be done with this fucked up game of survival, Riven’s determination to get us out of the arena together drives to the surface the need to fight my way out. He knew of a way to get out - he had a plan - yet he never told us the details as he wanted our reactions to be genuine. Without him, how will we ever get out of the arena?
Every time I feel as though my eyes have burned through all of the pent-up tears I’ve stored for so long, the thought of Riven fills my mind, a new wave of emotion takes over, and I’m back to square one. Eventually, my sadness is replaced with rage at Lexi’s betrayal and my tears stop as I slowly ease my way out of Royce’s hold. My blurry gaze falls on the two girls who have found a place to sit amongst the fallen deck chairs and I have to clear my throat of the thick ball that has settled there before asking, “Did I kill her?”
They both nod, but Jade is the only one to meet my gaze. “You did her a favor,” she says matter-of-factly.
“How so?” I ask as Royce takes my hands in his.
Jade lets out a sigh, glancing away briefly before admitting, “Lexi was already going to die. She had some disease that would have killed her sooner or later.”
This statement seems to surprise not only me and Royce, but also Erica, whose focus snaps from the wooden floorboards to Jade’s nearly emotionless face. “Since when?” Erica scoffs.
“Long before the reaping,” Jade breathes with a small shake of her head. “She told me on the first day of training when I asked her if she wanted to be on our team.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Erica presses.
“She asked me not to tell anyone,” Jade says firmly. “The only reason Lexi even volunteered for the Games was that she wanted to go out on her own terms. I doubt this is entirely what she meant, but in the end, she got what she wanted, I suppose.”
Was Lexi truly willing to let herself be killed off in the arena? I didn’t think anyone would think that way. Maybe, if I had been in Lexi’s position, I would have thought the same way she had. I can’t imagine knowing you could die from something other than the Hunger Games at such a young age. In a way, her situation feels similar to Della’s back home. Della’s health isn’t exactly spectacular and every day is a battle for her, but she fights for every breath she takes with a smile on her face. I guess Lexi didn’t feel like being some inspirational fighter for whatever time she still had left.
While I still hold a grudge against Lexi for killing Riven and I doubt I’ll ever be able to let it go, I don’t have it in me to be angry. It won’t bring Riven back to life. A moment of silence passes between us and I decide that it was meant for Riven and Lexi and the other tributes who were killed off for the Capitol’s enjoyment. None of them deserved this regardless of how determined they may have been to win or how many people they hurt along the way. A hollow pit settles in my ribcage as the silence spreads thickly between us, creating an empty, heavy lump in my chest that refuses to leave. With Riven dead and his body out of the arena, the only person I have left in this shit hole is Royce. How are we supposed to make it out of here alive without Riven around?
Royce and I aren’t exactly fighters. If anything, we might be able to survive if we try to wait things out like Lotus tried to. With four out of the five remaining tributes in agreement that they won’t kill each other, Serena doesn’t stand much of a chance if she plans on turning us against each other or manipulating us the way she did Lotus. If Royce and I can continue using the passageways to hide out, chances are, we can wait her out. We can wait everyone out. In the end, we’ll have to figure out what to do when it comes down to just the two of us, but for now, I doubt either of us has thought that far in advance.
My mind races as the crisp ocean air spreads its icy wings over our skin and silence saturates the air. My watering eyes finally meet Royce and I find him watching me with reddened, bloodshot eyes. He looks about as bad as I feel. Reaching up, I slowly pry my glasses from my face and wipe them free of tears as Royce takes my face in his hands, swipes under my eyes with his thumbs, and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “We’ll make it out of here,” he mutters against my skin. “I promise we’ll get out of here somehow, Viv.”
I nod just enough for him to feel it and allow him to pull away, guiding me to my feet and holding me in a way that I won’t be able to look back at the gory scene we’ve left behind. Erica and Jade allow Royce to lead me away, the two of them following at a safe distance so that I don’t feel smothered by their presence. The numbness that has filled my veins makes it easier for me to take the stairs back to the medical center, keeping the pain from my mind until I find myself perched on that hospital gurney once more. I can’t recall most of the walk back, but there wasn’t much conversation anyhow, so I don’t feel so bad. Royce refuses to leave my side once we’re back in the safety of the medical suite, my right hand still clasped in his while his left hand absentmindedly strokes the hair at the top of my head and I lean against him. We find comfort in each other as Jade and Erica converse about food and things neither of us bother to care about.
Most of the rest of our day is spent working up my strength and trying to get me to eat more than my stomach can handle, but Royce never once leaves my side, something Erica tells me has been a constant since the incident. Neither Erica nor Jade seems to have any idea how the explosion could have happened, but we all have our guesses. They don’t think Lexi had the chance to construct any explosives with them present all the time, so they believe it had to have been a Capitol-made pod that was set to explode when someone stepped on a certain board or something. I believe differently and so does Royce. I believe Lexi could have easily asked her mentors for help as Riven had and maybe received some kind of explosive device in a parachute. Royce, on the other hand, admits to me that he is entirely unsure of how the explosion could have happened, stating that either of the scenarios we’ve laid before him could have potential, but he claims to be more focused on me and my wellbeing than what happened that day.
In the end, Jade and Erica decide to leave us alone for the night, telling Royce where to find them in case we need anything during the night and letting us know that they’ll meet us back in the medical center in the morning. Erica winks in my direction before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with Royce in the silence of the medical center. Royce pulls a plastic chair over in front of the bed I’ve slept on for the last few days, sinking into it with a sigh as I finally meet his gaze. There’s a gleam in his eyes that tells me that he has something he wants to say, but he doesn’t speak his mind as freely as I do, so we sit in silence for a while, staring each other down as though one glance away would kill the other person.
As per usual, I’m the first to say something, clearing my throat before awkwardly declaring, “This bed is so hard, my ass is going numb.”
A part of me hopes for a quick, Riven-esque quip like, “Oh, yeah? Well, I guess it matches your skull now,” or maybe he would poke himself a few times and turn to me with that stupid, lopsided smirk and say, “I don’t feel numb, Pip.” To my dismay, however, Riven’s quick remarks never come. Instead, Royce sends me a small grin and suggests, “We could always go back to that room we stayed in the other day. You slept really well there.”
I can feel my small smirk falter in mild disappointment, but his suggestion brings it back around fairly quickly as I lean closer to him and mutter, ”You think we could?”
Royce shrugs, a soft chuckle leaving him as he leans in and asks in return, “Who could stop us?”
Riven. Riven would. He would tell us to stay in the medical center for another day or until he felt as though I should be anywhere other than where the surplus of medical supplies are. He would argue with me on it until I either called him an ass or whined to him that it was hurting me and he’d buckle instantly. I try not to linger on that train of thought for long, forcing a smile onto my face and extending a hand out for Royce to take in his as I say, “I can’t think of anybody.”
Royce’s thumb brushes my knuckles as he smiles a beaming, brilliant smile that almost makes me forget the lingering pain that swims in my soul. He helps me to my feet and works on grabbing everything we’ve strewn about the medical center, stopping to grab Riven’s backpack from the cabinet before returning to me. I swing my backpack onto one shoulder as Royce grabs Riven’s bracelet from the rolling counter and tucks it into his pocket before lacing his fingers with mine once again. I allow him to guide me to the room we stayed in before, watching as his tangled curls bounce and bob with every movement he makes. Once we’re inside, Royce shoves a chair under the door handle for protection while I move to the living room and ditch our belongings in a coat closet.
He joins me once he feels as though he can’t secure the stateroom any more than he already has. For a moment, it feels like we’re simply waiting for Riven to join us, the two of us standing in the living room of the cabin in near silence. I glance past Royce to the room Riven had slept in before taking in a deep breath and sending Royce a smile, “If you don’t mind me being a totally lame roommate, I think I’m going to try getting some rest.”
A soft laugh leaves Royce as he shakes his head, “Go right ahead. I probably won’t be up for much longer either.”
“Alright,” I breathe, slowly making my way around Royce. “Well, um, goodnight, I guess.”
“Goodnight,” he says with a grin, watching as I back my way to the room I’ve chosen for the night. “Pleasant dreams.”
I hum gratefully, sending Royce a jerky nod as my back collides with the wall beside the open door. I turn to send a glare at the wallpaper before hesitantly chuckling back in Royce’s direction, “Sweet dreams.”
Royce’s smile only seems to have gotten brighter, but his tone remains the same as he bids me good night once more. I duck into the bedroom and quickly close the door behind me, pressing my spine to the cool wood before letting out a heavy sigh and allowing my head to thump dully against the door. That was so stupid. I swear, whenever I have some alone time with that boy, my brain melts into a useless pile of mush that sloshes around in my skull until I decide I need it back again. After a while of trying to get my mind back in order, I allow gravity to do what it was meant to, letting myself slide down the door until I feel the carpet under me. Distantly, I hear Royce moving around in the other room, but eventually, I hear him open the door across from mine, presumably disappearing into the confines of his room. I never hear the telltale click of the door closing, but after a while, I’m almost entirely sure he’s retired for the night.
Pushing myself from the floor, I stare at the bed across from me and sigh. I have no choice but to sleep in the same spot Riven had once claimed for himself. Pulling my glasses away makes it easier as my eyes blur my surroundings almost entirely. It takes me a while to shove aside the covers and slide between the sheets, but once I’m tangled in their web, I feel the emotions of the day come crashing over me like an icy wave. My nose tingles as salty water stings at my irises. I try desperately to cling to what little grasp I have over myself, but it proves futile as I take one of the pillows and use it to muffle the shuddering breaths I try to take.
I don’t want to believe that Riven is dead. I can almost refuse it. This is similar to what happened last year with Mick. I never saw him actually die, so I can’t prove that he’s dead. For all I know, the Capitol took him into one of their hovercrafts and brought him back to the Capitol until after the Games are over. Maybe once Royce dragged me inside, he got up and ran off to some other place in the ship and is trying to find us. I mean, Royce’s mentor, Kona, technically died in her arena and was found alive in the end. Maybe this is something like that. Maybe I have no reason to be upset and he’ll pop up out of nowhere when we least expect him to.
Taking a deep breath, I wipe my face dry and try to force myself to relax into the mattress, yet it proves far more difficult than I anticipated as I find myself staring blankly at the nightstand where I left my glasses. I wonder how the people back home are handling this. Della, Acer, and Mac are probably going through their own forms of grief. They’ve had a few more days to process it. I can only imagine their rage. It must have been similar to when we thought we lost Mick. I can still picture Mac, the quiet, soft-spoken, tech genius who could never hurt a soul, screaming in anguish at the loss of one of his best friends. Acer, the half-Capitol smartass who never knew when to keep his mouth shut, crying silently on the floor, staring up at the television with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then, I can see Della, the mild-mannered child of the wealthiest bakers in our district, disregarding all of her prim and proper upbringings to throw things around and take her rage at the Capitol out on anything within reach of her wheelchair.
We’ve been through this song and dance before. Last time, it took ages to get an answer. It took ages to find that Mick was alive and well. Could it be that Riven was already brought back to District 3? Could he be home with Mick, watching every movement we make with scrutiny? Even if he isn’t, I bet Mick has been watching. Through my glasses or not, I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything. Maybe my glasses are broken. I never tested them after waking up, so I don’t have any idea whether or not they are even functional.
Pushing myself onto my elbows, I reach across to the nightstand and take my glasses. They’re more than a little scratched after the explosion pulled them away from me and sent them clattering to the wooden deck somewhere I never found them, but the lenses themselves aren’t terribly ruined. The tiny rivets are still in place - the cameras presumably operational. I can’t try to talk with Mick right here, right now. If I did, the Capitol cameras that are no doubt in this very room, would see how we snuck such a valuable tool into this arena of chaos and death. We would all be under intense scrutiny; me, Royce, Riven, hell, maybe even our mentors, and the people back home! It would be unfair of me to put them through that. There is only one place in the arena that could allow me to speak freely with Mick if I still can, and I would have to sneak past Royce’s open bedroom door to get there. My attempts will just have to wait until morning.
With a sigh, I pull the glasses on just enough for me to make out the time on the clock and I finally realize just how late it’s gotten. I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon, however. The day has worn me out, but I can’t bring myself to be tired. Reading could help, but I have no idea where our little collection of books is, if we even have them anymore. Deciding I just can’t bring myself to lie awake, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling, I toss the blankets aside, nudge my glasses into their rightful place, and push myself from the bed. I half-heartedly throw the sheets and comforter back to where they’re supposed to be before making my way to the door, slowly twisting the handle until I feel the wooden door move away from the frame.
I try to be silent as I move into the hallway, the fairly new floorboards remaining noiseless as I pass over the rug. Royce’s room is dark and windowless, making it impossible for me to tell if he’s sleeping as soundly as I believe he is. Taking in a slow, deep breath, I turn toward the living room and begin making my way there, creeping along slowly so as to not wake Royce. Breaching the archway leading into the living room, I find that I am not alone. Softly humming a song to himself on the windowsill is none other than Royce. His finger traces a design on the window as he peers out at the inky sky and the sea below. Why is he out here as well?
So as to not scare him, I lower my voice to something just above a whisper and mutter, “I didn’t hear you come out here.”
Despite my efforts, Royce jumps slightly, his curls flaring around him as his head jerks in my direction. He calms upon seeing me, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he meets my gaze across the dimly lit room. With a small smile, Royce shrugs, glancing out the window briefly before turning back to me, “I couldn’t sleep knowing that you might need me.”
“Need you?” I echo.
“If you have nightmares or feel like jumping off the side of the ship, I want to be there to protect you,” Royce tells me. My first instinct is to be mad at how easily he insinuates that I’m willing to kill myself to be with Riven, but honestly, I can’t argue that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or two. The look in Royce’s eyes tells me that he didn’t want to say that, but we both know that I needed to hear it, so I nod in understanding. A flash of light outside the window brings me from my thoughts as Royce turns to glare at the window next to him. With a sigh, he admits, “The storm definitely didn’t help.”
Inching my way closer to Royce, I ask, “You don’t like the lightning?”
Royce’s tawny eyes return to mine for a moment before his gaze hits the floor and he solemnly shakes his head. “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”
Before I get the chance to so much as open my mouth to question him, a loud, grumbling roll of thunder surrounds the ship and I watch Royce flinch, a grimace taking hold of his expression. Instead of letting Royce struggle to explain his fears, I bring up one of my own before he gets the opportunity to speak, “I’m scared of ending up alone.”
Royce pauses, a curious gleam shining in his eyes as he asks, “What?”
“Blood, small spaces, and ending up alone,” I recite to Royce as I push myself into the windowsill across from him. Then, I take in a deep breath and, all at once, everything I’ve held in simply tumbles out as though his single word broke the dam within me, “That’s what I’m most afraid of. I think it started when Mick died last year. She was like a sister to me and I thought she would make it out, but then she died. Then, a few weeks later, my grandpa died. A while later, most of the people on my tech team left for someone else and our team of fourteen dropped to five. I thought it was because of me. That I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to want to stick around.”
Royce’s hand traps mine and he softly interrupts my rambling with, “I’m sure that wasn’t the case.”
“Maybe not,” I agree with a shrug, “but it felt like it was. Then, when the reaping happened, I thought I would be fine. Riven promised he would help me get as far in the Games as he could and I had hopes that we would make it out together. Now he’s gone as well and I’m scared of what comes next.”
“‘Next?’” Royce repeats. “What do you mean?”
I remain silent as I meet Royce’s gaze, his dark, rich eyes searching mine for an answer that he hasn’t come to on his own. Mustering a small smile, I take in a breath and mutter, “Now I have you. What happens when it comes down to just the two of us?”
Realization floods Royce and I watch as his expression flits between emotions faster than he probably registers them. With a shake of his head, he firmly declares, “I won’t hurt you.”
“Nor will I, you,” I say. “But the Capitol won’t take two victors, Royce.”
It takes Royce a while to say something, but when he does, his response is nowhere near what I thought he would say. “The way I see it, so far, we have two options.”
“We do?”
He nods, “Option one, we take the easy way out. We find some of those berries District Five got and go out on our terms. From what I’ve read, nightlock is quick and relatively painless.” Royce pauses, giving both of us the chance to think on it before shaking his head and saying, “I’m not exactly a fan of option one.”
I can’t help but hesitantly ask, “What’s option two?”
Intense brown eyes find mine and I can’t find the strength to look away as he says, “We fight.”
It would be a losing battle for me. I couldn’t fight Royce even if I wanted to. I care too much for him. Maybe I’m turning into Mick and Riven - an emotional, sentimental sap. “You’d win. I won’t fight you.”
“Not that kind of fighting, Viv,” Royce chuckles, a smile crossing his features. “I mean, think about it; there are a million ways we should've died before today and a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But I say we fight the Gamemakers for every second that we get to spend with each other. Whether they give us two minutes or two days…” he shakes his head, “I don't want to give that up.”
Royce’s words are filled with sincerity and I can tell he means every word. The impact hits me like a punch to the gut, but a smile splits my face as though I’ve felt nothing. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Royce echoes.
I nod, squeezing his hand, “We’re in this together, remember? You jump, I jump.”
A grin tugs at the corner of Royce’s lips as he repeats, “You jump, I jump.”
We sit for a while as rain pelts the window beside us, but I take one look at the clock on the television and sigh, “You should probably try to get some sleep.”
“I could say the same about you,” Royce states with a smirk. His expression turns mildly serious for a moment as he offers, “You know, you could always stay with me if you don’t want to be out here by yourself.”
Before I can stop myself, I allow a sliver of the teasing Riven instilled in me to shine through and I ask Royce in a mockingly serious tone, “Is this your way of asking me to sleep with you?”
I watch scarlet flood Royce’s cheeks, burning his face a brilliant shade of red as his eyes widen and he blurts out, “Not like that! I mean, technically, yes, you would be sleeping with me but you wouldn’t be sleeping with me. I-I just figured that-”
Reaching over, I press a finger against the tip of Royce’s nose and I watch as his eyes zero in on the intrusion before following it up to my face. “Calm down,” I gently order with a chuckle. “I was just fucking with you.”
“You were?”
“I was,” I tell him with a nod, removing my finger from his face before sliding down from the windowsill. Holding a hand out to Royce, I ask, “Are you coming or what?”
Royce lets out a chuckle and reaches for my hand, pushing himself from the windowsill as his fingers lace between mine. Thunder crackles outside the window as we depart, but the only sign that Royce is bothered by it is how his hold on my hand tightens by just a fraction. We return to the sides we had slept on a few nights before, but this time there is an unspoken acceptance of closeness that brings us together faster than gravity itself. As though we are magnets, pulled together by some unseen force, I lower my head to Royce’s shoulder and curl into him as his arm loops around me, securing me in place with no point of escape. Not that I’d particularly want to escape anyway…
The storm surrounding the ship sounds like nothing more than wind howling in the distance, something I can tell Royce finds to be a great relief. Tension in his frame dissipates as he brings a hand into my hair, brushing it away from my face as I tip my head to look at him. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “The cannon… I thought it was yours.”
“It wasn’t,” I offer in the hopes that he’ll take it as comforting.
“I know, but when I got to you and you were unresponsive, I…” a brief pause stills the air as Royce glances away and takes a sharp breath, “I was ready to join you.”
“You’re with me now,” I try to reassure. When Royce meets my gaze however, I allow a smirk to appear as I continue, “You’re here and I’m alive and there’s nothing you can do about it now. You’re stuck with me, Romeo.”
Finally, a laugh bubbles up from Royce and I don’t fight the beaming smile that begins to hurt once it’s there for a while. Royce shakes his head and turns to me with a matching smile before asking, “Does that make you Juliet?”
“I suppose so,” I shrug, “but only in this circumstance.”
Royce’s eyebrow lifts past his curls as he questions, “Why?”
“Because that’s my stylist’s name.”
We both attempt to look serious, but the ironic humor in the statement forces a laugh out of both of us. It takes us a while to finally calm back down and settle into the comfort of the mattress, but once we do, it doesn’t take us very long to fall asleep. By the time we get up and leave the bedroom to collect our things, the storm has turned to simple rain showers and the sun is struggling to breach past the thick, gray clouds. We return to the medical center hand in hand, talking through everything. Royce allows me to let out all that I remember from the day of the explosion while he adds in his own memories and we discuss our opinions on how things went down.
Jade and Erica are already there when we arrive and, almost immediately, I notice Erica wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at us - well, more me than Royce. Seemingly ignoring Erica’s silent insinuation, Jade rises from her seat and asks Royce if he would mind getting out the grill while she gets to work on preparing the food for breakfast. Reluctantly, I allow Royce to slip away, watching him follow Jade over to a counter on the far side of the room as I meet up with Erica. Her smile, while infectious, is one that I’d like nothing more than to rid her of, but she keeps the commentary to a minimum as she brings me to the bed I stayed in for three days and has me rest on it while she hooks me up to some of the machines around the bed.
Anytime I try to catch a glimpse at what she’s doing, Erica scoffs and shoves my face away with a chuckle, “Just chill and let me work.”
“What are you even doing?” I ask once she shoves me away again.
“Checking your vitals, you little shit,” she breathes in a laugh. “Now sit still so I can make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m breathing, aren’t I?” I ask sarcastically, glancing up at the machine and sending Erica a smirk before receiving yet another hand to the face that pushes me back into place.
“Keep that up and you won’t be for long,” Erica snarks in return.
Before I get the opportunity to fire back a remark of my own, I spot Royce whirling around toward us, a look of concern growing in his eyes. I wave him off with a smirk and he slowly nods, turning back toward the grill as he helps Jade cook. Once Erica decides that I am, in fact, fine for the most part, she pulls a plastic chair to the side of the bed and chooses to fill me in on everything that has happened in the last few days, which isn’t much of anything at all. She says that Serena has become something of a ghost, hiding out somewhere in the ship, keeping herself safe from any potential fighting matches that could break out if she nears any of us. Erica tells me that, while Royce was glued to my side the last three days, she and Jade would go out looking for Serena all hours of the day, just to fuck with her. They found her late the first night, holed up in some cafe on Deck 13, and chased her through the ship until eventually losing her on Deck 6. I stop Erica there, asking her what was down that far in the belly of the ship.
“Not much,” she shrugs. “I think it’s mostly storage, a few cabins, some stores, and a couple of rich people clubs. Why?”
“We never explored below Deck Eight,” Royce explains as Jade begins to plate up the food.
Jade hums as she places some meat onto a plate, softly admitting, “We explored the lower decks pretty early on. There isn’t much down there, but anything below Deck Seven is under the waterline, so we haven’t gone down there much.”
Erica’s adamant nod makes their statement easy to find truthful. “Have you guys gone very far?”
I shrug, “Mostly the upper decks. I stayed on Deck Nine the first night before joining the boys in the library, but since that’s been vandalized by Serena, I don’t think we’ll be returning there anytime soon.”
“That’s for sure,” Royce huffs. Erica watches us curiously, but she doesn’t get the chance to question what happened to the library as Royce’s eyes light up and he turns to me and cheerfully exclaims, “That reminds me; I found some things in Riven’s backpack that I figured you might want to see.”
“Oh, yeah?” I question, watching as Royce pushes himself from the bed and makes his way to a set of backpacks that have been abandoned against the wall opposite my bed. Wordlessly, Royce pulls Riven’s backpack from the pile and rifles through one of the pockets for something before standing, snatching something off of a nearby counter, and returning to me with the objects behind his back. Instead of handing me something, he places the items on the mattress behind his back and pulls Riven’s old bracelet from the pocket of his shorts, taking my hand in his and sliding the fraying strings around my wrist before securing it in place. “How did you get this out of his pocket?” I ask softly, examining the crusted blood that stains the old bracelet.
“Riven was already holding it,” Royce explains as Jade rolls over a table with our plates on it. “I had to shove Lexi off of him to check if he was breathing or anything, but when I did, I found it in his hand. I guess he was trying to make sure it got back to you. I figured I would help him.”
While I love the sentiment, I can’t help but feel as though he should have left the bracelet with Riven. While it would have done him no good and the tattered old bracelet probably would have been burned with the rest of his bloody clothes, the idea that a piece of me could have stayed with him until he got back home would have been nice. Despite my thoughts on the topic, the feeling of having something of Riven’s with me makes it feel as though he’s watching over me, protecting me without me knowing. Mustering a smile, I turn to Royce and say, “Thank you, Royce.”
He hums in acknowledgment before reaching behind his back and pulling a small stack of books into sight. “He kept some books in case we wanted to read, but there’s a bookmark in one of them, so I guess we aren’t the only ones who have been reading to pass the time.”
Looking over the books, I find the same books Riven had offered us the day we stayed in the Family Villa Suite - The Outsiders, Gone With The Wind, The Fault in Our Stars, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. A small piece of paper sticks out of the Harry Potter novel and I flip through the pages to where Riven left it - a page far toward the back of the thick, seven-hundred-and-something page-long book. The bookmark itself had once been a page of my little notepad, the little, torn frays of paper at the top a clear sign that Riven had torn the paper from the rings of the notepad. Riven had, at one point or another, used the paper to scrawl out a short message - ‘Page 699. Lines 19-23.’
Glancing up at Royce, I tell him, “Riven left a note.”
“Really?” he questions. I nod. “What does it say?”
“He wrote down a section on the page,” I say. “Page six-ninety-nine and lines nineteen to twenty-three.”
Royce takes the cover of the book and reads the title before shrugging, “I’ve never read that before.”
“Well, what’s the quote?” Erica asks.
Curiosity piques within me and I scan the bottom of the pages Riven had tucked the bookmark into. After finding the correct page, I use my finger to count down the paper until I reach the first line mentioned and begin reading aloud, “‘Does it hurt?’ The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. ‘Dying? Not at all,’ said Sirius. ‘Quicker and easier than falling asleep.’”
The room falls silent and, almost as though a switch had flipped, I feel three sets of eyes on me at once. Are they worried that I’ll fall apart and start crying? They shouldn’t be. I think I just about emptied my tear ducts yesterday. So, instead of breaking down into a teary puddle of a person, I allow a small smile to tug at my lips as I read over the lines again. I can almost feel the confusion radiating in the small space between us all, but the only one to act on it is Royce.
He reaches up and places a hand on my spine, gaining my attention as he asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I tell him and, for once, I don’t feel as though I’m lying through my teeth. “I think that, if Riven thought to leave this note, he must have had the feeling that this could have happened. Even if he didn’t and it was just something he liked while he was reading through the book, it’s still a nice notion.”
“You’re not upset about it?” Jade questions.
With a shake of my head, I explain, “Not really. I mean, what better quote to choose? It’s almost reassuring, in a way.”
Erica shrugs, “I guess so.”
