#All the things that are left unsaid between them. All the love and sacrifices they made for each other that are never shared. Parallel line

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Parallel Lines and Brothers.

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[geekgirles]

Yumalia's Reunion

Back on my Yumalia brainrot, I can't get over all the layers and depths of their brief interaction in episode 11.

The moment Yugo is done defying his mother and forced to watch her leave, for she had long made her choice, Amalia doesn't hesitate to reach out to him and hold his hand, which Yugo immediately squeezes right back. Even with the threat of imminent war for her people's safety, Amalia's first instinct is to go to Yugo and offer whatever comfort she can, and he just lets her because if there's someone who can ground him, it's Amalia.

That's exactly what she did at the end of season 3. Not only did she tell Oropo he would never be Yugo because Yugo would never willingly or knowingly sacrifice anyone for his cause (even during his fight with Ad during the OVAs he always thought his brother would eventually come back), but she unknowingly dissuaded the fears and insecurities that'd been plaguing him throughout the entire season, both regarding his past actions and his own relationship with her. Because even after all they'd been through and his insecurities hurting Amalia deeply, she still chose him, and she still reaffirmed her love for him in such a way it would allow for their interactions in season 4 to be that much more openly affectionate and less restrained.

But not only that, back then she was also there to ground him when Oropo's passing and his absorbing of the Eliotropes overwhelmed him, helping him see all the good despite what they had lost.

And she is doing that yet again when they finally reunite.

But there is so much more going on here. So many emotions running deep between them.

Look at Yugo's expression, that mixture of surprise and awe etched onto his face. I feel like this is the moment where it truly clicks for him just how much he's changed and all the possibilities his new body entails, especially for their relationship. And Amalia is just happy, happy that he is alive and happy that he can finally see and feel like the great king and warrior she always knew was already there.

For the first time since he's met her, Yugo doesn't have to look up to meet his love's eyes, and you can clearly see how the mere thought takes him aback. But I believe there's so much more to it, so many things left unsaid.

He's looking at her like she's finally within reach, and not only because now they're closer in height. Yugo had to spent the last few years of his life watching how the love of his life grew into the most beautiful flower in Sadida's garden, into a queen, while he remained stuck in his child-like body, with only a title for show despite he too being royalty.

It's all in his eyes!

He isn't just looking at Amalia. He is staring at her like a dying man stares at his salvation, like someone who's been wandering in the dessert for ages looks at an oasis. And it's not just because they might finally have a shot, but because she is there and she is real.

Despite Yugo's unrelenting optimism and will, upon being captured by the Nécromes, a part of him had probably been forced to accept he would never see Amalia again, either because he would remain the last of his days as their prisoner, or because she would too fall soon.

Given his predicament, thanks to Oropo and Qilby's intervention, Yugo was most likely running on adrenaline when he noticed the portal in the Sadida forest and what it would mean for Amalia. His mind was set on protecting her, not on the fact that they would be reunited after such a horrible ordeal. And I don't think it really sunk in that he would see her again until she touched him, until she literally became tangible and attainable.

But she is real, and she is with him, they are together again. Only this time, they might actually get to be together.

Look at such level of intimacy! Such tenderness mixed with the underlying unbriddled passion they feel for one another! Yugo might have been shown being okay with revealing his wings to his friends, but he always took the hood off himself; but not with Amalia. With her he trusts her enough to let her do the honours and all he can do is melt under her touch.

Seeing Amalia again after being held prisoner in the Nécroworld and forcibly aged has allowed Yugo to fall in love with her all over again and, more importantly, to finally allow himself to love her with his whole being in return. No more holding back, no more second thoughts, no more take-backs. No more denying themselves what they have been desperately yearning for.

He loves Amalia and she loves him. And he's going to hold onto her for as long as they both live.

And I am so not normal about them.

[missmists]

First bookbinding project a success. I think that my cat approves because he would not stay out of my photos. Five months in the making, but I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

I started with @armoredsuperheavy's amazing fanbinding tutorial to create a typeset of each work in @erisenyo's Burning Bright AU published on Ao3. Then had to reread the works in the new format and edit as I went to make sure everything was formatted correctly, (combined word count somewhere around 1.3 million) that took over a month all by itself.

I picked up a copy of Introduction to Bookbinding & Custom Cases by Tom and Cindy Hollander from my local library, to look at some detailed how to images and get multiple perspectives on construction methods. Excellent book, I do recommend.

My hunt for materials included a trip to Detroit with a side stop at Blick to look at decorative papers in person. Blick and the fine people at Hollander’s ended up having everything I needed to make covers. So between my brother kindly 3d printing me a punch cradle, making a DIY sewing frame of my own invention (courtesy of scrap lumber and a trip to the Lowe's hardware department), and three reams of late night printing, I managed to amass all my supplies.

Folding three reams of paper into signatures (the little bundles you sew together) takes about five days if you don't want to lose your mind or your place, and longer if you discover you need to fix things because that definitely happened. Then you get to unfold them to stab holes in them which is as terrifying at first and therapeutic by the end as it sounds.

Next came weeks of sewing books together, a magical process. I learned three new knots, repeatedly stabbed myself (because all forms of creation forcibly demand blood sacrifice) , and felt like I was roleplaying a monastic librarian from the time of Gutenburg. That's 600 years ago, 24ish generations, over 8million ancestors since then (by geometric progression, which excludes the possibility that any of my peasant ancestry is from small towns which is you know likely but I digress) and here I sat sewing pages together in a basement because story is the most sacred of human arts as it binds communities together and shapes perceptions of the self and our brethren, of outsiders allies and enemies, of the world as we know it and as it may come to be. Did I mention sewing books felt magical.

Then came the glue. So much glue. Multiple types of glue. All sticky. all stuck to me. I smeared glue with my fingers like a child.

At last it was time for the covers. Choosing combinations of the decorative papers and bookcloth and making sure I could get enough out of each material for what I needed. Precise cutting so many thanks to the architecture school professors who showed me how to properly cut chipboard. Then measuring and gluing, and more measuring, and more gluing. At last press a little groove by the spine and repeat eleven times.

Then I get to impress all my people with my latest and possibly coolest maker skill unlock, I am a book binder.

Bottom to top in the stack or left to right at the bottom are: These Things Written  These Things Unsaid with Without Consent These Things Known with A Third Chance (or a First) Oh, The Way Your Makeup Stains My Pillowcase That Love You've Been Looking For  All I Need Is To Be Struck (By Your Electric Love) To Open Every Door to Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun (my favorite) Love Is In the Hair (fanart of this one originally lead me to read the series, thanks @ash-and-starlight) Lessons in Proper Asset Management Tangled Up With You  To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved)

[bullet-prooflove]

Hey Donna I'm sorry if I'm sending a double but can I please get #3 for once, you let go Of your fears and your ghosts with criminal joe

References to upcoming fic Love Letter

Criminal!Joe:

The Wolf - Joe meets his queen in an unexpected place.

Reward - Joe rewards you for your loyalty.

One More (NSFW) - Joe ruins you when you display your devotion. 

Pictures of You (feat: Mike Duarte) - Mike discovers you’re alive.

Bleed - Joe learns the story behind your scars.

Flowers (feat: Mike Duarte) - It’s been a long time since Mike has bought you flowers.

Use Me (NSFW) - Joe surrenders to you.

Red Flag - Terry thinks your a red flag in Joe’s operation.

You don’t say I love you, the truth is you don’t believe in it anymore. You haven’t since Mike abandoned you, leaving you in the hands of your captors. You’d lost everything during that year, you were broken, brutalised, ruined. That sweet naïve girl, the one who used to grow roses on the veranda is gone and all that’s left is you, a survivor, someone who refuses to end up being fucked every night by five different men for a handful of cash that she won’t even see.

When you’re sold to The Wolf you see your opportunity. You’ve heard from the other girls that he usually takes one of his newest acquisitions to bed, the prettiest one. You just have to make sure it’s you. Already you have an advantage over all the others, they haven’t experienced the horror that you have, they aren’t as hardened as you.

You have class, pedigree, emotional intelligence.

You think The Wolf must get bored of these girls, their compliance.

What he needs is a woman, one who knows how to please a man, how to make him feel wanted.

You don’t expect him to be handsome, his dark eyes that burn like coals as he tips your chin up and looks into your eyes. Every other woman in the room looks away, but you meet his gaze. He likes that, the defiance in you, you can tell. It’s what earns you a spot in his bed.

You ruin him that night but he ruins you too. You don’t expect to want him, to end up on your back with his head buried between your thighs as he devours you like you’re his favourite fucking desert. You certainly don’t expect to come, twice.

He surprises you even further in the aftermath. He draws you to him, holding you close. His thumb trails over the scars that are etched into your skin and you find yourself relaxing for the first time in over a year.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall in love with you, you see it in his eyes when he looks at you, the way he smiles when you walk into the room. The problem is, you fall in love with him too. You see the man beyond the legend, the one that was forged through years of violence and abuse. He’s a survivor just like you.

You try to fight it, to resist because loving someone else means giving up your power and you can’t do that, not after everything that happened to you.

It’s the letter that changes things, the one Terry gives you. Seeing those words committed to paper, knowing that Joe was willing to sacrifice everything for you, you realise you can’t leave those things unsaid.

He’s sitting at his desk when you enter his office, closing the door behind you. He looks up distractedly from his laptop, his dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Mike has given him a problem to solve, coupled with the information you'd supplied he's going to track down the men who hurt you. It's simply a matter of time.

“Mi amor?” Joe questions as he watches you approach.

You slip into his lap, the hem of your dress climbing a couple of inches as your thighs straddle his hips. You cradle his face between your hands, your nose trailing along the length of his as you look into his eyes. Your fingertips ghost over his cheek and you can see the adoration this man has for you, it’s written on his face clear as day.

“Mi Amor.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I’m going to find them, I’m going to…”

You silence him with a kiss because you don’t care about that right now, you just care about him, that he knows how you feel, that you meant what you said back in Mike’s restaurant.

“I love you.” You say fiercely, your gaze fixed on his. “I will love you until the day I die.”

@plaidbooks @misscharlielulu @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @magic-multicolored-miracle @rosaliedepp @cycat4077 @deekaag @cixrosie @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatesqcrush @mydarkestsecretlol @upsteadlogic @wooshwastaken @imaginecrushes @kiwiithecrazybird @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @alwaysachorusgirl @telepathay @weiwei0210 @anaferreira-4 @dancingonthebeachatdawn @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @trublu2u @yezzyyae @thiashazzywriting @altsvu @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @collegegirl83

[madsworld15]

Part 5 of still unnamed Asexual Spectrum AU (QAF)

The next day, Justin wore his best pair of jeans and a light blue button-down with his dark navy cable knit over it. This sweater was one of the few things he had left from his parents. It was Brooks Brothers. The only reason he knew that was because his mother made sure he knew it when she gifted it to him for Christmas his senior year. Justin knew the sweater probably made him seem pretentious, considering the event, but it was the only nice sweater he currently owned, and he wanted to look his best.

Justin had no expectations of selling any of his art. None of it was particularly spectacular or even meaningful to anyone outside of himself. Except maybe the one of Brian, but Lindsay was the only one who truly cared about it, and she wasn’t able to afford the price tag. She had told him as much yesterday when he had returned to the center with Emmett. Justin had already decided that if it didn’t sell today, he would gift the drawing to her. If anyone deserved to have it, it was her.

He was nervously standing in front of his section of the exhibit when he looked up and saw his mother enter the center. He hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day his father handed him $2000 and told him that if he insisted on continuing with his disgusting lifestyle, he could leave. So, Justin had packed up a few of his things and left. That day, his mother hugged him and told him she loved him and that she would talk to his father. Nothing came of that, and so Justin and Mrs. Taylor hadn’t spoken since August. Five months of complete silence from the one person Justin had thought he could always count on.

“Mom?!” Justin accepted her hug, shock still evident on his face.

“Oh, my sweet boy!” His mother’s lavender scent permeated every cell in Justin’s body as they continued to embrace. “Daphne told me your art was going to be featured. I had to come and see.”

“Why haven’t you called me back? I tried calling you a couple times these last few months.” Justin asked, vulnerably barely above a whisper.

“Justin.” His mom’s voice held so much unsaid emotion, and he knew the response that was coming. “Your dad. He is adamant about his decision.”

“Then what are you doing here? How’d you explain it to him?” Justin steeled himself against the tears that threatened to fall.

“He’s in Aspen for the weekend. He says it's for work, but I know it’s not.” She looked away from Justin and toward the art on the wall behind him. “Oh, Justin! This is beautiful.” 

She stood before the sketch he had made of Molly at her dance recital. There was a sadness to her that Justin had never seen before. His mom had always been strong, stoic, and proud. But the woman before him was fragile and cracked. He knew that he was to blame for that. If he’d just stayed in the closet, his father wouldn’t have made her choose between her husband and her son.

“Yeah, I drew this right after her recital back in July. The last thing we did together as a family.” Justin stepped forward and silently forgave his mom for the sacrifices she had to make. “I miss her.”

“She misses you too.” Mrs. Taylor turned to her son and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “She asks me at least once a week when your father is going to let you come home.”

“I’m sorry. I caused everyone so much pain. That was never my intention.” Justin started to apologize but stopped when his mom moved her hand to his chest.

