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[wakacreations]

Zevlor's Bizarre Cocoa Adventure (Ch. 1)

@falcatamandarina Here's a little treat for you. <3

Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

Word Count: 1610

Summary:

Tav gifted Zevlor a box of chocolates. The last of the chocolates were eaten and the last chocolate review was sent. Now, how will Zevlor return his thanks? With a box of chocolates of course!

“That is the last of the letters” as Zevlor neatly folded and sealed the letter. When he took upon the task of being Tav’s chocolate reviewer, the thought never occurred that his eating habits would lead to such affairs. “I’ll have to thank Tilses for divulging such information.” Zevlor thought as he leaned back in his chair. A whole month worth of letters in exchange for a box of thirty chocolates. Each review slowly came attached with a memory of his youth. At some point he wrote, 

“You know, Tav the white chocolate orange reminds me of the orange sherbet of Elturel. Maybe it is the sweltering weather of Baldur’s Gate and the taste of orange on my tongue. This is a Hellriders’ secret but we secretly took shifts to watch for our superiors and snuck off to go purchase some. I was always the lookout, of course best believe we needed one person that had absolute deniability. I had grown used to the rough punishment of our superiors but what was another verbal lashing and physical torment to a Hellrider? If you ever come across some orange sherbet on your journey, do give it a try. It is quite refreshing and perfect for such a warm day.”

He himself often questioned if his letters were long winded ramblings of an old man. Maybe Tav would get bored of his mundane updates into his life he lives now in Baldur’s Gate. It would be different if he were still a hellrider. A man of valor, of duty and purpose. He had spent his life more outside the city’s borders on patrol than within its walls as he climbed their ranks. He was out and about settling skirmishes at the borders with monsters. In his later years, slaying hordes of undead that besieged his people and home. Then the fall occurred then everything… Tav surely understands his yearning for a peaceful existence but as an adventurer at heart as they were, would grow tired of such a life in contrast.

Zevlor stared up longingly at the ceiling, their tail swishing idly sweeping at the floor. Even if that is the case, their correspondence proves one thing… they will return to Baldur’s Gate. “Now, what shall I give back to them in return? I suppose if one gives chocolates, they would expect some in return.” as he stretched his legs. “They can’t be no ordinary chocolates. Maybe truffle perhaps. Such an old sentimental fool his old Hellriders would have jabbed at him.” A warm chuckle escaped him. His hands resting on his thighs as he raised out of his chair, his knees gave a slick crack. “Old, old indeed.” Zevlor sighed.

The shopping venture in Baldur’s Gate proved unfruitful. To his surprise, even the upper districts came up empty handed. Maybe it is due to the upper classes having such sweets directly shipped to their homes instead of visitings shops. Unlikely but the fact of the matter is there are no chocolates to be had or of any kinds. He did hear about some issues of goods traversing from the Underdark. Something about caravans being attacked more frequently. Though, that was just the nature of working in the Underdark. In any case, he found himself at the entrance of Sorcerous Sundries. While Rolan and himself shared few conversations during their travels from Elturel to Emerald Grove, they often found themselves awake at the same hours keeping watch over the others.

There be no need for conversation between the two of them. A simple nod of acknowledgement was enough words. “You are up with your own thoughts as well? The same as always, my friend. I’ll be here should you need anything.” The same silent conversation they held every night. Rolan kept up with his wizardry studies late till dawn. Zevlor meticulously checked the perimeter of the grove. He took note of any need for further fortifications and supplies for the next coming days. “It may be due for him to have some different reading material.” Zevlor thought as he peered at Rolan clutching a tattered spellbook, Evocations: The Basics of Elemental Spellcasting.

“I do not know how useful these books would be towards your studies but it is some new reading material regardless.” as he handed Rolan the small stack. “This is what I found during my patrol. If I come across any spell scrolls you’ll be the first to hear of them.” The younger tiefling stared wide-eyed as a smile slowly crossed their face. “Should you need anything, you know where to find me” Zevlor turned back towards the front gate. He was halfway towards the gate before, “Parchment, if you can find some.” called Rolan. “Thank you, Zevlor!” With a wave of goodbye, Zevlor returns to patrol once more.

There is a sort of pride to be had when you see your own flourishing. The young wizard, now the Master of Ramazith Tower. Lia, the up-and-coming sharpshooter of the flaming fist was working the desk. Cal, running an orphanage at Lakrissa’s and Alfira’s Bard school was scurrying around restocking shelves. To think just a moment before they were all huddled together near a campfire. “Zevlor! What brings you in? Up for another round against the flaming fist recruits? They have been very adamant this time they can best you” Lia grinned at the paladin. “Maybe some other time, Lia. Is Rolan in perchance?” The older tiefling scanned the many faces moving through the shop. “Oh, he’s in his study. I can go grab him if you need.” Cal said while moving boxes of scrolls. “That won’t be necessary, Cal but thank you.” Zevlor made his way up the tower’s staircase. “What do you think he’s really here for?” Cal glanced at his sister. “Knowing Zevlor… If it’s not working with the fist or helping with the shop, then there is a chocolate shortage.” Lia let out a yawn.

The Master of Ramazith Tower was busy penning down his findings. His time at the grove proved fruitful as a perfect environment for experimentation. There were wide open spaces where Rolan could perform spells and need not worry for whatever destruction was made. Colour Spray was the first spell he ever perfected be it in Avernus of all places. To Cal's insistence, he was able to change the color to blue. Rolan grimaced at the thought of the accidental fires it sparked in doing so and the scoldings from Lia at the grove. The second spell he perfected was Thunderwave after goblins attacks became more frequent. He later perfected Magic Missile and Mage Armour thanks to the materials Zevlor procured for him. Though he himself questioned if Zevlor knew when he gave him A Pleasurable Deal, the contents of the book. He gave him the benefit of the doubt, he probably didn’t. Rolan immediately tossed the book after skimming through. He did not say a word when he saw the book at Dammon’s tent and later his new workshop. “How was the Hellrider doing?” he thought as he continued to write. A knock at the door. 

“You may enter. I am surprised you finally used some manners, Cal.” said the wizard not looking up from his writing. “Those long nights studying at the grove were worth it wouldn’t you say?” The wizard paused his quill ears perking up. “I am glad to see you are doing quite well for yourself. Do you prefer to be called Master Rolan or are we still on a first name basis?” as the Hellrider wandered to the shelves of the study. “First names as always, Zevlor. It is not often you come into the study.” Rolan watched the older tiefling skim the bindings of the books. He plucked a book off the shelves. “I remember you always had this book (Evocations: The Basics of Elemental Spellcasting) on hand. I am surprised it made it all the way to Baldur’s Gate. I can have it mended, you know.” Zevlor took his seat in front of Rolan. He carefully examined the tattered book.

“A kind gesture but that won’t be necessary. What is it you need, old friend?” Rolan took a sip of his tea. “Please, what’s mine is yours. If there is anything you need I can secure it for you.” The paladin let out a sigh. “As you know there seems to be a shortage of chocolate in Baldur’s Gate.” Rolan chuckled into his cup. “There seems to be so indeed. If anything I would have assumed you were the cause, Zevlor.” A flush began to creep up their face, tail irritatedly flicked about. “Worry not, I have already looked into the matter. I have a colleague from the Society of Brilliance that will have you sorted. Seek for someone named Blurg or Omeluum.” Rolan sat down his tea and began scribbling down the address.

“Though, do spare me a crate if you could kindly. The children under Cal’s care are expecting some pastries from me.” He handed him the note. “If you need anything else do let I, Cal or Lia know. It’s the least we could do for what you’ve done for us.” Rolan gave a warm smile. “Thank you, Rolan and I’ll see to it that the children are not disappointed then.” Zevlor rose out of his chair, and sat down Rolan’s book on the desk. The wizard waved the man off as he closed the door behind him. As he left the entrance of Sorcerous Sundries he heard, “Bye Grandad!” from Cal and “Make sure you come to training next time, ya!” called Lia over his shoulder. He made his way to the Society of Brilliance.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Elriel Month Week 3. “Summer Peonies”

Elain shed the pale blue cloak she had draped across her shoulders, untying the knot from around her neck, as a bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The warm afternoon sun beat down on her, as it often did in the middle of spring, when crisp mornings made way for balmy afternoons. She had been working in the sprawling gardens of the River manor for the larger part of the clear sunny day, but she wasn’t close to being done just yet.

Elain sat with her legs folded beneath her on the soft grass before one of the new garden beds she had been digging out earlier that morning. She had spent the better part of the last hour turning in fertilizer to enrich the soil, readying the earth for her peonies.

She was finally relocating the budding shrubs from the greenhouse, where she had been nursing them for close to two years now. They would be perfect by mid-summer; when they were needed. She smiled a little smile at the thought, and at how that vision had come to her all those years ago. It seemed being a Seer had its advantages after all…

As Elain mopped her brow with the back of her hand, surely smearing soil in its place, she longingly thirsted for a cool glass of water. She peered down at her simple cotton sundress, now dirty beyond hope, and frowned.

She couldn’t possibly trudge into the house with this much dirt caked onto her clothes now. She’d leave a great muddy trail on those sparkling pale floors all the way through to the kitchens. Elain cursed herself for having forgotten to don an apron before getting stuck into her work.

She was just about to stand up and attempt to dust off as much muck as possible and go grab herself a drink, when a rogue shadow swirled and thickened in a dark mass on the small wooden stool beside her. As the shadow retreated, disappearing into the sunlight, it revealed a tall, chilled pitcher of fresh lemonade and a punnet of fat, ripe strawberries.

Turning to glance up at the manor behind her, keen brown eyes darting across its grand façade, she spotted the Shadowsinger in a window on the second floor. His profile could be seen from where he stood in Rhysand’s study, no doubt in a meeting of some sort with the High Lord and the General. But the dimple in his right cheek was just visible, indicating to Elain that he was indeed supressing a smile.

She turned back to the stool, smirking at the snack deposited there by the meddling Illyrian and reached over, pouring herself a glass and taking a long drag of the cool drink. It was heavenly, the perfect balance of sweet and tart. And ice cold. Wonderfully refreshing in this heat.

She popped a plump strawberry into her mouth, savouring the sweet nectar of its flesh, and she sighed in delight. Strawberries were her absolute favourite. She enjoyed them even more so when beautiful, scarred fingers would linger against her lips as they fed them lovingly to her, one by one. On warm summer days when the humid weather rendered everyone a little lazy and she could lounge in the tall grass with her head in his lap…

Now sated, Elain turned back to her work. As she picked up her hand trowel once more, she could feel those stunning hazel eyes focused on her. She could always sense him. She didn’t need any magic to do so. His intrinsic nature was engrained within her very soul. They had always silently danced around each other, like an expertly choreographed gavotte that only the two of them knew the steps to. A mischievous little grin bloomed across her face as an idea struck her.

She worked for a little longer, digging holes deep enough for her shrubs to nestle into at even increments across the flower bed. As she stood back to inspect her handiwork with a hand on her hip, she snatched her wide brimmed hat off her head, fanning her warm face with it. She closed her eyes, her chin tilted up to the heavens and a serene look of bliss graced her face.

Cracking an eye lid open, she spotted a shadowy mass in the corner of that second story window now, the dark plumes of shadows churning like smoke across the Shadowsinger’s handsome face.

Feigning ignorance of those piercing, watchful eyes, she dropped her hat to the ground at her feet and gathered her thick, unbound hair in a fist. Her long, golden-brown tresses cascaded down her shoulders and back, and she twisted it back onto itself, attempting to secure it into a knot, exposing her long, elegant neck.

She lolled her head heavily to one side, a slim hand sweeping across the back of her nape, languidly working out a kink in her tight muscles with the tips of her fingers.

She stretched slowly, her back arching. The lines of her body elongating gracefully as her elbow rose toward the blue sky in an elegant display of tensility. Elain twisted her body just so, allowing herself a glimpse of the manor at her back. Azriel was facing her fully now, seemingly having completely given up on pretending to pay attention in his meeting, watching her sensual little display out in the garden. Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

She jumped in surprise when a shadow darted along her throat. The dark wisp twining through the tendrils of loose hair that still hung around her neck, across her collar bones, and she laughed a soft throaty laugh. She stretched an arm out to one side and watched as the bold shadow danced along her skin there, twirling along her forearm and snaking between her outstretched fingers. It cooled her flushed skin, and she allowed the rogue shadow to frolic and dance across her smooth flesh. Its caress was as soft as a breeze off the ocean, invigorating and yet serene at the same time.

Lost in the feeling of the Shadowsinger’s silent charges worshipping her skin, she felt a gentle tap on the inner gates of her mind.

She opened them, just a sliver, allowing entry to the High Lord.

Elain, love… You’re doing a fantastic job at thoroughly distracting my Spymaster. I’m certain he hasn’t listened to a single word I’ve said in the last quarter of an hour.

Elain chuckled.

Do you blame him, Rhysand? What in the Mother’s Sweet Realm could be so important that you’ve all been holed up in that stuffy, boring office all afternoon on a day like today?

Rhys’ voice came through faux scorned, clutching at the metaphorical chest in his mind.

Boring?! You wound me, sister… but, I beg of you. Just ten more minutes. Please.

He sounded exasperated and desperate enough that Elain couldn’t help but take pity on him. She just laughed again and waved her hand in dismissal.

Reaching down for her discarded hat, she replaced it atop her head, turning toward the window one last time and shooting a clandestine little smile Azriel’s way.

She watched his eyes glow golden before reluctantly turning from the window to once more join his brothers in whatever meeting they were holding.

As she settled back on her knees at the edge of the upturned earth, a final ribbon of shadow eddied and spun besides her kneeling form, before whipping off abruptly to its master once more.

Left in its’ wake was a slip of scrap paper, bearing a hastily written message in a familiar, elegant scrawl.

Just 43 days until I can call you my wife. Those peonies will look devastatingly beautiful in your arms, my love.

Elain dipped her head and smiled to herself, tucking the note into the pocket of her dress to add it to all the others he’d given her. One for every day since he had proposed.

*******

tagging: @elriel-month @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @achelois-daughter​ @lesolehabitantdelalune​ @thisloveseternal​ @strangecreationchaos​ @fuckmelifesucks​ @annie-laur​ @gopeachllama​ @eloeloeheheh​ @tswaney17

[stucky-love-forever]

The Geek and The Jock

The Geek and The Jock

By Stucky-Love-Forever

Warnings;- None I think, but if you spot any let me know.

This is my first fic in....3 years? it was just to get the rust off so to speak but I kinda like it and dont know whether to carry on?

Let me know if you'd like more!

*********

For the record Bucky was not a stalker! He was a people watcher….ok he was a hot guys in the library watcher….fine he was a specific hot guy in the library watcher!

Bucky couldn’t help it, the blonde hair, the deep blue eyes, the shirt that strained over his bulging biceps. He’d been a goner since the second he first sat down in front of him three months ago. During those months Bucky had spoken exactly zero words to the godlike specimen that occupied the same table every day.

The college library was rarely full and the blonde clearly had a specific favourite spot and now so did Bucky. The table opposite him so he could stare at him over the lid of his laptop without being too obvious.

Steve, who Bucky had discovered was his name when the librarian called for him once, loved to draw. Maybe that was he was studying, there was constantly a pencil in his hand and a sketch pad in front of him.

Bucky on the other hand was there on an athletic scholarship, he’d always been a good baseball player all throughout his childhood, so he managed to get a free ride as a pitcher. Something his father was immensely proud of…. the fact that Bucky had told him he was gay…not so much. The subject was never brought up again, in fact these days Bucky barely spoke to his father. He had his mom and his little sister who were supportive and that’s all he needed.

Well, he also had Sam. Sam Wilson was Bucky’s closest friend, roommate and team mate. Sam was a great guy who never judged Bucky for his sexuality and in fact often offered to be his wingman despite the fact he was straight. The only downside to Sam…was the constant teasing he gave Bucky about his obsession with Steve.

Bucky’s phone vibrated next to him, informing him that he needed to head to a team meeting ready for tonight’s game. With a deep sigh he shut down his laptop and packed up his things and turned to leave without another glance at the blonde that had stolen his heart from afar. He never noticed the set of blue eyes that trailed after him as he walked away.

