#though they couldn’t be together here at least the letter brought them together

[jmliebert]

Starry Nights belong to lovers

Summary: Gale longing for Tav while being positively miserable (because i love my man being miserable sometimes, y'know...)

smut with (a little bit of) fluff and angst?

Word count: 4,250

Tags: romance, angst, longing, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: because in my last playthrough i was torn between keep romancing gale or losing it all to the polygamist relationship with halsin... ( i chose my babyboy gale tho) but the possibilities are endless and here's one of them !!

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

Well, that was rather embarrassing predicament, to say the least. Gale of Waterdeep, esteemed wizard, lurking in the shadows like a common maniac. Observing a woman of his dreams from afar. A woman who had once held his heart in the palm of her hand, only to cast it aside for another. Positively pathetic, isn’t it? 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like an astronomer gazing upon a distant star, simultaneously drawn to its brilliance and wary of its celestial power. There was something about Tav, something ineffable, yet undeniably captivating, that compelled him to observe her, whenever he had a chance. Mind you, Gale's captivation resided not in the moments of intimacy, but rather in the quiet nuances of Tav's daily life. He found himself drawn to her ordinary rituals, avoiding the intrusion upon her private moments as a matter of principle— he adored watching her writing letters in the soft glow of the evening, tending to her garden with such grace, the quiet reverence with which she communed with nature's wonders. Each gesture, each fleeting expression painted a portrait of a woman both ordinary and extraordinary, and Gale found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of her daily life, there was one thread that left a bitter taste upon his tongue— Halsin. Oh, how he despised the very mention of the name, the mere thought of the druid being so close to Tav and being her lover (whatever that meant in Halsin’s world), stirred a pang of ugly jealousy within his breast. For what claim did Halsin have upon Tav's affections, he wondered relentlessly, when it was he who loved her from the very beginning. It was he who worshipped the ground she was walking on. And finally, it was he who forgot his goddess because of her. 

Still, Tav didn’t choose Gale. 

Well, maybe that statement wasn’t entirely correct. In truth, Tav did chose Gale at the beginning of their journey. They would spend countless hours in his tent, engrossed in conversation and lost in the pages of books. Their laughter echoed through the camp. He took great care to ensure that Tav received the choicest bits during their shared meals and in moments of distress, Tav sought solace in his reassuring presence, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in hers. Though Gale never said it out loud, he felt a swell of pride knowing he was the one she turned to in her hour of need. 

Oh, how he admired her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She was committed to doing what was right, even when faced with the most daunting challenges. In a world this wicked and dark, she was a beacon of light. She gave him hope when all seemed lost, and in turn he offered her his heart, but Tav wanted more, it would seem. 

He saw her talking with Halsin more and more as they were roaming through The Shadow-Cursed Lands. It seemed as though every passing moment brought them closer together. Tav's radiant smile and melodious laughter filled the air as she was talking with the druid. And the way he looked at her, made something inside Gale stir. Halsin gaze lingered on Tav, his eyes alight with admiration, mirroring Gale’s own. It was pretty obvious, yet, when Tav asked him, how he would feel as to having another person in their relationship he was taken aback. His first thought was the baby. 

“What, like a child? I’m not sure I’d consider myself a father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what I would called settled…”

“It’s Halsin. He wants to be with me, but he doesn’t ask that I sacrifice you. We would…share.” Tav's words hung in the air, heavy with implication

Share?

Gale's mind reeled at the notion. “Share? You’re not a loaf of bread to be divided up at a supper time! I thought what we had meant something for you.” 

But apparently he was wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t mean as much to Tav, as it meant to him and the realisation of that made him a truly miserable man. He was also angry, so angry beneath the surface. It was hard to stay at the camp after all this, it was hard to watch them talking, breathing, just being. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Tav. And for that he was even more enraged. How could he be so weak? 

As the time passed and Baldur’s Gate was finally safe, the companions went their separate ways. At first, Gale welcomed the prospect of solitude, believing that distancing himself from Tav would bring him peace. He came back to Waterdeep  and sought solace in his study, surrounded by his precious books and arcane tomes. He threw himself into his studies with renewed fervour, delving into the depths of ancient texts and lost knowledge in an attempt to distract himself from the pain gnawing at his heart, but it wouldn’t go away.

One evening, after one too many glasses of wine, Gale found himself consumed by a reckless impulse. It was a night much like any other, yet something within him stirred, a restless energy that demanded release. Casting an invisibility spell upon himself, he ventured out into the night. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself teleporting to the familiar streets of Baldur's Gate. Near where he knew Tav lived, to be precise. He told himself he was merely checking on her, ensuring her safety in a world fraught with danger. But deep down, he knew the truth.

As he watched her from the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, he found himself entranced by her mere presence. She was brushing her hair, her movements fluid and graceful, her face bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. In that moment, she looked so utterly beautiful, that Gale had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

It began as a one-time occurrence, a fleeting moment of weakness, he told himself. Yet, with each passing day, Gale found himself seeking out more excuses to linger in Tav's vicinity, even if she remained unaware of his silent vigil. And so, he became a ghostly spectator, haunting the edges of her life, longing for a connection he knew he could never truly have. 

Because, how could he? How could he love her one moment only to watch her slip away into the arms of another the next? He couldn’t live like this, even if it’s Tav. So he just watched her, not ready to let go. 

☾☾☾

This particular night, Tav was alone. Halsin was away, tending to orphans he took under his wings after all that happened in Baldur’s Gate. Truth be told, Halsin's frequent absences were a relief to Gale as it was still hard for him to witness the bond he had with Tav. There was an intimacy between them that Gale found himself unable to stomach. 

Gale found Tav in her bedroom, nestled on the bed, a book cradled in her hands like a precious treasure. The soft glow of candlelight bathed her in a warm embrace, casting delicate shadows across her features. She looked so peaceful, so utterly content in that moment, and Gale couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. In another life, they would read their books side by side every night, their fingers tracing the words upon the pages. 

Gale, didn’t know exactly why, but instead of his usual routine of observing Tav from the safety of the window, like a little puppy desperately waiting for their owner to let them in, he now found himself seated in his favourite chair on the other side of Tav's bed, invisible. It was an audacious move, even for him. Maybe, he was feeling particularly lonely that starry, romantic night? Or maybe there was something in the summer air… no matter what, the pull of her presence was too strong to resist at that moment.

So Gale was sitting there, watching Tav and enjoying the warm breeze. Lost in his thoughts, he shifted slightly in his seat, his foot inadvertently knocking into one of the candles seated on the floor. His heart lurched as he watched in horror as the candle toppled over, its flame igniting the delicate fabric of Tav's blanket. Panic surged through him as he realised what he had done, his mind racing with frantic thoughts, his hands on his head in pure disbelief. 

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“Gale?” Tav’s voice, full of confusion, pierced through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Gale's veins. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, Gale summoned a rush of water, his practiced fingers weaving a complex pattern in the air as he cast a rapid incantation. The water swirled and danced in the air, cascading gracefully onto the flames and extinguishing them in a matter of seconds. As the last flicker of flame died out, Gale hesitated for a moment before releasing the invisibility spell that had cloaked him from view. With a soft shimmering light, he materialised into view, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and devastation of a defeated man.

"Hello, Tav," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he met her gaze. "It seems I've made a bit of a mess, haven't I?” Gale asked as the smoke began to dissipate around him.

Now, he was waiting for Tav to be (rightfully) furious at him, but she wasn’t. Instead, she seemed to be…concerned? 

“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with genuine worry, her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. It was a simple question, but it carried a weight that caught Gale off guard.

For a moment, Gale found himself speechless. He had anticipated anger or confusion, not this. His heart felt heavy. 

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief as he struggled to compose himself.

“Good,” Tav said, stepping closer to Gale and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He froze momentarily at the unexpected touch, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t understand how you got here,” Tav murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face in Gale's chest, “and I’m not even sure if I want to know,” she added. "But I’m glad you are here," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I’ve missed you... more than I can put into words." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and cascading down her cheeks as she clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Gale felt his body stiff at first at the sudden gesture, but despite it all he held her close, offering silent reassurance as they stood together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Shh," he whispered softly, his touch tender as he traced soothing circles along her back. With every motion, he felt the weight of her sorrow, the depth of her longing, and his own heartache mirrored in her tears. He fought to hold back his own emotions, to be the pillar of strength she needed in that moment. To be a true man. But beneath the facade of composure, Gale's own tears threatened to spill over. “I’ve missed you too, Tav.” And his words were honest. 

"After we destroyed the brain, you left so abruptly," Tav's voice trembled with emotion, her words carrying the weight of unspoken pain."I thought... I thought maybe you didn't want to see me ever again, that you detested me. And I understand if you do. I know you might think that all we had, was just a facade, a lie, but it wasn't.”

Gale listened in silence, and his heart throbbed with pain. He hated to watch her cry. ”I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hushed cadence of the night. "I never meant to hurt you.” 

"I should be the one apologising," she murmured, her voice laced with regret. "I felt so guilty for leaving you like that, Gale. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, feeling your absence like a gaping wound. And in those moments, Halsin... he was there for me. But it wasn't the same. It could never be the same.”

Gale's chest tightened at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear. "Tav..." he began, his voice choked with emotion and…hope? But before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes, looking for something in them. 

"Gale," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "I want you to know... I love you. I've always loved you." Her words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and emotion. "But I also love Halsin. In a different way, perhaps, but love nonetheless.”

Gale felt his heart sink at her admission, a pang of sorrow lancing through him like a blade. Despite the warmth of her touch, he couldn't shake the chill that settled in the depths of his very soul. "Tav," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you know I'm not... I can't be... I want you all to myself. It hasn't changed since the last time we spoke about this.” And despite himself he added— “I think I should leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, he made a move to leave, to escape the turmoil of his emotions, but before he could take more than a few steps, Tav's hand shot out, grabbing his own with a desperate urgency. 

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "Not tonight. Let's forget about Halsin, about everything. Just... let's be together tonight, you and I. Please?” Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding, for connection, for something to hold onto in the midst of their tangled emotions.

And then she came closer, dangerously close. As her lips met his in a tender yet impassioned kiss, Gale felt his resolve waver, crumbling like sand between his fingers. The warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her embrace, it all washed over him like a wave, sweeping him away in a sea of longing and desire.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Gale's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of their kiss echoing the tumultuous beat of his emotions. And in that fleeting moment, as their lips parted and their eyes locked in silent understanding, Gale surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire. With a surge of strength, Gale lifted Tav effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed. Each step felt like a revelation. 

As he gently laid her down upon the soft sheets, their eyes met once more, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes. With trembling hands, Gale traced the contours of her face, memorising every curve and line as if committing them to memory.

Tav appeared as a vision of ethereal beauty, her form draped in the delicate embrace of silk nightwear that accentuated every curve and contour of her body. Gone were the rugged trappings of their journey through the wilderness, replaced instead by the subtle elegance of her attire. Gale found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on the gentle curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath. There was a vulnerability in her appearance that stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect and cherish her with every fiber of his being.

“Oh, Tav,” Gale said as he enveloped her body in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped her. The warmth of her body pressed against his own ignited a fire within him, a primal urge that had been dormant for far too long. As their bodies pressed together, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him painfully hard and achingly aware of every brush of skin. Tav's hand found its way between their bodies, her touch sending shivers of pleasure racing up his spine as she palmed his growing erection.

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as pleasure rippled through him, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if he had been starved for this connection, this physical closeness, and now that he had it, he was powerless to resist its allure. As Tav shifted her position being on top of him, like his queen, straddling Gale's hips, she moved with a fluid grace that left him mesmerised. With deft fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, her touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his willing body.

In response, Gale reached up to grasp the hem of Tav's nightdress, pulling it over her head with a reverence that bordered on worship. As the fabric fell away, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, her skin aglow with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Gale's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Tav was utterly beautiful, her rounded breasts heaving with each breath, her thighs pressing against his hips as she straddled him. In that moment he knew, she held him in the palm of her hand, a goddess of desire and passion, and he was powerless to resist as he was just a mere human. 

As she unbuttoned his pants and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing penis, Gale felt himself losing control. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, his desire mounting with each caress. Despite his trembling voice, he managed to murmur, "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," she responded, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a tender kiss to the glans of his penis. Gale took a deep breath through his clenched teeth. His arousal was palpable, his desire for her nearly overwhelming as she took him into her mouth with a delicate grace that left him shaking with need. Each sensation was magnified tenfold, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over him in an ecstatic frenzy. As her lips closed around him, he could feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that bordered on sinful.

Gale could hardly contain the primal urge building within him, the intensity of his desire threatening to consume him whole. With each gentle caress and tantalising stroke, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching for release. His hips moving shyly, only to be held down by Tav hands.

“ Tav, Tav I’m close,” he said, but she didn’t stop instead she was sucking him even harder. And when Gale finally came, it was like an explosion of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before. With a cry of ecstasy, he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, his body convulsing with the force of his release as he spilled himself into Tav's waiting mouth, his senses ablaze with a euphoria that left him gasping for breath. The world went quiet for a second, but not long after he felt Tav body on his. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. Her lips, swollen from their passionate encounter, hovered just inches from his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to draw her closer, his fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Gale smiled. 

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock away from her forehead. When he saw a droplet of his sperm lingering in the corner of her mouth, he couldn't help but be overcome by a sudden surge of desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing the droplet with his thumb and bringing it to his lips, savouring the taste of their shared passion as he licked it away. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, Gale felt himself consumed by a hunger unlike anything he had ever known, his hands roaming freely over her back as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. 

Their night was far from the end. 

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire. With every touch, every caress, Gale felt a surge of longing course through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. As his hand trailed down her spine, exploring every curve and contour of her body, Tav's breath hitched in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips as she melted into his touch. And when his fingers finally found their way to the wetness between her legs, she couldn't help but arch her back in response, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, Gale shifted his position, kneeling between her legs as he drank in the sight of her. His heart raced in his chest as he watched her, every movement, every quiver of her body, sending waves of desire crashing over him.

"I need you, inside," Tav whispered, reading his thoughts exactly. Her voice barely more than a breathless plea. Her eyes bore into his, dark with desire, and Gale knew he couldn't deny her. With a tenderness Gale lowered himself down onto her, positioning his penis to her sweet entrance. 

He had imagined it countless times during the lonely hours in his study, weaving fantasies in the quiet solitude of his mind. But now, as the reality of their passion unfolded before him, it surpassed even his most vivid dreams. In her embrace, Gale felt a sense of wholeness he had longed for, a completeness that eluded him in his solitary existence. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Gale focused on the sensation of her body beneath his, the warmth of her skin against his own. And when Tav's hips began to move in a gentle rhythm, he followed suit, his movements initially tentative but growing bolder with each passing moment, encouraged by her soft moans. 

Quickly Gale found himself lost in the heady haze of desire, his senses overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Tav squirming beneath him, her moans of pleasure driving him to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, each movement of their bodies, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him ever closer to the brink of release. He groaned each time he was all in, deep inside her sweet wetness, his gaze locked onto hers with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

As he drew near, his thrusts grew increasingly erratic, his control slipping with each passing moment. Despite his desperate attempts to hold back, he found himself on the precipice of release, his body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek. And as Tav's back arched in ecstasy, her breath hitching, and walls tightening Gale felt his own climax approaching like a tidal wave, ready to engulf him in its powerful embrace. With a low, guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his hands gripping hers tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. With a primal cry, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies convulsing in unison as waves of bliss washed over them.

In that moment of pure connection, Gale surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, his release flooding Tav's depths with a torrent of his essence. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her with abandon, his ropes of cum filling her wholly as they became one. As the last echoes of their shared climax faded into the hushed stillness of the room, Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking. They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing.

Desperately, Gale clung to the fleeting moment, reluctant to pull away from the intimate connection they shared. He wanted to linger inside her, to savor the warmth of her embrace for just a little while longer, before the outside world intruded once more. 

Gale's touch was tender, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Tav's back, lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her hand resting gently on his chest, she seemed so close, yet so far away. And for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect, as if they had found each other's again.But as Gale's fingers sense the tiny wooden duck hidden beneath the pillow, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. It was a stark reminder of the presence they could not escape, a symbol of the inevitable truth that awaited them at dawn. His heart felt empty. What they had shared this night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate grasp at something unattainable.

“I love you,” he said softly, though he knew he shouldn’t. 

With one last lingering gaze at Tav's sleeping form, he turned away, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as he made his way out of her bedroom, finally letting her go for good. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 romance #bg3 imagine #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale x you #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x oc #gale smut #gale fluff #gale angst #gale imagine #gale headcanons #gale in love #oh gale

[urfavbooblover]

Letter with lipstick || Ada Wong x female reader

Warnings: none

(remind me if I missed any)

- Resident evil 4 masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

Earlier:

Sitting on my bed, i stared down at the letter in my hands. Her handwriting was beautiful, less of the words she wrote to me. She’s on a mission again, all the way in spain and couldn’t tell me one thing about it, neither why she was there. “It’s important”, she committed to the paper i was holding.

She just ended the letter with “Love, Ada”, as my eyes landed on the kiss she placed right next to it, with the lipstick she always wore. The kinda red i love seeing on her and she knew all about it. I let out a sigh, “The woman that you are, Ada.”, i said, folding it together again.

Ada and I are close, too close just to be partners. We ‘slipped’ one time and in the next moment you saw our lips all up on each others.

I missed her. I couldn’t stand the thought of now not seeing her again for who knows how long. She’s good at what she’s doing, fulfilling her job just for everyone to be more than satisfied and i was feeling proud of her, for how far she has come. But the thought of losing her, especially when she’s so far away, has taken over my brain.

I informed myself about the situation, asking everybody for detailed answers. Anybody needs to know where she’s at, no? They weren’t down right away to tell me, but eventually gave in. Who were they to stop her from going there? Exactly, she did her own thing, going after what’s happening in rural spain.

“I need you to take me there.”, i commanded, standing tall against them. There was nothing they could do about this either. I’m not easily giving up, someone must have the trust to let me ‘surprise’ my woman. At least that’s what i liked to call it. I know Ada will be more than caught off to see me, however she wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite. I can’t expect much different than a nice welcome.

Present:

Now here i am. I’ve been dropped off by the helicopter and one of my kind co workers who brought me to this place. I can thank him a lot for this, i guess i owe him something but that’s not my worry yet. I have to find her. So i didn’t think much, i rather started looking at the area around me.

It looks like a farm, the area is completely destroyed. I walked over dead bodies, scrunching up my face in confusion. Nothing i’ve never seen before, but someone must’ve been the cause of this. Was it Ada?

I was informed about a little story, so i went careful into this. I was here for only one thing actually. Ada. Whatever comes in my way isn’t as much as important as her, nothing is. No one else. I was ready to be confronted by her pretty self and sped up my walking through the paths and winding ways.

I was prepared for everything. I had my weapons and all that i could possibly need. I’d do anything to bring us both out of here. Anything for us. She surely knows i don’t give up easily and most definitely wouldn’t on her. No one even compares to her and the way she makes me feel. There’s no one quite like Ada.

I needed answers though. Am i really on the right track? I guess i was answering my own questions and thoughts when i came across a giant creature laying eliminated on the ground. Who else could’ve defeated it? She was here, i was more than convinced.

I jogged along the stony and muddy path, when i suddenly heard something. I slowly moved forwards to where those sounds came from, confirming myself that i’m hearing voices. It was all blurry and i didn’t know whose it might be. Till i made out the statute of a familiar woman. My eyes landed on her, my woman.

“No way..”, i whispered to myself, taking one more step towards her. “Ada!”, i shouted, catching her attention. Her body turned around, slightly facing me. I felt something in my stomach, when i saw her face. She immediately recognized me, her gaze softening but then again with confusion written all over her. She was completely stunned and couldn’t seem to move.

“Y/N?”, she said in a questioning tone, as i moved over to where she was standing. I was about to open my mouth, before i glanced down. A man stood there, his eyebrows were furried together as my face expression could be read as jealous. Who the fuck is he?

“Y/N. Look at me.”, i heard her soothing voice close to my face, interrupting my staring interaction with that guy. I slowly turned my head, seeing the slight worry on her. “What are you doing here? How did you get here in the first place? Are you hurt?”, she placed her hand on my arm, only ever showing so much weakness around me.

“I’m okay, Ada. I came here just for one reason, it was a pretty long flight.”, i explained, looking into her eyes that always shined so beautiful. “What about you?”, i asked as she moved her hand down to grab my own. “I’m on this mission, i was doing fine till i saw you. Now i’m feeling even better.”, she gave me a small wink before that strange man interrupted us.

“Uhm? I’m still here.”, he said in a nervous tone, letting out a playful chuckle. “Who is-“, “I have a deal with him.”, Ada interrupted my question, knowing what i was about to ask. She knew how protective i can be of her. Not in a controlling way though, most things i do are out of worry, making sure she’s doing as okay as she always claims.

“I got a name too, lady.”, “I’m Luis. You must be that girlfriend Ada kept mentioning and talking about.”, he continued. Ada’s eyes widened in response as a smirk formed on my face. So she called me her girlfriend behind my back? “Well yes i am.”, i confirmed very proudly, as i could see a rose color appear on her cheeks.

I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, taking her hand in mine. “I missed you, Ada.”, i whispered and watched her nervous state. “I missed you even more, Y/N.” I smiled at her, before looking down at Luis once more. “You surely don’t mind.”, i said, pulling Ada with me as we walked away from that scene.