“We’re getting a divorce.” 

“What?” Justin shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of the news. “I can’t let you leave him because I messed up.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not leaving him because you messed up. He did. Your father was wrong to cut you off from us completely. I’m just sorry it took me this long to see it.” His mom pulled him into another hug. Justin could feel the tears escape before he had the chance to swipe them away.

They were still hugging when Brian walked over. Justin wasn’t even aware that he’d even come. But there he was in all his glory. It was the first time they were face to face since the night they kissed, right before Christmas. And here he was, crying. Justin pulled out of his mom’s embrace and quickly wiped his cheeks to divulge them of any tear tracks. 

He cleared his throat, “H-hello, Brian. Shocked to see you here.”

Brian gave his signature smirk and tucked his tongue into his cheek before he responded. “I heard that a local artist had drawn the likes of me. So, naturally, I had to come check it out.”

“Of course.” Justin tucked his lips between his teeth and softly chuckled.

Mrs. Taylor cleared her throat and gave Justin a pointed look. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled before he turned to Brian.

“Mom, this is Brian. Brian, this is my mom.”

“How do you know my son?” Justin’s mom asked as Brian shook her hand.

“He works at the diner. We all eat there from time to time. You get to know one another. It’s a small community.” He gave her his most charming smile, but when he looked over her shoulder to Justin, his look changed. There was something charged about the way his gaze bore into Justin’s eyes.

“Yeah. Brian works for a local ad agency. His best friend’s mom is my boss.” Justin let out the breath he’d been holding and added a bit more context.

“Like I said, small community,” Brian whispered and then ducked his head.

“So, Justin. Tell me about these other pieces.” Justin turned his attention away from Brian, who was now studying the sketch of himself, and back to his mom.

“This one here is called The Graveyard Shift. It’s of the diner where I work. My boss typically picks up that shift because no one else wants it. That’s here, there.” Justin pointed to the drawing positioned to the right of the one of Molly. 

“I had no idea you were working at a diner.” Mrs. Taylor whispered, her tone dripping with awe for the talent her son displayed in his art. “I figured you had to be working somewhere. I just never expected it to be a diner.”

“I needed to join the gay community here. For myself.” Justin took his mom’s hands in his and looked her in the eyes, begging her to understand.

“Of course.” Mrs. Taylor removed her hands from Justin’s only to wrap one of her arms around his shoulder and took in the next two drawings, his still lifes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Justin just smiled and didn’t say a word. Brian was still standing there staring at the drawing of himself and Gus, but Justin didn’t care if the man heard every word. It was important to him that his mom had shown up. At first, he was ready to murder Daphne, but now that they’d had a chance to talk, Justin could see she loved him. There was still so much they needed to talk through and work out if she ever wanted to be as big a part of Justin’s life as she used to be, but her showing up today was huge. She knew it, Justin knew it, and from the subtle smile on Brian’s face, he knew it as well.

“Justin!” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the breathless exclamation of his mom, who had just reached the drawing of Brian. Justin smiled to himself, knowing that she loved it as much as he did.

“I drew that a few weeks ago, right before Christmas.” Justin tried to nonchalantly shrug it off as no big deal. 

But then Brian did something unexpected. He wrapped himself around Justin from behind and muttered against his ear, but loud enough that Justin’s mom could hear, “You got every detail correct. All the way down to the expression on Gus’ face when he eats.”

“Is this you?” Mrs. Taylor addressed Brian. 

He didn’t let go of Justin, but his face pulled back a bit in order to respond. “Your son drew me and my son.”

“This truly is a work of art.” Mrs. Taylor turned back to stare at the drawing once more. 

Brian pulled Justin away from his mom and over to a corner of the room where barely anyone else stood. Justin wasn’t sure what Brian’s intentions were, and Justin didn’t know if he’d be able to stop him if the older man decided to kiss him again, especially not with what Brian was wearing. The man was dressed in a form-fitting black sweater and a pair of nice but tight slacks.

“Why do you look as though you are going to shit yourself?” Brian finally asked once they were alone. “I’ve been watching you since I arrived, and you’ve only become more distressed the more time passes.”

“What?” Justin was expecting any number of things to come out of Brian’s mouth, but concern for him was not one of them.

“Did I use any particularly hard-to-understand words?” Brian teased.

“You’ve been watching me?” Justin’s voice came out in a squeak.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you say it like that, I sound insane.”

“Well, I’m not the one watching people.”

“No, you’re just the one crying and looking distressed. Is it your mom?” Brian put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and looked him over critically. “Because I know how to handle crappy moms.”

“My mom is fine. We just…” Justin sighed, his throat closing up and tears forming in his eyes once more. “FUCK.”

Brian didn’t say anything or remove his hand from Justin’s shoulder. He just let the blonde process whatever emotions he needed to process in order to get the words out. Justin was grateful for that.

“In August, my dad kicked me out of the house with nothing but a small bag of clothes and things and a couple grand in cash. My mom tried to stop him, but he told her she had to choose.” Justin licked his lips, “She chose him. Until now. Now, she said she’s divorcing him and that she’s sorry.”

“Do you believe her?” Brian’s voice was calm, quiet, and gentle. Something Justin was still getting used to hearing from him.

“I want to.” The ‘but’ Justin wants to say remains unsaid.

“But her initial reaction and choice hurt you.” Brian finished his thought correctly.

“Yeah.”

Brian moved his hand to cup Justin’s cheek. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Justin’s lips. “You have to do what brings you happiness. Who cares what anyone else thinks.” 

Their foreheads connected as Justin closed his eyes and tried to get his racing heart under control.

“I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I should be running away, but all I want to do is get closer to you.”

Justin took a few deep breaths before he responded. “And I meant what I said. I may never want sex.”

Justin pulled away from Brian entirely and headed over to chat with Debbie and Lindsay, who were by the drink station. He needed to clear his head. Being around Brian was never good for the logical side of his brain, which he needed for this event. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” Debbie greeted him with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s a very nice lady.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.” Justin shrugged his shoulders; he couldn’t hide anything from Debbie, so he decided that he didn’t even want to try.

“Justin,” Just then, his mom was there. Before he turned around to face her, Justin plastered a fake smile on his face. 

“I have to go pick up Molly from a playdate, but I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Your art means something.” She wrapped him in a hug.

“Thanks, Mom,” Justin replied, letting her hug him tightly. He never wanted the safety and security he felt in her arms to go away, but as soon as they pulled apart, it did. To be replaced by the uncertainty her presence now brought.

After she was gone, Justin turned back to Debbie and Lindsay, who stood there in sympathetic silence. Then, he was wrapped up in Debbie’s arms once more. This time when the tears fell from his eyes, he let them.

“She came. That’s a big deal. Forget that she hasn’t spoken to you in months. She was here today, of all days, to support you. Remember that. She loves you.” Debbie whispered sagely.

Justin spent the next hour walking around and mingling with the other artists on display. He learned that the GLC offered free art courses in a studio from time to time, but that for more advanced artists, the time in class was better spent working on something else. Justin made a note to look into attending these free courses once school was on break for the summer. He had almost managed to make it through the rest of the show without another interaction with Brian when the man cornered him. 

It was ten minutes to the end, and Justin was back to standing near his art. Brian sidled up next to him with his signature mischievous smile on his lips.

“You know, I heard a tired old queen telling his friend that your art lacks a certain sex appeal.” Brian gently nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own.

“Did you now.” Justin smiled. The two stood side-by-side, not even making eye contact.

“Yes, but clearly, they hadn’t seen the drawing of me because I ooze sex appeal. Even in charcoal.”

Justin shook his head and laughed. “Never lose your self-entitlement.”

“Are you finally admitting you find me charming?” 

Justin didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because a moment later, Brian continued.

“Never lose your artistic eye. You see the world differently than most people. You always manage to find the nugget of goodness inside everyone.”

“It’s something that could get you any job you want once you graduate. Even in the art department at Ryder.” Brian finished, and then he was gone. 

Later, when Justin was taking down his art display, he was informed that someone bought his drawings of Molly and Brian. He couldn’t be sure who bought the one of Molly, but he’d bet big money that Brian was now the proud owner of his sketch of him and Gus.

[prettyiwa]

13 December 2018 | 02:13

(previous) | (next)

Iwaizumi had come to Japan after being contacted by the JVA thanks to Ushijima’s recommendation, not expecting to be contacted by your parents when your dad suffered a massive heart attack.

Your cousin left a bit ago to pick you up from the airport and he’s anxious, both for the outcome of the emergency surgery and to see you for the first time in months. For the first time since officially courting you, they had finally said “yes.”

It came in the form of the hospital staff asking him to leave if he wasn’t immediate family—a request made by your mother—only for your father to brokenly tell them that Iwaizumi’s their future son-in-law. To make certain, he asked one final time, adopting dogeza in deference:

“Please allow me to marry your daughter.”

All he had wanted was to do right by you, by your parents, by his. While the two of you may not be sticklers for tradition, they are. And he wants for you to have a relationship with his family as much as he would like a… cordial relationship with yours.

“Haji.”

It’s a breath of fresh air, the first thaw of the snow as it makes way for spring, the warmth of a cackling fire after a day in the cold. A whispered devotion full of words long unsaid, full of emotions long since bottled. It’s you.

He doesn’t care for Japanese customs or propriety—if anything, he can blame it on living in California for the last couple of years. Standing abruptly, he starts in your direction, allowing for relief to wash through him, for love to fill him. Opening his arms, you readily fall into him, readily accept him, openly ignoring your cousin’s blatant disapproval of such public affection.

“I—fuck, Hajime. I didn’t expect to see you here, for you to still be at the hospital! Oh, shit. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” you cry into his chest as tears begin to fall in earnest. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left things the way I did. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” he murmurs into your hair, glad to have you so close. “I, uh, I was already planning on staying until visiting hours officially open in the morning. I don’t know what you had planned on doing, but they probably won’t let me or Michiko enter.”

You still in his arms, reading the air, understanding what Iwaizumi isn’t saying. “Is she still here?”

“I believe she’s trying to sleep in your father’s room. Kicked up a nasty fuss when they tried to get her to leave,” he tells you with a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah. That sounds like her. Will… will you come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”

After spending so long without you, he doesn’t want to let go so soon, prepared to agree to anything that allows him to be close. When you get to your father’s room, he waits outside. He tries not to listen to the soft words spoken between you and your mother, but there’s one piece of dialogue that he can’t ignore.

“We approve of him. Whatever happens today, know that we approve.”

“I—I don’t know what to make of that.”

“I would hope that you would take that as our blessing, but, knowing you, you wouldn’t have cared either way,” your mother bites, releasing some of the pent-up frustration on you. After a beat, she says, “He loves you.”

“I know,” you reply, voice a little softer than before.

“Do you love him? I imagine you must, with everything you were prepared to sacrifice for him.”

You’ve never said it aloud, not to him, anyway. He never needed to hear it, never needed it to know that you care, to know that he wants to be with you for however long you’ll have him by your side.

All the same, his heart stills with your answer.

“Yeah. I do.”

over the course of 24 hours masterlist | haikyuu!! masterlist

[filesbeorganized]

Hyacinthus

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Author’s Note - Start: This fic falls under the series My Garden of Love, which is part of the submission for Celebrrration in Tumblr. The accompanying song for this fic collection is “Flowers” by Hadestown.

Celebrrration Day 1 Prompt: Angst

Warnings/Tags: Celebrrration submission, developing relationship, flower language, canon typical violence, songfic

Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komuram Bheem

___

What I wanted was to fall asleep.

Close my eyes, and disappear.

Like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air.

___

They walked in silence afterwards.

The smell of smoke and blood still hung in the air. As if it’s sticking into their pores. The elated, ecstatic adrenaline high they rode during the battle had died down. All that’s left now is the tense silence and unsaid regrets. Particularly, Ram’s regrets.

Ram’s gaze veered to the side, where Bheem is leading the way. After about the tenth time this happens, Bheem finally turns to Ram at the same time, catching his gaze.

“Are you alright?” Bheem asked.

Ram nods, not sure exactly what to say, how to explain all these things.

“Want to sit down?” Bheem leads them to the nearest clearing. He sat Ram down and started fussing over him.

“Just tell me if you get tired,” Bheem said as he checked on Ram’s bandage. He opened the clothing covering the wound and poured fresh water down, cleaning the angry gash that ran down Ram’s hand. He had mistaken Ram’s frequent looks as Ram’s signalling that he’s tired. Well, Ram is tired, but those gazes mean something else.

“These wounds are quite bad, you know. It makes sense if you feel tired. We should get into where your Babai can pick us up soon. Then you can properly rest. At the camp, we can get Seetha to care for you. You’ll be good in no time-” Bheem continues.

At the word ‘Seetha’, Ram unconsciously flinched.

“Ah, sorry,” Bheem’s hand retreated from his skin, “It must have hurt. I should have been more careful”.

There it is again. Apologies. Ram stares at Bheem, trying to convey whatever his heart wants to say without words. As per usual, it fails miserably.

“You must have been excited to see Seetha again,” Bheem raves without any awareness that Ram is inching closer to breaking down completely.

Ram steels himself and says, “No.”

It came louder and harsher than what he intended. Bheem’s expression looked slightly hurt and Ram rushed to correct himself.

