#lightning strike arc

[buckleyflower]

listen listen listen— post-lightning. eddie is scared, so utterly terrified, unable to physically move (except for basic needs) for days, until buck wakes up and the moment he does, eddie takes a sigh of relief and then proceeds to hide for hours and hours in the gym where he starts heavy lifting, like double the weight he’s used to lift, and this goes on and on and on, and buck notices that there’s something wrong with his best friend, he needs to take just one look at eddie to just know. he doesn’t know what, tho. and he finds out one day, when bobby calls him because somehow eddie got hurt on a call and that has something to do with the heavy weights eddie was lifting before they left the firehouse. and buck prods and prods and prods until eddie crumples and breaks down completely. and you know what? he is doing it because he wasn’t able to lift buck up, and is convinced that it’s his fault that buck had to be hanging over the ladder for so long and— buck literally stops breathing for a second, because wow, there’s so much to unpack, but he’s going to kiss eddie first. then they’ll go from there.

[tdchoshi]

Lightning Strike/Coma Episodes

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Something that I’ve thought about several times since the lightning episode is the fact that Eddie only yelled out for Buck. He never said Evan. In fact, I never even considered that he might have used Evan, not even when I first saw the promo they released of basically just Eddie yelling for Buck (still such an insane promo). And it’s both easy and kinda difficult to explain why I think Eddie didn’t shout “Evan”.

The easy part: if Eddie actually had used Evan, I think it would have confused even dedicated fans of the show. He’s only ever used Evan once before, and nobody would’ve thought it was a normal occurrence, even for a horrifying situation like the lightning strike. I actually appreciate that they didn’t have Eddie (or anybody) call Buck “Evan” during the lightning strike, because it helped drive home the familial love point of the coma. I think he was full named by coma!Bobby, and irl!Athena, but he gets called Evan by his parents and Daniel while in the coma. And it’s meant to be a reminder that Evan is for the people who don’t know Buck. Daniel because he died, but his parents because they simply didn’t care to make the effort. Maddie and his fire family did make the effort. And so none of them call him Evan in this episode.

The hard part: the reason Eddie used Evan in the Will scene was to grab and hold Buck’s attention. To tell him that what he is saying is one of, if not the, most important things he could tell Buck. He says it to make Buck listen, to make sure Buck actually hears what he has to say. I don’t think we’ll see Eddie use Evan without that type of justification. And storming up the ladder with an unconscious or dead Buck is not enough for Eddie to need Buck to listen. This is especially significant because it also means that Eddie using Evan will be a sign for the audience to listen to Eddie too. Buck couldn’t hear Eddie use “Evan” while he was dead, and Eddie isn’t in the habit of mincing his words when it comes to telling his best friend the important things.

This post is meant to break down my thoughts about the lack of “Evan” shouting by Eddie, but also to get excited about the very distinct possibility of Eddie calling Buck “Evan” during a love confession! Even though there has only been one incidence of Eddie calling him Evan, it is clear that the meaning changes when in Eddie’s mouth. And I can’t wait to see how the meaning develops if and when it’s used during the love confession.

[princessfbi]

Remember that time we all knew Buck was gonna be struck by lightning and then a few hours later we saw that Eddie was gonna run up the ladder shouting his name and then later we heard Bobby call him kid and then we watched Chimney sit on him and start compressions and then someone broke down the audio so we heard everyone super distraught and then we were just expected to be so normal and functioning humans in society?

[thepersonalwords]

In a world of lovelightning and rainbow are lovers now. They arc and strike upon the horizon of credence to rise above their cloudy vow

Munia Khan

[skygemspeaks]

okay so i watched the first 5 episodes of the tgcf donghua tonight and i'm glad i waited😅they really did not make it subtle about honghong-er being hua cheng, and in the first episode no less!

[bugsongs]

what do you MEAN your gay little firefighter got struck with LIGHTNING

well you see. he goes up the big firefighter truck ladder. and gets struck by lightning. and then his boy bestie climbs up the SAME LADDER not secured to anything and tries to lift his (literally) dead weight in the pouring rain. and has to climb back down so they can lower him instead. and also he's the one doing cpr when buck's heart restarts later at the hospital.

i almost typed another longer paragraph about the entire stupid coma dream episode after the lightning strike but i literallyyyyy can't get into it

[bigskydreaming]

911 is genuinely hilarious with how regularly they rotate who has the major accident or season long injury arc. Its like 'mom said its MY turn with the life-changing physical trauma arc!'

The biggest plot twist ever would be if they had the same character have two major accidents/traumas back to back instead of swapping to another character in between.

[lenaboskow]

truly don't understand why the lightning strike wasn't the arc buddie went canon. what do you mean eddie climbed the ladder without rope and tried to pull buck up with his bare hands? what do you mean eddie was so distraught he couldn't even look at buck? what do you mean buck ran to eddie so he could be alone? what do you mean they went on a poker date? what do you mean eddie remembers exactly how long buck was dead for, down to the second???

[moonselune]

companions with a wild magic sorc who has a really hard time trying to control their magic ? :3

yessssssssss I love this idea ahahahahahaha

Karlach:

The battlefield was still thick with the scent of blood, the air crackling with leftover magic and heat. The fight was over, bodies littering the ground behind you, and your chest heaved with exhilaration. That had been intense. Your pulse roared in your ears, your magic still buzzing beneath your skin like static before a lightning strike.

Karlach stood beside you, her hands clenched into fists, her grin wide and wild. Her infernal engine thrummed, but it was already cooling, the forced regulation kicking in as she let out a heavy exhale. You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky.

Your magic wasn’t calming down.

It crackled unpredictably, dancing across your fingertips in flickering arcs of chaotic energy. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your body unable to stop trembling from the sheer rush of it all. You wanted to run, to scream, to cast—your magic begged for release, surging up your throat like a pressure too great to contain.

Karlach turned to you, grin softening into concern when she saw the way your whole body twitched, the erratic glow in your eyes. “Hey, hey, hey—breathe, baby. Breathe.”

You tried. You really did. But instead of steadying yourself, your next breath came out as a sharp, involuntary laugh—one laced with too much magic. A ripple of force burst out from you, sending the discarded weapons around you clattering and kicking up a gust of wind strong enough to ruffle Karlach’s hair.

“Whoops,” you muttered, biting your lip.

Your fingers tingled, your skin shone faintly with some unstable, unknown spell.

“I can’t—I can’t turn it off,” you admitted, hands twitching as another spark of wild magic sent a few pebbles into the air, where they promptly started orbiting your head.

Karlach huffed out a small laugh, stepping toward you before she suddenly dodged to the side as a wayward arc of electricity zapped the ground where she had just been standing. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s not turn me into fried bacon.”

“I—I can’t think, it’s too much, I—” Another tremor of wild magic made your body pulse, and suddenly, a random bouquet of brightly colored flowers exploded out of your palm, flinging themselves dramatically into Karlach’s face.

Karlach snorted, plucking a tulip from her forehead. “Babe.”

Your voice was tight, panicked. “Karlach, I can’t stop.”

Her grin faded into something softer, something understanding. She had her own battle with too much energy, with too much fire inside her. But at least her engine forced her to calm down. You? You didn’t have that failsafe.

“Alright, c’mon, focus on me,” she said firmly, holding her hands up in a steadying gesture. She took a slow breath in. “In…”

You mirrored her, sucking in a breath through your nose.

“And out.”

You exhaled, but your magic surged with it, another unpredictable burst escaping from you and—

Karlach ducked just as a rain of glowing pink bubbles started floating down from nowhere. She blinked, watching one pop harmlessly on her nose. Then she grinned. “Okay, could’ve been worse.”

You groaned. “I hate this.”

“I love this,” Karlach said with a laugh. “This is the most fun I’ve had post-battle since I figured out I could headbutt gnolls.”

“I am being serious.” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers twitching. “I—I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Karlach sobered again, stepping closer—slowly, cautiously, avoiding the crackling wild magic still sparking off of you. “Then let’s get it out of you, nice and controlled, yeah?”

You met her gaze, still panting. “How?”

She tapped her temple. “Grounding techniques, baby. I use ‘em all the time. Let’s try…” She hummed, thinking. “Five things you can see.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Five things you can see,” she repeated, voice steady. “C’mon, focus. Tell me.”

You clenched your jaw but did as she said. “Um. Your stupidly pretty face. The battlefield. My hands. The… floating rocks still circling my head. And—oh, shit—my boots are levitating.”

Karlach looked down at your now two-inches-off-the-ground stance and wheeze-laughed. “Okay, that’s actually pretty rad.”

“Not helping.”

“Right, right. Four things you can touch.”

Your breathing slowed as you focused. “The wind. My robes. The magic—it’s under my skin, I can feel it. And… your voice.”

Karlach softened. “Good, babe. Three things you can hear.”

You swallowed. “My heartbeat. Yours. The bubbles.”

Karlach grinned. “Two things you can smell.”

“Blood. And—you.”

That made her pause. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you said, blinking hard. “Like… metal. And heat. And you.”

Karlach’s grin turned wicked. “Damn, you been sniffing me, sweetheart?”

“I swear to the gods, Karlach—”

“Last one,” she interrupted, stepping closer, brushing her fingers against yours. “One thing you can taste.”

You hesitated. Your lips parted, your breath still ragged from the rush of it all, but now Karlach was right there. You looked at her, the way her infernal glow lit up her face, the warmth of her body so close to yours.

“…You,” you whispered.

Karlach’s pupils dilated. “Oh, fuck.”

And then your mouth crashed against hers.

The instant your lips met, the magic inside you pulsed—and suddenly, the storm inside you wasn’t dangerous anymore. It flowed into Karlach’s touch, into her lips, into the warmth of her, grounding you as you melted into her grip. Your boots hit the ground again. The floating pebbles plummeted. The bubbles popped and vanished.

