#listen ill try to do 5 chapters tomorrow

[mrs-russ]

Tehehehehhehe chapter 2 of Roommate!Keegan

words: 1.6k

reading time: 6:06

mentions of alcohol

!chapter 1!

srry for spelling errors!! wasn’t rlly proofread

pls read ch1 for context LMAO it’s not as bad as it looks i swear

i wake up to keegan entering my room, my eyes opening as i sit up. “what is it” i call out, seeing a beer in his hand. i look at the clock. “seriously, keegan? it’s 4 am.” he must’ve woken up and began drinking again.

“get up” he says, placing his beer down on my dresser as he gets closer. “i need something”

“keegan, no” i say sternly, holding back a yawn. “i’m not taking you anywhere”

“i need you to drive me to the store” he says, his voice slurred a little.

“i told you, im not taking you anywhere” i say, slightly annoyed as i pull the covers over my head, and i can feel the bed creaking as he sits down on the edge of it.

“you’ll drive me, get up” his voice is more of a demand then anything and i can feel his hand grabbing my ankle, pulling me towards him

“keegan, im not your personal driver” i say, trying to pull my leg back from him.

“come on, just drive me” he says, his hand slipping up my leg to grab my thigh. i’m not sure what he’s doing, but it’s not going to work.

“your drunk, go the fuck to bed” i say angrily, finally pulling my leg away from his grasp. “i’ve had enough of you for one day.”

he looks at me with an angry expression, his brows furrowed.

“fuck” he says, practically fuming. he leaves my room, finally leaving me alone. on the way out he slams the door behind him, making it known he’s mad. i don’t care about him, so he can be mad all he wants.

i sit up in my bed, a sigh escaping my lips as i process what just happened. other then today he’s never been physical, never even touched me once, and what he’s doing today is thanks to all the alcohol he’s been consuming, i can just hope he’s his normal self tomorrow.

i lie back down, my eyes struggling to close. i groan, thanking keegan for another sleepless night. it’s usually because of his snoring, and it’s not the cute, deep rumbling kind. it’s the high pitched shrill kind that makes me want to shove a fork in my ears. you’d think you wouldn’t be able to hear it from my room, but thankfully he’s right next to me, our beds on the same side. i can practically hear every movement on the other side of these thin walls, and it drives me crazy.

but luckily today was saturday, so i have one more day of possible rest before i have to go back to work. and then i have two things to deal with that’ll give me grey hairs in a few years. my job is nothing special, but it’s definitely nothing easy, either.

after a while on my phone i look at my clock again, the time 5:43. i didnt hear any noise in the living room since keegan left, but i did hear him angrily flop on his bed, signaling he’s probably asleep for good now.

i get up from bed, making my way out quietly and to the kitchen, making sure not to wake him. lord only knows how angry he’d get on top of everything else.

i make myself a cup of coffee with extra sugar and cream, making sure ill be up for at least another few hours. i sip my coffee as i look at the mess keegan made last night. the beer cans still haven’t been put away, there’s empty plates and chip bags everywhere, along with crumbs on the couch. i sigh to myself. this is already gonna be a long day.

i clean up his mess, putting the dishes in the washer and throwing the trash away, slightly angry that i have to clean up for a man old enough to be my uncle, but i guess it’s what i have to deal with if im living with him.

once im done i relax on the couch, lying back and propping my feet up on the coffee table. i always told keegan not to do this, but he never listened, so i guess im taking on his lazy habits.

a few hours later i wake up from a nap i unknowingly took, looking at the clock on the wall. i groan, sitting up. i shouldnt have fallen asleep for 4 hours when i have much more productive things to do, but i guess it’s my life.

i get up, my legs feeling like jello from being in the same position for so long. i walk to the fridge, getting a snack to eat as i think to myself. i hope keegan is better today, for my sake and his.

i get snapped out of my thoughts, hearing a door open behind me.

speaking of the devil.

i look at him, my eyes curios, waiting to hear his first words of the day. will it be a “sorry”? will it be a “i fucked up, i’m a horrible roommate”? probably not, i don’t know where i got that from, probably my neurons frying from lack of sleep.

the first thing i hear is a groan and a “stop looking at me like that”, my eyes immediately leaving him. gladly.

i turn back to the fridge, grabbing my snack and heading to my room. i don’t want to deal with him. i’m tired, hungry, and overall annoyed. and i don’t need him adding to that list.

i sit on my bed, my back against the wall. i don’t want to lie down, ill just fall sleep again. i’m not sure what im going to do now, i don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, i guess ill just scroll through social media.

as i’m scrolling i hear keegan retreat to his room, the shower turning on. good, i don’t want to be around him when he stinks, not that im around him a lot, anyways.

a message on my phone catches my attention, one of my friends texting me.

“hey, wanna go out tonight?” it reads, my eyes lighting up a little. i could definitely use a night out, someone to talk to about this human being i have to live with.

“sure, where we going?” i respond back, my thumbs impatiently tapping the screen as i bite my lip.

“there’s a new bar downtown charlotte. let’s go there?”