Feeling as though I’ve said enough, I place the book aside and reach for the cutlery Jade has left with my food, stabbing it into the piece of meat she’s left for me. The others are a bit slower to follow suit, but eventually, we eat breakfast and go about our morning in relative peace. Once we set everything away, the girls insist on making sure I’m not weak after three days of being off my feet.
“We made sure to do some exercises while you were asleep to try to keep your leg muscles working,” Jade explains as she leads us to the stairs.
“Well, they don’t feel as though I’ve been out of commission for a few days,” I reply with a shrug, “so I guess it worked.”
“Good,” she hums, guiding us to the stairs leading down.
Erica hops along after Jade, taking the steps a couple at a time while humming to herself. Turning to Royce, I ask, “Where are we going?”
In return, he shrugs, “Not a clue. Maybe to find leftover supplies?”
Erica turns to us with a smile and says, “We’re going down to the atrium. We stashed some of our things there a few days ago, so we’re going to go grab them before we split off from you two.”
She turns back around and I turn to Royce, finding him already watching me. We share a shrug and continue with the journey. I had never been to the atrium, but I recall seeing on the map that it spans the 8th, 9th, and 10th Decks. Once we reach Deck 10, it becomes evident that whoever built this ship designed it so that all the Capitol’s finest would spend the majority of their time and money in the atrium. Looking down over the glass partition, I see many shops and small restaurants, a few seating areas, and a few little booths with signs above them that I can’t quite make out. While Erica and Jade take off down the stairs inside the atrium, Royce and I take the chance to explore.
The first store we come across has some… interestingly dressed mannequins, to say the least. And I can’t help but roll my eyes at the horrendously pink lighting shining down on the half-naked plastic people. “I just don’t know why people would even buy this stuff.”
He turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “Do you need me to explain it to you?”
“Oh, haha,” I laugh humorlessly. “No. I mean, I know why, but it just looks so… uncomfortable.”
A smirk tugs at his lips as he questions, “You mean, you don’t want to walk around all day with a tiny strip of fabric up your ass?”
I have to laugh, “Not particularly, no.”
“Aw, shucks,” Royce sighs sarcastically, snapping his fingers in defeat. “There go my plans for later.”
I shove him aside with a scoff and shake my head before continuing, heading further into the atrium as I look around at the other stores. There’s a boutique across the hall with some long, flowing gowns and fancy tuxedos in the windows, a shop with a tiny rat-dog-looking thing wearing a large, wide-brimmed hat as its mascot, and a large, glittering shop with words I can’t understand written on the sign above it.
“Le Bijoutier de l'Amour,” Royce reads aloud as I stare up at the sign in confusion.
“What does that mean?”
“The Jeweler of Love,” he replies, walking around me to the door of the shop. “It’s French.”
“How can you read that?” I ask as he pulls the door open and holds it for me.
“My mom was French,” Royce explains, watching as I pass him. “I learned to read it from her old books.”
We disappear into the store, discovering a large, white room lined with glass cases full of glittering gems set inside gold and silver jewelry. On the wall is a large sign asking “What’s your birthstone?” in large letters with a list of months. Scanning the list, I distractedly mutter, “I guess I’m a peridot.”
“What?” Royce asks from the other side of the room.
Pointing up at the sign, I say, “I guess they have this thing where you tell them what your birth month is and they give you a fancy rock based on it.”
I hear Royce hum and ask, “What am I? I was born in June.”
Two away from my birthstone is June and I find that Royce has not just one, but three colorful rocks designated to his birth month. “Whoever came up with this list must have been born in June too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Royce questions as he crosses the gap between up. “How come?”
“Because you get to choose between pearl, alexandrite, and moonstone,” I say, pointing up at the sign once again.
“So weird,” Royce breathes with a shake of his head.
I have to shrug, “Rich people will buy anything, I guess.”
Royce chuckles, but nods, “That’s for sure.”
Before we really get the chance to explore more, the door to the shop opens and Erica sighs, “There you two are!”
Royce and I share a look of confusion before I ask, “Were we missing or something?”
Jade appears, glancing around the room before settling her gaze on us. “We wanted to tell you we were leaving.”
Erica nods, sending us a small smile as she explains, “We’ll try to keep Serena at bay, but your best bet is to keep moving so she doesn’t find you.”
Royce glances my way before sighing, “Guess we’ll have to find a new place for the night, then.”
“That would probably be for the best,” Jade agrees before turning to leave. As she reaches the door, she turns back to us and says, “Good luck.”
“You too,” I offer with a small wave.
Royce nods, saying something similar before Jade leaves the jewelry store and the door closes behind her. Erica makes her way to us and hands us a plastic bag of supplies before following Jade out to the atrium. Royce and I don’t spend much more time in the jewelry store, determined to find a safe location to stay in for the rest of the day. The idea of going further into the ship is quickly written off as Royce recalls Jade and Erica telling us about them cornering Lexi on a lower deck. Instead, we make our way up a floor to the library we had called home for a while and tuck ourselves into the little hallway nobody else seems to have ever discovered. Setting up camp there seems to be one of the safest options we have available as the library was ransacked, the wheelhouse was burned, and we both fear that staying in one of the staterooms could put us in danger of being found. Our other choice was to hide out in the Cornucopia, but we rule it out fairly quickly as the idea of being cooked alive inside of a giant metal horn in the noonday sun isn’t exactly appealing to either of us.
Once we lay out our sleeping bags and eat something for lunch, Royce decides to fill me in on something I can tell has been bothering him, “My earbuds stopped working the day I fell in the pool.”
The snarky tech geek in me wants to scoff and tell him that it’s a no-brainer that they stopped working; water from the pool he fell into had probably ruined the entire operating system and shorted everything inside the case. However, I find myself in a similar state of hurt as I solemnly nod and say, “I think my glasses are broken too. I haven’t heard from Mick at all.”
Royce sighs, “The day of the explosion, I tried to get an answer from Miles and they wouldn’t work. I was asking him for help since I had no idea what to do to help, but I couldn’t make out a word he was saying and they just stopped working after a while. They wouldn’t charge or anything.”
“You said you fell into the pool, right?” He nods. “The chemicals in the water and the water itself probably ruined it.” I watch as Royce’s expression worsens, any hope of talking with his brothers ebbing away. Taking in a breath and mustering a smile, I suggest, “I could take a look at them if you want?”
“Do you think you could fix them?”
I shrug, “It’s worth a shot. I mean, I am from District Three.”
A small smile appears on Royce’s face as he softly chuckles under his breath. Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a small green container and places it into my awaiting palm. “They’re all yours, MacGyver.”
“MacGyver?”
Royce chuckles, “A guy back home who can fix anything under the hood of a car if he’s got enough duct tape.”
“I don’t know about duct tape,” I say as I look from the earbud case to Royce, “but if I think there’s any hope of fixing it, we can go looking in the stores for some replacement parts tomorrow morning.”
With an eager nod, Royce smiles and watches as I open the case, take the earbuds out, and begin looking for a way into the inner workings of the device. A thin line separates where the earbuds sit from the case itself and I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I ask Royce for a small knife. He scrambles through the three bags we’ve left around us and finds a small multitool among the mess of things Riven had collected in his bag. Slipping the only thin, non-serrated blade into the hairline crack, I drag it carefully along the seam, listening for almost inaudible pops as the barrier between the case and its mechanisms widens. Eventually, my efforts pay off and the earbuds’ resting place pulls away from the plastic case, leaving me staring at a fairly common battery, some wiring, and a logic board. Thankfully, the logic board appears to be just fine, so my only assumption would be that the battery had fried or something.
“This should be simple enough,” I murmur to myself. “If I can find a replacement battery, I should be able to get the case to charge them again.”
“Really?” Royce asks, making me jump slightly at how close he had leaned into my space. He chuckles, “Sorry.”
Taking in a breath, I nod slowly, “That solves that issue, but I haven’t taken a look inside the earbuds themselves.”
Royce quickly nods, leaning back so he could observe from a slight distance. Tracing his finger across his lips, he mimics closing them with a zipper before muttering, “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
I give him a short nod before taking in a breath to focus myself once again and picking up the two green earbuds. I’ll give Royce credit where it’s due, he’s kept good care of them externally, cleaning the earpieces far more than half of the people back home probably do. After I pop off the silicone caps, I use the sleeve of my swimsuit to ensure the speakers and microphone are dry. Then, I set them aside and examine the multitool, switching out the blade for a thin corkscrew. At the back of the earbuds are a pair of small, almost invisible buttons set inside a thin hole, so I use the pointed tip of the corkscrew to press into the holes, effectively popping the speakers and microphones out of their casings. There isn’t much to see inside the casing, so I replace what I’ve taken apart and set the earbuds aside on the floor before turning my focus back onto Royce who is already watching me expectantly.
“Well?” he begins softly. “Do you think you can save them?”
“Maybe,” I tell him. “Riven would be able to take them apart, figure out the issue, and fix it in a few minutes, but I’m not as skilled as he is. We’ll leave them out for the night in case there’s any residual moisture, but we might need to head to one of those clothing stores to see if they have any of those little packets in the shoes.”
Royce’s head tilts to the side a fraction as he asks, “Why?”
“They absorb moisture,” I explain. “We use something like them at work from time to time. If there’s any water still in the earbuds or the case - which I don’t see, but it’s still a possibility - those little silica packets will get rid of it.”
Royce thanks me and sends me a smile before asking, “What about your glasses? Can you fix them?”
“I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “I didn’t make them, Mick did.”
His eyebrow raises, “Why would she make you a pair of glasses that have little cameras and microphones?”
“She knew I would probably get reaped this year after everything that happened last year.”
With a nod, Royce sighs, “Before the reaping, Miles said he had a feeling one of us would get reaped too, but he thought it would be Bentley since he’s younger and I would volunteer in his place.”
“Riven volunteered for my little brother,” I mutter. “He was the only one I couldn’t protect and I couldn’t even return the favor by protecting Riven.”
Silence fills the air between us as Royce stares at me, a look on his face that I just can’t seem to read. Taking in a deep breath, he softly asks, “Do you really think Riven’s dead?” I meet his gaze and he continues, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of any potential cameras, but I don’t know if he is.”
Taking in a slow, deep breath, I slowly shake my head and say, “I don’t want to believe that he’s dead, but you said you checked to see if he was breathing and he wasn’t, and I-”
“I lied.”
Like a spear of ice to my chest, the faintest brush of betrayal strikes at my heart. “You what?”
Royce’s eyes glow like rivers of gold in the shine of my flashlight, his almost hesitant stare never leaving mine. “The cannons went off, I was panicking, and I checked on you first. You were breathing, so I knew the chances of Riven or Lexi being alive were slim. Lexi was obviously dead - she had a machete in the side of her neck - but I still checked on Riven so that, if he was still alive, I could get him to safety after I helped you and… and I think he might have still been breathing when I checked on him.”
“But his cannon went off?”
“It did.”
“Are you sure he was breathing?”
“I don’t know, but I swear I felt it.”
The honesty in Royce’s eyes makes me want to believe him, but at the same time, I haven’t seen Riven in days and, after seeing all of the blood where I know he had been, I don’t want to get my hopes up just for them to be torn down again. Maybe this is like what happened with Mick and Miles. Maybe he’s alive somewhere and we just don’t know it. Deciding to voice my concerns, I take in a deep breath and ask, “Do you think this is another thing like last year where the cannon went off, but the person wasn’t dead?”
“I’d like to think so,” Royce shrugs.
“So, where is he, then?” I press. “Do you think he’s somewhere on the ship?”
Royce is quick to shake his head, “I know he isn’t.”
“How?”
“I brought you inside and left you with some of our belongings so that I could go back and get Riven without smacking him in the face with one of our backpacks,” Royce explains. “When I got back there, he was gone. When I met up with Jade and Erica, they claimed they saw a hovercraft take two bodies away before disappearing.”
“Where were they in all of this?” I have to ask.
“The Cornucopia,” he says. “They wanted to enjoy the sunshine, so they went to the one place they could see almost everything from.”
I cross my arms over my chest as I lean back against the wall, my eyes flitting between spots as I try to think of what’s happened since then. “The Capitol took him out of the arena.” Royce nods. “So, they must know he was really alive, right?”
“Unless he’s really good at faking being dead.”
I shake my head. While Riven can put on a good act for the cameras, I doubt he’d be able to convince Capitol doctors that he miraculously came back to life once he was on the hovercraft. Either he really is dead or the people who found him alive brought him back to the Capitol. The Capitol, especially the Gamemakers, hate being told they were wrong about something. If Riven was alive when they got him out, who knows what could have happened to him since then? They could have killed him to save their reputation or brought him back to the Training Center to await questioning or who knows what else. Regardless, there’s one thing I know they wouldn’t have done: put Riven back into the arena. They wouldn’t want the rest of Panem to know they got another death wrong for the second year in a row.
For the rest of the afternoon, Royce takes to reading while I try to examine my glasses. It’s difficult, to say the least. Considering I need my glasses to see how to fix them, I end up giving up after almost two hours of trying to take them apart. Once he notices that I’ve given up working on my glasses, Royce moves closer to me and reads aloud in an attempt at keeping me as calm as possible. We eat something quick for dinner before crashing for the night and I wake up to Royce cooking breakfast as quietly as he can manage.
“What time is it?” I yawn.
He shrugs, “I don’t know, but I checked the library and it’s already bright out.”
“How long have you been up?”
“Maybe an hour or so.”
“You could have woken me up,” I sigh, pushing myself to sit up as I bring my glasses to my face.
Royce shakes his head, offering me a gentle smile, “You needed the rest.”
“I slept for three days, Royce, I think I’ve slept enough already.”
Royce hands me a plate of food when he feels it’s done and, once we’re done, we gather our things and prepare to scope out the stores for the supplies we need. We use the ladder to get down to the atrium and find ourselves in the back of a bar, surrounded by bottles of alcohol that neither of us can pronounce easily. Leaving the bar, we make our way to the open area of the atrium and find a map on the wall that tells us what stores are in the area. Other than the shops we checked out yesterday, most of the other outlets on Deck 10 are coffee shops or restaurants that offer foods we had never heard of prior to being on the ship. The floor below us, however, has two shops next to each other that might just have exactly what we’re looking for. Finding the stairs to the floor below us, Royce and I reach Deck 9 and first head for a small, doorless shop with the most simple name out of all the shops we’ve seen so far - Tech at Sea.
Finding a battery for Royce’s earbuds is easy enough once I climb over the counter and look at all of the supplies by the register. Once the battery is secured in its rightful place, I put the case back together, listening for the telltale clicks of it slotting back into place. Slipping the earbuds into their case, both Royce and I are relieved to watch it come to life, a small red light signaling that the earbuds inside the case are now charging for the first time in days. If the chest-high, marble countertop wasn’t between us, I’m almost positive that Royce would have tackled me in a hug, his proud, beaming smile telling me just how excited he is with our project. Once I’m back on the other side of the counter and Royce has pocketed his earbuds, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close, softly praising me and thanking me for my efforts before walking alongside me to the store next door - Perspective’s Eyewear.
My first order of business is finding the tools I need for the job, which is easy enough. The next stop on my mission to repair my glasses is a bit harder - finding a pair of glasses to use as a substitute while I work on mine. Royce makes the work easier, having me sit across from an eye chart and running me pairs of glasses to try out until I find the right one. In the end, I decide on a pair that reminds me of something my grandfather would wear and we make our way back to the security of the hidden passageway where we relax for lunch before I begin to work on the glasses.
Even with the replacement glasses, I find it difficult trying to see where the glasses could possibly split open. My head thumps dully against the wall as I stare up at the ceiling, groaning out, “This is such bullshit.”
“Language,” I hear faintly.
Turning to Royce with an incredulous look, I ask, “Did you seriously just ‘language’ me?”
Royce’s hands come up in surrender as he lightly shakes his head, “I didn’t say anything.”
“Well, someone just told me not to cuss and you’re the only one here, so…”
Royce’s eyes shine with obvious confusion before I spot a hint of disbelief in them. My own confusion melts away as I slowly turn back to my glasses, turning them toward me before softly asking, “Mickie, are you there?”
“Viv?” I hear faintly.
I know Mick’s voice anywhere. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you hear me?”
“I can hear-” her voice cuts out before coming back in a static haze, “-can’t see- I- explosion damaged the cam-”
Royce’s confusion comes through in his tone as he asks, “Did you understand that?”
With a nod, I chuckle, “I actually did. She said she can hear us, but can’t see us and that the explosion damaged the cameras.”
“Yeah, that,” Mick agrees. “Are- two safe?”
“We are,” I say, nodding even though I know she can’t see me. “We’re in that room behind the library.”
I can almost imagine Mick breathing a sigh of relief as she says, “Good.”
Without giving her the chance to say anything more, I ask, “Do you know what happened to Riven?”
However, instead of Mick’s voice coming through the glasses, Royce and I both jump at the sound of the Capitol’s infamous trumpets. Both of us roll our eyes and Royce dismisses the announcement with an indifferent sigh, “Let me guess, they want a feast to get us to kill each other off?”
As we both expected, Claudius Templesmith’s voice comes out of thin air, announcing just that, “Commencing at noon, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia.”
“Good thing we aren’t hungry,” I scoff, turning my attention back toward the glasses in an attempt to ignore the rest of his announcement.
However, Mr. Templesmith has other ideas. “Now, hold on. Some of you may already be thinking of declining my invitation. However, this is no ordinary feast. This is an offer of immunity.”
“Immunity?” Royce asks softly. “What does that mean?”
I shrug and we attempt to pay more attention as Claudius continues, “There is one place on this ship that offers complete protection from intruders. This room requires a key that is only obtainable at this feast. The one who takes the key to The Haven will have access to amenities that will only ever be used by the victor themself. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it will not be happening again.”
Royce and I are safe in this little hideout where the cameras aren’t up our asses for every second of the day; we don’t need the safety of some random room. I doubt Erica and Jade need it either; they have plenty of supplies and I don’t doubt they can hide out in the ship perfectly fine. That leaves one person on this ship who could take Claudius Templesmith up on his offer.
Royce shakes his head, turning to me with a sigh, “We don’t exactly need it, do we?”
“No,” I reply, “but I can think of one person who might want it.”
Almost instantly, it seems as though Royce has come to the same conclusion I have. “Do you really think Serena is dumb enough to go after something so obvious? It feels like a trap.”
With a nod, I say, “I don’t doubt that it is, but if she feels like it might keep her protected from Jade and Erica long enough to gain some strength or get some food in her, she might just go after it.”
“Do you think the girls will have that figured out as well?”
“Most likely.”
Royce takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“I guess so.” Turning back to my glasses, I ask, “Did you hear that, Mick?”
In return, all I get is silence. I try a few more times to get a response out of Mick before deciding there must be something wrong with the glasses and putting them back on with a sigh. Royce and I read for a few hours before having dinner and turning in for the night. The morning starts off with our new routine of eating breakfast and picking a new place to hide out for the day, but as we’re climbing the stairs to Deck 13 where we plan on hiding out, we hear a faint scream echo through the stairwell. Figuring the others may be somewhere nearby, Royce and I make our journey as quiet as possible, but as we reach our destined deck, the telltale sounds of fighting only grow louder. Something solid hits the floor above us just a few steps from the landing we’ve reached, followed by a grunt we both hear loud and clear, telling both of us that the fight is just a deck away.
Turning to Royce, I wonder if he’s questioning things like I am. Why are the others here instead of up by the Cornucopia? Is the Capitol getting the bloodbath they so desired? Once there is a clear victor of the trio’s battle, will the winner come looking for us? My grip on my crossbow tightens as the familiar blast of the cannon thunders through the area, followed by a heavy thump, a scream of agony, and yet another cannon, signaling the battle is over. Deciding we shouldn’t tempt fate, Royce and I move as silently as possible away from the stairwell. However, before we get too far, the sound of crying fills the otherwise silent air.
With two of the three other tributes dead, who out of them would be the one to cry? Jade doesn’t seem like the type to cry and I highly doubt Serena would unless she was injured or incredibly weak, but I could imagine Erica being the type to cry about something like that. Turning to Royce, I watch his expression shift and as he mouths Erica’s name curiously, I realize he must have come to the same conclusion. Steadying his grip on his bow just to be safe, Royce nods toward the stairs and I nod in return, following close behind him with my crossbow in hand. We tentatively head back to the stairwell and climb the ivory steps to the next floor where, just a few feet away, I spot Erica’s sapphire hair glowing in the sunlight that pours in from a nearby window as she leans over Jade’s motionless form. Nearby, Serena’s red hair nearly blends in with the crimson surrounding her head, her limp, lifeless body slumped against the normally pristine, white floor. The gory puddle surrounding Serena makes her look even paler than she already was, but it is the long blade emerging from her forehead that tells me that the attack was personal.
My best guess is that Erica killed her for killing Jade, but I have no proof to say whether that was what happened. Regardless, Serena died painfully and whoever killed her made sure of that. Royce stalls my train of thought by reaching back to me and gesturing for me to stay calm. I take in a slow breath as he steps around Serena and softly calls out, “Erica?”
The blue-tipped blonde slowly turns to us, her eyes shining with tears that have streamed down her face like a waterfall. She sends us a small smile and says, “Well, if it isn’t the victors of this year’s Games.”
“What happened?” I ask her.
“Jade and I got the jump on Serena since we found out where she was hiding out,” Erica explains, looking back down at Jade and moving the hair from her deceased friend’s face. “We fought for a while before Serena threw a dagger at Jade.”
Royce spares a glance at Serena before asking, “What about Serena?”
“I think it should be obvious,” Erica chuckles, leveling her gaze on Royce as she smiles. “I tackled her to the floor, grabbed my butcher knife, and went to town on her face.” Before either of us can say a word, Erica adds, “She killed my girl and any kindness I may have shown her died when Jade did.”
The room is silent for a while as Royce and I absorb the information we’ve been given, but Royce breaks it with a soft, “Are you alright?”
Erica leans to the side just enough for the black hilt of a knife to catch the light, the blade of it buried inside her abdomen. With an airy giggle, she states, “I’m already dying, if that’s what you want to know.”
“We could patch it up if you-”
“No,” Erica says with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t really see the point in trying. I wouldn’t be able to make the trip back to the medical center and, even if I did, I might still die because, as you told Jade and I before, Royce, neither of you has the best medical knowledge. I think I might as well let death come while I’m with Jade.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
Erica nods, giving us a smile as she says, “I have no strength to stand, let alone fight. Anyway, like your friend said with the book, death should be like falling asleep. Once I take the knife out, I’ll lay down beside Jade and let whatever happens, happen. You two can go spend some time together before the Games end. Enjoy each other’s company and decide what happens next.”
“What about-”
Once again, Royce gets cut off as Erica waves us off with a hand. “I’ll be fine here. Just go have fun together before the Capitol decides to off one of you. I’ll see you again someday.”
Deciding arguing with Erica isn’t going to get us anywhere, I reach for Royce’s hand and lightly tug him closer to me. At first, he appears confused, but eventually, Royce decides something similar and he takes a deep breath before nodding. Turning back to Erica, I smile and tell her, “See you later.”
Erica nods deeply, holding her head down for a moment before looking back up at us with a small grin, “Good luck, you two.”
Royce and I make our way back to the stairs, waving a final goodbye to Erica before making our way back down a floor. Knowing we no longer have to worry about the other tributes trying to kill us, Royce and I sit on the bottom step and try to think of what to do next. Now that we don’t have to hide or run, we don’t know what to do. Neither of us feels up to eating, but we also don’t know what else to do while we wait for Erica’s inevitable death. After a while of simply sitting around, we head into The Galaxy Pavillion and gather the remaining berries from the laser tag arena before Royce suggests we go back to the library and try to relax. I follow him away from Deck 13 and we reach the library fairly easily. Once we climb past the shattered remnants of the door and drag the piano away from it, Royce and I get to work on taking the broken door out of the frame. The cleanup doesn’t end there and, by the time Erica’s cannon rattles through the arena, the library is almost back to its former glory and the sun is sinking past the ocean’s horizon. The cleaning distracts us from our situation enough that we can bring ourselves to eat at least a little, but it doesn’t make things feel any easier.
Royce allows me to sleep while he stays awake for a while, keeping an eye out for any potential mutts the Capitol could send to kill us off. I stay awake until morning for my shift, but the Capitol doesn’t send so much as a butterfly our way, which is unsettling, to say the least. I make breakfast for the two of us while Royce reads the last of Romeo and Juliet aloud. The calm of the morning has a tense, unsettling serenity to it that I surmise we both feel as Royce looks just as rigid as I feel.
When Royce finishes eating, he sets aside his plate and softly asks, “How are we going to do this?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, setting my plate on top of his.
“This,” Royce replies, gesturing between the two of us.
“Like you said,” I begin, taking in a deep breath, “we’re going to fight for every moment we spend together. If they want a victor, they’ll either have to take both of us or neither of us. We can go get some of those berries and take ourselves out together or they can get us out of the arena and we can win together. Either way, I won’t fight you.”
“Neither will I,” Royce states.
I nod and, as silence takes over, I allow myself to think about what we could do to force the Gamemakers to let us out. At first, I wonder if finding a camera to talk to would help, but without Mick’s guidance, the likelihood of finding one of the Capitol’s bajillion hidden cameras feels impossible. My next thought is, of course, taking the berries and going out on a high note like Volt and Elektra, but at the same time, I don’t like the idea of dying before I’ve even gotten the chance to live. Then, an idea comes that I feel could get us on the Capitol’s best side. If the Capitol citizens didn’t already love our little love story, we could make them want nothing more than for both of us to make it out alive. We could spend the whole day together, doing all the things a couple would; go on dates, dress up all fancy, buy rings, and, once the day is done, we go to one of the restaurants, blend up some berries and some other stuff, and act as though we’re just like Romeo and Juliet - dying together for the sake of love. Their love for us as a couple could drive them to beg the president to keep us alive. We could be the first pair ever to win the Hunger Games together.
Glancing over at Royce, I find he’s already brought out a book to read and settled down with it. Taking a deep breath, I softly say, “I have an idea.”
Royce lowers the book to his lap and curiously meets my gaze, “I’m listening.”
“Why don’t we spend the day doing everything we could possibly want?” I suggest. “We could go to the atrium and take some of those fancy clothes we’ll never get to try on otherwise, we could go to all the stores that don’t exist back home and just go wild, and, when we decide we’ve had enough fun, we go to one of the restaurants, have some dinner, and we’ll slip some of those berries into our drinks and leave this arena together like we wanted to all along.��
A look of anxiety wells in Royce’s eyes as he mutters, “Are you sure?”
“It was just a suggestion,” I say with a shrug. “As long as I’m with you, what we do doesn’t really matter.”
