#Prayer circle for me to be stable enough to take him with me after i move out uwu

[yakamozarda]

I wonder what type of cat mavis will grow into. He is very cuteee

[zorkaya-moved]

" you are always on about helping me," for someone whose voice usually comes in a subtle, warming tone, it has taken the turn for something more heated today as their debate, nay, argument had come to blossom as a result of long nights and dreadful projects. in the aftermath of the disagreement, kaveh will find himself in a pit of embarrassment and guilt for having stood his ground, but he couldn't accept it. he wouldn't accept it.

" to say that it's pride is only a portion of it, but i have never had to rely on anyone in my life --- i couldn't. there was simply no room for me to rely on anyone, let alone ask for it and --- that's why i can't stand by and simply allow you to help me, when you clearly do not wish me to help you in return. are we not equals ? do we not share a mutual form for respect, do you think less of me because you see yourself in a position to protect me and support me ? because i won't have you in such a position, zarina. "

it's not anger , per say , simply frustration. he is frustrated with how she puts up a mighty act of a stable, strong woman, for while she is ( archons know she is, she is so strong, and kaveh looks up to her in so many ways / had he been one for prayer, her feet would be the ones he'd find himself bowing to in seek of grace ) she remains as human as him at the end of the day. the pain and hurt he felt certainly were no strangers to her. does she not think he feels the way her face tends to drop the second he turns, or notice how her thoughts wander in the corner of his eyes when he find himself occupied by the desk ?

" let me look after you the way you look after me. let me take care of you the way you take care of me --- for it seems too long ago since anyone did the same for you. " crumbling in his stance ( is my love not enough for you ? ), the heated tone has come to falter in favor for a softer and honest one, as hands seek out to her cheeks, pleading to hold her tenderly in his grasp. " you are my life , zarina. how do you expect me to allow you to be my foundation when you refuse to accept it from me in return?"

@avaere

Their argument breaks out and nothing feels real for the first second. They’ve never argued like this before, it’s never come to this. It’s unusual for the architect to look at her like this and speak to her like this. It confuses her, it makes her wonder, and it makes her question exactly what brought this out. And the more words leave Kaveh’s mouth, the more confused and puzzled she becomes. It doesn’t make sense. It simply doesn’t make sense to her. Is he… not happy? Is he upset that she offers her support? Is he upset that she wants to keep him safe? It doesn’t seem logical nor does it seem like something he should be so frustrated over. The questions circle in her head and Zarina tries to search for an answer, but instead she’s met with a wall. She slams into it mentally as Kaveh keeps talking. 

—That's why I can't stand by and simply allow you to help me, when you clearly do not wish me to help you in return. Are we not equals?—

“We are…” Sokolova whispers to his question, still finding herself at a loss for words simply because she cannot fathom the reasoning for his upsetness, frustration, and fiery anger. It makes no sense for him to be hurt in her mind. 

 —Do we not share a mutual form for respect, do you think less of me because you see yourself in a position to protect me and support me?—

What are you talking about? Zarina asks internally, eyes empty and hollow at those words. Suddenly, his words echo in her head and she can’t find the will in herself to really suppress them. To her, everything he says right now simply doesn’t fit in her understanding. Is she not supposed to help him? Is this not proof of her love? Is this not enough for him to understand how much he means to her? Is this now what love is supposed to be about? 

Finally, Zarina isn’t weak to keep those she loves unprotected. She gained everything she needed to keep these important people safe. She has power, she has influence, she has money, she has it all. She has information on each and every important person in almost all of Teyvat. She has customers and clients who are of noble birth and who would beg for her to take a look at their cases. She has it all to ensure those she loves have a comfortable life. 

Because she, a woman who lacks any humanity behind her void gaze, can only feel human while being with them. They keep her a person. They keep her away from the numbness, void and hollowness. They keep her away from losing the joys and colors. They are her colors. Kaveh is her Sun and the person she wants to keep happy the most. 

But… 

—Because I won't have you in such a position, Zarina.—

…I’m strong enough to be in that position, am I not? Why don’t you just let me do it?  

She isn't weak. She isn’t weak anymore to have others fuss over her. She doesn’t have anyone to worry over her and try to keep her from harm’s way. Now she can take care of herself, she can protect others like she always wanted. There won’t be laughs of men cruelly kicking her and calling her a little princess, there won’t be Victor hurt while trying to protect her, there won’t be Aleksey who they fret over as her parents are gone, and there won’t be any other people they’d be indebted to who can use them for their own ridiculous schemes. 

No, she’s climbing to the top and it means she won’t have anyone look at her or her family the wrong way. She can tear apart anyone who dares to mistreat her or her family. She has everything to keep herself occupied, interested, away from the deafening silence and frigidness. 

Ah, but that’s not it. That’s not what Kaveh says and that’s where the dissonance happens. Her past clashes against her present.  

Why do you look at me like Victor did? I’m stronger now. I can protect you. I won’t be hurt anymore. There’s no need to worry, no need to try and protect me, I’m fine. I’m…

—Let me take care of you the way you take care of me --- for it seems too long ago since anyone did the same for you.—

His tone crumbles and she can see him reaching out. After all, she had no second to input any of her words into this conversation. His stream of words hit her a bit harder than she’d ever expected. It makes her confused, all too confused and lost.  

This means that she hasn't been successful or what does it mean? It makes her think of Victor who’s been trying to take care of her when she was rescued. It makes her think of how when she came to Sumeru, she was looked down on by Scholars and those who were against Snezhnaya. Now they love or hate her, seeking her out despite pride and prejudice because they know she’s stronger. Isn’t it fun to see those people crawl to her? 

It makes her think of her selfishness, her indulgence, her sick satisfaction with reaching the top and watching people who underestimated her crumble before her feet. But then it all dissipates, she’s grown bored and sought out more. Like a ravenous beast in the body of a beauty. All hedonistic indulgences fade with time aside from sex and planning. The long-standing plans hold her interest for a little while longer until she’s left disappointed or satisfied for a medium period of time. It all fades, but not the warmth she feels when she’s with those she loves. Not with Victor, Aleksey, Kaveh… Not with them. Not with him. 

Oh, but Kaveh reaching out to her both emotionally and physically almost makes her feel fear. Almost, if not for her control over the internal state. It’s a titanium hold, but when his hands touch her cheeks, Sokolova feels something inside start to crack. The whispers in her mind say over and over again how he’d find her revolting, tyrannical, and cruel. He doesn’t know how little care for the world and its riches she has. 

She’s always lived selfishly, so giving to her loved ones feels like what she can do. After acquiring everything because her selfish self wanted to see how far she’d be able to reach, this development seems to be… baffling. 

His touch and his last words bring her out of that stupor. Still, confused and puzzled over these confessions within the argument, she feels at a loss. Emotions aren’t her strongest forte. Nay, genuine emotions aren’t her strongest forte. Zarina knows how to use them, manipulate them, and twirls them for her own benefit, but right now? It’s not about manipulation and malice. It’s not about shadows and darkness. It’s not about survival. It’s about… love, trust, and communication. 

Everything she wanted to protect since childhood yet never surrounded herself with until return home or when Kaveh was by her side. 

“What do you mean you don’t help me with anything?” She suddenly asks, her voice coming out genuinely puzzled but her eyes… Her eyes are bleak and cloudy, no, they’re hollow and empty when she begins. His hands against her cheeks feel so hot, her own body feels so cold. Is it because of her vision or is it because she remembered everything from that past? She doesn’t understand him, or does he not get the amount of things he does for her without knowing? “You always do. You’re the only one here who does.”

No one in Sumeru matters. No one in several regions matters aside from Snezhnaya where her brothers stay. Kaveh doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the ‘survival of the fittest’ rule she lives by, rules by, orders by. 

Zarina brings her left hand up, touching his hand but she doesn’t yet grasp it. Her fingertips grave over the fabric covering his wrist. She worries that if she grasps it, she’ll break it. Zarina recalls her first hunt in the snowy plains of Snezhnaya. She doesn’t want to break him.

“You make the nightmares go away. You make me feel safer than I’ve ever felt since…” The agonizing pain, the loud screams, the laughter of those who had control. “...since I was hurt,” Sokolova looks away for a moment, her words feel like they’re spilling out as if in desperation to get him to hear, to understand, to give him enough to have an idea but not dive into details (not yet). “You indulge me, you give me your time. There’s no silence, no hollowness, no void. You make me feel…”

Clarity returns to her golden eyes. The silverette takes a second to breathe, finally letting her fingers wrap around his wrist (tenderly, carefully). Her shoulders drop, her expression is one of light exhaustion and still flickers of bewilderment. 

“You make me feel human.”

It must be so strange to hear, isn’t it? To feel human. Isn’t she almost the most beloved in all Sumeru for her scholarly achievements, for her charismatic nature, for her connections and for her being the strongest candidate for the Amurta Sage? And yet, Zarina knows better than anyone that those achievements are not done for the sake of gratitude or betterment of the world. It’s selfish, it’s ambitious, it’s all out of boredom and pettiness. 

“You never ask for anything. I have power, I have money, I have connections, I have it all, but you never ask for anything,” she starts off. “You are my equal, if you were not…” She lets out a soft chuckle, but it’s sharp and cold. “...I wouldn’t fall for you, love you, treasure you, want to give you as much as I can. If you were not my equal, you’d be lost in the sea of faces I meet.” 

Golden eyes return to look at him, but she doesn’t smile nor show any emotion. If anything, she’s stone cold, but not guarded. She doesn’t hide, but there’s no bright light in her gaze and in her behavior.

“Do you… really think that I’ve reached all of what I have today through honored and honest work, Kaveh?” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, but her golden eyes are growing colder the more she thinks about what she’s done… and how she feels no guilt or remorse or regret over everything. The people’s screams, the Abyssals’ pleas for mercy, the blood, the merciless ends, the survival. “Do you really think that I don’t see you as my equal? If I didn’t care about you or saw you as my equal, you would’ve never even gotten a glimpse of who I am. Like everyone else in Teyvat.”

A hard hitting sentence, isn’t it? Especially said with that razor-sharp gaze and a voice that got deeper as if she growled it out. But instead of showing the same cold-hearted ferocity, she presses her lips together and looks away from him as if ashamed. It’s not that she’s ashamed of who she is, but she is unsure of how much more she can say. 

“I… don’t know how to let others care for me,” she admits. “I don’t know how to stop protecting who I care about. And I don’t think… You’ll look at me the same if you learned the things I have to do to survive…” But also because when you’re not here, the boredom and silence come back in full force and I return to those frigid days. “What if the person you love is only kind to you, Kaveh? Will you hate me for it?” 

There’s a glimpse of cracks, of a weight no one ever expects someone to carry. But she doesn’t mind that. If it means she’s indulged and her family is protected, it means nothing. Is she really human when she does not feel any remorse for all the things she’s done? Perhaps, the only remorse and sadness comes when it comes to Kaveh. What if he fell in love with a phantom? What if her sharper and crueler sides will scare him away? There’s no fixing that. It’s simply who she is. 

“I don’t understand you.” Her lips are pressed together in frustration. “I don’t understand what you mean by taking care of me more than you already do. I don’t understand what you want from me right now. All these riches, all these connections, all of what I have… They are nothing compared to what you’ve given me. You taught me that I can love, I can experience love, I can feel it.” She brings her other hand up to touch his, but then pries his hands away from her face to hold them instead. “And yes, it doesn’t make the world better and it doesn’t make colors seem brighter, but it settles me down. It makes me… think that a normal life isn’t out of the question for me.”

 Then, Zarina laughs. But it’s hollow and bitter and feels like shattering. 

“To accept your help, I must give up control… of everything I am. And if I do,” she lets out a soft exhale. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick myself up if you reject me.” 

Finally, she smiles but that smile is soft and careful. Not sharp, not hollow, not cold. It’s more familiar to him. It’s more genuine, it’s as genuine as she can muster when her mind remembers everything she does behind his back to remain on top. She cannot simply end everything she rules over, it’s already too late. Too many people want her head, too many people rely on her, too many people have their eyes on her, too many people wait for her word like their only prayer.

“You are my lifeline, Kaveh. You already give me so much, I want to…” She gives his hands a squeeze, gaining up courage to say the next words. He’s more important to her than everything she’s acquired. She’s lived her life selfishly already. “But alright. I don’t yet understand, and that’s why… Can you teach me… how to let you care for me in a way you meant?” Without this iron control over everything. As she holds his hands in her own, she bends down to press her forehead against his knuckles. A beast offering its leash to another, she hopes he won’t turn away the more she opens up. “But please, I’m begging you, give me time to tell you everything. My life belongs to you, you are my heart. I still don’t understand, I probably will struggle, but be my guide here. So please,” she straightens up and gives him another small smile. She’s trying. It’s obvious. She’s trying against everything she’s been taught by life, by experience, by struggle and torturous existence. But for him? She’s trying. It’s tense, but she’s trying. “Be a patient teacher with me. I’ve never… been protected… and I haven’t been cared for since my childhood.”

[blahkugo]

𝟕 ༒ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔡𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔶

⤷ dirty valentine m.list

⤷ complete hq m.list

wakatoshi ushijima — adultery / cucking

a/n: fucked around and made this kinda sad </3 that wasn’t in the plan but oh well

wc: 2.2k

tw: infidelity (obviously), exhibitionism / car sex, (1) forced orgasm, sadness (lmaooo)

“We can’t.”

It’s a phrase constantly crawling on the tip of your tongue—whispered beneath the flickering lights of club bathrooms or dimly-lit restaurant tables, sighed in grimy alleyways, and whined beneath stolen sheets. They’re words that exist everywhere, but always, always in the dark.

In the dark, it doesn’t feel so wrong.

“Stop it,” you hiss, swatting at the grabby hands on your hips. You ignore the fact that you allow his fingers to graze you for a second too long, pretend that his every touch is meaningless, does nothing to set your skin on fire or send your heart beating out of its cage.

Unapologetic and unyielding, it seemed ‘Toshi never quite understood the concept of personal space when it came to you. Even as kids, it was always welcomed; not once did you think him a nuisance. Not after a long night of too much tequila, when you crawled into bed together at age 17, not when you awoke the next morning enveloped in the larger man’s warm embrace, and not even when it happened again—and again, and again, and again.

‘Strictly sexual,’ you’d assert, huddled around a group of high school friends pressed for dirty details, but even then you didn’t believe it. Because the truth is plain as day: you’re in love with him.

But you are not in love with the ring on his left hand, four fingers down.

That same bejeweled digit grips your waist beneath the table right now, kneading and tickling at slick skin. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t have to, because his hand knows you’ll be there. Always there, always trembling, while your eyes flit back and forth between the side of his head and the door—feigning innocence while knowing his wife is just a few rooms away.

“I said stop, ‘Toshi,” your voice betrays you, hitching with every tap of his fingers. Though he finally turns to meet your eyes, he doesn’t slow or halt his movements, just stares unblinking for a long while.

It’s a feat not many attempt—the art of the long, fixed stare—yet, Ushijima has perfected it. And it would drive you absolutely insane if you didn’t know that with the towering man, there is no deceit in that gaze; what you see is what you get.

“We’re leaving,” his words come slow, but stern. And before you can utter a word of disagreement, he’s already got his coat on, his keys clinking in the palm of his hands. He doesn’t bother with her, simply calls to the other room, “I’ll be back love.”

She doesn’t question it, never does, but if it’s because she doesn’t want to or he never gives her the chance, you’re not quite sure. Either way, you’ve decided you don’t have the time to care, because you’re already out the door and in his sleek, black Escalade before you can bat an eye.

The ride back to your place is silent, as much of your time is with Ushijima now. It’s not a terrible predicament, might even be comfortable, but you can’t deny the slight turn in your gut when you glance towards him.

Is it guilt? Is it knowing precisely what will happen the moment he halts the car in a shaded area—always a shaded area, even when the sun is down—and bores into you once more with those olive eyes?

Or is it just anticipation?

You know the truth too well to lie. It’s felt it in every clench of your thighs, every gaze at hulking biceps as one hand grips the steering wheel, and every slow inch of his free hand up your thigh. He rubs soft circles into the skin mindlessly, a motion he’s too used to doing to think immoral.

But it is, or it should be. Because Ushijima knows exactly how this is going to end, knows that same hand will be picking at forbidden fruit before long—delving into a sweet nectar even Adam and Eve wouldn’t dare lay a finger on.

“You can just let me out here,” you attempt to avoid the inevitable, only to be ignored. He walks you up to your apartment, always does. Ushijima’s a man of honor, after all. Shows honor to his teammates, to his body, to his poor, sweet wife waiting at home; he’s just so good like that, you know?

You’re not in love with your fingers when they’re a prickly green, clenched against the cold leather seat.

Once he parks in a tight corner, far from any night owl neighbor’s prying eyes, he finally turns to you again. Maybe it’s the moon, the soft wisps of light that seem to strike him at the perfect angles, or perhaps it’s the devil’s sweet temptation—the simple knowledge that he wants it too. You’re not quite sure, but you can’t help yourself anymore.

Not when you climb across your seat and into his lap, not when you wrap your arms around him and pull close, and especially not when you nuzzle into his neck, inhaling enough pine and patchouli—the cologne he’s been wearing since you complimented it so many years ago—to last you for years to come.

“Missed you,” you exhale into warm skin.

“I see you everyday.”

“Still missed you.” And though Ushijima doesn’t say much, his arms pull you in just a bit tighter—and it says enough.

Before you know it, your nuzzles become open mouthed kisses, frantically peppered across the golden skin of his neck. There’s not enough time, never enough time, to appreciate Ushijima for what he’s worth.

But you try your damned hardest, sucking the skin just hard enough to elicit sharp inhales, but never to leave marks of your worship. This is the devil’s game after all, tempting you just enough to become enamored while knowing he’s not yours.

When he wraps a hand around your neck to tug you away, your stomach drops with disappointment for a moment. This is it, the moment you’ve always dreaded; Ushijima’s ready to end this crime of passion and go back to being the dutiful husband he is. But he only uses the movement to smash your lips together, to situate his broad arms at your hips, your waist, the little dip at the small of your back.

Ushijima’s kisses are much like his presentation to the world—sturdy, unwavering, stable. He isn’t sloppy or especially fervent like you are, clinging to him with need. His makeouts are a reassurance, a tiny pocket of home. Still, his body seems to betrays that show of strength, goosebumps running up the sides of his arms as you graze them, chest heaving while his tongue runs across your teeth and settles into yours.

“Take it off,” he snaps the waistband of your sweats, watchful eyes roaming the small stretch of skin. It’s a simple command, one that you follow happily, wiggling out of your clothing with a few soft giggles.

Your hands dart beneath his shirt, lightly scratching at the solid muscle that seems to tense beneath your touch. “You too,” you murmur between pecks, and when he doesn’t comply, “please.”

As soon as his chest is visible, you’re on him. It’s a feeling you can never get enough of, the smooth expanse of his pecks beneath your lips, licking and suckling at any inch you can get your mouth on. It’s fun, addicting even, but ‘Toshi’s reaction is what truly makes it worthwhile.

His breath hitches all at once, legs stiffening beneath you as fingernails dig crescents into your waist. Experimentation in college taught you that if you lick at his nipples, he might even let out a soft moan or two. And the sound makes you keen with desire, even if it is a bit comical (who’d have known the big, Adonis of a man likes getting his chest played with?)