“I am excited to meet Seetha,” Ram assured him, “but it’s not you who should keep apologising, Bheem.”

Bheem throws him a confused look.

“I didn’t share any information with you, so how could you know what cause I’m working on?” Ram steadied his breath, “If I did not trust you then how can you trust me?”.

Ram can see the gears running in Bheem’s head.

“But still Ram,” Bheem said slowly, “I should read between the lines or something. I should have known you’re not the type of person to…to-”.

“To what? Stole a child? Kill a fellow countryman?”  Ram’s breath got ragged, “But I am that type of person, Bheem.”

Memories flooded Ram’s mind. The people he had brought into the unforgiving jaws of Imperial British. The families he separated and destroyed in the name of greater cause. It should have meant something. Those sacrifices, it should not bury his morals six feet underground. Because he’s working towards something good, right? So why does it feel so wrong, each time he makes those sacrifices?

Every night he went to bed haunted by the vision of sacrifices. And in the end waited his mother’s eyes, its gaze filled with accusation and blame. As if saying: All this blood. It should have stopped with our family, Ram.

No matter how many times he countered its implicating scrutiny, repeating that he’s just trying to do his best, to fulfil his father’s wish, there is not a day where Ram can go to sleep peacefully.

But Bheem’s eyes harden, “I just…I have never been this close to anyone. This friendship is the most important thing I have in years. I just felt like if our relationship meant anything, I should be able to feel that you did not want to harm me. I should have helped. I could have helped.”

Oh, but he did want to harm Bheem. He was so over his head, years of Babai reminding him that their existence was solely tied to his father’s mission, that in that moment. On that balcony. All he wanted to do was to capture Bheem. Because he was so close to completing that mission. He was so close to ending the nightmares and guilt he had to endure.

“Why can’t you just accept that I’m a sinner?” Ram was fully conscious that his voice had become relentless. He was spitting word after word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. And truth be told? It is bitter. “Why can’t you just accept that I am a traitor, a- a scum! A self pitying monster that believed he was deserving of your friendship! The friendship that I threw away so quickly for my goal? For my benefit?!”

Ram chokes on a sob, “Why can’t you accept that from this entire world, you are the last person that owes me an apology? Because I’m rotten through and through, Bheem. I’m unworthy of your friendship. I’m unworthy of your company. But I’m so selfish, so greedy that all I want to do is to hoard your affection. To receive and receive your kindness, no matter how I know that once you understand who I am, you’d be so disgusted that you ever was associated with this, this-” Ram’s trembling hands gesture wildly over his whole person.

He misses Bheem’s worried eyes because right then Ram doubles over the earth. Somewhere between collapsing and prostrating he clench his left chest, where the gripping pain comes and goes. His tears soiled the earth as he vomited out his words, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Bheem, I’m-”.

For a moment, nobody makes a noise. The rustling of the wind meeting the leaves died down, it was almost eerie. The only voice echoing over and over the forest path was Ram’s weeping sound.

Ram heard a faint rustle and then it was Bheem looming over him. He brought Ram up so they were both sitting on their knees. Then he pressed their forehead together and let out a small sigh. Bheem’s arms came up to Ram’s sides and he held him tight until the pain in Ram’s chest subsided.

It was this again. It was Bheem again that collected him up, and became strong for him. It was Bheem again that soothe his pain and silence the resentful noise in his head. It was Bheem again that gives him undeserving kindness that makes Ram want to curl up into the earth and cry until the world vanishes.

“I won’t apologise again if that makes you this miserable, Ram,” Bheem offered, his voice soft and calming, “But know this. I did not resent you. I was confused beyond words when I thought that you were betraying me. But even as I thought that you were just doing those horrible things for your own benefit, not for a greater cause, even then I did not resent you. Because I cannot resent you. Never. If I forgot how to love you, then I must’ve also forgotten how to breathe.”

Ram drew an unsteady breath, “But why? I’m not deserving of any of that.”

“There’s no rational reason for this. It’s just because,” Bheem’s lips quirks in a smile, “It’s just because you’re my friend. It’s just because I love you. It can’t get simpler or more intricate than that. It’s simply just because.”

Ram felt the last of his tears roll down his cheeks and drip into the soil. He was unsure of what to do with this information, but he nodded and opened his eyes.

There’s no lies or deception in Bheem’s eyes. Every word has been true.

Truly, truly he is not deserving of Bheem’s presence in his life.

Bheem rose and smiled brightly, “Right, then. Shall we continue our journey?”.

Ram nodded again. Then Bheem is helping him get up as well. His feet slips on something and he almost falls backward had Bheem not caught him. They locked their eyes, and Ram felt his breath get shallower, his heart beating a little faster.

The moment passed. They both steady themself and Ram reluctantly lets go of Bheem’s hand.

Bheem coughs, “What did you step on anyway? It’s quite dangerous out here, huh?”.

Ram stares down at his feet and finds smushed flowers under them.

Because of course he just has to destroy everything that is beautiful, flowers included.

Bheem just kneels down and inspect the cluster of flowers grown on the forest path.

“It’s a hyacinth,” he murmurs, glee in his eyes. Ram’s not sure how fond Bheem is of flowers, but he will pay good money to see Bheem looking happy like this for the rest of their lives.

He knows he’s staring at Bheem as his friend digs up several of the flower’s roots, ripped some of his clothing, and wrapped a bunch of the plant and some of the soil inside the cloth. Bheem waves his little package at Ram and grins.

“Souvenir!” he said.

Ram can’t help but to return the smile.

Then they resume their walk home, Bheem still leading the way. He chatters about Seetha waiting for Ram, and how Ram must be missing his village a lot. Ram just hummed an agreement here and there. His mind is still replaying the moment as Bheem catches him.

Perhaps one day he’ll have enough courage to return all the love he has been given by Bheem. Perhaps.

___

Author’s Note - End: Purple Hyacinth symbolises sorrow caused by a mistake, also means asking for forgiveness. The word is derived from "jacinth" meaning blue gemstone. In the myth, Hyacinthus is the object of affection of both Apollo and Zephyrus. Apollo then insulted Zephyrus after Hyacinthus ultimately chooses Apollo over Zephyrus. In rage Zephyrus kills Hyacinthus. After his death, Apollo turns Hyacinthus into the flower Hyacinth.

Tagging the mods @stanleykubricks and @fangirlshrewt97 and the blog @celebrrration in case my Tumblr went nuts again.

Credit to @dumdaradumdaradum for giving me lots of fun facts throughout the making of this series.

[lufecu01]

MY thoughts after reading acosf

Being mean and cruel does not make a character badass

Being feminine and having a hobby doesn’t make a character boring

Saying a character is the kindest of all yet failing to see that kindness in the book?? Idk, she only seems polite to me.

Nesta got on her knees for Amren and begged for forgiveness, but she couldn’t even voice a thank you to Feyre?

Trauma is not an excuse to treat others like trash

Nesta being there for Elain her whole life even when she was severely depressed and traumatized, only for Elain to get mad and basically abandoning Nesta when she’s dealing with her trauma her way does not sit right with me

Acosf was a healing and growing journey, not really a redemption arc.

House of wind stairs plot. Do I need to say more?

Giving up powers you didn’t want in the first place to save someones life is not a sacrifice

She shouldn’t have given up her powers

Eris and Nesta intrigued me more than Nessian

The scene w Lanthys showing Nesta him and her together was kinda…hot

Villain Nesta could’ve been so powerful

I would absolutely love Nesta if she treated both her sisters the same and was cruel to everyone else

Feyre is severely underrated in her own series

Idk how I feel about Feyre locking Nesta in the HOW and being compared to what Tamlin did.

“Elain is Elain” what??

I wanted Feyre to snap at Nesta and bitch slap her AT LEAST once

I feel like so much was left unsaid and swept under the rug

I think I liked Nesta more in acowar than by the end of acosf

Idc, Nesta should’ve apologized to Feyre

Loved the Valkyries friendship so much more than Feyre, Mor, and Amrens

Acosf made me sympathize w Nesta, but I still don’t like her

Azriel stopped loving Mor after 500 years bc of Elain just like that?

Elain doesn’t owe Lucien anything but at least a formal rejection to him. Where’s that kindness?

She was asking Amren about turning human again, i think she would’ve asked how to sever the bond long ago.

Lucien wouldn’t invoke a blood duel.

People think there’s something between Lucien and Vassa but not Azriel and Gwyn?

Elriels relationship is like “🙂” in my head

Mixed feelings about Azriels bonus chapter

Him and Elain obviously have feelings towards each other, but how would that play out in the long run?

Elain would always have that bond w Lucien, Azriel probably has a mate out there, his shadows skittered away from her, I’m trying so hard to like them. They just give me the ick together.

How do his shadows work?! They run from someone and dance with another persons breath?

I really want a Tamlin redemption…

Elain was semi curious about Lucien in Acowar (while still being in love w Graysen, even after having recently experienced something traumatic) and after she just completely ignores him??

I don’t blame Az for thinking sexually of Elain, but dude couldn’t think of anything else?

Also don’t blame him for wondering why she’s not his mate since his brothers are mated to the sisters

He could’ve at least said he has feelings other than lust towards her idk

Why did he avoid the question ab Mor?!

Gwyn could definitely be a lightsinger(highly doubt shes an evil one though)

Cassian gifting the symphonia to Nesta is the sweetest thing ever

Ok but what if Gwyn asked Azriel if he sung bc she heard a faint singing before (like Azriel did after talking to Gwyn) and it’s actually their mate bond singing (music between their souls) or something. Idk maybe I’m reaching

Will not apologize for this:)

[frequentderealizationcore]

A short Nerdanel fic that can be read as a sequel to the Maglor one I guess?? One day I will write dialogue, who knows when though.

Statutes were not alive. They did not call to her in voices now silent, they did not call her mother, or my love. Statutes remained by her side, never seeking purpose beyond reminding her of those she lost. Statutes did not die.

Nerdanel is weary, a weariness detached from physical labor and work, a tiredness sinking its claws deep into her very being. She is weary, yet she works, and she surrounds herself with soundless stone.

It is a difficult thing, trying not to dwell too much on memories of ghosts chasing one another in the house, on phantom laughter echoing around her. Or how when the sunlight hits a specific corner, she thinks she can see a form, tall and proud and familiar, looking at her with a featureless face. Featureless yet somehow conveying all that was left unsaid between them, after he denied their bond and denied her even her youngest child.

Nerdanel tries to avoid having her gaze wander about after those moments.

When she cannot look at the walls, she looks at her hands. The hands of a sculptor and creator, marked with the signs of her hard work and talent. And yet also marked with scars of a different nature, from when her eldest tried to copy his mother, and had ended up almost injuring his hand had she not interfered. Scars of protecting and guiding those who were- are most precious to her. Scars of a mother that are both visible on her skin, and buried beneath layers upon layers of fragile stone, deceptively solid and so close to crumbling.

She wonders if she even counts as a mother  now, with those she had guided and protected being so far away and unreachable.

Findaráto returns, and Nerdanel is happy. Truly, she is glad to see his parents and Indis rejoice at his return, he is noble and heroic, he deserves his second chance after his sacrifice to protect and help others. Her children had done many wrongs, they will remain in the halls for many ages.

It is not unfair, they should face judgment and be released when it is their time.

It is not unfair, but she is indeed still a mother, and not as strong as she appears to be, her house feels too empty for her to be rational.

Statutes are not alive, they do not answer when spoken to. They do not hold her as she sobs, at a time when she thought she saw her eldest guiding his brothers through the garden. Nor when she wakes up frantic, thinking she heard two infants crying, but finding no cribs, and no trace of life or joy in the barren space.

Statutes were not alive.

Nerdanel considers them more alive than she will ever be after her losses. She does not mind, she will wait, and she will hope.

[strfe]

❝ perhaps in another life, we'd meet under better circumstances, ❞ he begins, amber hues filled with the glimmer of recognition. he had not expected to see anyone else there, on the anniversary of his former pupil's death. the blond who stood before him had gone through much since their last meeting, having bested a world-ending would-be god and prevented his bloody apotheosis. zack was right to have seen greatness in him. it was thanks to his sacrifice that the two could stand where they were now, and it was hard not to miss his presence. the chevalier places a bouquet of lilies near his storied broadsword, now a gravestone in the middle of a wasteland. ❝ for what it's worth, i miss him too. ❞

' under better circumstances. ' that's one hell of an understatement. still, he'd be lying if he tried telling himself it wasn't something of a bittersweet dream. he shifts his weight onto one foot, trying and failing to hide his shaky composure. ( it never gets any easier, huh ? ) loss is something he's wrestled with these past few years. anger at the universe. at himself, for not being strong enough. though the anger has dampened with time, the ache in his chest remains. it's a rotten, persistent thing, and on days like this it's all the more difficult to ignore.

to say cloud misses him is also an understatement. he's still trying to fit those pieces of himself together; the ones he lost back then, and the ones that zack took with him on that day. visual & auditory hallucinations are something of a distant memory to him now, outside of nightmares. lucid dreams that would play out while he's awake, threatening to blur the line between reality and fiction. ( something he'd rather not find himself wrestling with again ) despite this, he thinks:

' if it was him, today, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. '

—— c'mon, get a grip. if there's one thing zack wouldn't want for him, he can be sure it's going crazy again on his behalf. finally, he lifts his gaze to the quaint bouquet fluttering in the breeze. he was never a great lover of flowers before her, but finds himself able to appreciate their beauty in small ways now. cloud thinks to ask where angeal's love of plants stemmed, but he absentmindedly finds his attention fixed on the rusted metal marking the grave before them.