Silent contemplation fills the space between us and I watch as Royce’s eyes flicker between mine, searching for an answer that we both know he has to come to on his own terms. Ultimately, his eyes slide shut, he sucks in a breath, grins, and looks my way before replying, “What better last day could I ask for?”
Our moment of peace is disrupted by a loud screech and a sharp voice that I faintly recall as Claudius Templesmith argues, “That isn’t allowed. One of you must become the victor.”
“Says who?!” I snap back as I push myself to my feet. “We’re the ones trapped in here. We’re the ones the Capitol decided to kill off for their enjoyment. We never wanted to be your little lambs for slaughter. All we want is to be together for as long as we can and you’re trying to take that from us too?”
“Yeah,” Royce agrees, rising to stand beside me and taking my hand in his. “We’ve made it this far in the arena, you can’t tell us that we can’t go out on our own terms.”
“There can only be one victor,” Claudius states.
With a scoff, Royce grabs his bag and pulls the small handful of berries from the front pouch, pouring some from his hand into mine before holding his handful up for the cameras to see. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have the high ground,” he declares. “We can do this together at any time and be dead before your hovercraft can save us.”
“We would be dead in a minute,” I agree. “So, either you give us our day or we go out together right here, right now.”
“But the rules state-”
“The rules were made years ago by a psychopath who decided that killing children was necessary,” Royce states.
“Besides, the people are sick and tired of these Games,” I add. “They aren’t entertaining the Capitol anymore and everyone knows it - even President Harmon! He could easily tell you to stop the Hunger Games at any time and you know it.”
“Now,” Royce begins, squeezing my hand, “Viv and I are going to go spend our last day together. If you decide to call off the Hunger Games and let us win instead of letting us die together, let us know.”
Without another word, Royce dumps his berries into his backpack and hands me my bag so I can deposit mine in it before he takes me by the hand and guides me to the bookcase passageway. Once the door is closed, Royce presses his back to it and turns to me with wide eyes. I smile at him and exclaim, “That was so badass!”
“Did I really just do that?” he asks in a whisper.
“You did.”
“They’re going to kill us.”
With a shrug, I sigh, “I doubt it. If anything, the others will be rallying for us to get out.”
Royce sucks in a breath and asks, “You said before that your stylist is the president’s daughter, right?” I nod. “Does she like you?” I nod once more. “Do you think she can convince her dad to let us out?”
“I think so,” I confirm. “I think she’s been trying this whole time, but, with any luck, this might force his hand a little.”
Royce nods and we stop for a short time to secure our berries in little pouches that we attach to our belts for easy access. Once we’re done, we head to the atrium and head from the bar we land in to the boutique we came across what feels like a week ago. We look around at all of the ridiculously expensive outfits before deciding to pick something out for each other to wear. Royce shows me what racks have things that will fit him and I show him mine before we leave each other alone, chattering across the open floor to each other about things that we both enjoy before leaving something in the dressing rooms for each other.
The dress I find waiting for me in room number 1 is a long, sapphire dress that drags on the floor in the back, yet stays just above the floor in the front. I assume this was made to be worn with those uncomfortable high-heeled shoes that are the Capitol standard, but Royce has left me a simple pair of golden shoes that have maybe two inches of height in the heel and a thick strap around the ankle to keep me from breaking any bones. I don’t try to fight the smile that creeps onto my face as I examine myself in the mirror. I pull my hair down from the loosely woven braid Erica made for me and draw my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head, hoping it will make my hair look a little less greasy before shoving my clothes into my backpack. I push the curtain aside and make my way to the front room with my bag, finding Royce standing near the wall, adjusting his clothes in a mirror.
His black and blue ensemble matches mine, surprisingly, but he doesn’t notice me watching him until he turns around with a smile and approaches me, pressing a kiss just to the side of my mouth. “You look incredible.”
“As do you,” I tell him, dropping my backpack to the floor alongside his and bringing my arms around his shoulders.
“Were you watching me pick out your outfit?” he asks, his arms circling my waist.
“I should be the one asking you that,” I tell him with a scoff. “In case you’ve forgotten, I put your outfit aside first. That means you copied me, not the other way around.”
Royce contemplates the suggestion briefly before shaking his head, “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Liar.”
“You can’t prove it.”
“You suck.”
Royce shrugs, brushing off my statement easily, “Eh, you love me.”
Tapping the tip of his nose with my finger, I tell him, “That doesn’t mean you don’t suck.”
With a chuckle, he nods, “Fair enough.”
“Are you ready to go have some fun?” I ask.
“What do you have planned?”
Instead of telling him my plans, I simply grab our bags, hand him his, take his free hand in mine, and drag him from the boutique to the hallway where we look around and decide to stop in a little gaming store a deck below us. We spend a while eating something small for lunch and playing games there before the Gamemakers decide to cut the power to them, presumably in an attempt to push us out of the area and into a fight. With heavy sighs, we decide to venture into the hallway and explore around a bit. We visit a few more shops before going back up to the jewelry store and picking out matching rings for each other. It takes us a while to find the birthstone rings we want, but in the end, he takes my peridot and I have his moonstone. Once we feel ready enough, we head up to the eighteenth deck where we find a restaurant and begin making something for dinner in the expansive kitchen we find there. After the food is done, Royce takes the berries from both of the pouches we had made and crushes some of them up before adding them to the glasses of some expensive wine we found in a cooler.
Together, we take the food out to the outside dining area and sit across from each other, eating our dinner together and talking about all that we’ll miss. Our families and friends come into the conversation as we drag out the time we have together until the sun begins to set and our time for waiting is over. Royce gives me a reassuring smile and lifts his glass to which I follow suit, reaching across the table to take his other hand in mine as our glasses tap against each other in the center of the table. Bringing our glasses back to our respective sides of the table, Royce asks, “On the count of three?”
“The count of three,” I agree with a nod.
Royce gives my hand a final squeeze as a signal, as a tragic goodbye, and we begin to count. “One.” Maybe we were wrong to challenge the Capitol, President Harmon, and the Gamemakers. “Two.” Maybe they don’t care anymore if they get their victor. “Three!” It’s too late to change our minds. We lift our glasses to our mouths and meet gazes so our last glimpse of life will be of each other.
The thin, grape-like liquid has just passed my lips as the trumpets begin to blare and the frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above the music, “Stop! Stop!” His voice calms just enough to not sound absolutely terrified as he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Sixty-third Hunger Games - Vivien O’Brian and Royce Murphy! I give you the tributes of Districts Three and Six!”
I’m quick to spew the nightlock-laced wine back into my glass and I watch Royce follow suit. We both begin wiping any residue from our tongues with napkins before taking a bottle of water from our bags and flushing it all out as much as we can. Once we’re satisfied, we practically collapse into each other’s arms. Royce pulls back enough to cup my face in his hands and pulls me in for a kiss that I never would have anticipated before. I press our foreheads together and he says something to me, but I can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that the Gamemakers are playing over the ship’s speakers.
The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop down to take us away from the arena, but we have no intention of releasing each other, so we manage to cling to each other and the ladder as it freezes us in place and drags us into the flying machine Royce’s district has had a hand in making. Neither of us is injured or in need of any medical assistance, but we are separated as two attendants whisk us off to different rooms to rid us of any remnants of nightlock that could still be lingering on our teeth. After that, I’m handed an icy cold glass that is filled with orange juice. I don’t entirely trust the Capitol to not poison us on the way back to the Capitol, but as I peer through the tiny window in my room I realize we’re nearing land already. We must not have been far from land. I try not to gasp as a large, red bridge passes underneath us, a faded memoir of a time long gone. I’ve seen the bridge before in old history books. I think it was something in an old state by the ocean - I know it started with a C, but that’s all I can recall.
Our hovercraft rises higher into the air and the windows darken, leaving me clueless as to where we are or how far we have to go, but the ride doesn’t last nearly as long as it felt it took on the way to the arena. One of the attendants enters and tells me that I am to disembark first as my district number is before Royce’s and I don’t see him at all as they lead me through the craft and onto the rooftop. My legs wobble as I step down from the hovercraft, but a glittering, golden head of hair is there to catch me as I stumble onto the roof. Halo’s voice is kind and oddly welcoming as she mutters, “You did amazing, Vivien.”
The stress of everything takes over once I’m guided back inside and I gracelessly meet the floor of the elevator as it brings us to the floor I knew so well. When I wake, I feel as though I cannot move. Blankets have been tucked under my arms and the ceiling glows a soft yellow, but the sheets are cold and it only takes me a few minutes to realize that Royce is not beside me. My glasses are nowhere to be found, but one look around the room makes me relax a little. I know where I am - it’s my room from before the Games started. I lift a hand to move the covers away and find that I’ve been changed out of my dress from the arena and scrubbed clean. My nails are filed into perfect ovals and the burn on my hand is far less prominent. My hair is silky smooth and, as I pass a hand over my right ear, I realize that I can finally hear out of it again; something the Capitol’s numerous doctors probably worked on for a few hours.
I push myself to slowly sit up and, as I lean back against the headrest, the door to my room opens and the dark-skinned Avox enters the room with a tray of food that he rests on my lap. I feel the need to ask him a million questions, but as he draws my glasses out of a drawer next to my bed and slips them onto my face, only one comes to mind, “Did Riven make it out?” Green eyes find mine and he turns back to the food before shaking his head and slipping a spoon into my hand. I stare down at the food - soup, bread, and a glass of juice - before me before sighing, “I guess it wasn’t just a bad dream.”
The voiceless Avox places a hand on mine and makes sure he has my attention before bringing a closed hand to his chest and moving it in a circle, mouthing one word, “Sorry.”
I brush him off with a shake of my head and say, “It’s not your fault.” I try to eat some of the soup I’ve been brought before asking, “Is Royce alright?”
A sharp nod is my answer. Of course, he is. He has to be. With all of the fancy tech they have in the Capitol, I’m sure he’d be fine even if he had one leg missing. The Avox I’ve yet to learn the name of leaves the room and the door closes noiselessly behind him, leaving me to the tray of food that’s been made up for me. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep and how they knew to bring me food. I know it had to have been long enough for me to be cleaned up and dressed in some cotton shorts and a plain, purple shirt, but not long enough for them to worry about hooking me up to tubes and wires like a hospital would. As I eat, the door opens again and, this time, my mentors appear and they both seem glad to see me.
“Hi,” I mutter as they sit on either side of my legs.
I set aside my spoon as Mack takes my hand in hers, holding it gingerly as she asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Glad to be out of there,” I reply. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About eight hours,” Brady replies. “We just got back from President Harmon’s mansion.”
Confusion fills me as I ask, “Why were you there?”
“To rally for them to take you out of the arena,” Mack explains. “Juliet had already convinced him by the time we got there, but he had some questions to ask us anyway.”
“About what?” I question.
Refusing to spill any information, my only response comes from Brady as he says, “You’ll see sooner or later. For now, work on getting some food into you before tomorrow.”
“Why?” I ask. “What happens tomorrow?”
“The crowning ceremony is tomorrow afternoon and the final interview is the day after,” Mack replies. “It would be best for you to get as much rest and food as possible to get your strength up before you’re made to go in front of everyone like that.”
I have to ask, “Did they do this for you guys too?”
Both of my mentors nod as Brady explains, “Ours took a while longer as we weren't in the best shape when we came out of our arenas. Riven made sure to keep you and Royce fed and strong throughout the Games, so you two don’t need as much medical care.”
Mack lightly nudges her husband, sending him a firm glare that I suppose is meant to shut him up, but it doesn’t stop me from asking, “He really didn’t make it, did he?”
“We won’t know for certain until after they run tests on him,” Mack says. “After last year, they made it a rule for all bodies to be thoroughly inspected once they leave the arena.”
“So…” I take a deep breath, letting my thoughts sink in before glancing between my mentors and asking, “So there’s a chance?”
They look to each other for an answer and I feel Mack’s grip on my hand tighten a fraction as she turns back to me and says, “For now, just focus on eating and resting. We’ll discuss everything later.”
I take that as a sign to stop questioning things and simply focus on everything else that’s going to happen in the next couple of days. They stay with me until I finish eating and each of them gives me a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before leaving, telling me to get some sleep before the chaos begins again. I find myself staring up at the ceiling for a while before tentatively easing myself from the bed. My first thought is to go up to the roof to see if he’s there, but when I try to turn the knob, I find that my bedroom door has been locked from the other side. The first people I suspect are my mentors, but then there’s also a more insidious fear that the Capitol may be monitoring my every movement and decided to confine me to my room. The feeling of being trapped in a room that the Capitol is no doubt viewing feels invasive. It almost feels as though I’ve been imprisoned for a crime and am now awaiting my sentencing. Instead of allowing the feelings to overwhelm me, I return to my bed and at least try to get a few hours of sleep until Halo comes to wake me with a chirpy exclamation about another “big, big day!”
I’m given a few minutes to scarf down some toast and eggs before the prep team descends into my room. All I have to do is thank them for their style excellence and I find it unnecessary to talk at all for the next couple of hours. They all talk about where they were and what they were doing when certain events occurred. They tell me how everyone they knew was furious with the Gamemakers for not letting Royce and me out together and how they shouldn’t have allowed Riven to die at Lexi’s hand. It feels almost nice to hear Capitol citizens show distaste for the Games, like a reassurance that they were frustrated just as much as we were.
Thankfully, I’m not at their mercy for long as Juliet comes in and shoos them away with gentle, but direct words. For the first time since the catacombs, Juliet wraps me in a hug and mutters over my shoulder, “I knew you could make it, Vivien.”
“But Riven-”
Juliet leans back, yet keeps me in her grasp as she says, “I’ll talk with you about that later, I promise. Right now, we don’t have much time.”
“Why?”
“I ran into a friend on my way out of the mansion and then saw Carrie in the hall, so I practically ran almost an hour late,” she explains with a sigh, squeezing my hands in hers. “We need to get you dressed and down to the training floor before the crowning starts.”
The dress she slips over my head is a pale, almost mint shade of green with gold glowing over it with every move I make. My shoes are thankfully flat on the ground and I could easily kick them off if I wanted to, but I’m determined to keep them on until I’m out of the cameras’ sights. Out of all the outfits I’ve worn - the chariot costume, the interview gown, the arena clothes - this is my favorite. It’s simple, the dress leaves almost everything to the imagination, and I feel almost like myself in it. If I had fancy events to go to back home, I would wear it again, but I have no need for it, so I assume Juliet will take it back later.
I find my own gaze in the mirror and wonder how much of a contrast there must be between now and when I was in the arena. A section of my hair has been braided into a sort of crown that tucks under the rest of my hair which hangs in ringlets down my back. Makeup rounds my face out and makes me look the part of a doe-eyed, chubby-cheeked child. My glasses don’t exactly match the dress, but Juliet doesn’t pry them from my face, which tells me that I can keep them where they are. My nails have been polished with little golden flowers, shimmering in the lights above us. The sheer fabric of my sleeves puffs out from my shoulders in a small bump before cinching just a few inches down on my bicep and clinging to the skin from there to my wrist. The dress gathers at my waist and falls to the floor, but I have no problems walking in it. I look young - certainly younger than nearly sixteen. I may have a little bit of height on my side, but the makeup and dress and, well, everything else, make me look as though I could only be maybe thirteen at most. I look childish. Dainty. Fragile. Harmless. Maybe that is exactly what they want me to look like; a little girl that drove the Capitol to end the Games early for the sake of love.
Looking at Juliet in the mirror, I wonder aloud, “I thought it would be more… I don’t know… adult-ish.”
Her hands feel warm through the sleeves as she takes my arms in her hands, rubbing gentle circles into my skin as she carefully answers, “I suppose you could say we were inspired by your romantic ending to the Hunger Games.”
I can read between the lines. Our romantic ending was inspired by Romeo and Juliet - the lovesick duo who decided they would rather die together than live without the other. This must be her interpretation of the outfits from the story. I have to say, it definitely isn’t something I could see a regular Capitol citizen wearing, but maybe that is why I like it so much. Worry sets into my bones as I wonder if this will only serve as a slap to everyone in charge of the Games. If this is how they supposedly dressed in Romeo and Juliet, this could be the one thing that tips them over the edge and practically lays our heads on the chopping block.
Then, my thoughts screech to a halt as I pick up on her wording - ‘we were inspired.’ Not ‘I was,’ ‘we were.’ Who is this ‘we’ that she collaborated with? My first guess is Riven’s stylist since they would have worked together for most of our designs, but I feel the only person Juliet would entrust with this would be none other than her friend, Carrie - Royce’s stylist. Curiosity piques within me despite coming to a decent conclusion and I turn to face Juliet who has now busied herself with adjusting her makeup in a small, handheld mirror. She seems too relaxed. Maybe she didn’t even catch her own little slip. Either that, or I’m reading too much into nothing.
Deciding to find the answer regardless, I softly ask, “Who else worked on this with you - your friend, Carrie?”
Juliet turns to me with a look that almost answers my question for me, yet the door opens and Halo tells us that we have to go, forcing my question to go unanswered. We take the elevator down to where we had spent nearly a week training and find that the entire room has changed. Customarily, the victor and their support team would rise from under the stage to be shown off to the public. First the prep team, followed by the escort, stylist, mentor, and finally the victor. However, it appears that having more than one victor complicates things and they’ve had to rethink everything. My area seems to be the new addition as a shiny, obviously unused, metal plate has been installed in my dimly lit little corner. I can smell the fresh paint and spot small piles of sawdust in places the workers who built it just didn’t feel like cleaning.
After making sure I feel alright being left alone for a little while, Juliet peels off to change into her outfit for the event and take her position and I sit in the only chair left in the darkened corner of the gymnasium. Through the inky darkness, I can see a makeshift wall about ten yards away and assume Royce is somewhere beyond it. In a fit of boredom, my leg starts bouncing like it would at work, however, this time, there is no incessant squeaking with every movement, just the faintest tapping of my shoe on the concrete floor. There is a damp, moldy smell in the room that overpowers the scent of paint that I, honestly, would almost prefer.
Nobody comes to see me before the anthem begins booming overhead. Caesar Flickerman takes to the stage and greets the audience in his typical, debonair way, earning the crowd’s love and attention within seconds. The prep teams are brought out and introduced and I can almost picture them bouncing around and talking as though nothing matters. When Halo and Royce’s escort, Neptune, are brought out, I realize just how different they must be. While Halo is fairly proud of her Capitol heritage, Mick told me before that she can read people like books, so I’m unsurprised at how calmly she handles her brief interview. Alternatively, I can hear a slight slur to Neptune’s words, giving the impression that she’s either celebrated with a strong drink or has some kind of speech impediment. However, the solid thump that rattles the boards above me, tells me the former is more likely.
Juliet and Carrie are introduced together and I can almost hear the beaming smiles in their voices as they pile on praises anytime a question about me or Royce comes about. They talk us up as though they’ve known us our entire lives and, I suppose, with how much our mentors have no doubt talked with them about us, they must know a lot more than we’ve told them on our own. Once the girls finish raving about us to the Capitol and the rest of Panem, our mentors are brought on stage. Mack and Brady are first up since my district number is higher than Royce’s and, while they await the crowd’s deafening applause and screeches of cheer, I take my place on the metal plate and try to imagine how hard it must be for them to relive this event every year. They handle their interview with practiced grace and relative ease before assuming their position on the stage near where I’ll soon rise into the limelight. Royce’s mentors, Butchy and Kona, are next and, while the crowd’s reaction is just as incredible as my mentors’ had been, they handle the interview differently. Kona, in an act that I would expect to come from one of my younger siblings, teases Royce for getting so attached so quickly, but Butchy applauds him for finding love despite everything the arena threw his way and they both end the interview by declaring how proud they are of both of us.
I wipe the sweat from my hands onto my dress as the plate beneath me begins to rise and suck in a shaky breath as the heat from the blinding lights focused on me makes a wave of warmth rush over me. The thunderous roar of the crowd rattles the metal under my feet and I fight to keep my balance as it locks into place under me. I look around blindly, blinking in an attempt to clear my gaze of the bright lights that have only been amplified by the lenses of my glasses and I eventually see Royce just a few yards away. His eyes shine in the lights around us and his hair is coiled to perfection, but it’s his smile that makes all of my nerves melt away. It looks the same as it did on our date or when we were listening to Riven’s shitty jokes or when we were sitting on the rooftop of this very building, throwing berries at the forcefield and catching them in our mouths.
He says something to me that I can’t hear over the crowd and I take a few steps toward him before all but launching myself at him. I can almost hear his prep team whining about messing up his hair as I thread my fingers into it, but as we find safety in each other's arms, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears and I hear a soft laugh that I know didn’t come from anyone present, but I pay it little mind. Caesar Flickerman attempts to get our attention so that we can finish the show, but Royce brushes him off by tightening his grip on me and spinning us around. Kona inevitably leaves her spot by the other mentors and pries us apart with a grin only a meddlesome thirteen-year-old could possess before good-naturedly shoving us toward the victor’s chair. We curl into each other and I cling to his left hand with both of mine as his right arm closes around my shoulders. His outfit is similar to mine - a pale green that glows a faint gold in the lights - and I find myself paying more attention to Royce than to the three-hour-long recap the Capitol has thrown together.
Condensing seventeen days into three hours is no easy feat, but they manage well enough. My first day in the arena is shown quickly as I didn’t really do much of anything, yet when the morning comes and I declare my promise of hurting anyone who hurts either Royce or Riven, pride swells within me as the audience bursts into cheers so loud I feel like covering my ears. Anytime Riven is shown on screen, I feel myself slouch a little closer to Royce, to the comfort he brings, and he welcomes me with a gentle kiss on the head every time. I notice a hush fall over the crowd every time something intense happens on screen. I suppose our time in the arena wasn’t as entertaining to the filmmakers as everyone else’s was, but my relationships with Royce and Riven go over so well, I wonder how everyone reacted the first time we talked or joked or did something drastic. Our time with Jade, Erica, and Lexi is shown here and there while our moments with the pair from District 5 are shown in full. I notice myself high in the background of some of the more dramatic scenes, but I wonder if anyone in the crowd notices anything other than the intensity on Royce’s face or the deadly, sinister smirk on Riven’s.
The explosion comes and I notice people in the audience shushing each other, not wanting to miss a moment in the disaster. For the first time, I get to see what happened in full. Royce is furthest from the explosion, yet the blast knocks him from the edge of the pool to the far end of it, slamming him into the deep end with a wave of water that soars high into the sky before sloshing back down on him, dragging him back under the surface of the water. My body rams into the ivory pillar and I watch with a wince as Riven lands hard on the ground. He leans against a nearby pillar to gain some strength, yet pushes himself to his knees to crawl toward me once I don’t return his call of my name. Then, out of the smoke that blankets the area, a hand with neon pink nails grabs Riven by the ankle and yanks him into the smoke cloud. The cameras focus on me for a while, watching me struggle to breathe - or think, for that matter - before switching to Riven again, who appears to be struggling to get Lexi off of him.
It’s a struggle to keep my expression as neutral as possible watching the “fight” - if you can even call it that. I know Riven. I’ve watched him throw giant spools of wire like they don’t weigh more than a pillow; there’s no way he would be bested by a toothpick of a girl with a knife. There has to be something more to it that I just don’t know yet, but as the camera switches focus to me again, I’m forced to make note of it for later. The screen splits into two, showing me as I spot the machete nearby and Royce who has begun kicking his way to the nearest ladder, panting for air like a dog on a hot day as a cannon blasts, sending both of us into a panic. I try to call out to Royce and for the first time, I realize that he tried to call back to me. The machete is thrown and, despite the cannon, I can now distinctly make out Riven’s voice calling my name. Not Royce’s, not Erica’s or Jade’s - Riven’s. I would know his voice anywhere. Of course, I would; I’ve worked with him for years now. Knowing how expressive I typically am and how my every emotion shows in full clarity on my face, I turn into Royce’s side and tuck my face into his neck as though I’m overwhelmed with emotion, but as he wraps me tight in his arms, I wonder if he realizes just how many notes I’m making in my head, all the questions still burning inside of me.
We’re made to watch clips of the last few days and I finally get to see what truly happened between Serena, Jade, and Erica. Erica and Jade planned their fight, waiting outside of Serena’s little hiding spot until she emerged. Jade was the first to die, then Serena’s brutal slaying followed, then Erica died later on, softly singing a song while still holding Jade’s hand. The crowd watching is silent through it all.
On screen, Royce and I spend our last day together and, thankfully, the filmmakers cut out the parts where Royce challenged the Gamemakers, something I’m grateful for. Instead, the video focuses on the two of us spending the day together, acting as nothing more than a couple on vacation. The audience coos at our every interaction, and I don’t fight the smile on my face as Royce meets my gaze and presses a kiss to my cheek. The moment with the berries comes all too soon and the audience hushes each other once again so as not to miss a second. The filmmakers don’t end the film there, keeping the footage rolling until we’ve cleaned our mouths of the nightlock wine and are locked in a kiss.
Once the screen fades to black, the anthem begins to play and we rise from the loveseat as President Harmon takes the stage followed by none other than his daughter and my stylist, Juliet. Juliet carries a cushion with the victor’s crown on it, however, much to everyone’s confusion, there is only one crown. Instead of prolonging the crowd’s curiosity, President Harmon takes the crown and twists it, splitting the crown into two halves. The first crown is placed atop Royce’s curls and he tells Royce something that makes him smile and duck a nod in return. Then, with a smile, President Harmon approaches me and settles the second crown just past the braided crown my prep team wove for me.
His aquamarine eyes are intense, yet kind up close and I can see a sort of humor in them that glimmers as he says, “Romeo and Juliet, hm?”
“Yes, sir,” I meekly reply, not daring to pull my gaze from his.
He spares a discreet glance toward his daughter before smiling back at me and remarking, “Wise choice, little one.”
“Thank you.”
President Harmon nods and gives a final, “Congratulations,” before taking his place off to the side so that all of Panem can cheer for us. I wave to the crowd so much that I worry my arm will fall off, but Caesar finally bids the audience good night and reminds them to tune in for the final interviews tomorrow. It isn’t like they have a choice in the matter, but the illusion of choice is there all the same. All too soon, Royce and I are whisked away to the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet where we have little time to talk with each other and spend more time acting as though we care about the people in the city that we’ll never see again. After food is eaten and everyone has spent the night taking pictures of us and talking our ears off, President Harmon announces the end of the banquet and people begin to leave. Instead of allowing us to follow suit, a lady in a fancy, silver outfit stands in front of the exit, telling us the president has requested an audience with me and Royce. While the others are instructed to go back to the Training Center, Juliet and Carrie take me and Royce to a large, circular room they say is the president’s meeting room. A round table with a screen in the center is surrounded by chairs and I’m vaguely reminded of a place back home that we call the “Meeting of the Minds” where all of the top people from each of the factories and hubs of District 3 meet every month and have top secret discussions. I had been there once with the mayor’s daughter, Bissette, on behalf of our school and it was horrendously boring. I doubt this meeting will be the same.