For a brief moment, you wonder if she knows, before quickly dispelling the thought. This is your time with him, and besides–

“Oh– fuck,” you whine, brought back by Ushijima’s long middle finger grazing your slit. “Again.”

This time, you don’t have to say please.

Despite the lack of space, he takes his time sinking his fingers into you and—given the length you’re about to be taking—you appreciate the deed. He works you open, pumping you with a single digit before adding another.

Those lithe fingers don’t let up until you’re shaking, gripping his shoulders, mumbling prayers and curses into his skin. Every circle at your clit makes you gasp, every squelch of his fingers curling inside your tight cunt only makes you wetter.

“Let go,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, waiting oh-so patiently, even as his cock strains against your ass. Once, when he’d drunk enough to become uncharacteristically vocal, he’d confessed his favorite feeling was your ‘warm hole clenching around him’ when you reached your peak.

It’s that sudden memory that makes you shake your head, exhaling a distressed ‘nuh uh’ while he continues pressing into you. Ushijima’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before he ticks his jaw, the thumb on your clit simply moving faster to expel—what he thinks is—a sudden burst of brattiness. “I said,” he presses at the spot that makes your stomach drop, “cum.”

“Wait- ah, fuck– fuck!” Try as you might, you can’t stop the wave of pleasure that washes over you, your toes curling, head resting on his shoulder to steady yourself as you ride out your high. All the while, his fingers never stop moving, free hand shifting to stroke at your sweat-soaked hair while you tremble and clutch at him with shaky arms.

When he finally lets up, you remove your face from the crook of his neck, looking to Ushijima once more only to find him staring. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown over so heavily with lust, it lights you with a fervor and—as is the hulking man’s usual effect on you—you find yourself unable to think before moving.

You’re frenzied, kissing him once more, carding fingers through his hair, and tugging hard enough to elicit sharp gasps. You’re never quite so aggressive with him, typically leaving the dominance of it all to your insatiable counterpart, but the guttural moan that leaves his lips when you unsheath him only spurs you further.

“I wanted to ride you,” you speak while lining his cock against your slick cunt, “wanted to feel you inside me before I came.”

And with that simple sentence, your little moment of power comes to a close. Ushijima sinks into you with one quick movement, stretching you in a way that makes your skin burn and your gut heavy. Your arms are quickly bound behind you by his own, used as mere handles to pull you down against him with every thrust.

Even as you cry out, faint mumbles mounting to incoherent wails, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of reprieve. The air is thick, humid, filled with Ushijima’s low grunts, subtle curses, and the ever-enticing command to ‘stop whining and fucking take it.’

You know he doesn’t typically speak this way, knows that he says it for you and you alone—that he loves the way it makes your eyes widen and your mouth slacken, thighs snapping closed as you attempt to hold off for just a bit longer. It never works, because he knows you just as well. Every inch of your body feels empty when his hands aren’t roaming them, when he isn’t tweaking a finger against your pebbled nipples or running a warm palm up the small of your waist.

“Close?” He grunts, throwing his head back against the seat, unrelenting in pace. You can do nothing but let out garbled responses, crosses between ‘God, yes,’ and disjointed cries of his name over and over again. “Go ahead,” it’s less a green light and more a command, “cum for me.”

His dirty words may be curated for you, but it’s always the honesty of his eyes that sends you over. With Ushijima, what you see is what you get, and you swear it’s love you see—pure, unadulterated, clear as day.

When you feel yourself beginning to peak, it’s his eyes, of course, that render you immobile. You can’t bring yourself to settle into the crook of his neck, to bite his shoulder or screw your face shut. There is nothing to do but to look at him—to try and master the art of the long, fixed stare as he has—and fall apart.

“Oh fuck– ‘Toshi,” your mouth can’t keep up with the pleasure washing over you, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I love you.”

They’re words you’ve never dared utter, not like this, but once they’re out you can’t seem to stop yourself. They become a mantra, a broken record, a prayer that perhaps he’ll say them right back to you. Again and again, riding out your high as you shake and tremble and exhaust yourself with the words. I love you. I love you. I love you.

But words called out in the dead of night mean nothing to the day.

[author-morgan]

Hi there! So I have a request for Eivor if it hasn't already been requested yet and if you have the time. Since I've started to play the game I love the Cairn stone events. I would love it if you could possibly write something with Eivor teaching his young daughter about them and teaching her how to stack them.

man, i wish i loved the cairns as much as you. i've never wanted to throw my controller through the tv more, not to mention the one i spent almost 2 hours on. but gosh if this isn't super cute, so here you go, Eivor teaches his and your daughter how to stack stones. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SVANDÍS PROTESTS WHEN you veer from the path leading down to the wharf, instead taking to one of the benches outside the longhouse. Sitting down with a long and heavy sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow —it is only a spring morning with a cool breeze, but the aches and sniffles from the prior evening have taken hold. Valka will tell you it is a spring fever and that rest, and a good meal is the best remedy, but you have an antsy five-year-old on the verge of tears, tugging at your skirts. “But you promised!” She pouts.

“I know” —you stroke back her blond hair, already in disarray from chasing rabbits— “I know, little one, and I am sorry.” Svandís crosses her arms and looks up at you with those clear blue eyes that are impossible to resist, yet another reflection of her father. You sigh, wiping the dirt from her cheek. Breaking promises never feels good, especially ones made to your young daughter, even if it was to stack stones. “All I need is a few days of rest, and then we can go,” you assure her. Where are you, Eivor?

As though the gods have heard your silent prayers, two long horn blasts echo around Ravensthorpe and the surrounding forests. Shortly after, the longship docks —Eivor and his crew dispersing among the settlement. “Eivor!” You call, waving to him as he nears the longhouse —a smile blossoming on his travel-worn countenance when he sees you and his daughter. Little Svandís darts to her father quick as an arrow. He scoops her up into his arms, pressing short kisses across her cheeks and forehead, laughing as she does. Her arms wrap around his neck as he balances her on his arm.

Eivor places Svandís back on the ground, frowning as he sees the pallor tinting your complexion and the sheen of sweat on your brow. “Are you ill?” He asks, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead before you can give him an answer —your skin is hot to the touch, his frown deepens.

“Spring fever,” you tell him, swatting his hand away, “nothing rest will not solve.” He knows it to be true. A few days rest would see you right as rain, but for now, he’ll take his chances and kiss his wife. Eivor bends down, his lips wind-chapped from the sea and river, but his kiss is gentle and sweet, a way to say I love you without speaking. When he pulls away, he brushes the wisps of hair clinging to your forehead aside and lays a quick kiss there too, sitting next to you.

Svandís’s excitement has already worn away —the pout on her lips is back. If she can’t get her way with you, then she knows her father won’t be able to deny her. “And what is wrong with you, my little shieldmaiden?” Eivor asks, picking Svandís up and setting her on his knee. She crosses her arms, squinting at you —still crestfallen.

“Mama promised she was gonna teach me how to stack stones,” she tells him.

Eivor’s lips curl into a smile beneath his golden beard —longer and shaggier than you are used to seeing. “She was?” Svandís nods. “Well, do you want to know who taught her to stack stones?” He inquires, raising a brow, eyes flitting to you. She looks between you and Eivor, blue eyes wide and questioning. “I did,” he tells her, boastful, smile widening as her arms uncross, already seeing the next question popping into her racing mind. “And my mother taught me when I was just a boy,” Eivor explains.

He strokes back Svandís’s messy braids and looks to you with a wide smile, grateful to have the chance to be the one to teach his daughter the art of making cairns. Eivor reaches for your hand and cranes his head down, blond whiskers tickling your skin before his lips brush against your knuckles. “Let your mother rest, Svandís,” he says, letting your hand go as he stands, shifting Svandís up onto his shoulders, “I know just the spot.”

EIVOR PULLS BACK on the reins of his chestnut horse, bringing the beast to a halt next to a bend in the River Nene. He slides from the saddle, then lifts Svandís, setting her on the riverbank. “First,” he says, freeing a woven sack from his belt, “we must gather our stones.” Crouching down, he picks up a stone, smooth and flat —like a honey cake— and places it in his daughter’s hand, letting her feel the weight and rounded edges. “Look for ones that are smooth and flat,” Eivor explains, knowing those are the ones to make for easy stacking for a young novice. It does not take long for them to fill the small sack with river stones —setting back off for the hilltop.

Cresting the hill reveals a vista to the north, overlooking the river and green rolling hills of Mercia —a calm and quiet place, good for clearing the mind, easing the soul, and stacking stones. Eivor sets Svandís to the ground, lowering the sack of stones too before dismounting —breathing in the crisp spring air, lingering with the scent of wildflowers, honeysuckle, and rain. Eivor eyes the patch of wild daisies growing beneath the shade of an ash tree, thinking they’d make a sweet gift for you to keep bedside.

Turning out the stones, he sits, first watching as Svandís eagerly begins stacking the stones. The short piles fall to shambles with her careless haste, but this is part of the learning process. “Failure is part of it, Svandís,” Eivor consoles when she lets out a frustrated groan, her wobbling tower of stone finally crumbling. He sees his younger self reflected in his daughter’s disappointment, remembering the times when his cairns would teeter and fall. He swore never to bother with them again —his mother laughed, knowing her son wouldn’t be able to stand failing at anything in life. He leans forward, resting a hand on her small shoulder. “Think of it as a test of mind,” Eivor says, tapping her noggin before picking up and reordering the felled stones. “You need patience and perseverance.”

Taking the broadest stone from their collection, he smooths over the ground before them both, knocking away small pebbles and little twigs —creating a good base on which to build. Eivor takes the largest and flattest stone, placing it first. “See?” He says, recalling how his mother first explained it to him. “You want the flattest and largest stones near the bottom to build a strong foundation.” Looking over the scattered stones, he picks another one, setting it atop the first —twisting and flipping to find the best way to place it. He nods for Svandís to try again.

Svandís places another stone atop the two already there, echoing her father’s motion of twisting and turning to find the best place to set it. She looks over her shoulder, seeking assurance and approval, Eivor nods, and the cairn grows taller. Before she places some of the last stones, Eivor stills her hand, hovering over the stack. “Don’t let go until you are certain they will not fall,” he tells her in a low breath. She nods, carefully placing the last three stones. The stack is small —not even reaching the height of his father’s bearded axe— but it stable, unmoving in the wind or Svandís’s excited outburst.

“Just like with everything, it takes practice,” Eivor reminds her, wrapping an arm around her small waist. The first cairns he stacked with his mother and father as a boy were just as unimpressive, but he lived and learned and soon could stack them higher than he was tall. He grins with pride, seeing Svandís smile. “The more you stack, the taller they’ll grow,” he tells her, lifting his hand in the air, “and one day you just might make one tall enough to see the home of the gods.”

Eivor reaches into the small pouch at his hip, pulling out two small red-green apples. “Did Uncle Sigurd ever stack stones with you?” Svandís asks, settling next to Eivor, taking the slice of apple he holds out.

“No,” Eivor laughs, recalling the times Sigurd would bother him while trying to make cairns, “he stole my stones more often than naught and called me troll-toothed.” Svandís giggles. The commotion piques Sýnin’s curiosity from where he circles above on an updraft of wind. Sýnin swoops down, landing on Eivor’s shoulder —the raven’s head tilts this way and that as he observes the short stacks of stones, thinking one to be a good perch. The raven hops down, beats his wings once, and settles atop the last stack Svandís built —preening his blue-black feathers. “Look,” Eivor announces, merry with pride, “you’ve built a cairn sturdy enough for Sýnin to perch.” The raven croaks in agreement, bobbing his head up and down. Svandís leans forward, rubbing Sýnin’s head with one of her fingers, smiling when his croaks turn to soft gurgles.

Looking to the sky, Eivor sees the first dark clouds rolling in from a distance, shrouding part of the sun. It will rain later. “Come, little one,” he says, rising with a soft groan —a reminder he is not so young anymore— “I think it’s time we check on your mother.” He goes to the patch of daisies, taking a handful and severing them from the earth with the throwing axe at his back before whistling to his horse. It is an easy ride back to Ravensthorpe, through the forest, and across a shallow parting in the river.

Stabling the chestnut mare, Eivor kneels outside the fence where Svandís waits, bouncing on her toes. He hands her the small bouquet of daisies so that she may give them to you, though before he can stand, she leaps into his arms, squeezing tight. “Thank you for teaching me, father,” Svandís says, almost a whisper.

Eivor brushes back her hair, kissing his daughter’s forehead, eyes crinkled with his smile. “And I am thankful to have been able to teach you,” he answers, swallowing the lump of heavy emotion rising in his throat. “Now, let's tell your mother about our day,” he says, still smiling, scooping Svandís up when he rises. For a second, Eivor does not move, his gaze skyward to the setting sun, a silent prayer of gratitude on his lips, and a hope that he will live to have many more days like this with his little shieldmaiden.

[ taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @pat-talks ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[thefallennightmare]

Hard to Love [19/?]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 2748

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I couldn’t leave you guys hanging all night! TBH, I’m not sure how much longer this series is going to go. I’ve got a few things in my brain but well see how long this lasts! As always, enjoy :) 

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno  @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8​ @raabrakha​ @stxvercgersslut​

Chris’ POV. 

A broken sigh fell from my lips as I sat on the back patio, Scott and my mom sitting at the table next to me. They had been here for the morale support, knowing that if I was still left alone, I would have gone insane. 

The bags under my eyes had darken, my facial hair had grown longer than I usually like; I hadn’t had the will to shave. My long hair was matted on my head, refusing to get off the couch to shower. I didn’t want to risk missing her phone call. 

“How long has it been?” Scott asked, his voice breaking the last ten minute silence. 

I looked at my watch and choked back a sob. “Almost 48 hours.” 

“They’ll find her, honey,” My mom rubbed my back. 

Running a hand over my face, I nodded. “I keep thinking that if we haven't fought that night, she would be home right now. I can’t believe those were my last words to her. What if that’s all she's going to remember if she di-.” 

I wasn’t able to finish my sentence, a loud sob replacing my words. 

“Chris, you can’t think like that. You have to think positive.” Scott stated. 

“How can I?!” I yelled while I stood to my feet, the chair scraping on the pavement.

“Her crazy ex husband has her! For all the cops know, he could have killed her the second he hit her with the bat!” 

My voice was deep and bellowed through my backyard. Thankfully it was only us outside so I didn't need to explain myself to anyone. 

The news of Y/N’s kidnapping unfortunately had been on every news channel local to Boston and Chad’s face was plastered all over social media, hoping any tips would pour in. My phone had non stop messages from family, friends, and fans. A lot of the fans thought it was a hoax since I hadn’t said one word about it. 

“Any tips come in online?” My mother asked. 

“Nothing, everyone thinks it’s a hoax,” I sighed. 

“Why don’t you say something?” Scott suggested. 

I looked at him skeptically. “I don’t know how that would help.” 

“You have a huge fanbase, Chris; especially around Boston. It doesn't hurt,” Scott said. 

Sucking on my bottom lip, I tossed the thought around in my head, back and forth back and forth, until I decided with a nod. Someone would be able to find something. 

I stepped away from them while pulling out my phone and clicked the live button on Instagram, taking a deep breath beforehand. The light had turned green, indicating I was live. 

“Hey everyone. I’m sure a lot of you heard the news about Y/N. First off, I want to say that it is true. She was abducted a few blocks from here almost 48 hours ago. The cops have evidence that her ex is behind it but they’re having trouble finding where he took her.” 

I ran a hand through my hair and continued. “We’ve been together for almost a year and she means the world to me; almost as much as Dodger. Hell, even more than Dodger. She’s everything to me, I need her back home. So if any of you have any information please pass it along to Boston PD. Or you can even send it to me but please, I beg you, serious leads only. I love her. Let’s bring Y/N home. Thank you guys, you are simply the best fans. I love you all.” 

The live ended and immediately I noticed the outpouring coming from everyone that had watched the live, letting me know that Y/N was in their prayers and that they would help bring her home. 

A few tears rolled off my cheeks and I let out a shaky breath, holding back the sobs. My mom snuck up behind me and wrapped herself around me, pulling into a much needed hug. 

My body crumbled in her embrace and the sobs became louder, burning our ears. I could help but grip my fingers into my moms back, even if she was shorter than I, but suddenly I was a little kid again. She always knew when I needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on. She knew exactly what I needed to get over heartbreak and she knew exactly when to back off when I needed space. 

Right now I needed her. 

After a few moments, I finally pulled away from her and thanked her with a kiss to the cheek. 

“Thanks mom,” I forced a smile to my face. 

“Of course,” she cupped my cheek, “I’m going to make you something to eat.” 

I went to protest but she immediately hushed me, saying that I looked like I hadn’t eaten in days. 

It was true. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you?” My mother asked.

Scott sat behind the wheel while I leaned against the window of the passenger side in front of my mom. They stayed for a few hours after dinner and when the clock struck seven, I knew that they should head back home to rest; they’d been by my side all day. 

 “I’ll be fine, I’ve got Dodger.” I nodded. 

“Chris,” she tsked. 

“Ma, I’ll be fine. If I need anything, I’ll call.” I reassured her. 

Her hand rested on my cheek and with sad eyes, she nodded. “She’ll come home.” 

“I know. What’s killing me is not knowing-.” 

“Chris?” 

Looking to my left, my shocked eyes watched in horror as the figure walked towards me. I scurried away from Scott’s car, closer to the figure. She looked broken, bare feet tore up with cuts, but what caused my lips to tremble was the blood that covered her dress. 

“Y/N?” My lips quivered. “Baby?” 

Readers POV.

The soles of my heels burned with every step I took, closer and closer to my destination. The pavement scratched and cut my bare skin and I hissed in pain after every few steps. I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking but knew that I had a bit more to go. 

A soft breeze tangled around my legs, causing the cuts to sting and I let out another hiss of pain. I pulled the jacket closer around me, blocking out the view from anyone I had walked past, which thankfully wasn’t many. I was in a part of town that the scene of me, disheveled and cut all over was nothing new. I could feel all parts of my hair was matted and stuck to my face, the sweat and blood dried a long time ago. 

As the sun began to set, I knew I had to make it back before dark. This part of town was worse at night, but compared to what I had endured, that didn’t scare me. Nothing could scare me anymore. 

Time passed slowly as the streets started to become familiar and as my tired feet turned the corner, the familiar three story home that had all those windows slowly came into view. The closer I got, the bigger the windows looked. My heart leaped into my chest when I saw him leaning against a car, talking with someone I couldn’t see. It didn’t matter, however, all that mattered what that I had made it back; back home to him. 

“Chris?” My voice was raw and broken, barley coming past my lips. 

He pushed himself off the car, taking large strides towards me. His hand outstretched and shook, afraid that I wasn’t real. 

“Y/N? Baby?” 

Everything seemed to slow as I stood in front of him, broken and a mess, knowing that with the look in his eyes that he hadn’t slept since I left. 

“Is that...blood? Oh, god, please tell me it isn’t blood,” he cried, pulling me into his arms. 

I broke down in a sobbing mess in his chest, the hell from the past few days finally catching up to me. 

“It’s not mine,” I choked between sobs. 

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you,” Chris cooed, large hands rubbing circles on my back. 

His body shook with sobs, happy that I had found my way home and sad from everything that happened to me. 

“We should get you to a hospital, baby.” Chris cupped my face. 

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine but I couldn’t force myself to close the distance; thankfully Chris understood. 

“I’m fine,” I tried to fight. 