“Hey! How am i supposed to get up here though?!”, Luis yelled after us, all desperate. We both chuckled to ourselves and i took Ada to a quiet place. I moved close to her body, our face just a few inches apart. “I came here just for you.”, i whispered, tilting my head a little to the side.

“Oh what would i do without you, Y/N.”, Ada responded in her typical flirty voice. “Be glad you have me.”, i muttered, closing the gap between us. It’s been way too long since the last time i felt her soft lips against mine. They tasted just like cherries.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #ada wong #ada wong x reader #ada wong fanfic #ada wong imagine #ada wong resident evil #resident evil ada wong #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil one shot #resident evil au #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fandom #resident evil fic #resident evil 4 x reader #x female reader #x nonbinary reader

[sentientgolfball]

Lightning Strikes Water

Have some Delta elemental transition brought to you by having one too many jello shots over Halloweekend and randomly remembering a convo with @alas--pringles

Words: 2750

Tags: general elemental transition angst, character death

I also used this to experiment with a different writing style so feedback is appreciated :>

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

Alpha, Delta, Omega. The beginning, middle, and end. That’s who they were. That’s who they were meant to be. They were gifts, blessings sent from the Dark One himself to show his approval for the revival of The Ghost Project. They were there to do as the Clergy asked. But they never asked for anything from Delta and Alpha. Water and Fire. Ghouls they had seen hundreds of times before. But Omega, dear Omega was a quintessence ghoul. The rarest of their kind. It had been fifty years since the last one was summoned. And Omega was a perfect creature. The Clergy fawned over him, wanted him constantly near. They filled his time with every task they could think of where his magick would be of use. He became the head of the infirmary. The head of the nursery. The head of rituals and mystics. The overseer of all Ministry ghouls. But to Alpha and Delta, he was their rhythm guitarist. Their packmate. Family. 

Until the youngest Emeritus inherited them from the middle. Something changed within Omega when he met that man. Alpha said he lost his way, became human-like. Delta listened when Omega tried to convince them that they didn’t have to follow Clergy rules to the letter, but he didn’t dare do more than that. Listen. He entertained his counterpart’s ideas to help soothe him when he could. He came to regret this, just like Alpha said. 

Omega had left. He couldn’t travel anymore. He had been pushed and pulled in every direction since his summoning and finally broke, at least, that’s what Omega said. Though, if you asked Alpha he would tell you Terzo broke him. He would tell you Terzo was irresponsible and not fit to carry Lucifer’s blessing. Omega would tell you Terzo opened his eyes to the Dark One’s most glorious gift. Delta would tell you the fighting had become too much. 

Delta came to regret so much. He blamed himself for Omega leaving. You shouldn’t have encouraged his delusions, Alpha would say, but Delta could feel the unshed tears. Water tried to soothe fire but it only made him burn brighter. Delta tried to convince him to stay. I’m not leaving permanently, I’ll be here when you return, Omega would say, but Delta could smell the scent of melting plastic, grief. Water tried to call to the stars but he only floated farther away. 

Delta tried so hard to hold them together. He failed. Alpha became enraged. Omega became a recluse. Alpha was more than happy to leave for tour. Omega was content to stay behind and tend to his other duties. 

The only problem was the missing element. They couldn’t return and finish the tours without quintessence. The balance would be thrown off, all five had to be present. This was one of Delta’s regrets. He watched the Clergy frantically attempt summoning after summoning searching for a new quintessence ghoul. Every single ritual was a failure. Either the circle would be empty when the fires of Hell died away, or the ghoul would be so broken they wouldn’t make it. They had to stop when one of the humans responsible for the mystics died, body exhausted from the near-constant sacrifice to provide a physical representation of the element. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

Delta had come to the Clergy with a proposal. He didn’t tell Alpha or Omega. He knew despite their fighting they would have stopped him. 

He should’ve let them stop him. 

He revealed knowledge to the humans he should never have. His heart ached watching ghouls be ripped from the Pits only to be met with a worse fate. So he gave what he knew willingly. He offered to be their quintessence ghoul. Water was infinitely easier to summon, after all. 

They scolded him at first, It’s rude to joke at a time like this Delta they told him. He clasped his hands, sinking to his knees swearing on the Lords below he was telling the truth. It was only legend in ghoul culture, that one could transform themselves and hold a different element, but Delta could no longer watch his kin be scattered across every plane of existence with each failed summoning. He told the Clergy everything he knew. If a ghoul was consumed by an element, down to their very core, they could change. 

He should’ve known better when the Special appeared, drawn out by the conversation. The Chimera only appeared like that when the times changed. The Clergy looked to their Special ghoul, one who holds the power of all the elements, for confirmation. He assured them Delta was telling the truth, but he added a piece he was missing. 

“You’re correct about the consumption bit, but that’s the easy part. The hard part is getting your body to adapt and accept the element.” 

Delta knew the weight of the words Special spoke, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to be dissuaded. Water and quintessence. Ocean and stars. They were similar enough, the humans even said they were compliments. Both elements were soothing with an incredible power to heal and restore energy. Both elements had the power to destroy effortlessly. Both were great sources of fear and mystery. 

If it was going to be anyone it had to be him. When the Special ghoul left them steps on how to perform the ritual they made their mind up. Delta should have turned back. 

The Clergy would transform him and summon a new water ghoul to take his place. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

Delta was taken into the catacombs of the Ministry, as far from his element as physically possible. The mystics took him into a room where he was face-to-face with Omega. Only then did Delta start to regret his decision. His brother wore his mask, he had never hidden his face from Delta. One sniff of the air told him all he needed to know. There was a storm of anger, grief, and pain raging inside Omega as he went about the necessary steps laid out by the Special. Delta was disrobed, the quintessence symbol was carved into his chest over top of his water one. 

Please stop this he had heard Omega whisper into his mind as he performed his tasks. 

If this is punishment for leaving then have mercy. Alpha has given me enough. Please my Delta. 

He stood stoic in the center of the room unable to meet Omega’s eyes as he silently begged him to stop. There was a reason elemental transformations were a legend, simple mythology. It was dangerous, deadly. As far as any ghoul had ever known there had never been a successful attempt. Delta should have heeded the warnings. 

Instead, he let his heart be influenced by the smooth voice of Special. If the chimera said it’s possible then it has to work. He needed it to work. Time was running out and he swore to give the Clergy results. 

He just wished Omega didn’t have to be present. He couldn’t stand the constant anguish rolling off his packmates, and now he was forced to meet the issue in the eyes. He knew why Omega had to be here, but he wished he didn’t. There was only one way for Delta to become a quintessence ghoul. Only one way for his very core to be consumed by the element. Omega had to bring him to the brink using his magick and pray to the Lords below Delta could find his way through the storm of stardust and raw energy. 

Omega took him by the shoulders, looking into the ocean of his eyes. The last time he would ever do so. He had dug his claws in deep and chanted in an ancient version of Infernal even Delta didn’t recognize. He smelt the pop of ozone in the air before he felt the magick ripple through him. 

The moment it did, he had been plunged into a void so dark, that even his water ghoul eyes couldn’t find the light. It was cold. Unbearably cold. The tips of his fingers and tail were already turning purple. It was quiet and dark and cold for an eternity before purple lighting started to split the black. There was no pattern, no path to follow, simply just pops. He floated like that, drifting in the empty space until he saw a figure in the distance. He tried to call out, but no sound moved within the vacuum. 

But then came the voices. Or rather, voice. It was his own being echoed back to him, distorted and vile. It screamed at him. Making him face every little horrible thought he’s ever had, every fear he’s ever experienced, every miserable memory of his unnatural life. The lightning grew brighter with each rumble of the voice. Delta stood strong against it all. He would not break, not when he was needed. 

That was until the figure appeared inches from his face. It was him. He looked different, crazed. The figure had black holes for eyes that were filled with the light of the cosmos. It grinned at him. It grabbed the sides of his head and Delta felt like his brain would explode. He could feel the secrets of the stars being shoved into his head, could hear them whisper. He felt the spark of life and soul enter his body. He was connected to everything that ever was and ever will be. It was agony. But it wasn’t over yet. 

Audio turned to visual, his fears became real right before his eyes. He watched as the lightning illuminated the faces of Alpha and Omega. Hundreds of them. They cast Delta out. They turned their backs on him. They screamed at each other. They fought each other. They killed each other. They were banished back to the Pits. Hundreds of the horrible outcomes of the months-long conflict swarmed Delta as he fought to keep a level head and make it through the storm with an already fractured mind. 

He thought he had done something right when he started to feel the pain. He assumed the transformation would hurt and so he let it happen. A streak of purple lightning split through the void and hit him square in the chest. Exactly where the quintessence symbol had been carved. It felt like his whole nervous system was on fire. He could feel everything. The life of every soul in the Ministry, the hum and buzz of their emotions. He could feel Omega, every thought, every sensation he was feeling. He could feel the stars and planets looking at him, deciding if he was worthy or not. He could feel the void swallowing the water within him, leaving a chasm in his core. 

The first real thing he felt when he left that place was the cold. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt, even as a water ghoul. He tried to breathe deep, tried to calm himself from the overwhelming pressure of life around him. He felt like he was suffocating. He opened his eyes to see his gills were gone, replaced by wild branching Lichtenberg figure scars that pulsed with magick. Then he noticed his skin. It was no longer the soft leathery texture of a water ghoul, it was dryer, almost like that of a human. It was a different color too. No longer a deep blue-grey, but now a dusty lavender. 

He raised his head to look at Omega. Delta could feel it all. See it all through the eyes of his kin. He felt Omega’s exhaustion, felt the piece of him that was now eating Delta from the inside. He felt sadness. He felt regret. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

He felt alive, more energized than he had ever felt in his entire existence. He learned the parts he needed in the new instrument with ease. He hardly slept. He used his magick whenever he could. Every regret he had disappeared with the success of the transformation. If only he knew what he had caused by being the first. 

He assisted the new water ghoulette, Mist, whenever he could. Being able to feel her emotions was overwhelming. He knew how difficult the transition between life in the Pits and life Topside was, but feeling those emotions again hurt him. He looked out for her the best he could. He started to look out for all his packmates. He could feel everything. He started to take it upon himself to fix everything around him. Omega couldn’t be near him anymore. When Delta tried to read him he was blocked from his mind. This just spurred Delta on. 

If Omega felt all the anguish and anxiety from his pack and still decided to turn his back for Emeritus then Delta would be what his pack needed. Delta would take on the responsibility, he would shoulder the weight of the world. 

What Delta didn’t see through his haze of quintessence was the reason his pack was anxious. He couldn’t see the way his body was deteriorating. He couldn’t feel it, too focused on every other creature to notice the way his body was giving up. Alpha tried to reason with him, but Delta dismissed him. Can’t you see it brother Delta would say there’s no more need for heartbreak. I’ll be what Omega could not. 

He had lost his mind along with his body. He wasn’t Delta anymore. Nobody was quite sure who he was. He shuffled through the halls of the Ministry mumbling to himself with energy crackling around him. He saw things that nobody else could see. Nobody except for the special ghoul who watched Delta from the shadows. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

It was hard to move. Every time he did, cracks of quint rippled from his body. He was dangerous to be around at this point. One stray bolt would leave a person writhing in the same agony Delta was feeling. Or would be feeling if he wasn’t lost in his head. He had been moved into one of the ghoul rooms in the infirmary, left under Omega’s care. He knew his brother wouldn’t make it. Everyone else had hope, that all he needed was more time to adjust. Omega knew better from their connection of elements. He could feel Delta’s mind leaking into the cracks of the void. Soon he’d be nothing, taken wholly by the insatiable appetite. 

Yet he still begged, prayed, and pleaded. He begged Delta to come back to him, to let him into his mind so he could take the void back. He prayed to the Lords below, to Lucifer himself to spare Delta for the mistakes he’s made. He pleaded with anyone who would listen to him so that he may not lose his last half. Alpha would no longer speak to him and now Delta was going to die. 

Alpha, Delta, Omega. The beginning, middle, and end. He was destined from his summoning to this fate. To watch on without being able to do anything. He did his best to make Delta comfortable while the Clergy summoned. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

The last thing Delta remembers is Omega. He can’t see or hear him, but he knows he’s nearby. 

Good. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. The stars called his name, begging him to come home. He wanted to go home. Everything was so difficult Topside. He wanted to rest. The stars promised him rest. They promised him safety and comfort and infinite knowledge. He liked the sound of that. He asked if Alpha and Omega could come. They told him no. He wished his brothers could see the beauty he saw. The colors and lights. The stars promised him the three would be reunited, but for now it was time for Delta to join them. He obliged happily. He couldn’t feel pain anymore. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

He opened his arms as the stars surrounded him, welcoming him into their ranks.

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

He watched as he floated away from his body, glad he could see Omega one more time before he left. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

He became the brightest star next to Venus. 

Omega buried his body near the lake. 

You can’t change. You can’t be quintessence. 

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #delta ghoul #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #era 3 ghouls #the band ghost fic #golfball writes

[fonulyn]

(thank you to @spinitback @birdycage @strands-of-starlight and @flowers-all-around-me for showing interest 💖)

so, imagine Piers and Leon, childhood friends, both in Raccoon City for their first day. that's all you need to know lol. here's the snippet I had to delete from the actual fic;

--

“What the hell is that!?” Piers asked for what felt like the millionth time that night, staring up at the big banner welcoming them into the precinct. There were balloons and confetti, and suddenly Piers was gripped with the entirely inappropriate urge to laugh. He tried to hold it back, he really did, to the best of his ability, but the stress of the night bubbled over and it forced its way out.

So he burst out laughing.

“What’s wrong with you!?” Leon asked, honestly confused, before he noticed the banner and the balloons that Piers was vaguely waving towards. “Oh,” he only said, nodding a little as understanding dawned on him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, if he was being honest with himself. All of those people that had been willing to welcome them here were now dead. They were supposed to be laughing and joking together in the welcome-party but instead they were roaming the building or lying somewhere after getting a bullet in their brain.

Then again, it did look like a goddamn wedding reception if anything, with both their names pinned up on the ceiling and the black and white balloons surrounding the letters.

So in one quick movement he grabbed Piers’ waist and pulled him closer. It was a clear sign of how out of it Piers was that he was taken completely by surprise, and Leon managed to theatrically dip him down into a forty-five degree angle. He tried to be mindful of the hurt knee, knowing that despite them fixing it up the best they could it still was sore and made Piers limp a little. “Want to give me this dance?” he asked, with his best suave voice, but all he got for his troubles was an impatient groan and a nudge to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” Piers huffed, but he couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter that burst from him. “We’re surrounded by death and destruction. Doesn’t exactly make for the most romantic setting.”

With a disappointed sigh that was only half-faked Leon let Piers stand on his own two feet again. He stayed close, though, kept his arm around Piers’ waist instead of letting go of him immediately. The weird burst of amusement was fading, leaving them both standing there feeling melancholy, and after a while Leon took a deep breath to steel himself. “I want to take you out, though,” he said. “If we make it out of here alive.”

“Hey,” Piers said as softly as he could. He brought a hand to Leon’s cheek and made him turn his head, until they were looking straight at each other. “We will. We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, we do,” Leon agreed, and as sad and small as his smile was, it was at least genuine.

#nivannedy #my fics #just a lil one but still #my nivannedy fics #i thought it was cute lol #but it really doesn't fit the timeline anymore 😅

[pen-of-roses]

Lost

Eventually I will stop hurting these boys (gender-neutral), but maybe not for @ockissweek but hey, they've gotten somewhere!

It only registered that they had moved at all when he blinked into a dimly lit room.

He flinched at a harsh sound next to him—Oliver, moving something in front of the door. “Lost ‘em,” they said. “Should be safe for the moment.”

An answering noise echoed in the space.

Eldryn darted further into the place to—likely to do something important his lagging brain couldn’t be bothered to comprehend.

The ground was suddenly a lot closer than it had been a moment before. Oh, he had sat down. Probably for the best, couldn’t collapse if he was already on the ground.

She left footprints in the dust. This place hadn’t been used in some time then. Forgotten and left to fade from memory. Some things were safer that way, like the letters in a drawer he never opened. Others rotted and festered, poisoning everything around them, without any ever the wiser about why everything was so bad, why the whole thing was collapsing, why everyone was getting sick and dying.

That wasn’t right. Some had known, hadn’t they? Had worked very hard to keep it a secret, but not one that was forgotten and lost to time, but passed down and guarded. Planned it all. Planned to pass it down to him too, in time. Greys, would he have accepted? If they had sat him down, explained it all so clinically as the best possible option, would he have been fooled? Agreed even? Greys…

“Evan?”

A shaking hand, so very warm and rough and calloused and scarred, was pressed to his face. He blinked, and the spire and the Coven were gone, replaced by Oliver’s face, pinched in concern.

That ragged breathing was coming from him, wasn’t it?

“Stay, won’t ya?” they asked, hand still on his cheek. “Here, and now. Please Evan?”

He nodded.

Their eyes fell, he followed them down to his hands and—

“Fuck,” they whispered.

The skin, his skin, had gone completely ashen, the veins a dark gray, near black, as they snaked up his arms, disappearing under the stained fabric of the robe. That festering rot a part of him, a part of all of them.

He almost pulled them back to hide them from view on instinct, but their hands caught them before he could, rubbing circles into the skin, pressing them together. They brought them up towards their mouth and he could only stare dumbly.

Oliver was going to kiss his hand, like some knight in a child’s tale. An insane laugh threatened to spill out at the thought.

No, they were only moving them to fan hot breaths over them, trying to bring warmth back to the near dead flesh.

It's all too much, and he is forced to look away, even as he still felt their touch like a brand.

A stray beam of light highlights some of the particles in the air.

“No more excitement for a bit, yeah? No state to be Casting, that’s for sure, least. Can try to stay low and hidden. Know a few—”

“I didn’t know,” he cut them off. “You have to believe me that I didn’t know. Oliver, I swear to you, even if you think me the greatest fool for it. I swear.”

“I know.”

“I never would have gone along with it, any of it if I had known. I would have left the moment I found out. I swear to you. I swear. Please, you have to believe me, you have to know me better than that, you have to,” he’s pleading, though only the Veyrit know which of them he’s trying to convince.

“Evander. Evan. I know. Please.” Their voice is so soft. So gentle.

“Veyrit, I hated you. All this time, and I hated you for leaving them, for leaving me! For not even telling me why. And you let me. You let me, why did you let me?”

Their hands, their warmth, their grounding touch, leave him. Not that he can blame them. The state he must look, drained of magic, tears staining his face, trying not to shake apart, adrift, and utterly lost after everything. As if he had any right to be this broken and seek a claim on any comfort they could provide after how he had treated them.

But then their arms wrapped around him, pulled him to their chest, and he went easily, truly shaking apart now. His hands fist in their shirt and he clings desperately. If he let go, there’s no telling if he could come back. There’s no telling if he even could let go.

They press a kiss to his forehead, long and lingering, before they rest their chin on top of his hair. Their hands are clutched in his robe just as tightly. It felt too much like home and forgiveness.

Both of them had almost lost this. Had lost this. Had had this ripped away for far too long by powers that claimed to know better, know the right thing.

Fuck them. Damn them to the Abyss and let the Grey take them as they had every right.

He pulled back just enough to tilt his head up and look at them. For the first time in far too long, they are easy to read, his own emotions mirrored back at him. Neither of them has to say anything, before they both lean in to each other.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss. It’s too desperate, too charged with everything that has happened and is still unsaid. The position isn’t ideal, his body bent and twisted to reach them, Oliver pressed to the hard floor. Teeth catch on lips and clash together. Both still cling almost too tightly to the other, as if they could press into each other, make a home in all the places they’ve carved into each other over the months and years.

And it's utterly perfect, and they’re both here and alive.

When they pull back, they’re both sharing ragged breaths between them.

“Whatever happens next,” he breathed, somehow finding his voice, “we do it together.”

“Together.”

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #excerpt #ockiss24 #not completely sure how to tag this? #tw: magical injury #tw: body horror #i guess those are best? #evander #oliver rook #evandiver #there’s a humor in this one not posting right the first time i just know

[nextinline-if]

Headcanon Letter from MC to F

The below letter was shared with me recently by Nick @gloomcat-mess and all of the content below belongs to him. Thanks for the permission to share such a beautiful letter! got me choked up over here

There are so many things left unsaid and I don’t have the strength to voice them aloud so I hope I don’t run out of paper before I say my piece. You always said putting things on paper was easier than rambling, “fewer chances of making a fool of myself,” as you put it, though I think I’m too late for that. It’s pathetic, really, someone from my station afraid of speaking face-to-face when I have to hold court every other day. 

I’m heartbroken, first of all. Five years I’ve been carrying this grief, trying to put the pieces back together and failing spectacularly. Whatever is beating in my chest doesn’t resemble a heart anymore, an ugly thing made of sharp ends and raw flesh that hurts like a permanent bruise. I still remember that day, you know? Clear as day. It’s branded in my memories and is reenacted whenever I lower my guard. I gathered the courage to confess, and when you returned my feelings I felt inside a fairytale; I saw us married in the future, best friend and lover all in one. But my dream turned into a nightmare in less than a day. And I had to get used to losing my loved ones one by one, you were just the first in a long list of small tragedies that ensued in the following years: you, my first love, my brother, dragged away to war, my father, who I couldn’t say goodbye to, my mother, having to carry the whole kingdom in her shoulders, and my innocence and joy, fading away a little more each day.