" yeah. " he speaks. short, reserved. perhaps betraying his emotions, just a little. if there's another thing zack wouldn't want today, it's his friends crying over his grave. bearing that in mind, he huffs a sigh from his nose & lifts a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. there's so much he's left unsaid to both those alive and dead. he dreads to think how he'll even get through half of the living part, but figures he may as well start now. " ——that sword ... "

with the slight rise of his shoulder, cloud nods to the blade standing before the both of them. he wonders what it means to angeal now. what memories he has of it that cloud might not. ( before a time where all it knew was violence, wielded by a man not himself. not anyone at all. ) his gaze trails off some, almost sheepish. " sorry 'bout that. i remember... he mentioned it meant a lot to you. "

[enginire]

@nightcars: the truth of the matter is that i will never love anyone as much as i love you. you have never chosen me. we’ve done horrible things to one another, but for some reason, i still end up here in front of you… looking at you. wanting you. in love with you.

there is no winning in sacrifice. it's an open maw, deep and purple, like a wound that opens time and time again under the faintest pressure. any sacrifice is acceptable if it leads to the propagation and preservation of life — wiIford's order demands it. (that's what they live by — the tight, hard-wrapped book in the corner that denotes every single act, every single process that maintains control and reason up and down the train. it's thicker than a bible, and littered with its own thou shalt nots, and it outlines, in heady, precise detail, the level of self-stripping and ultimate penance required.)

there are things left unsaid between them. meIanie shifting out of bed late at night, offering a sad sorry, audrey as she gathers her teals from the pool in the corner, or the whispered phone calls with the engine, or the stone-faced shift in power from one end of the train to the next. there are things left unsaid that threaten them from the inside out, and draw a hearty schism between them when the pressure boils and bubbles under the already-cracked surface. it comes out in a rant, a misplaced frustration that turns her stomach cold the moment it settles between them. audrey wants time, and meIanie has none. no time to sleep, eat, breathe, think — she wants to breathe, she needs to breathe, she needs to sit and hope and wait for something easier to come along and so the rock splitting her shoulders in two doesn't push itself down any further and she needs to be able to do that without this without any of this without the arguments and the hurt and the interrupted nights and —

that settles it a little too finally.

from then, it's an irritation — a jilted ex who'd rather not see her in the confines of the nightcar. the barring, the deserved scathing comments. you've grown cold doing wiIford's bidding, you used to try and make a difference strikes something deep in her that she's been desperately trying to avoid while keeping her head up for air. truth hurts, right?

"i'm not going to disrespect you and say you're wrong," because she's not — there's always another priority. there's always first, or the engine, or a power crisis in third. there's an electrical fault in second, or the tail are making waves again. there's always something that makes her unfair to her.

"i can't give you any more, audrey." she stings herself, fingers that fucking wound with salt and lets it bloom into something angry and weeping. this is the final nail, the five stages of grieving that lead to acceptance. this is how it has to be now, it seems. two strangers on a train.

"i wish i could. and i hope you know that i feel... exactly the same, which is why i can't — there's more to this. i wish i could — tell you, but i can't. i'm sorry. i just can't — promise that i can do this with you. i can't promise that i won't have to leave, or won't have to keep things from you. you deserve all of it and more, but i —"

a sigh is breathed between her lips as she settles back against the wall. her eyes close, and her head tilts back in some silent prayer that it'll make this easier. i love you, but i can't do this.

"i wish it was different. i wish i was different."

[gretagillmybeloved]

take me by the hand (while we do what lovers do)

“I have something she doesn’t. This team. This family. You.”

She says it before she can think too much about it. The words just slip out, seemingly of their own volition, because they’re apt, necessary. Most of all, they’re true.

She is stronger because she has Lena in her life. Better. It’s like Lena somehow takes every bad thing that happens and turns it into something great and—

Oh.

Oh.

She’s in love with Lena.

The realization hits her like a truck. A truck carrying a ton of bricks, attached to a sledgehammer.

“I—”

Her mouth is suddenly dry, flashes of their friendship materializing in front of her inner eye out of nowhere…

    “I will always protect you.”

              An office full of flowers.

                        “I believe in you.”

                                  Eclairs from Paris.

                                            “For a friend like you, there are no boundaries.”

The fact that Kara barely dares touching Lena, hugging her, even though she is the most important person in the blonde’s life and she wants nothing more than to reach out at all times.

She looks up at Lena then, green eyes wide and wet and anxious, and Kara’s heart clenches in her chest. She’d do anything to soothe her, to make her feel better right now (or any other time).

“Kara—” the brunette breathes, voice barely above a whisper, and Kara can basically feel the air around them crackling with tension, with things left unsaid.

She reaches out before she can think better of it, hesitates only a second before grasping one of Lena’s hands in her own.

“Don’t be afraid.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, she knows it is. It’s cliché, useless. But it’s also the best thing she can come up with right now.

A quiet sob escapes Lena’s throat as she clutches the hand in her own with such desperate force that Kara is glad she is basically invincible.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

The words are nothing but a desperate plea, so much emotion on Lena’s features that Kara is half-convinced she isn’t just talking about her magic anymore.

“You’re nothing like him, Lena. You’re strong. And brave. And good.” She lifts her free hand to Lena’s face, cups her cheek, stops breathing as Lena’s eyes close. “You’re so good.”

“What if I go too far?”

“You won’t.”

Her eyes fly open again, tears threatening to spill.

“I would sacrifice the whole world to save you, Kara. I’ve been there before.”

Kara’s brow furrows.

“What?”

A moment of silence, then—

“When you were trapped in the Phantom Zone, I figured out a way to locate you, to save you, but the chrysalis was solidifying, threatening to trap the souls of hundreds of thousands of people in it forever and—and I was ready to sacrifice them all out of…” She gulps. “…guilt, yes, but also because—because I can’t imagine living in a world without you in it.”

The admission hangs between them like a fog, constricts Kara’s lungs to the point where she can’t breathe. She can’t think, can’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Lena—”

She can only hope.

It’s silent for a moment. Then another one. And one more. It’s silent when Lena puts her own hand on Kara’s own resting against her face. It’s silent when she takes a breath, looks at Kara intently, almost desperately, until—

“I love you, Kara. I’m in love with you.”

And she should’ve seen this coming but, much like her own feelings, the turn of events blindsides her completely. Is this what it feels like to have a stroke? To be run over by a train?

It feels like she’s floating even though both of her feet are firmly planted on the ground. Like the room is spinning around her.

The sensation is dizzying, disorienting, but then she feels Lena squeeze her hand where they’re still holding on to each other and, suddenly, the brunette snaps back into focus.

Her eyes are worried and Kara knows almost instinctively that she is two seconds away from putting every wall that’s ever stood between them back up out of fear she is going to be rejected, fear that her bravery was for naught.

So, really, what else can Kara do but pull Lena toward herself for a long-overdue kiss?

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

[ackerfics]

edelweiss — levi ackerman.

— levi ackerman x female reader

— warnings: spoilers for season 4 and the good old aot canon-typical violence.

— summary: you pour your unsaid thoughts to levi, only to break a promise that costs you your heart.

— word count: 4.5k

The sea holds so many promises with its sea-green hue that it spreads a chilling wave through your body like the first breath of winter’s snow. The first time you had ever set eyes on such a majestic view, there was still momentary happiness lingering as your comrades splashed each other with its blue waters. It was a symbol of hope and yet it remained a mystery that prevents all of you from knowing what was beyond this thing called the horizon. You remember how you laughed in delight when Hange presented a bizarre creature on their hands, beckoning you to move closer and focus your entire attention on the small unknown thing lying on your best friend’s palms. You remember glorying under the Sun’s ever singing rays, watching them glitter against every small jostle of water at your feet. You remember turning around to face your lover with a bright smile that might have rendered him speechless — fumbling for words when the two of you face each other.

Those moments were timeless.

Minutes spent wading in the sea was the only time you had peace.

You let out a shuddering breath as you brushed your fingers against the gold band decorating your left ring finger. This is no time to be vulnerable. You were a captain for years, for heaven’s sake, even before Levi joined the Survey Corps. The younger soldiers would feel nervous if they see your unnecessary tears. Hastily wiping them from your cheeks, you turned away from the railing separating you from the dreadful vastness of blue that placed you in such a mood and placed a tentative hand on one of the rooms housing your injured husband.

Entering the small room was more stifling than the situation happening around the continent. It would mean seeing Levi in such a state that would always accumulate unshed tears in your eyes. The bandages wrapping his figure only worsened your melancholy and with every step, you pray that he wouldn’t wake up from the cringing creak of the wood paneling of the floor. The room only had one single bed and a convenient chair on the opposite side of the lone furniture. You wasted no time in lifting the chair to place it beside Levi’s bed, seating yourself with pursed lips and clenched fists. The more time you surveyed his battered body, the more your throat burned with the urge to pour out your feelings in the small confines of the room.

With the Rumbling purging the continents beyond Paradis, this was no time to be relishing in old memories. 

Yet living in those memories you shared with Levi kept you solid.

Your life wasn’t guaranteed in this last mission. There will always be a possibility that you won’t come home with the rest of the people fighting against the Rumbling and you had to make do of the short amount of time you had with Levi. But a part of you was saying that you had to survive no matter what, to make that dream of opening a tea shop in a small village possible — to give your child the freedom and childhood you had never experienced. That little ray of sunshine that came to both you and Levi in times of hopelessness a year after taking back the lost territory of the Walls. He looked like Levi that it was so hard for you to say goodbye, even if it were only missions for weeks on an unknown land. This time, you didn’t utter a single closure to your son, regret started bubbling in the abyss of your mind and stomach.

And now, you don’t know if you could ever meet with your son again.

Taking Levi’s hand as gently as possible, you took a deep breath.

“If time really was against us, I promise I wouldn’t cry. I promise I wouldn’t wait for you because I know you’ll still be the strongest soldier I have ever known. I am a mere mortal compared to you, Levi, and I fear that this dream of ours will have its last breath.”

A bitter chuckle came out of you as your grip on his hand tightened. The memories were now more vivid than usual — the time you introduced yourself to him and his friends from the Underground, the respect that blossomed between you when he knew you will be his new squad leader, the way he looked after you as your second-in-command, you recommending him in the vacant Captain spot of the Survey Corps, and you giving him a welcoming gift in his new office. Then, the images shifted to when he finally kissed you under the canopy of stars, to when he whispered words of reassurance as your bodies erased every space between you, to when you screamed in Shiganshina that you were pregnant with his child, and to when you started carrying his discovered last name along with the birth of your first son.

“The reason these thoughts tend to cloud my head at this moment was that the memories simply flashed in my mind as I stared at the ocean that I always longed for. Memories we shared that might have been fleeting yet they carry a thousand-fold of emotions coursing through every fiber of my being. Funny how every time we went out on an expedition all those years ago, you always told me to keep safe and come back with a heart that’s still beating for you. As if I would ever stop loving you and set my sights romanticizing the Titans as Hange does. I had realized that you never once accepted that my life could abruptly end with a constant war on our hands.

“Until your tired breath from lack of sleep gradually diminishes, this time, I will be the one to protect you and fight until I will let go of my own heart to sing a song worthy of you.”

“Was that a speech of farewell just now?”

Your eyes flew from your joined hands to the dulled gray irises of the keeper of your heart. Before you know it, tears continuously flowed a stream on your cheeks, your shoulders hunched as sobs racked your body. “I don’t know what came over me, must be the tension brought by the possibility of dying when we haven’t even stopped the Rumbling from erasing the rest of humanity.”

“Hey, look at me,” Levi uttered your name so softly as if he was afraid it would sadden you even more. Placing his left hand on your cheek, he wiped the cascading tear that glistened under the mellow glow of the lantern beside his bed. “You’re not going anywhere. Not when I am still alive with limbs fully intact. Well, except for the fact that I lost two of my fingers.” From that, more tears appeared in his view, flustering him in the slightest. “The point is that I will protect you. This dream with our small family will be forever ingrained in our future. You will always have me looking out for you.”

“But I’m supposed to be the one protecting you now.”

“Are you underestimating me?”

You shook your head, covering his hand with both of yours. You placed a tender kiss that you hoped radiated the unsaid thoughts that could ruin the moment you share with him right now. You wanted him to be a part of humanity’s victory against whatever crazy plan Eren has set his mind on.

“Our little boy is waiting for us to come home,” Levi reminded you after a few minutes of silence (with your occasional sniffles here and there). “Isn’t that enough reason for us to come home alive? Imagining him losing one of us was the one thing I don’t want to happen right now. Promise me.” You love the sound of your name when he says it. Akin to the flowers that seem like they hold all the jewels at the center of their petals. “Come home with me safe and sound.”

“I’m not one to keep promises, Levi, you know that.”

“Just this once,” he pleaded. “All I wanted was to have a happy ending with you, my edelweiss.”

With new tears blossoming in your eyes like flowers in spring, you gave Levi a promise that will desperately cling as long as the two of you are alive.