“You’re not fine, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the hospital.” Chris begged with sad eyes. 

Eventually I nodded. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I knew the cops would get called which meant I had to tell them what happened; something I wasn’t ready to tell. 

Silence was all we heard, threatening to pull us in deeper, as we waited for the doctor to return with the officer; they wanted to go over everything with them in the room. I agreed.  

Chris had his eyes trained hard on the floor, his body unreadable. 

“Chris?” My voice was quiet. 

He slowly looked up. “Do you need something?” 

I nodded and patted the spot next to me on the hospital bed. “Can you sit with me? I really need you right now.” 

In a flash he was up from the chair in the corner of the room and by my side, arm wrapped around my shoulder. He kissed my forehead and the warm gesture was enough to slowly heal my heart. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?” 

We both looked in the doorway and Chris greeted an officer and the doctor. 

“Baby, this is Officer Ramirez, she’s handing your case.” Chris informed me. 

The word sounded so wrong coming from his lips; your case. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The officer asked. 

I shrugged. “Better than I was earlier. The drugs helped ease the pain.” 

“Are you alright if I go over the results in front of him?” The doctor suddenly asked while nodding toward Chris. 

Linking our fingers together, I nodded. “He’s my boyfriend. He was with me for the tests, he’s staying for the results. 

It was the doctors turn to nod. “Alright. So you have two bruised ribs, a laceration to your neck, hip and hand which we all stitched up. Some bruising on your face, a black eye, and a few minor cuts on your face as well. You do have a slight concussion so do take it easy for the next week. The bottom of your feet are severely cut up and we pulled quite a few debris out of them so I recommend staying off your feet as well.” 

Chris stumbled over his words, trying to ask the one question that burned in his mind. Even though I reassured him countless times, he still needed to hear the doctor say it. 

“What about the rape kit?” He finally breathed out. 

“Negative. There was no sign of trauma and no foreign fluids. I don’t know how you survived, Ms. Y/L/N, but you are a fighter. I’ll leave you alone with Officer Ramirez.” 

After she left the room, I stole a glance at Chris who’s shoulders had eased up a bit, knowing that I wasn’t raped. I knew that it was on his mind the whole time I was gone and since I came back. 

“Are you up for giving your statement now?” Officer Ramirez asked. 

I nodded. “I need to.” 

Chris went to leave but I placed my hand on his thigh to stop him. “Please don’t leave me.” 

He nodded. “Okay, I’m right here.” 

Taking a deep breath, it came out shaky as I started telling them exactly what happened to me. 

“He had me in a run down motel room across town, I knew it was across town when I was able to escape. When he was getting ready to put on a condom,” I felt Chris’ body stiffen next to me, “I saw the knife he’d brought on the table next to the bed and I didn’t even think about it; I went for it.” 

“He was too fast and grabbed the knife before I was even off the bed. He used it on my, cutting up parts of my body. He didn’t care how loud I screamed or writhed in pain, he liked it.” 

“Uh, after he smacked my head against the wall for trying to escape, he handcuffed me to the bedpost so he could run out for something. I couldn’t hear what he said, my head was throbbing in pain. He was gone for quite awhile and I stayed locked to the bed the entire time. I remember feeling how warm and sticky my blood was as it dripped from my body.” 

I cried out, my hands shaking with the awful memories. 

Chris wrapped his arms around me to calm me down and looked at Officer Ramirez. “Can we finish this another time?” 

“No,” I shook my head while pulling away from his chest. “I have to tell them where his body is.” 

Chris’ head snapped over to me, his mouth falling agape. “Don’t say another word, Y/N. Not until I get you a lawyer.” 

“Damnit Chris, I don't want a lawyer! I did nothing wrong!,” I yelled. “That bastard, after he finally came back and unhandcuffed me, he passed out drunk in the bed next to me. I thought about running out but I knew that he would find me again. He felt me get out of bed and pulled me back down. We fought for the knife and he kept punching me in the head, smacking me against the wall. All I had was one second as he wiped my blood from his hand to reach for the knife, pushing it deep into his chest!” 

My cheeks were soaked with tears, replaying the memory of the knife going into Chad’s heart over and over again. How easily the knife slid into his chest and the sound it made hurt my ears. 

“I was so scared of what I had done that I sat in the corner of the room in the fetal position while his body went cold and ridged. I finally was able to will myself up and stole this dress from the laundry room of the hotel and walked all the way home.” 

Chris looked at me, completely helpless and broken, but knew that I needed him more than ever. While he had me in his arms, Chris looked over to the officer. 

“It’s clear what this is,” He stated. 

She nodded. “The defense attorney won’t be pressing any charges. We only needed to get her statement.” 

Chris and her chatted for a few more moments, her saying that she would be in touch, and it was finally Chris and I alone. 

“You alright?” He pulled my chin up to meet his eyes. 

“I was afraid I was going to die,” I admitted, “The only thing that kept me alive was thinking of you.” 

“You’re incredibly strong, Y/N.” Chris breathed in my hair, savoring my scent. 

Even though I was still covered in blood and sweat, not being able to shower until they collected evidence, I still smelled divine to him. 

We found ourselves laying in the hospital bed, my head on his chest, and I could feel his heart beating rapidly through his chest. 

“You can relax, I’m home now.” I reassured him. 

A stray tear fell from his eyes and I was quick to wipe it away. 

“I thought I lost you. I kept replaying our last words to each other in my head and blamed myself for what happened.” Chris admitted with a shaky breath. 

“No,” I cupped his cheek, “None of this is your fault; or mine. I’m sorry I ever compared you to him.” 

“Don’t apologize. I was being an asshole,” he stated. 

“I just want to move past this,” I sighed while laying my head back on his chest. 

Chris agreed with a kiss to my forehead. 

“I love you,” he muttered against it. 

My head shot up, looking into his eyes to see if he meant what he had just admitted. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I love you,” he said again, not missing a beat. 

Getting through the last 48 hours of hell had been worth it because not only had I survived, I made it back home to the man that loved me and who I loved. 

“I love you too,” I pressed my lips to his, feeling the familiar taste encase my tongue. 

There was a long road to recovery in front of me but I knew that it would be an easy one to walk; with Chris by my side.

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread 1

Merry Christmas, ya’ll!  

I wanted to do something for the holidays involving my slow burn boys.  Somehow, this rose to the top.  Here is the first taste of Louis and Will switching places in the pred/prey relationship, while in a fantasy setting.  ^_^

Midnight Snack - Gingerbread

by peachnewt

Part 1

Once upon a time, a mountain in the West grew so tall that it's peaks, covered in icy snow, would reflect the sun's light like a candle, lighting the valley with a golden glow an hour after sunset.  Thus, the mountain was called the Lantern Pillars and the inhabitants of the valley benefitted from the extra hours of light to store away supplies for the harsh winter and pursue artistic endeavors. Buildings and towers stretched like candles ever upwards, bearing banners and stained glass that could be seen in any blizzard.  The valley, called Wax Wake, became the jewel of the Pillars, a destination for many nobles and merchant passing through the mountains with their exotic goods.  

But one area of the Pillars lay in the lee of the various crags and slopes in the mountain range; a rocky, forested area called the Greyfells.  In that dim and cold stretch of land lived a giant name Louis, the Grey.

Louis was an imposing figure, standing almost eighty feet high with wide shoulders, ice gray eyes, and a silvery blond mane of hair.  This wasn't a "fee-fi-fo-fum" giant that barreled around the countryside in rough furs, demanding maidens to keep his cave tidy, or oxen to feed his hunger, or gold to upkeep his lifestyle.  His mother raised him and his two older brothers better.  He kept his cave in semi-chaotic order with baskets and hangers for his possessions, did his own laundry, varied his diet with vegetables and other forage-foods so he didn't need to spend as much money on meat, and he had a yearly stipend for protecting mountain passes from bandits and clearing out rubble for merchant caravans.  

But Louis still wore rough furs.  Why wear fine wool or linens when they would tear on the slopes?  Plus it was cold up there.

And Louis did have a temper. While he didn't boom "fee-fi-fo-fum", he did grumble like a storm when the local coffee house didn't count out enough beans to last until his next monthly grocery run.  It was basic math, take the normal about of coffee a person needed and scale it up by sixteen.  

When one passed through the mountain trails they saw deep pits from fists, slashes of red, and the strike of an axe blade bigger than a wagon. Sometimes, at night when the Lantern Pillars had dimmed the townsfolk could see sparks flying in the Greyfells, an axe hitting stone.  They heard tale of blood-thirst and violence from a surviving bandit that surrendered himself to the authorities in Wax Wake after the band he had been allied with had been destroyed.  

At one point in the early Autumn, Louis left for a week.  "Visiting family", he said to those left in charge of the mountain pass. When he came back, he had dark bags under his eyes, a large sack over his shoulder, and a posture akin to a starved wolf.  

"I'm working on something important," he growled at the human guards.  "I'll do my rounds, but don't expect anything else unless it's an emergency."  

It had been customary for Wax Wake to hire the giant to help clean the stain glass of their towers, since he could reach them so easily, and hang the new banners for the winter celebrations.  They dared not ask this year.  Louis stayed in the Greyfells.  

No One with any brains or sense of self preservation wandered near the Greyfells, or pried into Louis the Grey's business.  

***

"If I had any brains I would have stayed with a caravan and waited until morning," William hissed to himself and the blizzard.  His booted feet sunk into another snowdrift.

William had been traveling with a group of builders and craftsmen on their way to Wax Wake to peddle their wears and skills.  It was a rite of passage to try their hands in the jeweled city.  But their wagon axel broke halfway down the mountain.  They hadn't the supplies to repair it and civilization was half a day away.  William had offered to find help, and went off in the direction of Wax Wake.  Except a blizzard had descended; white, blinding, howling, turning him around until he could not tell north from south.  

Night had fallen.  William, still lost, squinted for any sign of light in the darkness.  He tucked his hands under his armpits, sinking his chin into the scarf around his neck.  

His nose, not his sight, had been his salvation.  William smelled cloves, ginger, and cinnamon on the breeze.  Cookies? William thought.  Spicebread? He hadn't eaten since noon and his stomach growled, bidding him onward.  

He saw a faint light in the same direction as the scent.  Shelter, he hoped.

William wove through the trees and scratching branches until the bramble broke into a clearing pure white. The wind died in the circle, the snow and moonlight pristine as it lit up a lopsided brown shack caked in bits of white.  William didn't care how badly made the domicile was, it was shelter from the cold, hopefully occupied with someone that could help him, and feed him.  

"Hello?"  William trudged on towards the shack.  Warm spice hung in the air along with the overwhelming aroma of sugar.  And the snow under his feet felt different, more like sand.  

He peered into the shack. A stub of a candle, as big around as his thigh, had been lit and took up the majority of the wooden floor.  No furniture, no people aside from him.  

"Anyone home?"

What an odd house, he mused.  Stepping inside, the smell of gingerbread surrounded him, yet the only piece of gingerbread he saw was a stale hunk the size of his fist to the side of the candle.  If no one was home, they wouldn't be grudge him a bit of gingerbread from the floor.

While chewing on the hunk of gingerbread, delicious, he examined the rest of the rough house. The vaulted roof had gaps filled in with a white paste burned from the candle.  His eye followed the wall, attached to the roof with a tilt, leaving another gap filled in with white paste.  The house wasn't hewn from stone, brick, or wood.  Was it wattle and daub?  Clay?    

Will tested a ragged, brown wall, scratching it with a cold fingernail.  "It's gingerbread?"  

The tiny scratch, however, was enough to test the structural integrity of the shack and find it wanting.

Down came the walls, burying William in giant slabs of gingerbread, snuffing the candle.  

---

Will woke stuck between a pool of slowly cooling wax and a slab of gingerbread pinning him across his stomach.  Will gasped, trying to fill his lungs.  Despite its confectionary nature, the slab of what had once been a roof, or perhaps a wall, could not be shifted no matter how much he struggled.  Pinned as he was, he couldn't eat his way out either.  He would either freeze to death, or suffocate.

Will bleated out into the night for help until his throat felt like sand and the wax under him had hardened.  Then he heard a rumble, vibrating the ground and making the edge of the roof dig deeper into his belly.

An avalanche?  

Instead Will heard of roar of frustration and the slab over him was lifted as if it was light as a feather.

A giant face, bearded, blond, and full of icy fury stared at him.  The whispered giant of the Greyfells dressed in furs and breath of frost.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"  

***

Louis had stomped through the forest towards the protective circle he had set up for his project.  He carried a bag of red candies and a pot of icing with a small trowel.  If he could get all of the decorations up tonight then he could sleep in the next day. When he arrived, he saw a set of footprints in the pristine snow, and the gingerbread house collapsed.  Of course when he lifted the roof he'd find a meddling human.  

"Are you fuckin' kidding me!?"  Louis snapped.  

"What?" breathed the human.  

Louis tossed the gingerbread roof to the ground where it broke into four pieces, and then pulled the brown haired human out with one hand.  He stared at little menace, eye to beady eye. "I've been trying to keep this damned house together with sugar paste and a prayer, and then you come along and nibble on it like a fuckin' mouse until it falls?!"

"It was an accident!" yelled the human, pawing at the large hand that held him with his one free arm.  The tips of his feet, sticking out the other end of the giant's fist, twitched.  "I was lost and looking for shelter and food. And the shack wasn't stable, I barely touched it!  And the only piece of gingerbread I ate had already fallen from the walls!"  

"Shack!?" Fury lit up the giant's eyes like lightning.  He squeezed the human just enough to make him wheeze.  "I worked all day on this house and you call it a shack?"  

"S-sorry, but by definition it was a shack.  Though a delicious one.  I'm sure you can build a better one in a few hours."  

Louis didn't want to admit that the fallen shack had taken him two days, and had been his best effort out of seven.  

"I'm out of patience, out of my mind, and out of coffee," growled Louis.  He felt cruel and liked it, tapping into the reputation giants had gained as blood-thirsty ogres.  "You picked the wrong day to piss me off.  Cause I also haven't eaten in the last five days."  

Will gulped, suddenly nervous at seeing the giant's perfect grin.  "There is something admiral to be found in fasting in protest or in pursuit of a passion.  Why break such a streak?  Why not six days?"  

"Oh, I don't know."  Louis let his growling stomach speak for itself, causing the human to blanche.  "Maybe because it'll make me feel better."

"I'm sure we can talk about this in a reasonable manner!" screeched the human as he was pulled closer to the giant's mouth.  

"Reason left long ago."  Around the same time he had left to visit home and got saddled with this ridiculous task.

"There is always time for reason.  Starting with introductions!  I'm William James Rowe from Brex."  William stuck his hand out in the giant's directions, as if expecting a handshake.  "And you are?"  

Louis unclenched his jaw and breathed in the smell of sweat, sugar, and fear.  "Hungry."  

Part 2 

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

Geralt approached Corvo Bianco under the cover of darkness. He'd been on the Path to clear his mind after Yen had told him she was pregnant. He had been excited, of course, but old fears popped into his head, claiming him from sleep and happiness.

Would he be a good father? Was he prepared to care for a newborn? Ciri had been nearly a teenager by the time he had taken to caring for her, how could he take care of an infant?

Most of all, how pissed would Yen be with him?

He shuddered at the thought as he untacked Roach, letting the old mare wander into the stable. He filled her feed bowl with fresh oats and grain, made sure she had water, then made his way into the estate, careful not to wake Yen or Ciri. He slipped his swords from his back and took his cloak off, draping it on the holder beside the door. He moved into the bedroom, grabbed a set of sleepwear, and made his way to the study to change, depositing his dirty clothes into the bin to be washed in the morning.

He quietly made his way back to the bedroom, this time noticing the mop of ashen hair splayed across Yen's ebony curls. He breathed a soft sigh of content, checking to make sure that his favorite women were comfortably asleep before making his way to the chair and plopping down, releasing a soft sigh as he made himself comfortable.

He heard the quilts on the bed shuffling and turned his gaze to see Yen moving about.

"Gods damnit..." She huffed, shoving the quilt off of her legs. She sat upright, rubbed her eyes, then brought her hand to the small of her back. "Calm down my little wolf..." She pleaded, exhaustion clear in her voice.

Geralt cleared his throat, startling her momentarily before she registered his presence through her sleep addled mind.

"Geralt? When did you get home?" She questioned, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She could hear him move from the desk and make his way towards her. He eventually knelt before her, his hands on her knees, and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

"I didn't want to wake you... I can already tell that you aren't getting enough sleep." He offered, his voice soft as he spoke. "Besides, I've only been home for a few minutes."

She chuckled, brushing her thumb across his knuckles, before a soft sigh escaped her. He watched her cradle her swollen abdomen and rub small circles over one spot.

"A kick?" He questioned, watching her as she turned her gaze back down towards him.

"Mmhm... Our little one has done nothing but kick for the last week." She sighed, a short laugh leaving her lips a moment later. "Perhaps they knew you would be returning before I did."

Geralt was awestruck by how quickly Yen had fallen into the role of mother to their unborn child. It was inspiring and beautiful all at the same time. He could only hope to develop even a fraction of her skill. Though he did hope that his wife would show him how to care for their child. The thought brought a smile to his lips as he brought his hands up to rest on either side of her belly, his thumbs gently brushing over her skin.

Yen suppressed the urge to cry at the sight. Geralt had returned to her, which made her emotional to begin with, but now he was showing such tenderness that she hadn't been expecting from him. She placed her hands over his, holding them against her belly.

"Hello little cub." He breathed, applying subtle pressure to her belly. "Have you been waiting for me?"

A kick came to his palm, bringing a wider smile to his lips as he focused his attention on the spot. Yen watched him bond with their baby, silent tears echoing the wordless prayers that she had made. Her husband was home in one piece, their baby could finally bond with him, and Ciri had returned from her travels in Skellige and Cintra. Life couldn't possibly be any sweeter for them.

[suchalonelysunflower]

“Unsteady”

(Ashton Irwin X fem!Reader || Angst)

Summary: Based on the song “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors. You and you husband Ashton, got into an accident. As the months pass, Ashton is starting to lose hope.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Drunk Driving, hospitals, coma, accidents (kinda explicit) panick attack, a lot of crying, swear words, death, blood, violence, overall sadness, bad English (not my first language, my apologies)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: here I am with another Ashton Angst. Hope you like it 🦋 and remember that reblogs and likes always help and feedback and comments are always welcome! I would love to hear your thoughts 💙 You can check my other works HERE.

”Hold

Hold on

Hold on to me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady”

‘Her hand is too cold’ Ashton thought ‘She must be very cold’

You were lying in the hospital bed, unfazed. Ashton knew you couldn’t feel anything, at least that’s what the doctors told him. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were cold. If you could feel your skin becoming more like ice every second but were unable to ask for a blanket.

He would give you the sun if you asked.

But you couldn’t.

Ashton hasn’t heard your voice in over three months, and damn, how he missed it. He misses you, all of you. He often wondered what he’d do if when you open your eyes. Would he cry? Kiss you? Pass out? He didn’t know. All he knew is that he’ll be the happiest man on earth once you did.

But your hands were cold against his. Your body numb in the bed. And he was by your side, unmoving.

The nice nurse came in, he liked her and knew you would too, once you meet her “It’s four already” she said, smiling kindly to Ashton. He nodded and stepped aside to let her work.