But that’s not what got us here, is it? It’s the fact that you decided to grace us with your presence again just when I was trying to move on, and have a new start. You brought back all the pain I tried my best to ignore. You haunt me, the ghost of this palace who reminds me of everything that could be and wasn’t, you brought back the shame and the feelings of inadequacy, and you made the voice that tells me I’m not worth being loved, being happy, far louder. How can I look for love in someone else when your puppy eyes still make a knot in my stomach? When your voice still roots me in place? It’s not fair to them, but it’s not fair to me either. I can’t love you, because I can’t trust you won’t abandon me again, and I can’t love someone else because the guilt will eat me alive. 

I came home, yet I’ve never felt more lost. 

I became King, yet I’ve never felt more lacking.

They said love heals, yet it’s my biggest scar. 

Despite everything, I do wish you to be happy. Because I know I won’t be. I hope at least one of us is able to find peace in the end. And maybe the Gods will be kinder to us in another life. Goodbye, first love.

#headcanon #next in line if #mc x f faramund #interactive fiction #f faramund #gloomcat-mess

[house-of-galathynius]

Christmas Kisses: Part 1

Happy Holidays @tomtenadia​!! I’m your secret santa, and here is your Yulemas swap! I hope it isn’t too late and you’ll forgive me for my slowness! 

I hope you can also forgive me for not having this completed just yet... but I can promise you that you will have the whole thing soon and more parts as well! So I hope you enjoy the first 4.4k words of this little Christmas fic (that will have a happily ever after, don’t you worry)! 

Part Two

Word Count: 4.4k

~

It was hard for Aelin to ever hate Christmas. It was unequivocally the best time of the year. Who could ever hate the utter magic in the air? The smell of mulled wine or gingerbread baking in the oven, the excited children writing letters to Santa and staying up too late trying to sneak a glance at him. All of it was wonderful and Aelin had loved it ever since she could remember.

Except this year.

It had all started at the end of November when she had been asking her then boyfriend, Chaol, if they should give joint gifts to family and friends. After all, they had been together for three years and were in the midst of looking to move in together. Chaol had been noncommittal about the whole thing and so Aelin had questioned him on it. The result of that conversation had been a screaming match, followed by a lot of crying, and Chaol walking out on her. She had called her best friend, Rowan, and he had come over. He had brought chocolates and ice-cream and all things she would need to feel better. He had stayed until she had managed to crawl into bed and sleep.

The next nail in the coffin for this disaster of a Christmas was her other best friend, Lysandra, breaking the news that her and Aedion were no longer spending Christmas with Aelin and her family. Lysandra had been apologetic but had forgotten a promise to her own uncle that they would spend Christmas with him. Of course, Aelin couldn’t be too angry, but she still felt the well of disappointment growing.

Last but not least, her parents had called her to say that their family home had suffered damage from the cold. The pipes in the ancient house had burst and as a result they had a giant puddle of water growing in the kitchen and bathrooms, and no actual water running to the house anymore. Which meant that they were having to stay in a hotel and would no longer be able to host Christmas. Now, this wouldn’t have been so disastrous if it weren’t for the fact that Aelin lived in a flat with Rowan, and he was already using it for his own small family Christmas— and she had already given up her room for his guests. So now, she was torn between going to stay in the hotel in her hometown with her parents and settle for a depressing Christmas dinner in the one restaurant her town had. Or she could stay on her own in Lysandra and Aedion’s tiny studio apartment and get herself a selection of ready-meals and some outrageously expensive Christmas chocolate and watch movies until she eventually fell asleep. None of those options sounded particularly fun.

However, when she explained her predicament with Rowan, he had laughed at her pathetic solutions and suggested she just stay at their flat and have her parents stay at Aedion’s and they combine their Christmas’.

“Rowan, we barely have enough room for the two of us in here. How are we going to fit all six of your family members and then my parents?” She had gestured to their small dining table which had two and half chairs (one of them had no back support and the legs were all different lengths).

Rowan seemed completely chill about it though. “I was going to see if Luca had some we could borrow from the coffee shop.”

Aelin still seemed a little unsure. It wasn’t the first time Rowan had tried to convince her to have Christmas with him. Last year he had been super close in getting her to stay, only for Chaol to tell her he felt weird if she spent it with Rowan. Lysandra had said it was because Chaol had felt threatened by Rowan this entire time— Aelin had laughed it off, exclaiming they were just friends.

But now, Rowan was listing her all the reasons why their families having Christmas together would be a good thing— exclaiming it had been years since they had all been together and what better time to do it than now.

“Ro, how are we going to cook a Christmas dinner in this kitchen?” She was running out of excuses. Their kitchen wasn’t even that bad either. There was enough room for a couple of them to be in there at least.

“Aelin. It’ll be fine, and if everything goes to shit at least we have copious amounts of booze and a million and one board games we can play.”

So she had finally relented.

In the few days before her parents were meant to arrive, Aelin spent most of her time going back and forth between all the flats, making sure everything was clean and ready. The other half of her time was spent cooking or baking or buying decorations.

The day before everyone was to arrive, Rowan and herself had taken it upon themselves to buy a tree.

“This one is too tall. Rowan we do not have ceilings that high.” She looked at him incredulously. He was standing beside a tree that was seven foot high and looked to be almost as wide as their living room. “Also, how are we meant to get it home?”

“They do delivery.” He stated matter of fact.

Aelin rolled her eyes and then smiled at the salesman who approached them. “Do you and your husband need any help?”

She almost choked on her laugh as he said husband, and went to correct him when Rowan spoke. “My wife doesn’t trust me to pick a good tree. It’s our first Christmas together you see, she wants it to be perfect.” Rowan stepped away from the tree he was admiring and then came to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

She froze at the contact.

It wasn’t like Rowan had never touched her before… they’d been friends since they were fifteen and they had hugged, slept in the same bed, seen each other (almost) naked. It wasn’t like it was new to her. But right now, with his arm around her shoulders, his fingers resting on her shoulder— one of them drawing little circles— she felt nervous.

Rowan seemed completely unfazed as the salesman led them over to a patch of smaller trees. His arm still around her shoulder. He didn’t move as he nodded and laughed, only letting go to stand next to another tree and ask for her opinion.

“It’s too wide.” Aelin said sharply. A pit had grown in her stomach and she suddenly hated that they were here together. She didn’t want to feel the little hint of butterflies, or the way her breath caught in her throat when the sun hit Rowan’s face in just the right way.

“We’re going to be here all day, Ace.” He groaned jokingly.

She tried to swallow the strange feelings that had started to build. Her mood had soured, but she managed to pick a tree that was somewhat good enough and they had even made it back to their apartment with little fanfare or drama. Aelin had barely helped bring the tree up before she was escaping into her bedroom and cursing herself for whatever had just happened.

The afternoon gave way to evening and Rowan had been oddly quiet, only knocking on her door moments ago to see if she would help decorate the tree. She almost choked when Rowan had been standing there with nothing but his christmas pyjama bottoms and no shirt on. His chest hard and muscled and if she weren’t feeling these strange things all of a sudden she might have joked to him to put something on before her eyes melted.

“I’ve made mulled cider and put on your favourite Christmas movie. Don’t tell me that can’t tempt you out…” He smiled so proudly at her and she was unable to withstand it. Aelin reluctantly exited her room and took the cider, having a healthy sip of it before she helped with the tree.

The two of them worked in somewhat easy silence. Rowan placing decorations on the top, places where she couldn’t reach. She would then find a stool and rearrange what he had done. It was their tradition and her odd feelings from earlier seemed to dissipate as they worked together.

“Do you remember giving me this?” Rowan asked amused. He was holding up a red bauble, his name written messily across it, then underneath a small heart in silver glitter, then Aelin’s own name scrawled beneath.

“I remember making it. I don’t remember giving it to you.”

Rowan hummed. “You were so nervous. We were, what? Seventeen? You had just come home from school and your cheeks were rosy and your eyes terrified as you cornered me in the kitchen and held it out in front of me, then ran off as soon as I took it.” He laughed, hanging it on the tree. “I was sure you were going to tell me you had a crush on me, but alas…”

Aelin glared at him. “Why would I have told you such a thing? You were a brute and nothing more than an annoying big brother. I made it because I was bored and my mum found it in my bag and forced me to give it to you.”

Rowan grinned. “If that’s what you need to believe.”

She scoffed. “You thought I had a crush on you?”

“I know you did.” He replied coyly.

Aelin dropped the star she had in her hand back into the box and turned fully to him, hands on her hips. “I never had a crush on you.”

“Aelin, Lysandra told me.”

“Well she was lying.” Gods. Had Lysandra really done that?

Aelin remembered that day well. She had been bored in class and had just been doodling things. She had made that bauble as a joke and then her mother had found it in her bag and had been delighted, forcing Aelin to give it to Rowan. She had been mortified— mostly because her crush had been very real back then. But Lysandra had promised not to tell him.

“It’s no big deal. I had a crush on you too.” Rowan said casually. As if that admission wasn’t a huge deal and had Aelin’s eyes widening in shock. “Oh, come on. Aelin, we spent every waking hour together and you were a girl and I was a teenage boy with too many feelings. Of course I had a crush on you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was seventeen and didn’t know how to.”

That warmth at the bottom of her stomach had returned. Many years ago she had thought about whether he had ever liked her as more than just a friend. She had agonised over it, hoping that maybe he did and he would sweep her off her feet. But when it had never come, she had let go of that foolish fantasy and moved on.

“Don’t worry, Ace. You’re like a sister to me now. I don’t harbour any feelings towards you other than perhaps a slight annoyance at how messy you are.” He nudged her with his elbow before pouring her some more cider.

She didn’t know why she felt disappointed at those words. It wasn’t like she was harbouring feelings towards him either. The feelings she was getting in her stomach were merely that of loneliness from her breakup with Chaol and the time of season.

The two of them didn’t speak any more of their feelings. Aelin shoving whatever it was right down into the pit and ignoring it. They continued their decorating, Aelin finally happy with the tree and allowing them to migrate to the sofa where Rowan put on another Christmas movie.

She was barely paying attention to it as all she could feel was the steady weight of Rowan’s arm around her shoulders and the way that his other hand held her knee, his fingers tracing patterns over it.

“Do you think if we went back to our hometown we’d also meet our soulmates?”

Aelin furrowed her brows and looked to Rowan in slight confusion. “What?”

“All these movies have the main character go back to their hometown and meet someone they’d been to school with or had been best friends with and then suddenly they’re in love and they’d been in love this whole time but hadn’t realised it…”

“The only people left in our hometown are the people who used to bully us. I’m not exactly sure I’ve been secretly in love with any of them for ten years.” She shifted slightly and Rowan moved with her, their new position cosier than she had anticipated. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any feelings towards anyone from our hometown. Nor will I ever.”

Rowan seemed to stiffen slightly at her answer. “You had feelings for me.”

Her stomach flipped. “That was different.”

“So you did have a crush on me.” He replied triumphantly.

She almost cursed herself for letting it slip. For admitting that, yes, for a brief period she had feelings for Rowan.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ace. I mean… look at me.”

She didn’t deign a response, instead refocusing her attention on the TV and ignoring the glances from Rowan every so often.

~

Rowan didn’t know why he was goading her into talking about their feelings. Or maybe he did.

Maybe it was because since she had broken up with Chaol and had agreed to spend Christmas with him, he had come to the conclusion that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Honestly, he wasn’t that surprised. The speed at which his feelings had developed may have taken him a little by surprise, but there had always been some part of him that had just known.

So when they had picked their tree together and the salesman had confused them for husband and wife, he had taken the opportunity to pretend. Even if she didn’t want to.

He had felt like a five year old playing pretend. He had imagined Aelin was really his wife and that they were having their first Christmas as a married couple together. He imagined that they had a nice home that they owned to go back to. He imagined a dog waiting for them, and then his mind had gone further to imagine that after picking their tree up they would be on their way to collect their kids from school. He hadn’t been able to help himself looking down at Aelin’s stomach and imagining a small bump where their newest addition was growing.

Rowan had had to pull himself out of that vision pretty quickly. His heart starting to hammer in his chest. He had been getting too carried away.

But he hadn’t been able to stop himself from bringing up his teenage crush, and when had seen the flash of something pass over Aelin’s face, he had tried to ease the tension by telling her he thought of her as a sister.

Fuck.

A man didn’t think of his sister naked. He sure as hell didn’t get off to the image of her writhing in pleasure beneath him or picture the sounds she would make whilst he licked and sucked her.

He cleared his throat.

Aelin was focused on the TV and he wished he could lean over and brush the hair from her face. He wished he could kiss her cheek and tell her how much he loved her. But instead he made do with just being near her like this.

~

The moment people started to arrive, Aelin felt herself relax.

Until the room situation was brought up.

Aelin had assumed she would be sleeping on the couch and her room would be given to Rowan’s parents. Rowan himself would sleep on the blow up mattress in the little study that came off the living room and then his own cousin and wife and their children would be sharing his room. But apparently Aelin had assumed wrong.

His cousins had brought their own mattresses and had announced they would be making up their own fort slash den of sorts in the living room and study, his parents had uttered that they would take Rowan’s own room and that had left the only available bedroom as Aelin’s, which was going to be occupied by her and Rowan.

Honestly, none of it made sense. But even after Aelin had tried to be logical about it all, they had all dismissed her and prepared their sleeping quarters.

Rowan had just shrugged his shoulders at her.

Their conversation last night had awoken something further in her. And all she could think about now was him. Her stomach seemed to flutter every time they were near, every brush of their hands or smile he sent her way. Their proximity during the day made it impossible for Aelin to rationalise or try to talk herself out of the feelings. And so every hour that passed she found herself struggling more and more to deny what was happening.

The smallest kids had been put to bed and the doors to the study shut. The adults had cracked open the wine and had gathered around the sofa and coffee table to play a round of poker. There were no hard and fast rules with any of them, but payment came in the form of shots or downing your drink and by the time they had played a few times, Aelin was starting to feel the booze.

“Why don’t we play something a little more exciting?” Enda had cheered.

At this point, Aelin had had enough alcohol to give her a nice hangover in the morning. But she was having too much fun and there was the selfish part of her that didn’t want to move from her seat because Rowan was perched right behind her, legs around her as she had settled into his chest. Neither of them had said a word to the other, clearly both happy to sit there and be close.

“How about a game of truth or dare?” Enda suggested brightly, laughing as he did.

The group groaned and Aelin’s father rolled his eyes before helping Evalin off the couch. “We’ll let you youngsters play. We’re going to head back.”

Rowan’s own parents had also wished everyone a goodnight.

Rowan played with some of her hair and leant further back, Aelin shivering at the soft nature of his touching.

“Maybe we should call it a night.” Enda’s partner said.

Aelin on cue, yawned. And nodded in agreement. She was needed in the kitchen tomorrow anyway, and she was starting to get far too comfortable in Rowan’s arms.

The remainder of them gradually stood from their seats and hugged each other goodnight, loitering for a moment. They chatted quietly and then they all looked to Enda who had suddenly gasped excitedly and then pointed to something above Aelin’s head.

“I knew it would get someone.”

Aelin glanced to wear he was pointing and in her drunken haze didn’t seem to register what it was. Not until Rowan was looking up too and chuckling to himself.

“Come on, you have to. It’s tradition.” Sellene said happily.

Aelin was confused, she looked up again and then back to the group. It took a second longer for her to realise and then she whipped her head to the ceiling once more and then to Rowan who was laughing silently at her slowness.

Mistletoe hung above them.

“I don’t think…” She started.

Enda grinned, “you don’t think what? It’s just a little kiss. Surely the two of you have done it before.”

They hadn’t.

“Ace, they’re not going to let it go.” Rowan said. He was pulling her towards him and she was could feel that tightness in her stomach letting go a little, the butterflies starting to erupt once again. And though she had drunk a lot, there was still a little bubble of nervousness as she let Rowan pull her in further.

His hands brushed away the hair from her shoulders. One hand came to her face to cup her cheek ever so gently, his other on her shoulder, slowly gliding down her arm until his fingers found her own. Aelin let him twine their hands together and she was swallowing back the anxiety, the anticipation as Rowan tilted his head in question. Her own nod was barely noticeable.

There was a moment where time was suspended. Where she could see his head moving downwards towards her own, where his eyes were fluttering closed. But everything was in slow motion. Aelin could only watch, she wanted to watch as their mouths got closer and closer together until they were a breath away. Her eyes closed on their own accord and her heart was beating fast in her chest, she could hear it loudly, the sound drowning out anything that was going on around her.

“Kiss her, Rowan!”

And he did.

It was so quick that Aelin wasn’t sure he had even done it. His lips had barely grazed her own and then he was pulling back and laughing, running a hand through his hair and then pulling her away from the group and into her room— the room they would be sharing for the next couple of nights. Rowan was quick to close the door behind him and then he dropped her hand as if it burnt him.

“I’m—“

“You—“

They stuttered at the same time. Then both of them laughing awkwardly as they gestured for the other to speak.

“I’m sorry.” Rowan said.

Aelin cocked her head and furrowed her brows. “For what?”

Rowan gestured to outside. “For them. For kissing you.”

Aelin laughed then. The nervousness from a second ago, gone. Replaced with a sudden bout of confidence.

“That wasn’t a kiss.” She exclaimed.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “That was a brush of lips that barely constitutes a kiss.”

Rowan remained unmoving as Aelin stalked towards him.

“What are you doing?” He murmured.

“Showing you what a proper kiss is like.”

And then she was on her toes and pressing her body against his. Her mouth was careful at first. Her lips pressing over his so gently, testing to see if he would move or not. When he didn’t, she let her hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders until she was pressed further against him. She pressed her lips more firmly over Rowan’s. She relished the taste of him— the whisky and the sugar cookies— he was divine as she slanted her mouth to deepen the kiss.

And then Rowan was moving. He held her hips and he tilted his head so that he could match her own movements. Then he was moving them both, pushing them to the edge of the bed. Aelin didn’t stop him as he pushed her down onto it, his body resting over her own. She didn’t shy away as he deepened the kiss, their tongues brushing and a small moan escaped her.

“Aelin…” Rowan murmured.

She met his eyes and saw the torment. The question of whether this was a bad idea.

But she didn’t have the answer. She wanted him— right in this very moment, she wanted him. Aelin wanted Rowan to kiss her like their lives depended on it. She wanted him to devour every single part of her. And there was nothing she wanted to do more than devour him, too.

But there was that hint of hesitation in his eyes and though the alcohol was probably clouding her judgement, she didn’t want to push him.

So she crawled out from under him and sat crossed legged on the bed, patting the spot beside her.

~

Rowan couldn’t get the kiss out of his head. He couldn’t get the feel of her beneath him, nor the taste of her out of his head. She was exquisite and he could have happily kissed her forever. But he had seen how much she had drunk. He could see the alcohol clouding her eyes and her judgement and though there was nothing he wanted more than to have his way with her, he was thankful she had the control to break them apart.

There hadn’t been any talking as they sat side by side. Although, she had taken his hand in her own and he was grateful for the small ounce of contact. But the room was ultimately quiet as they both went through what had happened.

For Rowan it was unexpected, but welcomed. Although he had been in love with her for a while, it wasn’t like the tension between them had been building up for a long time. If anything, it had only begun the day before. There had been no big intense sense of broodiness— only their normal day-to-day lives. But something had shifted in the lat twenty-four hours and suddenly the love he held for her was no longer good enough being hidden. His silent pining needed to be shouted to the world.

He didn’t know what Aelin was thinking. In some ways he was too afraid to ask.

But luckily, his best friend always had words.

“Should we talk about it?” Aelin asked finally.

Rowan swallowed and looked to her, shrugging.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “We can’t ignore it, Ro. We kissed and that’s not something that best friends can just ignore.”

He knew she was right. But what could he say? That he had been waiting eight long months to tell her that he loved her. That he had been so fucking happy when Chaol had ended things that he had almost proclaimed his love mere days after their break up. Did he tell her that he could only see his life with Aelin in it and that anything— anyone— else would never be enough.

“Ro?”

He shook his head. “I liked it.”

The words surprised them both.

“You… liked it?”

He nodded. Then, “I mean any guy likes a kiss from a beautiful woman.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out. And he cursed himself when Aelin moved away from him and then without bothering to change, slipped under the covers of the bed. One hand reached out to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness.

~

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @fredweasleyhasadhd @luckyrunawaycheesecake @live-the-fangirl-life  @fireheart-violet  @charlizeed @scarblx @xo-fangirl-xo  @wordsafterhours @jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival @becarefuloflove @tanvee1231 @viajandosinalas @backtobl4ck @emily-gsh​ @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart​ @becarefuloflove​ @goddess-aelin @thegreyj​ @leiawritesstories​ @nerdperson524 @rowanaelinn

#yulemas swap #rowaelin #rowan #aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius

[sequinsmile-x]

All's Fair - Chapter 7

Emily and Aaron have loved each other since they were children. War might be the thing that finally brings them together, but it could also be the thing that tears them apart forever.

A Hotchniss AU, set in 1917 and beyond.

-x-

I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you so much for all of the love on this fic. Writing anything is like putting a tiny bit of yourself out there for the world to see so it's always nerve-wracking. Those nerves are 10 times as worse with an AU. People don't like them or are wary. And I am blown away by the comments, reblogs...anything this fic has received.