Steve sighs to himself as he looked down at yet another drawing of his mystery man. He’d been watching him for weeks, the way his brow crinkled in concentration as he typed, the lazy smile that graced his lips as he spoke to his friend. Steve had it bad; he knew who Barnes was, he wasn’t an idiot. Even if you don’t follow sports, it’s hard not to know the upcoming star pitcher. Rumours were that he could be good enough to go pro, but Steve had never seen him play. Despite his physique Steve was not interested in sports, he was your typical geek who was much more comfortable here in the library than a sports arena.

His best friend Nat had tried to get him to go to games with her. Clint, Nat’s boyfriend was on the team and she often tried to drag Steve along, more so since she learned of his crush on Bucky. Steve however, always refused. He was frustrated now and all he did was watch him from across library tables. It really wasn’t a good idea to see him in uniform…

As Steve looked back to the now vacant seat longingly, he noticed a jacket left on the seat beside Bucky’s. From what Steve could see it was Barnes’ baseball team jacket. Steve packed up his things and walked over to the seat and picked up the forgotten item. He was indeed correct when he saw the name ‘Barnes’ on the back. Steve wondered what he should do, turn it over to the librarian? Hand it in at lost and found? Take it to the baseball field and hand it to Bucky personally? (That was defiantly a no…) Give it to Nat to give to Clint to hand it back to Bucky? That however had potential.

He folded the jacket over his arm and pulled out his phone, ignoring the smell of cologne that drifted to his nose and the way it gave him butterflies. He began typing a message to Nat saying he’d swing by and give her the jacket when he ploughed into a figure entering the library.

Steve’s phone went flying in the air, his bag hit the floor and he was mortified. But his cell phone did not hit the ground, it was caught by the person he bumped into. Kneeling down and refusing to make eye contact in shame Steve rushed to apologise.

“I am so sorry! I’m not normally so clumsy I swear! Hey good catch” He smiled and stood before looking at the man before him. Steve’s stomach dropped; he’d just ran into Bucky Barnes.

“I…. I’m…. sorry….” he stuttered “That’s mine” he mumbled and pointed at the phone like an idiot, he was so glad Nat wasn’t here to witness this.

Bucky smiled at the blonde; this wasn’t the way he’d imagined their first meeting but he’ll take it.

“And that’s mine” Bucky replied pointing at the jacket nestled in Steve’s arms.

“You left it…I was just going to give it to Nat….to give to Clint…to give to you. I was just texting her when I well, when I walked into you” Steve mentally slapped himself, why didn’t he just hand over the jacket and stop talking?

“That’s a lot of work for a jacket Steve” Bucky smirked “Do you still want to do all that or are you happy to hand it over now?” He teased

“How do you know my name?” Steve asked blushing at brunette before him.

‘STOP TALKING AND GIVE HIM HIS JACKET!’ he screamed at himself.

“I hear the librarian talking to you sometimes” it was Bucky’s turn to blush now, he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It’s Steve Rogers, right? I’ve heard Natasha mention you” Steve nodded while praying silently that Nat had only told him good things.

“You should come to the game tonight; we all go out afterwards too. I’d like to talk to you some more, get to know you better” Bucky flirted lightly not wanting to scare Steve away.

“I don’t really go to the games….” Steve began before he was interrupted

“I’ve noticed, but I’m asking you to come to this one” Bucky smiled “I can use all the good luck I can get. It’s a hard game”

Steve’s stomach was doing backflips was he asking him out? Had Nat told him he was gay? Was he just teasing him because of it?

“I’m sure you have all the support you need from your fan club; the girls around here are always cheering you on” Steve replied testing the waters “I’m sure any of them would kill to get to know more”

“Oh, I don’t know about that… anyway they aren’t really my type” Bucky tried to drop the hint but it seemed to go straight over Steve’s head.

“Any of them?” the blonde frowned and Bucky laughed

“No…they...umm…they are lacking some vital equipment…” Bucky tried again smiling lazily at Steve who continued to frown for a moment before realisation covered his face.

“Oh…oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry about it Steve it’s not like it’s a secret” Bucky waved off his attempted apology

Well Steve hadn’t known, maybe it was a good job as his silly little crush would have gone supernova a lot sooner if he’d have realised he was also gay.

Bucky passed Steve his cell phone back just as Bucky’s own cell started beeping, it was Sam telling him to hurry up.

“Damn, listen I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tonight yeah?” Bucky smiled as he backed away, jacket long forgotten.

“Well….I suppose I could…” Bucky beamed at the answer and Steve never wanted to see his face any other way again. “Wait, your jacket” he called to a further retreating Bucky.

“Keep it and bring it with you tonight, you can wear it if you get cold” and with a wink he was gone jogging across the campus

Steve smiled to himself holding the jacket back against his chest, the Geek and the Jock…what a cliché…but one he couldn’t wait to explore.

[spiltscribbles]

Here’s a prompt from the tag! “ Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.” bc I have a feeling Remis would be the type to end up eating Sirius’ dessert instead of his bc he doesn’t know what to order but Sirius knows his taste dkfjsjaha

~Notes: Oh no baby! I read this wrong, thinking it was Person A ordering for them instead because Person B didn’t know what they wanted.... And well this came out-- I can totally write a different prompt though to match this one! Just LMK! <3 <3

.-

Send Me A Prompt  |  Reblogs are like the tastiest dessert!!

.-

Remus pads softly into his and Sirius’s room, a mug of steaming Darjeeling in hand and clad only in a his robe as he gazes longingly at the sleeping form of his partner for nearing on three years now. 

The early morning sun pans across the wide expanse of Sirius’s shoulders, and dips into the planes and valleys of his muscular torso and angular face. Lying there, with his dark hair fanning the pillow and the blanket slung lazily around his hips, he looks like some sort of fallen angel. Beautiful and remote and impossible to touch by sullied hands that aren’t half as sacred. It makes his heart thud an uneven staccato when he remembers that he’s his— Sirius chose Remus, Sirius loves Remus— Maybe even nearly as much as Remus has always loved him.

How remarkable of a revelation indeed.

Gingerly, Remus sets down his tea and crawls back into bed with Sirius, insides thrilling when the dark haired boy subconsciously snakes his arms around him and curves around Remus’s body like so many times before, so often that Remus reckons it’s become by rote, an ingrained response to whenever they’re in close proximity to one another.

With a quiet laugh, Remus stretches around, begins peppering Sirius’s chest and abs and the space surrounding his cock with tender kisses, slowly rousing him to wakening the way Sirius always appreciates after a night of patrols for the Auror’s academy. And as usual, it doesn’t take long at all for Sirius to begin moaning out appreciative sighs, thrusting languorously for the warmth of his mouth, making Remus chuckle as he tugs down his pants, and kisses the length of him, peering up to watch as Sirius’s gorgeous, gray eyes flutter open.

“Wh— Moony?” He says in a peculiarly squeaky voice that Remus can’t ever remember slipping out of his mouth. 

“Yes— Problem, Paddy?”

Another discontent, borderline terrified noise rumbles in his throat, and before Remus could even ask what’s got his boyfriend acting like he’s touched in the head, the door to their flat flings open none too gently, and it’s an irate looking James who storms into the bedroom— fists clenched and jaw set as he glares daggers into the face of his practical brother.

“You’re dead Potter!” Is all he shouts before madness ensues— Madness that’s James’s flying fists for Sirius’s face, Peter’s choked laughter flowing in from the other room, and a Lily who looks stuck between horrified and amused

And Remus is so fucking bewildered as he slides off of his boyfriend to avoid any untoward hits accidentally aimed his way.

“Lily?” he presses expectantly, but is totally unsurprised when all she replies with is a bout of uninhibited cackles.

.-

Fifteen minutes, a magically healed split lip, and a physically restrained pair of animagi later, finds the ragtag group of friends surrounding the kitchen Island while a terse James and enraged Sirius are explaining what had happened the previous night. Namely, them getting hexed by a sour faced old bint with a Guinness in hand, after Sirius had driven his motorbike through her rosebushes.

“You guys got bested by a drunk hag!” Peter guffaws for the third time in a singular minute, clutching at his stomach while his body wracks with a continuous stream of  laughter

“I will singe your bollocks off Wormtail,” Sirius seethes from Remus’s left— Except no, it’s not Sirius. It’s James, his best mate James who’s now inhabiting the body of his lover. And God how strange of a fucking turn of events. It’s seriously unnerving. He’s just standing their, all too familiar arms crossed against his chest and thick brows furrowed. And God, Remus really wishes he wouldn’t do that— worry on his bottom lip mid snarl. It’s such a quintessentially Sirius thing to do. a look Remus knows well. One that Remus would always coax away with a gentle kiss and a hand carding through his hair and— 

“Oof!”

He glances over to where Sirius— wearing James’s face— is glowering at him with pure irritation after having elbow checked him. “Eyes front and center Lupin!”

Remus flushes, glancing over at Lily since she out of everyone here could understand his plight. But of course she’s only snickering to herself in her cup of coffee, the trader. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just because ’s my body doesn’t mean you get to give another bloke the come hither eyes!” Sirius fumes, a sneer caught on his features that Remus never thought the face of the easy going James Potter could ever conjure. “Crikey, it’s plenty that you decided to give him a full on show already.”

“How was I to know this would happen!” Remus sputters the same time James defends that they even barely started, which of course made Peter fall over on his chair with pure delight and Lily walking over to the kettle so she can hide her own laughter.

“Lucky you,” Sirius snipes back, glaring darkly at James and snatching Remus’s hand to interlock with his— erm James’s?— own on his lap.

Remus is so totally fucked.

.-

Graciously, Professor McGonagall— who told the graduating Gryffindor  class of 78 to always reach out if they ever needed help with a strangely wet glint in her eyes— Replies to the pleading missive Remus had sent almost immediately, giving Remus the proper instructions to reverse the jinx and wishing him and Lily the best for the impending tribulations about to befall them.

“She’s totally loving this,” James mumbles moodily as Lily massages his head. And Merlin, is that a strange sight— Lily not only deigning to touch Sirius at all, but look at him sympathetically on top of that. Remus has to constantly remind himself of the body swap before his ridiculous envy begins carving at his insides when James only looks appreciatively back up at her, a gentle, open expression painted over his face that is ordinarily reserved for Remus and Remus alone.

“God this is weird,” Lily tells him, slowly inching away and sitting besides Remus instead. “I usually can’t stand even the sight of Black, and now I’ve got to treat him like the bloke I’m in love with.”

“That’s not what you said this morning Evans,” Sirius goads from Remus’s other end, suddenly reverting back to looking like the James of fifth year— when he was still too cocky for his own good and still didn’t understand how much it made Lily want to hex him to hell for it. “I actually think I recall a lot of back robs and straddling action this morning.”

Lily casts him a look that would absolutely scorch lesser beings, and Remus reasons that his own glower is emulating the same energy because Sirius quickly presses their foreheads together and squeezes Remus’s hand between both of his own in silent repentance. “I knocked her off once i realized it wasn’t you love.”

“Didn’t even bother to aim for the bed you absolute sod.”

“It was fight or flight while you had your grubby little hands all over me Evans!” Sirius airily sniffs.

“Oh I’ll show you grubby little hands!” Lily seethes, pouncing forwards right when Sirius hides behind Remus’s back.

“Children,” Remus intones, beyond over it. “Did you all not realize the massive problem with this little mishap.”

“You mean besides dealing with James’s pitiful little knob.” Sirius asks, faux owlish.

“You touch my knob Black and I swear to God I’ll shave off all your hair.” James snipes, which really isn’t all that fair considering how Sirius doesn’t even care about his perfect locks half as much as Remus does.

“Bloody hell! That’s brilliant!” Peter squawks from the loveseat, absolutely glowing. “James, you think you can get Moony’s name tattooed on his arse.”

James’s face goes sly, Remus’s favorite smirk toying the edges of his lips and his stormy eyes glinting with mirth that Remus only ever sees on his boyfriend’s face before a prank or while Remus is undressing in front of him. 

“What did I say about that look Moony!” Sirius shouts, scathing and skewering him with a look James only ever  employed as Head Boy  on the third year students stupid enough to get caught while trying to pull off a prank.

“Erm— Ahem.” Remus adjusts himself in his seat, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes well, that is rather besides the point.”

“So what is the point, Rem,” Lily asks smugly, and Remus absolutely hates how much she’s enjoying this. She should be suffering just as much as him for the sake of Circe.

“Well didn’t you have that lunch date set up with your older sister and her husband for today?” Remus points out, a mutinous little part of him preening at how her face goes a sickly sort of pale at the reminder. Finally someone is as ill over this as he is.

“Oh bloody shite! You’re right! And Professor McGonagall said that this incantation can only be done at night, the same time as it was originally cast!”

“We’re not in school anymore Evans, you can just call her McGonagall. Or Minnie if you’re so inclined.”

“Shut the fuck up Black!” Lily shrieks, and Remus can’t help but unfavorably liken her to a banshee. “I promised Petunia that I’d see her before she leaves on holiday tomorrow! And she bloody hates Black!”

“nasty harpy.”

“What are we going to do!”

“Erm— Well maybe you can explain to her the switch up?” Peter offers, always meek in the face of Lily’s wrath.

“She already thinks I’m a freak for being a witch Peter! I can’t bring James looking like that and expect her to be fine with it!”

“Most people would consider James having upgraded,” Sirius argues.

“The tattoo will be bright pink I reckon,” James muses loudly to himself, pretending not to have heard Sirius. “A nice contrast to your pasty white arse don’t you think Padfoot?”

Sirius bares his teeth at him and Remus feels an impending migraine while Lily continues to lament the idiocy of their boyfriends.

.-

Remus idly contemplates how normal his life could’ve been if he had fought harder with the sorting hat to be placed into Ravenclaw. It would be a much less wonderful existence, to be sure, but it’d be so blessedly normal. Remus would probably have gone steady with that Hufflepuff prefect, Andre, and they would probably still be together. And Andre didn’t have a best friend who he got into insane and improbable situations with, so Remus definitely wouldn’t have been forced to do this. To be forced to go to lunch with his best friend’s wizard hating sister and her pug faced husband and not look longingly over the table at the face of his other best friend where the love of his life is inhabiting his body.

Jesus, is Remus’s life confusing as fuck.

“I need to take a pis— Oof, I mean. I have to use the gents,” Sirius declares as everyone’s entrees are being served, giving a pointed glance to Remus. And he supposes he should talk to him about that, how incredibly obvious Sirius can be when he’s flustered and isn’t trying to show it.

Five minutes after his boyfriend, Remus leaves to meet him in the first open stall, finally feeling less wrong footed for the first time today when Sirius takes him into his unfamiliar arms.

“I’m going to stab my eyes out with a fork Moony!” He hisses, and it’s odd how alien his face— James’s face— is to him. How Remus has never spent the time to memorize the precise slope of his nose, or the shape to his lips. How Remus can’t understand what it means when he squints his left eye or when he flares his nostrils with a slight curl to his mouth. But Remus does recognize the way Sirius has always grabbed his hips in that desperate way when he’s fed up, and how he always presses his nose to the curls behind Remus’s ear when he needs to be grounded. And it’s a bit awkward now that they’re the same height instead of Sirius needing to stoop slightly, and how Sirius now smells like that pricy cologne that James has always sprits with gusto. But it’s familiar enough to make Remus’s shoulders relax from the tension sown through them all day, and breathe out with relief with how the pair of them still understand one another with an innate sort of knowing.

Gingerly, Remus wraps his arms around Sirius’s now less defined torso, and they stand their, tangled into one another amidst the hush settling over  them.

“Oi! You berks!” James hisses from the doorway all too soon, clambering inside and stomping his feet. “I swear to Merlin if you pricks are fucking inside there!”

“Don’t worry Jamie, I’d never put my Moons through the indignity of dealing with that after he’s had me,” Sirius jeers, preening when James replies by throwing something hard against the doorway.

“C’mon you idiot,” Remus sighs, tugging on a lowly chuckling Sirius as they meet James by the exit of the loo.

“I’ve had three different birds sliding their numbers into my trousers on my way here alone,” James complains, shuffling foot to foot and looking more awkward than Sirius ever has. “It’s obscene.”