He became familiarized with the routines pretty quickly. He memorized the medicines, the sounds of the machines attached to your body, every single technicality. Ashton always hated not to know, so he spent many nights next to you studying everything he could so he’ll be up to date. It became his life mission to make sure you were treated correctly and that you were safe.

“Her hand is cold” he muttered

“Okay, I’ll make sure to bring something warm for her when I come back” the lovely nurse smiled. Ashton breathed a small ‘thank you’ as she left, taking his usual spot in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand.

“You will love her” he said to you. He read that talking to you could be helpful, since you could probably hear him “She’s very nice to us, to you. And she has that ‘loving granny’ energy you talk about. I don’t know if she’s a grandma, though. She’s probably around 52… you would know better. You always do”

His eyes landed on your face, you look beautiful as always, but you didn’t move a muscle. Ashton squeezes your hand, waiting for a reaction of any kind, but getting nothing as a result. He felt the tears coming back, they haven't left since that night, and his voice broke as he tried to hold them.

“Baby, please come back” he pleaded “I - I know you’re trying to fight when you feel like flying. I know you’re there, Y/N. Please, hold on to me. Come back to me” breaking down as he couldn’t contain the tears any longer, he whispered ”I - I miss you”

“Ashton, you can’t be serious” You said giggling.

You were coming back home after a concert. The last concert of tour and you were ready to have your husband all by yourself again. You looked at Ashton as his smile spreaded through his face, making all of his dimples pop out and your heart flutter. His hands were on the wheel, but his eyes kept drifting from you to the road.

“I mean it!” He said with a laugh “Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same thing when you saw them!”

“I did, I’m not gonna lie” you admitted “But do you think we are ready? I mean, a kid is a lot more responsibility than some plants in the garden”

It was not the first time the ‘baby conversation’ popped out. But it was always dismissed, stating that neither of you were ready for that yet. Tonight, however, one of Michael’s friends brought her baby backstage and your mommy instincts kicked in. You were pulled towards that baby like a magnet, impossible to deny how cute they were, specially in a little 5SOS hoodie customized to their size. Ashton saw from a distance how good you were with that little baby that he felt the need to have one of your own. Falling in love with the thought of you being a wonderful mother to your child.

“I know that, but think about it, love. The tour’s over, the boys and I already decided to take a little break before starting to work on a new album, we all want to dedicate some time to our families, so I’ll be around for anything you need. Not to mention that we are financially stable and completely in love” Ashton grabbed you hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently “Plus, think how beautiful you’ll look with a baby bump”

“Yeah, all bloated and irritable”

“Still beautiful” He fixed his eyes on you, still smiling “Look, if you’re not ready then we can wait but -“

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“I said, let’s do it. Let’s try for a baby”

Ashton’s eyes gleamed under the night sky as he looked at you with adoration. You were both smiling like fools. It was decided then, you were going to have a baby! You were so immerse with happiness at that moment,, maybe that’s why you didn’t see the car heading towards you.

“You should go home for a bit, mate” Michael said as he placed his hand on Ashton’s shoulder. He didn’t move.

It was visiting hours, Michael, Luke, Calum and their girls came today. They always do. Making Ashton company as he patiently waits for you next to your bed.

“I’m fine”

He really wasn’t. His hair was a mess, he had dark circles under his eyes and he can’t even remember the last time he ate a proper meal or took a real shower. But he didn’t care. All of his attention was on you, all of his hopes, his prayers, his pleads, all came back to you and the chance that you’ll open your eyes.

“You’re not fine, Ashton,” Michael pleaded again, but got no response from him “Look at me” He squeezed Ashton’s shoulder, turning Ashton around to look him in the eyes. The same hazel eyes that a few months ago were filled with love and spark, that now were empty and sad “You need to go home”

“But-“

“Go home, Ash. If not for you then do it for Y/N”

Ashton was taken aback. Michael never spoke with such authority as he did at that moment. He knew he was right but still he couldn’t leave you.

“Mike and I will stay with her” Luke said “Visitors hours don’t end until two hours from now. That’s enough time for you to grab some things from home”

“And for goodness sake, take a shower” Cal intervened.

“We’ll be here and we’ll call you if anything happens. But you can’t take care of her if you don’t take care of yourself, you were hurt too”

Ashton felt like he was being cornered by his three best friends. They were right, of course they were. But this was harder that it seemed and he didn’t know if he was ready to face it.

“I- I can’t” he mumbled looking down, feeling three pairs of eyes on him “I can’t go home without Y/N,, I don’t think I’ll be able to take it”

A pitiful look was exchanged between the three men. All of them hurting for him, for you.

“I’ll go with you, mate. You don’t have to go alone” Calum said, extending his hand to his best friend, helping him getting up.

When they reached the parking lot, Ashton tossed his keys to Calum, not saying a word. He was not ready to sit behind the wheel again. So Calum drove them through the familiar streets of LA, back to an empty house that was once filled with songs.

Ashton held his breath when he opened the door and stepped in. It was all too familiar but at the same time so strange. Everything was like the way you left it, the news paper on the kitchen table, next to the glass of wine you didn’t get to finish. The pair of shoes you decided to change at the last minute were still by the door and your perfume invaded the house as a ghost. Every inch of this house had your presence in it, but you were nowhere to be found.

Calum placed his hand on Ashton’s shoulder, something they all seem to be doing a lot lately, as he took in the empty house “Take all the time that you need” and he did.

Ashton walked through the deserted halls, stopping in front of his and your room. He placed his hand on the doorknob but didn’t have the heart to open it, knowing you won’t be there waiting for him like each night. He felt the tears coming up again and his breathing was uneven. It took all of him to step away from the door and head towards the guest room. At least he knows it won’t smell like you.

After a much needed shower, he went to the basement. The basket filled with laundry was still there, you told him you lost track of time and forgot to put it back up. He was glad you didn’t. Ashton grabbed a few shirts and jeans and put them in a bag, he also put a few of your clothes in there, thinking you’d feel more comfortable once you wake up. He couldn’t ignore the pain of smelling your perfume so close to him after so long. He didn’t want to.

He was about to head out when he walked by his music room. The door was open, so he was able to catch a glimpse of a few books you recommended him, but that he never had the chance to read. Maybe he could read them to you, he thought.

Stepping into the room he found thousands of papers scattered around the coffee table. Bunch of scratches and unfinished songs he was ready to show you.

It wasn’t a secret that you were Ashton’s muse. Every song he wrote was inspired by you in every possible way. And you were his number one fan, always encouraged him to do what he loves and to do better by himself. Always taking care, not only of him, but of everyone else. No kindness in the world could compare to yours, no love in the world could compare to yours and now…

Where were you? Why? How could this happen? Why you?

A million questions ran through Ashton’s head, making his senses go black as he ripped apart every piece of paper he could find. Not really paying attention to the damage he was causing as he threw everything in his way. Glasses, picture frames, drumsticks, the drums themselves… all for what? What did it matter? How could anything matter if you were not there?

Calum heard the thundering sounds and cries of his best friend and ran to him. But, to his eyes, it was almost impossible to describe the broken scene that played before him.

Ashton was crying out of rage, sadness, hopelessness and some relief. Letting it all out as he trashed the music room that was once a comfort for him. The tears were mixed with his sweat, grunting and panting as he destroyed every piece of himself in that room.

“Ash!” Yelled Calum as he stepped into the chaos, trying to reach his friend “Ash-Ashton!” He managed to dodge a few pieces of glass and plastic from the broken drum kit.

He reached him mid rage, grabbing his fisted hands with all the strength he could use “Ashton fucking stop! You need to stop!”

Ashton froze as he opened his eyes and found Calum staring at him in fear. Trembling and falling to this knees, he found himself unable to stand on his feet. Tears streaming down freely.

“She’s gone” he sobbed. Completely broken.

Calum let his guard down, softly saying “She’s not gone, Ash. She’s not gone” He grabbed the tall man and pulled him into a hug. Ashton didn’t put on a fight as he let himself be comforted by his friend “She’s going to be fine. You hear me? She’ll be okay”

“We were supposed to start a new chapter together. We- we were going to start a family and… it all happened so fast, Cal”

He cried even harder “Cal, I don’t remember if it was my fault”

“You were hit by a drunk driver, none of this is your fault”

“I should’ve paid more attention! It should’ve been me! I should be the one in the fucking hospital bed”

It was all too much. It all hurt too much. It’s just,, it wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this, being connected to a machine, fighting to stay alive when he was the one driving the car. Three months without opening your eyes, without hearing your laughter, or your off key singing. He would do anything just to feel your arms around him one more time, to hear your voice saying that everything was going to be okay. He needed you. He needed you desperately. How could he live without you when you were all he knew? How could he sing about love when you’re not here to hear it?

“This house doesn’t feel like a home without her” He sobbed “I- I don’t know what I’ll do, I can't lose her”

“You won’t” Said Calum, fighting his own tears when the image of you fighting for your life came to mind. But he knew he had to stay positive, for Ashton, for everyone “We won’t lose Y/N, she will wake up”

“Cal, I -“ whispered Ashton in a broken voice “I don’t think she will”

“Y/N?!”

Darkness. Everything was dark and everything hurts. Where was he? Why,, why couldn’t he move?

It took him a second to figure out that you were upside down, still inside of the car. He called your name one more time, but there was no answer. His eyes needed to adjust, he needed to find you. But then..

“A-ash?”

Your voice was weak. Barely even a whisper filled with pain.

“Y/N?!” Ashton called, his hand immediately trying to get to yours. He didn’t care about the broken pieces of glass and concrete that cut through his skin, he just needed to hold your hand “It’s okay, you’re okay”

“Ash” you cried in pain. Squeezing his hand, trying to hold onto something real “I can’t move. Everything hurts”

“Don’t move, Love. Don’t move until they come for us, okay? They’re going to help you. You’ll be okay”

Ashton tried to remain calm for you, soothing your cries by running circles in your hand. “Just hold onto me, baby. Hold my hand. We’re gonna get through this, okay? We are going to be fine”

You could only cry in response. Every ounce of pain hitting you from different parts. It was almost intolerable, but Ashton tried his best to comfort you and you got lost in the sound of his voice, starting to drift away.

“Don’t let go, Y/N. Baby. Don’t let go of my hand, okay? I need you here with me, you understand me?”

“Ashton, I’m tired”

“No, no no no, baby stay with me. Tell me, what names do you like?”

“N-names?”

“Yes, Love. For the baby”

“The baby…”

Ashton was crying, but he wouldn’t let you see it. He squeezed your hand.

“Yes, yes the baby” He could hear your breathing slowing down “You can’t go to sleep, love. Baby, hold on”

He could hear the sirens coming closer, they were going to be okay.

“W-what about Alex? Do you like that one?” You could only hum in response “Stay with me, Y/N. What about Rose? You told me you liked that name, remember?”

The lights of the ambulance shined in the pavement. They were here. Help was here.

“Rose…” you said faintly

“Yes, yes baby. We are going to have such a beautiful family” Ashton cried as he felt your hand gave in “And you’re going to be an excellent mother.”

“You’ll be an excellent father”

“Y/N?”

“I’m so tired, Ash. Everything hurts” you cried.

“Baby no, don’t leave me. Just hold onto me, keep holding onto me”

He was panicking now, feeling you fade away.

“I love you” you said.

“Y/N?! No, baby c’mon. Hold on, please. If you love me don’t let go. Don’t leave me here”

Ashton didn’t feel when the door of his car opened next to him. He didn’t feel when they pulled him out of the car and into a stretcher. He just wanted to know that you were okay.

“Y/N?!” He screamed at the paramedics, trying to find you among the crowd that has gathered around the wreck “Where’s my wife?! Y/N!”

All he could hear was “She’s losing a lot of blood!” “We need to take her now” “I don’t feel a heartbeat, we’re losing her” as he saw your figured being pulled away in another ambulance, away from him.

He yelled, screamed, cried and kicked, trying to get to you somehow. He needed to be with you. He needed to know that you were still with him. That you were okay.

He didn’t feel when they injected him with a sedative.

From that moment on, everyday was the same. Everyday hoping that it might be different.

After the wreckage of your home, Ashton came back to the hospital to find you still asleep on the bed. He thanked the boys and said goodbye, promising them that he’ll be fine.

“I went home today” he said as he sat down on his usual spot, cupping your hand in his, letting your wedding bands touch “everything is where you left it. I - I didn’t dare to put everything back, I know how mad you can get when I move your stuff” Ashton let out a sad laugh, holding your hand even tighter “I’m sorry if my hands are a bit rough, I.. well let’s say you wouldn’t want to come into my music room for quite some time. I’m sorry”

Ashton looked at you. The bruises and cuts from the accident were almost fully healed. Your hair was longer, but it wasn’t as soft as it used to be. Your eyelashes rested peacefully over your cheeks, it was almost like if you were dreaming.

“I wish you could tell me how stupid I am. Believe it or not, I miss your nagging” he sighed “I miss everything. I miss you”

The machine that was connected to your heartbeat played its usual melody, filling the gaps that were created by your silence.

“I can’t help but think that this is all my fault. Everyone tells me it’s not, that I wasn’t the one driving drunk on the streets of LA. But then I look at you and, fuck Y/N, I don’t even know if you’re in pain and it kills me. If I could trade your life for mine I would, darling, in a heartbeat.”

‘“ I should’ve paid more attention to the road. I should’ve moved out of the way or.. I should’ve done something to avoid this” silent tears rolled down his cheek, he didn’t even attempt to wipe them away “We had so much ahead of us… we were going to start a family and I.. I can’t help but think that I took that away from you, from us”

‘“ I need you here, Y/N. I need you here by my side. I can’t live without you, I don’t want to live without you, baby. You are my everything, my Y/N, my love. Without you I’m unsteady, you’re my rock, my ending and beginning, my North Star.. Y/N you’re my home. And I know it sounds selfish but I’m not ready to give you away. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. Please don’t leave me, don’t let go. Come back, baby. I need you”

He cried through every word, every confession. He cried for everything they had and all that they could have if she wakes up. He cried so hard he didn’t notice when her Heart Rate went up all of the sudden.

“Y/N? Baby don’t. No no no no don’t let go” The beeps were faster, violent, shaking up Ashton from sorrow. Having him screaming at the top of his lungs for a doctor.

It all happened so fast. A sea of white coats surrounding the room and pushing Ashton out of the way and into the hall. He tried to step in again, but a nurse cut his way.

“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go in there” he said, sternly.

“B-but that’s my wife.. That’s my wife!”

“Sir, I will need you to stay calm and stay here while the doctors work. Okay?” He went into the room, opening the door just enough for Ashton to see two paddlers hit your chest.

Ashton punched the walls out of frustration, almost breaking his hand and making it bleed. He rested his head on the furthest wall and slowly fell to the ground, sobbing his heart out.

He stayed like that for a long time before the doctors and nurses stepped out of the room, all of them ignoring him as he stayed on the floor. It wasn’t until Y/N’s head doctor appeared that he got up.

His eyes and face were puffy red, his hand was bruised and swollen. But he couldn’t seem to find a care. Not now. Not when his Y/N was all alone. Not when there’s a chance that she’s not there anymore.

“Mr. Irwin” said the doctor in a low voice that made Ashton’s world fade to grey, swallowing the lump he had in his throat “Mrs. Irwin went into cardiac arrest. It seemed like all of this got the best of her. Her vitals were…”

But Ashton couldn’t hear her anymore. In his mind everything was pure bullshit. All of this speach saying how sorry they were and that you’re in a better place, bullshit. You were gone. You were really gone. The universe could fall apart right there and there and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. His universe died with you.

His eyes were an empty void. He could see the mouth of the doctor still moving. But all he could think was you. You and your perfect smile, the way your eyes shined every time you talked about something that you were passionate about. The way you looked in your wedding day and how nothing could even come close to the feeling of happiness when you said your ’I do’s’ How you would dance on each and every concert, cheer him up from the side of the stage, waiting to be kissed once it was over. And now you were gone.

He would never hear you laugh or say I love you again. He would never see you walk around the house in one of his shirts, trying to call his attention. He would never feel you close in the mornings, cuddling until you eventually had to let go. You were gone. And he wasn’t ready for that. He will never be ready for a life that doesn’t have you in it.

“... So would you like to see her?” The doctor said. Calling Ashton back to the real world.

“I’m sorry, what?” His shock was palpable. Voice sounding broken and weak as he was. Lips trembling as he held his breath, afraid that he misheard her.

“She’s stable, at the moment. She asked for you. She mentioned something about a rose....”

You were okay? You were awake?!

Ashton burst into the room without a second thought. Tears falling as he saw you looking at him from the hospital bed, smiling weakly. He stood there for a second, whispering as he thought it might be a dream.

“Y/N?”

“Ashton....”

”If you love me, don't let go

If you love me, don't let go”

[seafleece]

“hello, um—” 

he shifts uncomfortably, the soft leather of his boots sliding against itself where his legs touch, crossed under him on the ground. “mollymauk, right?”

it’s starting to snow again, soft ethereal flakes that fall apart at the slightest touch of warmth, and they’re starting to soak into his traveling cloak.

it’s funny, you know, how he never thought to buy one before this. how he never thought of going somewhere without the reminder that he is important, that he is special, that he’s worth something to someone.

as if no one would believe it otherwise.

he wonders if caduceus would be angry with him for digging, for disturbing a grave. maybe they all would— from their tone, he can tell that mollymauk was dear to them. but, well, ignorance can be feigned— slowly, he’s learning not to feel like his image topples in someone’s mind the moment he makes a mistake. and he needs to know, okay? he just needs it.

the body before him rises slightly— curious, how caduceus’s trademark fungi seem almost to serve as a facsimile for tissue, tendons, in this moment, knitting the bones together enough for movement— and nods. essek suddenly remembers this spell has a limit and curses under his breath.

it’s not as if he’d gotten to practice, though, right? it was hard enough to learn the spell, to even get someone to teach it to him— the den’s coroner had looked at him strangely— funny, i thought your type was more interested in making corpses and leaving them for someone else.

he’ll just have to be more careful.

“i, uh, i wanted to ask you about caleb widogast, if you remember him—” he pauses for a moment and then the rest of his thought comes rushing out of him so mollymauk— what was once mollymauk— doesn’t try to answer yet.

“did you love him?”

there’s a long silence— behind him, his horse snorts out a big cloud of breath and paws at the dirt. caleb had told him about when they’d had to travel on foot, and how molly would still be with them if they hadn’t. what would that mean, he thinks, for himself? whether they’d have had a fraction of the interest in him, if they’d still had their dear friend. if he’d still be alone, still cold inside. if he’d have made the wrong choice, when it mattered. 

he’d wanted to try it for himself, taking the long way. sleeping afraid under the stars, long days of dust kicked up by the horse. feeling small under the sky, fragile. mortal.

the corpse nods, and fear and sorrow climb in his throat like vines.

“ah,” he says, and swallows hard and scratchy. “i see—“

“i know who you are, you know.”

“what?”

another thing he’d forgotten about the spell— it lets them speak.

“jester’s tried to message me before. she thinks it doesn’t work, but i still heard them.” it’s an impossibly dry voice, like sandpaper on sandpaper. fibers from the fungi shift and stretch as the head tilts.

“oh.”

“she sounded happy when she talked about you. that’s enough for me.”

essek looks at the body of mollymauk tealeaf for a moment, first at where the horns curl out from the skull, back into an elegant spiral. jewelry still dangles from them, faded and covered almost entirely in dirt. the lower half of the breastbone is broken off entirely, as if crushed inward, and cracks spiderweb up out toward the ribs.