I want to say a specific thank you to @hancydrewfan and @ssa-sparks for letting me terrorise them consistently, and not just about this fic. @prentissinred for listening to my 3 minute plus voice note about this fic when I first got the idea, back when it was only supposed to be 3 chapters!! And last, but not least, @cloudlessly-light for always letting me bounce ideas off of you and send you random screenshots of scenes.

I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy this last chapter <3

-x-

Words: 5.6k

A list of warnings and tags can be found on the Series Master List

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

April 1919

“Congratulations, Mrs Hotchner.” 

She couldn’t fight the smile that immediately spreads across her face even if she wanted to, her hands curled around each other in her lap, her fingers twisting her wedding ring around her finger. 

“You’re sure?” She asks, her voice cracking like it had when she’d found out she was having Mae but for an entirely different reason. 

“Absolutely,” he replies, smiling kindly at her, “You’re pregnant.” 

The last time she’d heard those words, she’d been terrified. Anxious and alone, grieving the husband she thought she would lose just after she got him. This time it’s different. She feels nothing but joy, excitement bubbling in her stomach, making it roll over for an entirely different reason to the nausea that had gripped her the last few days. Aaron was here, just on the other side of the door of the doctor’s office, waiting for her to confirm the news they were both hoping for. 

It was planned this time. Not the happy accident that had brought them Mae, the very thing she realises had held her together whilst Aaron was away. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

She half listens to his instructions that she remembered from last time, eager to see her husband. To tell him face to face this time instead of writing a letter. To experience his instant response, instead of waiting weeks to hear back from him. She says a rushed goodbye to the doctor and heads out of the room. 

As soon as the door opens, Mae spots her, the toddler escaping her father’s grasp as she walks over to Emily. 

“Mama!” 

“Hi my sweet girl,” Emily says, picking up her daughter and placing her on her hip. Mae grasps onto her, her tiny fist wrapping around Emily’s necklace as if they’d been separated for much longer than the 20 minutes she’d been in the doctor's office. She kisses the side of her daughter's head before turning to look at her husband. Aaron stands and walks over to them, a hopeful smile on his face. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he replies, his hand ghosting her lower back. He clears his throat. “She was asking for you the whole time.” 

She looks down at Mae, smiling at how content she seemed. “Were you giving Daddy a hard time?” She meets her husband's eyes and smiles, “So, are you going to ask me?” 

Aaron looks between his wife and the secretary who was sitting at her desk behind them. She’d made her feelings on him and Mae staying in the waiting room very clear, not so subtly letting him know usually husbands stayed at home. He knows she’s listening, her eyes flitting between her work and them. 

He still wasn’t used to it. To being watched. Since he’d returned from Europe he’d learnt the true practicalities of being Emily’s husband for the first time. How they were watched, how there were expectations. Even though Emily hated it, and made that hatred clear, she was excellent at it. Measured and approachable in a way that Elizabeth had trained into her from an early age.  

He clears his throat, his attention landing back on his wife, his hand hovering just above her lower back as he guides them outside, away from prying eyes. “So are you…”

She smiles at him as he drifts off, his discomfort clear, and she nods as they come to a stop, standing just outside the doctor's office. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His response is to kiss her. His lips pressing into hers in an attempt to get across how much he loves her, how much he treasures her. Before Emily, he’d rarely been told he was loved. He had few memories of his mother, he’d been so young when she died shortly after having Sean, and his father had never been one to show affection. He knew Emily’s life had been similar. That her parents rarely displayed any emotions at all, let alone love or pride towards their only child. Aaron knew it was why he and Emily were so vocal about it, why they told each other, and Mae, often. 

They couldn’t fix the past, but they could change the present. They could curate a different future for their family by actively choosing to be better. 

“I love you,” he says as he pulls back, aware they were still in public and that they would have to wait until they were home, in their safe space, before they could celebrate properly. 

“I love you too,” she replies, clearing her throat as her voice cracks. It hit her sometimes how closer she had come to losing this, to losing him and anything that came with their life together. She thought about it, how her life would have looked as just her and Mae. She would have made sure her little girl grew up knowing she was loved, that her father had loved her, but everything would have been tinged with loss. The colour slightly faded and the picture out of focus anytime they did something and he should have been there. 

Mae fusses in her arms, protesting that she hadn’t had any attention for a couple of minutes in the way only a toddler could. Emily chuckles, bouncing her daughter slightly as she leans in to kiss her cheek.

“We love you too, Mae,” she says, smiling up at Aaron who kisses the little girl’s forehead before he pulls back, ready to start the slow walk back to the estate, both of them desperate for some well-needed time alone as a family. 

“We do, princess,” he adds, “Although you may have to learn to share Mommy before too long.” 

Emily shakes her head at him, forcing her smile to remain on her face. Even though it had been months since Aaron had returned, Mae still clung to Emily like she always had. An unbreakable bond that had formed in the time when it had just been them. Emily wasn’t ashamed of how much she enjoyed her daughter’s love for her, how she’d seek her out even if she were just across the room, but it didn’t mean she didn’t feel guilt when she saw something close to jealousy rush across her husband’s face. 

She knew it was born from guilt from missing out on so much from the first several months of her life, nothing more. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t talk him out of it, couldn’t seem to assure him that Mae loved him no matter what. That they all needed each other. 

“Sweetheart?”

She looks at him, not realising she’d drifted off, her mind elsewhere on things they couldn’t fix quickly, if at all, “Yes, honey?” 

“Happy Anniversary.” 

She smiles for real this time, her cheeks almost aching with it, “Happy Anniversary,” she replies, biting her lower lip as her smile transforms into a smirk, “Your gift better be good considering I’m giving you your second child.” 

He shakes his head at her and he laughs. Mae joins in even though she doesn’t understand what’s being said, and the sound warms Emily from the inside out. 

___

June 1919

Aaron wakes up suddenly, sucking in a deep breath as he’s thrown out of a dream based in what had once been his reality. 

It takes a moment for reality to set in. For the acrid smell of gunpowder and the ever-present scent of death to dissipate, slowly replaced by the smell of home. Of his wife’s soap. 

He reaches over to her side of the bed only to be met with cool sheets. He sits up and switches on the lamp on his nightstand, unsurprised when he looks over towards the door that led to Mae’s room and sees it’s slightly open, light streaming in from underneath. 

He climbs out of bed and walks towards the room, gently pushing the door open just in case Mae was asleep. He’s met by the sight of Emily slowly pacing the room, holding Mae against her as she quietly sang a lullaby. The toddler was against Emily’s chest, her head pressing into her neck. The way Emily was holding her against her pulled her nightgown tight around her abdomen, her bump visible beneath their eldest. 

“Is she ok?” 

Emily looks up at him, a sleepy smile on her face that gives away how exhausted she is. Her first pregnancy had been tiring, but her mother had all but exiled her to her room until the gossip around her elopement had died down. It was different this time. There was Mae to look after, and events that she and Aaron couldn’t avoid even though they wanted to, and her exhaustion was almost bone-deep. 

“She woke up crying,” Emily says softly, still pacing, “I think she still feels sick.” 

Mae had picked up a cold form somewhere, unusual for the summer, and at first, it had scared her parents half to death. Both of them had needed reassurance from the doctor that their little girl hadn’t caught the flu that had been all over the papers and that she would be fine in a few days. It made the usually happy toddler grumpy, and she wanted nothing more than to be snuggled up in the arms of one of her parents. 

He walks over to them and places his hand on Mae’s forehead, “Her temperature hasn’t gone up.” 

“Thank God,” Emily mutters, “I think Doctor Reid would have thought I was crazy if I asked him to come up here again.” 

“Considering he’s about 14 years old, I think he’d manage it,” he says, catching her smile as he, as usual, joked about how young the new local doctor looked. “Want to put her down? She’s asleep.” 

Emily hesitates, a quick tightening of her hold on Mae as if he’s going to take her from her arms, “I…I don’t like leaving her when she’s sick.” 

Aaron freezes, taking a step back from them both. “When has she been sick before?” 

He hates that he has to ask, that he doesn’t know something as simple as this about his own daughter, and familiar guilt climbs its way up his throat. 

Emily stares at him for a moment before she clears her throat. She continues pacing when Mae starts to fuss even in her sleep. 

“She had colic when she was a newborn,” Emily says, avoiding his eye contact, “She was sick on and off the first 6 months of her life.” 

He frowns, his eyebrows knitting together as fury he knows she doesn’t deserve burns in his chest. 

“I was here when she was 3 months old. I was here.” 

“For two nights, Aaron,” she replies tightly, not wanting to argue with him, “She was in a good phase then.” 

He breathes out slowly, clenching his jaw tightly on the inhale to calm himself down, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

She sighs and briefly presses her face into Mae’s loose curls, desperately seeking a sense of peace that she usually found in Aaron. 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“Didn’t want to worry me, I’m her father.” He half shouts, his voice getting quieter throughout his sentence as if he’d forgotten briefly that there was a sleeping toddler n the room. 

“And you weren’t here, Aaron,” she says harshly, the words escaping before she can stop them, “You weren’t here and I was. And I did it all by myself.” She watches as the fight drains out of him, his face falling as her words sink in, and she sighs, tears pressing at the back of her eyes as she shakes her head. She huffs out a laugh, the sound catching on a sob, and she looks back at him, “It isn’t your fault, Aaron. But it isn’t mine either. I made decisions for our family to protect us all - you included. And I won’t apologise for that.” 

For a moment he stares at her, and for the first time, he thinks he can see the impact his absence had on the woman he loves. She looks torn open, as if memories of her time alone, a new mother wrangling a sick baby whilst her husband was fighting a war on a different continent, were haunting her. 

He steps towards her, reaching out and pulling her into a hug, Mae and their unborn child sandwiched between them. 

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of her head, grateful when she leans further into him, “And I don’t want you to,” he pulls back just enough to look at her, his hand cupping her cheek, “It’s just…”

“Complicated,” she finishes for him, smiling sadly at him. She leans forward to briefly touch her forehead to his before her eyes meet his, “Did you have one of your dreams again?” The only answer she needs is the way he holds them a little tighter, the tension in his body saying more than he ever seemed to be able to put into words, “Come on,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Why don’t we all go and sleep in our bed?” 

Aaron doesn’t need convincing, and he follows her to their room, switching off the light in Mae’s as they leave it. She gently lays Mae on the bed before climbing in, and he follows suit. He lifts Mae onto his chest and the toddler curls up on it, her forehead against her father’s neck, and it makes him smile, the familiar weight of her against him one of the few things that could calm him. Emily curls up against his side, laying so she looks at their daughter, her eyes fixed on her little red nose, the way she looked miserable even in sleep. 

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore,” Aaron whispers as he kisses the top of Emily’s head, almost as if he was worried if he spoke too loudly the words would carry even more weight, “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s a promise that she knows he can’t keep. None of them could. The world seemed to be getting bigger, with endless opportunities and dangers at every turn. She could have lost him, and the worry that left behind was like a phantom, always following her. Just one step behind. 

He couldn’t promise it, not really, but the fact he meant it was enough. 

“I know.” 

___

“God I hate these parties.” 

Aaron chuckles at his wife, looking around the room as he does so, “I have to admit, I always thought you exaggerated these things,” his eyes fall on his mother-in-law on the other side of the room. Elizabeth was working the crowd effortlessly as if she was made for this. On some level, the thinks, she was, “If anything you underplayed things.” 

“I told you,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him for his comment about exaggeration, “It’s all just so…false,” she grimaces, her hand pressing into her belly, mostly hidden by the cut of her dress.”

He looks down at her, “Are you ok?” 

She groans as she meets his eyes, “I feel sick again. It barely affected me when I was having Mae, this time I’ve felt awful the entire time.” 

“Do you want me to go find some tea for you, I know that helps.” 

She smiles at him, reaching out and wrapping her hand around his briefly, a small token of affection they could gift each other in the circumstances they were in. 

“That’s sweet, but you’d have to hassle Dave. And he’s busy with everything that’s going on.” 

Aaron smiles before he places his now empty glass down, “Firstly, you’re Dave’s favourite person on the planet, so he’d drop literally everything for you. Secondly, since your mother made me Head of the Estate, I’m his boss now.” 

It was something Elizabeth had decided when Aaron returned. She refused to give him his job back as caretaker and promoted him to Head of the Estate. Emily knew it was to save face with the people she knew more than anything, her daughter being married to the man in charge instead of the caretaker was an easier story to sell, but she was grateful for it. It was her mother’s way of showing she’d grown to accept her relationship and her family.

“Ok,” she concedes, her stomach rolling again, “That would be lovely actually.” 

He leaves her side with another squeeze of her hand, and she watches him go until he disappears out of sight. 

“It’s been a while, Emily.” 

She suppresses the groan that threatens to escape her as she turns her head to find Ian standing in front of her. He’d been watching her from a distance all night and had clearly waited until she was alone to approach her. 

“Ian, nice to see you,” she lies with ease, her society smile painted across her face, “Mother tells me congratulations are in order,” she says looking past him to his wife, a young woman called Chloe, “A wedding and a baby since we last saw each other. You do move fast.” 

For the first time in a long time, she’s grateful for the way she was raised. For the conversations she can have entirely in subtext, allowing her to say something without ever saying it. Ian’s face falls for a second, fury she’s sure his wife is all too familiar with flashing across his face. 

“Yes,” he replies curtly, “A son. We’ve called him Declan,” he looks her up and down, his eyes lingering on her stomach, “And I hear you’re having another one.” 

“Yes, we are, due at the start of November.” 

He chuckles, although there is no humour in it.  “Maybe one day my son can marry your daughter,” he says, smiling at Emily in a way that makes her stomach churn, “We can finally have that Doyle/Prentiss bond we missed out on.”

“My daughter’s surname is Hotchner,” she replies, staring him down, “And I’m not promising her to anyone. She can make that decision for herself when she’s old enough.” 

“Maybe it will happen naturally then.” 

“I don’t think so,” she says cooly, not letting any of her anger show despite her raging hormones, “I’ll teach her better than that.” 

He steps closer to her, clearly forgetting their surroundings, but before he can say anything, she feels a familiar hand on her back. Ian takes a step backwards, swallowing thickly as he does so. 

“Rossi is bringing your tea for you,” Aaron says, his voice tense, before he looks at Ian, “I don’t believe we’ve met officially. I’m Aaron Hotchner, Emily’s husband.” 

He puts his hand out to shake Ian’s and she watches with no small amount of Glee as he clearly squeezes Ian’s hand harder than necessary. 

“Ian Doyle,” Ian says, clearing his throat before he takes a step away from them, “I should get back to my wife,” he looks at Emily, “Always a pleasure.”

She waits until he’s gone, no longer in hearing distance when she looks at her husband, “How much of that did you hear?” 

He shrugs slightly, a smirk appearing on his face, “None of it.” 

She furrows her brows in confusion, “None of it?” 

“You guys were on my bad side,” he explains, pointing at his damaged ear, “But I knew whatever he was saying it couldn’t be good.” 

___

September 1919 

“Emily, I know you were resistant to help last time-”

“And I am this time too,” she says, stopping her mother from continuing, raising an eyebrow almost to challenge her, “I’m fine.” 

“You’re about to have two children under the age of two,” Elizabeth says, staring at her daughter and son-in-law from across her desk, “And Mae is always under your feet because you insist on coddli-”

“If you tell me I’m coddling her again I’m leaving,” Emily threatens, cutting her mother off again, her temper rising. She turns to look at Aaron, his eyes soft as she meets them, and she sighs, taking a second to calm herself, frustrated that after all this time her mother was still able to get a rise out of her, “We’ll be fine Mother. Aaron’s here now and…you know I want things to be different for my children.” Elizabeth stares at her as they come to a stand-off they’d had countless times since Emily had announced her first pregnancy. Elizabeth nods, and Emily takes the chance to ask the question she’d come here to ask in the first place, “I wondered if Mae could stay with you on your side of the house when the time comes,” she says, placing her hand on her bump.

Elizabeth looks surprised and looks at Aaron, “And where will you be whilst all of this is going on?” 

Emily swallows thickly, “He’s going to be with me.” 

Elizabeth looks up at Emily, her eyebrow raised, “What do you mean?” 

“He’s going to be in the room with me when the baby is born.” 

Elizabeth sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she leans back in her chair, “Emily-”

“Before you tell me it’s not the done thing, I know,” she cuts over her mother, “But nothing about this has been ‘the done thing’ over the last couple of years,” she says, her irritation starting to show. Aaron reaches out and links his fingers through hers, a rare show of affection in front of her mother. She sighs, blowing out a steady breath. “He’s missed so much when Mae was small, I don’t want him to miss any of it this time. Not any of it.” 

Elizabeth looks between the two of them, shaking her head as she leans forwards, her hands linked together on her desk, “You’d have to clear it with the midwife.” 

“I have,” Emily says, “I already spoke to her about it. She was there when I had Mae and she said she’s happy for him to be there, barring any complications that would require the doctor.” 

She knows her husband well enough to know that if something did go wrong, if the doctor was called, he wouldn’t leave her side willingly. That he’d have to be dragged out of the room. She hopes it won’t be an issue, that it’s something they wouldn’t have to live through. 

They’d been through enough. 

“You’ve thought everything through,” Elizabeth quips, her eyebrow raised. 

“I always think everything through,” Emily replies, an edge of petulance entering her voice that only her mother could bring out in her. There’s a beat of silence, and then there’s laughter. Both her mother and her husband laugh in tandem, something she’s never heard before as if they are sharing a joke she isn’t privy to. “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her hand as he shakes his head at her, “I love you so much, but that is the funniest thing you’ve ever said.” 

___

November 1919

“I’m huge.” 

Aaron smiles at her, walking the short distance to where she was sitting on the couch they kept in the library. He hands her the book she’d requested and sits next to her. 

“You’re beautiful,” he places his hand on her stomach, smiling as the baby shifts beneath his palm, “I’ll never get over how this feels.” 

“Same,” she replies, placing her hand over his, a wistful smile on her face, “I remember when I first felt Mae moving. I didn’t really know what it was at first but when I figured it out, I’d spend hours just sitting here feeling her move,” she smiles shyly at him, “It sounds stupid, but it made me feel strangely connected to you.” 

His smile falters as it always did when she mentioned her first pregnancy, a mix of guilt and flashing in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, something he’d said countless times since he’d come back to her, “I wish…I don’t know what I wish,” he shakes his head, smiling as their baby kicks, “I can’t wish I didn’t go because if I hadn’t you would have married someone else. Mae wouldn’t be here, and neither would this little one. But I’m sorry.”

She catches his chin and makes him look at her before she cups his cheek. Familiar love scatters across her face, wetting her cheeks like tears. 

“I think about the same thing,” she admits, smiling as he turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand, “And I never really believed in anything, you know that,” she says, smiling as fond memories of the two of them having to be separated at church, the pair prone to giggling during the sermon when they were young, “But I do believe that we were always meant to end up right here. Together.” 

“Me too,” he says, kissing her palm again. The baby kicks, hard, and he laughs, “He’s got a strong kick.” 

Over the last several months they’d gone back and forth, switching between referring to the baby as a girl or a boy as they saw fit. The closer she got to giving birth, her due date now just days away, she felt familiar nerves start to build. Concerns that people would feel disappointed if she had a daughter, a burden Emily was all too familiar with. 

“Mother seems insistent it is a boy,” she says, looking down at her belly, “I think she’ll be disappointed if it isn’t.” 

“I won’t be,” he replies simply, as if he’d been waiting for her to say something, and she looks up at him so quickly her neck hurts. 

“You won’t?” 

“Mae is a mini you, I’m imagining another little girl would be too,” he replies, shrugging one shoulder, “I’ve wanted to spend my life surrounded by you ever since we met.” 

She tries to laugh, but a sob escapes instead, and she wipes at her cheeks, “You are the corniest man on the planet, Aaron Hotchner,” she says, shaking her head at him, “And I am so lucky you’re mine.” 

He leans in to kiss her. She smiles against his lips, keeping her hand on his cheek to hold him in place. 

“I’m the lucky one.”

___

“It’s a girl.”

It’s the second time she’s been told that, but it’s no less special than the first. Relief floods through her as her baby is born, her daughter, and her small cries fill the room.

“A girl?” Aaron says, his voice full of wonder, he presses a kiss to Emily’s head, holding her closer as she relaxes into him, “Did you hear that, sweetheart? Another girl.” 

“Is she ok?” She breathes out. She tries to sit up a little but Aaron holds her still. He’d been sitting behind her throughout the entire time she pushed. His chest against her back, his legs spread so she could rest as comfortably as she could against him. Her steady foundation as her body was pushed to its limit. 

“She’s perfect,” the midwife says, holding her up so they can both see her. 

“She’s so small,” Aaron says, wanting nothing more than to hold her, to protect this new life that was yet to know any of the horrors of the world. 

“Mae was smaller,” Emily says as she’s handed the baby, smiling down at her before she rests her head on her husband’s shoulder to look up at him, “Not by much. But she was.” 

“I can’t imagine her this small,” he replies, reaching out to stroke his knuckle down the newborn's face, not caring that she hadn’t been cleaned yet, “I just can’t picture it,” he looks at the time on his watch, briefly disconnecting his arm from around her, “It’s past midnight, so her birthday is November 11th.” 