“It’s the life of the beautiful,” Sirius corrects as Remus swaths his hand away from his arse. 

“I’d rather not have Petunia getting a heart attack when she sees her sister’s boyfriend copping a feel of another bloke,” he chides before looping his arm through James’s and begins strolling back to the table.

.-

The rest of the lunch is thankfully uneventful, but as stilted as expected, filled with Sirius needing to be kicked in the shin every time he starts gazing absentmindedly at Remus, and Lily flickering her eyes over to James disappointedly while he pouts at her with Sirius’s best puppy dog eyes. And Every time Petunia starts eyeing them all as if they’re all fucking each other behind the scenes, Remus clumsily changes the topic to the weather or how lovely her engagement ring is or asking Vernon about bloody drills— Even if all he wants to do is reach across the table and hold Sirius’s hand.

But thankfully, it all seems to be going along decently enough— That is until the waiter comes around to take their orders and spends a little too long leering at Remus, asking if he’d like a cinnamon roll on the house.

“He’d like a slice of the chocolate fudge cake and he has a boyfriend that probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra service.” Sirius growls out, specs gone askew and dark knuckles paling from where he’s clutching his spoon vindictively.

The waiter only smiles at him, shrugging in that what can you do kind of way before dashing off to place the orders in with the kitchen.

“Hmm,” Petunia levels him with a glance, unimpressed looking. “So James.”

It takes a beat too long for Sirius to respond and Remus silently curses his every damn star. 

“Erm, yes Petunia.”

“How long have you been fucking my sister’s friend behind her back?”

Lily goes shellshocked and James looks ill while Remus sinks lower in his seat, trying to force Sirius to get it together through his eye contact alone.

“Hah— Wow, you’ve been watching those silly Muggle dramas have you Petunia.” Sirius says in a mangled tone of voice, but of course that’s the precise wrong thing to have said.

With matching red faces and spluttering words of indignation— a few curses thrown in for good measure— Petunia and her husband rise from their seats and make a hasty retreat to their car towards the back of the building.

“Oh Christ,” Lily groans, jumping up to sprint after them— but not without swinging a perfectly aimed cuff to the back of Sirius’s porcupine head. “I’ll hex you once you’re out of my boyfriend’s sodding body Black!”

“I understand Evans!” He calls after her before swinging his head over to James and Remus with a mischievous grin. “We tried didn’t we?”

“You just couldn’t keep your bloody jealous  temper in check,” James scolds with no real heat.

“Oi! And what about you lusting over Lily so blatantly you tosser! It was revolting.”

“Yeah, well maybe you’ll remember that next time you’re gazing at Moony’s arse out in public you mongrel.”

Exhausted, Remus just rises and tells them to stay behind and make sure Lily’s alright. “I need a bath and some quiet.”

“Can I join,” Sirius pouts. “I miss you.”

“Only once you’re my  Sirius again,” Remus instructs, brooking no arguments before he finds a safe place to apparate, telling himself that he deserves an entire bottle of that cheap merlot they bought last weekend.

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Elleth-in-Training

25, 29 and 31 w/ legolas during lotr !! could u use they/them pronouns ? if not fem is okay too ! ♡♡ thank youuu

hey! of course i’ll write they/them! i’m bi, so i definitely support lgbtq+ baes <3

i just gotta *edit* one of the prompts because ‘mahal’ is a Dwarven curse

25. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?” “YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” 29. “Did you just kiss me?” “Was I not supposed to?” “I don’t know, but could you do it again?” 31. “Valar, are you alright?” “*groan* I will be … in a few thousand years.”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Legolas x reader Summary: Y/N is training to become Captain of the Guard, and she must accompany Legolas on the quest to Mordor Warnings: ‘fuck’ Word Count: 1063 words

All non-English is in Sindarin.

Y/N sighed. They glanced longingly at young ellith (female elves) and ellyn (male elves), and wished, not for the first time, that they didn’t have to be in Imladris. Sure, the Last Homely House was a beautiful place, and they loved being out of Taur-nu-Fuin (Mirkwood) for once, but their reasons for being there were ... inexplicably adorable.

And therein lay the problem. Also the fact that they were training to be Captain of the Guard, and was doing a pretty bad job of it.

“Y/N! Tolo ar nin! (Come with me!)” the problem spoke, running up to them.

Y/N turned, and was met by the infectious smile of Legolas Thranduilion that few besides Elves were treated to. 

“A, Legolas. Am man? (Hi, Legolas. Why?)” they responded, folding their s/c arms. 

“Because,”  Legolas said, breaking the Sindarin and not even letting his smile falter at Y/N’s apparent unenthusiasm. “You’re accompanying me, you should meet the Fellowship.”

“The what?” Y/N asked, a hand on her sword. 

“The Fellowship of the RIng - four hobbits, a wizard, two men, a Dwarf and two Elves! That would be us.”

“Sounds like a bad joke,” they said warily.

“Alright, Y/N, come on, lighten up!” Legolas nudged them. They just scowled back. 

“Fine.”

Legolas watched the h/c edhel (gender-neutral term for Elf uwu tolkien we love u) go first in front of him, and now that they couldn’t see him, he finally dropped his smile. 

Why were they so cold and serious?

---

Y/N growled in frustration as they cut down yet another Orc ladder thrown haphazardly upon the battlements of Helm’s Deep, slashing at the Orcs that remained on the wall.

“Y/N! Gimli! I’m on nineteen!” Legolas called somewhere. Y/N’s keen Elvish ears picked up his score and rolled their eyes.

“Ion e suni (son of a bitch),” they muttered, yelling back, “Twelve!”

Some sword cut into her - a shallow cut, though it stung annoyingly. Y/N quickly pressed a s/c hand to the cut, drawing it away with a hiss as red blood soaked into it. They wiped their hand on their armour - no time to stop in the middle of a battle. 

Y/N stared at the blood, and cursed themself. (A/N - i am so sorry is that pronoun right?) Elves were supposed to be so talented and strong in battle they never bled - and Y/N had just proved that wrong. They channelled their anger into the fight and realised with some semblance of satisfaction that they fought better this way.

However, none of that mattered when Y/N heard a familiar voice give a growl of pain. 

“Legolas!” they shouted. “Legolas, mi van le? (Where are you?)”

“Y/N!” 

They rushed towards the source of the noise, recklessly swinging their sword around them, making Orcs cut them a wide berth. Panic shrouded their mind, and even as they saw dead familiar bodies all around them, and Aragorn crouched over the body of Haldir of Lorien, they could not shake their purpose form Legolas.

After all, they tried to reason. I am the Captain of the Guard. It’s my duty to try and help my soldiers. 

Y/N skidded to a stop around the spot where they had heard the cry, looking around for Legolas.

They found him ... and their s/c skin paled rapidly, all the colour leeching from their face. He was still fighting, still remaining strong, but in an evident moment of distraction, he’d allowed himself to be sliced shallowly by a sword, and an arrow was embedded in his forearm.

“Legolas!” Y/N yelled, lunging for him, defending the stubborn elf, who was evidently tiring, with a newfound vigour.

“Y/N,” he breathed, noting their technique as he fought beside them. “You will indeed make a good Captain of the Guard.”

“That won’t matter if we never get back to Taur-nu-Fuin,” they replied shortly, sparing their remaining concentration on Legolas with a painful concern. 

“Wait ...” Legolas said slowly, pointing at something Y/N couldn’t see. “It’s dawn.”

Just as he said it, a loud call of a horn sounded, bringing with it more hope and energy.

“Gandalf!” Y/N said, grinning. They stopped when Legolas grimaced, though the Orcs had fled to meet this new force. “Legolas, are you all right?”

“I will be fine,” he assured them. “Gandalf is here.” 

Together, they looked out from the battlements, out from the carnage, and saw the arrival of a new army to absolutely demolish the Orc force.

“Huh.” Legolas leaned more heavily against the walls. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?”

“YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” they yelled, itching to give Legolas a well-deserved slap, but refraining themselves as they inspected the wounds. “How did this even happen? You’ve bled, like, once.”

“I was shot, not stabbed. I was distracted,” Legolas grumbled, unwilling to admit that the distraction had been Y/N. 

They attended to the cut first, bandaging it up tightly, and then turning Legolas over, wincing at his groan as they ran their fingers around the edge of the arrow.

“I can’t take care of this,” Y/N announced, pulling Legolas to his feet. “I’ll take you to a healer.”

Legolas scrunched his face up as he stood, attempting unsuccessfully to ignore the pain. 

“Valar, are you alright?”

“I will be … in a few thousand years.” Legolas groaned, but still managed another endearingly sweet smile. They smiled back, giving a tiny laugh at the joke and hooking Legolas’s arm over their shoulders and gesturing with a head movement which direction to walk. 

---

“Thanks, Y/N,” Legolas grinned, arrow freshly pulled from his arm and bandage replacing it. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“Nah, it wasn’t trouble,” Y/N shrugged, sitting next to him and cleaning blood off their sword. “Besides. It was the least I could do for one of my soldiers.” They smirked teasingly.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You’re not Captain yet.”

They elbowed him. “Just you watch me.”

“Oh, I fully intend to,” Legolas said, and then took Y/N completely by surprise and kissed them.

Y/N turned red from head to toe, reluctantly pulling away after a couple seconds, gasping. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Legolas asked.

Y/N bit their lip. “I don’t know, but could you do it again?”

Legolas leaned in again. “Of course.”

Thanks @amanemisamisa​! i’m getting round to the rest of the requests soon!

EVERYONE - NO MATTER HOW MANY REQUESTS I HAVE THEY’RE STILL GONNA BE OPEN SO FEEL FREE!

[vanillasakura]

IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music 

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted 

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

  ��━━━━━━━━━━༺❀━━━━━━━━━━≾

Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy. 

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it. 

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to. 

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her. 

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing. 

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but. 

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman. 

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable. 

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in. 

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.” 

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.” 

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. 

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.” 

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next. 

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh. 

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.” 

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?” 

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?” 

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment. 

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on. 

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled. 

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

[amyscascadingtabs]

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

//

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

~

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

p;

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

~

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

  “He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

 It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

 And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

 Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

 As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

  It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

  They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

 Three, two, one… happy new year!

  The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

~

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 3 to my Crash story. You are still stranded on Tattooine with Poe Dameron after you crash landed your X wing due to a system malfunction.

You've been getting intimate nightly with him. It's become a routine, wake up, work on the ship and then

have sex until you both fall asleep.

You're developing feelings for your superior and mentor. Romantic feelings. You feel like you're falling in love with him but at the same time you're terrified that you're being used to relieve stress.

Does Poe Dameron love you too or are you indeed being used?

Warnings, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, language. Not for anyone under 18.

Crash Part 3

That remote area of Tattooine has become your very own paradise.

You silently thank yourself for crash landing. The inconvenience and potential danger almost seems worth it thanks to the toe curling sex you've been enjoying every night before bed.

He was right. Apparently you've never been with a "real man" before.

Of course you won't admit this to him. You don't want to stroke his ego as much as something else.

Poe's virility and bedroom skills are unmatched. The pleasure he's treated you to feels almost forbidden, illicit actually. And you're not sure why.

"You've been awfully quiet today, what's wrong kid?"

The ship is nearly ready to hit the skies. Much to your combined relief.

Instead of celebrating you feel uncertain.

Poe catches you sitting on the blanket that has been the host of your nightly rendezvous. You are staring off into space with a worried expression on your face.

Poe joins you and places a strong hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't want this to end". You confess, looking slightly misty eyed.

"You want to live on Tattooine?" Poe teases, chuckling a little.

"No". You reply with a nervous giggle, your tone quickly becoming serious again. "I don't want the intimacy to end".

Poe looks slightly taken aback by your confession. For once he's silent and not sure what to say.

"Uh, yeah, about that". Poe replied with a nervous laugh. "We've been stranded here alone for two days, we've literally only had each other to lean on, it was bound to happen. We're human".

"I've become attached to you". You confess, gazing deeply into his eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen".

"You impress me, y/n". Poe tells you as he leans in and kisses you. "You're smart, beautiful, an excellent pilot in the making".

"But right now you smell terrible". He said, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"Well so do you". You reply, giggling.

"I want you to spend the day with me, when we get back to the base". Poe whispers into your ear.

"I want to worship every inch of your body until you can't take it any longer".

You pull away and gaze longingly into his eyes. You can't believe that this absolutely gorgeous specimen of a man is attracted to you and wants you badly.

The trip back home is a relatively quiet one. You pick up on subtle cues from Poe such as the way he would smile at you and gently brush your thigh with his hand.

His quarters are pretty much what you expected from a bachelor. Sparsely decorated, sort of messy.

After both of you take a shower you relax in his bed, Poe immediately wants to cuddle with you.

"I hope you like my interior decorating skills". He whispers into your ear, causing you to giggle.

"It's a good thing that you're a better pilot". You reply, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"Mmmmm your skin is so smooth, like silk". Poe continues, tracing a finger gently along your soft curves. "Can I taste you?"

You roll over on your back and he gets on top of you and once again begins to shower you from head to toe with those delicious, delicate little kisses.

Poe is being so cuddly, so soft, you can hardly contain yourself.

He spreads your legs gently and delivers those same teasing, fluttering kisses to your wet pussy. You run your fingers through his soft, curly hair as you grind into him, climaxing with a weak whimper.

You collapse in a weak heap with a huge, satisfied smile on your face.

Poe cuddles up next to you and starts to massage and rub your breasts.

Your entire body is still extremely sensitive from the intense orgasm that you had just experienced. You shudder from his touch as he begins to suck on your nipples.

He gets on top of you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Poe gently, teasingly penetrates you with his perfect cock.

For some reason you are extra tight that evening. You feel stuffed, just absolutely stretched to the max with his cock.

When Poe cums he's nibbling and nuzzling your neck and mumbling about how good you feel.

The two of you fall asleep in each other's arms. When you wake up the next morning he's affectionately stroking your hair.

"Mmm that was incredible". You mumble weakly, a little smile appearing on your sleepy face.

Poe begins to tenderly run his hands all over your body, making you whimper and sigh from contentment.

The end

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 40

THE ROAD SO FAR

It's not that hard to say goodbye. But it's really sad for the notable few who enjoyed it.

The SIXth Ship

"Alex"

Sierra Leone, Africa

"Echo 3 - 1 to Hunter One One. We have confirmed the presence of a suspected SAM Turret. Advising not to deploy air support until it's down, over." Alex muttered over the radio as he lowered his scope.

"Copy that, Three One. We'll stand by for your go signal." Roach replied as Alex signaled his team to move forward, covering Alpha Team's six.

"This place is suspiciously quiet." Price muttered over comms.

"It's 5 am. Bad guys probably needed sleep too." Alex commented, scoping on what's head of Team Alpha.

"Well, I want Volt awake, so I could beat Nero's location out of him." Price spat.

"Guardhouse on the east. Single guard, fast asleep."Alex shot his suppressed rifle as the guard dropped to the ground.

"Good Night."

"I'm hearing an engine starting on our east." Soap whispered as Alex turned his scope east. There was indeed a truck load of food arriving at their base.

"Civilian delivery truck." Alex warned.

"Let him pass. He'll notice the dead guard and run." Price predicted and it actually happened as the innocent driver sped off away from the base.

"How long till he calls the cops?" Alex asked.

"Never. France already bribed the guy." Soap answered.

"What?" Alex was puzzled.

"Welcome to Africa." Soap chuckled and they hid into the supply truck while Price drove inside.

"Alright, we're in. Soap and France should plant charges on SAMs and Comms. Once their alarm rings we light things up." Price ordered as Alex's team advanced and circled the perimeter, protecting the gates.

"Where could Volt be hiding?" Alex asked.

"Could be anywhere. This base has lots of buildings." Rocket replied not far behind him.

"There are also six ships by the dock. He could be in one of those." Royce added.

"Alpha Team, we've got movement on your six. Looks like they're looking for their supply drop. They're by the truck and unloading their supplies." Alex warned as the three remained quiet.

"Tango by the guard house down." Rocket confirmed his kill as the body dropped on the ground.