“sure, come pick me up at 9” i respond back, adding a smiley face for extra effect.

now, all i have to do is wait, and that’s gonna be one hell of a game.

i hear keegans water turning off, signaling he’s done cleaning himself for the day. my eyes continue to look at my phone as i scroll through social media. another text pops up at the top of my screen, this time from keegan.

“i forgot a towel, bring me one?” it reads, a sigh escaping my lips. i go to my bathroom and get a towel, bringing it to his bathroom and knocking on the door. “here” i say, everting my eyes as he creeks the door open, snatching the towel from me.

“not even a thanks?” i ask sarcastically, not really caring but finding it rude regardless.

“yeah, thanks” he says, his voice muffled by the door.

before i move to leave, he walks out of the bathroom, my eyes widening as i see him on display. the towel is around his waist, his jet black hair is dripping wet, and his body… i expected that he had let himself go after he left the military and everything, but damn was i kinda wrong.

i can see a scar running across his toned stomach, it’s probably not as defined as it was before, but in all honestly, it’s kinda hot. his right arm is full of a snake tattoo, wrapping from his wrist to his shoulder, and many more on his chest and left arm.

my eyes trail down his body, taking in his soaking wet appearance in full, and that’s when i realize i’ve been basically ogling at him for 30 seconds now.

“ah, sorry” i say, turning my head abruptly. i saw the smirk on his face before i faced away from him, he knows he took me by surprise.

i quickly walk back to my room. what the fuck just happened? i’ve never seen him like that, nor that smuggy smirk on his face.

i don’t know what im feeling right now, but it’s nothing that will turn out good. i don’t want to be attracted to keegan, he’s an asshole, and i don’t want to be attracted to assholes. it’s a rule i made for myself.

i sit back down on my bed, letting out a deep breath as i pick my phone back up. it’s a few hours until i have to leave. so i guess ill just continue to scroll through my phone.

i hear the tv starting back up, some sort of sitcom playing. i bring my phone closer to my face.

i dont know what to do about this revelation, but i guess ill find out, hopefully.

i look down at my phone, seeing my friend texting me again.

“so, what’s keegan like?” he asks, and i chuckle to myself, typing out a response.

“he’s a total and utter dick, and a grumpy ass. but i’m starting to think he’s not bad, he’s kinda hot, actually.”

i send it, waiting for his response as i hear the tv turning off, he’s probably going to sleep, he only got a few hours of sleep last night, after all.

i look up from my phone, seeing him walking to his room in a black form fitting tank top and grey joggers, showing off his tattoos and body.

i look away quickly as to not ogle at him again, my phone dinging with another message from my friend.

“oh i can’t wait to hear all about it tonight, girlfriend”

[dreamfyre03]

A Dragon's Love

Trigger Warnings: None

Chapter 5: A Return to King's Landing

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

Six months later

The Red Keep was bustling with activity preparing for the celebrations for Aemond’s name day, much to his dismay. Daenys knew he hated such gatherings, for although he had grown used to the whispers and snickers about his appearance, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She hated the way people would so clearly make jests about her brother’s appearance. His Valyrian features were stunning to her, and his scar gave him a dangerous handsomeness that in her opinion, should have women swooning over him. If she heard anyone speak of him in such a manner, she didn’t hesitate to put them in their place. 

She learnt a week ago from Queen Alicent that Rhaenyra and her family would be coming to King’s Landing for the celebrations, and to see their father, who had only grown more ill as time passed. 

Indeed, time had not been kind to her father, and although they never had a close relationship, in the recent months she began to visit him daily, braving the scent of sick that often lingered in his rooms, to read to him of the histories of the Valyrian ancestors. The act of kindness was lost on her brothers, who, held no love for their father, but Daenys persisted nonetheless. 

Sometimes, he would listen, and then tell her how she was as beautiful as her mother Aemma was, other times he’d think she was Rhaenyra, and sometimes, he would simply let her voice lull him into sleep. She knew her sister would probably arrive the next day, and so she was spending the day trying to calm her nerves at the prospect of seeing her again. She was walking to her chambers when she heard Alicent’s voice coming from Aegon’s rooms, shouting, as she went on about her son’s drunken exploits once again, and how Rhaenyra was coming tomorrow and he wasn’t even thinking of the family at all. A harsh slap could be heard, and Alicent left the room and a fury. Daenys sighed, and went into Aegon’s rooms, to be met with the sight of his eyes glassy with tears. His hair was tousled from both sleep and his actives the night before, and he was clearly naked as he sat wrapped in his sheets. 

She could see the red imprint of Alicent’s hand on his cheek, and she said nothing at first as she sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “Nothing is ever enough for her, is it?” He asked with a sniffle, roughly wiping any tears from his face. Daenys smoothed the skirt of her red gown and soothingly passed her hand over Aegon’s cheek, and he closed his eyes as her cool skin passed over his still stinging cheek. “She’s under immense pressure, brother. My sister’s arrival doesn’t bode well for any of us, I’m afraid. I’ve no doubt your grandsire has a scheme or two hidden up his sleeve.” 