The girls leave us in the meeting room and we’re alone for less than a minute before the doors on the far end of the room open and President Harmon enters. He takes one look at us and chuckles as he sets two boxes on the table, “Relax, you two. You’re not in any trouble.”
I find that hard to believe, but as he takes a seat and gestures for us to follow, I swallow my opinion. Royce takes my hand in his and I can feel how cold his normally warm skin has become. He’s just as scared as I am. Why are we here? By the looks we received from the others, this isn’t normal. The president can’t kill us here, if that’s what his plan is. We still have the interview tomorrow and there will be a lot of cameras awaiting our arrival in our home districts, making it damn near impossible for us to be killed off and replaced with clones just yet.
My thoughts derail as President Harmon presses a button on the table and the screen in the center disappears. Instead, he clears his throat and sighs, “I’ll make this quick so that you two can rest up before your interview and the ride back home. I want you two to be the first to know that you will be the very last victors of the Hunger Games.”
“What do you mean?” Royce asks.
“For some time now, Panem’s opinion of the Games has been steadily dropping,” the president answers. “I have been looking for a reason to end them before the next Quarter Quell. This year, you two have given me the perfect opportunity.”
“How so?” I have to ask.
“You’ve given the people something to root for other than death,“ he explains with a grin. “Your little love story - regardless of how true it may be - drove many Capitol citizens to plead for your safe return. I intend to announce the dissolution of the Hunger Games at the banquet I hold after your Victory Tour this January.”
Something about this doesn’t feel right. As much as I want so desperately to believe his words, I can almost hear Riven telling me, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”
Royce beats me to the chase, questioning, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” President Harmon says with a shake of his head. “You two are free to go back to your home districts. I will allow your mentors to escort you between districts if you wish to visit the other, however, until the Victory Tour is done and the announcement is made, I do ask that you never speak a word of this to anyone outside of this room - dead or alive.”
He knows. He definitely knows. He knows Mick and Miles are alive. I bet he has cameras all throughout the districts, just watching as people go about their normal days. Why didn’t he do something about it? As the president, he has the power to send a group out to kill them off with just the snap of his fingers; why didn’t he? If I question it, does that put my head on a spike? Or, even worse, Royce’s, Mick’s, and Miles’?
Instead, I swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth and nod, giving a simple, “Noted.”
Royce nods in agreement and President Harmon hums as he picks up his packages, rises from his seat, and begins walking toward us, “Good.”
“What happens now?” Royce asks as we stand, finally face-to-face with the president once again.
President Harmon holds out the two square boxes for us to take, “You take these, go back to your rooms, and don’t read them until you arrive back in your respective districts. Once the celebrations are over and you’ve made yourselves comfortable in the villages, take some time to read through those, and don’t hesitate to give me some feedback on what you think needs to be changed.”
“What are they?” I ask. A small lock with a fingerprint scanner is the only thing keeping it closed, so whatever is inside must be important. Judging by how heavy it is, there must be something more than papers inside the tightly bound box.
“A written copy of my announcement to Panem as well as some things I would like you to say at the announcement as well,” he states with a small grin. “Also, if you must know, there is a copy of my favorite novel in there as well, if you would like to read it over in your own time. I figured that, as fellow bookworms, you would enjoy it as much as I have over the years.”
Royce and I thank him and President Harmon nods before guiding us through his mansion, past the multitude of Avoxes cleaning the remnants of the banquet, and to the front door. The president holds the door open for us and Royce leaves first, obviously eager to be out of the man’s presence. I follow close behind, but I find an unasked question still lingering in my head. Turning back to the door, I ask, “Is that why the secret passageway was in the library? Because you love books?”
Something shines in President Harmon’s eyes as he questions, “What passageway?”
I go to respond, wanting to insist that he must know about it. Juliet told me that he used to be the Head Gamemaker and would always put an escape route in his arenas, therefore, he must know. However, I freeze as I meet his gaze, finding a mirth in them that tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. Instead of pressing further, I allow my mouth to close and a knowing grin to take over as I wish him a good night. He bids me good night before closing the door and I allow Royce to lead me to the car that has been left for us in front of the house. We ride back to the Training Center and find our way up to my floor where everyone is waiting by the elevator, ready to press us for answers as to what happened with the president. Once their interrogations are over, Royce and his group go to their floor, and the rest of us head to bed for the night.
The rest of our time in the Capitol flies by faster than one of the hovercrafts. My nerves throughout the interview feel as though they’ve been shot at and I can’t remember much of anything I said apart from expressing just how whirlwind my relationship with Royce has been and how much I adore him, which is reciprocated with ease on Royce’s part. We’re brought up to our rooms to take what we wish to bring with us and I make sure to have Bissette’s hair stick in my bag before I worry about anything else. I’ve yet to remove Riven’s bracelet, my mom’s necklace, or my glasses, so all of my possessions from home are already set aside, but I do take quite a few things from my closet for the trip back to 3.
We’re driven through the Capitol streets in a car with blackened windows and eventually board the train. As there isn’t much distance between our districts, we’re allowed to ride the train together, which almost fills the gap I feel at not being able to bring Riven home with me. Once we’ve settled, the train begins moving and we’re plunged into the dark of night. At first, I go to my room to try to see if maybe I can speak with Mick again as I know she laughed at me when I was on stage at the crowning ceremony, but nothing happens, so I resign to eating with the others and watching a replay of the interview. The further away the Capitol is, the more I feel myself relax, but I can’t bring myself to be completely calm about the situation. I’ve still lost one of my closest friends and, sadly, this isn’t like the situation with Mick. The next time I’ll probably see Riven is at his funeral once the festivities have calmed and the Capitol sends the bodies home. Until then, I just have to deal with things like I always do - overworking myself.
I excuse myself to change into something more comfortable and slowly work on taking apart everything the prep team and Juliet built up so much. As I’m slipping into a pair of shorts, a quiet knock tells me someone is at my door. I open it to find Royce and welcome him in, asking him why he’s here. “I wanted to ask you something,” he starts and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he perches himself on the edge of my bed.
“Go ahead,” I reply with a shrug as I sit in front of my vanity again, hoping the streaks of color I’ve begun wiping from my face in the mirror won’t deter him.
“Can I stay with you?” he breathes. “I tried staying in my room and I just… I can’t. It’s too quiet and cold.”
A soft breath of a laugh leaves me as I swivel my chair to face Royce, “I was going to ask you the same thing once I was done cleaning up.”
“You were?”
I hum, “I don’t like being alone anyway, but I may or may not have gotten attached to sleeping beside you. I was going to ask, but you beat me to it.”
Royce’s smile returns and pride fills me as I go back to cleaning my melting raccoon-esque face in the mirror. After a while, we leave the room to bid the others good night and disappear into the room we now declare as ours. It takes us both a while to fall asleep as we both take to talking, but after a while, it comes and we sleep nearly all the way to District 3. In the morning, we’re awoken by a swan-diving Kona who laughs like a little maniac at our expressions before being dragged away by Butchy who reprimands her for bothering us before coming back and telling us we’re nearing the station. Over breakfast, the others inform us that we’ll be docking in District 3 and staying there for the night before taking the trip to District 6 tomorrow where I’ll stay for a night before we split off and go our separate ways. Royce and I wait by the windows, watching as the scenery outside changes from a sunny sky and endless grass to the depths of a glowing tunnel that signifies we’re nearing the station. Watching through the window, I can feel the train slowing and see the glowing loading platforms grow larger and brighter as we near the station. A gathering of brightly flashing cameras line the platform as we come to a stop and I realize just how many people will be eagerly awaiting our arrival.
A hand appears out of the corner of my eye and I find Royce offering it for me to hold with a smile. My eyebrow raises and he asks, “Are you ready?”
“Not really,” I chuckle. Royce shares my soft laughter briefly before my fingers find their home between his and I smile, “But as long as I’m with you, I know I can handle almost anything.”
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❛ i don't even know who i am anymore. i've lost myself in trying to please everyone else. ❜
🐝 * ― 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. || @kuroyrii || accepting
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Time always has been the relentless sculptor, carving paths and extinguishing flames of life. Through numerous iterations of his life, Hanzo turned scars into stories, tales of triumphs over trials and tribulations, revelations of a newfound solace, of a dimming need for another effulgent flame to vigorously stir his being. And in his more quiet moments, Scorpion's vicious bloodthirsty demon has become a ghost of his past, a reminder of a bond once unbreakable. Yet, this is not a Siren's call, nor a whisper for it to return, but a testament to countless lessons learned.
For Hanzo, healing is not forgetting; it is remembering and accepting that some bonds are stepping stones to his truest form of self. It is understanding that he is now complete, with strengths and flaws and all, not in spite of the pain he lived and trauma he still endures to this day and beyond, but precisely because of everything that comprises to make him whole.
Hanzo too, is familiar with leaving bits of himself behind; everywhere and always. Perhaps having been cursed with throes of eternal hellfire, as Death's cruelty reigned over him and that of many has rendered him more pliable, letting himself float along the tide, as the realms continued to battle the onslaught of annihilation, for the possession of the Hourglass. As the conduits of life continues to unfurl, they too, will become the accumulation of growth and decay. As the sunburst aura of the settling sun basks upon them both, the towering broadness of his figure radiates the resplendent dusk, then incinerates the notion of darkness saturating within him, as the fathomless umber of his eyes descend upon her silhouette, meeting her eyes.
Hanzo Hasashi is used to attempting to distance himself from everything in truth, going against the system of the wild, of the tides of the natural world. Despite being a formidable and powerful pyromancer, he still wields an aura who has been stripped from every power and dominance, even in his indomitable dignity and spirit, as certain vulnerability etches through his solemn, fathomless umber eyes. How flashes of his memories, both past and imagined futures, remain stuck in his daydreams, as the extension of his sincerity and intensity exudes through his expression and vocalization. How his third language, physical comfort through his empathy, solidifies his point and beckons Sayuri closer. As if Hanzo is hearing her heart's cadence and feeling her weary soul.
"I think life itself is like the sky; constantly changing, filled with so much beauty, yet never staying the same. One moment, you are painted in the most beautiful colors, and the next, you are ever so dark with the light of all you have to offer, with all the secrets you keep and the all the love you have, shining through the vast seas of darkness," even when humanity knows themselves and to change themselves, sometimes Hanzo struggles with the inability to accept loss. Perhaps it is a sign of insanity solely exacerbated by his ongoing trauma.
What if he accepts loss before it has happened? Or he is unable to accept the fact that the loss has not occurred? Grandmaster Hasashi cannot please anyone nor the construct of time, with this lose-lose battle. "Even as we become scraped, cracked, and damaged by anything and everything... We ought to weather the tempest and strive to become resilient. You are much stronger than you think, and pleasing everyone is simply impossible. Why should you further dance on flowers of chaos when we could be dissolved and enmeshed in halcyon peace and warmth of stillness?" ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||
#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii)#kuroyrii
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Breaking the silence..
As I look back on my life, I never imagined that sexual abuse would be a part of my story. I was just a child when a close family friend, someone I trusted, took advantage of me in the most horrific way. The pain and devastation that followed were beyond words. I was confused, overwhelmed, and felt so dirty about myself. I didn't know how to cope with the trauma that had been forced upon me.
In the aftermath, I found myself grappling with immense guilt. I blamed myself for what happened, thinking that if only I had been more careful or had said no, then maybe it wouldn't have happened. I spiraled into a dark place, engaging in destructive behavior, believing that I deserved to be punished for something that was not my fault.
But what hurt me the most was the realization that my family knew about the abuse all along. They chose to stay silent, turning a blind eye to my pain. It was as if my suffering didn't matter, as if it was something that would just go away on its own. This betrayal from my own family was a deep wound that took a long time to heal.
As the years went by, I tried to move on from the trauma. I buried the memories deep inside, trying to forget. But one night, a nightmare brought everything back to the surface. I woke up in tears, feeling the weight of the past bearing down on me. I reached for my Bible app, seeking solace in scripture, and it was then that I realized my aunt, who was sleeping beside me, had no idea about what had happened to me.
I couldn't believe it. How could my family keep something so significant from the rest of them? The feelings of betrayal, hurt, and anger resurfaced. However, in the midst of it all, I also realized that despite everything, I was still here, alive. God had spared my life through numerous suicide attempts, and I knew deep down that He had a plan for me.
Breaking the silence was not easy. It took immense courage to finally speak up about what had happened to me. I knew it was the right thing to do, not just for myself, but for others who may be going through similar situations. I wanted to be a voice for those who felt silenced and encourage them to speak up and seek help.
I realized that I didn't deserve to go through the trauma of sexual abuse. No one does. No one should suffer in silence, carrying the burden alone. It's time to break the cycle of abuse and start having open conversations about it. We need to take action and make a change in our communities, in our families, and in society as a whole.
To anyone who has experienced sexual abuse, please know that you are not alone. There is help available, and healing is possible. You are worthy of love, respect, and happiness, no matter what anyone else may say. It's okay to speak up, to seek support, and to prioritize your well-being. You are not to blame, and you have the right to reclaim your voice and your life.
In conclusion, sharing my story of sexual abuse has been a challenging but necessary step in my healing journey. It has allowed me to break the silence, to confront the pain and betrayal, and to take control of my narrative. I hope that by speaking out, I can inspire others to do the same and create a world where survivors of sexual abuse are heard, supported, and empowered. Together, let's raise our voices and make a difference. It's time to break the silence and create a safer, more compassionate world for a As I look back on my life, I never imagined that sexual abuse would be a part of my story. I was just a child when a close family friend, someone I trusted, took advantage of me in the most horrific way. The pain and devastation that followed were beyond words. I was confused, overwhelmed, and felt so dirty about myself. I didn't know how to cope with the trauma that had been forced upon me.
In the aftermath, I found myself grappling with immense guilt. I blamed myself for what happened, thinking that if only I had been more careful or had said no, then maybe it wouldn't have happened. I spiraled into a dark place, engaging in destructive behavior, believing that I deserved to be punished for something that was not my fault.
But what hurt me the most was the realization that my family knew about the abuse all along. They chose to stay silent, turning a blind eye to my pain. It was as if my suffering didn't matter, as if it was something that would just go away on its own. This betrayal from my own family was a deep wound that took a long time to heal.
As the years went by, I tried to move on from the trauma. I buried the memories deep inside, trying to forget. But one night, a nightmare brought everything back to the surface. I woke up in tears, feeling the weight of the past bearing down on me. I reached for my Bible app, seeking solace in scripture, and it was then that I realized my aunt, who was sleeping beside me, had no idea about what had happened to me.
I couldn't believe it. How could my family keep something so significant from the rest of them? The feelings of betrayal, hurt, and anger resurfaced. However, in the midst of it all, I also realized that despite everything, I was still here, alive. God had spared my life through numerous suicide attempts, and I knew deep down that He had a plan for me.
Breaking the silence was not easy. It took immense courage to finally speak up about what had happened to me. I knew it was the right thing to do, not just for myself, but for others who may be going through similar situations. I wanted to be a voice for those who felt silenced and encourage them to speak up and seek help.
I realized that I didn't deserve to go through the trauma of sexual abuse. No one does. No one should suffer in silence, carrying the burden alone. It's time to break the cycle of abuse and start having open conversations about it. We need to take action and make a change in our communities, in our families, and in society as a whole.
To anyone who has experienced sexual abuse, please know that you are not alone. There is help available, and healing is possible. You are worthy of love, respect, and happiness, no matter what anyone else may say. It's okay to speak up, to seek support, and to prioritize your well-being. You are not to blame, and you have the right to reclaim your voice and your life.
In conclusion, sharing my story of sexual abuse has been a challenging but necessary step in my healing journey. It has allowed me to break the silence, to confront the pain and betrayal, and to take control of my narrative. I hope that by speaking out, I can inspire others to do the same and create a world where survivors of sexual abuse are heard, supported, and empowered. Together, let's raise our voices and make a difference. It's time to break the silence and create a safer, more compassionate world for all.
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disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.
****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about
CW: ableism, filicide, abuse
In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant.
But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist.
For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.
Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad
Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.
Kaz Brekker
Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)
The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”
Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is.
His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.
The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.
In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”.
I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me.
Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)
Next, we have Wylan.
Oh fucking boy.
I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.
Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.
Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully.
Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled.
Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.
The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability.
Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community.
That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.
The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!
Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged.
And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people.
Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted.
Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows.
Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.
All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)
happy fucking disability pride month, ig
#soc#six of crows#kaz brekker#soc kaz#kaz talk tag#kanej#grisha#grishaverse#ketterdam#leigh bardugo#bardugo#crooked kingdom#ck#wylan#wylan van sunshine#wylan supremacy#jesper x wylan#wesper#jesper fahey#shadow and bone#wylan van eck#jan van eck#ableism#ableist bullshit#ableist slurs#disability#disability pride month#i will punch you in the face#el oh el#laugh out loud
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Warnings:mentions of past pain, fear and panic (attack), black magic?
I do NOT condone toxic mind sets, nor do I glorify demons or sins
This is a work of FICTION for ENTERTAINMENT and nothing else
Disclaimer: I got inspired to make this crossover here, and I'm going to assume you have either a basic knowledge of Obey Me, or at least are willing to overlook that in favor of the experience.
(Long af) Synopsis: You've been gone for days. Not even Diavolo and Barbatos can find you. That's a long time to be missing in the Devildom. Even longer for a human as you. They don't know where you could be. Simeon and Luke found nothing in the Celestial Realm. Solomon and countless contacts haven't found a trace in the human world. They begin to break. They're never seeing you again. Then Levi wanders to your room, intent on playing your favorite games and maybe stealing a used hoodie so he can fall asleep to your smell. Pretend you're still at home. Still well. Opening your computer; he sees something he hasn't dabbled much in. Genshin Impact. You'd gushed about numerous characters but he'd never looked at it himself. Maybe he'll wander for a while, maybe the new experience will distract him for an hour or several.
And then he rushes to get Lucifer when he sees you soaked and shivering in your blood stained clothes on an island.
Word count: 1,261
You were only alive because of a mixture of dumb luck and basic knowledge of magic. You high key wish you'd paid more attention when Solomon was tutoring you. At the least; you knew enough to keep the Teyvat people off your back. Long enough to lose them, at least. Through your "God" menu, you could see Levi trying to find a way into Genshin while his brothers pestered him with worry. It seemed he needed something he didn't have.. This was "your" world, could you give that something? You felt something almost questioning you. Yes, it was your permission he was lacking.
And yet, it did nothing. You had spent half an hour trying to will it to let your demons through, but you couldn't quite force it. As frustration mounted, you lashed out in anger at the system. You had made some progress! Of course!
You stewed for a while as your demons watched in confusion and worry at your sudden lack of action. You contemplated everything since your arrival. Every insult. Every assault. Every murder attempt. Many at the hands of the characters you loved.
Your pact marks burn, fire of four appropriate colors circling you in complex sigils.
How dare they harm your earned pride. You've survived HELL and they think they can treat you that way, God or not??
Something yields
Greed and envy cloud you. They had so many good things, the archons. Power. Respect. You wanted the same. Surely you deserved it, especially after their pathetic behavior??
The pact marks pull
Wrath burned your heart. You want to hurt them. Make them suffer as they did you. THEY DESERVE TO EXPERIENCE YOUR PAIN. HOW DARE THEY CALL THEMSELVES GODS?!
In a blaze of multi-colored fire, your demons appear before you. Naturally, Mammon is before you first, clearly still calming from the panic and desperate fury from when they were searching for you. Lucifer tries to keep a semblance of order as Satan begins putting his human anatomy studies to use, checking you over with a more precise - if mildly deranged- eye.
You try to recover yourself from the magic. Throwing yourself into sinful magic is one thing, another when you're also the master of their avatars. The four greater sins still threaten to cloud your reasoning.
When you're fully you again, you see Beelzebub finishing up some last injuries of yours. Even as a demon, he still has some residual healing magic from his cherub days. Despite Asmo and Mammon babbling at you in a panic, you focus on Satan.
"Mittens, will you please breathe for me?" Satan's slitted eyes jump to you the moment you started speaking. Noxious tar drips from his talons, skin partially cracked and burning hellfire. His horns curve in spite of his mostly human
appearance. He doesn't respond, but you see him trying to regain composure. His eyes are looking everywhere but the few wounds you still have.
Giving the gentle smile you know calms him, you turn to address the drama queens of the group. "Mammon, Asmodeus" They stop babbling for a moment, caught off guard both from your tone and the fact you haven't called them by their first names since half way through your first year at RAD. "I'm fine, I'm still here." They both crumple as they cry.
To your side, you feel Beelzebub exhale heavily, you can see the fear in his eyes. He almost lost another one. You tilt his head to look at you. "I'm right here, you haven't lost me yet." He smiles through a few tears as he finishes healing the final scratch mark on your shoulder. You're pretty sure it was from Venti's bow. Or was it Amber?
Levi hugs you tightly from behind, tail wrapped around your waist. You whisper sweet nothings to him before he has a chance to enter a full blown panic attack. You don't bother doing much when Belphegor somehow forces his way past his brothers to lay in your lap. You idly pet his hair the way he likes to calm his shaking. What would he have done if he lost the one he'd… The one… He snarls to himself as he harshly forces the thought out of his head.
Meanwhile, you look up to see four raven black wings shielding you all from the sun. Lucifer is glowering at you, eyes both soft as his feathers and hard as his horns. You smile at him. His gaze hardens. But you know him. He's trying to keep composure. You can almost see his thought process in his eyes.
On one hand, he wishes he could be frustrated. Why do you always find trouble?? Why can't you just be safe for once??
But you can see the other side too. He almost lost the one that did so much for his brothers without question. The one that made them into better people in spite of their demonhood.
By his father he almost lost his vesper.
His hands begin to clench. As his wings encompass his family, he lets his walls down in front of his brothers for the first time in an eon. And despite their best efforts, it feels almost like permission. They all cry as they hold you.
They almost lost the one person they've all loved so purely. The only one they've loved so purely since the Fall.
It's some time before you all recover. At their worried eyes, you begin to explain from the beginning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You'd wished you'd lied. They didn't make it halfway through the story before Satan was about to commit genocide, and the rest weren't doing much better. In the end you had to use the pact with a shout of "SIT" to keep them from charging blindly into the horizon with intent to kill. It took quite some time, but eventually you felt their resistance to your order dwindle. Even then, you waited to make sure they were in control again.
You thought about finally returning home, after weeks (from your end) of running and eating what random fruit you could. You just wanted this nightmare to be over. Or did you? Whispered one of your inner voices. You remember the utter feeling of betrayal as you were chased by your beloved characters.
Satan and Asmo noticed first. Satan tried not to look too excited as he felt your Wrath rising. Asmo didn't bother hiding his at all. The others watched as you begun shaking with all the pain you'd been through. Suddenly Amso and Satan were worried again, as were the rest. With a mental snap, you release them from their orders. They scramble to their feet in an attempt to comfort you again.
A shame, then, that you didn't want comfort.
"Leviathan," They all froze from the power and sin in your voice. Levi especially.
This wasn't you calling your gaming buddy.
This wasn't you calling for your dear Levi chan.
Your Otaku guide.
You were calling for the Leviathan.
You were calling for the Grand Admiral of the Devildom's Navy.
You were summoning The Hellmouth.
You were summoning the Avatar Of Envy.
You turned to Levi with equal amounts of hate and sorrow in your eyes. "I've kept the portal open, summon Lotan, summon the sirens. Bring forth your army of the Depths."
And the brothers shivered.
This wasn't the human that bumbled their way through the Devildom.
This wasn't the human that pouted when they got a surprise necromancy exam.
This was [First] [Middle] [Last]
Master of the seven Princes of Hell.
#obey me#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin imagines#obey me imagines#om! shall we date#Villain sagau#genshin cult au
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one day, you all will know true peace when i stop making bakugou the default character to the maladaptive daydreamz i write. but until then...
get well soon! | bakugou katsuki
pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader // 2.9k words
genre: fluff — contains spoilers from mha chap 298; includes kissing, thats it!
summary: free bakugou until it’s backwards!!! but until then, he appreciates having your presence around as he takes the time to properly heal.
the way i haven’t written a full fic since oct </3... but i needed to post this b4 aquarius season ends tmrrw...
He’s never had to stay this long in a hospital before.
Sure, there were minor check-ins that he had to tend to at the clinics every so often from the injuries he’s received, but he never had to stay more than a few days at hand.
“Only a couple more days until you’re discharged…”
The sound of your voice prompts Bakugou to shift his gaze away from the TV screen stationed at the corner of his hospital room to focus his sights on you. Deep shades of scarlet watch as your hands absent-mindedly pick at the white petals from the bouquet that his mother had gifted him.
Carnations, a ‘get well soon’ present that would prompt him back to wellness. They were becoming quite the eyesore. The stems were beginning to droop and dull in colour with how poorly maintained they had been kept for the past week.
“That must be exciting for you, yeah?”
Bakugou shrugs, but he’s quick to regret his slight movement due to the small wince that follows shortly after. Despite being placed in the hospital for a little over a week now, a great mass of Bakugou’s body still aches. “It’s whatever,” he mutters, dismissing the subject matter altogether, “I’ll be back to doing the same crap over again anyway, so it’s nothing special.”
Closing your eyes, you sink yourself further down into your seat near his bedside and sigh. The windows a few steps away from Bakugou’s left allow for the sun’s late afternoon glow to beam into his room. You’ve sat here with him for the past two hours and a half from when you first came.
“You’re so pessimistic, you know that?” You announce, resting your arms against the bed’s side rails, which promote access to you, propping your cheek onto your hands with your face turned towards Bakugou. “Always thinking so negatively.”
Choosing not to respond to your comment, Bakugou soaks in the brief silence shared within the confines of his room.
For the past few days, other than his immediate family, who was relentless about visiting him as much as they could- save for the days where work would pull them away- your regular visits were something that became apart of Bakugou’s daily schedule.
Wake up. Eat whatever shitty food the kitchen staff has to offer for the day. Wait through numerous check-ups and appointments, while the nurses examine the vital state of his internal organs. And then, he has a bit of free time to himself before either you or any visitor arrives at Hosu General hospital.
“I’m just telling it as it is.”
Bakugou would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to your visits.
Like Pavlov’s law, he’s grown conditioned upon awaiting your arrival every day, always finding himself sitting a bit straighter in his bed whenever 15:00 rolled around on the clock.