"They're about to discover their dead allies. Prepare for the alarm!" Alex roared as their alarm system activated, dozens of troops from their camps emerged carrying weapons.

"Shit! I'm taking sniper fire by the rooftops!" Soap yelled over comms. Bravo team immediately turned their sights to the rooftops and took down the snipers with ease.

"There's no sign of Volt here. He must've woken up early. Rendezvous with me by the tower." Price muttered.

"Sir. This is Meat from Charlie Team. We've confirmed movement on the docks. No positive ID of Volt yet."

"Copy that meat. Proceeding to the docks." Price said as gunfire echoed through his comms.

"Seeing multiple reinforcements from the gate!" Alex alerted as they attempted to shoot down armored cars loaded with more enemies.

"Alex! This area is compromised!" One of his allies suggested as smoke started to cover their forest.

"Shit! We'll have to meet up with them inside! Change to assault weapons and advance to the gate. You two cover our six using thermals." The two nodded as Alex switched to his assault rifle, advancing towards the gate, taking down reinforcements as they arrived.

"Price? Soap? France? Sitrep?" He roared through comms as his team was now barraged with heavy fire as they hid for cover.

"This is Bravo Six. I made my way inside the last ship. Looks like he's trying to escape. France and Soap are by the docks taking heavy fire. I'll handle Volt from here. You hold out for extraction. It looked like we didn't have a choice." Price said.

Alex felt the heat of the explosion as the ground shook. Soap had detonated the charges they set and help was on the way.

"Roach!" Soap sounded hurt.

"Way ahead of you!" Roach said as the air support bombarded the base with grenade shells, blasting every enemy away as the ground troops recovered.

"Reloading for another round. Stand by." He said as the plane circled back.

"Okay team! Their numbers have reduced. Let's finish this." Alex informed his bravo team as they finished off the remaining waves of enemies, which were too resourceful as they also had attack hyenas, something they didn't expect.

"These dogs are furious!" One commented as they entered the gates, securing the whole base or what's left of it, for valuable intel.

"Echo Three One to Actual. Jack, it looked like they cleaned this place already."

"Actual to Three One. Looks like it. I guess their getaway ship had all his latest work."

"Charlie team found a way to follow them. Bravo team resume recon on the five ships." Jack commanded and the rest followed

"Copy that, Actual. Proceeding towards the ships with caution." Alex replied as they carefully pressed deeper into the base toward the pier. Alex wondered how many piers and ships had been involved on his missions. Looks like Nero doesn't trust air travel.

The ships were rusted and broken, but the components inside were new stacks of equipment possibly used for his bomb making.

"This sly guy hides his stuff inside these rusty ships." Alex reported, his voice echoed around the ship.

"We're all clear, Alex. This ship is empty of tangos." One of his allies reported.

"So are the other ones." Another one reported.

"We found the rest of Alpha team by the pier. Looks like Soap's injured." Said another.

"Copy that. Stay frosty. We have no visual of the entrance so reinforcements might arrive." Alex replied to everyone.

"Roger that." The rest of his team replied in unison. Roach's Air support chopper hovered ahead of them and followed the getaway ship, providing support to Capt. Price. Charlie team had borrowed some small boats to aid in Volt's capture.

"It's all up to him now." Alex muttered as they resumed securing the enemy base.

"So, how was your day?" Samantha smiled, slipping herself inside the covers as she lay down beside Alex. The tired man huffed out a sigh and looked at her beautiful girlfriend, whose eyes were staring at him longingly. It's been almost a month since the task force was created and they were on separate beds, but Alex always makes sure he sleeps over every time he's free.

"Oh, you know. The other kind of usual. We beat information out of Nero's bomb maker today." He said in an interesting tone.

"I know beating people is wrong, but when you've been played with by these kinds of people, it's kind of pleasant to the ears." She chuckled, her hand gliding on his arms and looked for his hands.

"Yeah. I'll never stop doing it until they get a taste of their medicine." Alex breathed and looked at Samantha. Her eyes that once looked blank and lost now looked happy. It was tragic how she just wanted to live a normal life but had everything taken away from her.

"What would you do when this is all over?" She asked, questioning his last statement.

"Well, I could finally take you out on a nice date. Maybe say hi to your dad or something." he blurted, making Samantha's eyes widen in surprise.

"Aww.." She smiled as she leaned in for a kiss, while Alex slowly lifted her so that she's now lying on top of him.

"Why is it that every kiss feels so different." She mused as she leaned for another one.

"Maybe because my love for you grows stronger every second?" He replied.

"Haha. You're funny." She said sarcastically.

"That I am." He grinned as they rolled over, giggling at whatever they were doing.

"I love you, Samantha." Alex whispered in the sexiest way that he could resulting to Samantha actually giggling in disbelief.

"I love you too, Alex." She replied.

"Now, go to sleep. I want you well rested for your work tomorrow." She added as she turned the lamp off. Alex groaned like a kid who doesn't want to go to bed yet.

"How can I sleep, when even in the dark, I could still see your pretty face." He whispered as Samantha laughed.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, mister." She said as she turned back, letting Alex hug her from behind. She always loved his warm embrace beside him, a feeling of security amidst all the times that she'd been kidnapped.

The next morning, Alex came back to the base after breakfast with Samantha. It has been a while since he had that and thought that it wouldn't hurt to go late once in a while.

"Where have you been?" Roach asked as soon as he got to the base.

"I overslept." he lied as Roach scoffed.

"You? Hahaha. Nice try. I know full well that no matter what happens you always wake up at the exact time." Roach laughed.

"Why? Is there something wrong with Volt?" Alex pressed on to the main topic at hand.

"The guy had a little fight. But he actually talked."

"Yeah? About what? Nero's location?"

"No. And This isn't like the official thing, it's just rumors. Price slept at the infirmary today and hasn't woken up yet. So the news is that his EMP tech is now capable of killing humans on a set radius."

"Shit." Alex hissed.

"I know. It could launch anywhere anytime and no one could hide from it. A whole new kind of killing weapon." Roach wondered, making them worry about what Nero's about to do.

"Volt better get talking soon."

"Yeah. He better." Roach approved with an encouraging voice.

Later that afternoon the whole 141 was briefed about a message sent from Nero himself. Thousands of humans, civilians and soldiers alike, were nuked just outside the American capital.

The blast didn't do much damage to infrastructure but machines and humans suffered more than ever. Some were able to withstand the mental damage while some were left in a trance state. Some who already had some form of mental problems suffered horribly and dropped dead on the streets.

It was estimated that about half a million people were affected as the nuke exploded by the ocean. Some say this was a miscalculation and others speculated that this was Nero's warning shot.

America had raised itself on high alert, any time Nero's troops would charge on American soil ignoring all authorities who wanted to stop him. This was it. His plan finally came to fruition.

As for the task force, they have located the main signal of the nuke's control. A place somewhere in Cuba. Alex and Jack knew this place was once visited by older CIA SAD members and rumors had it that one of their Black Ops comrades died there. It once housed the reverse engineered Greenlight nuke. Alex never told anyone in 141 about this as history would tend to repeat itself. He hoped that this was not the case.

This would be the lead that the rest of the task force will be focusing on. As the war rages, Alex was sure that the following days would be the toughest so, while waiting for any potential final lead and orders from above, they spent the rest of their time training for the final showdown against Nero.

Optional Chapter : The Fall of the Capital - Pvt. Ramirez

Next Chapter : FIVE Seconds

Notification Squad my Beloved

@enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @bumblingbee1 @whimsywispsblog

[its-me-jessi]

Love Finds Its Way PT4

Summary: Preventing Ivar from joining the crew even if well intended might eventually backfire and Ivar's presence brings back not so pleasant memories.

A/N: I hope you like the fourth part of “Love finds its Way” as well. It turned out much longer than the previous parts. Feel free to leave any kind of feedback. 🤗🧡

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

I turned around quickly and adjusted my pirate hat so that it casts shadows over my face. Ivar knew me too well; he would recognize my face immediately. I had no choice but to hide it. But if he had already recognized me, I would be hamstrung, my cover would be blown in front of the entire crew, including the captain, and my plan to find my parents, while forgetting Ivar and leaving the time with him behind, would burst like a bubble. Then the procedure would start all over again.

I was shocked when a hand landed rudely on my right shoulder. Ever since I pretended to be a man, I was treated accordingly. A handshake was no longer a harmless handshake, it was a test of strength. My dainty, rather small hand was gripped and pressed; crushed ruthlessly. It was not uncommon for the men to make fun of my small hands. For them, I was the undersized wimp. As an actual woman, I found it difficult to keep up with them.

I had raised my head slowly and cautiously. I grabbed the brim of my pirate hat and raised it, as a sign of respect, before tilting it again. When the captain stepped past me and went to the crew's table, unmistakably full of meat and pitchers of rum, I sighed in relief. At first I was afraid the captain's hand was originally Ivar's, who might have recognized me. However, my hope that Ivar had decided against this step, joining the piracy or that the captain had refused him, vanished when I saw him follow the captain to the crew.

Our crew was complete, we didn't need another man, which is why I was quite optimistic about Ivar getting rejected, but he had tremendous stamina. When he got something on his mind, he held onto it, no matter how difficult it was, and even if it took a long time for him to achieve. There was hardly anything that he did not claim for himself. Whatever he had done to win the captain over, he was now part of the crew, which meant he would be at sea with us for a long time, on board of a small, overseeable ship that didn't provide much room for a hideaway. Ivar and I would often run into each other and I had the feeling that it would cause a lot of problems. One thing was set as if engraved on stone tablets, I would never be able to forget him. On the contrary, his presence would arouse feelings I had repressed for a long time. It was already difficult for me to keep my distance. It had been two years since I was close to him, let alone exchanged a word with him and I longed for it. Especially now since I saw him physically standing right in front of me.

"Everybody, listen up!", The captain spoke with a raised voice and the laughter of the crew instantly ceased. He grabbed Ivar by the shoulder and squeezed it firmly as he announced the news, “From today on this landlubber here will be part of the crew. He will sail the seas with us, fight, capture and plunder under our flag. - We're well staffed, but we'd definitely like to welcome adventurous, daring youngsters on board of the Rubin, wouldn't we?”, after listening to the captain’s speech, the crew bursts out laughing and roaring, excluding me. If I had the chance to, I would have immediately got him out of trouble. "You are now outlawed, boy - the freedom of the seas lies ahead of you, enjoy it as long as you can!" The captain laughed scornfully.

"Captain!" I cleared my throat. Now I had to sound convincing and at the same time manly enough not to make Ivar prick up his ears. As if it wasn't difficult enough. One crooked tone and my cover would be blown, this time not only in front of the crew, but also in front of Ivar. It was extremely risky to ask for a hearing in this situation, I knew that, but I could no longer stand aside and do nothing.

Since I hardly ever spoke to the captain, he was all the more surprised that I was now standing directly in front of him. My heart sank to my boots as I felt the eyes of the entire crew in me, including Ivar’s and the captain’s. The last time I got so much attention was when I was introduced to the crew and even then, I felt uneasy. I swallowed hard, before I eventually proclaimed my request: “We're already overstaffed, captain! Our supplies are just enough for the crew. In addition, he would just stand in the way, there is no task left that he could take on. That's only wasted supplies, space, and spoil. After all, he is one man more who is eligible of a part of the treasures.", I tried hard to remain standing confidently in front of him. I had never questioned any of the captain's decisions. Under other circumstances I would have held myself back this time too, but the thought of Ivar made me push my limits, especially since I didn't know what he was up to. It could not only harm the crew, who had grown dear to my heart after the long time I’ve sailed with them, but also Ivar himself and I wanted to prevent that.

The captain laughed. He must take me for a joke figure. Taking deep breaths in and out, I tried to stand firmly. The smell of alcohol rises to my nose, no wonder, most of the sailors here were no longer even able to hold their jug ​​upright. At the smell, I felt the rare need to take a sip, to use a bit Dutch courage. "Very true! We are indeed overstaffed, we don't have enough supplies and, as you already said, the ship has no space for another sailor.”, He scratched his braided beard, “I have a better idea! How about him taking your place?”

I did not expect that kind of reaction. Instead of preventing Ivar from joining the piracy, I provoked my own expulsion. My plan threatened to fail miserably. Without a pirate crew there would be no clue to the whereabouts of my family and without a ship I had no means of transportation. I had risked all of that without thinking.

I clenched my teeth with anger. I was now in trouble and I was mad, mad at myself and my own stupidity. “What do you think,” the captain grabbed my shoulders and turned me to Ivar, “which of you two would really be an enrichment to the crew? Obviously, he's not such a wimp (here we go again) like you!”

I bowed my head. First, to avoid Ivar's eyes, and second, because I knew he was right. Ivar was strong, much stronger than an obscure kid like me. I only took care of the inventory and medical care of the men. In the beginning I also participated in fights. I knew how to use a sword, I had secretly taught myself to do it at night behind a bar, but my problem was, I couldn’t, and I didn't want to kill. A human life was far too valuable. How can you sacrifice someone's existence so senselessly? I didn't understand and I never wanted to.

“I'm sure there will be enough space for both of us!”, Ivar said. His voice sounded like music to my ears. The words "I look forward to it", which he had whispered in my ear in that deep male voice, came to my mind and again, a pleasant tingling sensation went through my body that caused my eyes to close for a brief moment. With a smile on my face, I enjoyed the pleasant, warm feeling.

Ivar had reached out a hand, hoping for a forgiving handshake and was waiting for me to shake it, but I didn’t. He was taken aback when I didn't return the handshake and just nodded politely instead. I would have loved to return the gesture, but I preferred to play it safe. During my absence he had surely met some women, maybe it’s been way more easier for him to forget me and all we had, than it was for me, but that still did not assure me that he did not remember my little hands. To be honest, I was hoping he'd remember at least a tiny little thing about me, even though he had every right to want to forget me. After all, I disappeared from his life without a word. Every day I imagined what would have happened if I had stayed, if I had just not paid so much attention to the conversation between him and our foster parents. Each time a different variant of our future came to my mind. Would we be married? Would we already have a child, a young son, or a young daughter? I sometimes imagined us teaching our child how to walk in the meadow in front of the yard, where the cows grazed in the afternoons. If it fell down, it would laugh, and his or her light blue eyes would shine with joy. I was sure our child would have Ivar's eyes.

Whenever I imagined our future like this, I regretted what I had done back then, but then the negative thoughts reminded me of why I had acted the way I did.

                                                            -

I waited longingly for Ivar to return from the market. I always felt overjoyed when I got to see him again after such a long day, but on that evening, I was overflowing with happiness and bliss. After we had finally confessed our feelings to each other and got together, I couldn't wait to feel him in my arms again. I wanted to be enveloped in his body heat and scent again as soon as possible. I wanted to bury my hands in his hair when we kissed. Just the thought of the feeling of his lips on mine made me melt away. They were so warm, soft, and clung to mine as if they were made for each other. After only one time I was already addicted to them, to him. I could hardly wait for him to come back.

It was already getting dark outside. I stood in front of the kitchen window, out of excitement completely forgetting about dinner, and watched the clouds as they rolled by the orange-pink coloured sky. Meanwhile I daydreamed about no less than Ivar to sweeten up the waiting time. I couldn't wait for the daydreams to come true.

When I saw him turn the corner, I was about to open the window and call him. My longing was almost unbearable. But before I could even utter a sound, our foster mother's voice rang out. She sounded extremely worried, and she must have been if she couldn't even wait for Ivar to enter the house. People nearby also took notice of my foster mother's calls and watched the scene for a brief moment before they went back to their own business. Normally Ivar would have come to me first. He would have told me briefly about the events that took place at the market, which were sometimes more and sometimes less exciting, and I told him what had happened on the farm while he was away. He then entered the house, disclosed the revenues to our father, and afterwards the two of them sat down together at the dining table and discussed the following morning schedule before the food was served. Tonight, everything was different. Ivar also noticed our foster mother’s concern and eventually he started to run.

I wondered what it was, that threw our mother in such a turmoil and I wanted to help her, just like she had helped us when Ivar and I were standing completely soaked to the bones and freezing in front of her door and she still took us in not hesitating for even a second. She was always there for us and I tried every day to prove myself grateful for everything she did for us.