Aegon sighed and shifted next to her, and lowered his head to let it rest on her chest, as he had done many times before. “The gods should have made Aemond the first son, not me. I wasn’t made for duty, I cannot be want they want.” He told her. She detangled his hair with her fingers, as he leaned into her, like if they were still children and Aegon had run to her for comfort after a lashing from Alicent, and she said, “Maybe. But remember there are those that love you, Aegon. Your mother does, although she has difficulty showing it. I do, as do Helaena and the children.” Thanks to Daenys, Aegon and Helaena’s relationship had improved throughout their marriage, and they had settled into a comfortable relationship as brother and sister. It wasn’t a love match, by any means, but now that they satisfied their mother and bore three beautiful children, the removal of that pressure left room for their relationship to improve. Aegon was still perturbed by her love of insects, and her strange riddles, but they loved each other in their own way. 

“Mother hates me, Grandsire only needs me as a pawn against out fucking sister, and Aemond thinks me a fool.” He confided.

“I can’t speak to your grandsire, for he is a conniving man, that much is true. Your mother and you are more similar than you might realise, and mayhaps for that very reason you struggle to get along. And Aemond might think you a fool, but you are his brother, and even if he won’t admit it, he does care.” She told him. “Maybe.” Was all he said. 

“Come now, it’s high time you got out of this bed. We can go to our hideaway, and take a break from all the madness out there, alright?” She said as she got up. He nodded, and as he got up to get ready, Daenys turned back to him and said in an amused tone, “And brother? Put on some pants. We wouldn’t want to scare those innocent maid out there, would we?” 

He finally flashed her his signature wicked smile, and replied, “Don’t be naive sister. If you stick around, I might finally show you why they always come back for more.” She laughed, shaking her head at him, and said, “As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to pass, brother," leaving him to ready himself , while she made her way to their little hidden hideaway hidden in the castle walls. 

Aemond was training in the yard with Ser Criston when he spotted his nephews, and he was surprised, he heard they would have arrived tomorrow. But nonetheless, he took great satisfaction at the scared look on Lucery’s face when he saw him, wielding his sword masterfully. He left the training yard in search of his sister, but after search high and low, he couldn’t find her. He found Helaena in her room, and asked, “Have you seen Daenys?” She shook her head. “I saw her leaving father’s room’s earlier, but I haven’t seen her since. Or Aegon, and mother’s been looking for him.” 

Aemond grimaced and left, once again checking the library, and even her chambers, which were empty. He wondered if she was avoiding seeing their sister, perhaps she heard that they arrived a day earlier and wasn’t ready to see her. Although, with Aegon gone, he prayed he hasn’t roped her into leaving the Keep, in broad daylight no less. He stopped by his rooms for a hood, and then left through the secret door in his chambers to find his way into the city, praying they hadn’t gotten far. He kept walking through the tunnels, when he heard the sound of his sister’s giggling close by. He quickened his steps and found her and Aegon, who looked surprised to see him. “Where have you been?” He huffed, in annoyance. “We’ve been in the Keep the whole time, brother.” Aegon replied. “Don’t lie, I’ve scoured the castle and you’ve seemingly disappeared. Where were you?” He repeated. 

“You better not have taken our sister to Flea Bottom, brother.” Aemond warned, and Aegon rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t, brother, don’t worry.” Daenys reassured him. “Then where were you?” He pressed.

Aegon and Daenys looked at each other, seemingly silently communicating through their eyes, before Aegon sighed and said, “Come on,” walking ahead of them, and Daenys grabbed his hand in hers and pulled him along. He watched as Aegon stopped in front of the walls of the tunnels, and bent down to lift a latch Aemond never noticed before, and the wall slid open, and Daenys pulled him in behind her, and he was suddenly in a room he had never seen before. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Daenys sighed happily, as he took in the sight of the hundreds of books that lined the walls, and the warmth of the room that, although was furnished with furniture that looked decades old, was clearly frequently used. Aegon sat on the long settee as Daenys pulled him to show him all the books, written in High Valyrian, that did in fact peak his interest. “How long have you know about this place?” He asked as he went and sat next to his brother. “Surely a bit more than five years now, I should think.” Aegon said. “Just about. It was much dustier and messier before Aegon showed to me, but thanks to me we managed to clean it up nicely.” She explained. “But you mustn’t tell a soul.” Daenys said. “Not one” Aegon concurred. Aemond felt a twinge of jealousy that Daenys shared this secret with his brother for so long, that they had something he didn’t have with her. But seeing her smile when she excitedly showed him all the priceless books on the walls, his jealousy simmered. “Please, Aemond.” Daenys looked at him with pleasing eyes, and when her familiar scent of jasmine and lilies wafted over to him, he couldn’t deny her anything. 

“Alright.” He grumbled. His siblings smiled, and Aegon relaxed next to him on the settee, and Daenys sprawled out on the ground, the calves of her legs exposed, and Aemond forced himself to pull away his stare. 

“We can’t stay here too long. Rhaenyra’s arrived.” Aemond told them. Aegon groaned in annoyance, and Daenys shot up from the ground, a mixed expression of surprise and nervousness on her face. 