He doesn’t have to say the rest, to tell her that their child had been born on the one-year anniversary of the war that had almost torn them apart had ended. The war that had brought them together. Some days, she hates that it’s such a big part of their story, that she knows that without it they wouldn’t be here, holding their newborn daughter whilst their toddler slept just down the hall under the watchful eye of her grandmother. 

“Sorry it wasn’t your birthday,” Emily breathes out, “I know you were secretly hoping for that.”

He shakes his head at her, leaning down to kiss her again, “I’m just glad she’s here and that you’re both ok.” 

She nods and smiles up at him, “Want to hold her?” 

He doesn’t need asking twice, and she gently hands over the baby, smiling as he holds her so delicately, as if she was made of glass. 

“Hi, princess,” he says, laughing through his tears as he looks at her, wanting to memorise everything he can, “You look so much like your mommy and your sister. Which means you’re beautiful, just like them.” 

Emily laughs, the sound turning into a wince as she feels a contraction coming on, “I’m definitely not beautiful right now.” 

“You’re always beautiful, especially just after you’ve given birth to our little girl,” he replies, turning his attention back to her, concern building in his chest as he watches pain flash across her face. He looks at the midwife, “Is she ok?” 

“She’s just fine, Mr Hotchner,” the midwife replies, “this is just all part of the process. You focus on that baby of yours and your wife and I will handle the rest.”  

Emily nods at him, confirming that she was fine, and he looks at his baby, who was now calm and staring up at him with wide eyes, and he feels fully at peace for the first time since he’d made the decision that changed all their lives. 

___

“We need to name her.” 

It was mid-afternoon, their daughter was now half a day old, and they were curled up in bed as a family. Elizabeth had come by in the morning, delighted to meet the new addition, and if she was disappointed that she had another granddaughter, she mercifully didn’t show it. She’d left Mae with them, the toddler fascinated with her baby sister, and the four of them enjoyed their first few hours together as a family. 

“I named Mae,” Emily whispers, not wanting to wake the newborn lying on her chest, she smiles up at her husband, “You should name her.”

He looks past his wife and his newborn daughter to the toddler sleeping half on top of Emily, her head resting on the opposite shoulder to their newborn. She’d loved meeting her sister, but had refused to leave her mother’s side once she’d made it there. She’d been anxious at being separated from Emily as soon as her labour started, prolonged distance from her mother was not something that had happened very often in her short life. Aaron loved their bond, the unbreakable force of it, but in his worst moments he envied it. Fury he couldn’t direct anywhere but at himself for missing out on so much of his oldest’s life. 

He looks back at the baby and smiles, a name immediately coming to mind. 

“Daisy,” he says, stroking his finger over the baby’s cheek, marvelling at how soft her skin is.

She thinks of the day everything between them changed. How she’d sat in amongst the daisies that morning, unaware that by the end of the day, she’d be suggesting they get married. She thinks of the pressed daisy in his first letter to her, the one he had planned to leave behind with no explanation, that she now had in a frame alongside their wedding photo. A flower as simple yet as beautiful as their love for each other.

She thinks of the letters, the dozens of letters they exchanged whilst he was gone. Daisies drawn in the corners of each envelope from him. Now organised with the ones she’d send in response. A catalogue of their love together bound together with twine and the time that had passed. 

“Daisy,” Emily repeats, tasting the name in her mouth, imagining herself saying it for years to come. For the rest of her life. She smiles, her cheeks aching with it, “Daisy Elizabeth Hotchner.”

“You like it?” He asks, a shake to his voice he hadn’t expected as she nods. She reaches out for him with the hand that isn’t securing Daisy to her chest and she cups his cheek, guiding him down for a kiss. 

“I love it,” she replies, kissing him again before allowing him to pull away, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, pushing some hair behind her ear, staring at her with such adoration she thinks she should be embarrassed, but she isn’t. Because she feels the same way about him. 

They lapse into silence, a comfortable blanket laying over them, their future clear for the first time since she’d burst into his old home, anger flowing off of her like love did now. 

“Aaron?” She says quietly, and he looks at her, his eyes meeting hers as he pulls her and therefore their daughters into his arms, making sure he has all of his girls in his embrace. 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She smiles at him, the mischief he had fallen in love with as a boy flashing through her eyes and he knows what she’s going to say a second before she says it. 

“You know daisies are weeds, right?” 

Aaron shakes his head, an amused smile breaking over his face. He kisses her, putting all the love he can into it, knowing he could live one hundred years and never be able to put it into words. 

She always said he’d saved her. From a marriage she didn’t want with a man she could never love, from the life her mother had always forced on her. But she’d saved him. Gave him a reason to make it home, a beacon of light to guide him even in the darkest of moments. 

They’d saved each other, and he knew they’d spend the rest of their lives doing the very same. 

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss AU

[rainbow-nerdss]

Beacon

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 26: Lighthouse Buddie, 1.6k Read on AO3

The life of a lighthouse keeper was a lonely one — that’s what Buck assumed, anyway, based on movies, on books, on everything he’d heard about them before. It was an isolated tower, in the middle of the ocean, the only connection to civilization being the boat which delivered supplies every couple of months.

It sounded nice, when everyone who he’d even allowed into his life left bruises on the soft parts of his heart, and they ached. 

He dreamed of living in a lighthouse, a quiet life of tending the lantern, keeping the beacon alight, sending out a message of safety, of hope for those who sailed on the dark, treacherous waters. It couldn’t all be easy, of course. He knew that. He knew days would come when a storm would hit, or snows came, and he would have to fight to keep the light shining, or sound an alarm to compensate for poor visibility, or when he would have to take his own little boat out and help people who hadn’t seen his light in time, or who hadn’t been able to fight the waves. 

He’d celebrate the wins, and mourn the losses, but he’d be doing something worthwhile, and protecting his own fragile heart in the process.

He should have known that wouldn’t be all there was to it. If he’d thought for more than a minute, he’d have known that nobody could operate a lighthouse on their own — it needed someone twenty four hours a day, and he’d have to sleep at some point.

Buck arrived at the lighthouse and started the long process of settling into the little cottage at the base of the tower, watching and paying about as careful attention as he could to Bobby, the outgoing keeper, as he showed Buck the ropes. He had no idea there was another new keeper until the boat arrived, and Eddie Diaz got off. 

“Buck, this is Eddie, he’ll be your partner. Eddie, this is Evan Buckley.”

They got off to a rocky start, to say the least. Buck got along just fine with Bobby, because he was there to teach Buck how to survive out there, but Eddie? He was an interloper, an intrusion into the life Buck had envisioned for himself out here. 

Buck ate his meals alone, and avoided any and all conversation which wasn’t strictly necessary to the operation of the lighthouse. Eddie tried to engage a handful of times, but he grew tired of Buck’s cold shoulder soon enough.

A picture of Eddie with a young boy hung on the mantel, and Buck resisted the urge to ask about him, to ask why Eddie was here, and not with him. 

And then the storm came, and it was so much worse than Buck had imagined. The two of them had to work together, keeping the light shining, sounding the siren. The wind howled loud enough that Buck couldn’t hear his own voice shout out. All he could see was rain and waves and water crashing against the rocks, and he was tired to his bones by the time the sea calmed again. 

All the while, though, Eddie was there. Eddie, who didn’t need to hear his hoarse shouts to know what he needed, and Buck was surprised to learn he knew what Eddie needed without needing to hear him, either. They had each other’s backs without needing to ask.

The next morning, soaked to the skin and exhausted, the two of them sat together, looking at the calm waters which were almost mocking in their serenity.

Buck nudged Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “Nicely done, Diaz.”

Eddie smiled at him, and just like that, the tension was broken.

The first shipment of supplies brought with it a packet full of letters from Eddie’s son, Christopher — some in his shaky, childish handwriting, others in a loose, flowing cursive. Eddie handed back a similar pack of his own letters, and frowned when Buck had none.

Eddie showed Buck Christopher’s letters, and spoke about him with a pride Buck couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

“Why are you here, then? And not with them?” Buck regretted the question immediately, but Eddie gave him a tight smile.

“It’s… complicated. I wasn’t good at being a husband, and I wasn’t good for Chris, either.”

“I don’t believe that,” Buck said simply. The Eddie he knew was everything someone could ask for.

In return, Buck told Eddie about his family, the parents who never cared, the sister who left. 

And they grew closer. Buck took charge of their rations, since Eddie proved hopeless in the kitchen. Eddie, in turn, washed up after him, and they ate together every evening. They lived, worked and spent their time side-by-side, and Buck never once grew tired of Eddie’s presence. 

Months passed, and the next shipment brought visitors — Bobby coming to check in on them, and…

“Chris!” Eddie practically fell down the steps when he caught sight of the boy leaning against the railings on the boat’s deck. 

Buck stayed where he was in the tower, watching out the window as Eddie ran out the front door and met his son on the little dock, pulling him into an embrace. Buck sniffed. The way Eddie loved that kid… there was no way he’d stay away from him much longer. 

Briefly, Buck entertained the thought of Christopher joining them here. He could take the smaller of the two bedrooms in the cottage, and they could show him the ropes, the three of them carving out a life for each other. He cast the idea aside, knowing if he let himself indulge in those thoughts, it would be so much harder to see him say goodbye.

Christopher was an amazing kid, though. When Eddie finally called Buck down to say hello, he introduced them and Chris spared no time in hugging him tight. “Dad’s told me all about you in his letters!”

Buck almost cried, after Eddie led the kid to the cottage so they could share a meal before the boat had to go. 

While Eddie gave his report to Bobby, Buck gave Chris a piggy-back up the spiral staircase to the lantern, and showed him how they trimmed the wicks, let him carefully polish the piece of the lens he could reach, then helped him count the boats he could see on the horizon. That’s where Eddie found them, an hour later, Buck’s arm wrapped protectively around Christopher’s middle in case he slipped. 

“Boat’s leaving soon,” Eddie said. “You ready to come back down?” 

Christopher cried and yelled when Bobby brought him back onto the boat, and Buck tried not to let it break his heart as he saw Eddie try and fail to hold his composure, as he fell to the ground as soon as the boat was out of sight.

Buck crouched next to him, letting him fall into his arms, holding him through it until he was able to make his way back inside. Buck made him a cup of tea, but Eddie pushed it away. “I’m going to take the first watch,” he said in a hollow voice, walking to the stairs and leaving Buck on his own.

When Buck relieved him of duty later in the night, he lingered on top of the tower, but neither of them spoke.

Months passed, and they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t acknowledge the pain in Eddie’s voice as more boats came and went with letters but no visitors. 

Finally, Buck couldn’t take it any longer. He wanted to cauterise the wound, get the loss over and done with. 

“You’re not staying, are you?” he asked one evening, when the two of them were sitting in the cottage, Eddie re-reading another of Christopher’s letters. 

Eddie looked up, frowning in confusion. “What?”

“You miss him, Eddie. Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking of going home.”

Eddie set down the letter and stood, walking over to where Buck was and sitting next to him. “Buck, I’m… I do miss him. And I hate being away from him, but… You have to know, this is home. Here, this cottage, with you.”

“Then, what—”

“I’ve written to Bobby. Next month’s mail, he’s going to let me know whether it’ll be possible for Chris to move here. There’d need to be more frequent ships, ways of getting him to and from school, but… I was waiting to hear for sure before I asked you. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

That image, from all those months ago, the one Buck had forcibly suppressed for so long, comes back in full force. Christopher here, the three of them sharing the cottage, waking up early on Eddie’s days to man the lamp and making pancakes for himself and Chris, coming back after a long, stormy night to the two of them, cosying up by a roaring fire. Quiet days where nothing much needs to be done, sitting like this, playing games, living a life.

“Buck, say something, please? Would you be… okay with that?”

And Buck… he didn’t think, didn’t pause to wonder if it was a horrible idea, just took Eddie’s face in his hands and kissed him.

A year on, and Buck was happy. Bobby may have been retired, but he’d agreed to make more regular trips out, escorting Chris to school on the mainland when Buck and Eddie couldn’t. Buck moved into Eddie’s bedroom, and his own was redecorated for Chris to live in. Letters were replaced by excited retellings of his days in his new school, drawings pinned to the walls and the fridge, and he even got a letter from Maddie.

It was hard, sometimes. When a particularly bad storm hit, and Buck and Eddie were both needed to keep things running in the tower, worry for Chris carrying them through to the break of the storm, when they could go home together. 

It was a life — a happy one. And Buck loved every moment of it.

#my fic #au gust 2023 #au gust fills #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic

[spice-and-fire]

a helping hand ❀ meera & lilian

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Bread Cemetery PARTIES: Meera @the-haunteang and Lilian @the-lil-exorcist SUMMARY: Meera takes the first step in being more active with the ghosts by seeking out the Ballards' help. Lilian offers reassurance. CONTENT WARNING: None

Meera looked around as soon as she entered the bakery. She hasn’t visited the place since she was but a little girl, her memory of her last visit quite faint. All she could remember was that her late grandmother had brought her there for a treat, though the old lady left her at a table with another kid while she talked about something mysterious with an equally mysterious person. Now it was Meera’s turn to do the same, though she was there for a specific…exorcist.

Before she passed, Meera’s grandmother had left the tea shop owner a letter, advising her to seek out the Ballard family should she finally decide to get more involved with the GhostBusters. No, not those Ghostbusters…apparently. Meera also laughed when she first heard of them, thinking it was all a joke. Now, with the sudden spike of weirdness in town, she was left with no choice if she wanted to keep herself and her friends safe. She had to meet Dan Akroyd.

“H-hello?” Meera softly spoke as she approached the counter. “I’m looking for…a Ballard.” She had already forgotten the name her grandmother had told her, which was conveniently not even specified in the old woman’s final letter. Still, she hoped her name still held weight, and if not, maybe the bakery’s owners will at least understand her…predicament. “My grandmother was Shabana Sharma. She said to get in touch if there was…something strange in the neighborhood…but no crossing streams…get slimed?”

Lil stretched in her seat as she hoped that the day would go by quickly enough. It wasn’t that she wanted her days to turn into nights -she had too much to do at night lately - but when she sat still it was harder to keep herself awake. She really didn’t want to fall asleep, nightmares clouding her slumber were enough to try and keep awake. Which meant she really wanted to move. 

Still, as she saw the next customer come in she sat up straight waiting to make the pitch when the other started - saying something odd. Tilting her head slightly she said, “Hello. I mean if any old Ballard would do, I am.” Lil said wondering if this wasn’t something about the bakery. It wasn’t odd for people to come in to ask about ghosts and exorcisms and the like. While on paper the two businesses were separate, they always worked together to make sure people knew that they were a pillar in the community. 

“Name is Lil - oh?” she said as the other proceeded to tell her about her grandmother who’s name did sound - familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. At the references to ghostbusters Lil couldn’t help but laugh as something clicked. It wasn’t odd for other people to not want to talk about ghosts and things in public, so she figured that must be what was happening. She also vaguely remembered what the name was from.  “Sorry - I’m not laughing at you. I just figured it out.  Are you part of a medium family then?” Lil asked as she got up to go to the front to turn the open sign to closed. It was getting to the end of the day anyway. “What’s up?” 

Meera offered the other woman an awkward smile, the most she could muster of a smile, given the current situation. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, exactly, or how to say what she wanted to say. Was it odd that she was coming here out of the blue and referencing her late grandmother? Of course. Was it odd that there was apparently such a thing as a medium family? Definitely. But Meera has been seeing the ghosts of her dead relatives, some she hadn’t even met while they were alive, for years now, so ‘odd’ was just a part of her life now. “I-It’s fine.”

“Should we talk somewhere more private?” Meera looked around, all shifty-eyed like, as if what she was about to share was a state secret. What kind of state? Most likely just the state of paranoia. Meera had never discussed anything of the sort with anyone else. Not even her mother. Or her grandmother. In fact, the only reason she knew about the Ballards and the old woman’s relationship, or whatever, with them was through a letter, signed and sealed, only given to her after the old woman had passed away. “I’m not entirely sure how these conversations go. I’m not…experienced.”

Lil noticed that the other was anxious and wondered lightly if it was something that she had done. After all, most people did seem to be at least a little off put by her. Part of her wondered if even her explanation of laughing hadn’t helped. She had just wanted to relieve the nerves. 

Still, she listened intently at the others' questions and said softly, “We’re fine here unless you’d feel more comfortable going up stairs. No one who works here is going to be surprised by what you’ve got to say.” After all, despite how much love the bakery had, it was always a front for the exorcist family. It was easier to talk to people with a small local business, and in many ways became a local way of people contacting them. While any business would have done - June had picked a bakery. “No worries. You can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll try to answer it. I’m assuming you see Spirits then? Have you been having trouble?” 

It after all wasn’t uncommon for mediums to have trouble that they needed an exorcist to help with. It was one of the reasons her and Jonas worked well together, but it wasn’t uncommon for Mediums to not work with an exorcist all the time and only call them in when they needed them. Although it was odd for her to ask Lil - someone who she probably shouldn’t be talking to if she was a Ghostbuster. She was, however, going to wait for that judgment until after she heard the other out. To break the tension Lil said lightly, “Hey why don’t I get you something to drink and maybe a pastry and you can tell me what you need. We’ve got some sodas, tea, and coffee if you’d like one of those.” 

“Oh,” Meera took another look around them before settling in the closest seat to her and Lil. She didn’t want to be more of a burden than she already was, so if her hostess said there was fine, then there was fine. “I see, then it’s okay here then.” 

Meera fixed her hair back, tucked what she could behind her hair, buying time for her nerves to also settle down. She had never talked to anyone else about her…abilities, not even with her mother, even though she should have. It was always more of an implied thing between them, and talking about it would just make it all the more awkward. But her mother was gone, and it was just her now. “Y-yes, I do,” she heaved a sigh as she admitted to it, feeling as if a heavy burden was already lifted from her shoulders. “I’ve been seeing them since I was a child, especially my…own people.”

Was it weird to refer to her dead relatives as her own people instead of, well, her dead relatives? Meera thought that might be, considering she wasn’t really seeing as much of ghostly strangers than she was of her ghostly relatives. “That would be nice,” she gave her kind hostess the warmest smile she could muster, though it only came off awkward and not all what she wanted it to. “Tea would be fine, if you have it, but whatever’s readily available should also do.”

“Yeah, no one’s gonna make fun of you here. Promise, anyone who works here is at least familiar with Mediums so they aren’t going to give you any weird looks,” Lil said softly. It was something that she’d been worried about when she was younger and she knew enough that most mediums weren’t treated the best by the wider world. It didn’t make it easier that their were frauds, and while she didn’t know the background of Meera she wanted to be careful about that. 

Lil tilted her head a bit at the admission. It wasn’t uncommon for people to see loved ones, but it was an odd phrasing. Also - if her family was full of mediums it was at least different then the Ballards. She was pretty sure her dad would rather be exorcized then be trapped as a ghost. He wouldn't want to follow her around. Still she nodded and instead said, “So your family? That must be difficult at times.” 

At the confirmation Lil said, “It’ll be no problem. We’ve got a kettle that I’m pretty sure is still hot .”  With that she started to where the beverages were fixing up the tea, still conscious that the other was alone she continued talking, “ I hope black tea is fine. We’ve got some sugar and I can get some milk too if you would like some.” She poked her head back out putting a styrofoam cup with hot water and a tea bag in it - carefully grabbing sugar packets and a small pint of milk for the other as well, hiding her own soda in her pocket. “There we go. Okay.” Lil gave the other a smile, and paused to let the other speak knowing that she had the tendency to rush people and not wanting to rush Meera who looked like she needed to think. 

Meera heaved a sigh of relief at Lil’s reassurance. It felt like a constant battle, a constant concern, where she had to always check herself and her surroundings, always careful not to get spooked by an unexpected visit, an unwanted appearance, from these ghosts and also not to spook those around her who were fortunate enough to be blind to such presence. “That’s very good to know. Thank you.”

“Yes,” Meera cleared her throat, as if something sticky had clogged it, even though there was nothing there, nothing but the uncertainty of when the next spectral intruder might appear without any warning. “My family, I believe, some of whom I’ve never even met.” What a curse, to be blighted by your own ancestors, unable to close the door against them, to pretend you weren’t at home, to hide from their haunting visage. 

“Very difficult. Sometimes they’d just pop up and I’d get spooked and it’d be during a conversation with someone new or some other situation where it becomes awkward for me and someone else…” Meera hoped that would not be the case here as she smiled and nodded at the preparation of the tea, delighted that someone else was finally doing that for her here. “Black tea would be wonderful.” Once she had warmed herself with a quick sip, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Where should I begin? Is my grandmother familiar to you? Is…GhostBusters?”

“No problem,” Lil said with a gentle smile fighting back the urge to tell the other not to thank her. After all, the fae were rare and it didn’t seem like Meera was practicing at the moment. Right now it was more important to figure out why the other medium was concerned enough to come here for help. 

Lil’s eyebrows went up in a bit of a surprise. She hadn’t heard anything like that ever happening, although Meera already looked like she was about to faint with everything she was telling Lil she didn’t want to press and not help the medium. Instead she listened to what she was saying and sat down. After all, she was already brave enough to come to a stranger to talk about something most people whispered about, and Lil wasn’t going to let that bravery go to waste by interjecting. 