The magic was still there—of course it was, it was you—but now it was quiet, steady.

Karlach pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “Hells, babe, if I’d known kissing you was all it took—”

You huffed a breathless laugh. “We should test the theory. Again. For science.”

Karlach grinned, fangs flashing. “I love the way you think.”

And she kissed you again.

Minthara:

“By the gods, Minthara, what were you thinking?”

The words burst from your lips like a fireball, laced with exasperation, frustration, and just the tiniest bit of incredulity. You stood with your arms crossed, glaring at the drow before you, barely aware of the way your magic crackled and shimmered around you. It wasn’t unusual for your wild magic to act up in moments of heightened emotion, but you were too focused on your righteous anger to notice.

Minthara, ever composed, had the audacity to lift her chin, still maintaining that infuriatingly regal air. “I was thinking, my love, that my experience—”

“No. No, no, no, don’t you dare try to justify this!” You pointed at her, your finger sparking slightly with a rogue ember. “You walked into that hag’s lair without backup! Without me! And why? Because you ‘had it under control’? Minthara, she turned you into a squirrel!”

Minthara pursed her lips, her eye twitching slightly. “A temporary setback.”

“A humiliating setback,” you countered, throwing your arms in the air—unaware of the way golden sparks trailed from your fingertips. “And then I had to come in and fix it! Again! Just like last week when you thought you could intimidate a mindflayer into submission—”

“I nearly succeeded.”

“You did not! It tried to eat your brain!”

She opened her mouth to argue again, but you weren’t done. No, you were finally the one who was right, and you were going to bask in this rare moment of victory.

“I swear, Minthara, your ego causes you to have no sense of self-preservation! And then you tell me that I am reckless? That I am impulsive?” You let out a sharp laugh, magic crackling around you, the air growing thick with the scent of flowers. “You are infuriating! Stubborn, arrogant, foolhardy—”

Minthara tried to interject, but your magic flared again, sending a gust of wind that knocked over a nearby pile of scrolls. She sighed through her nose, already regretting her decision to let you rant uninterrupted.

“—And do not get me started on that ridiculous notion that you don’t need anyone’s help,” you continued, your wild magic shifting again, responding to the sheer intensity of your emotions. “Because guess what, Minthara? You do! You do need help! You do need me! And if you ever pull a stunt like that again, so help me, I will—”

You paused. Minthara had gone silent. Too silent. Your righteous fury momentarily faded as you blinked and looked at her properly—only to realize that she was no longer standing.

She was on the floor.

Bound.

And gagged.

By flowery vines.

You stared.

Minthara’s white-hot glare could have set you on fire. The vines wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides in an almost mocking embrace, while another curled delicately around her mouth, muffling any words she might have been trying to speak. Wildflowers bloomed along the bindings, soft and fragrant, an utterly ridiculous contrast to the absolute fury in Minthara’s eyes.

A slow, horrible realization dawned on you.

“…Oh.”

Minthara’s nostrils flared.

You winced, stepping forward as if that would somehow make up for this situation. “Um. How long have you—?”

A muffled snarl.

“Right. Okay. Uh. I might have gotten a little… carried away.”

Minthara arched a single, deadly brow. You pursed your lips, fighting the urge to laugh. You couldn’t laugh. That would make this so much worse.

“You look—”

A warning growl.

“—very dignified, actually.”

Minthara closed her eyes, as if calling upon the patience of every god she had ever rejected. You rubbed the back of your neck, shifting slightly.

“So… should I…?” You gestured vaguely to the vines.

Minthara’s golden eyes snapped open, filled with an icy promise of retribution.

“Right, right, I’ll fix it.”

With a flick of your fingers, you focused on dispelling the magic, watching as the vines loosened and slithered away, fading back into nothingness. Minthara immediately pushed herself up, brushing off imaginary dust as she straightened her armor. You took a cautious step back, suddenly less confident in your victory.

“So… no hard feelings?”

Minthara turned to you slowly, deliberately, her expression deadly.

“…I see,” she murmured, voice silk-smooth. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You swallowed. “Um.”

“I must admit, my love.” She took a step forward, and you resisted the urge to take a step back. “I did not expect to be humiliated today, twice.” Another step. “And yet, here I am. Tied up. By flowers.”

Your lips twitched. “It was very aesthetic.”

Minthara inhaled sharply through her nose.

You cleared your throat, schooling your features into something apologetic. “But in my defense, I was right.”

Minthara’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

“Yes,” she admitted. “For once.”

You smiled. “Glad we can agree—”

Minthara grabbed you by the collar, yanked you forward, and whispered in your ear, “Run.”

You blinked. Then, without hesitation, you ran. Her laughter—low and deliciously vengeful—followed close behind.

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel was winning. Again.

Your chest heaved, sweat slicking your skin, and your arms ached from parrying her relentless blows. She was relentless in every way—strong, fast, utterly brutal in combat. It was infuriating. Your magic crackled beneath your skin, simmering at the edges of your control, waiting for an opportunity to break free.

But you didn’t need it. You could win this sparring match without wild magic. At least, that’s what you told yourself—right before Lae’zel swept your legs out from under you with a single, infuriatingly graceful motion.

You hit the ground hard, groaning as you rolled onto your side, glaring up at her. Lae’zel stood over you, spear in hand, expression sharp with satisfaction.

“Yield,” she demanded, eyes burning with that arrogant certainty that she always had when she bested you.

You refused.

Instead, you pushed yourself back onto your feet, breath heavy, and lifted your hands. Lae’zel grinned, shifting into a defensive stance. She liked this, liked that you didn’t give up. But you were so tired of losing.

She lunged forward. You dodged—barely. Her spear grazed past your ribs, and the shock of the near-hit sent something surging through you, something electric. Your magic flared before you could stop it.

Lae’zel’s next strike never landed. Instead, the wind shifted violently around you, and your body blurred—one moment you were there, and the next you were behind her, your own momentum carrying you faster than you should have been able to move. Lae’zel snarled, spinning to face you, but you were already striking out, landing a solid hit against her side.

She stumbled. She never stumbled. Lae’zel’s eyes snapped to yours, wide with disbelief. “You—”

You grinned. Lightning crackled at your fingertips as your wild magic lashed out again, this time turning the ground beneath her feet slick—not with water, not with ice, but with something unpredictable, something that sent her footing completely off balance.

She barely caught herself, growling, golden eyes narrowing. “You cheat!”

You laughed, full of reckless joy. “And?”

Lae’zel lunged again, and this time, you knew you had her. Your magic flared, pushing you just fast enough to evade her, just strong enough to flip her onto her back with a well-timed sweep of your leg. And then—finally—you pinned her.

Your body hovered over hers, hands braced on either side of her head, wild magic still crackling in the air around you—glowing embers and swirling wind, the scent of ozone thick between you both. You could feel the energy rolling off you, could see the way the world warped around your magic’s chaotic influence.

Lae’zel looked up at you, utterly unamused. “Well?”

You beamed.

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “Are you pleased with yourself?”

You let out a breathless, triumphant laugh, still grinning down at her. “You have no idea.”

Lae’zel clicked her tongue, shifting beneath you, her expression a careful mask of irritation—but you could see it. The slight curl of her lips. The way her fingers twitched against the dirt, as if resisting the urge to drag you down and flip you over instead.

“You fight like a fool,” she muttered, voice lower now, quieter.

“And yet,” you teased, leaning just a little closer, “the fool won.”

She huffed. “Only because they cannot control their magic.”

“Or maybe,” you murmured, feeling your magic spark warm and golden between you, “you just underestimated me.”

Lae’zel scoffed, but there was something else behind it now—something that made your magic hum for an entirely different reason.

“You will spar with me again,” she declared. “Without your magic.”

You grinned, slowly pulling away, offering her a hand. “And if I win?”

Lae’zel took your hand, gripping it just tight enough to remind you of her strength as she pulled herself up. She leaned in, voice low and deliberate. “Then, perhaps, I will allow you to celebrate properly.”

Your wild magic sparked, sending a burst of shimmering light into the sky. Lae’zel smirked.

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart pressed a finger to her lips as the two of you stumbled down the darkened path toward camp.

"Quiet," she whispered, though the word was barely more than a giggle. You tried to nod solemnly, but the movement made the world tilt, and you ended up bracing yourself against her shoulder instead.

"I'm always quiet," you mumbled, completely oblivious to the fact that you had not been quiet all night.

Shadowheart snorted. "Liar."

The two of you had spent the evening at the local tavern, ignoring Lae’zel’s strict warnings about muscle development and alcohol consumption. In hindsight, maybe that had been a bad idea. Not because of the drinking itself—no, that had been fantastic—but because sneaking back into camp while absolutely inebriated was turning out to be significantly harder than anticipated.

Especially because your magic had other plans.

The first sign of trouble came when you stepped forward—and promptly teleported ten feet ahead.

Shadowheart yelped as she was suddenly left behind, and you barely managed to stay upright, wobbling dangerously as you turned back to her. "Oops."

Shadowheart stared. "What—?"

Before she could finish, another magic surge took hold, and suddenly, a cluster of faintly glowing bubbles floated up from your skin, drifting lazily into the air like some kind of drunken sorcery hiccup.

Shadowheart’s mouth opened, then closed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're going to get us caught."

"No, you’re going to get us caught," you shot back, even though it made absolutely no sense.

Shadowheart sighed and grabbed your wrist, tugging you forward. "Come on, before—"

A bright, multicolored spark exploded from your fingertips, arcing across the sky like a tiny firework. You both froze.

Shadowheart’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide with horror. "What was that?"

You gave a sheepish smile. "Uh… magic?"

"Why?"

"I—hic—don't know," you admitted. "It just does things sometimes."

Shadowheart groaned, rubbing her temples. "Lae’zel is going to murder us."

You tried to look serious, but then another hiccup escaped—and with it, the faint sound of tiny chimes.