And he regretted making you say those words.

The battle with the Nine Titans of the past proved to be tormenting. With forces so small, the group who allied two countries at constant war with each other fought with bated breath, all eager to get out of the situation alive like no other. As hollow as your chest became after witnessing Hange sacrifice their life to let all of you escape, you steeled yourself and momentarily forgot the emptiness you felt as you landed on top of Eren’s back. You fought back a gag of disgust when you realized that the humungous creature shared similarities with those insects you loathe. However, Armin was captured by a Titan out of nowhere and everything went to absolute shit. Maneuvering in the air was perfect for the remaining members of the Survey Corps as they assessed the onslaught and ongoing appearance of their intelligent enemies on Eren’s back but their numbers continued pouring in. Two thousand years of Titan history right in front of your eyes. Everybody, Mikasa especially, was starting to feel agitated that one of their comrades was hauled away with a good number of Titans to prevent them from saving him.

“Even if I was in perfect shape,” Levi told them while they stayed perched a good kilometers away from Death, “I would still not choose to make a charge there. So calm down. Mikasa, don’t rush. Wait until I distract them.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. “Levi, don’t overexert yourself. We don’t want to lose you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Don’t die on me.”

The rush of adrenaline started when Pieck initiated the charge, along with the thought that she had never known Eren unlike the rest of the people behind her. You screamed for her to retreat but they were futile when the Warhammer Titan materialized behind the Shifter and pierced a weapon made of hardened Titan skin through the torso of the woman’s Cart Titan. Gritting your teeth, you followed your comrades in a route specifically to rescue the new commander of the Survey Corps. Thunderspears were released every minute, maneuvers were done in utmost accuracy, and sliced napes gradually increased as your small group evaded every death-defying moment. As you were about to set your sights on one Titan in particular as well as avoid the Colossal Titan, Connie descended when the fifty-meter mass of burning flesh threw Reiner’s inert Titan at the rest of the squad, shaking the entirety of the spine you were carefully standing on. 

“Levi!” you called out desperately when you saw him cough up blood. He was only a few meters away from you and you had to take him away from there fast. However, the sudden motion of a jumping Titan made you rethink your decision, latching your hooks at somewhere near Connie and blinding the creature’s eyes with an angered shout that might have startled it. The horrible creature tried snapping at your form but you were quick enough to evade its jaws with a hiss from your ODM gear, turning in midair to slice the Titan’s nape and rendering it lifeless. Looking down for a moment to check on your blades, you saw the lone pair sitting inside either sheath of the gear. “Fuck. My gas canisters and supply are not cooperating with the situation right now.”

Looking around, you suddenly realized with a hollow chest that everything was hopeless at this point. There was no escape as every intelligent Titan known to mankind swarmed your squad, their shadows a foreboding omen on your death.

Feeling a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, you turned around and saw that the Warhammer Titan was starting to make another one of its weapons, this time, a needle-like spear forming from the hardened material at the bottom of its foot. Shouting at the top of your lungs for your friends to flee, the message only registered to them when you pushed Mikasa, who was dangling in the middle of the trajectory with a determined face, oblivious to the weapon hurtling towards your squad’s direction.

Pain was something you always described as a chain of a chemical reaction. From all the books you read while trying to keep up with the latest idea Hange had, you always marveled at how a small prick of a needle would soon creep the sensation to your entire finger. To prevent yourself from being affected by the pain, you always likened the creeping pain to a blooming blossom in your and Hange’s favorite season. It promised something anew that would grow from the initial pain that racked your body. The dizziness was another story entirely. You never had issues with iron deficiency while growing up. You were a force to be reckoned with — battle scars lining up your legs and knees from all the running and climbing you did as a part of your childhood. These dents on your body grew in numbers as the years passed by until you were granted a position in the military regiment of flying wings and anxiety-ridden adventures. You wore these battle scars proudly like any other soldier.

Then, the promise of being alive rang across your head like a beacon.

That spear caused the entire left side of your torso to be gone.

The shouts of terror and agony from your squad fell on deaf ears as you slowly plummeted to your death. Ah, so that was why you were having flashbacks of your life from gazing at the ocean a final time. Glassy eyes stared lifelessly at the steaming sky as a single voice screamed your name nearly made you smile. You can finally let go of those long, never-ending days now. There won’t be nightmares plaguing you every other night as you finally succumbed to your last sleep. Selfish as it may, you were at peace once again.

“[Name]!”

And when you opened your eyes, a familiar face appeared to greet you and everything felt like a dream you just experienced from a drunken daze.

“Hi, I hope that wasn’t a bad dream.”

You blinked away the drowsiness that fell upon your eyelids, staring at a familiar landscape you only saw in daydreams. The clean air reminded you of the good old days, of summers left uncherished and autumn with its red leaves and yellow treats. There weren’t any Titans looming at every corner of the space and you slightly felt relieved at the thought until a single tear ran down your cheek like a chill in the winter air. 

“Don’t cry.” A slightly panicked tone that only deepened the cut you felt in your chest. “You’re safe here.”

Those words only fuelled your cries. Palms covering your mouth, you uttered the name of the person who would pull you from the inner workings of your mind and bring you back to the surface. You never knew how much you missed them until you wrapped your arms around their shoulders, pulling them in an embrace that you should’ve done before they said their farewells, face taut with determination to stop Eren.

"Hange.”

They smelled like home. Of baked bread during late-night trysts in the kitchens to make them eat after a week of slaving inside their laboratory, of hot chocolate from the marketplace, of scented shampoo from the baths you had to force them. Your grip tightened when you felt their gentle hands reciprocate the hug you showered on them.

“I can’t believe you’re here waiting for me.”

“You did well.” A call of your name snapped you from reuniting with your best friend.

“Erwin?”

A warm smile lifted the said man’s lips as he kneeled beside you and Hange, who was now trying so hard not to cry. “You fought beautifully, [Name], and I’m so glad to see your smile again.”

The overwhelming emotions made you laugh brilliantly in the vast meadow where the veterans once had their picnic. Then, an image of a man with ebony locks and loving steel eyes and a toddler with an uncanny similarity as him made you stop breathing. The tea shop you promised your husband would have. The perfect childhood your son would’ve enjoyed. “What about Caelum? Levi?”

Erwin placed a firm hand on your shoulder. There you realized your torso was still intact. “You will see them as many times as you want. Come,” he took your hand and pulled you up, “the others are waiting. It’s your time to tell your story now.”

“I bet it was interesting since I never got to see it,” Hange interjected, wrapping a nostalgic arm around your shoulders. “That blasted Eren! I will haunt him in his sleep if he survived that massacre he started!”

-

Sleep was never Levi’s friend growing up. It was a realm that he chose not to venture at certain nights, afraid of the demons lurking at every corner of his tunnel vision. There was a time that sleep was kind to him. It took the form of a beautiful sprite with gentle fingers; coaxing him, tugging affectionately on his black locks, and humming lullabies that will guarantee him a good night’s sleep after a tiring day of having responsibilities. Only there was no fairy to lull him to sleep this time around. The nightmare was always the same — it started as any other random memory stored in the kept jar inside his chest, turning the whole scenario in a crescendo until he saw the limp body of his wife dropping lifelessly, the wire of her gear snapping from the impact of a white spear. His wife had the same face as the fairy who he held every night while being in the Survey Corps. The wife who gave him the light of his life, who was sleeping soundly beside him on the bed; black hair tousled, puffy cheeks blabbering drowsy nonsense, and chubby fists clenching on the thick sheets.

Glancing at the child on the bed, Levi ran an agitated hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as hard as he could. His mind flittered to the dream he just had, shocked that no blood and corpses were waiting at the end. Levi doesn’t know if he should be grateful or spooked at the sudden change of his unconscious.

“Guess you won’t be calling me ‘Captain’ anymore, huh, Levi?”

A playful jab colored Levi’s new office. It was a new change from that stuffy bedroom he got back when he was still the second-in-command of the woman standing in the middle of his office as if it was a new wonderland fit for admiring. The room was nothing much. It was an old storage room, which ticked Levi off to many tomorrows, spending every free time polishing the wooden cabinets and bookshelves until they reflected his face. There was an adjoining door to the right of his desk, showing his new sleeping quarters — equipped with a bed, housing double the pillows he got a while back and a soft mattress that his spine was grateful for. Now, the black-haired man observed how [Name]’s face lit up when their eyes met, igniting a foreign feeling inside his stomach and chest.

“So what’s second on the agenda, Captain Levi? I deduced that cleaning is the first one and you finished that without a hitch. You should’ve told me you needed help, I can always spare a few minutes taking a break from paperwork.”

Levi snorted at how smooth the title and his name sounded with the woman’s voice. “Finding brats to place on my squad.” As he fidgeted with the stacks of papers on top of his desk, his gray gaze kept glancing at [Name], who was now sidling up on his bookshelf, occasionally commenting that they pay a visit to the marketplace downtown for some good books to add in his collection. (“Your taste is bland, Levi, spice them up, for fuck’s sake,” to which the man brushed off.) “Uh, if you don’t mind, you can help me with finding some good soldiers for my squad.”

[Eye color] irises immediately snapped to meet his, causing Levi to clear his throat to ease the nervousness that started to chill his spine. It was as if he didn’t spend the past year under her leadership, which amounted to more moments spent with just the two of them. This, however, the nervousness he felt, was uncalled for. The cause being the woman with the unbound hair, curling at the bottom from the hours she pinned it in a bun, and a resolve that rivaled that of a stoked fire shining through her eyes. Truly worthy of the title ‘Humanity’s Beacon’, being one of the few women to ever prove themselves by slaying titans and conditioning their bodies and mind to achieve such an accomplishment. Levi found himself continuously staring at [Name] with the most blatant awe his stoic face could muster. He realized something that might have crossed his mind a couple of times they were together.

[Name] [Last Name] was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Finding good soldiers?” [Name] hummed, oblivious at the fact that she took the black-haired man’s breath away with a glance. “I think I have some cadets in mind.” Then, she clapped her hands. “But before that, I would like to give you your welcoming present!”

“Welcoming,” Levi trailed off, “present?”

[Name] nodded, turning around to the long couch pushed against the wall. So that’s what that poor excuse of wrapping paper was for, Levi thought. Like a little kid presenting the parent their shitty drawing, [Name] placed the gift in the middle of his desk with a clang. Wait, clang? “I hope I didn’t break it,” the female captain murmured, scratching her head sheepishly. “You can open it now.”

Levi tentatively unwrapped the brown paper around the supposed gift the woman gave him. Upon seeing what was nestled inside the papers, gray eyes met the most tantalizing [eye color] as he slightly gaped in disbelief. “You bought me a,” an eager nod could be seen from the woman in his peripheral vision, “a tea set. And a new jar of tea leaves as well. [Name], I-I couldn’t accept this, this must cost a lot. You know I have plans of buying my own tea set and tea leaves once I have a solid paycheck. These are even made from the highest quality, both of these, how—?”

Laughter bubbled from [Name] as she endearingly stared at the flustered state of her friend, abruptly stopping his chatter. “You’re rambling, Levi. Don’t worry about the lost money, we will be getting our paychecks next month anyway. I don’t have anything to splurge the rest of my savings on, except for a few books and quills. Besides,” she paused to give Levi a brilliant smile that once again rendered him speechless, “I guess giving you these are worth every single penny. Congratulations on being captain, Levi.”

Clearing his throat, he looked away. “Tch, you’re the one who recommended me to Erwin, stop with the congratulations as if you don’t know the promotion.”

“Still stingy, I see. So about those cadets you wanted to recruit. Here, I recommend these people.”

A small weight knocked Levi out of his stupor, silver-gray matching his stare with worried eyes. Small hands plopped on either side of the man’s face, squishing his cheeks as the hunched smaller figure on his lap pouted with furrowed eyebrows. “Dad, did you have a nightmare?” Letting out a sigh, Levi took his son’s hands from his face and proceeded to hug him close. The little boy sensed that his father was in a sad mood because of the man’s tense shoulders so he determinedly patted Levi’s head. “There, there, Dad. It’s more than okay to forget that dream.”

“You know I wouldn’t dare forget your Mom, kid,” Levi murmured, leaning back to look at Caelum with a raised eyebrow.

“You were dreaming about Mom?”

“Yeah.”

Great, his kid inherited his insomniac tendencies. If [Name] would see him now, there would be no doubt she will initiate a late-night tea party with Caelum. The kid also inherited his love for tea (Levi lets him drink fruit teas in the meantime) which is more than fine.

Caelum ducked down, pouting while fiddling with his father’s shirt. “I miss Mom.”

A sad smile pulled on Levi’s lips. “Me, too, kid. Me, too.” He brushed his lips on Caelum’s forehead (which lead to a small whine from the toddler, saying that he’s a big boy and he doesn’t want kisses from his dad) before lying down on the bed, with his son on top of his chest. “Deal with the kisses. Let’s sleep, yeah? Are you sleepy, kid?”

The little boy yawned and rubbed his eye. “Nope.”

Levi snorted. “Well, no shit.”

“That’s a bad word. Mom wouldn’t like you saying it.” Silence enveloped the two until, “Hey, Dad, can you tell me stories about Mom?”

“Go to sleep, brat.” A pause. “She is—,” Levi sighed, “quite a handful, even when she was a captain.”