“does it hurt?”

“what?” and yet, he thinks mollymauk knows already.

“dying.”

he’s not afraid, not really— if things stay as they are, he will live another 400 years, at least. far longer than caleb. mollymauk’s skull regards him, and even without the bright red eyes caleb had told him about, he thinks that mollymauk can tell he’s not asking about himself.

“it doesn’t have to.”

“would you have chosen to be consecuted?”

he doesn’t ask if mollymuak knows what he means.

“i don’t know.” the body of mollymauk lifts its bare, skeletal hands, examines where they’re wrapped in thin fibers. “maybe, if i believed it would work. if i believed i was supposed to live any longer than i did.”

“but you didn’t.” it’s not a question.

“no.”

that same silence blooms between them, again, and then mollymauk’s body begins to lie down again, to slot itself back into the space the dirt has left for it.

“wait, i am not done—”

“that was five,” mollymauk says breezily. “i have no need to answer you further.”

essek reaches forward, presses one hand to the broken sternum. as though touch will extend the spell.

“i don’t think you’ll mind this last one.”

mollymauk says nothing, but pauses all the same.

“are you at peace?”

if he could, essek thinks, mollymauk would smile. he can hear it in the voice as the body lies back down fully, gazing up at the wide, winter-white sky.

“yes.”

essek stands again, brushes dirt from his pants. the cloak he knows to be mollymauk’s still hangs from the branch over the grave, catching and billowing for a moment on the wind and falling again. the blood that blooms across it is still red, somehow, bright red. to match his eyes, he supposes.

“thank you.”

essek is not a particularly religious man, but as he draws the dirt up and back over the body he says a prayer to the god caleb tells him is mollymauk’s. the moonweaver. a trickster. fitting.

he sends the horse away, first, back to the zadash stables. the part of the journey he knows he needed to spend on foot is over.

then, he sits and traces out the sigil for the xhorhaus in chalk, the way caleb still likes to. the sigil is different than the ones to any other major city— he and caleb had made it themselves, made it so that the magic worked just by drawing it, so they could all use it. so everyone could return home, if they wanted, after just a minute of work. because coming home should never be hard.

he chalks in the larger circle first, filling it inwards, and thinks about the smith in the gallimaufry he’d visited earlier that week.

(finally, veth’s shoulders stop shaking with laughter, and she tips her chair forward again.

“sorry, sorry,” she wheezes. “it’s cute, really. you should buy rings.”

“rings?”

“it’s a sign you’re together, if you both wear them.”

“you don’t have one from your husband,” he grouses, pride hurt, and backtracks immediately when her face falls. “i’m sorry, i—”

“it’s okay,” veth says, and looks at her hand, at the shaky black shape tattooed onto one of her fingers. essek recognizes jester’s handiwork. one of her earlier pieces, he guesses— it bears so little resemblance to the flowers he knows she’d given yasha, the elegant spirals he can see on beau’s back, briefly, when she stretches, but the color, the curiously deep shade of black is the same. 

“i lost it, awhile ago. we got these instead, after—” and her face scrunches a little further. they don’t talk about it too much, about the time before they trusted each other this way. about the things they all did before they had to think about if it was wrong. “you know.”

she brightens again. “but i’m sure caleb would like one. just make sure you measure beforehand.”)

and he had, had made sure caleb was deeply asleep in the plush armchair they’d had brought into the study, book threatening to tip backwards from his lap. he’d ordered one silver, for himself and one gold for caleb. with a blink he remembers the mismatched jewelry hanging from mollymauk’s horns, and laughs, completing the circle home.

(some shadowgast/widomauk for @fiovske!!)

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 9

*Author’s note*

WHOA IT HAS BEEN A LOOOOOONG TIME SINCE I UPDATED THIS STORY!!! But now with my Rock Angel series finally complete, I finally had some time to sit down and catch up on this series so here I have for you all 2 NEW chapters of my Robin and Gale Hood Disney AU! So I hope you all enjoy this new update and be on the lookout for the next one in just a few minutes :)

Chapter 9,

Jailbreak chaos

Taglist;

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@sparkleslightlyy​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@wormzteef​

_____________________________________________________

Two hours before dawn, two hours before Gale Hood would be burned at the stake before the entire town of Nottingham, Robin and his friends slipped over the gates and ducked the guards as they crossed the courtyard.

They all hide within the stables and hide from a patrol that was coming around the corner just a few yards away from them.  Once the guards passed, Robin gathered his friends and whispered.

“Alright lads, this is it. There can’t be room for error. Share your positions, go.”

“Kit, David and I will meet up with Arthur to free the prisoners from the tower dungeon.” Gilbert said.

“Marian and I will go down below the palace to free Gale from her cell.” Little John said.

“While James and I will sneak into the master suite and bring out the royal treasury. And we all must do it before the clock tower chimes at dawn. And remember, Don’t. Get. Caught.” They placed their right hands over each other before shooting them in the air and went on their way.

Little John circled around towards the gardens where a secret entrance that Marian had found when she first went to visit Gale after she had been brought in.  He soon spotted a dark cloaked feminine figure standing by the tower of the castle and he could already see from the moonlight that it was Marian from her blonde locks hidden underneath.

He let out an owl’s hoot to fool the guards but it told Marian that a Merry Man was nearby.  She turned and when she saw Little John coming towards her, she relaxed with relief.

“Thank God you’re here Little John.”

“Alright, so how do we get in?”

“Just stand back and let me do the code, keep watch for me okay?” he nodded and stood in front of her to hide her from any guards that could walk along the tower.  Marian grabbed hold of the lock and first twisted it to the right till her hand was fully horizontal, then she turned it left to the point where the bottom of her palm was facing upward but her fingers stood diagonally from her palm. Then she twisted it back towards the right twice.

The secret door soon unlatched itself and Little John allowed Marian to lead him down the stairs.  Grabbing a torch from the wall, Marian led on till they reached the darkest dungeon that Little John had ever seen.

“This is where Gale’s been kept?”

“I’m afraid so. Thankfully, she still has her sanity intact.” Marian thought it best to not mention the fact that the Sheriff had been raping her multiple times since her capture.  That wasn’t her story to tell.

“Seriously? God I would’ve lost myself in this darkness within the first hour. Never did I think Gale could be that strong willed.”

“Well best believe it Little John. This is it.” She ran towards a locked metal door that had a sign over it that read in bold letters.

BEWARE THE WITCH

SENTENCED TO BE BURNED AT THE STAKE AT DAWN ON AUGUST THE 24TH.

BY ORDER OF THE KING

And at the bottom was Prince John’s signature and the family Lion crest to make it official.  Little John went to the door but Marian stopped him and said.

“Let me go in Little John. It’s best if she sees a—a womanly presence.”

“What do you mean? What have they done to her?!” he demanded the last part.

“That I cannot say. For it is not my story to tell. If Gale ever gains the confidence to tell any of you men what happened, she will. But for now, I ask that you don’t immediately embrace her or touch her.”

Little John already began to have an inkling on what she meant, but he prayed to God that she was lying and that it was only just physical pain the Sheriff of Nottingham had bestowed upon her.  Marian revealed the key from her breast and unlocked the door before grabbing Little John’s torch and entered inside Gale’s cell.

Gale was now chained up to the wall wearing an all-white gown that they forced all witches to wear before they were burnt at the stake.  Her hair was a mess and her lip was blood-stained. She lifted her head to see that it was only Marian standing there.

“Marian?” she croaked out. She set the torch down on the floor and knelt down beside Gale and unlocked her from her shackles.

“Shh, quiet. We’re busting out of here. All of us.”

“Thank God!” she softly wept as her arms were finally free. “My prayers have been answered.” She rubbed her raw, blistered wrists as Marian helped her stand up.

The two women left their cell, Little John bowed his head in greeting to Gale who greeted him the same way.

“Come on, we can head to the garden’s back entrance to escape.” Marian said.

“Wait, what about the others? Shouldn’t we try to help?” asked Gale.

“There’s no time Gale. Arthur and the others can handle getting the town’s people out. And Robin and James can handle the royal treasury. We’ve only got till sunrise to do this and there can’t be room for error.” Little John told her.

Gale wanted to argue but she knew that whenever her brother said that a plan of theirs had no room for failure, that was a code meaning stick to your position and nothing more.  She nodded and then Marian lead them out of the lower dungeons and towards the garden’s entrance (the very same gate that Michael, Robert, Jimmy and little Laura used when they first met Marian, Arthur and Prince James).

Over at the tower dungeon where the people of Nottingham were being kept, two guards were pacing by the front door with one guard sleeping right by the door.

From some old crates and barrels hid Kit, Gilbert and David. Kit looked over to see the two guards pacing steadily in front of the tower.  Each one holding their swords close to them as they paced.

“Safe to say we’re not gonna easily sneak by the front door.” Kit whispered as he slunk back behind the barrel beside his friends.

“I hope Arthur comes through and knows what he’s doing.” Gilbert said.

“He’s the future advisor to James. I think he’ll hold his own.” Soon enough Arthur comes out and he quickly goes over to the two guards and urgently gestures them towards the stable, which was just a few yards away from where Gilbert and the others were hiding.

The plan was for Arthur to lure any guards from their position by order of Prince James who ‘claimed’ to see a member of Robin’s Merry band sneaking into the stables.  From there Gilbert, David and Kit would knock the guards out and disguise themselves as the guards, followed by getting the key and freeing the townspeople.

As the two guards were racing towards Kit and the others, David extended out the end of his bow which caused the guards to trip and soon Gilbert and Kit dragged them towards the barrels and knocked them out.  They stripped them of their clothes and wore the guard’s uniform.

“Right so David stay out here till the first batch of townsfolk come out, then lead them to the back entrance where Marian and Little John helped Gale escape to.” Gilbert told him.

“Right.” David nodded as Gilbert and Kit went back to their guarding positions.  The two of them met up with Arthur and Kit said.

“You got the key?”

“No. Apparently this drunken fool forgot to take it off his belt before he passed out.” Arthur explained as he gestured to the sleeping guard that was snoring like a pig at his post.

“Alright then. Leave it to me.” Gilbert said as he rolled his sleeves up.  Much like he learned from Robin and Gale, Gilbert was the 3rd best cat burglar of the group.  

He could swindle your pocket change and you wouldn’t have even known about it till you tried to buy something.  He could swipe the prized necklace off your neck with just a feathery touch and a broken finger, and your wedding ring well—Gilbert could take that off your finger with just his fingernail and sell it to the highest bitter.

He spotted the keys hanging off the left side of the guard’s belt.  Slowly he unbuckled the guard’s belt and using one of his arrows, he hooked it into the key ring and slowly pulled on it till it slid off his belt.  

Gilbert grabbed the keys and unhooked all three of them off the ring as Arthur unlocked the tower gate doors and the three of them raced up the tower stairs towards the jail cells upstairs.  Arthur unlocked the last door and there they saw the people of Nottingham all together in chains, some barely hanging onto life, others broken spirited.

The three men all worked together to free the people who looked at them with hope and gratitude.  When he unlocked the Sharpe family from their bonds, young Michael held his bow and arrow and said.

“Alright I’m ready where’s the bad guys!?”

“Whoa, whoa take it easy laddie.” Kit told him.  “We admire your courage but right now we could use an extra hand in getting all these people out of here, think you can be the man to do just that and lead the first batch to David?” Michael nodded strongly. “That’s a good lad.” Kit ruffled Michael’s hair before telling everyone the plan.

Once his family and the first dozen of townsfolk were free, Michael led them downstairs and using the special techniques that Gale taught him, he first peeked out and let out a robin whistle towards Daniel who replied back to him in the same tune.

“Okay, follow me everyone.” They quickly raced out towards David who led them across the courtyard and back towards the garden.

Inside the castle, some of the guards were patrolling the castle when one of them came up to the Prince James’ bedchambers and quickly looked inside to see the young prince fast asleep in his bed.

He nodded before closing the door and left to continue his patrol.  James opened one eye then quickly pulled himself off his bed and quick as a flash opened up his balcony window.  Down below he could see Robin scaling up the side of his balcony, just a foot or two from reaching him.  Once he got close enough, James pulled him up and Robin said.

“Did you do it?”

“Slipped my bastard of an uncle and his slithery snake advisor a little something in their food? Yeah. Knocked them right out. Good news is that his bedchambers lines up exactly with the prison tower where Arthur is helping your men free the towns people.”

“Excellent. So all we need to do is a simple deposit from one tower to the next.” James nodded and the two of them left his bedchambers and snuck up towards his uncle’s just down the hall.

They slowly crept inside to see hills upon hills of sacks filled with gold.  Not only did the gold belong to the people of Nottingham, but all of England’s riches lied within this very bedchamber.

“We better work fast.” Robin whispered to James.  He nodded and Robin opened up the main balcony window and readied an arrow with a long rope attached to the feathered tail.  He carefully aimed straight for the prison tower and let the arrow fly.

It flew straight through the barred windows and landed right along the wall.  Gilbert looped the arrow through a iron keyhole before walking back towards the window to aim the arrow back towards Prince John’s bedchambers.  With a careful eye and steady hand. Gilbert released the arrow and it landed right into the Prince’s bedchamber.  After tying their end to the top bar above the royal bed, they had their makeshift pulley system ready to go.

The two men nodded to each other and proceeded to grab a sack of gold, tie it off and send it down towards the prison tower for the remaining prisoners as well as Robin’s men to collect.

As the gold arrived at the tower, Gilbert and Arthur pulled the gold inside while Friar Tuck and Kit handed the gold to the people.

“Praise the Lord and pass the tax refund.” Friar Tuck said as he handed an elderly couple a sack for each of them to carry.  The elderly couple smiled warmly and the woman even embraced the gold close to her breast.

This plan continued to go along smoothly as the clock continued to pass on and the night slowly shifted to dawn.

The clock tower chimed 4am, dawn was fast approaching. James and Robin looked at each other and James said as he tied the last sack of gold.

“That’s the last of it, let’s go.” He whispered to Robin. He nodded and the two of them quickly raced towards the balcony and grabbed ahold of their make-shift pulley system and rode it the rest of the way towards the dungeon tower.  Robin slid through the window first and he then helped James.

“Going somewhere gentlemen?” that haunting, gravely baritone voice spoke.  The two men slowly turned around to meet over 30 arrows pointed right at them, and the Sheriff himself standing before them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sheriff of Nottingham, As Prince of England I hereby sentence you—”

“So sorry your majesty but I no longer take orders from you, by order of your uncle. In fact,” he snapped his fingers and soon the two of them were taken into custody as several men forced Robin and James to their knees.  “It shall be my honor to say that you both shall hang by the neck until death. Just shortly after we burn the witch in trial.”

“Yeah, well good luck finding her. By now she’ll be miles away from you.” Robin sneered.

“Hmmm. Think so?” the Sheriff hummed.  At this they could hear the grunts and screams of one Gale Hood.

“No! NO!!” Robin thrashed wildly at hearing his sister’s screams.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have thought you’d be coming? So the King and I had the royal army hidden within the forest to capture anyone who tried to escape. Including those meddlesome townsfolk.” Robin struggled like a rapid animal trying to get to the Sheriff but the guards held him strong and firm.

Soon the Sheriff sucker punched him in the gut which made Robin crumble to the ground as he coughed out harshly.  James struggled in his hold and he spat venomously at the Sheriff.

“I swear to God above Sheriff, you won’t get away with this!”

“No need for petty threats your highness. You’ll soon be joining alongside them. Your death will be the perfect leverage against your father.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“If I told you straight away we’d have to kill you. Oh wait, we’re already gonna do that. Take them away, and make sure they have a good view of Gale’s execution.” The guards soon took the young Prince and rebel of the people away from the tower’s dungeon.

As the sun slowly rose above the gallows, a man was throwing hay and sticks around Gale Hood’s feet as she was tied to the stake.  A few feet away from her, the executioner held the flaming torch in his hands, his masked face making him look like the Grim reaper about to snatch her soul away and send it to Hell.  All the while the sound of the executioner’s drumbeats echoed throughout the air.

“The Prisoner Gale Hood has been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft.” The drumbeats paused as the Sheriff continued to read out, “The sentence……Death!”

The people of Nottingham who were forced to witness this gruesome execution all fought against the royal guard who held them back with their spears or axes to keep them from interfering.

“She’s harmless!”

“Let her go!”

“She’s done nothing wrong!”

“She is innocent!” were some of the screams of the town’s people. Gale Hood’s heart was rapidly beating out of fear as she watched as more piles of sticks were being added till finally they felt it was good enough for a big fire deserving for her.  She stared at the executioner in pure fear.

While down below Robin and his friends along with Marian and Arthur were all in cages surrounded by guards so that even if there was a slim chance of them escaping, they’d never make it pass the guards.  Prince James however, he was dealt with the worst punishment.

For he was forced to stand at his uncle’s side on a makeshift platform where the throne looked over the gallows.  He was chained by his hands and ankles right by his uncle’s throne like a dog forced to watch as his beloved would be burned alive.

“The time has come Gale Hood, you stand upon the break of the abyss. Yet even now it is not too late. You can spare yourself the flames of this world, and the next. Choose me, or the fire.” The Sheriff spoke to her in that deep, low voice of his that sent terrifying shivers up Gale’s spine.

After all that he’d done to her.  Captured her, raped her, Gale knew better than to submit to him. In her last ditch effort to give the Sheriff what-for, she reared her head back and spat right in his face. The crowd all gasped as the Sheriff looked at her appalled.

“Go…….fuck…..yourself!” she hissed.

“Then in the name of his royal majesty King John the 1st, I hereby sentence you to burn at the stake until death, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.” He nodded to the executioner and the two of them traded spots.

Not wanting to bare this anymore, something in James snapped. He pulled as hard as he could on the chains until his uncle let go of the leash-chain that held James in place. He raced towards the gallows and stood protectively in front of Gale.

“If you kill her you’ll have to kill me too!”

“James no!” Marian shouted.

“James you can’t.” Gale whimpered to him. “England needs you.”

“They’re going to kill me either way. And I’d rather die with you than watch you die before me. I told you Gale, I’d rather spend one lifetime on this Earth with you, than face all the ages of this world alone. I love you.” Gale’s eyes filled with tears as James leaned his forehead against hers.

“I love you James Lionheart.”

“And I love you, Gale Hood.”

“Well what are you waiting for? Kill them!” ordered Prince John as he now stood by the Sheriff’s side at the gallows.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?!?” a loud boom of a voice cried out.  

[the-pontiac-bandit]

miri + sympathy

Miri had never quite gotten the hang of pranks, but she’d certainly improved in her years with the Riders. Her ideas tended to be less subtle and more absurd, aiming for shock that could elicit an entertaining reaction rather than finesse in the prank itself. While she could appreciate finesse in the pranks of others--Evin did have a particular talent for it, after all--she found that successful execution of such complicated plans required far more work than she had any desire to put in. Commanding Spiderdeath--and avoiding being pranked herself--took plenty of her time.

It was only the look on Evin’s face when she saw him last week in the mess hall that had persuaded her to try. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, which was hardly unusual in and of itself, but he’d snapped at three trainees in line for supper and had failed to clean up the ink stains he left splattered all over the table he sat at alone with his reports. His workload had steadily increased in the months since Buri had officially turned traitor on the Riders to ride with the Own, and she knew he must be losing his mind with all but three of the Rider groups stationed at the northern border in the middle of the largest war in more than a decade, but even she couldn’t deny after that that he deserved to be taken down a peg or two. As the leader of the only group currently in residence at the palace, she’d known it was her place to take the initiative.