“She’s here?” Daenys asked quietly.

“With her bastards in tow.” Aemond replied, to which Aegon snorted a laugh. 

Daenys slouched as she she wriggled to sit between them. “Your mother is probably livid, I suppose we should go.” Daenys said sadly. 

Aemond nodded, but none of them moved. “Maybe we can just wait here for a few minutes? Savour the calm before the storm, so to speak?” She asked them quietly. The brothers nodded, and Aemond let Daenys rest her head on his chest as she propped her feet on Aegon’s lap, truly savouring the calm before a storm bigger than any of them could foresee. 

Daenys didn’t see her sister that day, she heard from Helaena who was told by Alicent that Rhaenyra had gone with Daemon to see their father, and took her two youngest, Aegon and baby Viserys with her. She was glad, she didn’t think she was ready to see her sister, although she figured she wouldn’t have much to say to her, but even after all this time, the sting of her last words to her was still there. She sat under the Godswood reading the book Aemond got her for her name day a few months ago, about the history of dragons, and how they came to be in Old Valyria, when she heard an unfamiliar voice say, “Aunt Daenys, it’s been quite a while.” She looked up to see her nephew Jacaerys standing close by, clearly no longer the little boy she remembered. “Nephew, how lovely to see you. How you’ve grown!” She smiled, as he sat next to her on the ground. Despite her sister’s sentiments towards her, and her brothers’ and the Queens sentiments towards her nephews, she could never bring herself to harbour any ill will towards them. She knew all too well the whispers of their legitimacy, but they were her sister’s children, and they bore no fault for her sister’s shortcomings. 

“How are you enjoying King’s Landing?” She asked, setting her book aside. He laughed nervously and passed his hand through his brown hair, “I confess, although I have my memories here, it feels rather unfamiliar at times.” 

“I can only imagine. I imagine I might feel the same were I to go to Dragonstone.” She replied.

“Perhaps you might like it. I confess, it is sometimes rather cold, and windy, but it is rather nice to go down to the beach in the warmer months, sometimes you can see the unclaimed dragons flying about.” He told her. “I should like that, I think. I find it sad, sometimes, that it is our family’s ancestral seat, yet in all my life I’ve never been.” 

He smiled at her shyly, and Daenys thought he was a rather nice boy, kind, despite her brothers’ dislike of him and his siblings. “How are your siblings?” She asked as she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the beading in her rose coloured gown. “Quite well. Mother’s with child again, and I believe she might be hoping for a girl; I daresay she’d like a daughter after having four sons.” He said. “Rhaenyra is with child again?” She asked, trying to hide her surprise. She hadn’t even known. He nodded, noticing her slightly sad expression. “I know you and my mother haven’t had the best relationship, aunt, but I do hope that will not impact how you see me or my siblings? I know my uncles have no kind word to send my way, but I hope you do not mirror their sentiments.” He revealed. 

She gave him a kind smile, and lightly touched his hand and said, “My brothers have their reasons, but I am not as harsh as they might be, unless justly prompted. There is much strife between our families, and I do not wish to deepen it by mistreating you or your siblings.” 

“Thank you, Aunt, I am grateful.” He returned her smile. “Please, call me Daenys.”

“Very well, Daenys.” They spent a while talking, and laughing, mostly about their dragons, until a tall figure loomed over them, blocking the sunlight, drawing their attention.

Aemond stood there, glaring at Jace, and said coldly, “Sister, Helaena needs your help with the children.” 

She nodded, and took his offered hand to get to her feet, eyeing the glares exchanged between him and Jace, who traded his easygoing expression for a stone faced one of intolerance. 

“It was lovely speaking to you, Daenys. Give my Aunt Helaena my warmest regards.” He said, as Aemond took her arm in his, and before she could finish bid him goodbye, he turned them both and walked them away.

“That was a bit rude, brother,” She said breathlessly, trying to keep up the brisk pace Aemond had set for them. 

“Rude only scratches the surface of what I wanted to do to that Strong bastard. You mustn’t trust him, Daenys. He has no care for any of us, and despises us as much as we despise them.” He told her. “I don’t despise anyone! I do believe his brother should have been punished for what he did to you, just as I believe my sister as taken advantage of our father’s kindness to escape consequences for her actions, but I do not hate them.” She whisper shouted at him as they passed some courtiers in the halls. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t look out for you like I would, or even Aegon. You mustn’t let your guard down. You don’t know what their ulterior motives are. He is his mother’s son, don’t forget it.” He warned her. “I know. I will be careful, I promise. But he is our family, as they all are, and I won’t be uncivil.” She replied. He sighed and stopped them to look at her with a slightly softened expression. “I just don’t trust them. Rhaenyra’s feelings towards you are quite clear, worse now that she thinks you’re politically aligned with my mother and grandsire.” 

“But I’m not, I couldn’t care less about your mother and grandsire’s politicking, you know that.” 