Shadowheart exhaled sharply. "You are literally jingling."

You clamped your hands over your mouth in an attempt to stifle any further magical nonsense. It did not work. Instead, your magic decided to transform your hair into a shifting mass of glowing strands, like the aurora borealis.

Shadowheart just stared at it in awe and disbelief. You gave a weak chuckle. "At least it's pretty?"

"You are glowing," she hissed. "They are definitely going to see us now!"

Panicking, you tried to suppress the magic, to focus on keeping everything normal. But—unfortunately for you—the harder you tried, the worse it got.

Shadowheart gasped and shoved you behind a tree just as Astarion’s voice carried through the night. "Did someone light a bloody torch?"

Your heart pounded. You peeked around the tree, only to see Astarion squinting into the darkness, clearly suspicious. Shadowheart clamped a hand over your mouth. "If you make a sound, I will let Lae’zel have you."

You nodded rapidly, holding your breath.

For a moment, it seemed like Astarion was about to investigate further—but then, by some miracle (or sheer dumb luck), he shook his head and muttered something about not having enough sanity for this nonsense before walking back toward his tent.

You and Shadowheart stayed completely still. Then, slowly, she removed her hand from your mouth. You exhaled. "That was close."

Shadowheart glared at you. "If I get in trouble for this, I am blaming you entirely."

You grinned, grabbing her hand. "Fair. Now hurry up before—"

With one last, particularly unfortunate magic surge, the two of you vanished from the tree—only to reappear right in the center of camp, directly in front of Lae’zel.

She blinked. You blinked. Shadowheart swore violently.

Lae’zel crossed her arms, scowling. "I told you that alcohol ruins muscle development. You inebriated, reckless-"

You and Shadowheart exchanged a look. Then you both bolted in opposite directions.

Jaheira:

Jaheira walked a few steps ahead of you, the golden light of the late afternoon sun catching in the streaks of silver in her hair. She was effortlessly graceful, her movements as fluid as the wind rustling through the leaves. You, however, were slightly less composed—partially because you were trying (poorly) to be charming, and partially because your wild magic had other plans.

This was meant to be romantic. A peaceful stroll through the woods, away from camp, away from the chaos of battle, away from the many, many interruptions that came with traveling in a group. You wanted to impress her. You wanted to make her see that you weren’t just a reckless, chaotic spellcaster prone to magical mishaps—you were someone worth taking seriously.

Unfortunately, your magic had never been good at listening to what you wanted.

"So," Jaheira said, looking back at you with a raised brow. "You insisted on dragging me out here—what exactly was your plan?"

You flashed a grin, trying to exude confidence. "Well, I thought we could take a moment to enjoy the beauty of nature… and, you know, each other."

Jaheira hummed, amused. "Oh? Are you trying to woo me?"

You opened your mouth to respond—only for your words to be drowned out by the sudden, unmistakable sound of quacking.

You froze.

Jaheira blinked. "Was that a duck?"

You turned your head very slowly toward the source of the noise, only to find a small flock of ducks waddling through the underbrush, staring at you expectantly.

Jaheira followed your gaze, then turned her eyes back to you, suspicious. "Did you do that?"

"I—uh—" You swallowed, trying to play it off. "M-maybe it’s just… a very duck-heavy part of the woods?"

Jaheira folded her arms. "Is that so?"

As if to completely betray you, another surge of magic rippled outward—and suddenly, the ducks had tiny, shimmering capes sprouting from their backs. You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Damn it."

Jaheira let out a low chuckle, her amusement barely contained. "I see. So you have enchanted ducks now."

You sighed, crossing your arms in a weak attempt at regaining some dignity. "This wasn’t part of the plan."

Jaheira smirked, stepping closer. "I certainly hope not. Otherwise, I’d have to question your approach to romance."

Before you could answer, another magic surge flared up—this time with a sharp pop—and your clothes completely changed. Gone was your usual traveling attire. Instead, you were now wearing an elaborate, flowery ball gown, complete with a ridiculous amount of lace. Jaheira clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a laugh.

"Oh," she said, eyes glittering with delight. "That is quite the look for you."

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "I was going for charming rogue, not—whatever this is!"

Jaheira stepped back, pretending to appraise you like an art piece.

"Regal," she mused. "Elegant." Her smirk widened. "Utterly impractical for the woods."

"Jaheira," you groaned, fighting the blush threatening to creep up your neck.

She chuckled again, shaking her head. "You are truly something else."

You let out a long breath, finally giving up on controlling the situation. Instead, you turned to her, crossing your arms. "Well? Are you wooed yet?"

Jaheira tilted her head, as if actually considering it. "Mmm… I think I could be."

You perked up slightly. "Yeah?"

Jaheira leaned in just a little, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of herbs and earth on her skin. "If you kiss me before your magic teleports you into a tree."

Your heart definitely skipped a beat at that.

Not wasting a second, you surged forward and kissed her, pressing your lips firmly against hers. Jaheira responded in kind, one hand coming up to cup your face, the other resting lightly on your waist.

For a brief, blessed moment, there was no wild magic, no chaos—just the warmth of her lips, the steady strength of her presence, and the thrill of realizing that despite all of this ridiculousness, she still wanted you.

Then, of course—

Pop.

You disappeared.

And reappeared.

In a tree.

Jaheira let out a long-suffering sigh, looking up at you as you dangled from a branch in your ridiculous ball gown.

"Well," she said, hands on her hips. "That was predictable."

You groaned. "You are wooed, though, right?"

Jaheira shook her head, but there was undeniable fondness in her expression. "Yes," she admitted. "Unfortunately, I am."

Gale:

The fire flickered low in the camp, casting warm golden light over the both of you. Gale sat with his back hunched, staring into the embers as though they held all the answers in the world. His fingers were loosely curled, twitching slightly, as if resisting the urge to conjure something—anything—to distract himself from the weight pressing down on his shoulders.

You had seen him like this before. Pensive, lost in thought, burdened with the knowledge of what Mystra had tasked him with. But tonight, he looked particularly hollow.

You scooted closer, resting a hand over his. He barely reacted at first, lost in his own mind.

"You're thinking about it again," you murmured. He let out a slow, measured breath.

"I suppose I am," he admitted. His voice was softer than usual, devoid of its usual flair and wit. "It's a rather difficult thing to ignore. When a goddess tells you your death is necessary, it tends to linger in one's thoughts."

You squeezed his hand, shaking your head. "You know that's not going to happen, right?"

Gale gave you a ghost of a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And you know that certainty is dangerous. What if it does? What if there is no other way?"

"Then I'll find one," you said fiercely. "I'm not letting you go, Gale."

He looked at you then, properly, and for the first time that night, his expression softened just a little.

"You have a habit of saying things with such conviction," he mused. "It makes me want to believe you."

"Good," you said, squeezing his hand again. "Because you should believe me."

And just as you thought, just as you felt the mood settling into something steady and warm—your magic decided to act up.

It started as a tingling in your fingertips. Then a low, crackling hum beneath your skin, creeping up your arms and down your spine like an untamed storm waiting to break free. You tried to ignore it. You really did. You were saying something important, this was not the time for a random surge of magic.

But your magic had never cared about timing.

There was a sudden, sharp poof!—and Gale let out a very undignified yelp as a bunch of conjured blueberries rained down upon his head and several plump berries rolled off his shoulders and onto the ground.

"Ah," Gale said slowly, picking one up between his fingers. "A… fruit-based outburst, this time?"

You cringed, rubbing your face. "Oh, come on."

But then—Gale chuckled. It was quiet at first, but it quickly turned into a full, warm laugh. The kind of laugh you hadn't heard from him in far too long.

"You must admit," he said between chuckles, plucking a blueberry from his lap and inspecting it as if it were an artifact, "your magic has a rather dramatic sense of humor, my love."

You exhaled, shaking your head but unable to stop the smile pulling at your lips. "I swear, it knows when I'm trying to be serious."

Gale smiled—properly this time. "Perhaps it simply knows you well." He held out the blueberry toward you, tilting his head. You huffed but accepted the offering, popping it into your mouth. Sweet. Tart. A little ridiculous. Much like the moment itself.

But it worked. Gale was smiling again. The weight in his eyes had lessened. Maybe your magic wasn't so bad after all.

Astarion:

It was a rare, golden afternoon—the kind of summer’s day where the warmth of the sun soaked into your bones, easing every ache and tension. The air smelled of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass, and the only sound was the lazy hum of insects and the occasional contented sigh from Astarion beside you.

You lay sprawled on a soft blanket, basking in the sunlight, your head tilted back as you soaked in the heat. Astarion was doing the same, his shirt discarded, his pale skin almost glowing in the light. He stretched languidly, a smug smile curling at his lips.

“I think I was made for this,” he mused, shifting slightly so he was propped up on one elbow, gazing at you through lidded eyes. “Lounging, basking, looking irresistible…” He ran a hand through his silvery curls with a self-satisfied sigh. “Yes, I could certainly get used to this.”

You chuckled, turning your face toward him. “You’re just enjoying not bursting into flames.”

“Well, yes, obviously. But also, look at me.” He gestured vaguely at himself. “I am gorgeous in this lighting.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t exactly argue. He was gorgeous—always was, really, but there was something almost unfair about how the sunlight caught in his hair, how it made his usually pale skin look just the faintest bit warmer.

It was, in fact, the perfect moment. So, naturally, that’s when your magic decided to ruin it. The first sign was the chill against your skin.

Astarion blinked, then frowned, tilting his head toward the sky. “Darling, did you feel that? It just got—”

A fat, freezing-cold raindrop landed square on his forehead.

You winced. “Oh.”

Astarion’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, oh?”

You slowly turned your head, looking upward. A tiny, gray raincloud had materialized directly above you—no larger than a dinner plate, floating innocently against the otherwise perfect blue sky.