She’d brainstormed frantically for days. For all her creativity in cursing her ponies when they didn’t comply--even more than a decade after her first day, she still had what her trainees called an “adversarial and tenuous” working relationship with horses--she’d struggled to think of the right prank to take down a new commander by approximately three notches without ruining any critical paperwork, destroying Crown property, or getting herself fired. She’d started to suspect that this was all an elaborate prank on her from her group members. After all, she found herself the victim of an elaborate joke that threatened to ruin her sanity once and for all at least six times a year, but when she asked for their help with Evin, they’d simply informed her that they’d, of course, do as their group commander told them and left her to her own devices on the planning. Although, she supposed, that might have something to do with how intimidating they found Evin--for all that she thought he was a silly player at heart, with hair that flopped in his eyes and a propensity for wild and poorly-thought out gestures of affection for his friends, she had to wonder if he seemed quite so non-threatening to the brand new Riders who had spent a summer watching him wage a unique brand of psychological warfare that might have scared even Sarge, although he’d never admit it.

As she sat on his desk, kicking her feet against one drawer while she lazed back on her hands against some reports, she wondered if she’d gone too far. Certainly, Kitten had thought the ice slide was a grand idea, but Kitten was a dragon, and a toddler, and Miri would never have trusted her opinion if she hadn’t been quite so desperate.

It took ages for Evin to return from his meeting with the queen. She’d checked his schedule carefully with one of the Rider clerks, and he was expected back by the fourth bell after lunch, but the fifth was rapidly approaching by the time she heard footsteps in the corridor leading to his office. She used one of the last moments she had as he turned a key in the latch to check that the door to the courtyard behind her was still fully shut, apparently locked, and snapped around to face front as he entered the room.

“You’re on my desk because...?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Because last time I sat in one of the chairs, and you failed to notice my presence for a full twenty minutes.”

He’d been nose-deep in a sheaf of papers when he’d come in, a brisk fall breeze blowing leaves in behind him from the courtyard, and he’d walked straight past her. She’d been entertained at first, but it took a kick to the shins under the desk, after she’d cleared her throat several times, to make him realize he was not alone.

“It wasn’t twenty minutes! It couldn’t have been more than five before you left a bruise so bad my leg throbbed for weeks!”

“Weeks? My sources tell me you were fully healed not three days later when you met Sera Gladstone behind the merchants’ day-stables.”

“How’d you hear about that one?” Evin demanded, a hint of awe in his voice.

“I have my sources,” she replied with a pert shrug and a grin.

“I’d commit murder for your sources, Miri. You still won’t turn spy for me?”

“Wherever would I find the time? My commander gets fussy if I don’t have my Riders fully trained and ready to move at his slightest whim,” she shot back. “I thought your side job was a secret from the Riders, anyway.”

“If I can keep it that way.” Evin rubbed his eyes hard, smudging a bit of ink on one temple and leaving his cheeks ruddy. “Sometimes I think I’m one more late night away from cracking and telling the whole palace, just so George will kill me quick.”

“That bad?”

“That bad. I’ve got nearly ten daily reports to read and condense for George now, plus, you know, the actual war going on that Buri dumped me straight in the middle of, plus finding recruits for next spring when not a parent in the kingdom wants their child in military service, plus--”

Miri cut him off before he could get going. “Let’s take a walk then,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly, with a prayer to the Trickster that he hadn’t noticed. 

“With what time?”

“With the time before dinner. You look like you need it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“You love the cold.”

“And you hate it.”

Miri almost sighed before she caught herself. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten herself in this mess, but there were three gallons of purple paint strung up above his door and Riders waiting with very precise instructions on the roof, so she figured she’d best get moving before something came crashing down.

“I’d brave the cold for you, sir,” she said, with her best, most casual eye roll. “My Commander requires a break, and I’m proud to be of service.” She took on some of his own airs in her reply. She’d discovered in their years of friendship that nothing amused him so much as her attempts to put on his Player airs, and she had a vested interest in getting him outside before the sparrows who had agreed to participate left for the page’s wing and their evening meal. 

He sighed as he pushed his chair back from his desk. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

“What?” Miri asked, doing her best to feign innocence. “Is a walk with your oldest friend that intolerable?”

“Miri, you have the worst poker face of anyone I’ve ever met. I’d actually like to rescind my earlier job offer, based solely on this performance. But if I’m going to get pranked, I’d at least like to make it quick so I can get at the reports you’re currently sitting on.”

His eyes darkened as he looked at the stack of papers beneath her, and he rubbed his eyes again. Close to him for the first time in more than two weeks, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the new wrinkles at their corners.

“You really are exhausted,” she commented, a twinge of sympathy turning into guilt in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the large quantities of bread dough waiting to cushion his fall at the foot of Kitten’s ice slide.

“I really am.” Evin was moving towards the door to the courtyard, steeling himself with a deep breath while he removed his tunic and folded it carefully on the chair behind his desk that Miri had avoided. 

The twinge of sympathy she’d felt was now a wave, engulfing her and threatening to make her do something she’d never have considered even a half-hour before: back down. 

“Wait! Maybe don’t...open that yet.” She hopped off his desk, wincing as several of the top papers follow her down. Evin paused, one hand on the door’s latch.

She looked around the room frantically for something long enough and found a poker, propped against the small fireplace in one wall. She grabbed it and leaped over the arm onto the chair where Evin’s tunic sat. She spared a quick giggle at his dramatic wince and then tapped the ceiling above her firmly, twice fast and three times slow. She counted to five and repeated the code for good measure--any good Rider plan, they’d been taught, has an out.

When she looked back down, Evin was smiling. There was a familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes, one that had been missing for weeks. “What was going to happen?”

“Kitten had made an ice slide, and Johanssen and Norris are on the roof with some purple paint, and I had the bakers set dough at the bottom to cushion you, and, well, things escalate from there. The sparrows are probably gone by now, anyway, and I’m not sure that Onua ever set up the wooden horses, she looked so annoyed when I asked...”

Miri trailed off, as Evin started to laugh. She let out a chuckle or two herself as she watched him lose control in fits of giggles, relieved to find that her friend was still there, under the stress and paperwork.

“You’re going to be great at this, you know,” she commented casually, hoping he knew how much she meant the rare compliment.

“I hope you’re right,” he replied, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes as he caught his breath. “Anyway, could we actually go on a walk, now? I’d gotten rather excited to have an excuse to avoid my paperwork. I’ll even bathe in some of the purple paint, if it’ll make Spiderdeath respect your pranks, which are still absolutely terrible, by the way.”

“No purple paint necessary, but I do know the best spot in the night market for a good pasty, if you’re interested.”

Evin was nodding vigorously as he opened the door before he was promptly doused by several gallons of bright lavender paint. Miri groaned, realizing that her Riders must have rigged the buckets to the door and left for their own evening in the city.

Evin, though, was still smiling. “I’d still love a pasty, if you don’t mind the color,” he commented, holding a dripping arm out to her while he used the other hand to wipe his face.

Miri spared a moment’s thought for her clothes--she did like this shirt--but swallowed it as she took the offered arm and linked her elbow in his. After all, he seemed like he needed the night out.

[ditch-witches]

Blue Peonies (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

PART ONE

requested: yes/no (this is probably one of my favorite AUs) peonies

pairing: country!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: very very very light smut

word count: 3,080

a/n: So like farm!Dean really hits home for some of us over at headquarters, I'm sorry

Your hands tightened on the thin steering wheel in front of you as your radio hummed along to the sound of the tires crunching down the gravel roads. The sweet summer breeze tugged at your updo, threatening to pull your hair from its restraint as buildings began to disappear, throwing distance between you and the city. The peonies were finally beginning to bloom, dotting the sides of the road and bringing a nostalgic smell into the air that you had grown foreign to while you were at school. The sight of such a scene brought the thirst for your mother's sweet tea into your thoughts alongside the pond beside your father's land under a velvety sunset.

As the forest line belonging to your father came within eyesight, you sighed slightly, pulling your sunglasses on top of your head and checking your lipstick in your rearview mirror knowing it would be the first thing your mother would comment on even if half your ass was hanging out of your dress. At the thought of her dress code, you snickered, reminiscing about the time you had to apologize to your father's farmhands for wearing shorts around them. You slipped your suit jacket off your shoulders, combating the heat of the day as your heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing your father for the first time in months. Pulling into the long dirt driveway, you silently thanked yourself for putting on a skirt that wasn't as constraining as your daily attire as soon as you spotted the several bloodhounds thundering towards your car. Their flopping, joyful faces put you at ease, being a symbol for the simplicity of your time on the farm with your family. They attacked your vehicle like an army as you stood, bending down slightly to greet some of them before they finally identified you and cleared out.

You vaguely thought about how the dirt would cover your blue-tipped shoes, but as your sights settled on the group of men at one of the barns packing up for the day, your attention locked onto something more important. Hope fluttered in your stomach as you shut your car door and began to make your way towards the men. You attempted to focus on the soft fabric of your skirt flowing about your knees rather than your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Maybe if you thought of him enough, he would really be mixed into the crowd, not having been shipped off to another farm before you had the chance to see him again.

And then as if your silent prayers had been answered, a familiar head of curly, brown hair came into view. Dean threw a few shovels into the back of a truck and tucked his work gloves into his back pocket as he kicked at the dirt, listening to one of the other men around his age talk about something. You couldn't fight the smile as you picked up speed slightly and he looked up, his blue eyes sparkling as if no time had passed between the two of you. His smile grew and he took a few steps to meet you. You quickly closed the space between you, jumping into his arms and wrapping yourself around his neck tightly. Your feet dangled off the ground a few inches as you dug yourself into the crook of his neck, paying no mind to how dirty he was from the day's work. His shoulders seemed to relax in your touch as if he was relieved to be held by you once again.

He put you down after a moment and held you out in front of him, searching your face like he was attempting to memorize your features once again. He waved forward the few men waiting for him to leave and you dug your fingers into his hair, still soft and full like you remembered. "You cut your hair," was the only thing you could think of to tell him as he stood before you. You had pictured this moment so often to get you through the rough patches in school, but not once had you thought you would have been as overwhelmed by just how much he had changed. He had grown up since you had seen him last; his face more defined, his arms stronger, his smile somehow wiser and aged, yet his eyes still held the same child-like wonder you had remembered so fondly. In his eyes, you saw the countless nights beneath the stars and the hours spent driving around just to hear a song a few more times. The light in the blues of his irises was almost a direct image of the lightning bugs dotting the meadows between the gaps in the trees where the two of you would get lost for an hour or two.

Your fingers brushed against his jaw as his hands grazed across your body to affix on your lower back. "Miss me?" He coaxed with a small sigh in content. You shook your head teasingly, making him chuckle softly, a sound you had missed more than brightly colored peonies. You pulled him into your arms again, clutching onto him as if you believed that the slightest gust of wind would take him away from you again. Dean pressed his lips against your shoulder, your skin brustling beneath your shirt as if it were wanting to reach out and touch him.

"I thought you left," you hummed and stood back again, now obsessed with the subtle dimple at one corner of his mouth.

He leaned down to kiss one of your wrists, his rough hands settling on your arm and rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb. "No way. You still haven't married me yet, sweetheart," he taunted affectionately, making you roll your eyes and titter.

"If that's what keeps you around, I'll never marry you," you countered with a quipped eyebrow.

He grinned again, leaning towards you. "That's rough," he mumbled before his lips finally met yours. You nearly melted into his touch as he smiled into your kiss. You couldn't help pressing your body against his as you felt the tension of the year rolling off your shoulders, him drawing out your carefree self with each of his subtle breaths and his hands curling into the ends of your hair. It was like you were kissing him for the first time in the stables again, his treaty of passion once again evident in the buzzing of your lips with every touch and brush of his skin against yours. You pulled away from him reluctantly, earning a groan from the boy as he buried his nose in your hair.

"Do you wanna go swimming?" You proposed, your eyes locking on the sky beginning to blend into an almost buttery sunset, making Dean halt his actions and move to raise an eyebrow in your direction. Before you knew it the two of you were sprinting through the woods towards the pond and throwing off your clothes. The water was warm and glistening in the soft glow of the sun as you dove into its murky depths, Dean following close behind you, splashing enough to take you under the surface with him. You pushed off of him with a laugh, throwing a wave of dark cyan towards him as he shook out his hair and swept more water in your direction.

As the two of you settled, Dean swam closer to you, his eyes seemingly more magnificent in comparison to the greenery around the pond. Those eyes were nothing compared to the peonies. You felt stupid for describing them as such to your college friends. The willow trees curtaining the perimeter shielded some of the orange rays of light peeking through their branches as if trying to get a look at the two of you, creating stripes across Dean's soft features as his gaze focused on yours. He reached for you beneath the water, pulling you towards him as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Your fingers found their way into the curls at the base of his neck once again. His hand settled on your neck after tucking one of your disobedient strands of hair behind your ear.

Dean leaned on his elbows as you tied your wet hair into a braid, sitting beside him as you both lounged on a picnic blanket beneath one of the grand trees. You pulled your knees to your chest, your tank top finally drying out some as the sun dipped further into the tree line. You sighed, drinking in the remainder of the day beside Dean. You turned away from the scene before you to catch a glimpse of Dean as he sat up, crossing his legs before turning to you, a gentle smile on his lips. "What?" He raised.

You smirked slightly, leaning your cheek on your knees. "Your mama ever tell you you're pretty?" You mused, making him snicker.

"Cut that out," he mumbled, swaying to knock his shoulder against yours.

You snorted slightly, finally seeming to find everything you wanted to tell him about during your school days. "You know, you're the poster boy of what all the girls on my dorm floor daydream about?"

His eyebrows furrowed, a cocky grin sweeping across his face. "Oh really?"

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, enjoying his confidence blossoming before you. "Uh-huh. They all talked about this ideal man that was one that visited them in their dreams," you insinuated and he bit back a chuckle. "A man that really knows how to work with his hands."

A rosy blush warmed his cheeks and tips of his ears mildly as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "Hmm. Did you tell them about me then?"

You focused back on the sky as the breeze swept through the spindly leaves, the sound a hymn of summer nights like this one. "No, sir. I kept you for myself," you gloated, the sweet sound of his laugh rang through the air once again.

"Well, I guess we're even then because the guys are the same way." You turned to him, quipping an eyebrow at his sentence. You could practically feel the material of his soft t-shirt under your fingertips as you gazed at him in the low light. It was almost time for the fireflies to dance around the fields like fallen stars. "You're the farmer's daughter. You're every boy's fantasy with a job like this one."

"Am I your fantasy, Dean?" You leered as he leaned back on his hands to settle in closer to you.

His eyes jumped to yours with a small smirk. "That and so much more, my love," he answered definitively, making the both of you giggle loud enough to break up the music of the night's ancient rhythm. You tilted your head at the boy, catching your breath as his lazy smile looked forward, directed at nothing in particular. His gaze returned to you, looking at you like you were the only thing that existed to him at this moment. His hand brushed through your hair before moving to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly as his eyes fixated on yours. He leaned forward to smooth a kiss against your forehead, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, a map to your lips as the sound of cicadas blurred around you. The lavender sky enveloped you as he deepened the kiss, reclining the two of you to press your back into the silky blanket beneath you, his breath fanning over your cheek to mix with the smell of summer on his skin.

Your fingers delved into his hair, tugging softly to draw out a moan as his lips left yours to explore your jaw and collarbones. His calloused hand ran along your side, pushing your shirt up slightly so he could finally touch your soft skin. You indulged in the feeling of his hands after so long almost as if him holding onto you was the only thing grounding you to the Earth. He gently nipped at the skin just before the seam of your top, his hair brushing against your chin as you tilted your head backward to allow him more access. You reached for the hand he wasn't leaning on for support, him watching your eyes as you dragged it up to grasp at your breast. He sealed the space between you in another ardent kiss, humming against your lips as your hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He leaned away from you, helping you tug his shirt over his head, grinning at you as you pulled him back against you. Your hands caressed the soft skin on his torso, feeling every muscle that lay beneath it. His kisses continued to litter your body as his hands wandered from your breast to your legs to your face again. His wandering hands teased to remove the remaining clothing you had on. His blue eyes had darkened and now they were locked on yours eagerly, almost asking permission to remove your skirt.

He could tell you were as eager as him just by your reaction to his touch, but moved slowly, taking his time and pacing himself to make sure he didn't seem disrespectful, despite having been with you several times before. It was almost as if he was savoring every second he got to spend against you. His calloused hands grazed over your skin and came to rest on either side of your head for support as you slipped his boxers off his hips. He positioned himself at your entrance and slid into you slowly resting momentarily for you to adjust to him, his lips feathering against your cheek. His icy, lust blown eyes connected with yours just as he set the relaxing pace for the both of your bodies. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were unraveling around him, just the sight of him made the fire within you burn brighter.

Dean leaned down to kiss you gently to seal the passion of the moment. You were wholly at the mercy of what he wanted, but he continued to keep you close, slowing his movements just to get a look at your face or press a kiss to your jaw, showing you how much he truly cared for you and your body. His head came to rest upon your cheek as he whispered about how beautiful you were into your ear and how long he had waited for your return. You couldn't tell if it was his sweet accent ringing in your ears or the care and precision he used when he was with you, but he was bringing you closer to your edge and you were not willing to waste the opportunity. Dean could see your approval of his actions, a small smile gracing his face in the soft light from the moon, and continued to fulfill your need until you were riding your high against him teasing him to do the same. His high followed and he rolled off of you being careful not to flop on top of your arms as he lowered himself.

You rested your head upon his chest, smelling the sweat of hard work mixing with his cologne from the morning. It didn't matter how much time had elapsed and how much he had changed, he still smelled like the summer breeze on a good day. You didn't think anything could be better than this, not even heaven. Dean wrapped his arms around you keeping you close. You both laid there taking in each other for what seemed like hours before he reached for your hand and looked down at you, locking his blue eyes with yours. "God, I'm glad it's summer again," he whispered to you, almost as softly as the wind as it ruffled the peonies.

You laced your fingers with Dean's as you strolled up to the old farmhouse, the warm glow of the kitchen light a welcome sight. You could hardly mask the fuzzy feeling of being pulled tighter against his hip as he pressed a kiss against your temple. The night loon called from the other side of your land to mix with the crickets and the windchime. Dean's eyes snapped up from yours slightly and you turned your head, following his sights to your vehicle. You smiled with pride as he began to speak. "That's sweet," he whistled, making you chuckle.

You turned to him as you reached the end of the sidewalk up to your back porch. "You like it? It's my boyfriend's back on campus," you jeered, making him wheeze and you smacked his chest. "Relax, I'm joking!" You giggled as he rolled his eyes. You pulled him towards you again and hugged him tightly, your fingers digging into the material of his shirt. Your lips hovered near his ear. "It actually belongs to the professor I'm fucking," you mumbled and he leaned away from you.

He shook his head at your devious expression. "Minx," he muttered, leaning towards you again to kiss you softly.

You heard the screen door slam open and a ghastly noise break into the air. "That's enough for tonight!" Your mother hollered, breaking the two of you up. Dean smiled and waved at her and you tugged his arm down.