Growing bored with not much to do, Bakugou allows his eyes to wander the room, skimming each object with little to no thought before his eyes would drop down on your form once again. With your eyes still closed, Bakugou takes this chance to absorb your presence before him fully. Watching the tiny twitches that would happen every now and then on your face out of curiosity.
The amount of fear and dread that washed over you the moment you caught news of how Bakugou jumped in front of his childhood friend, Midoriya, to spare his life, in turn, putting his own on the line had you aching to the bone.
You were scared and couldn’t bring yourself to the thought that you would lose him, and there wasn’t much that you could do about it since you and a few others were far from where the main fight had gone down.
Regardless of whether Bakugou had a chance of waking up or not, you were still adamant about swinging by his hospital room as often as you could until the second day where he miraculously woke up. And caused an uproar as he did. He had to be restrained as he tried to check up on the others’ wellbeing as he did so.
To be placed inside of a room alone, with no one around to tell him what the fuck exactly went on, Bakugou was on edge. Hands down, that day would take the cake as being the most overwhelming experience he has had at his time here. Where were was Deku, for starters? And where did you disappear off to?
He really didn’t deserve you.
Pulling himself out from his thoughts, Bakugou breaks the silence to pester you with something. “Pass me that, will you?” He asks, nodding his head over to the sole snack that sat on his bedside table. Something that one of the nurses left behind for him after his physical exam.
You blink, snapping yourself back to reality. You crane your next behind you, following his line of sight to the bright Tarami packaging. “Sure,” you grab and toss it for him to take.
Bakugou grunts out his gratitude. “Getting to eat normal food again will be the pinnacle of my life,” he states, rolling the Tarami around in his hands. “They feed us nothing but literal dog water and bland shit. “
“I’m sure the staff is trying their best. You aren’t the only mouth they feed in here after all,” you say, referencing the fact that your other peers, such as Todoroki and Midoriya to name a few, found themselves in the same situation as he did.
“I fuckin’ guess,” he mutters in response, his focus shifted onto trying to rip open his snack but to no avail.
“Want me to - ”
“Don’t need it,” he says, cutting your sentence short. His bandaged thumbs are still fumbling to get a good grip on the plastic seal that stood in the way between him and his fruit cup. “This stupid gauze is just - ” The cup tumbles out from his hold and rolls out onto his lap. “Dammit!”
You smile at the display in front of you. Bakugou glaring at the container as if it had crossed him wrong was quite the sight to see. The fact that he has shown no signs of making another attempt at opening the seal gave you an indication that it was your turn to step in.
What a dork.
“Jesus, Katsuki,” you say, shaking your head at his stubborn nature. You take the fruit cup off his lap and, without issue tear the seal off before passing it back to him. He was too headstrong for his own good sometimes. “Nobody’s gonna bite you if you ask for help once in a while.”
Bakugou scoffs - losing steam now, he tips the rim of the cup against his lips, knocking back as many diced peaches he could fit inside of his mouth.
A mix of wonder and admiration suddenly crosses you as you study how quick he is to swallow down his food. Not even bothering to make use of the silver spoon left astray on the stand.
Bakugou silently chews. His cheeks have bulked up in size for the time being until all traces of food have been gone. Cute. “You’re so - ” You start but cut yourself short, wanting to enjoy the serene atmosphere rather than spurring him to the edge towards nagging at you.
You reach your hand out towards Bakugou, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth to clean the small mess he has made, to which he gently swats your hand away. His mannerisms were still the same as ever, never changing.
“I’m so what?” He asks, flicking his attention onto you as he watches the way your eyes linger on his face.
“You’re so amazing, was what I was going to say.”
“Damn straight.”
You half-heartedly roll your eyes at his narcissistic response and reach for your phone, checking the time. “Wow, it’s now getting to 18:00?” You exclaim, swiftly entering the passcode to your iPhone and so that your fingers could scroll to the Tokyo Train Navigation app to check the times of when you should catch the next ride home.
Bakugou brows bump together in confusion at your surprise. “What about it? That means you’re ditching me already?”
“Only for today though, the next train is coming in 30 minutes, and I gotta catch it before it gets dark out.”
As much as Bakugou isn’t a big fan of having your time spent together but abruptly short, he understands where you’re coming from, mentally putting himself in your shoes.
At hours like these, when the begins to sun hide behind the city’s tall, towering buildings, it isn’t an ideal situation to have you walking out alone in the middle of dimly lit streets where villains may lurk at any corner. Especially after the shit show that went down this past week with the jailbreak.
He’d have no problem walking you home at times like this, but he can’t. Not when he’s on a “house arrest” list with the staff of the hospital.
“Fine,” he replies, dropping his head into his hands, which then finds purchase through his hair. Pissed with the cards he’s been dealt with. Feeling like he should clarify about your safety, Bakugou pipes up, “Make sure you ask the front desk to have one of their idiot guards walk you to the station. I hear that they do that.”
“Yeah, of course,” you say, collecting your belongings from the ground. “Not trying to be edited in with the clouds.” A remark that was supposed to prompt a lighthearted, humorous feel to the conversation, but Bakugou remains tight-lipped as ever. A fitting expression for your grouch of a boyfriend.
“I’m serious. Text me when you get home too.”
“And so am I! I love my life.”
And he loves you-- was something that Bakugou refrains himself from saying. It was something that he still had trouble saying verbally but had no difficulty expressing.
You walk towards the door, ready to bid your counterpart a farewell, but he beats you to the punch.
“The hell are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice halts you from making your grand exit.
He stares at you sharply from his bed. Glowering with jaw taut as he eyes your hand placed onto the sliding door. “Cut that shit out, come back.”
“For why?”
You hear Bakugou breathe out a hushed hiss, becoming peeved at how evasive you were when he knew for a fact that you were aware of what he wanted you to do for him. “Come and do the thing.”
At his sudden inquiry, you finally turn around to face him. “What thing?” You prod, wanting to hear him say what he wanted out loud. To be straightforward with you for once rather than dancing around the topic like he always does.
Sidestepping the multiple wires and the IV tube that he was hooked up to, at last, you close the distance between you both. Finding yourself back beside Bakugou’s bed, and now settle yourself down onto the small space that he has created for you on his mattress.
You feel giddy. A hazy warmth exudes from your chest that spreads down to your toes as you watch the slow change of pigmentation in Bakugou’s face. Blotches of a soft, rosy pink littered his exposed neck, indicating the effect that had over him.
Caving in, Bakugou swallows down his pride and utters, “Kiss me…” His tone is wavering in the slightest.
There it was.
Propping your hand near Bakugou’s face to steady yourself, you nod. You’re gentle in the process as you move much closer to Bakugou, attentive as not to brush up against any of his wounds. “Okay,” you murmur.
You think to yourself about how pretty looks from your point of view. Admiring how Bakugou's plush and soft skin was despite the light bruises and scratches he’s gained from the fight, he looked very well-maintained for a hospital patient.
The more time that you take, you become aware of the fact that Bakugou isn’t above taking a fistful of your shirt and tugging you down so that you could meet his lips. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were to do so right now.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he waits. Patiently, for you to make your move and just fucking kiss him already. Though there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.
Feeling the bed dip beside him, Bakugou could damn near feel his heart hammering against his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it will you,” he chides, his striking features already beginning to twist into an unreadable expression.
You laugh, unable to bite back your giggles as the male fixed you with his signature scowl. “Look at you, being a bully to the person you want a kiss from...” You say, leaning in close, now only hovering a few mere centimetres from his lips, both of you desperate for what would come next.
“You’re so mean, I swear.”
And that’s when you decide to close the distance, pressing your lips together.
It was quite sweet, literally, for his lips tasted of citrus.
Bakugou does a poor job at suppressing down his groan the moment your fingers wind themselves into his hair. The pads of your fingertips adoringly dance across his scalp.
The kiss starts off relatively chaste, both of you relishing in each other’s warmth as you pepper several small kisses against him—your stomach ties into knots as you experience how gentle he was being with you.
Despite the dull aching pains that Bakugou could still perceive whenever he made broad movements with his arm, his hand steadily finds its way to reach up towards your neck, pressing you further against him to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue upon your lower lip.
When your tongue comes into contact with his, it’s tentative and quick. And then it happens a few more times before fully feel comfortable enough to full-on kiss Bakugou.
Your thought process was growing muddled. Not a clear premise came to mind as his bandaged hand trails to the small of your back and back up again.
With every sound or hum of approval that you made way past your lips, it fed Bakugou’s desire to satisfy both you and his needs even. His thumb smooths over the curve of your jaw, easing your nerves each time you shyly pull away attributable to the great intimacy that swirled between you both.
He chases your lips, fervent on returning your energy that you were relaying to him, back tenfold. He loves you. So fucking much, and he only hopes that his appreciation and devotion may reach you.
You choke on a tiny gasp. “Katsuki - ” And that’s when he feels it, right in his chest. It’s as if he has been jump-started back to life, his heart quite literally skipping a beat at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips. It was adorable, and he wanted to hear you like that again. Say his name like that again, on loop without end.
Fuck.
With adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breathing was starting to grow laboured now, and you decide to break the kiss before things can escalate and before you miss your train.
Pulling away from Bakugou, the traces of confidence that you once had prior to the kiss have all but flung itself out the window, completely gone now. “I’ll, uhm -” You stammer over your words, brain trying to compose a proper sentence in spite of your current dazed state. “I’ll be back to see you again, with the others.”
With how flustered and scatterbrained you were acting, it stroked Bakugou’s ego beyond belief. A wicked smile threatens to split upon his face, but he bites it down along with his greed to ask for one more kiss before you go. “Tomorrow,” he affirms, flicking his eyes back towards the TV—an entirely new show publicized on its screen.
You hoist yourself up from the bed and stand to your feet, ignoring how your knees almost buckle. “Right,” you say. No fucking way were you this beat up over making out with your own boyfriend, for crying out loud- you thought as you wander towards the door, almost taking out one of the monitors in your trail.
Sliding the door open you step out, but you poke your head back in, stalling a bit so that you could look at the blonde for the last time that day. “But until then, get well soon, okay?”
Bakugou’s eyes stay glued to the screen, trying to distract himself from how damn sweaty his palms were, that or how he could feel the beat of his heart pick up in tempo. Its incessant pounding was all too much for him.
It’s so stupid how whipped he found himself to be nowadays. “I know,” he dismisses, a bit all too quickly. He wants your ass out before you have a chance to glance at the heart monitor he was wired up to.
Fortunately enough for him, you don’t. You wave and close the door behind you, your smile being the last thing he sees.
With the coast clear, Bakugou throws himself back onto his mountain of pillows. “Shit,” he curses, panting out a sigh of relief seconds after you were gone.
That was amazing, you were amazing, he thought, recounting the kiss. He swipes his palms against his sheets, being sure to get rid of any nitroglycerin that may linger to activate his quirk successfully.
Bakugou can’t stress how much he’s aching for nightfall to come, knowing that he would be one sleep from getting to see you again, and again, and again, until he would finally be let free.
But until then, as you had said, he had to heal.
And with the knowledge of you being around whenever he needed you the most, Bakugou was most definitely on the bright path to a speedy recovery.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha x reader#mha imagine#bnha imagine#bnha scenario#original#cress to charlize for snagging this screencap from a twt thread mwah
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Stories of Paris
Part 4
Part One Part Three AO3
Masterlist
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Damian was unhappy with the fact that with ‘strangers’ in *his* house their nightly activities would have to carefully navigated. His father nor Pennyworth had not explicitly said anything about it, but he assumed it was because they all knew what was expected. So, being told to line up in the entrance hall by his father went down like a lead balloon.
His pout turned in widening eyes of shock as he witnessed the tall wiry young woman (and a large man he supposed) exiting the car. SHE was his father’s babysitter. This was who oversaw the European branch of W.E. The person who owned the largest portion of shares of W.E (after the Wayne family that is). He was doomed. Damain watched as his father soften as he saw the woman.
“Mari! You never seem to age!” he exclaimed as she gracefully walked up to him and into his embrace.
“Mon cherie! It’s miraculous isn’t it,” she drew back slightly to look over his shoulder, “I see you have taken found family comment to the extreme, but I suppose you were never one to do things in half measures. It’s good to be back here after so long”
Looking at her like he was a child with pleading eyes, “You are staying here, right?”
With a gentle smile with a smirking edge, “Yes. If I tried to leave for a hotel, I’ll end up having the shadows watching me all night. Plus, this place always did feel like my home away from home.”
Damian glancing at his supposed siblings to see that they were also in shock. Probably not for the same reason. Panicking with it all, as he saw his father turn to introduce them to the woman, Damian drew his katana and aimed it at her.
“YOU were fathers' babysitter!!! But... what... you’re younger than him!!!! .... You’re the Grand Lady Guardian... I *refuse* to return.”
Damian vaguely recognised his name being shouted at him, but all his attention was on the Grand Lady Guardian of the Miraculous who stood, rolling her eyes, before him. He could feel her power radiating off, surrounding them all.
“Petit Tresor. I’m not taking you back there. Did you not learn anything from my teachings? Did you not learn to read between the lines? About looking deeper than the surface. You are with *your* found family. THEY are what is important. Bruce may have picked up a lot of my unhealthy habits about vigilantism, but he made a point of understand a good support network and the importance of chosen family. Despite how he enacts the teachings.”
The Monkey with her came to her shoulder and raised his eyebrow at Damian. He finally understood why he was always her bodyguard now rather than the Cat, being that he was her husband.
“You can stand down Petit Tresor. League and Court business will *not* be found here. The League know what will happen if they cross the Court, and I made it very clear after our last encounter when they tried to manipulate us to their advantage.”
Damian assessed the woman before him as he withdrew his katana from her and starting to become aware of the others around him again.
“Why has he got a chaos shard within him Bruce?” The monkey growled looking at him with a dangerous glint in his eye.
Everyone in the entrance hall was frozen in shock and panic. What was meant to be a happy reunion had been derailed but now, suddenly, somehow gained an even sharper edge. Marinette and her husband were aware of their nightly capers, and they also knew of the League, they were involved in something similar and aware of chaos shards.
Damian watched as his father gulped as he looked at the Monkey and the Guardian. It wasn’t often his father showed fear, but it was clear on his face as she arched her eyebrow at him. His siblings all looked on in surprise and uncertain of what to expect. Only Pennyworth and Todd seemed to be handling the situation with any sense of calmness. Surprising for Todd...
“Mari... his mother... the league...”
At the mention of the league the Guardians eye twitch so subtly you’d hardly notice it if not trained and with a minute flicker of her hand, the Monkey flipped his phone out and was walking out back outside to call someone... Damian straining his ears heard Peg and plan 42c being mentioned by the Monkey to whoever he had called.
“They were warned. Tsk, Assassin’s bullheadedness. Kim will sort this out for me for the present moment and we will discuss healing at a later point. Anyway, mon cherie, you were about to introduce me to your children. Petit Tresor I know, and I believe that that is Jason, mon rêveur, in the background though he has grown so much since our last meeting. So, I could guess everyone else, but why don’t you continue?”
The Guardian stated as if the topic of what just happened was over, much to Damian’s surprise. He sheafed his katana but still was wary of the woman and slightly in awe. He had a feeling that the chaos and downfall of his grandfather may have due to her in some way. Slight fear and dread for his mother was building as well. He finally starting to understand the reason for her over protectiveness when she taught him in the league now.
“Right. Mari, this is Dick, Jason who you already met in person? Cass and alongside her Duke, Tim who you meet briefly in the W.E. meeting the other month, Steph who has wormed her way into the family and Damian you who’ve also already met?”
With a polite cough drawing attention to himself, Alfred spoke. “Perhaps, instead of having a mother’s meeting in the entrance hall, we retreat to the drawing room where we can have some refreshments. I am sure that Ms Marinette and Master Kim are exhausted from their travels. It is most unbecoming to stand around loitering, wouldn’t you agree Master Bruce?”
Bruce muttered something as his ears started to tinge red, Marinette turned to Alfred and smiled as she drew him into a hug while Bruce collected himself.
“Yes, right, that sounds like a fantastic idea Alfred. Mari, shall we?”
Bruce offered her an arm which she elegantly took as the took off in the direction of the drawing room delving into conversation with Bruce leaving behind a shocked collection on children in the hall. Alfred slipped off to prepare the refreshments.
Damian cringed as Dick exclaimed, “YOU GUYS KNOW HER?!?!?!!” which echoed around the manor as he finally processed what had just happened.
______________________________________________
Alfred smiled as the atmosphere within the Manor shifted over the last few weeks. It now had a different air about it. Master Bruce became less sullen and slightly less repressed under Marinette’s watch and the Manor started to feel lighter again.
Alfred had found great amusement when he stumbled in on Master Kim lecturing Master Bruce on being dense especially the “I know I’m dense but kwami Bruce! You’re worse than me realising all the competitions I got Mare rigged into was because I wanted to impress her! Let’s start at the beginning, ok?!”.
He hoped that Master Kim might be able to knock a bit of sense into his wayward charge. He knew Ms Marinette, though full of good intentions wouldn’t be able to with Master Bruce’s strange ability to pick up on the wrong message being given.
The highlight of the week was when he entered the family living room to find all his grandchildren looking pale as Master Bruce acted semi child-like in front of Ms Marinette. It was a delight to see Bruce act like the child that he knew he was reawakened again. Even if it terrified the grandchildren.
The whole family discovered that Bruce had been very selective of the stories and information that he had told them about Marinette. She had taken great delight telling them all about what teenage Bruce really was like.
About the time Bruce had a fan induced panic attack on meeting the Jagged Stone. Alfred was slightly aware of something happened but not the details.
About the time Bruce decided to practice parkour in the Manor gardens and ended up stuck halfway up the side of the Manor unable to climb up further or climb down. Alfed was positive he was unaware that Marinette joined him and had to coach Bruce down.
About the series of times that Bruce attempted to prove to Alfred that he had ‘outgrown the kitchen ban’ and had ‘observed Mari’s baking skills sufficiently’ to be able to try again for only the attempts to go south fast. Alfred grimaced at the memories that that bought up. He was glad that he’d got a good working deal with local kitchen fitters and suppliers given the number of fires.
It became a daily breakfast occurrence that Bruce mortified Marinette in his outfit for the day. The breakfast entertainment became watching Marinette tear into his fashion choice of the day, drag up some past clothing or costume disaster. She ended up moaning that he had learnt nothing from her rantings about clothes over the years and stare forlornly into her coffee cup. It was providing the bat boys a wealth of black mail material that Alfred had to on numerous occasions reel Marinette from her tangents.
The only time he let her completely go to town with was letting her regale to everyone about Bruce’s dramatic and insistent argument on fighting crime in Lyca, wearing pants on top of tights and with a cape, that he really insisted that he didn’t need to use Kevlar (that decision didn’t last beyond a few training sessions and one patrol night). Alfred was pleased with her ability to rein that disaster in quickly.
It was in the comfort of the kitchen away from the antics that happened Alfred mused and reflected on his notional niece's visit. Alfred wished he had thought to bring Marinette over sooner as he witnessed that fraught relationships between the Waynes soften. Issues didn’t disappear but Marinettes presence, and ability due to dealing with Akuma, helped mitigate situations which typically would have blown up. Kim always by her side would help soothe, distract, or explain to the puzzled Bruce the techniques Marinette was using to stop the escalation.
She’d slowly began charming and connecting with his grandchildren. Be it by giving Tim pointers on how to manage W.E board members effectively and playing video games. It was eerily like how she warmed Bruce up to her.
By Sitting quietly reading with Jason or playing chess and talking in metaphors about life, death and balance. Slowly having ‘healing sessions to calm the pit madness’ with meditation and grounding sessions.
With Damian she seemed to remind him of alternate grounding techniques which she’d shown him in the league. They seemed to spend time talking in hushed whispers about other stuff that Alfred wasn’t currently privy too.
Duke was with poetry and music. Cass with dance and gymnastics, silent subtle conversations occurred but seeing Cass smile and edge towards being more tactile made Alfred glow with warmth inside. Steph and Marinette commanded the kitchen numerous times baking pastries, waffles and other treats.
Dick took the longest to warm up to the woman, having heard and known about her for over a deacade but never met it was understandable. Alfred wpould never knew what Marinette had done but one day the hostility and coldness disappeared. A joy, childlike smile appeared on Dicks face every time she was in the room, and he’d follow her round like a loat puppy. Watching and mimicking her techniques to calm his brothers down.
How his grandchildren acted with Marinette in the activities brought echoes of memories of her with Bruce to the forefront of Alfred’s mind.
Sighing, in the short time the Manor felt warm and like a family, a home should feel like. Much like before his friends’ death. Schooling his emotions, Alfred set about to serve the family and Parisians last dinner together.
______________________________________________
Bruce tried not to sulk. Tried not to revert to the mind set of when Marinette originally disappeared physically from his life. Especially in front of his children but it was hard. She somehow always managed to take the overwhelming pressure away from him, like he could breathe and be.
Alfred was his father, in all the ways that counted, but the burden of death and saving the world was something Marinette understood at a deeper more personal level. Having her here made it feel safe to feel, that he would always be caught. That she would save him from the consuming darkness. She was the light in the world shining out in the Gotham gloom.
As expected, his children adored her in their unique ways. Following her around like little ducks scrabbling for crumbs of knowledge and titbits of information. Bruce lips twitched as he witnessed them behaving much like he used to. Taking the gems’ she passed on to them and ferreting them away much like he did.
“Master Bruce, I expect better behaviour this leaving gathering than our previous party, please.”
With Alfred’s comments Bruce gave into the feeling of pouting. Why deny how he felt toward the situation where he wasn’t in control. He pointedly ignored the stares that his children were giving him. Again.
“Mon tresor! It’s not like you aren’t going to see or speak to me again. We speak regularly as it is. It’s not the same as it was last time. You know this.”
“But Mari, it's nice having you here. This is your home.”
“Is he always like this Mare, Cupcake? How is it that all the kid’s you’ve looked after end up demanding you live with them?”
Bruce choked at Kim’s statement and the Wayne clan burst into laughter. Alfred let a small smirk grace his face.
“Oui, Mon Amour, He wasn’t happy last time I left at all. Be grateful I learnt to resist kitten eyes or we’d never have reconnected. Manon doesn’t count. She’s practically family as well with how close Maman and Nadja are.”
“What about Elle, Etta and Chris? What about Ivan’s and Mylene’s sproglian? Fang? Jagged’s second round of terrors? Luka and Jules too really.”
“Hush, Mon Amour, circumstantial evidence.”
Bruce observed Kim stare at his wife in disbelief before waving his hand around the room.
“What about these then. Don’t give me that look Cupcake. I’m gonna end up needing to fight the whole batclan at this rate to get you on a plane with me! Maybe I should give Peg’s the heads up that I’ll need his help.”
“I can assure you Master Kim that you *both* are free to leave. The young master's understand that they cannot kidnap you. It would not be becoming of them OR look good for the company for the family to kidnap its own workers.”
Bruce and his family guiltily ducked their heads at Alfred’s comments. When Alfred turned away to start talking to Kim, Tim leant in close to Bruce to whisper to him.
“Do you think we have the power to move her to being director of North America rather than Europe? Mari would be closer then? Plus, the guy in charge isn’t all he’s cracked up to be so the board would likely approve it.”
Bruce stared at his son at the ingenious and simple solution and smiled, before ducking his head when Alfred pointedly looked his way.
“We’ll discuss that concept later.”
Bruce gave Tim a subtle nod as if he was approving the idea. Technically he was but Alfred didn’t need to know that. Nor did Kim really, as he would fight him if he found out and he’d rather not deal with an ex-olympian superhero, even when he pulled his punches they hurt far more than the average persons.
Bruce sat back into his seat and smiled as the conversation and chaos flowed around him. His whole family finally together and he cherished it. He knew it wasn’t going to last much longer with the impending flight looming but for now he had a potential and creative plan to work on. If he framed it right it could also become the prefect family bonding activity that both Marinette and Kim thought he needed to do more of outside of vigilantism. And if the end result was that she moved closer, well, that’s just an added bonus in his eyes.
With that in mind, Bruce joined in with the choas enjoying the moment with his complete family. Nothing could take this away from him.
Tag:
@neakco @corporeal-terrestrial @jayjayspixiepop @lady-bee-fechin @prettylittlebutterflie
#maribat#maribat au#ml crossover#ml x dc#mlb x dc#dc x ml#dc x mlb#marinette x bruce#marinette x alfred#platonic#found family#babysitting#marinette x jason#marinette x dick#marinette x tim#marinette x damian#all platonic#dickinette#jasonette#timari#damianette
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since i already did the killers, here’s the survivors reacting to their newest addition!
Yun-Jin & survivors headcanons
Dwight tries not to judge people too quickly, as his hands aren't exactly clean either. He doesn't really care what Yun-Jin did before, the problem is that she only looks after herself in trials. When his numerous attempts at friendly advice fall on deaf ears because she clearly doesn't regard him as a leader, Dwight kind of gives up on and hopes that she might come around one day.
Meg is instantly wary of Yun-Jin, her story not painting the producer in a good light at all. She’ll "accidentally” lead the killer to Yun-Jin in trials, doubly so if they're going against the Trickster, seeing it as fitting punishment for someone willing to turn to a blind eye to the atrocities the idol committed.
Claudette always tries to see the best in people, but after Yun-Jin leaves her to die on hook several times, the botanist realizes her trust in the other woman might be misplaced. Her own morals refuse to let her treat Yun-Jin different from the others, but it makes Claudette sad to know the producer most likely wouldn’t return the favor.
Jake is downright hostile, as the cutthroat nature of the business world was one of the main reasons he put his old life behind him. He's annoyed when some of the others try to force him to make friends with Yun-Jin just because they happened to be born in the same country.
Nea is both intrigued and cautious, fond of Yun-Jin's unapologetic attitude but not a fan of the way she essentially sold her soul to be a corporate pawn. She teaches the woman how to be a pain in the ass to any killer, but usually keeps her distance since Yun-Jin is clearly only looking after herself and Nea is not about to be caught in a bad spot without back-up.
Laurie is pissed. Upon hearing about the producer's connection to the Trickster, she goes off, accusing Yun-Jin of creating a murderer. Some of the others intervene—though don't necessarily disagree—but Laurie doesn’t budge on her stance.
Ace isn't blind to the parallels between his and Yun-Jin’s lives, having to play dirty in order to escape their less fortunate upbringings. He admires her extravagant fashion sense and always makes sure to compliment her outfits, happy to notice it makes her hold her head up higher after a rough trial.