Astarion followed your gaze, eyes narrowing. “Are you kidding me?”

Another raindrop splattered against his bare chest. He screeched—a dramatic, offended sound—as if the heavens themselves had personally slighted him. You, meanwhile, tried very hard not to laugh.

“I swear,” he gritted out, sitting up and scowling at the little cloud, “your magic has a personal vendetta against me.”

“It’s not personal!” you protested. “It just… gets excited sometimes. Hard not to around you my love.”

“Flattery will not save you, my dear,” Astarion flicked damp hair from his forehead, thoroughly unimpressed. “Though, perhaps it could excite itself somewhere else.”

Before you could respond, the cloud trembled—and promptly doubled in size and a steady drizzle began to fall.

Astarion let out a highly offended gasp. “No. Absolutely not.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but Astarion heard it. Slowly, he turned his glare on you.

“Are you laughing?” he accused, scandalized.

You shook your head furiously. “No! I would never—”

A sudden plop of water landed directly on the tip of Astarion’s nose. There was a moment of silence. Then, you lost it. You howled with laughter, clutching your stomach as you rolled onto your side. Astarion looked deeply unamused.

“I despise you,” he grumbled, running a hand down his soaked face.

“I’m so—pfft—sorry,” you wheezed, though you made absolutely no effort to stop laughing.

Astarion dramatically flopped back onto the blanket, arms spread as he stared at the sky in despair. “This is my eternity now. Soaked to the bone. Drowned in tragic irony. Oh, the suffering.”

The little cloud gave a tiny, happy rumble of thunder. You wiped at your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

“Okay, okay. I’ll fix it.” You held up your hands, closing your eyes in concentration. “I just need to—”

Your fingers sparked. Astarion sat bolt upright. “Wait—!”

With a loud whoosh, the cloud exploded. Instead of disappearing, however, it multiplied. Three more little storm clouds materialized above you, drifting in lazy circles. One gave an ominous rumble before releasing a tiny zap of static into the air.

Astarion yelped and scrambled away. “Oh, for the love of—”

You bit your lip, watching the clouds with a nervous chuckle. “Okay. That was… unexpected.”

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, dearest, do you ever get tired of constantly defying logic and reason?”

You grinned at him. “Never.”

He gave you a long, long look. Then he sighed, moving to lie next to you. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Owe you what?”

Astarion stretched, pulling you closer, now clearly enjoying your suffering. “A proper sunbathing day. Without your chaotic little curse ruining it.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

You both lay there for a while, the warm drizzle continuing to fall. And despite all his very dramatic complaints, you noticed Astarion didn’t actually move away. He stayed right there beside you, letting the warm summer rain kiss his skin, his hand eventually finding yours.

Maybe your magic wasn’t all bad.

Wyll:

It had been too long.

Between battles, group politics, and Wyll’s ever-present sense of duty, stolen moments had become few and far between. Every time the two of you had tried to sneak away, something had stopped you—camp business, emergencies, or someone just needing Wyll for something. It was infuriating. You loved him, but gods, the man was too beloved.

But tonight? Tonight, there was a window of opportunity.

Gale was deep in one of his long-winded magical lectures, Shadowheart was tending to her prayers, Lae’zel had gone off to sharpen her sword in solitude, and Karlach was keeping the others entertained with one of her enthusiastic stories. No one was paying attention.

So you grabbed Wyll by the wrist and all but dragged him into the privacy of a secluded tent. The moment the flap fell shut, Wyll let out a breathless chuckle. “Gods, darling, someone’s eager—”

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. You crashed your lips against his, hands already pulling at the laces of his tunic.

Wyll groaned into your mouth, hands finding your waist, pulling you in flush against him. “You really—mmh—don’t waste time, do you?”

“Not when we barely get a chance for this,” you muttered, tugging at his belt, desperate to rid him of the layers between you.

He laughed, but it was rough, needy. His hands roamed over your body, mapping out familiar curves and lines, fingers tugging at your own clothes with equal impatience. It was frantic, messy, all teeth and tongue and desperate hands fumbling to remove anything in the way.

And then—

The air crackled. You froze. Wyll did, too. A telltale shimmer of wild magic pulsed in the air around you, like static before a storm.

“Don’t,” Wyll said immediately, as you opened your mouth to acknowledge it. He cupped your face, pressing another desperate kiss against your lips. “Just try to ignore it my love.”

You wanted to. Oh, you really did. So you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, trying to drown in the feeling of him.

The magic had other plans. A sudden whoosh of wind swept through the tent, making the fabric ripple. Then, your fingers—your fingers in Wyll’s hair—began to spark. Wyll let out a startled grunt, pulling back just slightly. “Ow, love—”

“Ignore it,” you said quickly, mirroring his words, diving back in to kiss him. You both tried. You really tried.

But then Wyll’s levitated off the ground. You pulled back just in time to see him slowly, involuntarily, rising into the air. His eyes went wide. “Oh. Oh, no.”

You pressed your lips together, stifling a laugh.

Wyll tried to glare at you but his own amused smile gave him away. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

You held up your hands innocently. “I—”

A sudden pop of magic sent a rain of flower petals cascading from the air. Wyll, now hovering midair, arms crossed, let out a long-suffering sigh as pink and white petals rained down on him. “…I do hate your magic's timing sometimes.”

That did it. You lost it.

Dissolving into laughter, you clutched your stomach, shaking your head. “I’m’m so sorry—”

“You are not sorry!" Wyll half laughed incredulously. He was right, you weren’t. Not at all.

But you were very.... frustrated. Wyll, still floating, looked down at you with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Are you able to, perhaps, undo whatever this is?”

You huffed, trying to reign in your magic, but it was lively tonight. “Maybe if I focus…”

You took a deep breath, concentrating. The magic shivered—and then, with an audible pop, Wyll dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

“Oof—!” He grunted as he hit the floor with a thud, sprawled on his back.

You winced. “Okay, so, uh. That worked.”

Wyll groaned. Then, slowly, he opened one eye, looking up at you. “…You owe me for this.”

You smirked, crawling on top of him, pressing a kiss to his jaw, straddling him. “Oh, I plan to make it up to you. Thoroughly.”

Halsin:

You hadn’t meant for it to turn into an argument. Really, you hadn’t.

But you couldn’t ignore the way Halsin’s shoulders tensed every time you passed through the city streets. The way his usual warmth dimmed ever so slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes flickered between the towering stone buildings and the struggling patches of green fighting to reclaim space.

And then there were his remarks. Always calm, always measured—too measured.

"The city suffocates the land, forcing nature into corners where it struggles to thrive."

"Civilization believes itself above the cycle, and yet it relies upon it more than it knows."

"It is a balance long since broken, though I still hope it may yet be mended."

Each time he spoke like that, with such a deep-seated melancholy in his voice, your heart clenched. Halsin put so much on his shoulders—he always had.

And he didn’t talk about it. Not really. So, naturally, you decided to push. Which led to the two of you standing in the middle of your shared tent, the flickering candlelight casting shadows against the fabric walls, you weren’t sure how things had escalated to this point.

Halsin stood opposite you, arms crossed over his broad chest, his brow furrowed. “I do not know why you insist on making this a debate.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling. “I’m not trying to argue with you, Halsin. I just—” You paused, searching his face. “I want you to talk to me. Really talk to me.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “What would you have me say?”

You gestured, exasperated. “I don’t know, maybe that it bothers you? That the sight of Baldur’s Gate makes you want to rip your hair out? That it hurts you to see nature reduced to nothing but parks and gardens?”

Halsin sighed, rubbing his temples. “You already know how I feel about the balance between civilization and nature.”

“Yes, but I want to hear how you feel about it. Not as a druid, not as the former Archdruid of Emerald Grove—but as Halsin.”

His expression flickered, something shifting behind his golden eyes, but then—

A sudden zap of static shot through the air. Halsin stiffened and you did too.

“Oh no,” you muttered. You barely had a second to react before a gust of wild magic whooshed through the tent, sending the candle sputtering and the blanket on your bed suddenly jumping to life, flopping onto the floor and wriggling like a fish out of water.

Halsin blinked. “…Is that meant to be happening?”

You put your head in your hands and took a deep breath in, willing the blanket to stop. The blanket gave one last twitch only to scuttle off to sulk in the corner.

You shook your head, refocusing. “Look, I’m serious about this, Halsin. You don’t always have to be the wise, collected druid, you know? You can be angry about this. You can be—”

Pop.

Your clothes disappeared. All of them.

You let out a choked sound as you realized you were now completely, entirely, naked. Halsin went rigid. His gaze immediately shot up to the ceiling, his ears turning bright red.

“…I see.” He cleared his throat, voice suddenly very strained. “A rather unfortunate surge of magic.”

Your face burned. “Oh for the love of—!”

You hastily grabbed at the nearest thing to cover yourself, which, unfortunately, was the cursed blanket that had been sulking. The moment you touched it, it wrapped itself around you like a desperate lover, squeezing tightly and pinning your arms to your sides.

Halsin made a strangled sound that might have been laughter. You gave him a look. “Not. A. Word.”

He coughed into his fist, though the corners of his lips definitely twitched. “I… understand.”

You sighed, struggling against the blanket’s clingy grasp. “Anyway—as I was saying—”

Another pulse of magic crackled through the air and Halsin suddenly shrunk. Like, literally.

One second, he was standing there, arms crossed, looking like he was barely restraining himself from laughing at your predicament. The next? He was barely a foot tall, his clothes now comically oversized and draping over him like a discarded cloak.

You both stared at each other in stunned silence.

“…Ah,” Halsin said, his voice now ridiculously tiny and squeaky.

That was it. That broke you.

You doubled over, nearly toppling onto the floor as you wheezed with laughter. “Oh—oh my gods—”

Halsin sighed, pinching the bridge of his now miniscule nose. “I am glad you find this amusing.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you tried—and failed—to control yourself. “Halsin. Love. My dear. My tiny bear—”

“Don’t,” he warned, in his high pitch voice. You wheezed harder, your entire body shaking with laughter.