“Yeah, it can be pretty disruptive. I’m actually banned from a lot of places because of that,” Lil said sheepishly trying to connect a little. After all, ghosts could cause a lot of problems and when you’re left holding the bag it made it seem like it was your fault. Taking her own soda out of her pocket she waited for a moment and considered the questions. “You can start wherever would help you the most. - I don’t know if I ever met your grandma, but my mom probably did.” After all, Lil was hardly the one that anyone should go to in the medium world to connect with. Her reputation was toxic to say the least, and while perhaps Jane’s might also be rather bad in certain circles for being a demonologist she was a very competent one that managed to keep some of her reputation. 

Lil had never bothered after the ghost incident. So when Meera asked about the Ghostbusters she couldn’t help but want to stall, but tried to suppress it. “Yes. It is an organization of mediums and exorcists that allow you to get some training and other perks. Generally speaking you can get in fairly easily if you're a medium, and with your family I’m sure you wouldn’t have much problems if that’s what you are wanting. I’m assuming your grandma was familiar with them?” She tried to be neutral, but she knew that as soon as the other got there she probably wouldn’t like Lil much. Still, while she didn’t trust them for her they weren’t necessarily an awful organization either. They just didn’t believe her. 

Banned? Oh, no! Meera felt something get stuck in her throat that she had to swallow. There was some relief that washed over her when she realized she has at least not been banned from anywhere yet. However, it seemed that it might not be long before that happened to her, too. Not unless she actively pursued help from the organization. Days of ignoring the familial ghosts had never led anywhere, least of all their definitive departure, with each and every one of them just popping back a few days or even weeks later. It was definitely getting out of hand, and it wasn’t something she’d like to continue for much longer. 

So, Meera decided to start from the very beginning, though most of it was trivial and not at all useful. She shared her family history, mostly from her point of view, how her parents left town to try and live a normal life, only for the ghosts to follow them to Mexico. When she was born, her father died, his ghost disappearing with his twin sister’s, the same sister that had since reappeared not too long ago. For far too long, she’s ignored their family’s curse, but ever since that visit, ever since her twin sister came to her in a fever dream, she realized she needed things to change. Starting with her.

“My grandmother was,” Meera heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “But she passed before she could tell me how to keep in touch with them. All I know is that my mother was able to get me a membership, but with her passing as well, I’m left with no one to point me in the right direction.” It didn’t help that she burned the box with all the medium-related stuff her mother and grandmother had left her, a decision she now regretted. “My grandmother did say I should go to, well, here, if I ever needed any kind of help with such matters…”

“Do they have an e-mail or office I could go to and maybe get something like an ID of sorts?” Meera winced, a little embarrassed at her lack of understanding at how the organization actually worked. “Also, is there like a fee or something? Because I have not paid or been paying anything since my mother and grandmother passed.”

Lil listened quietly, letting the other speak about her life thoughtfully and bravely. It wasn’t easy - most medium’s lives were not considered the common tragedies of life- but it seemed acutely unfair on Meera. Lil knew that fairness wasn’t guaranteed or regularly offered by the universe, but she did want to help the other Medium tip the scales into her favor. Especially with the idea of - well Lil didn’t know what she would do if Jonas was a ghost in front of her. 

“I see,” Lil said softly knowing that the other had put a lot of trust in the one Ballard that really couldn’t help her well. Lilian wasn’t ever proud of her ban - it ranged mostly from contempt to betrayal to the quiet acceptance of an unfairness of life - but right now she felt worse than most times. “Your grandma was right - although we’re going to have to wait for my brother to come back. He can get you to the ghostbusters, though and walk you through everything. I - can’t anymore. I was banned when I was younger.” It felt awful to do, knowing that she couldn’t be there for her. 

“They have both, and Jonas can get you through all of that process I’m sure. If you want to do it by yourself though, I can show you the process. It’s pretty easy to do.  You’ll get a membership card,” Lil continued knowing this information at least. “There’s a joining fee and a small annual fee. They won’t care if you haven’t been paying because your membership is different from theirs.” After a pause Lil said softly, “If you ever need help though - and you feel like they can’t - know you can always come here and we will do whatever we can do.” 

Meera felt as if a huge weight was lifted off of her shoulders. The only greater feeling would have been if her ghostly ancestors decided to leave her alone right then and there, though she didn’t think she’d have that kind of luck on that front. For now, she had what she needed. Well, the baby steps to get what she truly needed. Someone who knew more than she ever would, someone who could show her the ropes, and…they were apparently off somewhere. To be fair, though, Meera already felt the same of Lil. It was the latter’s own words that pointed her in that direction. The same way her grandmother’s last words pointed her in this one, a path that could save her sanity and the rest of their spectral kin. 

“Banned?” This time, the word slipped through Meera’s lips before she could weigh them, filter their necessity and sensitivity, ensure that she would not offend anyone, most especially the most useful person in the world to her right now, by losing her tact. Tact… Was that even a word? Meera found herself distracted by that thought for a bit before shaking her head and apologizing for having misspoke, if she even did. “How did you get banned?” Did she commit a crime so grievous, the organization of mediums had to expel her from their sisterhood? What kind of crime would even be that grievous? Meera was suddenly feeling a tightness in her throat, now concerned of the girl before her. “It wasn’t, like, life-threatening or something, right?”

“M-maybe I can try on my own,” Meera tried her best to muster a smile but what formed on her face was a little more wary and a little less warm, as if she had just found a bee in her home and she was allergic to getting stung. “I mean, I don’t want to be a bother to you and…Jonas?” Where has she heard that name before? Odd. Shaking that distracting thought away, a warmer, less worried smile found its way on her lips when the other medium assured her of her help. It was a great feeling on its own, realizing you weren’t on your own, that there were people out there, here, like you, and they were willing to help you as if you were their own. “T-thank you, Lil,” Meera almost teared up. “That means a lot to me.”

Lil waited for this, embraced now that the other might not like her very much. Still, if Meera had come to be brave, Lil might be able to do that too. “When I was young - my dad tricked me into exorcizing ghosts that weren’t poltergeist and told everyone I’d done it out of spite. The - ghostbusters didn’t believe me when I told them I can’t hear ghosts so I didn’t know that they were trying to tell me to stop.” Lil didn’t normally talk about her not being able to hear ghosts. It was embarrassing - or at least that’s what her father always said. Others wouldn’t accept that and she’d be shunned. Still, she didn’t want Meera to hear about that through the ghostbusters and have a warped version of Lil. For some reason, that would make her a lot sadder than she normally would be about it, her eyes not reaching the other woman’s. Probably because Meera had come to ask her for help personally, and seemed just as lost as Lil had been before she’d left Wicked’s Rest. 

 “I - did do it though so it’s fair enough that they kicked me out, but it’s pretty hard to be banned for most things. You’ll be fine,” Lil finished nodding a little, “Oh you wouldn’t be a bother at all. I know that I can’t  like to go with you but they probably haven’t changed too much.”  

Letting her think about it Lil didn’t speak too much, letting her the room to actually decide what she wanted. Still when she started getting watery- eyed Lil’s widened worried she’d said something wrong until - well it wasn’t often Lil saw that emotion. She looked almost comforted by her words, and while Lil found a spectrum of grief and anger on people’s faces she very rarely saw gratefulness like that. At the thanks Lil gave the other Medium a soft smile and said, “No worries, Meera. I - as long as any of us are here you won’t be alone.” She reiterated the promise, mostly because she wanted Meera to know that she was serious.  

#wickedswriting #‧͙⁺˚･❀ para ❀･˚⁺͙‧ #❀ lilian ballard #❀ a helping hand #❀ season one: canaries

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Letters from Athelor

This is the portal fantasy that I had intended to be my main story for @inklings-challenge​. I would still like to finish it in some form. It may be vastly different from what I have here. But after two years of saying I was going to write an epistolary portal fantasy and then writing something else, I’d like to prove that I was trying to write this story, even if it hasn’t yet come together. So here’s a very, very, very rough fragment that introduces most of the main characters. Let me know if it’s worth continuing.

1. A letter from King Justan Ibrien of Athelor to Amanda Zegler of Earth

Amanda,

Forgive me for writing. I wouldn’t force a letter upon you if it weren’t a dire emergency, but I have nowhere else to turn.

Athelor is at war. Five of the outer provinces have rebelled, spurred on by several of the princes who objected to my crowning and wish to claim pieces of Athelor for themselves. I couldn’t give them the power even if I wanted to—I’m tied to Athelor as a whole, and splintering this connection would make Athelor decay into a barren wasteland—but they value their own power over the good of the land. I became king to nurture Athelor, but that same love drives me to defend her.

But first, I have another duty to care for. My sister Miralie has been my ward for the last four years. You remember her as a two-year-old child, the miracle of my parents’ advancing years. She has matured into a bright and responsible girl of twelve, but I can’t expose her to the dangers of battle. If I leave her behind, she becomes a target for anyone who wants to use her against her as a hostage. The only way to ensure her safety is to send her somewhere far beyond the reach of our enemies.

When I found that you hadn’t severed the connection of our letterbox, I had to reach out. Miralie would be safe on Earth—not even my enemies would breach the barrier between worlds—and I trust you to care for her. Could I send her to you? I understand that I have no right to demand such service from you. This war could last for days or years, and only God knows if I will even survive it, but I have nowhere else to turn. I have vowed to keep Miralie safe, and I ask you to help me keep that vow.

I have idea what kind of life you live now, or if you wish any contact with Athelor or with me. If helping us is impossible, please tell me so and I will trouble you no more. But for the sake of the friendship we once shared, I beg you to respond.

Justan, King of Athelor

2. Excerpt from the diary of Amanda Zegler

After I finished reading the letter about seven zillion, four-hundred and eighty-thousand times, of course I brought it to Lauren. After all the adventures we shared there, my sister deserves to know about anything related to Athelor. I think I ran through at least ten red lights driving from my apartment to her house. She read the letter by her kitchen table.

“Are you sure it’s from him?” Lauren asked me at least ten times. As though a letter in Justan’s handwriting and marked with Justan’s seal that arrived via my magic interdimensional mailbox could be from anyone except Justan.

“It’s from him,” I said, due to all of the above.

“What are you going to tell him?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

Lauren just about fell out of her chair. “Are you serious? You’re going to take in a child from another dimension?”

“It’s Justan,” I said. “I can’t say no.”

“You’ve said no before.”

I let that one drop. “She’s a child who needs help.”

“And you’re going to help her?” Lauren said.

She tore into me for a solid five minutes. If I took in the child, she’d be my responsibility. We didn’t know how long we’d have to care for her, or if Justan would even survive the war. I couldn’t run off on trips when I got bored. Lauren had enough to take care of with her own kids, and with Kevin gone, I couldn’t expect her to pick up the slack for me, etc., etc.

I think I deserve sainthood for putting up with that. Listening to Lauren, you’d assume I was a deadbeat teenager who had never done a responsible thing in her life. I like adventure, but I’ve built a life that can accommodate that. I hold jobs. I’ve never missed a rent payment. I think living on more continents makes me more responsible. It isn’t like Lauren would have the first idea what to do if she were in South America living out of a backpack.

I’ll admit I’ve been wanting that adventure for a long time now. Living back here in Green Valley with Lauren, going to work every day, living out of my normal apartment in a normal city with the same normal routine every day has made me itchy. But when that letter came, I realized that maybe the adventure I really need is to let the adventure come to me. I’ve never had someone from Athelor on Earth before. Who else could say they hosted a kid from another dimension? No matter how long she stayed, that could never get boring.

I argued about our duty to Athelor, the need to protect innocent children, our debt to the king who’d been our friend through so many of our childhood trips to his nation. I told her that of course I’d take care of the kid, and she didn’t have to even see her. And Lauren took offense at that and said she wasn’t heartless and of course she’d help, she just wanted me to know what I was getting into.

The thing is, we don’t know what we’re getting into. And that’s what makes it an adventure. Lauren thinks I run off on adventures to get away from problems. She doesn’t understand that it’s not really an adventure until there’s problems. There’s nothing like being out somewhere and knowing you can rely on nothing but your own skill and wits. And having a kid from Athelor here is certainly going to require a lot of that.

I think I convinced her. At least, she didn’t argue when I took a piece of her printer paper and wrote a letter back to Justan.

Paige came home from school just as we were finishing the argument. When we told her we were discussing Athelor, she rolled her eyes and walked away.

“Were we like that at fourteen?” I asked Lauren.

“We were too busy wrangling gryphons and hunting for undersea treasure,” Lauren said.

You’d think that interdimensional travel stories like that would get me some cool points with the teenagers. I wonder if Paige believes we just made up all these stories about Athelor. She’s just dense enough to come up with a complicated rational explanation rather than accepting the obvious, irrational one.

I’ve wondered why Lauren never brought the kids to Athelor--we can still access the paths. I’d have offered to do it, but I try not to travel to lands where I’ve antagonized the king.

Then again--he did write that letter. Maybe he was never my enemy at all. He wouldn’t send his sister into the care of someone he hated.

What am I saying? Iread the letter. He said it himself--he only contacted me because his world is literally ending. He had no other choice. I was better than total annhililation. But it’s not like he’s forgiven me.

It doesn’t matter if he does. This is bigger than either of us.

I’ve sent off the letter. I hope I don’t regret it.

3. Letter from King Justan Ibrien of Athelor to Amanda Zegler

Amanda,

I don’t have the words to express my gratitude or the time to write them. Time grows short. I will send her to you with the next sunrise.

With thanks,

Justan

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #genre: portal fantasy #imagery: bread #imagery: wine #(at least that's the plan) #story: unfinished

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (Part 4/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations

Summary: Mackenzie has an unwelcome visitor and argues with Tommy.

Word Count: 3545

A/N: Let me know if you want added to the tag list. Oh! And I have a face!claim for Mackenzie - Here. 

The Shelby Company proposals sat on her desk. Mac had spent the last several hours reading through them, highlighting, earmarking, and making notes as she went along. If all of their business dealings were as well put together as the proposals presented to her, then she understood why they were as successful as they were. Of course, intimidation, bribes, and extortion probably didn't hurt their bottom line either. She’d spent most of the weekend thinking about Tommy. After their date, he’d dropped her off and she’d used the paper thin excuse of Sydney being inside to keep him on her doorstep. However it hadn’t kept him from giving her a kiss that nearly melted her resolve and left her horny for the rest of the weekend. She’d been warned that working in security would eventually make her paranoid, but she’d been wary before her career took off. It’s part of why she built the client base she did. What did damage were her personal relationships. As the owner, she wasn’t concerned about missing business with pleasure because it was no ones fucking business, but could create a security concern. Tommy’d asked her out after she’d rejected his business proposal…twice. She couldn’t ignore her instincts. 

“Miss Theil?”

She glanced up, startled. Too distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Katie open her office door. She needed to get a grip. 

“You have a walk-in.”

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is it another fucking Shelby?” 

Katie shook her head. “No, but he does say he knows you.” 

“‘Course he does.” 

Mac closed the contracts and slid them into her top drawer, locking it before sliding the key into her pocket.

“Show him in; hold my calls.” 

Kate nodded. Mac glanced at the vase of flowers on the corner of her desk. She’d almost left them at home, but the bright colors brought a smile to her face, and it felt somehow less personal to have them here, as though she could put distance between her and Tommy. The flowers had arrived first thing Saturday morning, hand delivered with a card in his own handwriting. 

She had the card in her bedside table. Blushed each time she thought about it. 

When the door opened, she stood to round her desk and greet her walk-in. Half way around her desk she froze as she caught sight of the man standing in the doorway.

“Fuck.” 

“Ever the professional, Mac.”

“Go to hell.”

“At least offer me a cup of tea.”

Mac crossed her arms against her chest. “Not sure I should be trusted with scalding hot liquid around you, Hank.” 

“You threaten all potential clients? It’s a wonder you’ve been successful at all with that attitude of yours.”

“We both know you’re not here to be my client, so what the fuck do you want?” 

Hank pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it to her. 

“I found this at Rodney’s flat when I went ‘round to check on him. He missed our weekly family dinner. I was concerned.” 

“Sure you were,” Mac said as she took the letter. “Boy wouldn’t miss a hand out for anything.” 

“Watch your tongue!”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “Or what? You’ll disinherit me?” 

Hank’s jaw tightened.

Wanting him out of her office, she unfolded the paper. Scanning the contents, she saw a series of ideas sketched out, some with lines through them. Then she saw “Peaky Blinders” and “Stronghold - Mac” both circled with a line connecting them. What the hell had Rodney been thinking? Had he been adopted? Glazing up at her uncle, she wished she’d been adopted instead. Sharing blood with these idiots pained her. 

Damn Rodney. Damn the Peaky Blinders. Damn Thomas Shelby for getting her into this mess. 

“Am I meant to know what this means?”

Her uncle glowered down at her. Growing up, she’d been so intimidated by him. The bespoke suits and imported Italian loafers always reminding her of what she couldn’t have, who she wasn’t allowed to be. Rodney had everything he’d ever wanted, and according to his father and mother, was just shy of sainthood. 

“I haven’t spoken with Rodney or any of you since the trial, so I’ve no idea what he’s on about.” 

“He’s missing.”

“So go to the police.” 

“Do you even care?”

Mac laughed. It was an inappropriate response, but it was also inevitable. “No. I don’t.” 

“I’ll take this with me when I go to the police, and then where would you be?”

“That scrap of paper doesn’t mean anything, no matter who you show it to.” 

Hank leaned in, pointed a finger at her. “I know you had something to do with this. He wouldn’t just write your name down on a whim. And, business with the likes of the Peaky Blinders? I know you have no sense of propriety, but honestly, known criminals? Even you must have some standards.” 

God, she hated that he was sort of right. She knew better than to do business with them. If it hadn’t been for the three of them coming into her office, she wouldn’t have to deal with Hank standing in her office bellowing at her. Why had they dragged her into this? She knew why Rodney did. Little rat could always be counted upon to fuck things up for her by being a complete idiot. But, now she had the Blinders to deal with. She had Tommy and his damn blue eyes and soft lips…and wandering hands to deal with. Maybe it was time for a vacation.

“Not my apartment you found that little slip of paper in, is it? Did it ever even occur to you that it might be your precious Rodney that got himself into a mess? Gambled away his own inheritance, his own fortune…” Mac paused, looked around her office. Met her uncle’s gaze with a hard stare. “I’ve no need of money, or the Peaky Blinders’ business, as you can see. Do use your brain, uncle.” 

“Impertinent little bitch.”

As insults went, she gave it a four for the use of impertinent, but it did lack a creative flair. 

“Help me find him.” 

Mac’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “My, we are desperate.” 

“I’ll pay whatever you want.” 

“No.”

Hank jerked back as though she’d slapped him. “No?”

“You heard me. I’m not a private investigator, and I’d rather die than take your money.” 

She’d rather take a loan from the Peaky Blinders if it came to that level of desperation. Least they’d have the courtesy to kill her if she couldn't pay it back. 

“I’ll never understand what happened to my sister. She had such potential. Such poise. Shame you take after your father.” 

“Thank the Lord for his mercies.” She never understood the woman Hank described when he spoke about her mother. It was as though they were two different women, and perhaps they were. She tended to think her version was better. 

“Mark my words, young lady, one day you’ll look around and regret breaking ties with our family.”

“Wow,” Mac shook her head. “Your memory is something of a wonder. How is it possible to be so wrong all the time? Do you ever tire of it? Best thing mom did was marry my dad and leave you lot in the dust. Talk to some of Rodney’s idiot friends. Check the local pub, see if he’s with one of his whores if you’re really interested in finding him. But, something tells me this is more about you saving face than it is about finding your son. Do tell me how that works out for you, won’t you?”

Mac walked past Hank and opened the door. She gestured for him to leave. He stared at her, face red, hands closed into fists. As he took measured steps towards her, she wondered if he would try to hit her. She doubted it, but then she never thought to see him again and here he was stood in her office. 

He opened his mouth as though to speak to her, but with a shake of his head, closed it before striding out the door. Closing it behind his retreating back, Mac rested against it before sliding to the floor, head in her hands. Leave it to family to make encounters with one of the largest criminal enterprises in Great Britain seem manageable by comparison. 

Fuck.

She’d told her uncle to go to the police. With information about the Peaky Blinders. And Stronghold. And a connection between them. 

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck. 

Just because there wasn’t a connection now, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be one. She hadn’t made a decision about doing business with them, not really at least. And if Rodney was missing or…more than missing, it would just make things so much messier because the police wouldn’t care about the details. It could blow up before the truth came out, and the timing was suspect. 

Standing to her feet, Mac walked out of her office. Katie sat behind her desk, and glanced up with a surprised smile on her face. 

“Miss Theil?” 

“I think this is a stupid question, but did we get any intake information when any of the Shelby’s or Michael Gray came to visit me?” 

Katie’s brow furrowed as she looked down at her desk and began sorting through the stack of papers there. 

“Not from the Shelby’s, but Michael Gray did leave a contact number for when you’d finished looking over the contract he brought.” 

“Fantastic.” 

Katie handed Mac a post-it with Michael’s number on it. With a wave and a ‘thanks’ thrown over her shoulder, Mac walked into her office. Shutting the door behind her, she glanced down at it. Perhaps it was time to upgrade, to install a door with a lock, and a bolt. Given the type of people who kept finding their way into her office, it might be inevitable. 

She dialed the number in her hand, listening to it ring through. Why were her hands shaking? She hadn’t done anything. This was exactly why she avoided business with dangerous men, or even with less dangerous but powerful men. Too much risk. Too much threat. 