“I know. I simply wish no harm come to you,” he said quietly, brushing her hair out of her face with a gentle touch. The gesture created an unfamiliar warm sensation in her stomach, and she felt her face get hot. “I know. I will be fine, brother, worry not. In any case, I’ve you to protect me, don’t I?” She teased, eager to change the tone of their conversation and get rid of this new feeling that took over her. He let a small smile slip past his lips. “Always, sister. You are mine to protect.” He said as they resumed walking to Helaena’s rooms. As they did, she couldn’t help but think there was a deeper meaning to what he said than he let on. 

[someone-elsa]

(part 4 of 5)

🔙 Chapter beginning ⬅ Part 3 • Part 5 ➡ 📝 About the story and characters

"I can't listen to his blabbering sober either," Wade chuckled dryly and shuddered. "And I can drink only so much of those fancy wines and gimmicky craft beers. I need something stronger…"   River snorted with laughter.   "Pour for me whatever you take," he said.

But River didn't pour anything.   "What's the matter?" Wade asked.   River sighed. "I can't open the bottle."

"What? What do you mean?"   "I can't open the bottle because my hands are weak and shaky."

Wade stared her, trying to process what he had heard.   "Do you mean…"   River shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. Or maybe my blood sugar's too low—"

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Wade shrieked. It wasn't very him to raise his voice but he was drunk and this topic made him emotional. Everyone turned to look, and he lowered his voice but still sounded angry. "You have been to a doctor, right?"   "Nope."   "Can you keep it down?" Harrison asked and snorted.

"What? Well you'll have to schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow!"   "What's the point?" River muttered.   That made Wade see red. "You'll have to take this seriously or you'll end up like mom!"

Paige had walked to them. "What's going on?" She asked.   The others tried to look like they weren't eavesdropping.   "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass," Wade said. "Let me guess. You haven't told her either? River's being a fucking moron, that's what is happening. So some twenty years ago, our mom was diagnosed with Langerak's disease. She was around the same age as River now…"

He told Paige about the disease and how it made the person gradually lose ability to move. Eileen Stacks had been a talented dancer and it had been her whole life, so being diagnosed with such a disease had been hard for her.

Back then, there hadn't been much to be done, doctors could only prescribe painkillers and hope for the best. Before it had been too late, Eileen had tried to end her life on her own terms but she hadn't succeeded. However, the attempt had damaged her brain and since then she had barely communicated with other people and mostly stared into the void.

Paige was speechless. River had told Paige that she had distant relationship with her mother and nothing else.   "There isn't a cure yet and maybe never will be, but now, there are ways to slow down the illness' progression. The earlier they are started, more effective they are. And River here is being A FUCKING IDIOT and doing nothing. Tell her, Paige, maybe she listens to you better than me."

"River, you know he's right," Paige pleaded.   River groaned.

[mrsaguapapi]

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Chapter 5

Royal Introductions

Exhausted, I lay there, eyes closed, not wanting to move. I'm this close to dozing off before Marc leans in and kisses my neck, "You should use the bathroom before you fall asleep."

"No"

"You could get a UTI."

"Nothing magic can't fix" Without opening my eyes I wave my hand around like a wand, "Goodbye, UTI "

He quietly chuckles, "You're a comedian you know that?" He scoops me up and takes me to the bathroom, "Don't expect me to wipe for you" He drops me down and closes the door behind me.

Once I was done, I wash my hands and look in the mirror. My makeup is a hot ass mess; too embarrassed, I decided to take a shower to wash away my mess. I hear a small knock on the door.

"Come in" I reply

"Hey love, mind if we join?" by the happy tone of his voice it was Steven.

"Yes on one condition. Can you wash my hair" I ask

"I've literally always wanted to do this" He laughs. Steven sneaks in behind me and begins to shampoo my hair. He thoroughly massaged my scalp and ran soap from my roots to the end of my hair.

This is so comforting.

I don't allow many people to touch my hair. Honestly, Aunt May and Bucky were the only ones to wash my hair before this. May's gone and Bucky checked out.

Ughhh I don't want to see him tomorrow

Refocusing on my anxious thoughts, I realize Steven is unusually quiet, "What's on your mind hun"

Steven hesitates

I turn around and rest my arms around his neck and look him in the eyes, "You can tell me" I smile.

"I used to wash Layla's hair like this." he sadly responds, "I'm sorry, probably don't want to hear about our ex right after sex" he nervously laughs.

Leaning my head on his chest I sigh, "I'm hung up on my ex too; no need to protect my feelings hun, we all went into this agreement with no intentions of a relationship. Just a couple of broken people with needs" I joke. "But seriously you can talk about anything with me. When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"A few months. The last time we spoke, we fought. She said she hated us and left."

"I seriously doubt she means that. She was very upset and probably felt outnumbered by you 3. Want my advice?"

"Always"

"Reach out and ask to talk. Listen to her, don't interrupt, just let her get it out. Remember, Listen to understand not Respond. Marc and Jake, I'm talking to you."

"They say they resent that" he laughs. "Thank you, Millie"

"Of course"

We eventually get out, dry off, and head to bed. They fall asleep first and I lay there in their arms lost in thought.