I put out the fire of the hearth so that our dinner did not suffer even more damage than it had already suffered because of my dreaminess. To look for my foster mother, I left the kitchen, but stopped halfway and hid behind the door frame that separated the kitchen from the hallway and dining area. Astonished, I listened to the conversation that my mother was having with Ivar. "Look, my son!", Elisabeth, our foster-mother, referred to the article that covered the entire front page of the daily newspaper, "There are important news from the royal family. Your mother, Queen Aslaug, gave birth to a son, your brother!". Queen? I knew he came from a wealthy family, which the noble clothes he wore back then revealed, but I didn't know he came from a royal background. Ivar had never spoken about it, at least not to me. That must be a misunderstanding. Come on, Ivar, say something. My hands grabbed the fabric of the apron I was wearing as I listened tensely to the conversation, which was never meant for my ears.

For a short time, it was quiet in the hallway. Everyone fell silent, including Ivar, even after reading the article carefully he uttered not even a single word. "Ivar!", Elisabeth exclaimed indignantly, as Ivar pushed the newspaper aside and fetched the bag with the money, as if he wanted to move on with the usual daily routine and without paying any more attention to the article. "You can't live like this forever, here with us, on the farm and working for us! You are a prince, you belong to the royal family!", she preached to him, as he emptied out the bag on the table, completely lost in thoughts, and the clattering of the thalers drowned out some of Elizabeth's words. "I'm not going anywhere! My home is right here, you're my home and I'm won’t abandon you", he said, raising his gaze. He looked firmly at Elisabeth and Helge, our foster father. “With the child, the succession to the throne is now taken care of, there is no reason left for me to return!", Ivar said. "You are the child of the first marriage! The son of the once reigning king, to whom everyone looked up! Do not allow your father’s inheritance to go to waste and take the place that you are entitled to, as the legitimate successor of your father!" Elisabeth argued. She just meant well for him. She always wanted only the best for us. "I will never set a foot in that castle again! I will never forgive my mother for replacing my father without further ado! She hasn’t sent out one single ship for us!". I peeped from behind the door frame to Ivar. His eyes reflected the anger and the disappointment as well as the pain that he felt. At that moment I realized where his sleepless nights came from. He had such an infinite burden to bear, the burden associated with the death of his father and that of the rest of his family, for which I felt partly responsible. If only all of this hadn’t happened. His father would still be alive if my father had not attacked him and Ivar would have been in his rightful place, perhaps even king by now.

Now, since I knew that Ivar was not just a noble man, but a prince, I felt very different. My joy was blown away and what remained was the feeling of loss. I did not belong to the higher class. My mother worked as a cook and my father was a pirate. I was the daughter of a pirate, the pirate, because of who Ivars farther, the king, died. So, our relationship was star-crossed. Our future together, which I have always longed for, would remain a dream forever. A relationship between a prince like him and a woman of the lower class like me would never come to a happy end, only to an end full of sorrow and pain. If I couldn't spare him the death of his father, couldn't take away the pain of the past, I wanted to spare him at least all the pain of the future.

"Ivar, keep your father in mind! Do it for him. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted anyone but you as his successor!", because of the ongoing heated discussion, all three of them were distracted enough for me to sneak into my room unnoticed. I sighed deeply as I closed the door behind me. I remembered the morning. I've never been as happy as when he confessed his feelings to me. The memory of the following kiss brought tears to my eyes. The sad thing was not the kiss, it was the thought that it would be the last one. From an early age, I abhorred goodbyes, but none of them hurt as much as saying goodbye to my one and only great love. I have to go, and I have to hurry before they notice me. Just as the tears were threatening to fall, I wiped them out of my eyes. I didn't own many things, so, that saved me from having to carry heavy luggage. I just reached for my cape that was lying on my bed. As I hung it around my shoulders and as I let my eyes wander around my little chamber, a shell catched my eye. The Arcida shell has a unique shape and I liked it very much, even more because it was a gift from Ivar. One day Ivar found the shell entangled in the fishing net and he decided to gift it to me. "Look what I caught, just for you!", he had said as he presented the shell.

I took my only keepsake of him and carefully put it in the little bag I always carried around my hip. In this bag I usually kept several variations of medicinal herbs, which I, if necessary, administered to the animals, such as mint for maldigestion.  

Not only bidding farewell to Ivar, but also to my foster parents was extremely difficult for me. They raised me like their own child, taught me important life lessons, loved me, and stood by my side throughout my life. I couldn't have wished for better foster parents and I would be grateful forever. I hoped I’d someday get the chance to see them again.

Before I finally left the house and the people I loved behind, I took my pen and ink and wrote a letter to Elisabeth, Helge, and Ivar. In the end, I didn't have the heart to leave without saying goodbye to them.

Dear Mother, Dear Father

I'm terribly sorry and I wish I could stay, but I have to go.

I thank you with all my heart for everything you had done for me. You have always been there for me, you have never rejected me, even though you knew where I came from.

I have found a new home and a family in you and I will be grateful forever.

Thank you for everything and may God protect you

In Love Y/N

While I was writing the letter, I couldn't choke back my tears. They ran down my cheeks, but before they could drip on the paper, I quickly wiped them away.

My beloved Ivar

I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday. I thank God for placing you on my way, I just wish it would have been a different occasion that led us to each other.

Ivar, please don't get me wrong, I love you with all my heart, but I fear our love will not have a future. Our destiny is too different.

I know you are destined for greatness and I ask you to promise me that you will follow your destiny, I firmly believe you will succeed. Your father would be proud of you!

I wish you all the best of the future and may God always accompany you on your way.

In Love Y/N

Quickly I wrote the letter addressed to Ivar before stepping out of the window into the darkness. The sun had set about three-quarters of an hour ago. Only the light of the moon and the stars guided me through the darkness.

One last time I looked back before I started running. It’s only a matter of time until someone would notice that I was gone, so I had to hurry up. I didn’t know where I was supposed to run, I hadn't thought about it yet. I just tried to get away as soon as possible, so I ran as far as I could in that short amount of time.

After a while I found myself at the harbor. The wind howled and spread ice cold air. The waves hit the ships, causing them to shake. I stood in the middle of the impending storm, trembling in the cold, looking for a refuge. Trying to shield myself from the cold wind, I covered my upper arms and walked along the harbor. I listened to the sound of the sea and the salty smell of the sea reached my nostrils.

If I kept staying there, in the exact same city, Ivar would sooner or later find me and I knew that if I saw him again, I couldn't bring myself to leave him again. Consequently, I had to leave the city as soon as possible. Coincidentally, I became aware of how some men were constantly carrying boxes on board of a ship. Individual men on deck readied the ship for departure, which implied that this ship would soon be running out of port. This was my chance. So, I grabbed it without thinking too much about it and mingled with the men carrying heavy wooden boxes who gradually boarded. This was the second time I boarded a ship without permission, but this time I made sure it wasn't a pirate ship. It was a merchant ship, which I recognized by the infinite variations of goods. From rare fabrics through to exotic spices, they had everything. The ship would go to several mercantile cities and I decided to jump ship after arriving at the next port.

Before I knew what was happening, the ship had already left the harbor and I officially left everything I connected with the small town behind and sailed towards a new stage of life.

Thank you so so much for reading! Stay safe!😇🧡

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @curvynerdfan @xvxcarolinexvx

[zhonglishrine]

Can i have a oneshot for gogol comforting his crying s/o?

Pairing: Nikolai Gogol x Reader Word Counts: 2.3k Note: Hello anon! Please forgive me for taking a long time to do your request! Since it was the first request on my blog, I thought I wanted to make it special. But I was stuck with writer’s block. So I used my old work before and re-edit it instead so it will be slightly different to match with the request! I’m sorry and I hope you will enjoy it and special big thanks to @soukokuwu​ for helping me proofread this one! Really, thank you so muchhhh <3!!!

It was empty.

In this dark cold continent, there was nothing but void and darkness inside. You either existed or your mind was playing a trick on you. It felt like a grand illusion - that nothing was real. What you were searching for was not there. Nothing you did would ever make you feel complete in any sense. There was always this feeling that haunted you, always reminding you of how miserable and disgusting you were. Gnawed and woven to your very soul like wild ivy tendrils wrapping around your empty heart and kept whispering down to the deepest recesses of your mind.

You were a monster.

You were a demon.

You were a human with no heart.

You were no different than a dead soul.

Then, why were you still alive?

For what purpose were you even here?

You shut your eyes tightly. You wanted to scream and block every deafening sound that suffocated you in this insufferable world. It exacerbated and tightened in your chest the more you struggled. Had it not been your sanity that kept you sane, you would already be consumed by madness. But would it be better if you just let yourself loose? Let it take over and become nothing but a shell of a living monster? Would it be better just to let what remains of you and burn it into a fire of anguish and let it turn to ash? Let it destroy you with the spite and hatred you harbor towards everything?

You were desperate to reach for something.

Anything.

And that was when he came along, when you were at a loss, as though he knew.

"Would you like to join the Decay of Angels?" He had said, with eyes as vacant as yours, but his hypnotizing violet eyes beneath that moonlight was much deeper and darker. It feels like you would lose yourself and drown in it if you were to stare any longer. Yet without exchanging any further words, he seemed to understand the unspoken pain that has festered through your being at that very moment. You looked exactly like a lost child that desperately needed guidance, that needed to cling onto something.

"...What will I get if I join you?"

"You will be free. From your sins."

That was what he had offered. His soothing, saintly voice was like a remedy that could mend your broken soul that needed salvation, which had been beyond redemption at that point. You had nothing to lose and thus accepted his invitation back then, with a little hope thinking something might change. But after so many years, it still remained the same. You were still the same old you. No matter how much you wanted to pretend, you could never fake a smile and pretend to be happy. It felt like it would be hypocritical- like it would only make you lose sight of yourself even more.

Then, what is it that you were searching for, actually?

Why were you still here?

A soft sigh escaped your chapped lips as you stared long at the night sky above. The stars twinkled, a million light-years away from the orbit. Yet you still reached out your hand, as if attempting to pick one and keep it in your pocket in a futile endeavor.

"A beautiful night, isn't it?" a familiar voice chirped, interrupting your time alone. You were never one that liked the companionship of others, but even so, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, he'd just pester you even more and pop out randomly, much to your distaste. He was the last member of the Decay of Angels that you would want to interact with.

"Why are you here?"

"Aww, don't be so cold with me~! I merely passed by and just wanted to say hello to you~" Gogol winked and gave you a finger gun, as though his intentions weren't obvious.

"Bother someone else."

"Ah, are you upset that I'm not Dos?" He smirked as he guessed that.

You felt that he could easily read right through you and you didn’t like it - the feeling of being exposed. Fyodor was a man of mystery, a puzzle that you couldn't solve. You thought of him as someone who understood you and despite the terror associated with his name, he was still someone that you respected profoundly. Not out of fear, but maybe, admiration. But you hated that Gogol was right. You wished you were talking to Fyodor instead of the clown, and Gogol had gotten it right on the nose. And yet here you two were, with different circumstances that bring you two to join the association, even with different goals.

"Shut up. Just leave me alone, will you?"

"Aw... but no one wants to play with me. Even Sigma is busy. But you have been doing nothing but stargazing~ Don't you get tired doing that every night? If it were me, I'd die of boredom!" He flailed his arms in an attempt to get your attention. You cursed under your breath. This clown was too energetic for you to handle.

"None of your business what I do." You replied back to him crudely. But he took a seat beside you anyway, sitting by the edge of the building and swinging his legs back and forth with those comical pointy shoes of his. For someone his age, he acted rather childishly. Though, maybe that's just one of his antics as a clown. But he was the epitome of someone you could never understand. Since you can ever be two-faced like he is.

Gogol hummed. "You always come here, why is that?"

"I told you; it's none of your business."

"Aw. Here I thought that we were friends~" Gogol made it sound like he was hurt by your words.

You ruefully snorted at that, "Funny hearing that coming from you." Did he think you were that naive? Naive enough to think that you two were friends in this organization that was solely established with terrorists that can backstab you at any given moment?

"Is it not right? You've been with us for years, yet you seem so distant. Just like the stars." He remarked while spreading out his left arm to the sky.

"Is that so?" You looked up at it again, attempting to count the innumerable stars, albeit knowing how futile it was.

"Say... why did you join the Decay of Angels?" You posed the question to him, though you weren’t really curious. You just needed something to fill the awkward silence.

"Why, indeed. If I must answer that, why don't you tell me your reason first?"

Reason. You were still unsure about it yet. Why? You had killed so many just for that answer alone but the book that was your mind still drew a blank. Nothing was written on it yet. Was it because you were drawn to Fyodor's words at that time? Had he lured you in with nothing but empty promises?

"Perhaps… I was searching for the meaning of my existence." You curtly answered, but your mind still pondered on it.

"Then, have you found it?" Gogol asked, evincing interest to know as he turned to look at you sideways. There was something between you, something that somehow made you feel connected to him. Both of you were pawns that would soon be disposed of once you have served your purpose. It didn’t scare you, though. You would do what you had to, even if that meant dying in the end. The only thing you were scared of is regret - of not finding what you were searching for in the first place.

"...I don't know. Maybe not yet. Maybe I never will." You said, feigning nonchalance. "Then, what about you?" Now it was your turn to look into his molten gold eye, the one scarred with a vertical cut. Was there a story behind it? You wonder inwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Gogol about it. In the Decay of Angels, every member came from a different background and it was unknown what they did before. If you asked him he might tell, either in a jesting manner or make it overly complicated, like another riddle you had to solve.

"I search for my freedom. Just like a bird that soars the skies without being bound by anything," he replied with a wistful tone and his expression softened, "I am seeking for a perfect freedom, like that."

"Freedom, huh..." You repeated, "you're one strange guy." Indeed, he was. Nikolai Gogol was an enigma himself, just as Fyodor was. As though he was standing between the bridge of psychosis and rationality that he wants to get rid of. You failed at understanding his essence, but you could empathize with his pursuit.

"Funny hearing that coming from you~" He retorted with your earlier words. "But birds and stars, are they not so different?"

"How so? They are two different entities, to start with."

"Because both are up far in the sky, seemingly unreachable for a mortal like us. Even so, we still gaze at them longingly, wishing upon the star, wishing to fly, wishing to escape from this warm, wet hell."

You couldn’t refute that. Technically, he wasn’t wrong.

"Then, have you found it?"

Gogol looked at you again, his eye reflecting every little light in the world that you see. He softened his countenance as if he actually understood what lay within your heart that you tried to conceal.

"Maybe I do. Now that I met you."

Within the span of a second that felt like an eternity, your heart thumped loudly in your ribcage, like he took your breath away at that moment with his gaze alone.

No...

Don't fall for it.

Don't fall for it again.

It would be the same. He would just be like the others. He too, would leave once he saw what was inside - that which was hiding and cloaking you in the darkness, that which enshrouded and imprisoned you inside.

And just like he said, you were exactly like the stars.

You were in front of him, and yet you felt so distant and too far away to reach.

"...It's nice talking to you. But I must take my leave now..." You wanted to withdraw yourself before you started to harbor hope and belief in someone again. Before you fell for it again, only to be tripped afterward. Only to be deceived, left broken, and uncared for years.

But he held you back by your wrist.

"Won't you stay a little while longer, my dove? A star will one day perish, and I would feel so lonely if you are truly gone." His voice somehow pulls the strings of your heart. But you know better than to fall for him.

"Wouldn't it be better? You don't know who I am..." You tried to break free, yet he was stubborn, he didn’t want to let you go. "I am not what you think I am... I'm just another monster who has no heart. You shouldn't get close to me..." Your eyes were already starting to well up with hot tears. The stinging pain in your chest throbbed, each passing second with him made you feel suffocated, as though causing you to drown in your own misery. Inevitable it was that you would bring him down with you as well.

"...Or else, you would destroy yourself too," you warned him,

"You’re either human or you are not, either you are a monster with no heart or not, what difference does it make?" He questioned you back, "Be whatever you want to be. It's your freedom, it’s your life, it’s your call."

"It's easy for you to say that... I'm not like you."

"Then tell me, what do you wish for every time you look at the stars? Have you no will for yourself? Have you not wished to break free from your cage as well?"