Caelum huffed. “I already know that. You always complain about it.”

“Well, did I tell you about that time she stood on top of a Titan we were planning to capture, leading it like a horse to our trap?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head adorably. “Did Mom get hurt?”

“That idiot did.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about Mom!”

“Setting that aside, your Mom…”

Telling stories of [Name] always proved to be quite a time-consuming thing as the toddler fought against his drooping eyelids. Levi fondly stared at the only memory his wife left behind, his hand soothingly rubbed the boy’s back as their breaths turned into a rhythmic melody synced with each other. “I love you, kid. I know your mom will be proud of you. We’ll always be here for you, our edelweiss.”

-

To you, glowing with the suns,

There was no one alive to tell the tale of how the world almost came to an end, how earthquakes rumbled, how hopes were extinguished. There was no one alive to tell the story of how much I dedicate my heart to you. If I’d known it would be this way; I would have written thousands of paragraphs with the way I looked at you as if you were the sea, I would have written the ending with words that rivaled the infinite stars in the cosmos, and I would have finished it off with happiness that we (you) deserve. 

You are my prologue, my epilogue, and every chapter and page in between.

From a tired soldier who loves you until we become ancient,

Your Levi

[marjansmarwani]

in the hope of open hands

8.5k || ao3

Vignettes of Nancy and Marjan through season two as their friendship grows stronger and turns into something more.

Here it is, the Nancy/Marjan fic I have been threatening for ages, just in time for @bellakitse‘s birthday. Happy birthday Stef! I hope you had a wonderful one, that you enjoy this bit of Nancy/Marjan softness, and that you know how much I appreciate you 💕

This is my first time writing these two and I sincerely hope I did them justice. I love them both though, so I hope that counts for something. 

--------------

Michelle leaving wasn’t as shocking as it probably should have been.

But after everything that had happened - starting with a solar storm and wrapping around a worldwide pandemic - the paramedic captain putting in her two week notice was barely a blip in the grand scheme of things. Yes it would mean a change in the firehouse dynamics, yes it would mean that Nancy and Tim would have to adjust to someone new. But Marjan respected Michelle for making the decision she had - it wasn’t an easy thing to do to walk away from everything you knew and take a risk.

Which is why when Tim started on his latest round of complaining (it was so familiar she could almost trace the argument at this point) she responded in kind. She meant what she said - she admired her for making the choice, more than she could say. For all her bravado and daring in the field, she hadn’t taken too many gambles in her personal life. Yes, moving to Austin had been a risk, but it had been a calculated one. In everything else; friendship, romance, she couldn’t say the same. Marjan loved the adrenaline rush of a thrill, she hated the uncertainty of a new choice.

Nancy, at least, agreed with her.

“What a monster,” she concluded sarcastically after she listed off all the personal sacrifices Michelle had made, throwing a grin in Marjan’s direction as she finished. Marjan returned it without hesitation, their eyes meeting as Tim threw up his hands in frustration. It was becoming a familiar rhythm between them. Maybe it was the pandemic forcing them to find companionship within their everyday circles, maybe it was simply them realizing that as much as they loved their teammates, the women of the 126 needed to stick together.

Whatever it was, Marjan was glad for it. They had just started getting to know each other and before she knew it, Nancy Gillian was her friend. She could very easily become a close one too, Marjan thought, given time. Time she knew that she was willing to give.

----------

Marjan was swiping through the pictures she had just taken when she felt a familiar presence at her shoulder.

“Those are great,” Nancy said with a grin Marjan could hear even with her back to the other woman, “you’ll have to send those to me.”

“As long as you give me credit Gillian, a lot of time and effort went into these you know!”

She knew her friend was rolling her eyes even before she had fully turned around but when she got a look at her face she was not disappointed. She grinned cheekily at the paramedic before their attention was drawn to the kitchen by a loud and bright laugh from Grace. They turned to see her leaning back in her seat, one hand on Captain Vega’s shoulder and the other covering her mouth. Marjan smiled at the sight before tilting her head in their direction, “How are things going with Captain Vega? She seems like a badass.”

“She is,” Nancy confirmed, “it’s kind of awesome.”

There was admiration in her tone, but something else too.

“But?” Marjan prompted, turning her back on Captain Vega and Grace to give Nancy her full attention.

Nancy sighed, “I don’t know. It’s just been weird. Michelle was never warm and fuzzy, but we knew her. Captain Vega is...different.”

“You’ll get to know her too,” Marjan reminded her, “in time.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agreed with another glance towards her Captain, “I guess.”

“Well I know,” Marjan told her firmly. “You just need to give it time.”

Nancy smiled at her gratefully and Marjan felt a warmth of affection rush through her. “Hey,” she said after a minute, “the only downside of flaunting my superior photography skills is that I’m not in any of the pictures. Take a selfie with me?”

“Who can say no to Firefox?” Nancy quipped, but leaned down so that she was next to Marjan as she raised her camera. They both beamed at the camera as Marjan tapped the shutter button. When they were done she pulled the phone closer to look at the result. Their smiles shone just as brightly on her phone and Marjan grinned at it. She added a heart emoji for her story, but not before she downloaded a copy.

This, she decided, was a moment she wanted to remember. The beginning of better times to come, she was sure.

--------

“Why did we leave him? We wouldn’t have done that if it were anyone else!”

If it were one of you is left unsaid, but filled the spaces between them all the same.

Captain Strand reminded them it was all strictly protocol and Marjan knows he’s right but she can’t help but wonder too. She can’t help but look down at where her hand is resting on TK’s shoulder. It wasn’t all that long ago that they had almost lost him on a call. If the worst had happened, would they have left? Or would they have stayed; giving protocol the finger because that’s what you did for family.

Logically she knows the two situations were worlds away from each other. TK’s had been a freak accident in an otherwise controllable environment. The scene at the pool hadn’t been safe. There had been lava and fire everywhere; they had been ordered to abandon their recovery efforts for civilians too when the worst of it had happened. They had grabbed any survivors and they had left before the body count rose anymore. She knew it was for the best, she knew it was protocol.

That didn’t make looking at Nancy’s broken expression any less painful.

But she didn’t know what to say. What could she say to make the loss of her partner hurt less? Marjan had a team and she knew that if she lost any one of them she would lose a piece of her heart with them. Nancy and Tim had only had each other. They had had each other for so long and through so much and Marjan knew there was no way she could possibly fathom the loss that Nancy had just experienced. So instead of going to her as a friend probably should when Paul offered to spar with her she accepted eagerly. She used the punching bag as a target for her anger, for her fear. She was angry that Tim’s life had been cut short when all he had ever done was help people. She was angry Nancy had to face this. She was afraid of how this might affect her friend; she was afraid of finding herself in a similar spot someday.

But eventually the workout was over and she and Paul parted ways. She felt lighter as she stepped into the women's locker room, but not better. There was still a heaviness within her and she had a feeling it would be with her for a while. She crossed to her locker and dropped her bag onto the ground before sinking onto the bench with a weary sigh. She was just debating whether it was worth it to change at all or to simply go home in her workout clothes when she heard the sound of sniffling from beyond the row of lockers. She frowned as she stood up, stepping quietly around them until she came to a halt at the sight of the scene before her.

Nancy was on the wide bench by the showers, her feet up on the bench before her and her knees pulled up to her chin. She was sobbing; quietly but unmistakably. Marjan felt her heart break all over again as she quietly approached.

“Nance?” she asked softly as she drew closer, not wanting to startle her friend. Nancy’s face shot up and her eyes went wide at the sight of the other woman. She reached up a hand to wipe away the tears that were still rolling down her face, but Marjan shook her head.

“You don’t have to stop,” she told her as she carefully settled onto the bench beside her. “It’s okay to feel this, and let it out. And I’m not going anywhere, Nance,” she added after a moment, certainty filling her voice. “You’re not facing this alone.”

And with that, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the other woman - tentatively at first but she tightened her hold as Nancy leaned into her. They stayed there, on the bench in the locker room as Nancy cried in Marjan’s arms, attempting to let all the fear and pain and grief inside out before it ate her alive.

And as they sat there Marjan made up her mind. She would be there for Nancy for whatever she needed for as long as she needed it. She was not about to let someone she cared about so much face this on their own.

--------

Marjan found a quiet corner and settled onto the edge of a picnic table before pulling out her phone. She took a deep breath before she dialed, tapping Nancy’s name in her phone as she did. Her mind wandered as it rang and she half hoped the other woman didn’t pick up.

“Hello?” Nancy’s voice sounded in her ear and Marjan’s heart ached at how thick it sounded.

“Hey Nance,” she said softly, “I just wanted to call and check-in, see how you’re holding up.”

There was a pause in which Marjan was certain she heard a sniffle, “I’m fine,” Nancy said but Marjan knew her well enough to know that she was lying.

She also knew that if she pushed it she would clam up, so she changed tactics instead, “We’re all thinking about you. I wish we could have been there for you.”

The truth of I wish I could have been there for you floated between them unsaid.

“It’s not like you guys have any control over the wildfires,” Nancy said eventually, her voice a little stronger. “I don’t think I can hold that against you. Besides,” she added, her voice shifting again, “you shouldn’t be worrying about me. You should be focusing on staying safe. We don’t need any more funerals.”

Marjan knew what Nancy was doing because humor was a shield that she lived behind as well. But there was a waver in her voice and Marjan was suddenly forcibly reminded that this was not Nancy’s first time at a co-worker’s memorial service. The old 126 may not have been her partner, but they had been her friends and now with Michelle following her heart and Tim in the ground, every connection Nancy had to the time before the tragedy was gone, save for Judd.

“Well you don’t need to worry about us either,” she assured her. “We’re keeping it all by the book, strictly playing by the rules.”

“Yeah well, we’ll see how long that lasts,” Nancy retorted with a snort and Marjan swore she could practically hear her roll her eyes even over the less than stellar cell connection. “This is the 126 we’re talking about, after all. It’s only a matter of time before someone pulls some crazy stunt. Personally, my money is on you or Strand.”

“I resent that!” Marjan exclaimed indignantly, but the relief of hearing Nancy’s laughter on the other end firmly proved that to be false. She let the sound wrap around her, savoring every second of it before she spoke again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Nance?”

“I am,” Nancy replied, “this sucks, a lot. But everyday it hurts a little less. And Captain Vega has been great, we’ve gotten a lot closer.”

“I’m glad,” Marjan replied, “I think you two will make a formidable team.”

“We can’t have a team of two though,” Nancy reminded her, “we’re going to need to replace...to hire a third eventually.”

“Eventually,” Marjan agreed, “but not yet. You have some time, don’t worry about it yet.”

There was silence after that. They sat on the line together, each lost in their own thoughts, anchored to the present only by the sound of the other’s breaths. Eventually it was Nancy that broke the silence.

“Thanks Marj, for checking in. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” Marjan replies without hesitation, “I wish I could do more.”

“It’s enough,” Nancy assured her, “it’s more than enough.”

The silence returned again but it was a comfortable silence. It was comfort amongst the chaos they were both separately facing, a safe harbor to return to. But it was shattered all too soon as Commander DeLeon called for the troops to gather.

“Nancy, I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah,” the paramedic said, “of course. Stay safe Marj.”

And with that she ended the call and Marjan was left with a smile as she joined her team for the latest briefing.

----------

“I hear you have a visitor.”

Nancy’s words pulled Marjan from her stupor and wrenched her attention from where she had been studiously stirring her tea.

“The guys told you?”

“About four minutes after I got here today. Those boys can’t keep a secret for shit.”

Marjan rolled her eyes at that, “It’s not a secret it just...never came up.”

“What, you mean there was never a time to say, ‘Hey guys, guess what? I’m engaged’?”

“And how do you think that would have gone over?”

“Probably better than meeting him by surprise outside the roller derby rink did.”

Marjan had to concede that point, at least.

“I wasn’t trying to keep him a secret,” she explained. “I guess I never really thought about it. It’s just been a part of my life for so long that I barely even think about it most of the time. And that is so separate in my head from my life here and I just...never thought of sharing it.”

Nancy didn’t say anything right away and when Marjan looked up at her it was clear that she was on the verge of saying something, but not sure if she wanted to. She waited for a few more moments before Nancy noticed her watching and gave her a smile that was tighter than her usual.

“That makes sense, I guess. It must be nice to see him after so long.”

“Yeah”, Marjan agreed, “it is.”

The smile Nancy gave her this time was more genuine, much more like herself. “I hope you enjoy his visit then,” she said before she jabbed her thumb in the direction of the ambulance bay. “I have to go take care of inventory, but we’ll take more later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marjan agreed, watching in confusion as Nancy walked away.

----------

All her life, Marjan had had a plan.

Now, in just one day and two conversations, that plan had been dismantled and for the first time, Marjan was facing an uncertain future. It terrified her.

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle this. She knew she had made the right choice. She cared for Salim — she always had — and the fact that at some point, unbeknownst to her, she had to come to love him didn’t change anything. She was well aware that she had been the one to make this mess; but that didn’t change the end result. Salim had fallen for someone else. He had made his choice and Marjan refused to be the reason someone else got hurt. She refused to spend the rest of her life with someone she couldn’t trust; with someone who didn’t honor their commitments. That mattered to her — enough to upend her entire future, apparently.