“‘lo?”

“Hi, Michael? This is Mac with Stronghold.”

“Hello, sweetheart. Have a chance to look over our proposals did you?”

Mac rolled her eyes, both at the nickname, and at the smug tone of voice he used. “I did. You and Mister Shelby put together a very tempting proposal.”

“Mister Shelby is it? Thought the date went well from the mood he’s been in.” 

“This is business. And, that’s not what I’m calling about. I’ve had a visit from my uncle, and we should talk. Can you and Mister Shelby meet with me?” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. When he spoke again, the laughter was gone from his voice.

“Yes or no, Mac. Are you alone?”

 “Yes?” What was he playing at? She didn’t like the change to his voice.   

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” 

“Has somethin’ happened?” 

“Michael, it’s fine. We exchanged angry words, nothing more.” 

“Car’s on its way. Lad’s name is Isaiah. He’ll bring you to us, alright?” 

“Michael, honestly. I don’t have time now. I thought we could just put something on the calendar.”

“Just get downstairs. Car should be there.”

“This isn’t another home invasion, alright? I’m fine.” 

“Tommy’ll be the judge of that, yeah? 

Mac rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Oh my god are you following me again? Still? I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him, you know.” 

“Not until you get in the car.” 

“Damnit, Michael. Is all this necessary?” 

Before he could answer, she saw the car when she reached the front door, a young man with the same peaked cap she’d seen the others wear stood next to a two-door, slate gray Bentley. 

“See him.”

“Ask him ‘bout a bird.” 

“What?”

“Do it.” 

Mac rolled her eyes, but looked up at the young man who smiled at her. “I’m meant to ask you about a bird?”

“Hummin’ bird, ma’am.” 

“That’s him,” Michael said.

“You’re utterly ridiculous. This is stupid, Michael. There’s no reason to bother him. I’m sure he’s busy. Hell, I know, I’m busy.” 

“Did you like the flowers? The ones from Tommy?” 

The topic caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to respond. “I did. They’re lovely. Look good on my desk.” 

“He’ll be glad to ‘ear that.” 

The line clicked off and Mac shoved the phone into her bag before sliding into the passenger seat. Isaiah was quiet as he drove through the streets of London. The further away from her office they drove, the angrier she felt about the whole thing. Her uncle was powerful because he was old money, and land and British gentry or whatever. She’d never paid too much attention to any of it, and her mother had rarely spoken about it when she’d been growing up. But, her uncle was also a bit stupid - like his son. Still, they were both mean, petty little things when poked. Now she had Tommy fucking collecting her from the office as though she were at his beck and call.

When the car rolled to a stop, her door opened before she could reach for the handle. Isaiah held a hand out to her before escorting her into a pub. As soon as she entered, Tommy was in front of her. His warm hands cupped her cheeks as he tilted her head up to him. 

“Alright?” 

Eyes narrowed, she shook out of his hold. “I’m fine. Michael has totally overreacted.” 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed a bit as he nodded. For this time of day, the pub was empty. Too empty. Glancing around, it looked closed. 

“Isaiah, make the lady a G&T.”

Tommy gently nudged Mac into a chair. He leaned against the bar and rolled a cigarette along his lip before lighting it. 

“Is Rodney dead?”

She blurted the question before thinking about anything. She supposed it was better than the what the hell am I doing here? she wanted to ask. Isaiah placed the drink in front of her, and she took a large sip before looking back up at Tommy. His eyes had narrowed further, almost suspicious as he gazed down at her. 

“Why do you want to know?”

“His father, my uncle, came to the office today. Managed to avoid seeing the man for nearly a decade and he shows up asking questions about Rodney because you decided to loan my halfwit of a cousin money. Now my uncle knows about the Peaky Blinders, knows you came to see me, well, he suspects there’s a connection, don’t know if he knows anything.” 

Tommy blew smoke from his lips and Mac wanted to kiss him or slap him. Maybe both. Probably both. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the piece of paper Hank had brought with him. Holding it out, she waved it until Tommy leaned forward and took it from her fingers. 

“Everyone out.” 

Mac watched as one by one, everyone filed out the back door, leaving her alone with Tommy. His eyes were still on the piece of paper in his hands. When the room was empty, Tommy looked up. She couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. 

“Apparently Rodney missed family dinner, and Hank came round to see what I had to do with it once he found that in Rodney’s flat.” 

“Family dinner?”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not welcome, or invited, thank heavens.” 

Tommy nodded. “Go on.” 

“Came in demanding I help him find his son, as though I give a fuck, then he offered vague threats when I declined. He pissed me off though, so I told him if he was that concerned about his missing son he should just go to the police.” 

“The police, eh?” 

“Yeah.” 

Tommy nodded again. God, she wanted to shake him. See some sort of reaction from him. It was altogether unnerving. 

“Figured that’s what a caring parent would do when they suspect something has happened to their beloved son.” 

“He’s not dead.”

Mac felt a rush of air through her lungs, but couldn't have told you what exactly she felt at the news. Being alive made things both more and less complicated, as would him being dead. Fucking Rodney. She drained the rest of her drink. 

“I don’t know why Michael freaked out. I just didn’t want to meet at the office to talk about all this. My uncle is powerful, but like Rodney he’s a bit of an idiot. But idiots are dangerous in their own way.” 

“Can he make trouble for you, this uncle of yours?” 

Mac scrunched her face. “Not really. Maybe? Probably? He’s done most of the damage he can do to me. Nothing more for him to take, really, and his lawyers won’t let him go after what’s left because they know mine would win.” 

“Why’d he need the money then?” 

Mac tilted her head. “Who? Rodney?”

Tommy nodded.

“The fuck should I know? He came to you lot for the money. Shouldn’t that have been a question you asked him?” 

He didn’t say anything. Tommy just leaned against the bar, lazily smoking a cigarette.  Yet, he made her feel as though she were sat outside the principal’s office waiting for the detention slip and the call home. 

“God, you’re infuriating.” Mac stood from the table and closed in on Tommy, stopping with not a foot between them. “Have you forgotten that this whole situation is your fault?” She jabbed her finger at him. “And you’re just going to stand there staring me down like I’ve done something wrong? I didn’t ask for any of this. I’d manage to avoid anything to do with my fucking family for near a decade and in the span of a week you’ve managed to fuck that all up for me. Then you’re going to stand there all imperious and - ”

“Tom,” Arthur stood in the doorway, body leaning around the frame. “We’ve got to go if you want to make your meeting.” 

Not taking his eyes away from Mac, Tommy nodded. Arthur glanced at her and offered a smile before ducking back out the way he came. Tommy snubbed out his cigarette before tucking his hands into his pockets. He bent forward a bit so that he loomed a bit over where Mac stood. 

“I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Again, the whiplash of a conversation with this man caught her off guard. “Of course I’m bloody well alright. You lot are the ones making a fuss about things.” 

Tommy’s lips twitched as though he were fighting a smile. “Either way, glad it brought you to me.” 

“Like getting screamed at do you?” 

Tommy pulled his hands from his pockets to place them on Mac’s hips. He hauled her flush against him, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. 

“Like havin’ you in me arms.” 

“I’m still upset with you.” 

“That’s fine.” 

His hands squeezed her gently. Standing this close to him she was once again overwhelmed by the smell of him, the depth of his eyes, the various shades of blue she could see.

“Are you free tonight?”

Mac tilted her head. She was, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to let him off the hook quite so easily.  

“I’ll come by ‘round 7.” 

“I never said I was free.” 

His arms slid up her back, drawing her closer to him. As his fingers sunk into her hair, his lips captured hers. She resisted. For about three entire seconds she resisted the pull she felt. Honestly, there should be a reward for her efforts. Of course, then his tongue swept along her bottom lip and his thumb caught the sensitive spot behind her ear and she melted against him like butter.       

“I’ll deal with your uncle,” Tommy whispered as he pulled back a bit. 

“Like you did Rodney?”

“That’s not for you to worry about, love.” 

“You this insufferable to everyone?” 

“Yes.” 

She pulled herself from his arms. “This affects me now. Not because I want it to, but because they are my family. And we’ve got a messy, publicly messy, history. I don’t need you mucking about and making it worse. They want nothing more than to find an excuse to destroy me.” 

“I won’t let that happen.” 

Mac rolled her eyes. “Right. ‘Course you will. Nothing for me to worry about then because Thomas Shelby’s got it sorted, right?”

She strode towards the door. Tommy getting involved with Hank was a recipe for disaster, and she had to start making plans now. She refused to lose everything she’d worked so hard to build. Fucking Rodney. Part of her wished he were dead. Maybe. Fucking Thomas Shelby and his blue eyes. 

A hand on her shoulder caught her just short of the door and she whirled around, nearly colliding with Tommy. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Calm down, Mackenzie.”

“Don’t.” 

He didn’t let go. His hands squeezed into her arms. “Can’t do anything ‘bout you being involved. I can see to it that you’re safe.” 

“Fine.” Mac broke out of his hold. “I’m going back to my office. And I’m taking a taxi.” 

“Mackenzie - ”

“Not now, Thomas.”

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313 @highgardenrosexxx 

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

A submission for @anikasenkujo​ ’s Valentine’s Event, a little bit late, but still here for the month of February~

Summary: Solara wonders about what she could do for Fue on Valentine’s Day, as he is usually the one to make plans. And eventually she simply asks him about how he would like to be loved on a day such as this during a conversation. 

Genre: Fluff with romance

Pairing: Fuegoleon (CC) x Solara (OC); Fuelara

Length: ~2.3k 

Warnings: Mmm maybe a theme of self-doubt if you squint

A year. It had been a year, or a little more that they had been married. Some would say that they were well on their way to the two year itch, she supposed. Though she liked to think that it was more so about two years of being in a relationship, rather than marriage.

But still. Most would probably argue that after so long of staying together, people fall out of love and into confines of routine. And it is because of that routine that it becomes harder to leave, as leaving would mean stepping into unknown. Thus, people simply continue on going through the motions, and stay together because it’s easy, simple, passable. There’s nothing particularly wrong, so why bother changing it?

Too often she had heard of people saying such things, though she couldn’t exactly say that her parents seemed like they were simply going through the motions. And she couldn’t say herself to be feeling in such a way; that she was simply going through the motions of marriage.

Yes, routine was routine, and everyday life was hardly anything… special, in a way at least. But there was comfort in it. A gentle lull into which to sink, and rest one’s head. A warm embrace on the road known as life.

Marriage, as much as the person she was married to, was home. Not just a place in which to be, because it was the only things she had grown to know.

It was, he was, home.

And she was happy.

Perhaps there should have been something grander that she should have strived for. Tried to be more romantic and forthcoming. She wasn’t quite sure. But maybe she should have tried to be something more.

People most definitely seemed to try to be something more.

And that was precisely the reason why on the 13th of February, as she sat by herself at a café, since she had simply wanted to get out the base, the headquarters and the castle, she looked at people going by with boxes of chocolates, plushies and flowers as they were getting ready for the next day. They were trying to rekindle something. Or maybe simply uphold the flame. Something that she couldn’t say was a bad thing. Oh heavens no.

Remembering your spouse, trying to build up the relationship and appreciating one and another were all wonderful things that ought to exist in a happy marriage. And so, she couldn’t say that the gestures, the people going by, were vain. Not for the reasons of wanting to show their appreciation to their loved ones.

But that brought forth another thought as she sat there, sipping her tea. The question of: “what should I do for him?”

They hardly had a routine when it came to dates, or traditions when it came to anniversaries or other such dates. But there had been smaller gestures. Gifts, celebrations… a dinner. But Fue had usually been the one to book them a restaurant, as he was more familiar with those in Clover.

Roses and heliotropes had been placed into their room again just the other day, so there was no need for more flowers. And she couldn’t say that he seemed like he would, particularly, enjoy flowers. The same came with sweets and plushies.

There was nothing that he needed. And though she did have something in mind for his birthday, although that wasn’t for a good six more months, this wasn’t a notable occasion enough to give it.

So, what could she do for him, on The Day of Love?

A poem? A letter? Both seemed rather foolish since they would get to see each other during the day, and he’d be busy with work. He always was. And so was she too, at least fairly busy. Though she couldn’t claim that her workload came even close to his, not these days anyways, even if she did her part to help around, sometimes even asking Randal if there was something more that she could do, because Fue had a bad habit of not giving her tasks she could complete if he thought her to have done enough already.

A smirk rose to her lips with the thought.

You really are stubborn. And … a fool, but in the best possible way, she mused within the confines of her mind. Because though she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to burden her with work, she felt like scolding him for it, as silly as it might have sounded. Since one isn’t supposed to scold their spouse for something nice they do. Even him distributing more work for her could translate into more together time.

Or not, if their schedules wouldn’t match up.

So, she supposed there was no way of telling if it was better this way. But she could always continue doing what she was already doing on that front. So, there was no real issue. They both did what they could.

And yet, she thought that she could do more.

She could, almost certainly, be a better wife, in some way. She could show her love and appreciation in some manner; more prominently, just to make sure that he knew.

But it’d have to be a gesture that wasn’t superficial, just for show. Something that would touch him, rather than give him flowers or chocolates or plushies at which he’d smile, he’d say ‘thank you’ and it’d be forgotten the next year.

Or… not downright forgotten, perhaps, but it wouldn’t be something he truly enjoyed. Not that she thought him to enjoy such gestures at least.

However… nothing more came to mind. And so, she wasn’t any more original than any of those people walking by with the traditional Valentine’s Day gifts. Instead, one could say that she was lacking, as she didn’t have even such a gift.

I could get one though… she pondered, thinking that perhaps she should regardless have something to present, despite it seeming hollow in comparison. But then again, what would he say if she was to present something like that to him?

“Thank you, but you didn’t need to get me anything.” It would be said with the best of intentions, but it would make the gesture seem… not useless, but something that was without special meaning. Not that he meant it like that. Of course he didn’t. It was simply a statement of ‘you didn’t need to’, which was true.

She didn’t need to.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to show him again, and again, and again, that she did love him. More than she could possibly say. Because words had fallen to be mere echoes in comparison to what she felt. The words were lacking, so very, utterly… horridly, lacking.

And yet she didn’t have much more to give him than those gentle love confessions, utterances spoken with words and whispers, or the little things she could do, here and there. It all felt so mundane, but… even so, the gestures, she thought, spoke more of her emotions than words ever could. Which is why, as she got up from the table and headed home, she decided that she’d continue to do those little things, of course.

Naturally. As obviously as she’d need to keep breathing.

But. She’d also tell it to him, later that evening, so that he might, perhaps, tell her just how he wanted to be loved on the Day Of Love.

Perhaps. So that she might. And even if he couldn’t tell her what he wanted, then maybe he’d understand the depths of her sentiment, as much as mortals can.

As much as mortals can, in their limited state of being that bears a kind of yearning for the other that one struggles to understand. Which sounded so awfully difficult to believe that at times even her herself had to question it; to feel so deeply and fondly for another. But. She felt it in her bones, beneath her skin within a place that couldn’t be touched by winter frost.

Maybe I’m simply lucky, she thought to herself, while wondering how she had come to such emotions. Because is it not a kind of luck, a blessing or alike, to feel such a way.

A faint smile, appeared on her lips as she made her way through the corridors of the Crimson Lion Kings’ headquarters, and with each step that took her closer to her husband’s office, the smile grew wider. Only a little bit, but it did. And she couldn’t help it, had she wanted to help it for some reason.

She knocked onto the door, and opened the door without waiting, just as he had told her for so many times already. ‘You are always welcome.’ ‘You don’t need to wait to come in, because you are my wife.’ ‘My office is much yours as it is mine.’ The last of the statements she didn’t think to be quite as true, but she understood the sentiment behind it; the sentiment that she could always come to him.

“Good evening love,” she greeted while closing the door behind her.

“Good evening,” he replied while glancing to her before looking back down onto the document he was working on. “I’ll be done in a short while,” he continued to assure, as if knowing, or thinking to know, what she was going to ask of him.

“Good,” she quite simply replied as the smile turned into a smirk. “You should get some rest.” She nearly scolded, but more so stated, as she knew, and he knew, that he would continue working hard for the sake of the kingdom. And they both knew, just as much, that she wouldn’t stop him of working towards his goals and dreams. But she would be there to remind him, yet again, for as many times as needed, that he needed to take time off for himself as well.

“I will,” he told her. “And we’ll have a full day off tomorrow,” he continued.

He really is going above and beyond, she thought to herself while feeling her heart becoming overwhelmed with love and affection. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow,” she admitted while taking a seat opposite to him on the other side of the desk.

“Oh?” He looked up from the document and put down the pen while studying her expression. His eyes travelled all around her face as a frown settled on his, one of concern.

“Mhm,” she hummed while reaching over the desk and taking a hold of his hand. “There’s something I needed to ask you…”

“Yes?” He took a hold of her hand as he fingers graced his skin, as if trying to assure her that he would keep a hold of her.

“You are… always the one making plans, and booking restaurants for days such as tomorrow,” she begun, while wondering if this was the best way to go about it.

“And you’d like to make plans for a change?”

“No, no,” she shook her head with a swaying motion.

“Then… perhaps you’d like me to make a reservation to a different establishment this time? It is a short notice but I supp-“

“No,no,” she chuckled as amusement seeped through the near melancholic state of her being.

“Then… what is the matter?” He asked while still wearing that concerned frown of his.

“I’m getting to that,” she noted with an amused smirk. “My point was that… you’re doing all these wonderful things to show me that you love me; making plans for occasions such as tomorrow… And I… can’t help but wonder how…” she wondered for a while about how to ask the question; how to formulate it? And in the end, she couldn’t think of another way of stating it, than simply stating it. “How would you like me to love you tomorrow?” Her eyes rose from the desk, and the hold of their hands, to his eyes.

And her eyes, they held implore to him. As if she was asking him to give her something, asking him to give her something so that she might give him back. But the strangest thing about that implore was the fact that he didn’t think she needed to give him anything more. She didn’t need to do anything else than love him just the way she had been loving him until then.

He didn’t think there was anything more he wanted. There was nothing more he could think to want from her. Quite simply, he just wanted her to love him.

“I…” he begun, closing his mouth for a while as he swallowed, eyes having fallen to the side, trying to choose the words that would flow past his lips; as he tried to think what on earth he could give her. When he couldn’t. He couldn’t give her anything more. “I want you to be there,” he told her, musing ever so slightly to himself.

And as his eyes rose back to look at her, they saw confusion; as if it had floated through the air from him to her.

“I simply wish that… you’ll be there. Just as you have been, until now,” he continued with a  smile, a faint smile that glimmered like the first ray of dawn, or like every good thing that had happened to her, all at once.

Her eyelids fell in a slow blink, as the frown of confusion melted away, seeping into thin air and disappearing from the room. “I wouldn’t dream of not being there,” she told him with a smirk, to which the reply came at first with a faint, pleased chuckle, and then in the form of him lifting her hand onto his lips.

“Good,” he said before placing a kiss onto the ring finger of her right hand, while the ring on the ring finger of his left pressed against her skin as well, as if placing another kiss at the same time.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover oneshot #fuegoleon x solara

[cami-chats]

Corroded Coffin’s #1 Fan

Written for @hellcheerweek Day 2 with the prompt: Band

Summary: Chrissy and Eddie had a summer romance following the defeat of Vecna. She didn’t keep in touch with him when she moved to LA, but when she sees a flyer for Corroded Coffin, she can’t help but attend and see if maybe, he thought about her over the years, the same way she thought about him.

Read on AO3 or below

Chrissy had been in the middle of a load of laundry and a book she wasn't enjoying when she saw it. 

There was a cork board where anyone could hang flyers for the community. She would give it a glance at some point during her loads, but it was always when she wanted to take a break and stretch her legs. There was never anything interesting on it. People would advertise their guitar lessons, some were selling used furniture, and there was usually a charity drive of some sort going on. None of it applied to Chrissy, so her eyes would glance over the papers disinterestedly as she paced back and forth before eventually settling back in with her book.

This time, there was a flyer for a band playing a gig at a local bar. Chrissy's heart beat faster as she recognized the band name: Corroded Coffin. Eddie's band. It was possible one of the other guys had taken up the name and moved here, but she thought of it as Eddie's band. The flyer said they were playing at ten o'clock Saturday night, and the first drink was half-price.

Chrissy grinned at the flyer and made a mental note to go to this. She hadn't seen Eddie since she left Hawkins for college.

Her mind immediately started putting together wardrobe ideas for her to wear. She didn't own any clothes that would look good at a metal concert, but she was sure she could cobble together something that wouldn't make her look too out of place. She actually owned black clothes now, which was a step up from what she wore to Eddie's performances when they dated.

She wondered how he was doing. He was in LA and with a band that was playing, so he couldn't be too bad. She hoped nothing had happened to Wayne to send Eddie here; his uncle had always been kind to her.

Nervous that she wouldn't remember the time of their performance when she got home, she went back to her bag and grabbed a pen. Chrissy didn't have any paper, so she rolled up her jacket sleeve and wrote it on her arm: the name of the bar and the time. She didn't need the reminder that it was Corroded Coffin playing; she couldn't forget that if she tried.

Her washer beeped, so she paused in thinking about Eddie and the way he caressed his guitar, to move her clothes into an empty dryer. That done, she went back to her seat but found herself unable to concentrate on the book she'd brought.