"I..." Stumped with his questions, you gazed into his eye once again, tears blurring your vision. Everything that was pent up inside you until this moment felt like it was crumbling, disintegrating into dust. Like waves crashing against the sand, such brittle was your resolution now when faced with his raw, naked, and pure emotions when he took off his clown mask.

"I want to... I just want to escape from this place... from my demons..." You said with a trembling, shaky voice, all the remaining strength in you threatening to leave the more you looked into his eyes. What kind of pain does he hide behind them? Why did it hurt you as much as well? As ironic as it sounded, in this moment, he looked more human than you were.

"Then, I will be the one that frees you from it now, my dove. Go, fly to the stars as you wish." He said and held you near, and contrary to his words that coached you to be free, he actually looked like he never wanted to let you go, yet you felt strangely safe and found warmth in his arms. You felt like you were finally being liberated from that which imprisoned you in that bottomless darkness. Even if what you see is just a glimpse of light. Then, that should be enough rather than nothing at all.

"You are beautiful when you soar free that way."

Two humans. Two monsters. Two beating broken hearts.

Under that starry night that illuminated the sky with constellations, it's like your fate entwined and mirrored each other on how almost tragically similar it was, with the demons that were trapped inside the both of you, seeking solace in each other's existence to remind you that you two were still human beings that just wished to be free.

[whereflowersbloom]

Drunk on the idea of us

Raven was a light sleeper but she was surprised when she woke up in the middle of the night, hearing someone knocking on her room’s door. It couldn’t be an emergency, there’s no way she didn’t hear the alarm first. She slowly rose out of her bed, quietly pulled the door open to reveal, a very drunk Damian.

“You do realize it’s 3:15am and we both have training first thing in the morning.” She sighe trying to process what was happening. This was so unlike him. Whatever was going on it was something was obviously bothering him.

Standing in front of him arms crossed, she noticed how his eyes even if a bit unfocused, were studying every corner of her room until they fell back on her. They always found a way to make her feel exposed. His first words confused her even more.

“You’re so tiny.”

She wasn’t sure she should feel offended by his comment. But then it was her first time dealing with a drunk Damian Wayne. She was distracted by the mixed feelings coming from him when she felt him put his hands on her shoulders, as if trying to find balance. He leaned closer to her. She could feel the heat of his breath on her ears.

“You smell so nice. You always do.” His speech a bit slurred. Raven hid the blush on her cheeks and shock from his words, pressing her face against his chest. She couldn’t look at him. Control. She needed control over the situation. She swallowed , trying to ease the tightness in her chest and focus.

“Why are you really here, Damian? You don’t usually drink like this. You never do.”

He took a deep breath, the alcohol in some way insentisied her essence. He straightened himself up and looked at her. His hands went to her face but he said nothing. Her beauty intoxicated his senses, and he desired her.

Raven exhaled, identifying a feeling of disappointment? What was she expecting? “Maybe you need to rest for a bit, if you aren’t up for talking , huh?”

“I’m not that drunk, Raven. We do need to talk. I know you’re upset, even if you’re trying to hide it.” He said suddenly sounding very serious, for someone who is clearly drunk.

“I’m not upset. I’m simply surprised you’re here.” She shook her head. Realization hitting her. So he noticed.

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t lie to me. We don’t lie to each other.” He said raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Right.

His lie detection ability was inconvenient at times like this. Identifying even micro-expressions. There goes her cover.

“Alright, Boy wonder. Perhaps, I have noticed your secretive behavior lately. I know you and Jon are keeping something from me.” If it was honesty hour. She could use it to get some answers. “Don’t misunderdtand, I don’t mean to pry. I just thought we were...” her mouth hesitated, choosing the word carefully. “...close.”

She managed to sit on her bed, awaiting his response. it was finally out, off her chest or part of it. Somewhere along the way, becoming team mates first, then friends. Friends. It didn’t feel right, good enough to describe their bond. Not at this point anymore or in her heart.

“I was out with Jon, having a few drinks to gather courage. You’re partly right, something did change.” He whispered in the dark.

She heard footsteps coming towards her bed. Immediately, Damian was sitting next to her. “But don’t misunderstand. It isn’t what you’re thinking.” He shook his head and stroke her cheek tenderly. She hoped he was drunk enough not to notice the blush which was painted over her cheeks. Why did drunk people have to be so close when talking? If only he moved a few inches, to break the distance.

“Look, I know I’m not a very open person, specially when it comes to talking about my private life and sharing feelings. But this involves you now. I wasn’t entirely sure...how to handle it. So yes, I went to Jon for advice. I didn’t want Grayson gossiping my private affairs before...” he groaned in frustration. “What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t intend to keep secrets from you. Ever.”

He frowned suddenly, closing his eyes and letting out an annoyed sound. “Fuck. This isn’t coming out right. I knew I needed a plan. I’m messing it up.”

She blinked shocked by his words. Still trying to process his speech. Damian Wayne was sitting on her bed, evidently drunk, asked for advice, now talking about feelings involving her. Oh Azar. Does it mean he feels...? A spark of hope shinning. This wasn’t the same proud, snarky, insufferable kid who joined them years ago. He had changed, matured, she knew. But. Her damn insecurities. Could she trust his words and the meaning behind them in his current intoxicated state? When her pounding heart just wanted to scream ‘I’d take you in a heartbeat’.

She bit her lower lip, thinking what to say, anything that makes sense and let her take control over her emotions.

He opened his eyes, looked down at her face with a different expression. “Don’t do that.”

She was about to reply to his demand when his thumb moved to her lip, forcing her to stop biting her lip. “I can’t focus when you do that.” He whispered softly.

She swallowed a bit, and tried to regain some common sense. When did she start allowing him to touch her? When did this all start? That awkward moment at the Ferris wheel, when she recognized the loneliness in his eyes? She was the one who wasn’t drunk, so she had to think clearly.

“I know this is complicated. But you have to be honest Damian. I want to hear it in your own words. Why did you get drunk?” She asked softly. “I’m here and it’s just us.” She squeezed his big hand reassuringly, smiling.

Damian sighed, his whole body relaxed, feeling the warmth of her hand in his. “Because you’re my kryptonite in some way. Also, because of me and how much frustrating it is not to be able to do and say what I want to you, when I’m sober, analyzing, overthinking everything like a madman.”

“I feel this unbearable tiredness consuming me sometimes. Holding back all the damn time. I swear I want to give it all up, to hold you only for a couple of minutes.” His voice sounded drained. “Oh, teach me how I should forget to think.”

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her gently against him, her head pressed to the warmth of his solid chest. Indeed, she was so tiny next to him. This felt so right and familiar. She wondered how long they would have this moment, if there was something that could make him give it all up, the stress, expectations, worries, just so he could take a breath for once and not think about anything. Have this moment together.

“I like being close to you.” He whispered like a secret in the darkness of her room. “Me too.” She also confessed, smiling softly.

There was a pause, their voices going silent before he spoke again. “ I wanted to kiss you.” He admitted with such raw honesty.

Her breathing quickens at his confession. He was still drunk, probably not in his sane self. She bit her lip hesitating but she wanted to ask. She needed to.

“When?” She breathed out into the dark.

“The first time? I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now. I suppose I finally accepted it, last New Years party. When West was buzzing around you like a fly. His ridiculous attempt to impress you almost made me lose my temper.” He growled lowly, with a bit of jealousy in his tone.

“Damian Wayne gets jealous. Who knew.” She giggled as the memories of that night popped in her mind. Damian looked like he was about to punch someone and Jon was busy getting his attention, convincing him to play a cards game. But even back then, there was only one name engraved upon her heart.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of that frisky speedster. He’s just another unavoidable irritation.” He said annoyed at the thought of the young speedster.

“Almost? And that’s why you almost break his leg the morning after, during training, right?” Raven smirked.

“It isn’t my fault he wasn’t fast enough to block my moves. They do say all’s fair in war and love.” He smiled proudly.

Her mind went back to his confession before. She shouldn’t ask now. She shouldn’t push it. She should wait until he was himself enough to talk about this properly. “Do you still want to-“

“Always.” He answered her question, no hesitation. He chuckles a bit quietly. “I always think about kissing you, and what would be like, before I persuade myself how much of a bad idea it would be. Whenever we are training, enjoying a cup of tea, when I catch myself looking at you longingly, every moment we spend alone. And then once again I think about how good it would feel, because how could it not, when I can’t seem to get you off my mind. Then I scare myself with how badly it could end and ruin us.” He sounded more coordinated now, he was being completely open with her. No filters or holding back anymore.

Why?

She opened her eyes. She knew why. Because it would change everything. Teammates, friends, lovers was taking another dangerous step.she battled with this every time she thought about the possibility of a future ‘us’. But she’d had enough of the potential outcomes and what-ifs.

“I want to kiss you, too.” It was easier to reveal it into the dark. “I would never leave you. Whatever happened or we ended up being. I wouldn’t leave you, Damian.” She said with more confidence she ever felt and realized she truly meant it. Whether they were only friends, broke up, because of one of the millionths of things that could go wrong. Raven liked him too much to let him go. She’d always stay.

He swallowed a bit. He leaned closer to her, he pressed his forehead against hers, still looking at her with tenderness. His vivid green eyes stared into her with passion and desire. He whispered into her ear softly “Stars, hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires.”

Oh. Shakespeare.

He cupped her pale face between his hands and ran a thumb over her lips. “Do you have any idea how insanely beautiful you are?” His touch felt like an electric current running through her body.

“Your violet-blue eyes are the night sky filled with shinning comets.” He said delighted in her beauty.

She should have pushed him away and told him to wait until he was sober. For a long time she didn’t think she deserved a love like this, the passion, the spark, but she wanted it. They both craved it tonight, needed each other like a drug.

She could only be a slave of her own heart and the existence of her love for him. She never had a choice in this, right? Who could resist Damian Wayne?

He whispered words in some unknown language but his eyes spoke clearly ‘You’re only mine.’

He pressed his lips against hers. The moment they touched it was like everything exploded inside her and around them. Raven couldn’t help buy completely melt against his broad chest.

His kiss was wild and heavy, and it caused her to get lost in the feeling of absolute bliss, as their hands run over each other bodies feverishly looking for new skin to touch, grip or pull.

She broke the kiss in need of air. “That was one hell of a first kiss. You should have warned me.” She managed to say her lips hurting a bit from the heated kiss.

Damian smirked “The warning was implied that all is fair game.”

“Oh. When?” She asked as she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“The moment you started biting those addictive lips of yours. Warned you, not to do it.” He looked the happiest she’s ever seen him since he joined them team.

They ended on her bed, lying there, wrapped completely around each other. Her cheeks were flushed, her full lips, had become swollen from their kiss. Damian tracing the curves of her body, slowly before speaking. “As much as I want to continue, I’d rather do this when I’m sober. When we’re both ready. I want to memorize every detail.”

“Does this mean it’s official. Us? We are telling the others about us.” She asked playfully.

“If that’s what you wish, beloved. We will let everyone know.” He said pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But don’t misunderstand, my love. After a customary period of proper courtship, I plan on asking you again. Officially introducing you to my family as my lover.”

“I know.” She said smiling. Thinking about it. Dick and Jon would have so much fun in the next couple of months. The Tower will be a mess. “We will think about it all tomorrow. For now we should sleep.”

Murmuring sleepily, she snuggled closer and Damian slid an arm around her waist. Enjoying the way her curves fitted against him. Their breathing slowed down and finally both dozed off.

***

[wangxiandecoded]

Episode 3

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Seeing Lan Zhan For The First Time

Ever since I saw the fanmade romcom trailer of the show, I can’t get the image of bridegroom Lan Wangji out of my head. His entry is so elegant and his presence throughout the show truly ethereal. (Wei Ying, you’re not even trying to hide those heart eyes. We get it! You’re impressed.)

Lan Zhan’s Character Growth

We only remember Lan Zhan as the guy who reserved all his emotions and smiles for Wei Ying, so rewatching the rigid, inflexible person he used to be kind of drives me crazy. Lan Zhan before he met Wei Ying started his journey as a lone, icy, untouchable snow-capped peak and by letting himself love and be loved by Wei Ying in return, the person he becomes in the end is like a warm, summery mountain shining with life and no trace of the glaciers that thawed over. His character evolution is no joke and it is only because Wei Ying’s companionship makes him more human and allows him to be the best version of himself. Lan Zhan’s arc is one of the best things in the show and the most rewarding reason to watch it.

Did I Just Meet The LOML

Lan Zhan taking note of his future soulmate showing off his intelligence right from the start. But shhh, he’s too much of a tsundere to admit that right now.

But Lan Zhan, What About The 9pm Curfew? 

Notice how Lan Zhan is up late at night waiting for Wei Ying, like a Good Obedient Boy from the Lan clan ready to catch a lawbreaker red-handed. Are we sure he has not simply mistaken his positive feelings for annoyance and found a way to spend more time with Wei Ying?

Wei Ying, my bro, I think you might be the moon in this case.

Flirting With The Law Enforcer? That’s One More Violation! 

It’s cute to watch their dynamics in the beginning, Wei Ying is already so familiar with Lan Zhan, tries to share his drink with him, teases him for the first of many times. And Lan Zhan just looks like “?????? Are you flirting with the law enforcer?! That is yet another violation of the Lan clan rules!”

Wei Ying coquettishly pushes Lan Zhan's sword into its sheath and the chase that comes next is the beginning of something monumental and exciting. 

(I understand preserving the original meaning is difficult in English translation but they really had Wei Ying call Lan Zhan inflexible only to follow it up with a beautifully choreographed fight sequence? Really?)

Wangxian’s First Meeting Is Romantic Cinematography At Its Finest

This scene right here is in my opinion, the most romantic scene to ever exist in all of fiction. If anyone tries to argue that Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are best bros, show them this scene. There is no hetero explanation for why it is so romantically shot. We have seen it countless times in fairytales. This is unmistakably the meeting of two people destined to be in love forever. It stole my breath the first time I saw it, and has done every time since. Like legit, it needs to be on top of those lists that boast the most iconic meetings in romantic history and taught in academic institutions worldwide.

First of all, a moonlit first meeting is enough to immortalize a story in our memory as being inherently romantic. But Wangxian are so effortlessly and picturesquely sword fighting (or should I say dancing?) on the rooftops, hair and clothes gently swaying to the tune of WuJi and thanks to the slow-motion closeups that make them glow like a live painting under the moonlight. 

(And surely I was not the only one who heard this random bell ringing at night and got reminded of wedding bells or the film ‘Your Name’? Lol!)  

We see that neither of them has the upper hand in the fight. This is important because it establishes they were born to be each other’s equals on the battlefield, something Zewu Jun points out later. (Just one of the many soulmate things Wangxian share.) I have no doubt Lan Zhan is freaking out wondering, who the fuck is this guy? How can he match my every strike and step without even uncapping his sword? 

In these above shots, there is a beautiful, unmissable symmetry in the way they are framed that drives it home that they are two halves of the same whole; their paths will be bound together, their perspectives will come to reflect each other. They are one and the same. The way they fight is also kind of intimate and very poetic. The super romantic backdrop and their placement shows that they are in perfect tandem and their chemistry is loud and luminous from the first time they meet. 

There is nothing straight about this scene. Not even the shot angle. Look! 

There is also something quite god-like and celestial about their meeting, like we are witnessing two prophesied immortal beings whose encounter is going to change the fate of the universe. And does it not, indeed?

I think I heard the moon longingly sigh in this scene because she felt so single. Honestly, understandable. It’s so maddening how two soulmates meeting for the first time can turn out to be this iconic, beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking and every other word you can think of. (We’re lucky Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan are used to dancing, the fight sequences are all so graceful. *chef’s kiss*)

I feel like this one scene reduced every straight romance I’ve ever seen to ashes. I’m honestly curious, can anyone outdo this in the future, gay or not? It has become The Standard for first meetings. I envy the talented, creative minds that envisioned and executed it.

TL;DR : The whole scene is drenched with a romantic field of vision meant specifically for the audience to swoon over.

“Lan Zhan!”