Halsin exhaled through his nose, crossing his tiny arms. “If you are quite finished…”

You wiped at your eyes, still grinning. “Okay, okay. I’m done. Just—hold on, let me—” You focused, trying to reign in your magic, trying to fix this.

A shimmer of energy pulsed through the tent—

And then Halsin was big again. But, now he was completely naked, too. However, he did not care and merely put his hands on his hips.

"Must we really continue this argument? It is evident your magic believes we should be participating in other heated endeavours." Halsin proposed as he began to saunter over to you, that sly look in his eye. But you were resolute, you were going to get through to him.

"Yes, Halsin it is important for us to-" Whoosh! The blanket was gone in a gust of wind that forced you to stumble forward into Halsin's massive frame, your naked bodies now pressed flush together. You groaned and rested your forehead against his chest. "Fine, but we are talking about this afterwards."

Halsin smirked and kissed you roughly, he was going to ensure that this argument would be the last thing that was on your mind.

I took a mixed approach with this, a bit of fluff, a bit of angst, a bit of crack. It was super fun to write and I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[sh4nksslvt]

Hello beautiful. Can I please ask you for a reader x Law? The battle between Blackbeard and Law was in full swing. Law was losing when a denden in Beppo's pocket grabbed the denden. I'll open the way for you, just for a moment. Take that idiot with you. Beppo knew who the woman was who loved his captain and gave him her heart. Blackbeard attacked, but the girl intercepted the attack. Meanwhile, several explosions on the ship alerted Blackbeard. You?!! The young woman reflected the blow, and countless lightning bolts fell on Blackbeard and his men. Beppo had taken his captain. Law recognized the lightning attack. He didn't want to leave. Days later in the New World, The girl watched over Law day and night. Law woke up from a nightmare, seeing her asleep in the chair next to his bed.

tis not much but hope u like itt><

Voltage in Veins

As the battle between Law and Blackbeard rages, a long-lost ally unleashes a storm of reckoning to save the man who once stole her heart.

Law X fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: slight angst, sfw, hurt/comfort, near-death recovery a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Polar Tang surfaced amidst chaos. Under relentless assault from Blackbeard's crew, the Heart Pirates had no choice but to make landfall on Winner Island. The situation worsened when Doc Q unleashed his Sick-Sick Fruit, infecting the crew with a feminization disease. Law, drawing upon his Haki, managed to neutralize the effects, restoring himself and his crew to normal.

As they regrouped, Van Augur and Burgess teleported onto the island using the Warp-Warp Fruit. Burgess, empowered by the Strong-Strong Fruit, hurled a massive mountain towards them. Law swiftly countered, slicing the mountain into fragments with his Room and Amputate techniques.

Blackbeard descended upon the battlefield, declaring his intent to seize Law's Road Poneglyph copies. The confrontation escalated as Blackbeard utilized his Quake-Quake Fruit, causing the ground to tremble. Law retaliated with a K-Room-enhanced sword strike, piercing Blackbeard and delivering a shockwave. However, Blackbeard absorbed the attack and countered with his Dark-Dark Fruit, enveloping Law in darkness.

Amidst the turmoil, Beppo's Den Den Mushi crackled to life. "Beppo," a familiar voice resonated. "I'll open a path. Just for a moment. Take that idiot with you."

Recognizing the voice, Beppo's eyes widened. "Y/N!?"

His chest ached.

He remembered you—of course he did. The woman who’d once smiled like a sunrise when Law walked into a room. The one who wore danger like perfume and threw herself between enemies and those she loved without hesitation.

The one who had given Trafalgar Law her heart—and disappeared.

He didn’t ask how you knew where they were. Or why you’d come back now. He only nodded, eyes shining, because of course you would come. Because even after everything, you still loved him.

Beppo tucked the den-den mushi back into his pocket.

A moment was all he needed.

"Now!" you commanded.

Blackbeard loomed over Law, twisted grin slicing through his beard. Blood dripped from his arm as he raised it for the final blow.

“Zehahaha! Looks like your luck ran out, Surgeon.”

But the blow never landed.

Suddenly, the sky darkened as storm clouds gathered. A bolt of lightning struck between the combatants, momentarily blinding everyone. The sky howled. Thunder split the heavens open and slammed into the sea with a fury that shook ships and souls alike.

And then—her.

Your body collided with Blackbeard’s Haki-coated fist, intercepting it, teeth gritted, blood trickling down the corner of your mouth. The force should’ve crushed your ribs. Maybe it did.

But you didn’t stop.

You reflected it.

Blackbeard stumbled back, eyes wide.

“You?!”

The sky shattered again, this time at your command. Lightning lanced down in furious arcs, engulfing the enemy’s ship in glowing chaos. Your power was raw, electric, like nature itself bending to your rage. Bolts cracked the mast, exploded cannons, knocked men overboard.

You didn’t stop to see if it was enough.

You turned, hand outstretched.

“Go!” you shouted at Beppo.

He didn’t argue. He grabbed Law, bloodied and unconscious, and vanished into the shadows like a loyal ghost.

You stayed behind, a storm in human skin.

Channeling your powers, lightning surged from your fingertips, targeting Blackbeard and his crew. The Heart Pirates seized the opportunity, with Beppo grabbing the unconscious Law and retreating to the Polar Tang.

Blackbeard, momentarily stunned, roared in frustration as you continued your assault, ensuring the Heart Pirates' escape.

Days later, somewhere deep in the New World, Law’s eyes fluttered open.

The world was dim, bathed in flickering candlelight. Pain lanced through his side. He hissed softly, hand twitching toward his wound—but someone caught it first.

“Don’t,” you murmured.

He turned his head sharply.

You sat next to the bed, face pale, shadows under your eyes, strands of hair clinging to your face with sweat. Your arm was bandaged, blood seeping through the gauze. You looked… exhausted. Hurt.

Real.

“…You,” he rasped.

“I’m here.”

He stared at you in disbelief.

“I saw you.”

“I know.”

“I thought—”

“I know.”

The silence stretched. Tense. Fragile.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said quietly.

“I had to.”

“You could’ve died.”

“You would’ve died.”

Law swallowed hard.

There were so many things he could say. Should say. Things that had burned in his chest since the day you left.

But all he managed was: “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

His jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you vanish?”

You looked down at your hands. “Because I loved you too much. And I knew I was a distraction.”

Law stared at you, stormy eyes unreadable.

“I couldn’t be the reason you lost focus. Not with what you’re trying to do. Not with D’s Will. You had too much on your shoulders already.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

You flinched.

“I know,” you said.

Another silence. Softer, sadder.

“I thought I could handle it,” you admitted. “Staying away. Letting you go. But the second I heard Blackbeard had you cornered, I couldn’t breathe.”

Law closed his eyes.

“I panicked. I begged whoever was listening to let me get there in time. I knew I only had one shot. I thought… if I could just save you, it would be enough.”

He opened his eyes again. “And after?”

“I was going to disappear again.”

Law’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Tch, coward.”

You laughed once, bitter and breathless. “Yeah.”

Silence again.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered.

He reached for your hand, slow but sure. Fingers curled around yours.

“I’d rather see you bleeding beside me than buried somewhere I’ll never find.”

You blinked, stunned.

Law’s grip tightened slightly. “You’re not just a part of my life. You’re the part that makes it worth living.”

You looked away quickly, eyes burning. “You’re still delirious.”

“I’m not.”

You chuckled weakly, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve.

“…I stayed,” you said. “I couldn’t make myself leave again.”

“Good.”

You glanced at him.

“Stay longer.”

You met his gaze. “How long?”

Law let out a slow breath.

“As long as it takes to make you believe I still love you.”

You laughed through your tears. “So… forever?”

He nodded once, solemn.

“Forever’s fine.”

The next morning, Beppo walked in with breakfast and paused at the doorway.

Law was asleep again, but you were curled up in the chair beside him, forehead resting against the edge of the bed, fingers still entwined with his.

He smiled softly to himself and closed the door without a word.

[princessfbi]

I love your stories and the excellent Buck wh you write! One area in the show I wish had given us some more post-event whump is the lightning strike. It was great, but I just wish it had come with a little more consequence after the fact. I know the show is never exactly realistic with injury recovery, but a lightning injury in particular is just ripe for some subsequent, lingering, unexplainable medical drama!

So my question is, if you could go back and write some more lightning repercussion storyline into that 6b arc or have the writers integrate something in the future, what would you want it to be?

OHHHHHHHHHH

First of all, thank you!!!

If I could go back and write more repercussions..... MHMMMMM.... I think I would want to see some of the early moments after Buck was starting to be more coherent after the coma. So like the pestering nurses trying to wake him up. The inability to move with all the wires to go to the bathroom. Just that like achy, disoriented repercussions of being in a coma and on a ventilator for an extended period of time. Give me Maddie and Bobby and Hen and Chim and Eddie just doing that quiet, patient voices as they help Buck with the simplest of tasks.

GODDDD!!! You're going to make me want to go watch the lightning arc again.

[shirefantasies]

You Underestimate Me- Fili x F!Human!Reader

EVERYBODY LIVES AU!!! Warnings: canon typical violence and peril, descriptions of pain/blood/wounds, one suggestive comment

“Fili, stop it!”

The dwarf in question was chasing you through the stream, forcing you to run as fast as you could through the splashing water, which wasn’t much at all considering the resistance.

“Make me.”

One look at his smug face was all the convincing you needed to come to an abrupt stop, extending one leg out and bracing yourself to endure the inevitable strike, the brief pain of Fili barreling into you well worth the splash he made. Spinning on your heels, you joined Kili and Dwalin’s roar of laughter proudly, smiling and giving a little wave to Fili as he rose, dripping.