"Do you wanna do something tomorrow?" Dean asked as he stepped away from you, heeding your mother's command. The moonlight bathed him in a cool tone, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. Your heart seemed to beat harder as he smiled.

You leaned against the railing lining the sidewalk and crossed your arms, kicking at the dirt. "Definitely-"

"I'm serious!" She called again, cutting you off, and you looked over your shoulder.

"I heard you! I'm a grown adult, mama! Let me say good night!" You hollered back. She groaned loudly, mumbling to herself as she walked back inside.

Dean giggled slightly. "I'll pick you up then," he answered.

"You better," you mirrored, tugging him towards you again for one last kiss. He smiled against your lips, a sweet seal of love. "Goodnight," you mumbled between embraces.

"Goodnight, love," he cooed, breaking apart from you and inching towards his truck as you turned on your heel and climbed the steps of your porch. You slept deeply that night, your dreams filled with Dean and his magnificent blue eyes.

[invaderdoom78]

Fright of Life and Death part 1

“Who wants to live next to a cemetery?” Charley asked, looking out the second-story window of the house they were in

He and Peter had just finished up killing a single male vampire, who didn’t seem to be playing with a full deck of cards, judging by the large amount of crucifixions he had nailed to the wall and the scripture passages and prayers he’d hastily written on the wall in paint.

“Someone who’s not mentally stable” Peter said, putting away his equipment

“Think he was afraid of his ghost neighbors coming for a visit?” Charley asked, moving away from the window

“Probably!” Peter exclaimed, moving to look out the window with Charley “it looks like no ones visited that place in decades”

“They probably in hoards like angry not so passive-aggressive relatives coming over wondering why they never hear from anyone”

“Thank you for putting that not at all horrifying thought in my head”

“Pft” Charley huffed, looking over at Peter “how is that scary?”

“Do you know how to stop a pissed off ghost?”

“You don’t, because they aren’t real”

“Bullshit!”

“Whatever, Peter”

“Let’s get outta here” Peter said slinging their equipment bag on his back “this place is givin’ me the fuckin’ creeps”

“Yeah, you got me there” Charley agreed

After a five-hour-long drive Charley and Peter finally got back to the older hunters' house both of them immediately collapsed on the couch, exhausted from the drive.

“We need to put back the weapons” Charley said, head flopping back on the couch

“I drove up and back, you do it” Peter said, slouching further into his couch

“Ugh” Charley groaned loudly “FINE!”

Literally rolling off of the couch and onto the floor, Charley got up and shuffled over to the bag, picking it up haphazardly enough for a box to fall out of it.

“The fuck’d that box come from?” Peter asked, looking at the intricately hand-carved oak box that was now laying on his floor

“I think I saw it back at the vampire's house” Charley said getting a better look at the box “I think it was by the epicenter of the wall writing”

“How’d it get in the bag?” Peter asked as Charley picked it up

“Ghosts?” Charley asked with a shrugged

“Alright, dickhead”

“It’s stuck” Charley grunted, trying to pull open the box’s lid “do you have a knife or something I can use to pry it open with?”

“In the kitchen” Peter said

Shuffling back to the kitchen Charley searched through several, pretty much empty, drawers until he found one that was full of what looked like all of Peters's silverware. On top of the pile sat a butcher knife that looked like it would be perfect for the task at hand. Setting the box down on the counter Charley shoved the knife between the gap of the lid and popped it open, freeing the small nails that were poking out of the lid, like someone had tried to make sure the box stayed shut, but underestimated the length that the nails needed to be.

“What the fuck was in this box?” Charley asked, noticing that the inside of the lid had been scratched all to hell, some of them so deep that it was a surprise they didn’t break through to the other side, it almost looked like something was trying to claw its way out of the confined space

“There’s no way that’s big enough for anything living to have been inside of it” Peter said, joining Charley in the kitchen

“Then what the hell are these?” Charley asked, pointing at the scratches

“I’m telling you it’s ghosts” Peter said

“Should we crack out the ouija board then?” Charley asked, raising both of his eyebrows

“Do you have one on you?”

“No” Charley said looking around for a notebook “but I can make one”

“Oh, I’m sorry” Peter said when Charley found what he was looking for “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts”

“I don’t” Charley said, ripping out a sheet of paper from the notebook Peter kept at the bar, scribbling the alphabet onto it

“Why are you putting any effort into this then?”

“Because”

“Because why?”

“Why not”

“I’m not following your thought process here”

“Come on” Charley pressed

“No, I’m not taking the risk”

“You’re no fun” Charley said grabbing a shot glass to use as the planchet

“I have a sense of self-preservation”

Charley blew a raspberry at him “What kind of questions should I ask it?”

“Ask it if you’re a bitch”

“Your mom” Charley said slowly, moving the glass around the paper

“Yeah” Peter chuckled a bit “real mature”

“It wasn’t me. It was the ghost!”

“Right. What else is the ghost telling you?”

“Let’s see” Charley said, looking back down at the makeshift ouija board “f-u-c-k-y-o-u”

They heard a door inside the house open and Aro stepped into the living room.

“Hello, Charlie” Aro said in a very monotone voice, he still didn’t like the younger hunter but had decided that he could at least be courteous to him since he was the only one who was watching out for Peter when he was out hunting, since it wouldn’t be wise to make Peters connection to the Volturi known

“I’ll see you later” Charley said, quickly grabbing his duffle bag

“You didn’t put the shit away, Charlie” Peter yelled after the younger hunter as he ran out of the house “Charlie!”

“How did your hunt go?” Aro asked walking up to Peter

“We got a ghost box” Peter said

“A what?” Aro asked, visibly confused

“Ghost box” Peter said, suppressing a yawn “we have no idea how we got it. It was just in the bag when we got back”

“How odd” Aro said noticing how tiered Peter looked “you look exhausted, dear”

“Yeah” Peter yawned “I’m going to bed”

“Before you do” Aro said, stopping Peter from going back to his room “give me your clothes so I can wash them for you”

“Sure” Peter said, stipping out of what he was wearing

Handing his clothing over to the vampire Peter walked back to his bedroom and put on a pair of sleep pants before flopping face down on his bed so he could sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep for but when he woke up it was dark and he was alone in the bedroom, but he could hear faint chanting coming from outside the room. Rolling out of bed Peter stepped through the threshold of his room and out to what he thought was going to be his living room, but he found himself standing in the middle of an empty field, a group of four cloaked people surrounding something on the ground. They were all quietly chanting in unison, but he wasn’t able to make out what they were saying. Taking a few steps closer to the group of people Peter felt the air slowly being stolen from his lungs as the wind around him began howling. Turning around he tried to step back through the door to his bedroom but the door had disappeared.

“Oh shit!” Peter exclaimed taking a few steps backward, bumping into something solid behind him

With a faint grunt, Peter felt himself bounce off of whatever was behind him. Whipping around he saw the tallest of the hooded figures standing directly behind him as the other three slowly circling around him as more figures came out of the shadows to trap him inside the ring of people. Suddenly his legs were swept out from under him and he found himself on the ground, his back having been slammed into the almost concrete-like dirt, leaving him stunned and his vision blurring.

Waking up Peter’s entire body was aching, almost like he’d gotten into a fistfight and lost, and his limbs were far too heavy for him to be able to move them. As Peter lay in bed unable to move he could hear something dragging itself around the room, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound either because whatever it was made a very wet squelching sound as it moved.

All he was able to do was look up at the ceiling as the dragging sound got closer and closer, as the sound of claws digging themselves into the wall as it pulled itself up the wall echoed throughout the room. Peter tried to lift himself off of his bed but it felt like there was an impossibly heavy weight on top of him holding him down; he couldn’t even turn his head to the side, the only thing he could move was his eyes. Utilizing the only part of his body that he could move he looked over to the side of the bed Aro sat on but found it empty. Upon realizing that he was alone Peter felt the onset of panic beginning to set in that was only made worse once he heard the squelching sound directly above him and, even though he didn’t want to, he looked up at the ceiling and saw a goopy black mass directly above him. As soon as he looked at it the mass began to almost jiggle as almost skeletal looking limbs stretched out of it and reached out for him until they were barely an inch away from his face. Grabbing hold of his head, the hands were holding him so tightly that it felt like it was going to crush his skull as the black mass plunged down at him from above.

Walking through the front door Aro removed his cloak, not hanging it up like he normally would as he needed to treat the bloodstain on the front of it. Folding it over his arm he made his way to the laundry room, laying his cape on the washer, and grabbing the stain stick, rudding at the blood until it vanished. With the stain no longer visible the vampire folded it neatly and set it with the rest of the laundry that needed to be done. Stepping out of the laundry room Aro saw Peter slumped on the couch and while he normally sat in odd positions, this seemed like it would be uncomfortable even for him. Aro knew that the original anniversary of his parents' deaths was coming up in a few weeks so he figured that there would be a bit of an increase in Peters drinking along with a bit of a negative turn in his demeanor, but something about the scene before him felt off.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aro asked, furrowing his brow

“I don’t know” Peter said on a gush of breath “I just feel... odd”

“Are you ill?” Aro asked, taking a seat on the couch next to his human

“... I don’t know”

“Let me...” Aro said reaching out to feel Peters forehead to see if it was warm or not

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, leaning away from Aro’s hand when it almost reached his forehead “don’t!”

“You’re being ridiculous” Aro sighed, reaching out, trying to feel if Peter was warm again

“No” Peter yelled, jumping off of the couch

“Vincent!” Aro exclaimed, getting to his feet, grabbing Peters wrist

Despite what the majority of people believed Aro could choose when he wanted to use his abilities on someone and had promised Peter that he would never use them on him without his consent, save for when he had just woken up from a night terror and was unable to articulate what was wrong, but he could tell that this was a situation where he had no other choice. This time he saw nothing; no thoughts, no memories, only a black void with an oblong human snake hybrid skull-like face lurking in the shadows of his thoughts. Letting go of Peters's arm Aro looked at him in horror, not knowing what he’d just seen but he did know that his only option was to go and talk to Charley if he wanted to find out what was going on. Backing away slowly Aro waited until Peter wasn’t looking at him before snatching up his car keys and walking out the door. Glancing over his shoulder Aro made sure that he wasn’t being watched before getting in Peters's car and driving off towards Charlie's house.

“Hi?” Mrs. Brewster asked, opening the front door of her home

“Hello” Aro said “is this the Brewster residence?”

“Yes. Who are...” Mrs. Brewster almost asked before realization struck “oh, you must be Aro” she stepped aside “please come in”

“Thank you” Aro said with a polite smile, stepping inside the house

“So what brings you here?”

“Peter has been acting a bit odd the last few days and I was hoping I could ask your son about what happened on their last hunt”

“Well” Mrs. Brewster said, looking at her watch “he won’t be done with class for about fifteen more minutes and I have no idea if he’ll come home when he’s done or not”

“I don’t mind waiting”

“Well, can I get you anything?” Mrs. Brewster asked, looking like she was wracking her brain to try and figure out what the anything could potentially be

“No, thank you”

“Make yourself at home then”

[niksfiks]

Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 10

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger warning: mentions of dubcon, violence, PTSD, sexual assault, and physical abuse in later chapters. 

Also on Ao3 

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs). Taglist is open

Tagging @mischievousbellerina @fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @amwolowicz

Chapter 10: Exit, Stage Right

Aleksa watched quietly as two guards moved along their patrol route, thankful that the back halls were monitored less frequently than the corridor she’d been led through from the dungeons. Accessing the ventilation systems was far easier than anticipated and the large conduits gave her quiet and unrestricted access to her goal. The waves of nausea that had plagued her since awakening had subsided, thanks in no small part to the bits of bread and meat she’d managed to pilfer from the kitchens. The pain was easing as well, a sure sign that her body was adjusting to whatever changes Terragenesis had brought. A silent prayer for not turning into something like Lash went up. 

Some fates are worse than death. Maybe Nick can get these damn implants taken out. Or Malik, whichever comes first. 

Her objective was close. She could sense the energy radiating off of it along with dozens of other objects suspected to be held in the vault. Perhaps something else would be of enough interest to the Council for her to buy her way out of her contract and vanish for good, maybe to some backwater third world country. Wakanda was nice, she’d heard. 

A newly arrived squad of soldiers drew her attention. They were more heavily armed than those standing watch over the vault, speaking in hushed tones. Aleksa was barely able to make out what was said but understood the implication. 

Time to go. 

The larger patrol moved away, dividing themselves down different corridors as they traveled. 

Longer I’m here, the more complicated this gets, she thought, slinking down the shaft. No one said Malik needed to know if or when I got... 

There.

Just beneath her lay the inner vault. The hum of power was nearly deafening. All of Aleksa’s concentration became focused on suppressing the noise until she determined where her target was. Once located, she recalled an old mantra to drown out all sound and dropped into the room. Drawing a deep breath, she concentrated on the energy patterns of floor and walls, noting the changes in color and intensity until she was confident of where everything was: the doors, the guards on the other side, additional ventilation shafts and hidden rooms. 

A lack of distinguishable security measures concerned her as she snuck along the floor, passing artifact after artifact. The concern was short-lived as the doors to the vault swung wide, admitting Loki and a pack of guards hot on his heels. 

Aleksa swore under her breath, breaking into a full run to her destination. The glowing blue cube sat on its pedestal, mesmerizing her as she reached out to take it.  

“Stop!” Loki shouted, Aleksa’s hand hovering over the cube. He approached slowly, followed by the guards, their weapons leveled on her. “You won’t survive if you touch that. You've no idea the power it holds.”

“Oh, really?” Aleksa smirked, looking at the cube and back at Loki, daring him to continue moving forward while she scanned the room again. None of the possible exits were going to be accessible from where she stood. The only option was behind her but there was no guarantee that there was an exit on the other side of the grating.  

“Better to burn out than to fade away,” she muttered and reached for the cube. 

Before Loki could respond, the soldiers behind him opened fire. An explosion of blinding blue light knocked them all to the floor. He rose slowly, trying to shake off the effects of the blast. Taking a cautious step forward in the rubble, he saw the woman laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, the Tesseract glowing in her hand. He stopped as she climbed to her feet, watching in awe while her eyes shifted from the same blue glow of the cube to gold to the hazel he’d seen when they met. 

“Give me the Tesseract,” he cooed, “and no harm will come to you.” 

Aleksa just stood there, her brain racing to keep up with the volumes of information being fed into it. She thought she heard Loki’s voice, but wasn’t sure she understood the words. The sound of rushing water caught her attention, spurring her to the newly formed opening in the vault wall. A river flowed below her, awakening memories of distant lands.  

Loki stepped back when new strands of light began swirling between them. Aleksa’s eyes went wide, a sly grin crossing her face as the room disappeared behind a widening circle of blue and white. She watched in awe as greens and browns came into focus. While the homes she’d known were gone, she was certain she was looking at her birthplace. 

A portal without a sling ring. Wait...what? W-why do I know that?

Aleksa blinked and the portal started shrinking. When the circle closed, Loki was almost directly in front of her, his hand outstretched. 

“You can’t hope to control it. Give me the Tesseract and I’ll send you home.”

“Already got a ride, thanks.” She spun around and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward. “That’s twice,” she laughed.

Loki scrambled to his feet, watching her move to the other side of the hall only to launch herself through the open wall. When he saw her again, she was emerging on the bank opposite the palace, flipping the cube in her hand before taking off in a sprint across the plain. 

“I want her brought back alive,” he growled. He turned back to the guards, all staring in shock. “NOW!”

-----

Aleksa was able to hide easily enough from the ships patrolling above her and the two ravens sent out from the palace now and again, but her progress was slowed by the sheer amount of energy she had to expend to shield the surges of power the Tesseract would give off. She felt sure that if she could sense it from a distance, so could Loki. She was hopeful that the proximity of the Rainbow Bridge and observatory housing the Bifrost was helping to mask it, but couldn’t risk being discovered. The more she felt her own energy draining, the more she concentrated on her memories of the rescue plan and made for the fields between her and the Earth-bound portal. 

The portal. There was no guarantee that it still functioned, that the intervals were still stable, or how long she’d have to wait for it to open. Even if it was operating as normal, she had no way to know who would be waiting on the other side, if anyone. There were just too many question marks for this escape route to work. 

Another skiff roared over her head and she dropped to the ground. Perhaps commandeering one of those ships would prove a better option. Find a transport off Asgard and vanish into the universe. Surely, someone else would want Loki’s magic cube as badly as he did. 

Or...

She looked around and saw no signs of pursuers, then gently slid the Tesseract out of its pouch. It glowed brighter in her hand, sending a sensation of warmth through her body. 

Mesmerized by the changing light floating in front of her, she stared into the cube, imagining all of the places she could go. Her eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed, focusing on where in the universe she wanted to be. 

“Keeper of the Stone, master of space,” a soft voice whispered in her head. A voice that she’d heard a million times before but just couldn’t align with a face. “Come home.”

She held the Tesseract out in front of her and allowed the energy to surge through her, willing the portal into existence. White light began to arc around the cube, sending sparks into the air. 

Aleka’s eyes opened as the portal widened, giving the faintest glimpse of the ocean stretching into the distance. Sand appeared next, then the familiar beach grass and fencing. She stood, stepping toward the portal while watching her home materialize in front of her. The shouts of soldiers distracted her, sending the portal to another location. When she turned back, Aleksa saw sands scorched black and structures smoldering in the distance.

“No! Nononononono!” she screamed, falling to the ground. The portal hissed shut when the Tesseract dropped from her hands and rolled into a boot. Aleksa looked up to see a large, heavily armored man towering above her.

“Back you go, dearie,” was the last thing she heard before the world went dark. 

[serendipitykpop]

amusement park

Pairing: wong kunhang x reader

Summary: “Let’s go to the amusement park!”

“Y/N. Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“What was with the attitude just now, Yangyang?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that my idiotic sibling is going on a date to the amusement park even though you can’t handle the rides. Then, there’s also the fact that you’re going on this date because apparently you’re in love with one of my members now.” He rolled over onto his stomach on your bed.

“You said you were fine with it.”

“I am, but I still just don’t get it. What does he see in my overly dramatic, and bothersome sibling anyway?”

You frowned, and threw a pillow at him, which made him laugh.

“I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m happy for you, you dork.”

“Mhm.”

“Aw, come on. You know I have to play the annoying little brother card now that you’ve managed to somehow get a boyfriend.”

“Why is it that whenever you talk, it’s always an insult?”

“Love you.”

“Get out of here.”

“Can’t.”

You rolled your eyes, and went back to double checking everything you needed for the day.

“Sunscreen? Money? Your stuffed turtle for when you get too scared?”

“Quit it.”

“I’m just saying.” He shrugged right when the doorbell rang from downstairs. You two looked at each other, then bolted for the door.

“I’m saying hi to my best friend first. Screw the fact that you’re dating.”

“I get first priority though because I am dating him.”

“Not in my book!”

“Yangyang!”

While the two of you were fighting to get down to the bottom step of the stairwell, your mother opens the front door.

“Kunhang, it’s lovely to see you. Here to pick up Y/N?”

“Yes, I-” He paused when he saw you, and your brother entangled at the stairs. Meanwhile, your mother let out a tired sigh, and shook her head.

Yangyang pushed you down, and jumped to his feet. He stood in front of his fellow member, and smiled.

“Kunhang! Glad to-” He stopped, then cleared his throat. “I mean, have Y/N back on time. No later than the curfew, got it?”