Wei Ying drops one of his two precious pots of Emperor’s Smile because Lan Zhan attacked them. Most people would just be mad in this situation but it's the first time Wei Ying calls him "Lan Zhan”. I wonder what led Wei Ying to have such an informality with Lan Zhan, who didn't consider him his friend until much later. It could be that it’s just who they are, two people with opposite personalities. But we don't see Wei Ying exhibit this closeness with strangers and yet he's whining Lan Zhan's name in that classic style of his, right from the first night they meet. Adorable! (Lan Zhan who owes him two bottles of Emperor’s Smile for breaking them spends the rest of his life buying them for Wei Ying.. In case you needed a reason to cry.)

Breaking The Rules & Breaking The Barriers To Lan Zhan’s Heart

Wei Ying actively criticizes the Lan clan’s rules and finds their teaching unreasonable. He thinks drinking Emperor’s Smile when he’s sitting on the roof technically doesn’t count as being “inside” the Cloud Recesses where alcohol is banned. A small detail but it shows Wei Ying’s gift of seeing through the grey areas in morality. It is a trait that ultimately influences Lan Zhan to shed the hard and fast ideas of orthodoxy he was raised on and share Wei Ying’s quest for justice. This makes both of them the only people inside the world of The Untamed who are able to see the deep-seated problems in the existing system and question them. Their love story is inextricably tied with rewriting the laws of their world and if that does not make The Untamed the most revolutionary romance to ever exist, I don’t know what does. 

Lan Zhan Really Just Cares A Lot

Turns out Lan Zhan didn’t let the Yunmeng Jiang clan stay out in the dark after all. Love how he’s Gay Gripping his sword in panic and backing away from Wei Ying because he doesn't want him to know he's a good person whose heart is in the right place. You know, because that's a horrible reputation for his tsundere persona to have. Zewu Jun takes one for the team and blows his cover, which becomes a common occurrence in the show. Wei Ying is also quick to apologize to him like, “I had a good feeling about you!” when we’ve seen he rarely does that with disciples from other clans. 

President In Action

The conversation between Lan Zhan and Zewu Jun needs no analysis and the latter’s triumphant smirk in the end when Lan Zhan walks off is all the evidence you need that He Knows What’s Up. I love how Zewu Jun probably sits around like, "I have to personally do something or my dumbass brother is going to spend his whole life alone, when he's clearly met his soulmate and is too blind to admit it." Thank you, President of the Wangxian club. We do not deserve you.

What Did Wei Ying Mean?

Wei Ying says all the female suitors from all the clans admire Lan Zhan without knowing how cold and rigid he really is, and he doesn’t complete his sentence because Lan Zhan uses the silencing charm on him. What did he mean by this? What were you going to do, Wei Ying?! 

Episode 3 gives us insight into the inception of their romance and we see every moment since the beginning has been tailor-made to tell the audience this is going to be a love story set against fantasy-driven, action-packed odds in ancient China. 

[kkeidawrites]

Her.

The next several weeks flew by and since their second meeting, Alucard and Alia have been seeing one another. Either in the forest or by the creek.

But, as they continued to grow closer, Alucard was having a hard time bringing up the courage to tell Alia the truth. Alia knew that there was something about him that was unlike any other man she has met in the past but, even if he was different her feelings for him didn’t change.

One morning, the two were walking hand and hand as Alia wore a soft green blouse and had a pair of black pants with matching boots. He was leading them somewhere and stopped as he turned to her with a smile.

A blindfold was tied over her eyes and Alia was pouting because she wanted to know where they were going but, the only thing Alucard told her was that it was going to be a surprise.

“Are we there yet?” Alia asked and Alucard chuckled as he moved to stand behind her.

He untied the blindfold and put his hands on her shoulders as Alia blinked for her eyes to focus again.

“I remember you telling me that you wanted to be somewhere where you wouldn’t be disturbed by your niece and nephew. And I thought that maybe-”

“Oh, Adrian!” She turns to him and hugs him, toppling the man off his feet and the two fell to the ground.

Laughing, Alia sat up from her place on his chest and grinned beautifully. Alucard felt his cheeks flush red and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

Returning to their feet, Alia gazed longingly at the little paradise and her instincts suddenly took over. Her booted feet paced over to the shore of the water bank and her wings slowly appeared on her back.

Alucard tilted his head in confusion, why did her wings suddenly appear?

“Alia? What is-wait a moment! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” He blurted out as she was slowly taking off her clothes.

Alia didn’t seem to hear him as she disrobed from her blouse and pants. Her boots followed quickly after and her nude body waded into the water.

Her hands carded through the flowing water as Alucard turned his back to her to give her privacy. This whole ordeal really rattled his brain, why did she disrobe so quickly for?

“Come on, Adrian! Let’s go swimming!” She calls to him, seemingly broken out of her trance.

Alucard felt his cheeks flame red and he shook his head.

“I cannot just come in to the water with you nude! It’s-It’s ungentlemanly!” He tells her, making the woman roll her eyes.

“Come onnnnn! It will be fun!”

“Absolutely not! There are other ways for us to have fun, while we are clothed!”

“Fine, if you come in to the water I won’t look and you won’t look.”

“It’s already too late.” He mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing! I’m not coming into the water!” He says stubbornly.

“Alright.” He heard her say and the sound of water sloshing alerted him, almost tempting him to turn around to see what she was doing.

He was taking no chances though as he kept his back straight and head held high. She couldn’t make him turn around and that’s that.

“Hey!” Alia’s nude form suddenly appeared in front of him as she put her hands on her hips. Alucard yelped and quickly turned away as the fairy followed him.

“Will you just-” he turns again as she found her way to stand in front of him again.

“Adrian!” Turn.

“Stop it-” Head turn.

“I swear if you don’t-” Alucard took three steps forward and closed his eyes, tightly.

“Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes!” She storms up to him and Alucard winced at the call of his full name. She only did that when she was really upset.

“For the love of God, Alia! I will not lay my eyes on you, it’s not only the sake of your chastity but, my sanity as well!” He blurts out then his eyes shot open in surprise at his confession.

Alia tilts her head in confusion.

“My chastity? You think I’m worried about that kind of stuff?” She asks as Alucard allowed his arms to drop. He had yet to turn to face her.

“Well...don’t you think about that? The idea that your significant other should be the only one to see you nude and that your.. first time...should be with someone special?” He asked.

“Nah, not really. If anything, the only people who are innocent in this world is children and even they sin as well.” Alia turns her head to look at her discarded pile of clothes and waved her hand to have them float towards her.

“But, if it really bothers you, I’ll put my clothes back on and we can sit and talk like you said we would.” She smiles at his turned back. Her clothes landed in her arms.

“Thanks for being so generous and selfless about my...forwardness.” She says.

“Being half water sprite and fairy, little things like nudity doesn’t bother me. And I honestly like the feeling of nature on my bare skin. It makes me...one with it.” She sighs in the soft breeze.

‘Don’t turn and look, Don’t turn and look, Don’t turn and look, DO NOT TURN AND LOOK AT HER BEAUTIFUL BODY!’ He screams in his mind.

Hearing the shuffling of clothes, Alia was dressed once more and she retracted her wings to her back as they disappeared in a poof of sparkles.

“Alright, you can look now Adrian.” She tells him and the man slowly turns around to see that she was indeed dressed once more, his heart a bit broken that he couldn’t bare witness to see her beautiful body once more.

“Come on, let’s go sit by the rocks and watch the falls.” She tells him, holding out her hand and Alucard gently took it as the woman pulled him to the rocks.

There they sat for the next couple of hours, talking about random things and even playing in the water, while clothed. (A/N: Ya nasties)

That night, Alucard walked with Alia back to her little house in the forest and he noticed that she had took a step closer to him and tightened her hand that was held in his.

“Alia, are you alright?” He asked and the woman smiles at him.

“Fine, just thinking is all.”

“Uh-oh, that’s never a good sign.” He teases as the woman swatted his arm.

“Shut up, pretty boy.” She chortles.

Once they arrived at in front of her house, Alia walked them to the door and they faced one another, Alucard holding one hand still while the other was folded behind his back.

“Well, this is goodnight. We are still meeting by the old tree tomorrow, right?” She asked. Alucard nodded.

“It has a red streak in the middle and we will meet by noon.” He reminds her and Alia nodded.

“Right, red streak.” She confirms.

Awkward silence.

Alucard then clears his throat and brought Alia’s hand to his lips, where they brushed against her knuckles in a gentle kiss.

“Goodnight Alia.” He tells her and releases her hand to let it drop back to her side.

“Night.” She then folds her arms behind her back.

Bowing to her, Alucard turns to leave but, Alia didn’t want him to go just yet and was quick to jog up to him and grabbed his hand.

“Wait, Adrian.” She tells him and the golden haired man turns to look at her.

The moonlight hit his hair so prettily and his golden eyes looked like stars. Alia was entranced by his beauty. She has yet to meet his mother but, when he told her that she took after him she wanted to know what she looked like. Was she as beautiful as he?

“Alia? Is something the matter?” He asked breaking the woman’s thoughts.

Alia quickly let go of his hand and suddenly felt her cheeks burn.

“Yes! I mean no! I meant-” she takes a deep breath and exhales to calm her nerves and looks to him with determination in her eyes.

“I just...I just wanted to say...” she pauses as she tried to find the right words to say to him.

“Yes?” He asks, anxiously.

“I just wanted to say that...” she felt her body begin to shake.

“That your shirt is wrinkled! You should really get that fixed! Goodnight!” She quickly turns and bolts into her house leaving the dhampir more confused than before.

“Ooooookay.” He says then turns to leave once more without taking one last glance at her house and smiling.

With Alia

She banged her head animatedly against the front door.

“You...big...dummy.” She chastised herself.

Sliding down the door, she pulled her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms over her kneecaps.

“How can you tell your best friend that you have fallen in love with him?” She asks to no one.

Unbeknownst to Alia, the bushes outside shifted dangerously, as five maybe six men came out with weapons bared and yellow teeth pulled back in sinister grins.

“Well boys, looks like we found our little fairy.” The leader spoke as his men cackled.

“Let’s bag her up and get the gold we promised.”

End of Part 4

I do not own any gifs or pictures they are only used for the sake of story telling me the only thing I own in this story is just my ocs that I have created.

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// Bonus!!

[redhawtriot]

Wanna Win? (Kirishima x Reader ft. KiriBaku)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

If you have seen the movie Hitch, you will know where I got my inspo from lollll

HnM💕

Hey I have request on Kiri x f!reader prompt: 3&9 “I think I love him/her” “When I think of my future it always has you in it.”

“I-I think I love her. I don’t know how to tell her, man. I have been thinking about this for days, but every situation that I can think of where I tell her how I feel ends with her breaking up with me, or punching me in the balls, or something…”

Holy shit. Bakugou knew that Kirishima was a hair for brains loser, but he never expected him to be the type of loser that thought with his short hairs. Jesus, was he the only person in this entire fucking school that hadn’t let his hormones think for him? Pathetic, really.

“Do you think that maybe I am moving too fast?” Kirishima pitifully fell back onto Bakugou’s bed alongside him with a deep sigh, igniting a low growl of annoyance from the latter. Kiri payed no mind to the display of aggression as he stared longingly at the ceiling above him, “it just feels so right. I wonder if she feels the same.  It’s just everything about her is so perfect. Her eyes, her hair, her smile—god, her entire body. How can a fucking neck be so hot? I mean…”

As Kirishima sat up and continued with his ramblings, Katsuki honestly didn’t know how many more eyerolls that he could withstand before the optic nerve that held his sight together tore off. Oh, well, at least he wouldn’t have to see his best friend—damn, it felt so lame to think that this groveling idiot was his best friend—could fall apart so easily over a damn girl.

You know what? It was almost like that stupid ‘Toostie Pop’ commercial. You know, that one with that bitch-ass nerd owl?

How many idiotic sentences does it take before Bakugou looses his shit?

One,

Two,

Three,

‘SMACK!’

The sound clapped against the walls of the dorm room as Bakugou swatted his friend on the back of his hard head, “I get you it, you idiot!” he screamed before settling back into a state of grump,  “I don’t understand why you are telling me all of this shit! I sure as hell don’t have anything to do with your creepy ass pining! I am not Y/N!”

Suddenly Kirishima got a hopeful look in his eye that Bakugou did not appreciate, “That’s it!”

“No.”

Kirishima laughed proudly, “I have an idea!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes once more, slightly hoping that this would be the one to end the torture, “Well, I don’t wanna hear i—”

“You can pretend to be Y/N, so I can practice how I am gonna tell her that I love her!” Kirishima threw his hands up before settling them into a gratified crossed position—a smile plastered onto his expression as if he had just had the eureka moment to solves all of life’s issues.

Bakugou was almost at a loss for words— almost. This was Katsuki Bakugou after all, “Do you ever listen to yourself, dumbass? Like really listen?”

“Oh c’mon, Bakugou! Please!”  the red head threw his hands up into a pleading position as he prayed that his friend would help him, “It’d mean the world to me. I just… I really like her. I don’t wanna mess things up. I need you to let me know if I am coming on too strong, or not strong enough. It has to be perfect for my baby girl.”

Bakugou felt a chill filled with disgust run down his spine at the corny-ass pet name, “Okay fine! But only because I don’t want your sorry ass loitering around in my room when you fuck up and get your heart broken,” he scowled.

“Yes!” Kirishima shouted as he held a victorious fist into the air, “You’re the best, man!” He suddenly fell into a bout of seriousness as his expression became determined, “Okay, picture this: I take her to the first place we kissed—the community room kitchen counter—and…”

Hold the fucking phone. Bakugou’s face shriveled into a level of disgust that he had not yet reached before.

Matter of a fact, hold all of the fucking phones. The kitchen counter? You mean the one that he uses every god damned day!?! He just ate his fucking rice at that counter!! For fucks sake.

The blond boy was hardly even listening at this point as the mental imagine of you pressed up on the counters in the downstairs kitchen buzzed around and infested his mind.

“…I am thinking I wake her up at like 3 am and set some candles down there. You know? To set the mood. And then--”

“JUST FUCK ALL THAT CORNY STUFF!” Bakugou screeched as he tried to shake the scarring sensual images out of his mind, “You storm up to her and knock her off her weak ass feet. That’s it. No kitchen, got it? Be straight up with her and don’t hold back.”

“That was… actually not terrible advice,” Kirishima gave him a small, appreciative smile.

Marginally offended, Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the red-head, “Shut up. So, what are you gonna say?”

Kirshima earnestly thought for a moment, leaving Bakugou to hold back a quip of “don’t hurt yourself” as silence engulfed the two boys. Finally, just as Bakugou was about to snap at him to hurry the hell up, Kirishima spoke up with a soft smile, “You’re a beautiful woman. You’ve made me feel like more of a man than ever. I love you,” as Kirishima finished, he tried to fight the genuine smile that spread across his expression as he searched for approval in his explosive buddy’s eyes.

He found nothing of the sort,

“LAME,” the blond buzzed and gave a thumbs down.

“What?!”

Bakugou didn’t even falter in his reasoning, “That was trash. Try again.”

Obviously a little frustrated, Kirishima searched his soul for a different choice of words. He began once more, this time a little less sure of himself, “I… think of you in everything that I do. When I am busy, when I am free-- every single thought leads me back to you. When I think of my future it always has you in it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Y/N.”

Once again, as Kirishima searched Bakugou’s crimson eyes he was met with a disapproving glare, “Look. If you’re not gonna take this seriously then stop fucking wasting my time,” Katsuki snapped.

“Bro, I felt good about that one!” Kirishima stood up from the bed and threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Bakugou followed him from the bed, “Do you want to win her over or not, idiot?!”

Of course Kiri did! But... He wasn’t sure if this was the way to go anymore, “W-well,”

“DO YOU WANNA WIN OR NOT, SHIT HAIR?” Bakugou barked as he shoved a rough finger into the other boys chest.

“I WANNA WIN!” Kirishima screeched with resolve, his manly aurora radiating from his being. Bakugou’s eyes were filled with fury as the two men hyped each other up,

“YEAH?”

“HELL YEAH!”