“Your clothes needed a wash, too,” you remark as he first glared, then shook his head and burst into laughter of his own, “I distinctly remember you saying so.”

Fee’d come back with some sort of revenge, you knew. Even if you didn’t know him so well as you thought and hoped, the look of rivalry-toned respect, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, told it all to you as you strode back to the muddy bank.

“Mark my words,” Fili spoke your name as though it were a vicious utterance, but either a smile upon his face, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I would pick you up and toss you into the river myself!”

“I’m too big,” you shot back, “You couldn’t even lift me.”

“You underestimate me,” Fili replied to that, striding with great long leather-booted steps right up to your side, "I'm stronger than I look, you know."

"I will believe that when I see it."

"Someday you will," he said simply, joining you at the bank with water rushing from his long golden hair as he shook it out, "Mark my words, I will raise you above my head in triumph!"

At that, you just kicked one more little splash of bank at him and scurried off toward camp, ducking and hiding between Dwalin and Balin lest Fili seek his retaliation then and there.

At dinnertime, the slightest hint of mischief glinted in Fili's eyes, but it was only made manifest in the way his knee darted out, nudging yours and sending you laughing and holding up your bowl.

"Oi! Watch the stew!"

"What was that?" Fili smiled innocently and cupped a hand around his ear, nudging you one more time. "I think I've still got water in my ears. Can’t imagine how that happened."

~

Shattering, cracking bones and crashing steel almost drowned out the blood pounding in your ears as you darted between blades. Cried out names in search of any fragments of familiarity amidst it all. Not a sight of your friends brightened the bleak, black-and-red-painted horizon for what felt like minutes on end. An orc's falling body nearly toppled you over, but your voice was too exhausted to scream.

Panting, you beat the battlefield harshly, pounding it again and again with the soles of your boots. The weight of your black blood-spattered daggers slowed the swing of your arms as you ran, stitches in your sides stinging harshly, but stasis was afforded by no one in such violent bedlam. A blade was flung mere feet from you, and only upon turning to follow its trajectory did you see your attacker.

Scimitar raised and swung, the orc looked down upon you with a sadistic sneer as he slashed you across the side. Gasping, you tumbled back from the sheer force, let alone the burning arc of steel penetrating flesh and the warm trickle of blood spattering and spreading across your body with the impact of your fall. Lightning pain arced up and down your torso and you cried out, barely able to roll away from the next strike. Before the killing blow could fall, though, an arrow struck your assailant through the eye, knocking him right down to your side.

Spots danced in your vision as you heaved there, panic overtaking you. Dirt barely gave way beneath your scrabbling fingers as you forced yourself to attempt crawling forward. Just as the spots began winning, however, a pair of hands darted into your vision and your wound burned when they made brief contact with it. Your last sight before the dark enclosed you was that of Fili pulling you up, hoisting you on his shoulders. Briefly his face, his tear-streaked face, glistening blue eyes, and sad smile passed before you and then you faded away…

“I’m not losing you. I’m not.”

~

It felt like mere seconds later that you jolted awake again, gasping for breath at the shock of pain the motion brought you. Before your hung head was a blanket. Your legs beneath it. You’d been bandaged and lain in a cot. Breath barely came to you and stars danced once more in your vision. Hastily tapping footsteps ran your way and a hand gripped yours.

“Lie down.” Fili.

You spoke his name. He gently but firmly pushed you back onto the bed. Carefully manipulated you by your hands so as not to touch your bleeding side.

“Lie back down,” he repeated, “You’re hurt.”

“We survived,” you panted, giving a weak smile, “You saved me.”

“I told you,” he replied, whispering your name, “I would raise you above my head one day. I kept my promise. You saw.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, “My vision was a little spotty. How can I be sure it was you who picked me up?”

“You underestimate me.” He shook his head and tutted in mock disappointment. “If you wish, I’ll do it again once we’re not so battered.”

“And risk dropping me?”

“Only if we’re standing over a lake.”

Your smile grew. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Not as long as we’re growing old. I’ll always remind you.”

Even in its frail state, your heart leapt at his words, beating harder and deepening your haze. Lips parting, you gaped at Fili, who only smiled harder, squeezing your hand.

“If, that is, you’ll have me. I don’t mean to force the responsibility on you, I’m just… so relieved you made it. Didn’t know what I would do if I lost you before I could tell you how much I love you. You can blame the blood loss on how it came out.”

Shaking your head, you let out a small, breathy laugh. “Responsibility? What responsibility? Babysitting my best friend every day? A small price to pay for a courting bead from the dwarf I love.”

“Any price I could pay for you is small,” Fili added, the hand that wasn’t holding yours reaching up to trace the back of it along the curve of your face.

“Even getting tripped and knocked on your face?”

“Well remember, anytime you do that I get to get you back.”

“And what punishment do you have in mind for me,” you grinned even as your eyelids fluttered weakly, “Hm?”

“Don’t worry,” Fili reassured you with a fond look, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll hoist you triumphantly and throw you in plenty of lakes once you rest up.”

“You have a deal,” you replied, allowing Fili’s hand to rotate, pulling you in and caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb as he brought his lips to yours.

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[throughthelabrynth]

The thing about the rain is that yes, they've been setting up crazy symbolism and parallels since the start of s7. Obviously the sun is a huge motif for them, along with the Abby/Buck walking away parallel.

BUT the one that has been eating at me all day is The Rain: yes its a romcom icon for sure. But the rain is a symbol of major moments of buddie literally being separated, ie the fact that they are literally separated by 40 ft of mud during the well scene, and when they are separated by life and death in the lightning strike scene. We are getting that again because Eddie is choosing to leave. He's not leaving Buck, he's going to Chris, but physically he is walking away from Buck, who is the poster boy for abandonment issues. So it’s not just space that has separated them, it’s also Chris (one of the fundamental things that brought them together in the first place, more on that later) and their own actions.

One of the big things in the well and lightning arcs is that they have to fight to live. Eddie has to make the decision to fight for his family. To fight to come home to Buck and Christopher. And the same is true of the lightning arc. Buck makes the decision to fight to live. To escape from the coma dream. To come back to the real world. I think we will see this again with both of them. Eddie has to fight to bring Chris home and to come back to Buck. I think Buck is going to have to fight for Eddie and Chris too.

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: Light of Mine

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

It had been hours of relentless combat. Y/n was close to burning out—her muscles screamed, her vision blurred, and yet the venin just kept coming. Wyverns tore through the skies like shadows with teeth.

There had been a time when everyone believed only Violet could kill venin after the events at Resson. But that changed during one particularly risky patrol—when Y/n’s light had sliced through a venin cleanly in two. Since then, she and Violet had fought side by side, developing a deadly rhythm. Lightning and sunshine.

Violet struck with fury from above, riding Tairn as if he were forged from storm itself. Y/n followed her lead, cutting down the dazed creatures with crescent-moon arcs of golden light, sharp as blades and gleaming like the sun at dawn.

Y/n’s whole body was trembling. Her fingertips burned like live coals, and her veins pulsed with searing energy. Sweat poured down her temples. Just a little more.

To her left, Violet shouted from atop Tairn, voice ragged with urgency, “Two more! Take them down, and the rest of the wyverns fall with them. We need an opening!”

Y/n met her eyes and nodded grimly. She knew what Violet was asking.

“Come on, girl,” she murmured to Tiamat, her sweet and loyal companion, “One last show.”

Tiamat launched upward, slicing through the air like an arrow loosed from the heavens. The higher they climbed, the harder it was to hold on. Y/n’s legs strained with the angle, her body screaming in protest. But finally, they reached the altitude she needed—the apex of power.

Eyes shut, she summoned calm. Her mind drifted to the tide pools of Ceaelyn—home, peace, stillness. She let go.

The light answered.

It surged through her like a flood breaking a dam. She raised her arms, summoning the brilliance into a pulsing sphere between her hands. It burned, but she held firm, circling her arms to contain it until it was ready.

Then—she snapped her wrists outward.

The sphere exploded into the air.

A supernova of gold erupted, blinding the battlefield below. Even the sun dimmed in comparison.

Violet, prepared for the blast, seized the moment. With a scream of fury, she hurled a bolt of lightning straight into one of the venin generals, her body crackling with raw energy.

At the same time, Y/n gathered a final arc of golden light, her arm trembling as she pulled it back like a bowstring—then let it fly. It sliced through the air like a divine judgment, striking the second general with precision.

Silver and gold clashed in the sky like gods at war.

The remaining wyverns shrieked—then dropped from the air, lifeless.

Silence fell.

For the first time in hours, nothing moved.

Hovering in the stillness, Y/n and Violet looked at each other across the battlefield.

Tears streamed down their soot-streaked faces. Their chests heaved. They smiled.

They had won.

The battle had finally ended. The air was heavy with the weight of the victory and the lingering tension of what they had all just survived. The battlefield, once a terrifying place of chaos and bloodshed, now felt eerily still, save for the sounds of victorious shouts and the slow creaking of broken armor. The venin were finally defeated, and for the first time in years, it felt like the world could breathe again.

Xaden stood in the midst of it all, his body covered in grime, dirt, and blood. His chest heaved with exhaustion, but his heart was pounding with an emotion that he couldn’t quite contain. He scanned the field, eyes searching, until they landed on her.

Y/n.

She was standing near Violet, her face streaked with dirt but still glowing with something fierce and beautiful. The moment their eyes met, Xaden didn’t think—he just ran to her. His legs carried him over the battlefield with a force and speed he didn’t know he had left, all the way to her. He couldn’t stop himself; he needed her in that moment, needed to feel her alive, needed to feel the warmth of her presence after everything they had just been through.