The worst part was that she wasn’t even sure she could blame Salim. Or even their parents, for that matter. She didn’t think it was the fault of any one person; it was just something that had happened with time. They had been so young when this had all been decided, years before they had realized who they were. It had never bothered her, the idea of it. It had been comforting knowing that no matter what, she knew what the future was going to bring. She had been free to make her choices and follow her passions knowing that no matter what she had a future with Salim. She had never considered another possibility.

But now she was faced with a whole world of other possibilities and she didn’t know what to do with it. She had never really thought of the concept of romance before; she had never taken the time to consider who she found attractive. She had never seen the point, given everything. Maybe she should find it thrilling (and a small, distant part of her did) but mostly, she found it terrifying. She didn’t know what to do next.

Her pondering was interrupted by the sound of a knock at her door. She frowned, rising from the couch and approached it with trepidation. The list of people who came to visit her at home was very short, but she supposed it could be any member of her team. It could just as well be Salim, but she couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want.

She peered into the peephole, not sure what to expect, but pulled away with a smile and opened the door to reveal Nancy Gillian on her threshold, holding a bag.

“I’m not sure what kind of breakup category this falls under exactly,” she stated without prompting, “but I brought tea if it’s a ranting type and ice cream in case it’s the wallowing type. Either way, we’re ordering chinese.”

And despite it all, Marjan smiled. The first real genuine smile she had since that night at the hotel. “I think it’s a bit of both,” she replied as she stepped aside to allow the other woman entrance.

“Then we better get started,” Nancy quipped as she took the silent invitation. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

---------

With Nancy out on medical due to her broken foot Marjan had taken it upon herself to make sure the other woman was fed and kept up on the happenings at the station. So it was a Monday evening that Marjan found herself in Nancy’s kitchen, stocking the fridge with the groceries she had brought and giving her a play by play of the minefield incident. She had already gotten the basics from Captain Vega, but while her captain’s version had been professional and to the point, Marjan’s was a lot more colorful and action packed. When she had described Reese refusing to enter the minefield Nancy had thumped a hand against the counter.

“See,” she had exclaimed, “I knew he was too good to be true!”

Marjan chuckled, but trailed off as another thought entered her head, “Would you have gone if you had been there?”

“Yeah,” Nancy replied with a shrug, “it’s not on my top ten list of things to do and frankly I’d rather not, but those boys needed help. And that’s what we do.”

And Marjan was surprised by the feeling of relief that washed over her at those words. Not relief that Nancy would have done the right things — of that Marjan had no doubt — but relief that she hadn’t been there, that she hadn’t had the chance.

Relief that she was safe, that she hadn’t taken that risk.

It was stupid and Marjan knew it. Taking risks was their business, it couldn’t be avoided and it was what they had all signed up for. But the idea of Nancy taking that risk, of Nancy putting herself in such tangible danger left her with a feeling of dread she couldn’t shake.

She didn’t know what to say next but she was saved the trouble by the sound of Nancy’s phone ringing and her excusing herself to answer it. Marjan was left to continue to ponder these thoughts as she waited for the phone call to end.

“That was Captain Vega,” Nancy announced as she hobbled back into the kitchen, setting her phone back down on the counter. “She just called to tell me that she offered TK the position, and he accepted.”

“That’s good, right?” Marjan asked as Nancy slid back into her previous seat at the counter. “Having someone you already know filling the spot? It has to take away a lot of the uncertainty.”

“It does,” Nancy admitted, “but it’ll still be an adjustment.”

She trailed off and Marjan paused in putting away the groceries she had brought over. She crossed over to the counter and leaned on it, facing the other women and giving her a beseeching look. “And?” she prompted.

Nancy looked down at her hands on the counter as she replied, voice soft, “And filling the position with someone who will stick feels like it’s official. That Tim is really gone and we’re really moving on now.”

And Marjan didn’t know what to say to that. She had never lost someone like that. She had never experienced losing one of the people closest to you, having them ripped away without warning and being expected to carry on as normal because that was the job. She didn’t know what to say to make that better.

“You are moving on,” she finally settled on, “because that’s what you need to do. That doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten Tim. Getting a new partner does not replace the memories you have of the old one.”

“I know that,” Nancy replied, not meeting her eyes, “it just feels like he’s being forgotten. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Marjan reached across the counter to tap Nancy’s arm, “Hey,” she said, “he’s not forgotten because you will always remember him. And so will I,” she promised. “He’s not going to be forgotten.”

She allowed her words to settle around them, lending weight to her oath. The smile Nancy gave her in response was frail, but it warmed Marjan’s heart to see it. She patted her arm one more time before she stepped away from the counter, returning to the groceries at hand. She knew that she couldn’t possibly imagine what Nancy was going through, but she knew that she would be there for her every step of the way.

That’s what you did for a friend, after all.

------------

“And then he told me to ‘live in it’ for a bit. Like, dude, what the fuck does that even mean?”

Marjan did her best not to audibly chuckle as she turned back to the living room with two mugs in her hand. Nancy was sprawled across her couch and fifteen minutes into a tirade about TK with no signs of stopping anytime soon. She accepted the tea from Marjan with a nod but continued on without missing a beat.

She was going on about the dangers of improperly arranged needles as Marjan settled into the chair across from her, tucking her feet underneath her and hiding her smile with her mug as she took a sip. Her attempts to hide her amusement are unsuccessful and Nancy finally stopped long enough to give her a glare.

“I am so glad me getting replaced on my own team is amusing to you, Marwani.”

Marjan rolled her eyes before setting down her mug. “Nance,” she said evenly, “you are not being replaced.”

“How can you say that?” Nancy questioned incredulously. “You saw them today. They are a perfectly well-oiled team. All I’m doing is getting in the way.”

“Nancy,” Marjan repeated, more firmly this time, “you are not getting in the way. You are an excellent paramedic, and they both know that. But your team has a new member now, and things are going to be different. It’s going to take some time to adjust, but you will.”

Nancy held her gaze for another moment before she looked away with a deep sigh. “I don’t know how to adjust to this,” she said softly. “Tim was my partner for so long. I’m not saying TK is a bad paramedic or that he’s a bad person he’s just…”

“He’s not Tim,” Marjan finished, her heart aching for the other woman as she nodded and blinked against the tears that had gathered in her eyes at the reminder. Marjan leaned forward in her seat, closing the distance between them as much as she dared. “Nancy, TK will never replace Tim. He can’t because he is someone different. You’re going to form a relationship with him too and it’s going to be different. That’s okay. It’s all part of moving forward.”

Nancy was quiet for several moments before she sighed and flopped back onto the couch dramatically, “Moving forward sucks.”

Marjan couldn’t hide the laugh that burst from her at that. “Yeah, it can,” she agreed. “If it’s any consolation though, I can almost guarantee that TK is feeling just as weird about this as you are. And if I know him, he’s going to try to find a way to fix it. And if he doesn’t, I can also guarantee that I will kick his ass, for you.”

That at least pulled a smile out from the other woman and Marjan returned it, savoring the warmth that rushed through her chest at the sight of it.

“Thanks Marj,” Nancy said eventually. “For being here, for listening. I know this is probably weird, I mean he’s your friend and here I am trash talking him…”

“Hey,” Marjan interjected, “none of that now. Yes, TK is my friend, but he’s not the only one. You are my friend too Nancy, and I will be here as long as you need to rant about this or whatever else you need to do. You’ve been there for me, let me be there for you.”

---------

TK had come through just as Marjan had known he would and, even though she had to admit she hadn’t seen it coming, turning the ambulance into a memorial seemed a perfectly fitting tribute. A way to make sure that Tim was truly never forgotten, that he was always with them.

When Nancy arrived Marjan met her eyes. She greeted her with the others but held her gaze a moment longer, silently communicating with the other woman. She didn’t want to steal TK’s thunder but she wanted her to know that everything was okay, that things were looking up. And when TK said his piece and revealed the painted memorial and tears gathered in Nancy’s eyes, Marjan could feel matching ones in her own eyes as well.

They go back to Nancy’s place after that, just the two of them. There were offers for a whole group hang but Marjan could tell that Nancy wasn’t feeling up to that just yet. So when she politely declined she found Marjan waiting by her car, an eyebrow raised.

“What,” she asked, “you didn’t think you were getting rid of me that easily, did you?”

And so here they were now - mugs of tea on the coffee table before them while a cheesy sci-fi flick played out on the screen before them. They sat in comfortable silence, both content to simply exist in the other's presence for a while, until Nancy broke the silence.

“Thank you,” she said eventually, pulling Marjan’s attention away from the movie.

“For what?” she asked with a frown.

“For being here. For having been here this entire time. I...I wasn’t sure if I would ever have someone be there for me like this again. Not after Tim.”

“Nancy, you don’t need to…”

“No, I do Marj. Just, hear me out?”

Marjan nodded and twisted her body so she was facing the other woman, watching as she took a deep breath.

“These past few months,” Nancy started, “have been awful. This process of grieving and recovering has been a long one and as much as it has sucked for me, I can’t imagine it was all that fun to be around either. But you have been there for me the entire time, in every single way. You’ve become someone I rely on and I just, needed you to know that.”

WIth that she stopped speaking and they were left once again in silence. Marjan was floored by the statement. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known that she and Nancy were close, but hearing it laid out like that, knowing how much it had mattered to her put it all in a new light. But something Nancy had said bothered her. She leaned forward to place a hand on her knee, holding her gaze as she spoke.

“You are never a burden, Nance. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever the situation, I will always be there for you. It was never a hardship and it never will be. You’re very important to me too, you know.”

The smile Nancy gave her in return was soft and bright and when she shifted closer closing the distance between them as she turned back to the movie, Marjan let it happen. And if when she readjusted her seat she sank even closer to Nancy, the warmth of her body pulling her closer, that was fine too.

-------------

Marjan is no stranger to fear, but she’s never quite felt a fear like this one before.

When Judd called her to let her know that the 126 paramedic team and ambulance was missing, her first thought wasn't for TK. She loves him like a brother and she wanted nothing more than for him to be okay, but he wasn’t not her first thought.

Her first thought was Nancy.

It’s her name that drives the fear, the thought of never hearing her laugh again that steals her breath. It’s her smile and her warm, brown eyes that she is holding desperately in her memories, hoping she will have a chance to see them again.

And when they get the call that they were found and that TK is hurt but the other two are fine, Marjan can finally breathe again.

She was in her car heading to the hospital before she could even think, pulling in and entering the building with barely a thought and absolutely no plan. She was hovering in the emergency room entrance, trying to figure out her next step when she spotted a familiar figure across the room.

“Carlos!” she called and strode towards him. He looked up, startled, but his expression evened when he spotted her.

“Marj, hey,” he said, and he looked like a wreck. She stepped closer, peering at him with concern and allowing another fear to enter her mind for the first time.

“How’s TK? I heard he was hurt…”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed grimly, “he has a pretty nasty head injury. He’s getting some scans and tests done now so we’ll know soon, I just stepped out to call my mom back. Captain Strand is in the waiting room upstairs though if you want to go up.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised and not sure how to respond, “actually I…”

She trailed off but Carlos gave her a calculating look before he smiled and spoke again, “Nancy is upstairs too. She’s okay, not a scratch on her.”

Marjan couldn’t even be bothered to try and hide the relief she felt at that. She could feel some of the tension leave her body as Carlos chuckled softly, shaking his head, “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

She opened her mouth to make a retort but found that she couldn’t even find the words. There is too much else in her head right now. But Carlos was still grinning that knowing grin at her and she couldn’t let him off easy, “TK has been a bad influence on you, Reyes.”

She’s known Carlos long enough to know that this is where he would usually fire back some clever retort. He doesn’t, but his expression softens at the mention of his boyfriend and he glances back towards the elevator that separates them. “I should go make this phone call,” he said instead. “I don’t want to be gone too long. Nancy is in one of the waiting rooms, second door on your left once you get off the elevator, 4th floor.”

Marjan nodded her thanks and reached out to give his arm a comforting squeeze before he walked away. “They’re safe Carlos,” she tells him, “it’s going to be okay.”

He smiled at her again before he turned and walked away and as she waits for the elevator she is left to wonder who those words were really for. She’s left to ponder that on the ride up, which seems to last so much longer than the four floors. Her heart was racing in her chest as she stepped out onto the correct floor, her feet following Carlos’s directions without much input from her mind. She was hardly breathing as she reached the correct door, but when she stepped across the threshold she could feel it all fall away at the sight of Nancy - unhurt and very much alive.

She is sitting in a chair off to the corner, staring out the dark window so intently she didn’t even hear Marjan enter. She didn't notice until Marjan paused a few steps from her and softly said her name. It’s only then that she turns from the window to see Marjan standing before her, and her breath catches.

“Marj, what are you doing here?”

Marjan stares at her for a moment before she splutters out a response. “What am I doing here?” she repeats indignantly. “Nancy, you were kidnapped and held hostage. Where else would I be?”

They stare at each other in silence for a few more moments before Nancy reaches for her and Marjan meets her in a heartbeat, sinking into the chair next to her and pulling her into her arms.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” she said into Nancy’s shoulder as she clutched her tightly. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t the one hurt,” Nancy replied softly, and Marjan hugged her even tighter.

“Just because you’re not hurt doesn’t mean you’re okay,” she reminded her softly. “Whatever you’re feeling now, it’s okay.”