“ALRIGHT THEN!” Bakugou smirked at his handy work, “I AM Y/N FUCKING L/N! NOW, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH Y—”

“What was that noise?” Mina question from the couch beside you. Yao-Momo and Jirou also spoke up about the noise coming from upstairs, causing your heart to drop a little in mortification.

You could recognize that scream from a mile away. You sighed as your circle of friends one-by-one realized that it was indeed your boyfriend, Kirishima, making all of that noise upstairs.

Well, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. He could honestly be doing one of his workout videos…

As soon as you heard Bakugou’s voice enter the mix, your heart dropped. Well, so much for that theory. Mina spoke up, “Maybe.. you should go check on them?”

You pitifully obliged and went to check on the two knuckleheads.

You could very easily hear the deranged screaming of the feral Bakugou from the other side of his door “…NOW GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND MAKE ME…”

You nonchalantly gave two quick knocks before twisting the doorknob and swinging the door open—fully prepared to beat some blonde and red-headed ass for making you come all the way up here.

“What are you two—” your words were caught in a gasp as you witnessed your boyfriend aggressively tackle Bakugou into a rough kiss. Your mouth instinctively opened to scream, but nothing came out but a high pitched and strained squeak.

Bakugou almost instantly blasted Kirishima in the face, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” you had actually never heard Bakugou’s voice like this. It was almost as high pitched and frantic as yours as the smoke from his attack set the building fire alarms off. Water began pouring from spouts on the ceiling.

“K-kiri!” you exclaimed—the two boys finally recognizing your alarmed presence, “What the fuck!” you cried out in shame.

The boy’s red hair—now soaking wet—clung to his horrified expression as his face flushed into a deep red to match it, “Y-Y/N, You make me manly. Every thought, everyday leads me to my future w-with you in it… Marry me?”

“God dammit.” The sound of Bakugou slapping his forehead echoed throughout the room as water dispersed from his dripping figure.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Beautiful War

-dragonswithjetpacks

Chapter Six: Appealing to Val Reous

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read here on Ao3

The sun was just setting behind the city of Val Royeaux when they caught its glory at the top of a small hill. Agreeing that approaching the gate at dawn would be a better idea, the group made a small camp while enjoying the view. Orlais was particularly green this time of year. The ladies in the city would be wearing pastels and flowers. Not to mention, showing as much of their breasts as they possibly could get away with. It made Claira smile. She was never found of fashion. But the springtime cakes they made were always so delightful. Though their smell was more satisfying than the taste.

"You've been quiet," Varric implied as they rest.

"I'm always quiet," Claira disagreed.

"It's been an unsettling type of quiet."

"I didn't realize there were different types of quiet," she shaved off a piece of meat roasting over their fire.

"You keep looking at the city. And heaving that big sigh of yours."

"I'm finding it odd that you watch me enough to notice I have a particular sigh," she chuckled to herself before she took a bite of her meal.

"People who are easy to read are always fun to watch."

"I'm not that fun to watch," she said between bites.

"Normally you aren't," he propped his elbow atop his knee. "But you got this particular look growing on your face the closer we get to the city."

"Because I never thought I'd be going back to Orlais," she shrugged. "Let alone Val Royeaux."

"You've been to Val Royeaux before?" Cassandra was suddenly interested.

"My mother is Orlesian, so we visited on a few occasions. But I've lived in Val Royeaux. Twice in what I might consider my adulthood."

"Ah, yes, Lady Helena was from a smaller lesser known nobility," the Seeker recalled.

Claira had not spoken of her mother in so long that it was almost off-putting to hear her name. They had not made contact in some time. And the most recent letter she received was about Jordan's missing persons. There were never any pleasantries with Helena; it was always demanding and berating. The woman needed complete control.

"She hates coming here," Claira added. "I'd like to think it is because it reminds her of how fake she truly is."

"Then it must bring you bad memories," Cassandra empathized.

"Quite the opposite," Claira smiled, looking out longingly to the city. "Orlais was the beginning of my freedom."

"Do go on," Solas joined the fire at last. "I'm sure we've all been waiting for a glimpse of your youth."

"You've been locked up pretty tight, Herald," Varric agreed. "I think it's your turn for storytime."

Claira turned back to her party, all of them watching and waiting with bright eyes. It was the first time she was able to share any sort of personal information regarding herself. On the other hand, she had gotten to know them quite well, even considered them friends. Indeed, being back in Orlais brought up memories, both good and bad. As a child, she never had a chance to speak without being shut down. And as an adult, she realized that she had shut herself down as a defense. But here, in a place that had sparked her new beginning with the people she had learned to trust, she felt safe.

"I was sent to a girl's school when I was young. Around the age of fifteen."

"That late?" Cassandra seemed surprised. "And so far away?"

"I was not a compliant child," Claira laughed. "I had many house mistresses that found me unreasonable. Eventually, I was sent to Starkhaven. But the headmistress stated she couldn't help, either. Even as my wild side was gradually tamed, I was still clumsy, homely, and awkward. It didn't matter how polite or intelligent I was... I was considered a lost cause."

"How absurd," Solas appeared disgusted.

"I was sent to Orlais in hopes I would return a lady. But because of my age, the teachers were harder on me. It was almost torture. Most of them were cruel. But they allowed me to study in peace if it meant not having to deal with me. And the books in Orlais were incredible. I could have been a scholar with all the time I spent in that library."

"Why didn't they just transfer you?" Cassandra inquired.

"My mother was spending a good amount of my father's fortune making sure I didn't come back home until I was guaranteed a husband. I think eventually their goal was to find a nobleman not necessarily suitable for me, but willing to settle. I was never interested in marriage, though. I was set on becoming a warrior at a young age. So I left the school."

"By left, you mean snuck out?" Varric questioned.

"Snuck out would be putting it lightly," Claira laughed. "I planned for weeks to get out of that place. And when I did, I ran until I couldn't see the city anymore. I found a place to lay low. And that's when I met my mentor."

The party was quiet, listening to the campfire crack as she paused.

"Most have just assumed I was a typical Trevelyan Free Marcher. But I was never part of that life or the Chantry. I was never even given the option to become a Sister. Looking back, that's probably what I should have done when I left the school. Instead, I left with a strange man who told me I could achieve my dreams of becoming a warrior. It was stupid of me to trust him. But I'm glad I did. I trained under him for many years while traveling. He brought me back to Val Royeaux to the Academie in hopes I could be knighted, allowing me to live a life I had truly wanted."

"I should have known," Cassandra shook her head. "I imagined with the reputation of the Trevelyans that you were just a natural fighter. But there's no mistaking your stance is Orlesian. I always meant to ask."

"So that means all those nobles from Orlais that come by speaking their language and talking with that snooty tone... you can understand them?" Varric asked.

"Oui," Claira smirked. "Chaque mot. Every single word."

Varric let out a loud burst of laughter.

"This would have been useful information," Cassandra was still in shock.

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise," she shook her head. "Besides, if Josephine knew, she'd have me speak to the nobles more often."

"Isn't she giving you lessons?" Cassandra pressed.

Again, Varric rolled over in a fit of laughter as Claira half shrugged, half nodded. Solas remained silent, although very much enjoying the conversation in itself. And no one stopped Claria from speaking about her adventures in Orlais from that point. They only interrupted her to ask questions, much to her liking. It was the first time she had spoken about it to anyone, not that it was a secret. The more she told of her rebellious childhood and the harsh ways of her mother, the more she realized how much mental abuse she had been through. She couldn't imagine being that cruel to anyone.

************************************************

The gates into Val Royeaux were surprisingly empty. Claira remembered merchants and travelers flooded the archway into the city. Peddlers and pickpockets loved the area, as many people stopped to linger there to admire the stone masonry. Now, only a few people were scattered through the walkway. Claira was not the only one who noticed the lack of others.

"The city still mourns," Cassandra observed.

A couple who had been speaking quietly amongst each other passed by them innocently. However, once they caught sight of Claira, their jaws dropped and their eyes widened behind their mask. They took off in a slight run toward the open gate without daring to glance back.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are," Varric jested.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric," she retorted.

"My Lady Herald!" a scout greeted them from the city.

"You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?" Cassandra questioned without hesitation.

"The Chantry mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars."

"There are templars here?"

Claira felt her chest grow tight. The intention was to meet with the Chantry, not the templars. They would have eventually attempted an audience with them, but this was too soon. She was unprepared. They continued walking through the entrance as they were informed of the current situation.

"People seem to think the templars will protect them from…" he faltered."...from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you," the scout continued.

"They wish to protect the people? From us?" the Seeker was still confused.

"We expected this," Claira stated.

"From the Chantry, yes. But I didn't expect the templars to make an appearance."

"The people may just be assuming what the tempalrs will do. I've heard of no concrete plans," the scout confirmed.

"Do you think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?" Varric added his sense to things.

"I know Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra explained. "I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred."

"We’re doing all this to get help with the breach. Maybe this is our chance to get the templars on our side," Claira attempted to remain optimistic.

"Perhaps..." Cassandra wasn't convinced. "Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed."

"As you say, my lady," he placed a fist over his chest and trotted off to exit the gates.

As they progressed through the walkway, a group of guards began to observe them. They were not quiet about their conversation and there were hints of the Inquisition harboring murderers. It appeared the city was relying on the templars to protect them from their heresy the Chantry was spreading any misinformation they could. It was horrible timing, she had to admit. And it was going to be difficult to proposition both sides while they were standing next to each other. It wouldn't be as simple as uniting under one cause. This was going to be a political battle.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"

Mother Hevara, one of the Chantry members who was supposed to be greeting the Inquisition shouted on a stage in the center of the market as they approached. Standing next to her were two other sisters. And in front, a wall of templar guards. Many of the citizens had gathered before her. Claira recognized a trap when she saw one. Even if it had no teeth.

"Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! No servant of anything beyond her selfish greed," the sister preached.

The crowd of people parted as they passed. The plan was to antagonize The Herald to the point of attack. With as many people surrounded her to witness the savagery, the trial would be quick. But Claira was smarter than that. It was almost insulting how stupid they assumed she would be. If they wanted to cause a scene, she would most certainly give them one. Claira was aware of how Orlais truly operated.

"We came to you in peace, only to talk," she spoke loudly, but calmly. "But this is what you choose instead? I implore you: Let us sit down together, to deal with the real threat!"

She turned to the common people who were too intimidated to move, looking many of them in the eyes. They gazed upon her as if she were a mythical being of wonder. It was a mixture of both awe and fear. Claira seized that moment and bolstered her voice.

"Do you know everything the Maker commands? Look up in the sky! I alone survived the Breach ... and I can end it!"

"And this is how you gain favor with Orlesians... with who can put on a bigger show..." Varric muttered under his breath.

"It appears to be working," Solas whispered back.

"It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!" the Seeker added, looking to the templars for a reaction.

"It is already too late!" Mother Hevara pointed to the templars who were now taking the stage. "The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this Inquisition and the people will be safe once more!"

Claira was not prepared for her next act. However, the scene was ended abruptly when a templar approached Mother Hevara. It appeared as though he was going to escort her off stage. Though, she was quite wrong. Instead, he struck the Chantry Mother across the face, sending her to the hard stage floor. She cried out, but no one moved to help her. A templar hesitated, only to be held back as Lord Seeker Lucius entered the stage.

"Still yourself. She is beneath us."

The templar looked unsure but still did nothing. Claira moved forward, but Cassandra quickly grabbed her by the arm. Something seemed very wrong, but there was not enough time to act upon it. There was not enough information to pick a side.

"What's the meaning of this?" she questioned instead.

"Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own," he looked down on her.

"So you're here to deal with the Inquisition?"

"As if there were any reason to."

His ambiguity made Claira's skin boil. Cassandra tightened her grip.

"Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with-"

"You will not address me," he interrupted his fellow Seeker.

He motioned to the templars and they began to shift as he walked away. Cassandra was taken aback. Her grip loosened on Claira's arm. They exchanged glances at one another, both suddenly very concerned. It was a far reach, but Claira began to hope this was some sort of play they stumbled into.

"Lord Seeker?" Cassandra was still confused.

Lucius stopped, clearly agitated. Looking into his dull eyes made his presence even more heavy and dark. This was not the man her cousins had described, nor the reasonable person Cassandra claimed him to be. Months ago, when Claira was traveling to the Temple with her cousins, she remembered hearing them discuss the discontinuing of the Nevarran Accords. Lucius inherited the role and ideas of his predecessor, but it was commonly accepted that he was more than willing to compromise.

"Creating a heretical movement, raising a puppet as Andraste’s prophet," he finally confronted them. "You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine."

The words were far more dangerous than any threat he could have given. Lucius was now a tyrannical man with a lust for power. He wanted recognition, for whatever reason. Which was fine on its own. However, he wanted to destroy his adversaries so that he may rise from their downfall. The Chantry, the mages, the Inquisition; they were all beneath him.

"If you’re not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches?" Claira retaliated.

"I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh," his voice lowered, making it all the more unsettling.

"You openly refuse the Herald?"

"You have nothing. No influence, no power, and certainly no holy purpose."

His assumptions burned at her like a hot iron. It left marks that made her clench her fists in rage. There was nothing she could do. She could say no more. She could not lash out. She could not even move without risking her good nature. This was not how she intended their meeting to be. She felt like a child once again being beaten by her mother. She felt helpless.

"But Lord Seeker…" the hesitant templar spoke ."What if she was truly sent by the Maker? What if—?"

A higher-ranked office stepped between the templar and the Lord Seeker. "You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!"

"I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void," Lucius drew attention from the crowd. "We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing."

The Lord Seeker made a point to look fiercely at Claira as if it would weaken her soul. Something was reaching for her behind that stare. But it was not enough to break her. It only added more fuel to her flame. She prayed there would be a time they would cross paths again without any spectators.

"Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

The market was still, all but the sound of clanking armor as the templars left Val Royeaux. It wasn't just the Inquisition left stunned, it was quite literally everyone who had witnessed the horrifying affair. As the sound of their marching fainted, whispers began to rise from the people.

"Charming fellow, isn’t he," Varric was the first to break their silence.

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?" Cassandra almost shouted in frustration.

"I thought you knew the Lord Seeker?" Claira turned to her, almost angry at the information she had been fed.

"He took over the Seekers of Truth nearly a year ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to grandstanding. This is very bizarre."

"It doesn't look like he can be reasoned with."

"There must be those in the Order who see what he’s become."

"We can investigate once we return to Haven," Claira assured. "We still have the matter of the Chantry."

Mother Hevara was nearly forgotten. After the templars openly denounced the Chantry in front of everyone, no one bothered to help her off the stage. They only stared, whispering to one another and spreading the rumors even further. But now that Claira was able to get to her without being barred, she was at her side. The Sisters stepped back, still feeling threatened by the Inquisition. Despite the vile glare the Mother gave her, Claira assisted her onto her feet with gentle hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Hardly," the Mother replied roughly. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra."

"We came here seeking only to speak with The Mothers. This is not our doing, but yours," Cassandra replied.

"And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself," the Mother's fight had returned. "Now, we have been shown up by our own templars in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered into the wind, along with their convictions."

"I understand the hardships the Chantry has faced," Claira spoke. "But you'll find no pity here."

"Just..." the Mother sighed. "Tell me one thing: Do you truly believe you are the Maker's Chosen?"

"Whether by the Maker himself or by fate, yes, I believe I was chosen."

"I suppose it is out of our hands, now. We shall see what the Maker plans in the days to come."

"Take care, Mother Hevara," Claira gave a slight nod.

The Mother nodded back, only out of common courtesy. Claira could feel her death stare watching her back as she left the stage. She made her way through the market, Cassandra and others following close behind.

"Well, at least we've been able to calm one side of the three-headed beast," Claira sighed.

"For now," Cassandra replied. "The other clerics are another matter. Either way, we should return to Haven and inform the others."

Claira opened her mouth in response, but the familiar sound of a blade cutting through the air caught her attention. he held her hand out just in time as a whistling sound brushed by her ear. An arrow from a balcony above shot straight into a small spot where the dirt was showing through the stone. There was a letter tied to it with a single red ribbon. It looked like one of the ribbons used for the Inquisition's missives. The party looked upward but saw no one.

"Not just yet," Claira grinned. "It looks like there are others to appeal to in Val Reouyx."