When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, and their lips met in a desperate, fervent kiss, not caring about the blood or grime that coated their skin. It was a kiss filled with relief, with all the fear they had buried, and all the love they had been fighting for. They were alive. They had made it through. And now, they could finally breathe without the looming threat of war hanging over them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and laughing through their exhaustion, Y/n’s eyes were shining with tears. “We made it,” she whispered, her hand still gripping his like a lifeline. “We’re alive.”

Xaden smiled, his face soft with emotion. “We’re alive,” he echoed. His fingers brushed her cheek, almost as if to remind himself that she was there, real and warm in his arms. “And we’re going to live.”

Her gaze searched for her twin, Ridoc, and when she spotted him, she rushed over to him. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, her body shaking with the release of the tension she had been holding. They had both made it. Their home, their family, still stood.

And then, one by one, her squad joined them. Rhiannon, Violet, and Sawyer appeared, grinning, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off their shoulders. Y/n pulled them into a group hug, laughing and crying at the same time. They had all made it. They had survived.

Xaden looked over to where Bodhi was, and without a word, he ran to him, pulling his cousin into a fierce hug. He felt the same overwhelming relief in Bodhi’s embrace—the war was over, and they had both made it through. Garrick, Imogen, and Quinn were next, and they all shared a moment of joyous release as they gripped each other, all of them alive.

Xaden looked back at Y/n as they all huddled together, their squad now a tightly woven family. Her eyes were shining, her smile wide and full of joy. She was so much more than the woman he had first met—so much stronger, so much braver, and now she was here with him. They had made it, and nothing would ever take that away.

As the noise of celebration and victory began to spread through the field, Ridoc, ever the energetic, yelled, “Let’s get this wedding season started!” And in that instant, everyone erupted into laughter. It was a moment of pure, unbridled joy—a reminder that even after everything they had been through, they still had something to look forward to.

Xaden pulled Y/n close once more, a grin spreading across his face. “You hear that?” he said, his voice low, teasing. “Wedding season.”

She laughed, her arms wrapped around his neck. “It’s about time.”

And as they all stood together, surrounded by their squad, their family, and the remnants of a war-torn world, they knew that this was only the beginning.

Moments during preparations...

Just a few sweet moments The table was covered—towers of tiny cakes, delicate tarts, and rows of cupcakes in every flavor imaginable. Rhiannon was already halfway through a lemon tart when she groaned in delight. “This one. This has to be one of the layers.” Ridoc, licking frosting from his thumb, shook his head. “Absolutely not. The chocolate hazelnut one is divine. If that’s not in the wedding, I’m boycotting.” Bodhi leaned back, grinning. “I say have five layers.” Y/n laughed, brushing a crumb from Xaden’s lip. “You all realize it’s our wedding, right?” Xaden, surprisingly serious, turned to her. “Let them squabble. I already have what I want.” Everyone groaned and pretended to gag as Y/n blushed and kissed his cheek anyway.

It started small—a letter from the florist in Ceaelyn offering blooms from their garden. Then a baker from the coast of Navarre sent a message with sea-salt caramel favors as a wedding gift. Soon, they received dozens of letters from both towns: offers to decorate the courtyard, to weave silk ribbons for the tables, to carve centerpieces from driftwood. In Tryrrendor, tailors offered to alter gowns, and the women who had once kissed Y/n’s cheeks in admiration now sent bolts of fabric for the celebration. The wedding was no longer just theirs. It had become a celebration for everyone they had helped keep alive.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, parchment scattered around her and ink stains on her fingers. “Do we send one to that grumpy fishmonger in the Ceaelyn market?” she asked, pen poised. Xaden, lounging behind her, said without hesitation, “He once gave you a free trout. That earns an invite.” She grinned, elbowing him gently. “You’re soft.” “Only for you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. Their stack of invitations grew steadily—each one sealed with their crest and a pressed flower, sent to two villages that once stood worlds apart and were now, somehow, one.

The sun had long set, and they were both stretched out in bed, her head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked softly. Y/n nodded, then whispered, “I’m happy. Overwhelmed. But happy.” He turned slightly so he could look at her, brushing her curls back. “We could run away. Skip the big wedding. Just you, me, the ocean.” She smiled. “I want the chaos. I want the cake tasting and the dancing and your squad being dramatic. I want my people there.” “You want the life we’ve built.” She kissed his chest gently. “Exactly.”

The Morning Of The sunlight poured in gently through the sheer curtains, painting the room in hues of soft gold. Y/n stirred first, her hand still draped across Xaden’s chest, their legs tangled beneath the light covers. The scent of salt, pineapples, and warmth clung to her skin—and he was utterly intoxicated by it.

Xaden cracked one eye open as she shifted, brushing her lips lazily against his shoulder. “Morning,” she whispered sleepily, voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning, wife,” he murmured with a grin, still half-asleep, refusing to open his other eye.

She snorted. “Not yet.”

“Technicality,” he said, rolling to tuck her closer. “I’m not letting you go today. They’ll have to pry you from my arms.”

As if summoned by prophecy, there was a rapid knock on the door.

“Y/n!” Rhiannon’s voice came, muffled through the wood. “Don’t make us come in there, we will drag you out if we have to!”

“She’s mine until the bells ring,” Xaden growled lowly, tightening his hold.

Y/n giggled. “They’ll riot if I’m late.”

“Let them. You’re worth the wait.”

Another knock. “Y/n! We brought the juice you like and the rolls from the market! Get up!”

Groaning, Xaden threw his head back dramatically. “Traitors. I fed them. I protected them. And now they’re stealing you away on our wedding day.”

Y/n kissed his cheek before sitting up, the sheet falling to reveal the faint marks of his fingertips on her hips. “You’ll survive.”

“Doubtful,” he muttered, but he sat up, trailing his fingers down her spine one last time before she stood. “You’re going to be the most radiant bride the world’s ever seen.”

She turned at the door, silhouetted by morning light, eyes soft. “And you’ll be waiting at the altar, yeah?”

He smirked. “Try and keep me away.”

The door opened, and Rhiannon and Violet squealed, pulling her into a flurry of silk robes, scented oils, and laughter. Xaden groaned again as the door closed behind them, collapsing back into the bed, a grin tugging at his lips.

“We’re getting married,” he whispered to no one, hands covering his face in disbelief and joy. “She’s going to be my wife.”

And stars, if the day wasn’t already perfect.

The Bride The room smelled of wildflowers and sun-warmed citrus. Rhiannon was the first to speak as Y/n stepped out from behind the privacy screen, holding the sides of her shimmering gown, breath caught somewhere between joy and disbelief.

Her wedding dress was stunning—an elegant basque waist gown with a skirt that cascaded like liquid starlight, catching the morning sun in silver and gold. The bodice hugged her softly, the neckline graced with delicate embroidery that echoed the Tyrrish runes and coastal waves from her village.

Her dark curls had been pinned in an intricate updo laced with delicate blossoms—Tyrrish gold violets, pearls from her coastal home, and small white blooms from Ceaelyn. A few tendrils of hair curled naturally around her cheeks and nape, softening the look with a touch of wild grace. Her bouquet mirrored her hair—woven with the same flora, hand-tied with a ribbon that shimmered like her gown.

Violet put a hand to her chest. “Oh stars… Y/n.”

Rhiannon audibly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You look like something out of a legend.”

Even Imogen, who was rarely sentimental, blinked rapidly. “You’re radiant. Xaden is going to collapse.”

Sawyer, standing in the corner in charge of snacks and moral support, wiped an invisible tear. “This is an unsafe level of beauty. He might actually fall to his knees.”

Y/n, cheeks warm with emotion, turned to the mirror. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the woman staring back. Not because she didn’t see herself—but because she saw all of herself. The warrior. The twin. The lover. The duchess. The girl from the coast. The woman who had survived war and still dared to wear flowers in her hair.

“I feel like... all of me is here,” she whispered.

Violet moved to her side and took her hand. “That’s because you are. And Xaden? He’s going to see every part of you—and love you more.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered, and Rhiannon gently squeezed her shoulders. “Come on. It’s time to go become a wife.”

They all erupted into nervous, tearful laughter, gathering around her like a halo of joy and strength.

And somewhere outside, just beyond the horizon of the estate, church bells rang once—soft and full of promise.

The Twin Who Loved Her First

Ridoc had always thought he was prepared. He had faced dragons, fought venin, watched his friends nearly die and lived to joke about it. But nothing—not even years of growing up with Y/n Gamlyn—could’ve prepared him for the moment he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, radiant in a gown that shimmered like moonlight on waves.

His breath caught. His whole body went still.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes wide, chest swelling. “You’re beautiful.”

Y/n smiled, soft and bashful, her eyes already glassy with emotion. “Don’t cry, Ric,” she warned gently, voice teasing but tight with her own emotions.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he muttered, even as he wiped his eyes without shame. He stepped forward slowly, gaze sweeping over her—her flowers, her hair, the glint of Ceaelyn and Tyrrish woven into her very presence. But most of all, it was her smile, soft and steady, that made his heart ache.

He took her hands in his and looked at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time and all at once. “You’re everything, Y/n. The same girl who used to steal my boots and skip rocks with me at the coast. And now? Now you’re this—this light.”

Y/n blinked, the weight of the day pressing on her chest in the most beautiful way.

Ridoc grinned through his emotion, mischief returning to his tone. “You’re going to break Xaden Riorson with one look. He’s doomed.”

She laughed then, and he squeezed her hand.

“You ready, twin?” he asked quietly, as the music began to drift from outside.

She nodded, eyes shining. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good,” he said, looping her arm through his. “Let’s go show the world what royalty really looks like.”

And with that, Ridoc straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin with pride, and walked side by side with his sister—the girl he loved first, the one who’d always been his anchor—down the aisle and into the rest of her life.

The Moment He Saw Her

The world was loud.

Chatter, music, the fluttering of banners, the weight of celebration pressing into the air after too many years of war. Xaden stood tall at the altar, heart hammering harder than it had in any battle, every breath a struggle as the world seemed to narrow into one singular moment.