Bill writes her off as a stuck-up rich kid that never had to face hardships, but is proven severely wrong when Yun-Jin shows to fare well even without the comfort of her penthouse. When he sees her making a fire and she mentions she had to learn how to keep warm when their heat was shut off, the contempt is gradually replaced by respect.
Feng is also somewhat of a lone wolf and doesn't care that Yun-Jin cares mostly about self-preservation. She'll tell the woman that they won't have any problems as long as she stays out of Feng’s way in trials. The two end up working well together, exchanging strategies on the best ways to split up and rush generators.
David isn't impressed by the producer’s appearance, thinking she's a spoiled brat that will throw a tantrum as soon as she chips a nail. Will tease her in trials, scoffing “Careful ya don't get blood on yer fancy jacket, princess”. She never takes the bait, instead opting to survive to the end and leave David to die on his first hook, giving him the finger from the safety of the exit gate. David sees it as a playful rivalry, though in reality the woman probably hates his guts.
Quentin is familiar with the guilt of creating a monster and instead of being angry at Yun-Jin, claims that this is her chance to make it right. He gets her to tell them everything she knows about the Trickster that might benefit them in trials. He's not that bothered by her refusal to work as a team, knowing it won't be long before she realizes she has to help others if she wants to survive.
Tapp has some very unfortunate flashbacks to his last case before he died, a psychopath and his accomplices making his life a living hell. And that's what he sees Yun-Jin as; an accomplice and enabler of the Trickster. He doesn't bother to hide his distrust, keeping a sharp eye on the woman as if expecting her to turn against them at any second.
Kate is initially put off by Yun-Jin's stuck-up attitude, having been forced to deal with her fair share of money-hungry producers. However, when they slowly get to know each other and the Korean mentions her own buried aspirations of being a musician, Kate recognizes their similarities; both of them just wanted to share their music with the world.
Adam attempts to make hesitant small talk about Seoul, trying to find common ground. However, when Yun-Jin only talks about Michelin-star restaurants and luxurious boutiques, Adam resigns himself to the fact that the woman has little interest in anything not revolving around money or music.
Jeff is a firm believer in live and let live and doesn't have anything against Yun-Jin despite the woman being his polar opposite in almost every way. He can tell the producer is surprised every time he strikes up casual conversation or offers to heal her in a trial, clearly not used to kindness from a stranger.
Jane is no stranger to being in the spotlight and doesn't approve of Yun-Jin's corrupt methods of navigating fame. She’s persistent in trying to get through to the producer, going out of her way to help the other in the hope that Yun-Jin will one day do the same.
Ash makes some good-natured jokes that Yun-Jin looks fancy compared to the rest of them. He doesn't care that some of the others think she's a bad person, he admires her gutsy attitude and doesn't treat her any different than others, one of the few who happily trade his life for hers in trials.
Nancy isn't as quick as most of the others to judge Yun-Jin. She's curious to know the whole story, and eventually understands why Yun-Jin made the decisions she did. They’re on neutral terms and occasionally exchange stories of their lives before, but Nancy swiftly learns that when they’re in a trial together, it’s every woman for herself.
Steve is a little starstruck, the K-pop producer’s extravagant appearance a far cry from the monotony of his small town. He can't help but try to impress her, doing stupid tricks in trials and pestering her about whether she thinks he would ever have a shot at stardom. As soon as he hears her artist name, he insists on addressing her as Magnum Opus, and even manages to get a smile for his efforts.
Yui doesn't give two shits about the woman’s questionable morals, instead thinking Yun-Jin is a badass for managing to do so well for herself against all odds. She's quick to welcome the producer to their group, and when questioned by the others, says that it would take a lot more than that for her to throw away the concept of sisterhood.
Zarina asks a lot of questions, curious about Yun-Jin's connection to the Trickster. It quickly becomes apparent that their morals clash horribly, and Zarina is appalled at the way the woman threw away integrity for corporate greed. She doesn’t trust Yun-Jins promises about making the killer pay, knowing people don’t change overnight.
Cheryl tries to give the benefit of the doubt, but as soon as Yun-Jin tries to boss her around in a trial, she withdraws into her shell. Cheryl has unresolved issues with women in power and isn't about to let Yun-Jin use her as a pawn in whatever game she's playing.
Felix can tell at first glance that he won't get along with the woman. Yun-Jin's gaudy outfits and arrogant attitude scream new money, reminding him of difficult clients he hated working with. He respects her drive for her job, but that's where their similarities end.
Élodie, having the freshest memory of what it's like to be the newest arrival in this terrifying realm, is the first to befriend Yun-Jin. Though they're from completely different worlds, both are mature enough to recognize the other's struggles, gradually forming a hesitant friendship.
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Jealous | Eita Semi x Reader
✧ Summary: You thought you were content with your relationship so far - Semi was your best friend and these past few years were some of the most memorable. But all of that quickly changes with some outside forces.
➳ Tags: Angst with a happy ending; some humor
Navigation
—xXxXxXxXxXx—
Four years ago, it would have been a strange sight to see you, an up-and-rising wing-spiker, sitting on the sideline of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team. Being the female team’s manager was nice, but just as ambiguous as the adjective. You sorely ached to be back as an active member on the court and you seemed to radiate that very thought throughout the schoolyear.
At the end of your first-year you were switched from official wing-spiker to sub-pinch server. That was a huge demotion in your eyes, but a position you would gladly accept now. You knees were deteriorating from overuse and it was only facilitated at the Spring Tournament during your first-year. A bad-land from a spike and you tore your ACL. From that injury, there was no going back. That took you off the regular team for the rest of the year, since your doctor recommended six-months of healing.
Torn ACL’s do not heal and you did not want to undergo surgery, since it would only prolong your time away from the court. That decision was terrible in itself, but you reasoned that your volleyball career would end after high-school. So the long-term implications did not affect your future in sports since you did not envision one.
But your career ended sooner than you thought.
You did not seek the advice of the athletic trainer or even your coach and attempted to do the same work-outs as the rest of the team. And for a good amount of time, they bought your act. It seemed you were a miraculous healer, despite the urgings of both your parents and physicians. Dates set aside for physical therapy were skipped and you opted to make yourself useful to the team.
But you were doing just the opposite.
The women of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team had their eyes set on nationals and it seemed that you were on the right track. The team earned their spot in the finals of the Interhigh Tournament, garnering attention against Niiyama High. You were set to serve, aiming directly for the serious face of Amanai Kanoka. Mid-stride, something did not feel right and you landed, not on your feet, but on your front-side.
You looked up from your prone form on the ground to see the horrified faces of your teammates and opponents. The usually loud section of Shiratorizawa’s student body was stunned silent and everyone’s eyes were fixated on your figure. First aid was able to hoist your motionless body onto a stretcher and time seemed to momentarily stop. You could still distinctly recall the perturbed faces of your friends and family. In that very instant, you felt your heart crack and silently whispered goodbye to your beloved sport.
Your torn ACL developed into a long-lasting chronic deficiency and you were slowly losing control in knee movement.
Pity.
That was the only word to describe the certain expression other people gave you after the fact. Volleyball held a large amount of prominence on campus and the fact that nearly everyone saw your fall – it was humiliating. You were taken completely off the team and instead ushered into surgery and rehabilitation for your knee.
Many of your teammates attempted to show compassion and understanding for your situation, but they would never truly understand. You had accepted, deep in your heart, that even if you had undergone surgery early your knee would continually depreciate. It was only a matter of time.
The coach could understand your reasoning, but cursed your insolence. It hurt her that you desperately wanted to help the team, to the point of sacrificing your future. If she had known, she would have taken you off the starting-line in an instant. But there was no second chance, no benefit in asking what if’s.
The previous manager of the women’s team was leaving with graduation and you inherited her spot. On more than one occasion, you wondered if staying on as manager would really help you emotionally. It was your own personal hell, watching your previous teammates engage in volleyball and never getting the chance to join.
Graduation liberated many of your friends and majority of the people who observed your deterioration first-hand were gone. New volleyball teams were forming and you missed most of their names. Without the use of it on the court, it was harder to connect and really converse with the fresh first-years. You knew the names of the promising few – Goshiki Tsutomu was a hard one to miss. There were also two exemplary female wing-spikers, but Shiratorizawa’s team ran both deep and wide.
With all this distance, you would often miss much of the drama from those outside your year. Many of the other volleyball players made an effort not to bar you and updated you daily on news. Tendou was the number one instigator and you would often hear a warped version of the gossip from him first.
None of the male players were in the same class, ironically. There was one in each class and you shared yours with Eita Semi for the past three years. You were the closest to the mom of the group and he would usually clarify new gossip to you.
The groupchat shared amongst both the men’s and women’s volleyball team usually went ignored in your pocket. Once in a while, you would contribute a dank meme or comment. But for now, you tended to silently witness the drama unfold. Amongst the newly minted third-years was a groupchat just for you guys, both the girls and boys teams, which was the one you and Tendou seemed to haunt.
As such, you were texting away in the middle of class. You sat with Semi, who was diligently writing notes and following along with the teacher. Neither had yet to see you, but no matter who it was, they would pluck the phone right out of your hands.
GC: We’re the captains now. <(￣︶￣)>
12:43 From:s u f f e r i n g (。□°）
I’m just saying, we can fight him.
12:43 From: Ushiwaka-sama
I would prefer to leave the setter intact
12:43 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ）
Are we ignoring the problem of Goshiki????
12:43 From: Captain-Sama!
He’s a wing-spiker not a middle-blocker. You don’t have to worry about your spot
12:43 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ）
ExCuSe youuuuuuuuuuu
12:44 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ)
I wouldn’t be afraid even if he was
It was severely clear to all volleyball members that your spot as a regular was never safe (unless of course your name started with a U and ended with -shiwaka.)
The coaches of either team were relentless in their words and would drop a team member if they showed enough weakness. And you would not be surprised even in the slightest if the essential vice-captain of the men’s team was benched for the newfound first-year. The anomaly of Goshiki Tsutomu could be found in the fact that he seemed to be the complete foil of his older teammates. Despite this, he showed the most promise and you almost wanted to bet money that he would be a regular by the Spring High Tournament.
12:44 From: Ushiwaka-sama
Your numerable amount of question marks show your lie.
12:44 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ）
Why don’t you shut the fuck up
12:44 From: Ushiwaka-sama
But I didn’t say anything
12:45 From: Captain-Sama!
LMAO but seriously Soekawa has nothing to worry about
12:45 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□°）
Even if he does I think we can take the coconut-head.
12:45 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ）
O mi god good one (f/n) I’m about to set his nickname as that
12:46 From: Okaasan/Eita
Why don’t you take your own advice and stfu salami
12:46 From: Captain-Sama
S C R E A M I N G
Okaasan/Eita has changed “Guess Monster (▼へ▼メ)” ‘s nickname to, “the most tender Salami”.
12:46 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° )
I can’t breathe
12:47 From: Ushiwaka-sama
Lol
True to your word, you were laughing with almost no control while Semi was trying not to have his smile break his stern façade. You covered your mouth to stifle the giggles and the fact that the literal volleyball idiot wrote “Lol” you had no doubt he was laughing as well a few classrooms over.
Those in your immediate vicinity subtly turned to look at you and you had to pretend to bend-down to pick up a pencil to hide your laughter. You thanked Semi for the umpteenth time for grabbing these seats in the back that were far from the teacher’s reproach.
Once you were settled, Semi commented, “The aim of my remark was to calm you all down.”
It was hard to focus in class usually, but after a morning like that you were done. English was your forte and you had no problems with the subject, even in an advanced class focused on the western world’s literature. The Great Gatsby was your shit.
13:34 From: Captain-Sama
I have detention now Eita. I hope youre happy
13:34 From: Okaasan/Eita
What did I do????
13:34 From: Captain-Sama
I literally started screaming at the name
13:34 the most tender Salami
At least someone else is suffering too
13:34 the most tender Salami
My ass is getting blasted on the shared gc help
13:35 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° )
Hey remember that time you locked me in the men’s locker room
13:35 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° )
Karma beyotch
13:35 From: the most tender Salami
LMAo thanks for that reminder ugh that was the funniest day I almost feel better
You frowned at your phone and Semi noticed your reaction, “That’s your fault. You brought it up.”
The two of you were done with class for the rest of the day and were casually lounging around his dorm room. His roommate, Reon Ōhira, was in class 4 and had a different schedule from the two of you.
You were laid-out across his bed, backpack carelessly thrown on the floor against his desk. Semi was previously occupied with whatever he does on his laptop, but now he was catching-up with the groupchat. This was incredibly normal and it was almost second-nature for you to lounge in his room. Your roommate, the captain of the women’s team, often noted this with certain intentions.
It was no secret that you and Semi were something.
You flirted nonchalantly and he had an overall friendly personality — it seemed entirely natural. Your relationship had blurred lines and no clear mutual understanding. The two of you could hold hands and he could get away with the occasional kiss on your cheek. And if anyone asked if you were in a relationship, you would say no. Semi would do the same.
There was one occasion during your second-year that pushed Semi’s buttons to the point where he made your relationship known. You could count the amount of female third-years on your hand and still have fingers to spare. This, in Tendou’s eyes, left barely any possible suitors that he would seriously be interested in. And of all people, the eyes of the guess monster settled on you.
Tendou was a somewhat of a Kuudere, in your words. He was not cold, but incredibly blunt and cared on the inside. He had the type of attitude that would not seem to care if their crush noticed them. Instead, he took it a step further, to compliment said crush to other people and claim not to like them. And because he was so damn loud and incredibly obvious, the other male volleyball players seemed to notice and their gazes would casually linger on you.
You would dismiss their sudden interest as only aesthetic-deep and not take any other crushes seriously, especially Tendou. His crush bounced from girl to girl and this was a well-known fact, simply because he could admire a good looking person and not get emotionally attached. However, this was easier when the girl was in his class and not as immediate as on the volleyball team.
Tendou would highlight the specific beauty of your smile or hair casually and the other third-years would calmly agree. Semi could see it all. He was in a private groupchat with those boys and you were the topic of their conversation more than once. He would see the friendly pat on the head from Reon as he complimented your cross-spike. Or how you would converse with Ushijima and his eyes would loiter even after you walked away. Or how you would smile brightly at Yunohama’s jokes.
Tendou and Ushijima’s shared dorm was secretly party central, the later surprisingly okay with socializing on a daily basis. But you normally hung-out with Semi, in his room. And recently you had been getting more and more invitations to their room. He was hella annoyed and would often drag you right after class to chill with him instead.
This did not change the fact that Tendou was aggressive and this led to the day of Semi’s snapping. Tendou was waiting outside of your classroom and once he spotted you, he stepped right between you and Semi to sling a lazy arm across your shoulders.
“Finally we are graced with Friday. No homework to worry about for tomorrow and even better, it’s a rest day for volleyball!” Tendou was narrating the day as the three of you walked, Semi pushed all the way to the side. “Shall we let go of our inhibitions to celebrate this rare occasion?”
You lightly attempted to push off his hold on you, but he did not budge. “Sorry Tendou, not exactly in the mood to go off campus tonight.”
“That’s perfectly alright with me,” He deflected the rejection, “Waka is leaving tomorrow morning so we can chill in the dorm.” Certain ideas were undoubtedly forming in the minds of two growing teenage boys and Semi did not hide his disapproval. Instead, he sighed loudly and had the urge to grab you right out of Tendou’s grasp.
“What do you plan on doing with just me tonight, Tendou?” You teased.
He only laughed and ignored your question, “So how about it?"
“I prefer to get my homework done before the weekend, so that’s what I’ll be preoccupied with tonight.” You answered and Semi smirked at your response.
He bristled at your retort and kept pushing, “Well. I know you like that cheesecake place downtown—”
“Can’t you take a hint, Tendou?” Semi asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry, but once I lay my eyes on a beautiful girl there’s no way I’ll let her go.” Tendou affirmed and tightened his hold on your shoulders.
You blushed at his confidence, “Ha. Well, determination is a dangerous thing.” Semi noted your flushed appearance and the fact that you had not pulled away from his hold.
No way, not on his watch.
Your flustered looks and affectionate embraces were meant for him and him alone.
Was Tendou’s unwavering resolve really getting to you? The red-head would constantly shower you with compliments and it was only a matter of time that it would infiltrate your brain. Meanwhile, he would offer you vague responses and a sparse amount of sentiments.
With his mind made-up, Semi grabbed you right out of Tendou’s filthy arms and into his own. “Sorry. But she’ll be busy with me.” You were nestled underneath his neck and his arm was wrapped lightly around your waist.
The message he was sending was clear and if it was not, Semi sure as hell would be ready to provide more.
Instead of being heart-broken or defensive, Tendou immediately turned the situation around, “Busy doing what?” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“Staying the hell away from you.” Semi sassily replied and attempted to walk away with you in his grasp.
Tendou took the message in stride and went further to ship the two of you together for the rest of the schoolyear. The others must have received the message and they laid off from their previous flirting. Well, most of them. The only person unaffected by Semi’s wrath was the great volleyball idiot himself. But it was generally understood that he never really knew the implications of his actions.
Since then, there was no real progression in your public and private relationship with Semi. You hit every milestone with stride: prolonged hugs, kisses on the cheek, and even a sleepover when your roommate was away with her boyfriend. You were happy with how things were now and you feared if you talked about it, it would end. With no real reason to address the subject, the two of you continued with your relationship. He was there when you were sad and you surely did the same for him.
The second-year of high-school was your turning point. Your first-year friendship could be described as average, simply two members of the same game. Classmates and admirers of volleyball, you were cordial for ordinary reasons. After your injury, it was hard to personally connect with anyone.
But Semi could do what the others could not. Your second-year came with the introduction of Kenjirō Shirabu. He was a salty little douche and before the Spring High Tournament he was the official setter for the men’s volleyball team. The teammates that Semi had fostered and grown with since middle school were suddenly dragged away from him. And there was nothing he could do. His best was suddenly not good enough and he fell short to a first-year.
You connected on a level that the others could not understand. Being cut from a team was like being abandoned, but it was no one’s fault but your own. And that fact hurt more than anything. Try as you might, there was nothing either of you could really do to regain your prominence.
You found comfort in one another and it was highly noted by the other team members.
“What’s with the face?” Semi asked, noting your saddened facial expressions.
You paused and then sat-up, “We’re graduating this year.”
“Just because we’re leaving this school, doesn’t mean we’ll stop being friends.” Semi comforted. Friends… That word would continue to haunt you. You were friends, incredibly close with few secrets between the two of you. Your relationship was once in a lifetime and soon there would be more than emotional barriers separating you two.
It was not until the autumn formal that you recognized first-hand the complications of desire.
Someone asked Semi to the formal. And it had not been you. But he still said yes.
You heard this secondhand from Reon, a week after the girl had initially asked. Did he hesitate? Did he even think of you? Did he… have feelings for the girl?
She was someone unrecognizable from Ushijima’s class and you had spotted her after having lunch with just the ace. Social Media was a big thing and of course Shiratorizawa Academy had a team-spirit page that highlighted all sorts of shit. And of course, there were the posts about who was going with who to the formal. ((promposals cough))
You were unsure if you had ever seen her before. But after noticing her, you seemed to see her everywhere. She was beautiful in every way you were not – incredibly feminine and keeping up with her appearance. Flowing blonde hair that went past her elbows and she seemed to always sport a dress. Semi was not distant in any way and it seemed like he was never going to bring it up with you unless you took the initiative.
You asked once or twice about the girl and he waved off that she was very pretty and very determined. She seemed to exceedingly fancy him and would not take no for an answer. And he had no real reason to say no. No real reason. Your heart ached at his simple words. If you were no “real reason,” then you sure were not going to continue this way.
There was a month until the formal and that meant an entire month with having this loom over your head. Semi never indicated he wanted more than friendship and it seemed that was not enough for him. So you pulled away. This was hard since you sat together, but it was definitely different than usual.
You would brush off his invitations to hang-out, which was increasingly hard since you literally spent every waking day together. It hurt you, but it was a good wake-up call. If he did not think more of you, then it was about time you lessened this heavy dependence you had on him. It was an eventual problem that he would find a significant other, but now it was finally before you. You were no masochist and distanced yourself from the constant sorrow. On one occasion, you replied, “Why don’t you hang-out with your date instead?” It was petty and low, but true. You were being replaced. Why would he hang-out with you if he’s got another female on his line?
You addressed this with Reon, but he defended Semi saying that the two were only friends. Semi agreed on a whim, with no real intention of dating the girl or progressing as far as he had with you. But you denied this and stopped talking about it with the two altogether.
You were gleaning out the window, ignoring your lunch and sitting with the guess monster and his ace. “Stop frowning, (F/N)-chan. If it bothers you that much just talk to him.”
“Why should I even bother? He already made up his mind.” You pushed your already minute lunch away.
“Wow, giving up already?” Tendou mocked.
“It’s been three years. If he wanted to do something he would have.”
“You’re wrong, (F/N)-chan.” Salami countered, “Semi has already done something. He told me off, that’s for sure.”
“That was so long ago.”
“What have you done?” Ushijima interjected.
“I’ve never accepted any other man’s affection - not dates, chocolates, late-night talks.” You outwardly groaned and nearly slammed your head on the desk, “I’m about to graduate high-school and I’ve never been kissed.”
Even Tendou laughed at this fact, “Wow, (F/N)! I’d be willing to volunteer.”
You lifted your head to glare at him, “That is unnecessary.” Ushijima stated. “You have proven a great loyalty, it seems.”
“Great.” You mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm, “And this worked out so well for me.”
“It is a rare quality, one that I surely admire you for having.” You sat-up completely, back straight from surprise and eyes glued to the auburn-haired ace that continued eating like his words meant nothing. Even Tendou paused from his causal demeanor to narrow his eyes at Ushijima.
A grin reappeared on his face, one that surely spelt trouble, and he proposed, “Why don’t you two go to the formal together?”
You both paused and shared momentary eye-contact. His eyes appeared mostly impassive, but you had spent enough time with him to notice his questioning gaze. His left eyebrow was slightly upturned and you tilted your head in question.
“I cannot see an immediate reason not to.”
“Me neither."
“Then it’s settled!” Tendou got up to stand by the middle of the table, flippantly placing his hands on both of your shoulders, “Let’s send a post to the Shiratorizawa page so it’s official. Ah so cute, Waka and (F/N) at the dance together!”
Ushijima commented that was extremely superfluous, why should anyone care/know? You reasoned the same way, but Tendou claimed that it was not official until it was on the social media page. You both shrugged and prepared to pose for a picture over lunch.
“No, no. This looks totally lame.” He ended up dragging the both of you outside, in the middle of the quad during common hour. Tons of students were walking by and watched as Tendou modeled the two of you.
He settled on putting Ushijima’s hand on your waist and angled your front facing the ace. Your head was turned back towards the camera and you had a hand on his chest. This position was entirely intimate and even the dense Ushijima commented this, but Tendou waved it off. You wondered what crazy things Tendou could get his roommate to do.
Tendou was having a blast, taking multiple pictures from different angles on his phone. You wondered: how good could it possibly look? You were sporting your Shiratorizawa uniform and Ushijima was in his usual track-suit. You could hear the whispering and it seemed that posting the picture would be redundant, almost everyone saw the two of you posing like this!
The three of you returned back to your lunch table and upon sitting down, you received a brand new notification.
[Instabook] Slide to unlock and see new tagged post
Looks like the two most elusive volleyball bachelor/ette’s have snagged each other! Be sure to check-out this cute couple at the fall formal! Tagged: Ushijima Wakatoshi and (F/N)(L/N)
Attached: 1.jpg, 2.jpg, 3.jpg, 4.jpg
“Was it really necessary to send in all those pictures, Tendou?” You asked.
“They tell us to send multiple and they’ll pick the best one! Whoever the account owner is, they are the ones who decided on showing all of those!”
“But four?”
“I sent in ten. And four is the max they can post, so they must really like you guys.” Tendou teased. Almost instantly, you were getting more and more notifications.
People you had never met before were liking the post and it was embarrassing at how much attention this was garnering! You weren’t even dating! Your phone was constantly vibrating from Instabook and you muted the app entirely – you’d return to it later at the end of the day. Sadly, the volleyball team was quick to react too.
GC: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨
14:57 From: Captain-Sama!
um wtf is this
Attached: THEpost.jpg, receipts.jpg, wtf.jpg
14:57 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )
Not the otp but I still ship it
14:57 From: Coconut-head
Senpai’s gf is so cute (๑꒪▿꒪)*
14:57 From: the most tender Salami
You can thank me
14:57 From: Captain-Sama!
y tf would I do that
14:57 From: the most tender Salami
I got the ship sailing
14:57 From: the most tender Salami
And got usiwaka to ask (f/n)-chan
14:58 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩
And u stil cant get urself a date??
14:58 From: the most tender Salami
I’m going to ignore that and show off this CUTE COUPLE
Attached: lunchdate.jpg, imthechaperone.jpg
Tendou was showcasing photos he literally took then and there, of you and Ushijima conversing over lunch. It could be viewed entirely as innocent, but after the previous posts it seemed to imply something. Tendou noticed that Semi had seen the chat already, but had yet to respond.
14:58 From: Captain-sama!
Are they dating???????????????
14:59 From: the most tender Salami
Nah, but theyre too busy to respond to the chat ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
14:59 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩
OH SHIT
14:59 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )
WE’RE NOT OLD ENOUGH ( ಠ - ಠ )
15:00 From: Captain-Sama!
I WANT PICS
Reon and Semi were discussing the subject in the comfort of their private dorm. It was clear to the tan boy that you were bothered by Semi agreeing to go to the formal and not even telling you! It was only now that Semi was understanding this and he looked to his roommate for guidance.
“I already told that girl I’ll go with her…” Semi was attempting to sort his thoughts, “But I don’t want to hurt (F/N).”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Reon interjected, “You already did that.”
Semi burrowed his head into his hands, “Does (F/N) think I’m replacing her? She means so much to me, that’s absurd.”
“You didn’t exactly tell her that you were going to formal with someone else.” Reon explained, “How would you feel if your closest friend was going to an intimate dance with a date that you never met before?” Semi massaged his temples further, feeling the oncoming migraine that usually came associated with a certain second-year setter.
His thoughts were unclear and the constant vibrating of both their phones were not helping his mental state, “What is happening?”
Reon browsed through his phone first and frowned, “Well. It seems a certain someone’s affection never fully disappeared from last year.”
Semi narrowed his eyes and picked up his phone to see your face splayed across the screen. A smile graced your face and it was clear who was the cause behind it. Ushijima’s smile was rare and came at random moments, but it was encased in memory through the photograph. He almost screamed.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Semi threw his phone on the bed before collapsing face first into it.