I really do hope they fix it with Layla. I would be lying if I said I don't feel anything for them; It would be nice to end up with them but it could never work; they age, and I don't. How am I to have a normal life when I can't even grow old with someone? I refuse to let myself love someone ill have to eventually bury. I did try with Bucky though, I even looked into giving up my immortality for him.

Wasn't enough I guess

I push those thoughts out of my head for now and allow myself to sleep.

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

The boys gift me a t-shirt and a pair of their favorite sweats as a replacement for the dress Jake ripped.

"Don't be a stranger, and reach out to Layla. Sooner rather than later okay?" with that, I give them a parting hug and kiss before I portal home.

Finally home I let out a long sigh and do a full-body stretch.

"Hey, you're home!" Peter yells before he runs to hug me, he looks down at my clothes and gives me a puzzled look, "what happened to your dress?

"Don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to."

He deadpans and walks backward, "You need church, a baptism, shit maybe an exorcism too"

I laugh, "What I need is a shower" The boys and I had an early morning; we fucked twice, 3 times if you count them eating me out before we got interrupted by their landlord.

I go take a quick shower and wash off last night/this morning's sex-scapades. Once again I do my makeup; nothing extravagant just something natural to highlight my features. After my face is done I check my hair and fix my edges.

I finally dress in my formal battle attire; a black leather high low tunic dress with gold accents as well as a white and gold shoulder cape I break out for special occasions like this. It's giving 'Game of Thrones meets Castlevania'. All jokes aside my uniform is interesting.

I found it tucked away in the Kamar Taj one day and when I touched it I felt strange. There was an old ancient energy about it so I decided to leave it there. But for a week straight I found it in places that it shouldn't be. One day I even buried it, and then the next day I woke up with it at the foot of my bed, dirt and all. I finally took it to Wong and he informed me that it was a magical relic and essentially chose me as its owner.

Reference:

Artwork by Me (Super rough drawing that I finished at 2am; just trying to give you a general idea) 

'The Regalia of Rowena'; the original owner was Rowena Hemlocke an infamous witch who tried to harness the sun's power. Legend says it almost worked, but she couldn't handle the heat and disintegrated in a matter of seconds; all that remained was her clothes. Some would say that's a red flag but my toxic trait is that it picked me, so obviously it's true love.

Hehe

Finally, all done, I look over myself and I honestly feel beautiful. Not sexy or hot, but beautiful; It feels really good. I grab my suitcase and meet peter in the living room. Peter is dressed in a simple black suit, his Spidey suit isn't necessarily formal.

"You have everything you need? All the essentials? All your chargers? Your suit just in case?"

"Yes, yes, yes & Yes. You look intense; like I am kind of intimidated by both your beauty and power. Is this a slay?"

"Yes, Peter this is a slay" I laugh hysterically "Come on let's go, can't leave a Queen waiting" I open a portal.

The Vibe: 

Otis Redding - Try A Little Tenderness

We step through and find ourselves outside of the Royal Palace. Immediately the royal staff took our bags to our rooms.

"This place is remarkable," Peter says in awe. "Just insane"

"I know right? You are gonna love Shuri's lab."

"Oh, I bet. I'm gonna walk around okay?"

"Okay, don't go far doors open any minute" Peter nods and walks away; I take a look around and see who else is here. No one I know, just a bunch of Wakandan leaders and noblemen. I think we are the only outsiders invited.

Spoke to Soon

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. I almost forgot he was coming. He's wearing black slacks and a dark blue sweater with a black coat over it. Doesn't sound like much, but Bucky is a simple man, I'm honestly surprised he's not in his signature leather jacket.

He cut his hair, It looks good

Staring and lost in thought I didn't notice him staring back. He sheepishly smiles at me, I quickly look away too embarrassed and sad. All the old unresolved emotions hit me like a car crash, I start to get anxious and nauseous. Around me, the air started to cool and the wind picked up rapidly;. the clouds begin to darken. The people around mutter in confusion; I can't breathe, I can't move, I can't speak.

Suddenly a comforting hand touches my shoulder. Shaking and on the verge of tears, I look and see who it was, Namor.

"Walker of Clouds indeed, I see you truly are a descendent of Ororo." He calmly speaks "Breathe." he pauses "It'll pass"

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, after a few seconds everything around me slowly calms. It passed, I put my hand on my heart and breath for a few more beats, before I open my eyes. "Thank you" I softly say

So maybe I can control the weather...

He nods, "Are you okay Ki'ichpan (beautiful girl)?"

"I'm getting there." I chuckle. Namor was wearing his normal royal jewelry in addition to golden shoulder plates, kind of like armor; attached were red and white robes that flowed nicely in the wind. "I didn't think you would come. Also, we gotta talk about this 'Ki'ichpan' business. Can't keep casually calling me beautiful in all of our conversations"

"I almost didn't. My people advised against me being here but if we are to work with the Wakandans, it must be done. If anything happens my people are near." he leans into my ear, "I will call you beautiful because you are." The hand he has on my shoulder sneaks down to my lower back. "This is a lovely dress you're wearing. You look very," he pauses, "commanding"

Nervously I laugh, "You are one hell of a sweet talker," I look him dead in the eye, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

He deviously smiles.