And then—

The music shifted.

Heads turned.

And when Xaden looked up, everything else fell away.

There she was.

Y/n stood at the end of the aisle, her arm looped through Ridoc’s, her gown shimmering like starlight caught on the sea. Her hair was pinned with Tyrrish and Ceaelyn flowers, her bouquet matching the blooms in her hair. She was radiant—no, ethereal. A dream made real. The girl who had once marched into his life all fire and heart… now his soon-to-be wife.

He exhaled sharply, overcome, his vision blurring.

Garrick elbowed him gently and whispered with a smirk, “Breathe, Riorson.”

But Xaden couldn’t move.

Not until she smiled at him.

That soft, private, world-splitting smile.

His knees nearly buckled. His heart cracked wide open and something entirely unguarded broke across his face. A grin, helpless and reverent. He didn’t even try to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.

He had faced death, betrayal, fire, and shadows.

But this?

This was everything.

As Y/n got closer, Ridoc shot him a mock glare, but even he was misty-eyed. When they reached the altar, Ridoc placed her hand in Xaden’s, his touch lingering for a moment—like he was passing off something sacred.

And in a way, he was.

Xaden looked at Y/n.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he breathed, voice rough. “You’re… I don’t even have words.”

Y/n laughed softly, blinking back her own tears. “Good. Because we’ve got vows coming up, and you better save some.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll give you everything.”

The vows...

She turns to him, voice steady but laced with emotion, her hand in his.

"Xaden Riorson…"

"When I met you, you were shadow and command. Dangerous. Distant. Impossible to ignore. I thought you were everything I should stay away from. But every glance, every challenge, every word you didn’t say pulled me in. You taught me how to stand in the dark without losing who I am. You saw the parts of me I didn’t even know I was allowed to love."

"We’ve fought beside each other, bled for what we believe in. And even when everything around us burned, you were the hand I held steady. I vow to be your home, your heart, your peace after war. I vow to challenge you, to laugh with you, to lead beside you—not because of your title, but because I love the man behind it."

"You are my best friend. My love. My future. And I vow to choose you—every day, in every life."

She squeezes his hand gently, blinking through the tears.

Xaden’s Vows

He looks at her like she’s the sun finally breaking through years of storm.

"Y/n Gamlyn…"

"I didn’t know I could believe in softness again until you. I’ve led armies, faced death, carried the weight of a rebellion—but none of it compares to the way my heart breaks and rebuilds every time you smile at me."

"You are fire and silk, storm and stillness, warmth and sweetness. You are every reason I have to believe in something more than survival. I used to think love was a distraction. But you showed me it’s a strength. The fiercest kind."

"I vow to protect you—not because you need it, but because you’re everything worth fighting for. I vow to meet you in every shadow and stay until the light returns. I vow to honor you, follow you, and lead with you. Always."

"You are my family. My home. My future. And I will spend the rest of my days proving myself worthy of being yours."

The crowd is silent for a hearbeat

Then a sob. A quiet laugh.

The world stills.

The vows hang in the air like magic—like a breath no one dares to exhale.

Then the officiant smiles, eyes misty. "By the strength of your words and the depth of your love, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"You may kiss—"

But Xaden doesn’t wait.

He steps forward, eyes locked on hers like she’s gravity and sky all at once, and cradles her face in his hands. Y/n’s breath catches, lips parting in a stunned, overwhelmed smile, and then—

Then he kisses her.

It’s not rushed. It’s reverent.

Like he’s memorizing the shape of forever on her mouth.

One hand tangles gently in her hair, the other pressed to her waist as if anchoring himself to this moment—because they’re no longer fighting to survive, they’ve won. And this—she—is his reward.

Y/n melts into him, arms sliding around his neck, kissing him back with the same softness, the same passion, the same fire that’s always lived between them.

Cheers rise behind them—whistles, hoots, applause, a choked “Finally!” from Ridoc somewhere—but all either of them can feel is the heartbeat beneath the other’s skin.

When they part, breathless and smiling like fools, Xaden presses his forehead to hers.

"Wife," he murmurs, dazed and in love.

And she laughs, radiant. "Husband."

The lights dim softly, casting a golden glow across the reception hall where candlelight flickers and soft music begins to play. There’s a hush of anticipation, a warmth that crackles with love and joy.

Xaden steps forward, hand extended. “May I have this dance, wife?”

Y/n laughs, cheeks flushed. “Always.”

He twirls her gently onto the dance floor, his hand steady at her back, her fingers laced with his. Her gown sparkles with every step, the Tyrrish and Ceaelyn flowers in her hair catching the light like tiny stars.

They move as if the world were made for this moment—slow, deliberate, perfectly in sync. The war, the loss, the pain—they’ve survived it all. And now, they get this. This one small eternity in each other’s arms.

Xaden whispers something that makes Y/n laugh through tears, and she tucks her face into his chest, heart full.

The crowd watches, some in awe, many with wet eyes, as the two leaders of light and shadow find their rhythm not on a battlefield, but in love.

The celebration roared with joy—music pulsed through the air, laughter echoed, and the scent of roasted fruit and warm pastries filled the evening. Lights twinkled like stars across the courtyard, where villagers, Tyrrish friends, Riders,Flyers and even dignitaries danced in wild abandon.

But Y/n and Xaden had slipped away.

She pulled him by the hand through an arched hallway lit with lanterns, down a quiet corridor of ivy and stone. Her veil had been long since discarded, and a flower had fallen loose from her hair, now tucked behind her ear. He followed without question, his jacket slightly undone, his tie hanging loose.

They found a quiet balcony—just high enough to see the dancing crowd from above, just far enough to be alone. The wind rustled her gown and carried the ocean’s salt in its breath.

Xaden leaned against the stone rail, his dark eyes tracing every shimmer of her silhouette.

“You look… ethereal,” he murmured, voice like velvet and thunder. “Like a wish I didn’t dare make.”

Y/n laughed softly, walking into his arms. “You,” she whispered, smoothing a hand over his chest, “look absolutely dashing. My grandmother would’ve fainted if she saw you.”

“Your grandmother would've approved of me?” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“She’d have loved you. Especially after seeing how you looked at me during the vows.”

He kissed her temple, holding her close. For a moment, it was just the sound of waves, of muffled celebration, of hearts beating in rhythm.

Then—

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!” Ridoc’s voice rang out from the courtyard below, dramatic and far too loud. “THE PARTY IS HERE, NOT IN YOUR MOONLIT BALCONY!”

Rhiannon’s voice joined in, “Save the swooning for the honeymoon!”

Xaden groaned into her shoulder. Y/n tipped her head back and laughed, the kind of laugh that bubbled up from her chest and made him fall even more in love.

They looked at each other, still caught in their own quiet universe.

“Shall we return to our adoring public, husband?” she grinned.

“Only because you asked, wife.”

Hand in hand, they walked back into the light.

First morning of forever...

The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of their chamber, casting golden light over tangled sheets and soft skin. The room still smelled faintly of flowers, candles, and laughter from the night before. Everything had quieted. The world, for once, felt still.

Y/n stirred first, stretching slowly beneath the weight of the blanket and a strong arm draped possessively around her waist. Her curls were loose and soft from the pins she’d removed hours ago, and her cheek was pressed against Xaden’s bare chest.

He was already awake.

And staring at her.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

His thumb gently traced the curve of her waist where the sheets dipped, and when she blinked up at him, sleepy and golden in the morning light, Xaden let out a breathless, reverent laugh.

“What?” she asked, voice still husky from sleep.

“You’re my wife,” he whispered, almost like he was trying to make sure it wasn’t a dream. “You’re my wife.”

He leaned in immediately, kissing her temple.

Then her cheek.

Then her nose.

Then her collarbone.

Then her shoulder.

“Xaden—” she laughed, breathless now as he continued—“what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said, nuzzling her neck before trailing kisses down her arm. “Making sure every inch of you knows you’re loved.”

Her heart swelled.

He kissed her knuckles next, then the top of her hand, then the curve of her jaw.

“Xaden,” she murmured, cupping his face as he hovered over her, “I think I’m going to fall in love with you all over again if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Good,” he said, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “As it should be.”

She pulled him down to her in a slow, lazy kiss—one that tasted like love, like sunlight, like forever.

And in that golden, quiet morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, the Duke and Duchess of Tyrrendor began the rest of their lives—with laughter, soft kisses, and the kind of love that felt like home.

Author's note: Ugh I love a good wedding chapter (says the one that is scared of commitment lmao)

Taglist:

@eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @profoundpizzasong @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2

[janmisali]

Super Mario Bracket: LUIGI vs MR. L

"I'm-a Luigi! Number-a one!"

Luigi

SEED: 2 (104 nominations)

PREVIOUS OPPONENT: Koops

SPECIES: Human

DEBUT: Mario Bros. (Game & Watch)

NOMINATION EXAMPLE: he’s just kinda goofy but also relatable. I enjoy witnessing his personality and playing as him in other Mario games (regardless of if he plays the same as Mario or not) feels like a nice change of pace. plus, it’s super satisfying to root for the underdog and see him surpass his more prominent bro in some cases. he’s pretty chill. I would be friends with him.

[Super Mario Wiki article]

"The Green Thunder strikes like lightning!"

Mr. L

SEED: 31 (21 nominations)

PREVIOUS OPPONENT: Twink

SEPCIES: Human

DEBUT: Super Paper Mario

NOMINATION EXAMPLE: He’s a funny guy. We don’t know a lot about him, e.g. his true identity, his relationships with other characters, or why he only appears when Luigi is missing, but for what we do know about him, he is a daring, charming hunk of a man. His character arc becoming intertwined with becoming the final boss is such a strong twist especially since he only appears midway, and refines TTYD’s method of a fake-out final boss since this one is more subtle.

[Super Mario Wiki article]

[link to all polls]