“On the chat, it seems Tendou was the one who pushed them together.” Semi punched his pillow at the mention of the brash Salami. “And they’re not dating, just going to the dance together.”
Semi let out a string of incomprehensible words into his comforter. “This is Ushiwaka. He’s not like Tendou, with the endless list of crushes. He’s genuine all the time and complimented (F/N) without hesitation. As in, I’m fucked.”
Reon was inwardly rolling his eyes, it was only when Semi was entirely comfortable with the other person or very enraged that he let loose his short-tempered side. And it seemed Semi was both, right at this moment.
You broke off from Tendou and Ushijima to retreat back to your dorm room. Ushijima agreed to have dinner with you later, in hopes of coordinating your outfit for the formal. It seemed the post of the two of you was the most popular on the entire page and you would have to dress to impress the audience.
Upon entering, you were ambushed with questions from both your roommate, Reon, and strangely Shirabu.
“(F/N), what the fuck.”
“You better not hinder his abilities as ace!”
“Did you just come from lunch with him?”
You blinked at the assault and then sat-down. “One, we’re not dating. So I will not be a distraction for him, I assure you. This is mostly Tendou’s doing anyway.”
Shirabu nodded at the explanation and then walked towards the door, stopping to put a hand on your shoulder first, “Good enough. Have a good time then.” And with that he walked out of the room. Shirabu was a special type of kid, everyone knew. At least he had the best intentions at heart?
“Seriously?” Your roommate and captain of the female volleyball team asked, showing off her impeccable vernacular.
“Come on.” You threw your bag to the side of your bed.
“How did this even start?” She sat down on her own bed as Reon rested on your desk chair.
“I was talking about y’know, what’s been bothering me recently. And Tendou suggested that there was no real reason to stop Ushijima and me from going to the formal together.”
“And what? Ushijima just asked on the spot after that?” She asked.
“Yeah, pretty much. And then Tendou made a big spectacle of it by making us pose for a picture.”
“A top three ace in the entire country and 190 centimeter of pure man, and you are the one to have tamed him. Holy shit, good job.” She commended.
Your eyes nearly fell out of your head and Reon could not stop his sudden coughing fit. “We are not dating.”
“Just the pure fact that Ushijima had no reason to not ask you, wow.” She commented. “If it was any other girl he would have scroll of reasons that would hit the floor with a speech to go along with it.”
“There’s no way.” You countered.
“Do you honestly think there are no implications?” Reon asked.
“Yeah, if anything he’s doing it as a favor.” You answered offhandedly, realizing your mistake instantly. It was natural to speak candidly to the two. However, it was clear that Reon would die defending Semi and thus you stopped speaking to him previously about the situation.
“A favor?” He asked, just as you had thought.
You hesitated. It was not in you to lie and it was only a matter of time before Tendou gave further details to the rest about the situation. “We were talking about Eita-kun before he asked me.”
“What about Eita?”
“Just how really messed up this situation is.” You decided on being vague.
Reon did not take the hint and continued to push the subject, “Why is it messed up?”
“You know why,” You gave him that look, like really bro, “I guess that’s what I get for assuming.
“What did you assume?” Your roommate asked, this time.
“I stayed loyal to him and I never gave into anyone. Never accepted chocolates or dates or anything. And I just assumed he would do the same?” Reon sat back in the chair, obviously mauling over your words.
“Well that is mostly true, with the exception of one person.” Both you and your roommate shot him questioning looks, unsure where he heard that from. “Isn’t it true you did extra practice with Wakatoshi for a whole month?”
“I don’t think volleyball counts as accepting affection.” Your roommate countered.
“Do you see who we are talking about?” Reon explained, “Our beloved ace lives and breathes volleyball. And he shared a good amount of that time alone with you. If you wanted to practice so badly, why not with Eita? He was the official setter.”
“Because Ushijima asked me personally.”
“And you accepted. You voluntarily spent an extended amount of time with him, engaging in the sport he loves and you didn’t think anything of it?”
“Of course not! I would have accepted practice from anyone else on the team.”
“I think that’s where you do not understand.” Reon paused, attempting to fully devlop his next few words before conveying them to the two of you. “You’re treating this extremely casually. But these are all boys who had no problems with showering you with compliments last year. Take a step back and really think about the situation.”
Your roommate interjected, “Okay, hold on. So Tendou and the boys tried to carelessly compliment (F/N) and after that she accepted one of those boy’s request to spend time with him.”
“We are not talking about some irresponsible boy. This is Wakatoshi, the most serious and straight-forward idiot to exist.”
You were sat on the bed, hands currently encasing your head in obvious stress and over-thinking. “But that’s not how I saw it! Ohmyfuckinggod.”
“I suggest you amend the situation, (F/N)-chan.” Reon advised, “I left him alone in the dorm, please talk to him.”
But you were already out the door. You had a growing list of reasons why you were an idiot and this misunderstanding definitely topped the list. You had to tell Eita that Ushijima would never hold a place in your heart like he did. It was impossible for Ushijima to have feelings for you, that was definite. Ever since your unofficial parting from Eita, you had spending more time with the ace. However, you would often be expressing your sadness about Semi and he knew entirely about your feelings. Wakatoshi was a bro.
And it was important that Semi knew that.
You tapped on his door, rapid and loud enough that you were sure other people in the hall heard it. There was a light shuffling inside and it seemed like there were multiple voices.
Semi opened a slight crack of the door with narrowed eyes, but when they landed on you they widened with obvious shock. “(F/N), what are you doing here?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was talking with Reon and I think I need to say something before I regret it. Can I come inside?” Semi scratched the back of his ear in thought and did not move to allow you in.
“Who’s at the door, Eita-kun?” And right before your eyes was the blonde date he agreed to go to the formal with.
Semi could literally see and feel your heartbreak. When your eyes traveled from her smiley disposition to him, he saw the narrowing – the pure anguish written across your face. It was something he never wanted to see ever again. The poor boy would do anything for you and it physically pained him that the cause of your sorrow was from him.
You swallowed your pride and yelled out, “I’m sorry for interrupting!” You ran down the hall, not caring that the door to Tendou and Waka’s room opened as you sprinted past it.
“Did you hurt her?” Wakatoshi asked a stunned Semi, who was standing in the middle of the hallway with a hand outstretched.
“I hate my fucking life.” Semi slapped a palm to his forehead. He had something to do first before he addressed you. He slammed the door behind him quickly, so neither volleyball players could throw questions at him.
“What was that?” The blonde girl asked, still standing and silently waiting for Semi. He had called her here a few minutes ago, saying that they needed to talk.
“We can’t go to the formal together.” Semi stated. “I’m really sorry if I’ve led you on.”
“Is it because of (L/N)-san?” She asked, smile still evident on her face. He nodded lightly. “You two honestly suit each other. Even I was surprised when you said yes to me.” She moved to the floor to grab her bag and leave, “May I ask, why did you agree to go with me?”
“I don’t know.” He sat on his bed and wanted to scream, it was rare for him to be so confused.
“You better get your shit together, Eita-kun.” She gave a small laugh and then exited the dorm.
There was no way that you were returning back to your dorm. You knew that your roommate and Reon would still be there and expecting details. You should have known! If you kept distancing yourself from Semi, it was only a matter of time that he found comfort in another person’s arms. You deserved this, really. You had been so petty and jealous without actually affirming your feelings to him.
Text Messages:
17:32 From: the most tender Salami
What was THAT?!
17:29 From: Ushiwaka-sama!
Where are you???
The only place that you knew would be free of any volleyball idiots would be the on-campus café outside of the nursing building. It only accepted money and not swipes from the meal-plan, which in itself was a turn-off from most of the volleyball teams. It was on the complete opposite side of campus from the gyms and you were sure that none of the people you knew were enrolled in medical-specific programs. Of course, everyone except from her.
It had been a full hour of dodged texts and missed calls when she neared your table. “Hi. You probably don’t want to talk to me of all people.” The blonde started, but still made a motion as if asking if she could take the empty seat across from you.
“You can have the seat. I was on my way out.” You grabbed your various things from the table, readying to leave.
“Wait, please just listen.” You paused in your movements and nodded, “Semi called me to his room to call off our date for the formal. He never meant to upset you and I’m sure he’s looking for you as we speak. Please give him a chance.”
“You don’t have to do this.” You interjected, “He said yes to you and I don’t want to take him away from you just because I am the one who is upset. You asked and he accepted your affection, something we never did. We’ve only ever been friends. With Semi, all I want for him is to be happy. He deserves all the happiness in the world, even if it’s not with me.”
Your eyes were wandering around during your speech, jumping from behind the blonde and your surroundings but never focusing on her. When you gazed back at her, she was holding a hand to her nose and lightly sniffling.
“You two deserve to be together!” She shouted, “Oh god I am so sorry for getting between you guys.”
Behind you, Semi was scouring the café in an attempt to find you. He spent too damn long thinking and not acting, it was finally time that he made his feelings known. Grabbing his phone on the way out, he called Tendou and Waka and neither boys knew where you were. A quick text to Reon and your roommate and they both asked why you were not with him. Semi sighed and continued in his search. Finally, he received a text from the blonde that she found you moping around here.
Semi could spot you in a crowd of rowdy volleyball players within seconds. He found your luscious locks of hair across the very person he left. Damn, he really owed that girl. She took rejection like pro and even took it a step further to keep you here until he arrived.
“Please, you have nothing to be sorry about.” You responded.
A pair of large hands slid to lightly weigh on your shoulders, “Can I interrupt?”
“Please do.” The blonde replied and quickly gathered her belongings. “I wish you two the best.”
Semi quickly took her seat and reached across the table to hold your hands in his. “You said you wanted to clear misunderstandings before you ran off. I need to do the same.”
His grip tightened and you squeezed back. “Let me start, since I owe you an explanation.” He nodded. “Eita-kun, you’re the only man I’ve ever had eyes for. Even if I spend time with Waka-kun or Salami, they’ve never meant more to me than just friends. You’ve always held the most special and largest piece of my heart.”
Semi smiled and moved his chair closer to yours. “I want you to know that I feel the same way. It’s rather small of me, but after you spent so much time with Wakatoshi… I wanted to test if you felt the same heartbreak I felt when I saw the two of you together. I realize now how spiteful that was of me, to the very girl I had feelings for.”
You placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, rubbing rather affectionately and he seemed to lean into it. “Looks like we’re a pair of idiots.”
“But now you’re my exclusive idiot.” He staked his claim and you wondered how his seat suddenly was right next to yours!
Semi nuzzled your nose with his own, smile enrapturing you for the oomph time. You closed your eyes and leaned forward, bumping noses until you felt the gentle touch of his lips against yours. You were entirely receptive, even moving further into his body to get the full scape of his silky lips. The tips of his hair were tickling the sides of your face. And you would kill to feel this sensation for the rest of your life.
His hands lost themselves in your hair, preoccupied with keeping a steady hold on the back of your head. You returned the embrace and he took that as an invitation to glide his lips against yours, silently asking for entrance. You moaned in answer and opened up slowly, but he took it entirely in stride – not skipping a beat.
It was only when a flash went off that the two of you broke apart, gasping for air.
“Holy shit!” Tendou yelled, Wakatoshi clapping not too far behind him. You flushed with embarrassment. God you moaned in public! “This one is for the page.”
You were about to interject when Semi stated, “Finally. Maybe now you bastards will get the message.”
New notification:
[Instabook] Slide to unlock and see new tagged post
Hot momma! Finally, it seems as though the couple everyone shipped together are finally official~ Hopefully we don’t have to mark this page as 18+ Tagged: Eita Semi and (F/N)(L/N)
Attached: 1.jpg, 2.jpg / 3.gif
Semi led you back to his empty dorm, your roommate and Reon were bro’s and willingly offered to have a sleepover to give you two alone time. You were currently encased between his arms, legs tangled and speaking in low voices. He had you nestled beneath his chin, but most of your weight laid across his chest. Semi did not want this moment to end. He waited three years for this, it was a moment of love in the making. You laughed lightly in his arms, not a care in the world keeping you from him. You were both on cloud nine, basking in each other's presence. You never took Semi as a closet cuddle-whore, but you were not complaining. His arms encased you perfectly and you could not hold back from placing butterfly kisses across his chest.
You loved him, it was only a matter of time that you found out.
—xXxXxXxXxXx—
➳ A/N: This fic may seem familiar because it’s being brought up over from our earlier Deviantart account! <3
#semi eita#semi x reader#semi x y/n#semi x you#semi angst#semi fluff#shiratorizawa x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#hq x reader#hq x you#hq angst#hq fluff#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu!!#hq headcanons#hq imagines#hq imagine#hq scenarios#semi imagine#semi imagines#semi headcanons#semi scenarios#semi smau#Ushijima Wakatoshi#tendou#ushijima#tendou satori
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A lesson in Recollection (Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)
An awesome request from a nonnie mouse, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much for requesting my sweet 💕💜😘💭🐞
TW: brief descriptions of injuries, anxiety and hospitals
Word count: 1.7k
The beeps and hisses of the medical equipment were the only sounds that could be heard in your hospital room. Next to your bed sat your husband, jaw squared off, mouth clenched shut trying to contain his rage. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled as he clutched your delicate hand against his lips.
He blamed himself for the position you were in by default, a husband was supposed to love and protect, the convention is built into the vows themselves. In reality though, the attack had happened so fast and so suddenly that nobody would have been able to preempt it. None of that mattered now… even though the offenders were severely dealt with, your condition was still the same. It had been a week, and you were still asleep. Your superficial injuries were taken care of by Giorno, but still you wouldn’t wake up. Numerous scans and brain activity tests revealed some swelling in your brain which was slowly subsiding, he simply had to be patient and wait for you to open your eyes again… and fortunately for him, it happened… unfortunately, you stared at him blankly, unable to put a name to his handsome, crestfallen face.
“Tesoro, it’s me… Giorno… your husband,”
“Tesoro? What’s that? I’m… married? I… I don’t feel so good,” you whispered, unable to find your voice after being unconscious for so long.
“Okay, okay amore, I’m getting your doctor, please hang on for me,”
You looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, at the towering blond man scrambling around with all the white coats, you tried to push yourself up to join the conversation happening just above your head, but your physical strength was virtually nonexistent.
You were given a few days to physically recuperate, being subjected to test upon test to make sure that there was no other underlying cause for your loss of memory. The man who called himself your husband came to see you every day, bringing your favorite flowers, drinks, foods and scents with him in an attempt to help your memory recover. Even though you couldn’t remember him, you felt a sense of peace when you were around him, as if his soul was trying to connect on a subconscious level with your own. He was the only one who was able to talk you down from your bouts of anxiety, or the nightmares that sometimes plagued you. You figured he must have loved you immensely with all the effort he put into trying to get you to remember him.
“Your wife has retrograde amnesia, Mr. Giovanna. Fortunately, the swelling has subsided and her intracranial pressure has managed to consistently remain within normal levels, which is why I’m clearing her to go home. If there is any change in her condition or level of consciousness though, bring her back immediately. The road is a long one, Mr. Giovanna, there are no guarantees that her memories will return, but I have confidence that with the right care, she will be able to recover steadily.” Your doctor spoke honestly, not wanting to create unrealistic expectations, what he didn’t know was that Giorno was the type of person who always achieved whatever he had put his mind to- and right now, he was only concerned with making sure you would come out of this as unscathed as possible. Knowing that you would need all of his attention in the near future, he enlisted the help of his underboss and consigliere to help him run the organization remotely without having anyone privy to what he was actually doing. Both Mista and Fugo willingly obliged, wanting nothing than for you to make a full recovery.
“Thank you doctor, I’ll keep a close eye on her,” Giorno was relieved you were well enough to return home, the villa was painfully quiet and empty without you and he was certain that being in your sanctuary would help you remember your life with him. Looking at you sitting with your legs swinging off the side of your hospital bed and a faraway look in your eyes, you appeared so fragile and innocent.
“Good morning beautiful, how are you feeling today?” you turned to face him with a soft smile.
“Good morning Giorno, I’m okay thanks, and you?” the tender way in which you addressed him, being concerned for his well-being warmed his heart, whether you remembered him or not, you were still you… he was still yours as much as you were his.
“I’m much better now that I’m taking you home, shall we leave my love?”
“I’m ready, let’s go,”
Your doting husband helped you off the bed and took your things, you didn’t want to be wheeled out on the wheelchair, so you both walked out to the luxury car waiting for you. You didn’t expect there to be a driver, or a guard escorting you both… what does he do as job to be able to afford all this you mused. Come to think of it, you didn’t really know what your job was either… you decided to leave those questions for later. The entire drive home, you looked out of the window, the route home was unfamiliar, the imposing villa you were driven up to didn’t even feel real.
“Welcome home my love. Come, let’s get you settled in,”
“We live here? What exactly do we do?” your voice was imbued with curiosity.
“Well, I run a large, multidivisional organization, you are in charge of handing our philanthropic ventures, I’ll explain more later on… are you okay to walk up the stairs? In fact, never mind,” he said as he lifted you off the ground and carried you up the stairs despite your reassurances that you were fine. You looked at the beautifully decorated home, pictures of you both tastefully dotted throughout the hall way. Looking at his gorgeous angled face, you wondered how you both met and fell in love.
“This is our room bella, would you like to take a nap?”
“Gio, I’m fine… sorry, it just slipped out, do you mind if I call you Gio? It just sounds… right,”
“Of course bella, I’d prefer that. Ah! You must be hungry, all those days just eating hospital food… what would you like eat? Our chef will make anything you want, everyone has missed you here, so they’re all pretty excited you’re back home,”
“Really? I’d like to meet everyone later… if they’re not busy,”
“Okay my love,” said Giorno as he went into his closet to fetch something more casual to wear, choosing a simple V-neck t-shirt and jeans, shaking out his hair from its usual style, and leaving it unbound about his shoulders. He walked out to find you sitting at your vanity, looking at the products and the baubles, lifting up your favorite hairbrush and examining its engravings. He walked towards you, and took his place behind you, lifting your hair off your shoulders and bringing it to the back, he took the ornate brush from your grasp and began to gently brush your hair. Your injuries were well healed by now, but Giorno was still extremely careful.
“How does this feel? I’m not hurting you am I?
“No, it feels really nice actually… Gio… would you tell me how we met? Like, what’s our story? I see all the pictures around and we look so happy,”
“We were happy, bella, we still are, we’ll get back what was lost and create even better memories on the way… we met 10 years ago, we were just stupid ambitious kids back then, both 15 years old with heads full of dreams. I won’t go into detail, but we had very… unique occupations and abilities. We’ve been through a lot together, and rebuilt this organization from the ground up. We’ve been together as a couple for seven years and married for the past two,”
“Sounds like quite a journey for a pair as young as us… and now there’s this… I’m sorry, I’m sure you didn’t imagine something like this would happen,” the apologetic quality of your voice saddened Giorno, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like this was your fault.
“We have fought against worse my love, and just like that we’ll handle this together… come, no sad faces now,” said Giorno as he braided some flowers into your hair.
“Wow, you’re good at this… where did you get the flowers from, you didn’t move an inch?” you asked, admiring his handiwork.
With a smile he replied that he’ll show you a bit later on, which you accepted. The rest of day was spent by talking about some of the interesting things that had happened to you both in the past. Being wary of overwhelming you, Giorno didn’t go into great detail about the more tragic experiences. When it came time for you to sleep, he suggested he sleep in one of the guest rooms if you felt uncomfortable, but you asked him to stay with you, feeling guilty that you were the reason he felt like he had to behave like a guest in his own home.
As you got more comfortable, and built up your strength with your recovery, Giorno slowly started reintegrating you back into your old routine, as difficult as it was, you had made great strides in re-learning key bits of information. Your mental fortitude had constantly reminded your husband exactly why he had fallen in love with you, the least he could do with your trying so hard, was to match your effort, working tirelessly with you on the exercises that your therapist suggested, recreating pivotal events so you could experience some semblance of what you would have when it initially occurred, and most importantly, being the support you needed when things became overwhelming.
Slowly you were reintroduced to Mista, Fugo and Trish, reestablishing the friendships almost immediately. You were grateful for the wonderful people who surrounded you, from the staff at the villa to Giorno’s closest associates who constantly sought to aid in your recovery. Most of all though, you were grateful for Giorno, you were aware of how much he had done and continues to do to aid you. While you were cognizant of everything you had been through together, having regained most of your memory through your combined efforts, what had remained altered though, was how you felt about Giorno, this whole experience solidifying your bond even more than you thought possible, it had just reaffirmed that you both would be able to overcome even the most dire of situations if you handled it together.
#giorno giovanna x reader#giorno x reader#giorno giovanna#giorno#don giorno#don giovanna#giogio#jjba x reader#jojo x reader#vento aureo#jjba#golden wind#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken
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If Words Could Heal Scars (Fic)
"I'm sorry and thank you"
Wei Wuxian allows those words to convey every unsaid emotion, every word he cannot say. He has learned these phrases are the most important words one can say in one's life. He would utter them like a prayer for the rest of his life and it would still not be enough to make up for the pain Lan Zhan has endured on his behalf, but he can start with saying them thirty-three times.
Dedicated to @zelkam
Based on their absolutely amazing and heartbreaking art that just left me so inspired to write a fic. It broke me out of year’s worth of writer’s block so thank you so much for making it! I hope this fic can capture the same feelings the art induced.
Read on AO3 or continue reading below
Wei Wuxian knelt in front of his makeshift lotus pond. He had just finished hauling buckets of water to fill it. It would be time to plant the seeds soon. The weather was growing steadily colder by the day which meant he had to work tirelessly to get them planted before it was too late in the season. As he looked at his pond—less a pond and more a mud puddle—he sighed. It would be a miracle if any of the seeds sprouted, but, attempting the impossible was what his—well, his former clan was known for. If he thought too long about his brief visit with his adopted siblings, he knew he would start to get homesick for Lotus Pier. He knew he would most likely never return there and see the endless lakes filled with lotus blossoms ever again. Best to get to work and not dwell on the fact, Wei Wuxian thought.
“Wen Ning,” he shouted, “hand me that trowel.”
Wen Ning’s head perked up from where he was helping bag fresh turnips. “Yes, Young Master Wei!” He snatched the hand trowel and jogged over to the lotus pond. As he was about to hand it over to Wei Wuxian, his foot caught on an exposed root and he fumbled with the trowel. It slipped from his hands as he attempted to regain his footing. It missed Wei Wuxian and landed in the mud pit with a spalt, slashing some mud up on Wei Wuxian’s face and robes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Wei Wuxian heard Wen Ning repeatedly mumbling as he flicked the mud off his face. He reached into the shallow pool and delicately lifted the drenched trowel between his thumb and middle finger.
“Wen Ning,” Wei Ying said to interrupt the still muttering man, “it’s alright, no need to be sorry.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wen Ning said looking down at his feet.
“Now what are you sorry about? Stop saying sorry so much, there’s really no need.”
“Sister says, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’ are the two most important phrases you can say,” Wen Ning admitted.
Wei Wuxian smiled softly. “Well, your sister is very wise, but don’t tell her I said that,” he said.
“Tell me you said what?” Wen Qing said, appearing out of nowhere to catch Wei Wuxian at the worst possible moment as she does best.
Wen Ning greeted his sister excitedly while Wei Ying tried to escape admitting he ever paid Wen Qing a compliment, trowel incident and apologies forgotten.
He takes it back now, Wen Qing was not wise, she was an idiot, an absolute fool. Wei Wuxian writhed on the stone slab which served as his bed in Demon Subdue Palace. He fought desperately against the toxin flowing into his body through Wen Qing’s needle, keeping his body stiff and limbs immovable. Wei Ying screamed at Wen Qing and Wen Ning as the siblings revealed their plan to him. They were going to turn themselves in. They would be executed without a doubt. They knew this, they must have, so why, why would they want to face certain death and leave him all alone.
His screams slowly turned into sobs. Wei Wuxian begged them not to go. He should be the one to go instead. He continued pleading as Wen Qing knelt next to him and flicked a sleeping spell on his forehead. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy. He forced them to stay open with fading strength.
“No, Wen Qing,” he said weakly.
“I didn’t tell you many times, but today, something needs to be said,” Wen Qing began. Wei Ying shook his head, pleading with his eyes. “Or from now on, I won’t have a chance.”
“No,” he said, feeling his eyelids droop closed against his will. He could no longer fight the spell pulling him to sleep. Her final words drifted to him as though from afar.
“I’m sorry, and thank you.”
Wei Wuxian leaned up against a tree to catch his breath after running into the forest with Jin Ling. His eyes flickered across the surrounding terrain. Despite Jin Ling telling him Fairy would not trouble him, he still had his doubts. After all, dogs could not be trusted, even this so-called wonder dog. He had a feeling Jiang Cheng bought the dog for Jin Ling just to spite Wei Wuxian. After his run-in with Jiang Cheng earlier, it was clear his hatred had not abated in these 16 years Wei Ying had been dead. Jin Ling confirmed that as he told Wei Wuxian of the numerous times his uncle had caught those under suspicion of being the reincarnated Yiling Patriarch. Luckily, Jin Ling’s skepticism saved him from Jiang Cheng’s wrath for now.
“I tell you, you have saved me indeed, but I won’t thank you,” Jin Ling shouts at him. Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. It was his fault this kid grew up without learning any manners, he supposed. If he must, he would try and teach him some himself.
“Young man, in a person’s life, he must learn to say two phrases,” Wei Ying began, stepping in front of his nephew.
“Which two?”
“Thank you and sorry.”
Jin Ling scoffed at him. “I just don’t want to, what can you do with that?”
“You will say it while crying someday.” Trust me, I know from experience, left unsaid. Wei Wuxian paused, taking a deep breath. “Jin Ling, I’m sorry.”
Wei Wuxian struggled with his words. His heart was full with all he wanted to say to Lan Zhan. After his enlightening conversation with Zewu Jun, he regarded Lan Wangji with a different light. He had resented Lan Zhan’s constant criticism back then, back in his first life. But now, he knew Lan Zhan’s actions were out of love. Even now, every little thing—bringing him Emperor’s Smile, playing this soft, familiar melody on the guqin—was done with love. Lan Zhan loved him. Wei Wuxian chuckled at the revelation, gazing absentmindedly out at the glittering snow falling on Cloud Recesses. That realization should have shocked him, he thought, but if anything, it calmed his racing mind. He realized with perfect clarity, as well, that he loved Lan Zhan. Wei Ying did not know what words could possibly begin to convey all his love, his adoration, his regret, and his sorrow. However, he took a swig of Emperor’s Smile and made an attempt.
“Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, and thank you,” he whispered from where he leaned on the doorframe of the Jingshi.