I think he took that as a challenge.

Before he responds Peter returns, "uhhh" Peter looks at Namor's hand placement "Everything good here?"

"Yes, Peter everything is fine, just talking to a friend."

Without even acknowledging Peter, he looks at me, "Is this your Twin Flame Ki'ichpan?" he asks with a hint of frustration.

Is he angry?

"Ew" Peter and I say in tandem.

"This is my brother, Peter. Peter this King Namor ruler of..." I look at Namor for Help

Namor hesitates to respond, "Peter can keep a secret as easily as breathing air. You can trust him. All of us here are allies, you have my word" I assure

"Talokan. Ruler of Talokan" Namor Responds

"Well, it's great to meet you Namo- Mr. Namor sir. I mean King" Peter fumbles

"Namor is fine" he smiles

Before we could continue with introductions the doors to the palace open and we all file in, one by one. As we walk through, the announcers introduce us one by one. He gets to Namor,

"Introducing for the first time ever, King Namor ruler of Underwater Kingdom Talokan" Namor Bows and Walks away.

"UNDERWATER?" Peter whispered and yelled.

"So amazing," I say in awe

It was our turn to be announced, "Welcome Millaenyia Parker, primordial earth witch, master of the elements, And her brother Peter Parker, Spiderman, protector of New York " he pauses "One of the many heroes of the Batlle of Earth"

Peter and I bow and continue forward.

"They remember me?" Peter whispers

"Unfortunately no, but did you think I'd let them announce you as just a plus one" I reply

"Thank you" he smiles

"Of course" I respond

"Alrighty let's get through the night without embarrassing ourselves," Peter says

"No Promises" I nervously smile

Let the show begin 

[sassykattery]

Dissolution of the Fire, Pt. 5

Welcome to Part 5 of this chapter.

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is human, MC is nonpoly. Arguing. Emotional abuse.

Warning: signs and depictions of emotional abuse within the confines of an intimate relationship. If this is triggering, do not read. Read at your own risk.

Themes: LuciferxMC, romance, relationships

Characters: Lucifer, MC="you", Diavolo, Mammon, all brothers implied, Barbatos

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

----

The next morning you woke up on Mammon's couch, and you looked over to see him still sleeping on his bed. You smiled, silently thanking him for letting you sleep, and so you went to your bedroom to get ready for the day. After getting dressed, you saw the time and realized it was still a little early, so you dropped by Lucifer's bedroom. The light was on, so you knocked, figuring he was getting ready as well. But he never answered, and when you tried the knob, it was locked.

Confused, and a little disappointed, you instead went down to breakfast. It proceeded as normal, except that the eldest still didn't make his appearance, which concerned you. Ready to go, you and Mammon talked about the movie you watched, albeit only part of the way through, and walked to RAD together. In the back of your mind, you wondered about Lucifer, but decided to just wait and see what happened with him as the day progressed.

There was a Student Council meeting after class, and you were invited to sit in. When you arrived, everyone else was also just showing up, and when you saw Lucifer, he had the most painfully neutral expression on his face. He refused to look at you, causing your brows to furrow at his odd behavior. Normally, he had a small smile for you when no one was looking, or he'd be sure to brush his hand against yours as you all got settled. But today, there was nothing, not even a flicker of adoration for you.

Diavolo started the meeting, and you tried your best to put your usual face back on. You listened carefully, taking down notes for the prince, and tried to just act as normal as possible. Everyone was aware of Lucifer's sour mood, but for the most part everyone participated like they normally would.

From Mammon's perspective, he was very watchful of the eldest. He kept glancing between the two of you, seeing how icy Lucifer was and how warm you were. He realized that you probably didn't know what was wrong yet, and he was getting more and more anxious as the meeting drug on to know what would happen.

The Demon Lord also took note of Lucifer's behavior that day. In the last few weeks, Diavolo had seen Lucifer really relax and seem happy for the first time in a long time, and it wasn't hard to guess why when almost every day he came to RAD smelling heavily of you. Today, Lucifer was short and ill-tempered with pretty much everyone but Diavolo himself. But when Diavolo looked over at you, you seemed fine. Your face was still bright and cheerful, so he was rather curious as to what the problem was.

By the time the meeting was over, Diavolo had mentally devised his plan and worked to execute it. Before you could leave, he approached you.

"Ah! MC, I wanted to talk with you," he stated, warm as always.

You smiled up at him, "Yes?"

"I have a meeting with Lucifer at the castle in an hour, and I have some free time afterward, and would like to play chess with you. Would you be interested in joining us?" he offered.

Not letting your face falter in the least even at the sound of his name, you nodded. "I would love nothing more. I'll see you later, and I'll have these meeting notes ready for you tomorrow," you added.

"Excellent, I'll see you then," Diavolo stated.

As you left, Diavolo instantly looked to his right-hand demon, and watched as Lucifer's harsh gaze followed your form.

Hmm, interesting, Diavolo thought.