What was Eddie like these days, she wondered. She hoped he was as unapologetically himself as the last time she'd seen him. He'd had a spark to him that she'd admired. He was so easy to be around, always joking and accommodating her. He might've grown out of that a bit, but as long as he was happy, she would be happy for him.

Would he even remember her? It had been years since they last spoke. Chrissy kept in touch with a few people from the group, but not all of them. She talked on the phone with Nancy and Max at least once a month. She exchanged letters with Steve and Robin along with the occasional call, and she kept in touch with Dustin and Lucas and El and… oh who was she kidding? She’d kept in touch with everyone except Eddie. She knew that she couldn’t talk to him and not end up begging him to try a long distance relationship, even though she knew that wasn’t what he wanted. Nancy mentioned get-togethers sometimes, so Chrissy knew that Eddie was still okay, as far as the Party knew. 

The point is, she wouldn’t be surprised if, during the commotion of his life after she left town, he'd all but forgotten about her. She'd been a blip on his radar to begin with, and their relationship had been little more to him than a casual comfort after going through hell together. And really, what was a high school fling to him five years later? She'd be lucky if he recognized her when she said hello since she wouldn't recognize most people from high school.

Even as she thought it, hope rebelled in her chest. Eddie had been wonderful. Attentive. It was difficult for her to imagine him not remembering her. He'd always been so happy to see her when they dated. Every phone call had ended with a, "I'm glad you called," and he'd called her pet names like he treasured her. People changed, yes, but it seemed impossible that Eddie wouldn't remember her.

She tried to tamp down on that hope. It was more likely for him to barely remember her, but she wished that he would be as excited to see her as she was to see him.

*

Chrissy double-checked her reflection and wondered if she should redo her makeup. She'd gone with dark blue eyeshadow to match her blouse, but maybe it made her look ghoulish. She hadn't wanted to go too bright and stand out, but now she was worried she would look too dark in what was sure to be an already dim venue.

She leaned out into the hallway to check the clock-- digital, because she couldn't handle having one that ticked-- and realized that what she currently had on would have to suffice if she wanted to be on time. She turned off the light with a final, excited smile to her reflection. All she had to do was grab her jacket, purse, keys, and then she'd be gone.

That was all she needed to do, but she hesitated before she could do it. Her eyes caught on a flannel shirt of Eddie's. She'd 'stolen' it from him when they were dating, and he'd said that she could keep it. It had been her intention to return it when they broke up, but she'd packed it into the rest of her possessions like it was truly hers. A secret piece of love that she brought to the coast with her. 

She slipped the flannel on instead of her jacket, then slung her purse over one shoulder and grabbed her keys like nothing was amiss. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she locked her door, but she paid it no mind. If this had happened two years ago, she would've been so nervous about wearing it that she turned around to change again. As it stood, she wanted to see how Eddie would react-- if he would react. Would he recognize it? Would he find it sweet? He had to be dating someone else, but the urge to flirt with him, to kick up the old sparks and see if they sizzled, was a thrill she couldn't deny.

He still affected her. All these years, and he affected her like she'd seen him yesterday. Was it so horrible that she wanted to see if it was the same for him? She tied up the ends of the shirt so it didn't hang as low as her skirt. The skirt wasn't too short, but Eddie was much taller than her, and this shirt had been big on him to begin with. Besides, it made it easier for her to keep a hand on her purse, this way. Before she tied up the shirt, her purse got tangled up with the tails, and she worried an errant pickpocket would try to take her wallet only to end up with a bullet in the hand, when her instinct told her it was a demobat. With the shirt tied up, she didn't have to worry. 

As she sat on the bus, she wondered what songs Corroded Coffin would play. Would she recognize any of them, or would it be all new material? She'd gone to every one of Eddie's performances that summer, and she still remembered their songs. It would be nice if she could sing along with one or two of them tonight so she didn't feel quite so awkward sitting on her own.

Her thoughts turned to their audience, and she hoped they had a bigger following here than they'd had in Hawkins. Eddie deserved to have fans of his music for all the heart he put into it. In Hawkins, where there was no metal scene, friends of the band had been the only consistent audience. Here in LA, she imagined there was much more to be found.

She had no idea how right she was about that until she walked in the bar and saw it was comfortably filled. It wasn't the crowd of a popular bar, it was a crowd waiting for the main event to take place. All of these people were here for the band, she realized with a smile.

Chrissy took a glance around the room, looking for Eddie. Her original plan had been to say hi before he went on stage, then find him afterwards to see if he wanted to catch up. With how busy it was, she figured she'd have to save her hello for after the show. She didn't see a hint of Eddie through all the unfamiliar faces, nor did she see an open table.

There were a few empty seats at the bar, so she claimed one for herself. Sitting down made this skirt rise up, and she tugged it back down over her demobat scars before settling in to wait.

"Here for the band?" a deep voice across the bar asked. The bartender.

She turned to him with a polite smile. "That's right."

"First drink's half off," he said, reminding her of the flyer. She wondered if the first drink was full price if someone wasn't here for Corroded Coffin. "What'll you have?"

"What do you have on tap?" Chrissy asked. She didn't get drunk anymore, not since she realized it made her jump at every screech she heard-- not to mention her lack of coordination while drunk made her fear ramp higher. Wine made her cringe, so she stuck to beer.

She spent all her time waiting for the band to go on in nervous excitement. How would Eddie look? Her own looks had matured since they saw each other, but Eddie had been almost twenty by that point. Maybe he would look the same, save his hair. She hoped he grew it out longer. She might cry if he'd cut it short, but she could accept if he kept it at the same length. She snickered to herself, imagining Eddie in front of a mirror cutting his hair with a pair of craft scissors and a ruler.

The lights for the stage lit, the band was ready, and Chrissy grinned in pure happiness. It had been so long since she'd heard him play. He'd been amazing back then, and she could imagine that he'd only gotten better. Eddie looked much the same as when she'd last seen him: long, curly hair, tattooed arms, worn jeans. His face had matured a little-- like hers-- but he was still easily recognizable. His hair was longer, she noticed with delight. He had at least one more tattoo on his arm, and she doubted it was the sole new ink. She was pretty sure those jeans were the exact same pair, though; she'd tried them on as a joke once, and Eddie had laughed so hard he couldn't stand.

He looked good.

She took a quick glance at the other band members on the stage, but she only recognized the drummer. Everyone else on stage was new to her. The new lead singer said a quick, "We're Corroded Coffin, and here's our first song: Live It Down." He didn't wait for applause before striking the first note of the song, but people clapped anyways.

Chrissy joined in, letting the familiar banging wash over her. This wasn't a song she'd heard before, but she could see the traces of Eddie's songwriting in it. It felt like being enveloped in a large hug, and the smile stayed on her face for song after song.

She sipped at her beer, swayed along with the handful of slow songs they played, and tried to wipe the smile off her face. 

It was a hopeless effort. 

Every time she looked at Eddie, she couldn't help but be happy that he was here, that he was okay and rocking out like he loved-- and she spent the entire performance looking at him.

The bar wasn't stuffed to capacity, but it was clear that Corroded Coffin had a following. Chrissy wasn't the only one clapping with all her might and shouting for joy at the end of their set.

The band left the stage, and Chrissy hopped out of her seat. She didn't want to risk Eddie leaving immediately after the show, and her missing him. To get this close and miss him would break her heart. Although... maybe she should give him time to rest. He'd been rocking it on stage before, and it had been a long set; surely he was tired.

But she'd already gotten to her feet, and she had no interest in sitting back down. So Chrissy squared her shoulders and started wading through people to make her way to the back room. 

It was easy to get to them. Everyone else was either not interested in talking to the band, or they were being more polite than Chrissy. Normally, that thought would be enough to send Chrissy back to her seat, but the prospect of talking to Eddie had lit a fire in her that wouldn't be snuffed. 

The door was open, but someone waylaid her before she could reach the room. It was the bass player, which meant he was new to her. "Can I help you?" he asked, a touch suspicious. Did they have a big problem with groupies or something? The thought was exciting for them but made jealousy curdle in her stomach. 

Chrissy didn't let it bother her, just smiled and said, "I'm looking for Eddie." 

The bass player was thrown by her knowing Eddie's name, so he said, "Uh, yeah. One sec." He walked the handful of steps to the room and didn't bother to close the door. "Hey Eddie, some chick is here to see you." 

"What chick?" He asked, and hearing his voice when it wasn't doing backup vocals sent a thrill through her. 

"I dunno." 

Eddie snorted. "Thanks, man, that's really helpful." 

There was no one blocking her way now, so Chrissy walked in the doorway. They looked over at her, but she only had eyes for Eddie. "Hi," she said with a small wave. 

He blinked at her. 

"I don't know if you remember me," she said, a touch awkwardly. She wanted to think that he did, but just because she hoped it, didn't make it true. 

"Chrissy Cunningham," Eddie said with a wide, familiar smile. 

It made her grin in return. 

"Who the hell could forget you?" He got to his feet and offered her a hug that she immediately and gratefully accepted. "I had no idea you were still in LA." 

"Yeah, once I graduated, a school called me and said they'd love it if I could teach there, so." She shrugged modestly, not belying any of the excitement she had felt at the time she received their offer. 

"That's great," Eddie said, still with that wide grin. He looked so happy for her that she thought her heart might burst. 

"Uh Eddie, who is that?" 

Eddie turned to his bandmates with an arm around her shoulder like it belonged there. God but she'd missed him. "This is Chrissy, we grew up in the same town." 

And they'd fought the same monsters together. Held each other tight through the nightmares that followed. Kissed like their lives depended on it. None of his bandmates knew that, though-- not even the drummer, who'd been friends with Eddie the entire time. As far as they were concerned, 'grew up in the same town' was a perfectly acceptable explanation. Chrissy waved. "Hi. You guys played great tonight."

There were awkward thanks said to her in reply. Before anyone had a chance to try and make polite conversation, Eddie said, "We're gonna go catch up; I'll be back to help load everything." With that, him and Chrissy left the room.

Chrissy didn't know how to start. I missed you, was true, but she wasn't sure that counted as a conversation starter. It was a fact, that's all. Do you have a girlfriend? Would be a bit too transparent for her. What've you been up to? was a good idea. It was casual, it let him answer however he wanted, and he'd probably mention if he was dating someone before she had a chance to embarrass herself. Not that Eddie had ever made her feel embarrassed before.

She didn't get the chance to say her well-thought opener because Eddie's fingers plucked at the loose flannel and asked, "Is this mine?"

"That depends, would you think it was creepy if I said yes?" she replied, even as a thrill went down her spine at him recognizing it so quickly. 

Eddie grinned, answering her without saying a word: no, he didn't find it creepy in the slightest. He reached towards the collar of his own shirt and lifted the chord around his neck so the bottom of his necklace came out. Next to his guitar pick was a very familiar '86 charm, still golden and gleaming. "Nah, we match."

Chrissy couldn't help a responding smile, so wide it felt like it would burst the edges of her face. "Does that mean you missed me as much as I missed you?"

"Corroded Coffin has been missing its number one fan these years," he said with a sage nod.

"And by 'Corroded Coffin', you mean you."

"That's hearsay."

"Don't worry," Chrissy said, rocking forward onto her toes, "I won't tell." 

#my writing #stranger things #hellcheer #fanfic #idk if this is how the prompt was supposed to be interpreted #first fanfic in a while oof

[thelittlepoetprincess]

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 Part 1

This was supposed to be Zhongli but I like The Doctor more AND HIS MODEL IS OUT. You can clearly see I have a type. This’ll be split into two parts.

How I imagine Dottore during his Akademiya days with a hint of unrequited love Spoilers ahead!

Warning(s): One-sided love, romantic undertones, mentions of death and abuse, character death(not u), blood and gore if you squint. Word Count: 1k

Part 2

The circumstances in which brought you into contact with him for the first time were strange to say the least. You were studying at Sumeru’s Akademiya, or more specifically, running through the halls went you got caught up in an overload explosion. You, being two years his senior, expected an heartfelt apology but instead got a dismissive attitude and an underhanded comment on your lack of focus.

It didn’t end there sadly, as the program which helped student from other cities adapt to Sumeru’s environment(the very one in which brought you from Inazuma to Sumeru), paired you and him together. Normally, they’d attempt to pair students up from similar backgrounds but no one wanted him and the only one left without a junior was you. How fun.

“Excuse me-?!“ You puffed out, thankful you had a geo shield active from your last experiment. That minimalized the damage but still didn’t fix the limpness you felt in your leg. The mint haired junior came stepping out, muttering something to himself about another failure.

“You’re excused. Move along unless you want to help clean up or become the next test. Perhaps looking where your running might help prevent this in the future.“ He slammed the doors shut, sending a cloud of smoke billowing in your face. Thank goodness some other, better mannered students came to your aid. They were also glad to help you file a report on him while the nurse assisted you. Turns out plenty of them had issues with this fellow.

Zandik, as you came to know him by, was unpopular among the student body. The more you hung around him the more unsavory rumors made their way to you by word of mouth. Many of them were of an angry mob which chased him from his home since he was caught experimenting on the locals. He was brash, cold, and even sadistic at times but you couldn’t imagine him going that far. Or rather you hoped he wouldn’t and looked the other way upon discovering his red flags.

The two of you sat across from each other with an uncomfortably awkward silence settling itself between you. Your eyes wandered to the other students from Inazuma enjoying getting to know each other while you were stuck with the same disrespectful junior who sent you to the Nurse’s office without so much as an ‘are you okay?’. He was more focused on whatever it was he was recently tinkering with at the moment which made you shift nervously in case it blew up again. “Senior (L/N)?” You both looked up to the group of students who came up, looking at you with concern and him with poorly hidden disdain. 

“We noticed you didn’t get paired with anyone from the motherland. You could join us if you wanted, we were about to work on letters back to our families since one of us can sneak them in.” You smiled, there was only about 16 of them in total. Which was much smaller compared to the groups from other nations. Inazuma’s lockdown had hit the youth hardest, many who managed to sneak out may never see their families again. You moved to get up but hesitated. He would’ve been all alone, though that didn’t seem to bother him as he scoffed at you and continued to work. You forced up a smile and sat back down making him halt working for a moment. “Thank you but I’ve been paired already with my junior here. Please let me know how the letters go when they arrive.” You watched them leave with a pained expression when a soft cough brought your attention back to the rude underclassmen before you with his arms folded.

“You never told me you were from Inazuma.” You smiled, was this an attempt at socialization? “You never asked, Junior.”

“Zandik. My names Zandik.”

“So your mother is from Fontaine and your father is from Sumeru. Does that mean you can speak the language of Fontaine?“ You asked as your feet dangled from the experimental table you always sat on in his private lab, leaning on your arm for balance. He scoffed as he swirled the vial in his hand, the liquid swirling from lime green to blue. He had a plethora of expressions, as you’d come to witness. He hardly ever smiled, even with his affinity for you as he liked to call it. It was his way of saying he enjoyed your company. “Yes, I can. If you must know. Just as you speak the native language of Inazuma.” He turned and stopped when he saw you on his exam table. His expression warped briefly to something you hadn’t seen before before he gestured for you to get down, making you groan.

“What if I don’t want to?“ He made a noise akin only to a growl before he pushed you down by the shoulder into the cool steel. He was much stronger than you expected, or maybe it was because he caught you off-guard. Either way, he was towering above you with a glare. “Get. Up. Lest you wish to be my next experiment. Ne me teste pas.“

Your brain felt fuzzy when you left for your classes that day. Every moment you weren’t focused on something your mind wandered to the image of him above you, holding you down easily. His voice bounced around your brain, making your heart flutter in your chest. Your cheeks would immediately flush and your train of thought was gone. You rubbed your face as you erased and rewrote your notes for the 13th time today. It was this day you began to see him as a little more than just your junior.

It wasn’t long before your duo turned into a trio, another underclassmen inviting themselves to his lab and becoming quite fond of Zandik, just as you came to terms with your emotions and your attachment to him. She was sweet, though always with her nose stuck in her journal.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fatui #fatui #fatui dottore #dottore #sumeru

[children-of-trifarian]

@vixtionary continued from Here

One could always tell when inspection was coming when the singing stopped. Among the clatter of metal against wood and steel the hum of various songs would always rumble through the work of the warmasons. There was never any consistency in tune across any camp as the diversity of the Empire brought together songs from every corner of its borders. Like any other day Caitiff simply mumbled along with her fellow workers' song of wistful memories of farm life, until it was suddenly cut off with anxious whispers.

The Grand General’s entourage had apparently arrived at their outpost causing panic and curiosity to ripple through the other workers. Caitiff just sighed not bothering to even catch a glimpse of the surveying legionaries; half because she was currently wedged underneath a ballista tightening rivets worn by use, and half because she didn’t care to. Did the other warmasons forget that they worked directly with the Trifarian Legion? It shouldn’t come as a shock for either the Grand General or the Hand to pass through here. Besides what would his presence matter to most of them, their superiors would get new orders and they would be reassigned elsewhere. Only thing Caitiff could personally hope for is to be stationed with her battle sister Megaera in Shurima; she hadn’t seen her since they fought together in Ionia. 

Her foreman barking her name catches Caitiff off guard as she quickly wiggles out from under the war machine, mud and dust clinging onto her attire as she stands. “You and I are needed at the main tent, Grand General wants to see us.” The orders of her superior echo across several ears as a dozen eyes all turn at once towards the younger warmason. Jealousy, and amusement paint the faces of her fellow workers, some whispering to one another and others openly mocking Caitiff. Breathing in deeply she pushes away the initial anxiety and walks forward, causally throwing her tools at the feet of those that harassed her. “Well why don’t you prove yourself better and finish fixing the ballistas’.” Caitiff sneers walking off with her foreman. They couldn’t, she was the only one small enough to repair those unreachable gaps, but until she came back they’d have to find a way or admit their incompetence. 

Striding quickly towards the main tent the original pang of dread resurfaces out of her own confusion at the situation. Of course the supervisors were being summoned, they were probably just going to be reassigned as usual, but why her? Was she to be promoted? That seemed unlikely, though she was no apprentice, Caitiff was still young and lacked experience. Was she being accused of something? Caitiff couldn’t think of doing anything wrong, at least nothing that would warrant an accusation from the Grand General. Stepping into the main tent the young warmason did her best to bottled her unease behind a neutral face, as a leader of the Empire graced the room.

Caitiff had only ever seen the Grand General’s visage through interpretations, particularly the great statute of Vision the stood ever watching outside the Immortal Bastion. Yet seeing Swain in person was different then she had expected. Though he commanded the room with the authority one should expect of a leader of Noxus, Caitiff could tell he bore scars and experience the same way every veteran did. Piercing red eyes at the same time waved away any relatable humanity he would give off, making him unnaturally intimating.                   

Even as the other warmasons grew elated at the news of their promotions, Caitiff stood still wary in slight disbelief at what was going on. As their letters were being handed out, Caitiff glanced at her foreman as he was handed one with the stewardship of Urzeris. Damn it, that's where Meg was, if Caitiff hadn't been summoned here in only a few weeks she’d have been with her sister again. What was so important that required her to be here- oh.

The engraving of a bird skull stared back at her, and Caitiff was affixed to the spot in disbelief. It was only after Grand General guard’s explained the situation that her confusion and anxiety finally formed into words. Swain's response at first did little to help her understand her original question and she simply paused waiting for him to finish. Nearly alone in the tent the brazier's light danced against the shadows and in the silence something itched at the back of her mind. Caitiff looked at Swain again, this time squinting as if trying to gaze something on his person. Something hidden in the darkness. . .

it can see me

Caitiff gasped as she stumbled backward a step. As soon as she had sensed its presence, it disappeared in the flickering light of the fires. What was THAT? What did he mean by power? Did he know about her sixth sense? Caitiff had never told anyone but Meg about the things she could see, it was dangerous to let a secret like that slip. There were always rumors of magically sensitive people going missing in Noxus, and though her ‘talents’ were barely more than an overactive sense of deja-vu, she still kept it to herself. 

Steadying herself, Caitiff righted her posture and silently saluted the Grand General. Even if she was nervous about such a thing being revealed there wasn’t much she could do to escape from it. And more so if Swain was like any of those nefarious enough to kidnap random mages, why would he bother to promote her in the first place. Quietly she followed the guards to go collect her things, silently hoping this initial bout of awkwardness didn’t completely ruin Swain’s first impressions of her.

Stepping back outside now escorted by the Grand General guards, Caitiff exhaled and allowed herself a moment of respite from her anxieties. Turning her attention to her letter of recruitment she broke the seal carefully so as to not destroy the original wax stamp. As she read through her new duties a goblin-like smile paints her face if only for a moment. Megaera would always boast about her own liberation at the hands of the mighty Darius himself. How the Hand of Noxus had saved her from her old tyrannical king, that this was the reason she fought and bled to become a Trifarian Legionnaire. Despite all her boasting, Megaera didn’t seem to get noticed by her General anymore, her story fading into the many others that also claimed victories alongside the Hand. Yet here Caitiff was holding a document that literally proved even without reading it that the Grand General had chosen her to serve as his warmason. Whenever they would be reunited together, Caitiff could not wait to show it to her battle sister, and rub it in her face for a very long time.

#vixtionary #IC Caitiff #hihi I hope this isn't too long #Caitiff: AHHHH i got called in to see the grand general sdgkjdsnfglfucking NERVOUS #also Caitiff: LMAO Meg’s gonna be so jealous