Lan Zhan glanced up at him briefly with the barest hint of a smile before returning his eyes to his instrument. No, that would not do, Wei Wuxian thought. He took a step inside the room and turned to pull the doors to the Jingshi shut, barring out the cold winter air. Swiveling back to face Lan Wangji, he took a few steps forward while reaching behind to tug off his belt. Wei Wuxian knelt next to the low table, set down his jug of Emperor’s Smile, and shrugged his outer robe off his shoulders. Lan Zhan regarded him quizzically.
Wei Ying stepped over to the other side of the table. He knelt once again and gripped Lan Zhan’s shoulders, guiding him to stand. He slid his hands down the other man’s arms before clutching at his wrist with one hand. Gently, he pulled Lan Wangji towards the bed. Wei Wuxian sat down whilst pulling Lan Zhan down to sit in front of him. Reaching up to the back of his neck, Wei Ying delicately swept Lan Zhan’s silky hair to the side so that it draped in front of his chest. He smoothed his hands over Lan Wangji’s broad shoulders before softly gripping the top of his robes.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan questioned.
“Is this okay?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan said with a slight nod, still seeming confused, but willing to go along with it.
Wei Wuxian nodded back even though he knew Lan Zhan was facing the wrong way to see him. Gripping the top of his robes, Wei Ying gently pulled them down, exposing Lan Zhan’s back. Wei Wuxian gasped as the scarred skin was exposed. He had seen Lan Zhan’s back from a distance in the Cold Springs but seeing it up close—even in the dim light of the Jingshi—was heartbreaking, especially now he knew the origin of these thirty-three whip scars. Each of these scars represented someone Lan Zhan protected Wei Ying from. Thirty-three people from his own clan, his own family who he fought to save him. Wei Wuxian idly traced the outline of a few of them with his fingers. Tears welled up in his eyes. Lan Wangji dropped his head down.
“Your brother told me what happened,” Wei Wuxian admitted. “Lan Zhan, I—”
“Wei Ying, it is—”
“No,” Wei Ying interrupted. He could guess Lan Zhan’s intention to say it was okay or it was fine. “Just—just let me—.” Wei Wuxian was not entirely sure what he was asking Lan Zhan to let him do, but Lan Zhan nodded his head anyway, glancing at Wei Ying over his shoulder.
Wei Wuxian lowered his head to rest his cheek against Lan Zhan’s back. He felt Lan Zhan flinch under him as he felt a cold tear slip down Wei Wuxian’s face and onto his exposed back. Then, he froze as Wei Ying turned his head and pressed a faint kiss to one of the scars.
“I’m sorry and thank you.”
Another kiss.
“I’m sorry and thank you.”
Another kiss.
The routine continued for each individual scar. Wei Wuxian pressed his lips to the raised skin and whispered his endless sorrow and gratitude. With every utterance, he conveyed unspoken words from his heart. He spoke with unbridled reverence and worshipped every scar with each kiss.
I’m sorry you were hurt because of me.
I’m sorry I left you behind.
I’m sorry I took so long to come back to you.
Thank you for waiting.
Thank you for protecting me.
Thank you for loving me.
Wei Wuxian could think of a unique reason behind every single apology and thanks. He owed Lan Zhan everything. Thirty-three sorry’s and thank you’s could barely scratch the surface. He could scream it from the clifftops for the rest of his life and it still would not be enough.
After the last scar, Wei Wuxian lifted his head up while letting his hand linger against Lan Zhan’s back, rubbing in lazy circles. He stared, but his eyes were unfocused.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, sensing his troubled mind.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. He paused before continuing, “You could have died.”
“I did not,” Lan Zhan stated.
“But you could have! Lan Zhan, I’m not going to ask you if these hurt because I know you’d lie to me, I know they must have hurt. You were in so much pain. All this for me, and you might not have even made it out alive. I’m not worth it, Lan Zhan. What if you died. It would have been my fault—”
“If I died, it would have been fine.”
“Lan Zhan—”
Lan Wangji twisted around to fully face Wei Wuxian. “It would have been fine because I would have been reunited with you, Wei Ying,” he said, staring directly into the other’s tear-filled eyes.
Wei Ying laughed softly and swiped a tear from his eye. “Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that.”
“Wei Ying, I—”
Wei Wuxian put a finger up to Lan Zhan’s lips before he could continue. “I know,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I love you too, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan’s face shifted in a genuine smile, one that to anyone other than Wei Wuxian might not have even been noticed as a smile, but Wei Wuxian saw it for what it really was, a smile brighter than the sun. “Then,” Lan Zhan began, “you should know that there is no need for apologies or thanks between us.”
Wei Wuxian sighed. “I know, I know, just let me get it out of my system.” He reached up to delicately hold Lan Wangji’s face between his palms.
“I’m sorry and thank you,” he said for the last time before he closed the distance between them and kissed Lan Zhan. He worshipped his lips as he worshipped his scars, kissing Lan Zhan tenderly. Lan Zhan kissed him back just as passionately, yet not rushed. Sorry’s and thank you’s behind them, they had all the time in the world to prove to each other that those words were no longer necessary between them. Even so, Wei Wuxian would know the importance of those two phrases for as long as he lived.
#the untamed#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#wangxian#lan wangji#wei wuxian#fanfiction#missing scene#set mostly during episode 43#hi I made myself cry while writing this#I could not stop thinking about all the parallels with im sorry and thank you#I really should be finishing my grad school apps but this is more important#cql#my fics
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happy birthday!! for a meta request, i'd love to hear if you have any thoughts on sam's parallels to minor characters like patience and magda? <3
Thank you!! I love this idea and the two examples you have here. Going off that I think it would be really interesting to explore parallels between Sam and other psychics on the show—besides the Special Children (who are another type of parallel altogether) and Jack (a major character).
Sam vs Psychics
Sam & Magda
This, I think, is the parallel that is drawn most often, because this is the psychic that has been most explicitly connected to Sam. He also had the majority of the interactions with her in the lone episode in which she appeared.
The similarities between them are numerous: both Sam and Magda express telekinetic abilities at some point. Both have had family members who witnessed their powers and believed them to be wrong or evil. As a result, both of them see their powers as negatives, as things that make them impure or wrong or evil. And this perception is largely drawn from the way that their respective families react to these powers, and will lock them up in an attempt to tamp down on their abilities. Self hatred coalesces inside of them, and things go horribly wrong when they attempt to stick to the status quo that they have been told will rehabilitate them.
However, there are differences between them, and significant ones. For one, the extent to which their respective families commit to deeming them evil. Dean certainly flirts with the idea, but when push comes to shove he simply can’t commit all out to assigning Sam as fully evil. Magda’s family, her mother in particular, does commit completely to the role. However, perhaps Dean isn’t paralleled to the mother, but to Magda’s brother, who also isn’t convinced of evil. Perhaps John would’ve been the mother, had he still been alive. Regardless, their familial situations are just different enough that Sam, despite having his powers deemed impure, is not as beaten down and alone as Magda. He’s also, well, not a child. He’s had time and room to grow into himself (or, well, more than Magda has), as well as to make mistakes. Magda has barely had time to do the same.
What is fascinating, though, is how Sam interacts with Magda. He’s staring at himself, and he knows it. He’s looking at a what-if scenario where he was locked up from childhood, where his self-hatred and fear developed much sooner and much more intensely. He’s finally seeing himself from an outsider perspective, that scared 22 year old kid whose crime was just...existing with powers. In affording Magda the understanding he kindness he didn’t get, he’s forgiving himself. He addresses for the first time that his powers, although he still doesn’t know much about them, are not inherently evil. He is not inherently evil.
In short, Magda speaks to the part of Sam that unclean, impure, fearful. And in doing so, he helps her, and himself, start to heal. Magda never makes it due to her life being cut short, but perhaps Sam does, eventually.
Sam & Patience
This parallel is interesting in its deliberate mirroring of Patience to Sam, and yet, they never really interact. The role Patience plays in our understanding of Sam, then, is less explicit than the route taken with Magda, but is not less telling.
The main obstacle Patience has to deal with, primarily, is not the powers themselves necessarily. Instead, Patience has to deal with the way that her powers place her in the middle of two people that she loves: her father and her grandmother. In expressing her powers, she has unwittingly picked a side, and has to figure out where to fall and who to keep in her life. In this, her powers function as a connection to a side of her that her father wants to keep her from, a family secret that he worries will place you in danger. Again, it’s less about what the powers actually are and more about what they mean.
This plays an interesting role in our understanding of Sam too, because the powers have both mattered and haven’t at various points in the show in his case. Sometimes, like the demon blood, what he can do is the point. But, underlying much of the discussions about Sam’s powers is instead on what they mean instead of what they are, on what they can tell us about him. Like Patience, Sam’s powers separate him from his family, make him the outlier that he felt he was in his childhood. They make him have to make hard choices with the people he loves, as he ultimately cannot ignore a basic part of himself to make them happy. Patience learns this lesson too. No where does this connect to Sam more explicitly than when Patience’s father echoes the last words that John said to Sam before he left for Stanford. Like Sam at that stage, Patience is trying to find herself, to find her calling and her place in life. With something that separates her, and him, from the rest of the world so significantly, it’s difficult to ignore them.
However, this is also where they differ. Patience has the space to accept the powers, grow into them, grow into who she really is. She integrates them as part of her reality, and finds the support network to do so. Sam does not. After Sam tries to use them, they backfire completely, and he learns his lesson to never approach them again. He ignores them, and it works! They are referenced tangentially, if at all. They no longer seem to be a part of his identity.
This is also reflected in the fact that despite being so similar, Sam and Patience barely interact, if they ever interact at all. Their stories started almost exactly the same way, but diverged heavily at the outset. Patience is an alternate reality Sam, one where he got the chance to grow into his abilities rather than fear them.
Patience speaks to the part of Sam that is connected to his powers, that has accepted them as his own and grown with them. And, since Sam does not do so, the two do not meet.
Sam & Missouri
Speaking of Patience, her grandmother, Missouri, is also a notable psychic on the show. In fact, she may be the first proper psychic we ever meet. Unlike both Magda and Patience, she is older than Sam and thus takes a more mentor-like role in his life. She acts as a positive example of the supernatural in a world that seems hell bent on proving them to be evil, providing support and reassurance to a Sam who is just starting out his journey with them.
Missouri is incredibly kind. Instead of using her powers to hurt the supernatural, she seems to be trying to help them find peace. She uses her abilities in the service of others, both human and not. Missouri is the ultimate example of the “good psychic” and she’s the first proper example of one Sam ever got. And in a way, it shows. Sam grows up to follow in her footsteps in terms of this attitude, as much as he allows himself to: he chooses kindness, he chooses mercy, he chooses to help. His propensity to help supernatural beings tends to fluctuate but he does show an occasional awareness to at least try. He also leans towards mentoring other children who express similar abilities that he once did, echoing the role that Missouri took towards him.
However, not even Missouri survives. The person who is labeled the perfect psychic, the right way to do the crossroads between the supernatural and human worlds, is killed. She took with her the proof that you don’t have to be othered by being not quite human, and that you can be free to use the powers you were born with without them “tainting” you. Sam, her primarily point of contact early on, doesn’t even get to see her one last time.
Missouri speaks to the part of Sam that is a mentor, that uses his experiences to help others. However, this help can only go so far.
Sam & Pamela
Pamela is an interesting case here, because there seem to be deliberate attempts to differentiate her from Sam as much as possible. However, she still can’t escape the fact that she’s psychic and this, almost more than anything else, ties her to Sam’s story in various ways.
Pamela seems to be the polar opposite of Sam when we first meet her. She is loud, sociable, confident, and adept in her powers and extremely comfortable with them. She doesn’t seem to be worried about what her powers are doing to her, nor about what they mean in the big picture, but embraces her abilities gladly and uses them to help others where she can. However, despite her confidence and abilities, she is hurt again and again by her powers until they ultimately kill her.
At first, she is blinded by an angel because she felt that she was powerful enough to look at it. She overestimated herself, and it backfired on her. In season four, Sam is blindsided by Heaven and Hell partly because he grew confident and comfortable in his abilities and ultimately caused the apocalypse. Here, the message is clear: if you think you are competent in your powers, you aren’t. Don’t bother trying to use them. Later, she is killed because she is convinced to use her powers, again, to help the Winchesters. Her abilities are ultimately what cause her doom, twice.
This doom is inextricably linked with Sam. Although she may have been closer to Dean (so much so that she showed up in his mind construct 10 years after her death), her dying moments connect to Sam to the danger of his burgeoning abilities. She wakes him up specifically before she dies so that he can use his own powers to save himself and his brother. In doing so, she encourages his abilities. However, right before dying, she warns him that his powers are not to be trusted. In other words: she builds his confidence, then instantly brings him back down.
Pamela speaks to the part of Sam that is confident in himself, acting as a cautionary tale. There doesn’t seem to be a point in trying to master your powers, as they will ultimately kill you in the end.
Sam & Oliver
Now we get to the one-off characters, the psychics we only get to meet briefly. One of these is Oliver, the psychic that Sam and Cas go to to contact Bobby in Heaven. Oliver is an interesting case, as he was connected to the Men of Letters, an organization that Sam is a legacy of. However, he is also a loner, as his powers make it too difficult for him to venture amongst people, as their thoughts can overwhelm him.
Being connected to the Men of Letters, Oliver is a scholar and a practical man, a little at odds with the abilities that he possesses. In that way, he’s a bit of a contradiction, being wholly confident in his abilities while also being disbelieving of their origins. Sam is the opposite: being convinced of greater and higher powers, but very unsure of his own abilities and his access to them. However, Oliver’s abilities are the direct reason for his solitude, as he is literally unable to stay in the presence of others because of them. He is separated form then solely because of his abilities.
Oliver speaks to the part of Sam that feel isolated from the people around him, but in him there exists a glimmer of hope that there is more out there for him.
Sam & Sunny
Technically, both Sunny and her father Chip, in 14x15 Peace of Mind, could qualify for this list. Both of them are powerful psychics with the ability to manipulate a whole town into adopting new identities and personalities, and even being able to kill them if they strayed. However, Sunny seems to appeal more to Sam’s story specifically, as she is the one who is uncertain about where she stands with her abilities. She is also uncertain about whether or not to choose her family or what she believes to be right, and ultimately decides on the latter.
Interestingly, we don’t see Sunny truly express her powers until the episode is almost over, when she uses them to cause permanent harm to her father. Here, he is about to kill Sam, after he has killed many others (including someone important to her), until she can’t take it anymore. She turns against him, breaking his mind with her own. She’s dangerous that way, but chooses not to use her powers unless she feels others are in danger too.
Like Sam, she sees her powers as a curse. Counter to Sam, however, is that it is he refusal to use them that separates her from her family. Finally embracing them, which she had not wanted to do, doesn’t do that either: instead, she uses her family curse to work against them and save the ones that they are hurting. While this does not parallel Sam directly, the situation does: a young person with powers they do not want in a family they feel that they don’t belong to sounds exactly like the setup young Sam faced in the earlier seasons. Her fear about her powers and their use also echo Sam’s own feelings, as well as the fear (realized) that doing so will turn her against her family.
Sunny speaks to the part of Sam that is scared of losing his family, of going too far to save them. And ultimately, he will do anything to save them.
Sam & Margaret & Kate
These are the first of the Lily Dale psychics that we’ll discuss today, and they’re an interesting case here. Starting with the obvious, there’s two of them: they’re two sisters, ghost psychics who are at odds with each other. One of them, Kate, is the more popular sister, and the more gifted one. After death, she appeared to help prospective victims of her sister before she was salted and burned for doing so. The other, Margaret, was less popular and less gifted, and held resentment for her sister for it. She was brought back as a ghost to kill, and she enjoyed it, before being stopped by Sam and Dean.
In a way, this may seem like a Sam and Dean parallel, and they could be. However, I’m going to suggest that they actually both represent different parts of Sam, different areas of his psyche. The first, Margaret, is his resentful side. The side that is angry, that wants to be unleashed, that wants to have his own successes. It also happens that this ghost is the evil one. The second, Kate, uses her powers to protect others, even from the people she loves. She is Sam’s self-sacrificial side, helping others at the extent of his own life. Interestingly enough, it is Sam who ultimately burns both of their bones, killing off both of these warring aspects of his personality.
Margaret and Kate speak to the part of Sam that is at at war with himself, with what he wants battling what he thinks is the right thing to do. Interestingly enough, neither side seems to win.
Sam & Jimmy
Another one of the Lily Dale psychics, Jimmy is unable to reconcile his abilities with his identity. As he lacks the personality for it, he is unable to make a living as a psychic despite having actual powers. Fake psychics, however, are able to do so because they have the showmanship for it. This makes Jimmy resentful, and he aims to make them pay for it with their lives. Here, Jimmy is trying his best to slot himself into his psychic-ness as he sees it, but cannot seem to manage it. The disconnect causes him turmoil, and he does whatever he can to reclaim this identity.
Interestingly, it’s Sam who has the lion’s share of interactions with him, and it’s Sam who ends up killing him. Sam kills almost all the real psychics in this episode, the people who are like him. It was in self defense, but it was still Sam who did it. Sam kills off the part of himself that desperately wants to hold on to his abilities, to his psychic identity, finally letting it go forever.
Jimmy speaks to the part of Sam that wants to have his powers, and wants them to belong to him. He makes sure to kill off that part of him as soon as possible, before it can hurt him or others around him.
Sam & Fred
Fred is a particularly interesting case. He is notable for being a well known psychic to Sam and Dean, familiar to them from their childhood. He was investigated and deemed to be good, safe, by the judge, jury, and executioners that are the hunting community. And thus, he was left alone to live his life until he grew old. He locked himself inside his own head, psychic powers drawing out the cartoon rules he loved so much, leaving him open to manipulation in order to hurt others. After being saved by the Winchesters, he asks them to take away his abilities, at great personal cost to himself. He is left totally unresponsive, but is happy with doing so.
The lesson here for Sam is quite clear. No matter how good you are as a person, your psychic powers can always be used, or manipulated, in order to be dangerous to others. The powers are a way for him to regress to his youth, and this is a scary notion to him. The lesson here is that you should shut down the parts of yourself you feel are scary or could hurt others, even if you yourself are dead. Locking yourself away is treated as a victory.
Fred speaks to the part of Sam that wants to forget, to get rid of the powers that could prove so dangerous without control. Fred is the justification that forgetting and ignoring his abilities is the right thing to do.
My 25th birthday celebration
#sorry this took so long!#speaks#spn#supernatural#sam winchester#magda peterson#patience turner#spn meta#asks#Pamela Barnes
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If you want to! Mergwaine and tackle hug (romantic or platonic). Idk Gwaine is just the type and it’d be so cute. Maybe after they’ve been reunited??? Or not whatever works 💗
@rainbowvamp thank you for the prompt!! 💕 i took a couple of liberties in that it's a tackle and a hug, i hope that's alright, and i'm sorry about the tone, they just seem to be getting angstier and angstier...
(set a few days after camlann)
as usual, under the cut, and thank you again!!
Whilst the rest of the court marvelled at Gwaine’s miraculously hasty recovery, Gwaine was embracing his newly-discovered invincibility by patrolling the Darkling Woods alone.
He had been clinging to life by a thread, but even in his deadened state he had recognised the hands that had slowly coaxed his body back to consciousness. Instinctively, Gwaine’s own hand jumped to his chest, where he had felt Merlin’s fingers brush against his skin. He wasn’t sure if he’d called out his name, if they’d even spoken, or quite what Merlin had done to him, but Gwaine had been able to sit up after a day and Merlin had been gone.
Healing spells had never been Merlin’s strong suit and Gwaine knew that they were capable of draining every last trace of a skittish pulse if the healer was already weakened. And Merlin would be weakened after watching Arthur die, that Gwaine knew all too well. And Gwaine couldn’t lose Merlin, not after everything that had happened. Particularly not as a result of Merlin reversing Morgana’s damage.
Gwaine pushed through the branches, tucking his hair behind his ear and pausing for a moment by a large oak tree. His fingers fumbled for the knots on the trunk as his legs threatened to crumble beneath him, seeking out the letters carved into the wood. It had been a ridiculous idea, and childish at that, but that hadn’t stopped him from leaving the scar of his initials interlinked with that of Merlin’s in the soft sunset so many years before. Severing himself from the tree as the strength returned to him in gradual waves, Gwaine moved further into the woods, plunging into the translucent darkness left by the shadows of the sun as the leaves above him obscured its path. He and Merlin had grown apart over the last year, and Gwaine had been trying his best to not let it show just how desperately his feet were treading water beneath the surface in the effort to keep their relationship afloat. Merlin had not left his side for a week after Gwaine had returned from Morgana’s clutches with Percival, but he had been paying more and more attention to Arthur and his well being, which Gwaine had attempted to apply logic to. It had made sense that Merlin was focused on Arthur, particularly with the multiple threats lurking in the shadows, and Gwaine himself had sworn loyalty to Arthur. Though that didn’t mean that his service, as it had always been, wasn’t primarily dedicated to Merlin. Everything he did – or had done – for Arthur had been because Merlin had asked him to, or because Gwaine had been able to see the expression lingering in the eyes that he knew so well, the fear that had darkened the delicate irises for the past year.
For a year, Gwaine had mourned the moments where Merlin would unflinchingly tell him about his father, or his magic, or the numerous dangers he’d encountered – though that last one had usually been reserved for when Gwaine had needed a scare to rid himself of hiccups. He had watched Merlin close off more and more of himself and Gwaine hadn’t even realised that Merlin had been dying until he had collapsed on Gwaine’s bed hours after the attempted assassination of Arthur and begrudgingly told him the whole tale. Even then he’d elected to omit the fact that Gwen was wanting Arthur dead, but Gwaine also knew that Merlin had the opinion of himself that his word was worth nothing, despite Gwaine having told him multiple times that he would believe Merlin over Arthur any day of the week. And if Merlin had spent the last of his spirit on Gwaine before they even had the chance to recover the land decimated by drought, Gwaine would never forgive himself.
Through the hesitant birdsong, the snapping of a twig resounded like a crossbow bolt to the skull. Gwaine pressed himself to a tree trunk and, one hand hovering over his sword, ignited sparks that scattered themselves across his fingertips. Through the branches, he caught sight of a hooded figure and a glint of metal and, putting aside all cautions of taking it easy, launched himself at the intruder. Having knocked them to the ground, Gwaine roughly turned them over onto their back between his legs, hand drawn back behind his head as the sparks evolved into ribbons of fire, his eyes burning with the same heat that Merlin’s had flared with so many times.
The same heat that was flickering right in front of him.
In wonder, Merlin reached up with his fingertips to graze the stubble on Gwaine’s chin, the drawn and anxious expression buried amidst it, the bruises stretched out beneath his eyes. When he spoke, he sounded like he was older than time itself. ‘I didn’t think it would work,’ he whispered, the fire in his eyes fading.
Instead of the vibrant blue that Gwaine was used to, the gaze that held his was commanded by the uncertain watery depths of the sky snatched between storm clouds. It was like all the colour had been drained from him and Merlin had been left with the dregs of his former self, and Gwaine’s hands, dropping the flames like he had dropped his guard around the warlock so long ago, jumped to Merlin’s cheeks to check that he was not some trick of his mind.
‘What happened to you?’
‘I gave you all,’ Merlin breathed back, eyes still roaming his form. ‘Because I couldn’t save Arthur, so I had to save you. Morgana was the darkness to my light, and you are my light. I couldn’t let her corrupt you. So I poured everything I had into reversing her damage. I poured everything I had into you.’
‘And nearly killed yourself in the process,’ said Gwaine sharply, fingers darting to the faint heartbeat beneath Merlin’s shirt. He slid from him, trying to conceal his trembling lower lip, and shook out his hair as he held out his arms. ‘Come here, you self-sacrificing fuck.’
Merlin fell into him like an acorn burying itself in the ground, rooting itself to the very earth it would one day become in the hopes of being able to slowly flourish. Savouring the cool touch, Gwaine wrapped his arms around the warlock in the attempt to transfer some of his body heat. Merlin was still breathing, which was always a good sign, and the heart thumping against him was stronger than it had been mere moments before. They hadn’t held each other like this since the morning that Merlin had been released from the cells after being cleared of poisoning Arthur. When Merlin touched him, it was like a butterfly was darting across Gwaine’s skin and seeking out the nectar hidden in his pores, and Gwaine closed his eyes.
‘Do you still have your magic?’
Merlin’s reply was thickened by the threat of tears. ‘I think so. It doesn’t feel as strong as it did, but I know a way to get it back if it is gone. You didn’t tell me that you’d been practising.’
Gwaine’s fingers were making their way along Merlin’s ribs. ‘There wasn’t really a chance to drop it into conversation,’ he softly said. ‘You were preoccupied with—You were preoccupied with other things.’
‘I’m sorry. For isolating myself. I just—I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I couldn’t allow everything that had been built to crumble so soon after.’ Merlin dropped his head into Gwaine’s shoulder. ‘It has anyway, though, and I’ve hurt you in the process. And I should have stayed by your side, when I healed you. But there were other voices and I was selfish and couldn’t handle the prospect of yet another failure, this time with an audience, and—’
‘Merlin, it’s alright. You’ve had so much pressure put on you for so long and, yes, you’ve hurt me, but you’re a selfless bastard who was doing it to protect me. I’d say that I expect you to make it up to me, but you’ve just saved my life, so I think that counteracts some of the distance that was between us. Not that I’ll say no to flowers, if that inclination possesses you,’ Gwaine added as an afterthought.
Pulling away, Merlin abandoned his fingers to Gwaine’s soft hair, gaze darting anywhere but Gwaine’s warm eyes. Then, he met them. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’
Had Merlin asked that several months ago, Gwaine would have screamed that he show him, but Merlin had been willing to sacrifice himself for Gwaine. And Merlin being prepared to drain himself of his magic, the one thing that he had defined himself by – which was arguably not the best idea, but there would be time to show Merlin how much more he was worth – was more than enough proof that he loved Gwaine. ‘I know now. And I love you too.’
‘I won’t leave you again, I promise you.’
A lifetime of living as a pariah was screaming at Gwaine to not trust Merlin, to push him away to protect himself, but his heart was weeping and Merlin’s stare was so fierce for one who seemed so fragile. ‘I know you won’t.’ Gwaine pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead, lips lingering as he closed his eyes. ‘I know you won’t.’
#perhaps a little pleased with myself at actually managing to finish this one today even if there isn't much hug#i'm sorry...my mind just goes to places and my fingers follow#hope you like it and thanks again!#merlin#gwaine#merwaine#mergwaine#bbc merlin#hug prompts#lit writes
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