There was silence for a few more moments before Nancy spoke again, voice so soft Marjan barely heard it, even being as close as they were.

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “I thought we were all going to die. For a while I thought I had lost another partner and now...I don’t know where to go from here.”

Marjan’s heart broke at the sound of the pain and fear still in her voice. She didn’t know what to say, so she settled for rubbing a soothing circle on her back.

“You’re all safe,” she said eventually, “and that’s what matters. Everything else we’ll figure out in time.”

The only response she got to that was a soft sniffle and Marjan couldn’t help the way her arms tightened around the other woman at the sound. She knew this would be hard, she knew there was not magic switch to throw to make it all better. She knew it would take time.

But she also knew that Tommy was unharmed and home with her family, that TK would be okay, and that Nancy was here and whole and in her arms. From this point, they could face anything. And none of them would do it alone. Tommy had Charles and her girls, TK had Carlos and Nancy, well...

“I’m not going anywhere,” Marjan reminded her softly, speaking the words into her hair and allowing them to fill this bubble they had formed. Maybe there were things to handle and people to call, but for now they had each other and that was more than enough.

------------

The next few weeks are mostly spent together. There are shifts and calls and the Ryder’s accident but almost every moment in between, Marjan realizes, she has spent with Nancy.

She is a shoulder to lean on as Nancy copes with the kidnapping but Marjan would be lying if she said she didn’t find their time spent together just as soothing. The fear that came with the idea of Nancy in danger is never far from her mind in those first few weeks. Then they lean on each other when faced with the fear and possibility of losing Judd and Grace. They celebrate the joy of their survival and their news together too, just as they do most everything these days.

Soon enough that is behind them though and even without a trauma to cope with Marjan still finds herself in the other woman’s company more often than not. She also finds that she doesn’t mind it, and that often she is the one seeking it out. Somehow Nancy Gillian became her closest friend when she wasn’t looking but Marjan can’t say she is too upset by that. There are far worse things to have stumbled into, she thinks.

After all nothing involving Nancy Gillian can be anything even remotely short of good, in her opinion.

------------

Marjan let herself into her apartment, Nancy on her heels.

“Marj,” she tries again, “it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees, “but it does matter what McKenna thinks. She thinks her husband dying was my fault, Nancy. What if she’s right? What if I had been able to save him if I had been just that much quicker? All I needed to save him was another thirty seconds. How long do you think that exchange on the overpass took?”

“Marjan,” Nancy said again, firmly this time, “don’t do that. You know as well as I do that asking those kinds of questions doesn’t do any good. If you start dwelling on that kind of stuff it’ll mess with your head and you can’t have that. What happened was awful and I am so sorry, but you need to move forward. It’s the only thing you can do.”

Marjan stepped away from her, wrapping her arms around her body. “I know that,” she admitted, voice thick, “but that doesn’t make it any better. He died, Nance. He died right in front of me because I wasn’t quick enough to save him. No amount of logic in the world is going to change how I feel about that.”

She could feel the tears starting to form and she went to turn away from her friend. But in the next moment arms wrapped around her, preventing her from straying any further.

“It’s okay to feel it,” Nancy told her gently. “You can cry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Marjan wanted to tell her that she was fine, that she could handle this on her own. But when she looked up to say as much and her eyes met Nancy’s, her resolve crumbled. Before she knew it she had dissolved into sobs, soaking the material of Nancy’s shirt as she held her gently, murmuring soothing words into her hair.

She knew this wasn’t a permanent solution, she knew there was still more she would have to do to move on from this. But in this moment and the safety of Nancy’s arms, she let it all come out.

---------

“I can’t believe it,” Nancy said as she and Marjan stepped into her apartment, flicking on the kitchen lights to chase away the early dawn darkness. “Can you even imagine, your entire life, gone just like that.”

“Not their lives,” Marjan reminded her as she set down her purse and leaned wearily against the counter, “alhamdulillah.”

“I know,” Nancy continued, “and I know in the grand scheme of things they were so lucky and I am beyond grateful that they’re okay but...this is going to be so much to move on from. I can’t even begin to fathom that.”

“Me neither,” Marjan admitted. “But they’ll be okay. They have each other, and they have us.”

“Us, huh?”

Marjan looked up sharply to see Nancy looking at her, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, you know — the 126. We’ll all be there for them.”

“Yeah, of course,” Nancy agreed hurriedly, looking away from her. It took Marjan all of three more seconds to realize what Nancy had meant and she cursed herself. This past day had been something, and her brain was fried. But she needed to address this, Nancy needed to know.

“I suppose that’s not the only ‘us’ though,” she hedged as she stepped closer. “I like them all an awful lot, but I can’t say I feel the same way about them as I do about you.”

“Oh?” Nancy asked and though her voice was purposefully casual, Marjan could see the hope in her eyes.

“I’ve come to care about you an awful lot,” she admits. “And, I don’t have a lot of experience with feelings like this, but I don’t think they are strictly friendly ones.”

Nancy was quiet for a second before she spoke again, “So either you're asking to be my arch nemesis or…”

Marjan rolled her eyes. “You are such a dork, I can’t believe I like you.”

“You like me?” Nancy replied quickly. “As in, you like me, like me?”

Marjan stepped closer, leaving barely an inch between them now. She could see every fleck of color in Nancy’s eyes, and it affected her in a way she had never quite experienced before.  

“I like you, like you, Nancy Gillian,” she said clearly, not wanting to beat around the bush. There was a time for being quippy and fun, and then there was this. She wasn’t willing to leave this to chance. She reached her hand across the small distance between them and found Nancy’s, tangling her fingers with her own. When she felt a squeeze in response, she smiled, leaning forward and resting her head against Nancy’s shoulder.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other in Marjan’s kitchen for a time she couldn’t quantify, but she savored every second that passed. Eventually Nancy broke the silence as she glanced out the window above the sink.

“It’s late, or early, I guess. I should go.”

Marjan stepped back, just enough to see Nancy’s eyes again, still clutching her hand with her own.

“Stay?” she asked. Nancy hesitated for a moment and Marjan pressed on, “It doesn’t have to be like that just...stay?”

The early morning silence drifted through the kitchen as Marjan studied Nancy. Then Nancy smiled at her and Marjan swore she felt her heart swell three sizes. She used their linked hands to pull them out of the kitchen and towards something new.

------------

The next morning Marjan woke up to find that she was not alone.

She smiled at the sight of Nancy beside her, still sleeping soundly. She shifted to try and get a better view of the marvel beside but her motions caused the other woman to stir and soon she was greeted with the equally wonderful sight of Nancy’s tired eyes blinking at her.

“Good morning,” she said softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Morning,” Nancy murmured less gracefully, a yawn jutting its way through her words, “what time is it?”

Marjan shrugged, “Not sure. Doesn’t matter though - it’s not like we have a fire station to go to work in.”

Nancy huffed a dry laugh as she shifted so she was on her side, facing Marjan. “You know until you said something I thought that maybe all that was a dream. Actually, until you said something, I thought this was a dream. It still might be, come to think of it.”

Marjan rolled her eyes and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Nancy’s forehead. “Does that feel like a dream?” she asked.

“Actually, yes, if I’m being honest.” Nancy replied and Marjan scoffed, reaching over to pinch the other woman’s arm. She yelped in surprise but Marjan only raised an eyebrow.

“Still think you’re dreaming?” she asked.

“No,” Nancy replied, “but I am starting to wonder if this mean side of you is a normal morning thing.”

“I don’t know,” Marjan said with a shrug, scotting closer to Nancy as she lay back down, “I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

------------

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

“Nance,” Marjan admonished, “stop being so dramatic. It’s fine!”

Nancy shifted so she was facing her. “It is not fine, Marj! I hate this. Not getting to see you at work is one thing, but not knowing where you’ll be working or if you’ll have a good team to watch your back? Your team is a collective pain in my ass at times, but I trust them. But now I’m just supposed to be okay with you doing what you do not knowing who is there to back you up? I’m not.”

Marjan rolled her eyes but she had to admit that the clear concern the paramedic had for her softened the gesture considerably. “Think about it this way,” she said instead, moving closer and running a hand up her arm as she spoke, “we’ve already survived numerous natural disasters and cataclysmic events. What more could there be?”

“I think that’s called tempting fate.”

“I think it’s called logic,” Marjan countered. “Hey,” she added when Nancy’s expression didn’t lighten, reaching out to twine their fingers together, “nothing is going to change. We’re still us, no matter what stations we’re working from.”

“You can’t say that,” Nancy argued softly, “because everything already has. And after everything...I couldn’t handle losing you too.”

While the concern still touched her, the fear in Nancy’s voice bore into her chest like a dull knife. “I can’t promise anything,” she said eventually, “you know that. Neither of us can make that promise because neither of us can guarantee that we’ll be able to keep it. But I can promise that I will do my best to come back to you every single day, no matter what.”

“I know that,” Nancy assured her softly, “I just can’t help but worry.”

Marjan leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, moved by the weight of her affection for her. “I know that because I feel the same way. But I’ll be fine, Nance. We’ll both be, you’ll see.”

------------

“What was that you were saying last night?” Nancy said to her as she opened her apartment door to let her in. “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘what more could there be?’ How does it feel to have tempted the gods, Marwani.”

Marjan scoffed and shut the door behind them as she followed Nancy into the kitchen. “It’s not like I caused the dust storm,” she parried back. “I didn’t actively put myself in that position. I wonder if the same could be said for everyone in this room or if maybe someone stole an ambulance and went out into a natural disaster of their own free will?”

Nancy froze before slowly turning to face Marjan, who was waiting with a single unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Okay,” she admitted, “that’s fair. And I’m sorry. It’s not like I’m mad at you for anything - you were just doing your job. I’m just…”

“Worried?” Marjan provided, “Because I was too. As soon as you guys had to pack up to head to another call I could feel it. I guess that’s something we’re going to have to get used to now.”

“Hmm,” Nancy agreed as she stepped into Marjan’s space, “that sucks.”

“It does,” Marjan agreed, reaching out her hands to rest on Nancy’s shoulders, “but you’re worth it.”

-------------

Marjan was woken up the next morning by the smell of breakfast coming from her kitchen. She frowned as she tried to remember what she had left out, but the sight of a rumpled and empty pillow beside her soon brought her clarity. She smiled as she pulled back the covers and climbed out of her bed, heading for the kitchen.

After the 126 hang at Captain Strand/Mateo/TK and Carlos’s house last night they had ended up back here, again. Marjan couldn’t say that she minded the new routine. It hadn’t been long but sleeping with the other woman beside her had become more and more of a habit as time went on and it wasn’t one she was looking to quit. Her smile only widened as she stepped into her kitchen to see Nancy at the stove sliding eggs onto two plates.

“Good morning,” she said softly as she drew closer, coming up behind Nancy and wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Good morning to you too,” Nancy quipped. “I was hoping the smell of turkey bacon would entice you out of bed.”

“It woke me up,” Marjan admitted, “but you not being there got me up. Turns out my bed is lonely without you.”

Nancy switched off the burner before turning, bending down to place a light kiss on her forehead. “I think I like the sound of that.”

“You better,” Marjan countered with a grin, “because it’s the truth.”

Nancy flushed brilliantly and Marjan’s grin grew, but any retort she could have made was interrupted by the sound of Marjan’s phone ringing.

“Hold that thought,” she murmured before stepping out of Nancy’s embrace and circling to the counter to grab her phone. She frowned at the screen as she picked it up, turning it so Nancy could see Captain Strand’s name on the screen.

“Cap?” She said in question as she answered. “Is everything alright?”  

“Everything’s fine,” he assured her and she couldn’t hide the deep sigh of release she let out at that, “better than fine actually. I have a plan, but I am going to need your help, if you’re willing. Well, you and the rest of the team.”  

“Sure,” she said, shifting the phone from her ear before putting it on speaker and placing it on the counter between them. “Name it, I’m sure we’ll be happy to help.”

“How do you feel about doing the 126 renovations ourselves? The red tape is going to take ages and I don’t know about you, but I’m eager to get the team back together as quickly as possible.”

She looked across the counter to see Nancy already grinning. “I think that sounds like a great idea Cap, just let me know what you need.”

“Just as many hands as we can get, though I hear you’re pretty good with mechanical stuff too so maybe a bit of that as well. Could you meet us at the station in two hours?”

“Sure thing Cap,” she replied, “I’ll be there and ready to get our team back.”

“That’s the plan,” Captain Stand agreed. “Oh, and one more thing. I hate to ask, but do you think you could pass it on to Nancy? I have TK out gathering supplies and I don’t want to put anything else on Captain Vega right now, and I’m embarrassed to say I don’t have her number.”

Marjan grinned across the counter to where Nancy was still standing, watching her with a warm smile.

“Not a problem Cap, she already knows. We’re together.”

Marjan doesn’t know if her Captain picks up on the double meaning of her words and she doesn’t care. All she does care is that she can say them; that they’re true. She cares that they are together. She might care more about that than she has really ever cared about anything.

She thinks that finally, she might know what love feels like, and she knows that whatever the future brings she’s ready to face it with her partner by her side.

[swanhookheart]

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed. 

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don’t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into. 

*Sigh* 

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me. 

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic. 

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth. 

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story.