“Got it,” He smiled, and ruffled your brother’s hair. Yangyang grunted, and pushed his hand away to point a finger at him.

“Don’t take me so lightly, young man.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Come on! Let me do this for once! It’s never happened before since Y/N’s never brought a boy home before.”

“Oi.”

“So take me seriously,” He said, completely ignoring you.

“You’re just too cute for that though.” Your boyfriend ruffled his hair again, which made him pout.

“Kunhang!”

“Can I go on my date now, bothersome little brother?” You glared when you passed him, then a smile was directed at your date.

He stuck his tongue out at you, and crossed his arms. “Remember to have fun, but not too much fun.”

“Go to bed, Yangyang.”

“We just had dinner, stupid.”

“Babies need early bedtimes, blah!” You childishly stuck your tongue out at him. He then shooed you and Kunhang out the door, so you were off to the amusement park together.

“You ready for a fun time?”

“Uh huh.” You nervously laughed. You didn’t know how he was so excited when those death traps were standing before you. Maybe this was a bad suggestion for a date on your part, but you couldn’t resist the smile when you suggested it.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” He intertwined your fingers together, then pulled you towards the first roller coaster you could find.

“A roller coaster for the first ride? Are you sure about this?”

“Mm! It’s the new ride everyone’s been talking about, so I thought we could try it together.”

“Oh, great.” You gave him a thumbs up before turning away to panic. Meanwhile, Kunhang couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was. “What the hell am I supposed to? I can’t spoil the fun by telling him I have a fear of heights, and death traps like this.”

Before you could decide what to do, it was your turn to get on, and you couldn’t help but regret every life decision you have ever made. You tightly gripped onto the bars, and muttered for your safety through this hard journey.

“I can do this. Yes, Y/N. You can do this. Totally can do this.”

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You slowly turned your head to him.

“You okay? You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine. I’m just so excited to ride this, you know?” You nervously laughed, it dying down to almost a silent sob. He was about to question you when the announcer came on to say it was time for the ride to start.

“Y/N,” He called softly, and you turned to him with fear in your eyes. He smiled, and extended his hand out to you to hold. You blushed, and slipped your hand into his. “Ready?”

“Mm.”

As soon as the ride started, and you felt a jolt, you gripped onto his hand. He giggled, and turned to the front.

“Relax, angel. I’m right here.”

You nodded, but there was still fear for your life in your heart as you got higher up the roller coaster. You went through what seemed like an endless loop of loops, turns, ups and downs, and twists.

“Y/N, put your hands up! Come on!”

Your eyes widened in fear as he put your intertwined hands up towards the sky.

“This is so fun!”

“This is so bad!”

You shut your eyes, and mumbled your prayers as you hoped to make it out alive. When it came to a stop, you almost kissed the stable ground, but that was too unsanitary.

“Ready for the next one?”

“Already? We just got off this one though.”

“You have to keep up the energy when you’re here, Y/N!”

You sighed, and nodded. He pulled you along, racing towards the next ride. It was the one that went in a circle, but went so fast that you would end up pressed to the side, squishing the poor soul who sat at the end.

“Well, this is better than roller coasters.”

You eyed the people coming off the ride, seeing their crazy eyes, and wide smiles.

“I could’ve sworn I got whiplash.”

Your knees gave out from under you, and you crouched down. Kunhang looked at you with worry as he held your hand.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.”

“You look a bit sick though. Maybe we should sit this one out if you-”

“No!” You interrupted. He blinked in surprise. “We, we can go on the next one. L-Let’s go!”

You grabbed hold of his wrist, and pulled him along. You went on the pirate ship, the ride where you’re raised into the air and is spun around, another roller coaster, then finished it off with the one that dropped you after going up. You were really regretting all of this, but you still held on.

After going on ride after ride, you asked for a small break before continuing. You weren’t sure how much you can endure, and for how long. You plopped down on your seat, and buried your face into your arm while he went to get you a bottle of water.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You barely lifted your head to look at him, having been worn out by the events of today. He took your hands in his, and gave them a squeeze.

“Are you, are you scared of rides?”

Your head shot up. “W-What made you think that?”

“Well, whenever we went on any of the rides, you looked sick to your stomach. I noticed how scared you were, yet I was insensitive by making you go on them.”

“I-” There was no use in hiding it anymore. “All right, yes. I’m a little terrified with rides. I may, or may not have a slight fear of heights, and such.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have picked the amusement park for our date! I would’ve chosen something you liked.”

“But that’s the thing. We always go to places where I want to go. For once, I wanted to do something you liked. Even if it meant going on those death machines.”

He chuckled at your choice of words.

“As cheesy as this sounds, I don’t mind going anywhere with you. As long as I get to be with you, that’s all I want.”

You scrunched your nose.

“So cheesy!” The both of you laughed.

“You weren’t enjoying yourself though, were you?” He sadly smiled, and patted your head. Your cheeks burned a crimson red.

“Well actually, I did have fun. It was worth the rides, seeing as how much you were smiling, and talking so excitedly about everything you wanted to try today.”

Still, he felt awful.

“Kunhang,” You softly spoke, giving his hand a squeeze. “Please don’t feel bad.”

“I have to make it up to you!” Completely ignoring what you said, he made his declaration. He stood up, and pulled you along with him before you could say anything. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel!”

“Kunhang,” You chuckled.

“No, it’s a must, okay? We really have to go on it, or else,” He trailed off.

“Or else what?”

He shook his head, and picked up his pace. The wait wasn’t long, and you two were able to go on fairly quickly. Except, you didn’t want that to be the case.

“Y/N, look, look! You could see everything from up here, even though we’re not at the top yet.” He didn’t get a reply. “Y/N?”

Kunhang turned to you, and his smile faded. He let out a gasp, and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, no! I forgot about your fear. I went running off like an idiot again!”

While he cursed at himself, you were holding onto the side for your life. You didn’t dare take a look down, or even outside. Your only focus was on him.

“Here, do you want me to come over there?”

You held up a hand in a hurry. “No! You’ll rock it!”

He froze in his spot when you shouted, and realized his mistake.

“Right.”

You felt bad for yelling at him, but at the moment, you were too busy with your own emotions. You squeezed your eyes shut, and tried to think of happy moments with Kunhang that would distract you long enough for the ride to end.

“I’m sorry. I just, I just needed to bring you up here.”

You peeked at him through one eye.

“Why?”

“Before I headed out to pick you up, the members told me of a jinx here. They said if I brought you, the person I really, really like, up to the ferris wheel, it’s good luck for our relationship. Meaning we’ll get to be together forever.”

He was so cute.

“Ah! Wong Kunhang, you are going to be the death of me! That was so cute. I would hug, and kiss you right now, but I don’t think I can move.”

A smile finally appeared on his face as you waved for him to slowly make his way over. He sat down beside you, and you let out a whimper. You hugged onto his arm, and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“How are you supposed to kiss me if you’re hiding?”

“Give me a minute to calm my beating heart, Wong.”

He laughed, and nodded. You rested your chin on his shoulder, and pouted. He grinned, then leaned in to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I can’t believe you did all this for the jinx.”

His lips formed a pout. “I wanted to make sure there was a guarantee we’d be together until the end of time!”

“You dork.” You threw your head back, and laughed. He let out a whine, his cheeks growing a bright red. The two of you enjoyed the rest of the ride as he tried everything to keep you distracted. Though, your mind was already occupied with thoughts of him.

“I am happy!” You gleefully spun around, and giggled. You heard him chuckle from behind as he tried to keep up with your fast pace.

“I should’ve gotten you food in the first place.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and winked.

“That’s one way to my heart.”

He gasped. “And not my incredible flirting skills?”

“That too.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

his protector - chapter 7

summary: “you no longer hold the status as my first knight.” that felt like a knife in her heart, but riza had expected it. harsh, but she knew the consequences of her actions and would accept them wholeheartedly, because it was for the king’s own safety. “you’re no longer a part of my court. get the hell out.”

rated: t | words: 2560

read chapter 6 | read on ao3 and ffnet

Riza’s hands were clasped in front of her as she stared at nothing. They hovered just above her lips, poised as if in prayer. While her body was immobile, it was a completely different story inside her head. Her mind was whirring with every outcome. It was torturing her with images of having to bury Alphonse Elric, a boy who had become like a son to her –

Letting out a shaky breath, Riza moved for what felt like the first time in hours to try and stave off the rising panic. Her back cramped from being leant forward for so long, and her arms strained against the movements, her muscles tight.

“Hey,” Roy greeted, entering quietly through the door.

Glancing up at him, she felt the weight of her eyelids weighing down on her.

“Hello,” she replied, her throat like sandpaper.

“Any change?”

Riza shook her head, taking a deep breath as she turned her head to look at Alphonse’s pale face. He almost matched the stark white sheets of the castle hospital and it turned Riza’s stomach.

“No change,” she whispered.

“He’ll be all right,” Roy reassured her, pulling up a chair at the other side of his bed.

Glancing over at the King, Riza saw the determination on his face, but Riza couldn’t drag up the same enthusiasm. She hoped and prayed Alphonse would pull through unscathed. It was all she’d chanted in her head for hours… But seeing how pale he was still… If she looked down at his stomach, she could still see that spear of magic light protruding from his abdomen. Riza swallowed thickly.

“I fixed everything inside. He’s brand new in there.” Lifting a hand, Roy held it above Al’s stomach and closed his eyes in concentration. Apparently satisfied, he opened his eyes and relaxed back into the chair.

“What did you do?” she asked.

Turning to face her, Roy explained himself. “I was using magic to determine how the blood was flowing in the area of the injury.”

“And?” It was almost choked coming out of her.

“Everything is fine. He lost a lot as I worked. His body is just trying to replenish it all before he comes back to see you.”

Riza nodded, glancing back at Alphonse’s face.

“We just have to wait for him to wake up in his own time.”

That was easier said than done. She wouldn’t be able to rest until Alphonse’s eyes were open again. Riza hadn’t slept, and the battle had happened yesterday. She hadn’t even showered. There were still dried bits of mud on her arms and tiny scratches from where the backs of her hands and wrists had been dragged along the ground. The blood there had turned brown, clotted long ago. Riza knew should wash up but couldn’t bring herself to leave his side. Just like on that battlefield, it felt like Alphonse was her own son. She couldn’t leave him.

This is on you.

A deep breath inflated her lungs, but it sounded like a whimper as it passed her lips.

“This wasn’t your fault, Riza.”

She was silent because she knew otherwise.

All your fault.

Roy sighed, no doubt being able to sense her train of thought. He’d always been good at that kind of thing when they were growing up.

“You had no way of knowing he’d turn like that,” Roy tried again.

“I still got him involved in all of this.” The pressure in her throat felt almost unbearable as she swallowed past it. “I enlisted his help, and this is how it ended.”

“Then you should blame me.”

Riza tore her eyes away from Alphonse’s face, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

Roy leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “The reason you had to get him involved was because I was an idiot and didn’t listen to you. So, if you really want to stretch to blame someone, blame me.”

Her mouth opened to retaliate automatically however she had no response for him.

“I don’t,” she whispered finally.

Deep down, she didn’t blame him. He hadn’t conversed with Alphonse, hadn’t vented his frustration to him which caused the young mage to begin pondering ideas and cook up a plan. That was on her.

“You should,” Roy pressed.

“Roy,” she sighed tiredly. She wasn’t going to argue with him.

“No, if you’re blaming yourself, then you have to blame me.”

“I spoke to Alphonse, you didn’t. I got him roped into this.” She paused to swallow. “You didn’t.”

“It was still because of me though.”

Riza sighed and brought her fingers to her temples, rubbing them gently to try and ease of the headache that was beginning to form. She couldn’t deal with this right now.

She jumped as a pressure suddenly appeared on her shoulder.

“He’ll pull through,” Roy reassured her. He was so close, crouched in front of her. Eyes boring into hers as if willing her to believe him, his grip tightened on her shoulder as he gave it a squeeze.

Her emotions were everywhere. The argument with Roy and feeling so angry with him, only to have felt so tired of it all when she saw him again on that battlefield. And he’d been so distraught… He thought she was dead and had been so torn up about it. He still cared about her, and vice versa, but after everything that had happened… She didn’t know where she fit in with the world they’d shared before. All she could worry about right now was if Alphonse was going to pull through, and even that was weighing heavily on her.

Seeing the piercing look in Roy’s eye and hearing the softness of his tone, feeling the comfort of his touch… Riza felt herself beginning to crumble. Her shoulders caved in as they began to shake. Eyes squeezing closed, Riza felt herself letting go.

There was movement in front of her as Roy knelt and wrapped his arms around her shaking frame as she remained in the chair. She was enveloped in warmth and a smell that she’d missed terribly for the last few weeks. It was a comfort and reminded her of home. He made her feel safe and loved.

“I just want him to be okay,” she whispered into his chest.

“I know,” he murmured. “I want him to be as well, and he will be. We just need to be patient while he balances himself out.”

“That’s not soon enough,” she muttered petulantly.

She heard a puff of air being expelled from Roy’s nose, finding her comment amusing.

“I thought the same way every time I saw you hurt and recovering in here.”

Her body tensed but if Roy noticed, he didn’t comment. He continued talking, beginning to rub circles on her back.

“I would wait in here for hours, hating myself for leaving because royal duty called me away. In those moments I wished I wasn’t the King just so I could remain by your side and watch over you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Riza squeezed her eyes closed at the familiar feeling. It was almost like old times.

But it wasn’t. Not anymore. Roy had seen to that.

“I know how you’re feeling,” he continued.

“You never mentioned anything,” Riza accused lightly.

She hadn’t been in here often. Counting back… Riza had only had three near death experiences while the King’s First Knight. He’d always visited and brought her flowers once she awoke, but she never remembered waking up with him by her side.

“It wasn’t appropriate,” Roy shrugged. “But I don’t care about any of that anymore. Not after what I did.” His tone was subdued as he finished, but the grip on her body remained. “I’m so sorry, Riza. I… I get it if you no longer want to be by my side. I just wanted to take the pressure off you, but I wasn’t very good at communicating that. I wanted us to work together, and when you brought that letter to me, I was angry.”

“Why?” That was one thing she’d been unable to figure out.

“Because I was too scared of losing you. I lost control because in my mind’s eye all I could see was you approaching the kingdom by yourself to procure this letter and that terrified me.”

“But you exiled me,” Riza shot back, pulling away from him. “You shut me out anyway. How can you say you were so scared of losing me when you cast me out of your life completely? You lost me either way.”

Roy’s hands slipped from her back to rest by the side of her thighs. She was painfully aware of their proximity to her. His fingers curled around the seat of the chair, the whites of his knuckles showing.

“I was an idiot. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I panicked. As soon as you left, it hit me, how much of a bad decision I’d made. I ran out of the castle to find you, but you were nowhere to be seen. The stable hand said you’d left on your horse, so I followed… But never found you, of course.”

Riza had no idea whether he was telling the truth, but Roy wouldn’t lie. Not to her, and she imagined he wouldn’t about this either. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was much more open and in touch with his emotions than she was. Over the years he’d expressed his emotions and vented his frustrations with her daily, so she was inclined to believe him.

“If you don’t believe me,” he smiled sadly, reading her train of thought. “You can ask the guards. They saw me.”

Riza scrutinised his expression, noting the remorse she spotted there.

“When you showed up in the court, dying of poison, it killed me to see that. I had caused that to you. You’d disappeared, and this was what had happened to you because of me.”

Silence ensued and Riza cast her mind back to that day in the hospital, a question niggling in the back of her mind that wanted to burst forth and finally be answered.

“When I was in the hospital, did you come and see me?”

“I did. I was unfortunately called away by duty while you were healing, but I had a feeling my presence wouldn’t be missed anyway. Alphonse was so angry with me.” He huffed a laugh, but his expression wasn’t amused. “I didn’t blame him.”

“Why didn’t you come back if you were so sorry about what you did?”

“When I returned, I heard you both talking. I didn’t want to intrude, but you sounded so happy with Alphonse. I’d ruined what we had for being such a colossal moron and I didn’t want to taint your new friendship with my toxic actions. That’s why I didn’t come in. I couldn’t ruin your life anymore. Then, I came back the next day, but the bed was empty. You’d disappeared again.”

“We still had work to do.”

“You were injured,” Roy retorted.

“Still. There was work to be done, and I wasn’t leaving it to anyone else to pick up the pieces and possibly get hurt.”

Roy sighed and rolled his eyes before glancing back up at her. “That certainly sounds like you,” he stated, a fond smile forming on his face. It dropped and that sadness returned to him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was unwarranted. I was so scared and again I let that run away with me again. It festered as anger, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t go behind your back to betray you, Roy,” Riza replied, casting them both back to the moment that had started it all. Now they were both calmer, it would be more productive to discuss this now.  “I did it because I was worried about you as well as doing my job.”

“And my stubbornness ruined it all, and it hurt you.” His eyes were beginning to shine in the light, still knelt in front of her. “That’s something I can’t forgive myself for.”

Riza nodded in understanding because she felt the same way about Alphonse right now.

“So,” Roy sighed in finality, sitting back on his heels and pressing his hands into his knees. “If you’re going to blame anyone for Alphonse’s condition, blame me. I’m the one who deserves it, not you.”

Riza watched as he stood tall, wincing as his stiff legs protested at the action.

A knock on the door disturbed their peace and both heads turned towards it.

“Your Highness?” the messenger stated, looking rather nervous about interrupting them. “Your presence is required in the throne room. A Lord is here to speak with you.”

Roy nodded and thanked the man. His shoulders sagged in defeat as the door closed.

“Duty calls once more,” he smiled sadly. Riza could see on his face that he didn’t want to leave, but like he said, he had a duty to the kingdom to attend to.

“Roy?”

His shoulders tensed as Riza called to his retreating form. Turning in place, there was a question on his face.

“We’re not going anywhere,” she stated, revealing her plan to remain here for a bit longer. Regardless of when Alphonse awoke, she wouldn’t let him leave until the Healers had cleared him as healthy, which would take time. She wouldn’t sneak out the castle like she’d done previously. Her job was done, after all, and she was so weary. She didn’t want to run anymore.

Roy nodded in understanding, a small but pained smile crossing his face as his hands were shoved into his pockets while he walked away. Riza was jolted with the memory of her scolding him light-heartedly about doing that. It wasn’t very becoming of a King to walk with his hands in his pockets, she’d told him. A warmth spread across her chest at the memory, remembering the roll of his eyes and his grin, along with all the other happy times she’d had here in this castle.

Talking with Roy had eased her worries somewhat, just like it had always done. While she was his closest confidant as his First Knight, he was hers too. He’d got her through so much growing up, and Riza was forever grateful to him.

Still conflicted about how to proceed, Riza sat back in her chair and ran through their conversation. There was so much to consider, but she couldn’t dismiss the fact that Roy still felt like home to her, even after everything that had happened. While he’d felt betrayed by her, she’d felt the same when he exiled her –

Riza let that thought go for now. She had Alphonse to worry about, and it wouldn’t do for her to go around in circles inside her head trying to figure everything out. For now, she’d focus on her new charge.

Sighing, Riza felt her body relax and become lighter. Her eyes drooped for a second, which she forced open so she could watch over Alphonse and not leave him alone. However, that only lasted for so long. Within ten minutes, she was asleep by Al’s bedside, finally resting after the battle and the emotional ride she’d been on in the past few weeks.