Ten of Cups Fic: Astonishing X-Men, Emma Frost (Scott/Emma implied)
Title: Reversed
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: X-Men (Astonishing 'verse). Set prior to the current run, with vague implications of things that may happen in the future. So vague it shouldn't be spoiler-y at all unless you too are psychic like Emma.
Character/Pairing Emma Frost, references Scott/Emma
Rating: PG13
Tarot: Ten Of Cups
Summary: Emma muses about Scott and their relationship.
Word Count: 400
AN: This is called "Reversed" because I figured it's probably the less cheerful reading of the Ten of Cups.
Reversed
Sometimes Emma wakes up in the middle of the night, because he’s dreaming too loudly and she can’t sleep.
The sheets on their bed are cool and soft, and the wind breezes in through the open windows, and there’s no reason on earth she should be anything but happy. He’s next to her, warm and solid and alive, and that’s really all that should matter.
Except that in dreams, all he wants is someone who’s dead, dead and buried, nothing more than bones beneath the earth. At least, we can all hope that’s what she is.
She’s not trying to be a bitch about Jean. It just comes so very naturally that Emma doesn’t think she could be anything else, even if she was inclined to be more forgiving that her lover was dreaming about a dead woman.
The dead woman he’d loved. The dead woman he sees as sleep fades away, the first thing he’s thinking of when he wakes up in the morning and turns to face her lying next to him, pretending she doesn’t know.
During the day she can forget about it, she can go about her business and take care of the myriad of administrative duties running this place requires, and she can forget the whisper of a name not her own in his dreams. At night when her body covers his, she sees that it’s only her in his mind, and she has that, at least. The woman astride him with hair the color of winter-wheat, tinged soft red by the power that shines behind his eyes, is not the one that haunts his dreams at night.
Emma’s not sure if she’s glad about that or not.
She overhears Hank talking to him one morning in the kitchen, with the smell of Peruvian blonde coffee lingering in the air. The future is uncertain enough for all of us, Scott, especially now. You deserve some happiness.
Emma wants to agree with him, she really does. Except that she knows what the future will bring, and nothing about it is happy. It won’t matter that she loves him, in the end.
So when she wakes up at night with his dreams of fire and death and a woman’s burning smile screaming like a litany in her head, she presses herself against him and closes her eyes, and tries to be happy, just for a little while.
Author: Sionnain
Fandom: X-Men (Astonishing 'verse). Set prior to the current run, with vague implications of things that may happen in the future. So vague it shouldn't be spoiler-y at all unless you too are psychic like Emma.
Character/Pairing Emma Frost, references Scott/Emma
Rating: PG13
Tarot: Ten Of Cups
Summary: Emma muses about Scott and their relationship.
Word Count: 400
AN: This is called "Reversed" because I figured it's probably the less cheerful reading of the Ten of Cups.
Reversed
Sometimes Emma wakes up in the middle of the night, because he’s dreaming too loudly and she can’t sleep.
The sheets on their bed are cool and soft, and the wind breezes in through the open windows, and there’s no reason on earth she should be anything but happy. He’s next to her, warm and solid and alive, and that’s really all that should matter.
Except that in dreams, all he wants is someone who’s dead, dead and buried, nothing more than bones beneath the earth. At least, we can all hope that’s what she is.
She’s not trying to be a bitch about Jean. It just comes so very naturally that Emma doesn’t think she could be anything else, even if she was inclined to be more forgiving that her lover was dreaming about a dead woman.
The dead woman he’d loved. The dead woman he sees as sleep fades away, the first thing he’s thinking of when he wakes up in the morning and turns to face her lying next to him, pretending she doesn’t know.
During the day she can forget about it, she can go about her business and take care of the myriad of administrative duties running this place requires, and she can forget the whisper of a name not her own in his dreams. At night when her body covers his, she sees that it’s only her in his mind, and she has that, at least. The woman astride him with hair the color of winter-wheat, tinged soft red by the power that shines behind his eyes, is not the one that haunts his dreams at night.
Emma’s not sure if she’s glad about that or not.
She overhears Hank talking to him one morning in the kitchen, with the smell of Peruvian blonde coffee lingering in the air. The future is uncertain enough for all of us, Scott, especially now. You deserve some happiness.
Emma wants to agree with him, she really does. Except that she knows what the future will bring, and nothing about it is happy. It won’t matter that she loves him, in the end.
So when she wakes up at night with his dreams of fire and death and a woman’s burning smile screaming like a litany in her head, she presses herself against him and closes her eyes, and tries to be happy, just for a little while.