-

You went about the rest of your day, constantly trying to keep busy to forget what was really bothering you. It was starting to wear on you to see Lucifer be so cold, but you weren't going to let it show. Quickly, you put your things into your locker and made your way to the castle, alone.

Barbatos welcomed you in and offered to make you a cup of tea. You graciously accepted, and he escorted you to Diavolo's office. Diavolo was sitting at his desk, but Lucifer hadn't arrived yet. It was just how the prince wanted it to happen, because he was trying to work out exactly what was happening without being obvious.

"Ah, MC, come on in. Lucifer hasn't arrived just yet, but we can chat while we wait. I'm sure he'll be here shortly," Diavolo stated, putting his papers away to turn his attention to you. You still seemed okay, and he focused very intently on you to try and pick up on any clues you might give.

"Thank you for inviting me again. I hope both of you don't mind me being here for your meeting. I feel like I'm intruding," you stated.

"Not at all, MC!" Diavolo chirped. "So, how has your day been? Anything good or exciting happen?"

You smiled earnestly and replied rather sweetly, "I would say being invited to play chess with you has been the most exciting thing so far, Diavolo."

Lucifer heard your response on the other side of the door and then finally knocked. The prince called for entry and the eldest brother strode in. You kept your gaze trained on Diavolo's desk, not wanting to raise suspicion, because if you looked at Lucifer, you knew your façade would crack.

Sitting back, you listened to the two have their meeting, but very quickly you tuned them both out in favor of just staring a hole through the corner of the desk you were closest to. You tried so hard to think about what you could have done to upset Lucifer so, but you continued to draw blanks. It was a good hour and a half before Diavolo tried to catch your attention again,

"MC?" he said.

You finally looked up, and both demons were looking at you. "My apologies, I was deep in thought. Yes?" you said as eloquently as you could.

"I was just mentioning to Lucifer that you might be a good candidate to help with another project I'm wanting to start, what do you think?" Diavolo inquired.

"I would be more than happy to," you replied with a soft smile. The prince was satisfied with your answer, and Lucifer stood to leave. Just as Lucifer started to turn, his gaze caught yours, and there was a brief moment of invisible electricity between you two, one that Diavolo could clearly see as well. Quickly, Lucifer left you two alone, and you stared at the floor.

"Ready to play some chess, MC? Or would you rather do something else while you're here?" Diavolo offered. He certainly didn't mind simply hanging out with you, but he was slowly piecing together what had probably happened. Lucifer was indeed upset about something involving you, but you didn't know what, and you were choosing to remain calm and put your cheerful mask on. And neither of you smelled strongly of the other, in fact, Diavolo could tell you had actually been near Mammon, another piece of the puzzle to consider.

"I wouldn't mind playing chess, or we could do whatever you'd like, Diavolo. I'm here to hang out with you, and I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever it is we choose to do," you replied softly.

How admirable, he thought. In the face of clear upset, she chooses to remain calm and collected. I can't say that I mind that in a person, it's certainly a good quality to have, especially in my own position. Curious little human indeed.

"Ah, well, Levi loaned me a game, and I'm having a hard time beating a level, would you be interested in playing with me?" Diavolo offered with an excited smile. You chuckled and nodded.

"I'd be happy to," you replied.

-

You dreaded going home after a fun-filled afternoon with the prince, knowing what would await you. But you also knew you would have to face the music eventually. It was dinner time, so you just grabbed your plate and ate in your room, tired of not being able to even be near Lucifer without wanting to cry. You barely touched your food and just discarded of everything, washed the plate, and went straight back to your room.

After changing into a sleep shirt, you turned off the light and went to bed, trying to find comfort in the cool sheets. It wasn't long until you drifted off, feeling mentally worn from having the mask on, trying to keep people from really seeing how you felt.

Several hours went by, it was late, and you thought you were dreaming of someone's arms under you, but you barely opened your eyes to find yourself being placed into someone else's bed, instantly recognizing the silk sheets and familiar scent. The demon slipped in after you and held you from behind. Warm tears spilled over your cheeks, and you let out a light sob. He shushed you, holding you tighter against his torso. You rolled around, now facing Lucifer, and buried your face in his chest, needing to feel his body for your comfort.

No words were exchanged, but you felt as though, maybe there didn't need to be any. If he had already forgiven you, for whatever you did, and it meant you were back in his embrace, you were fine with it.

Though, that was just the start of the problems that later unfolded.

-

"Ugh, Lucifer!" you said as he pushed you up against a wall in his office, his hands under your shirt. He pushed his lips into yours and pinned you against the wall with his body.

"You said that you're mine," Lucifer groaned in your ear after breaking the kiss.

"I am yours, darling, but what is going on?" you said indignantly. He tried to kiss you again, but you turned your head away, much to his frustration. Keeping your head turned, you continued, "I was just tutoring some demons and Beel in potions, why are you so upset?"

"Do you not see the way they look at you? You're like a meal to them, served on a silver platter," Lucifer hissed, his brows now furrowed.

"That's their problem, not mine!" you retorted, your own patience running thin.

"It's your problem when they try to touch you and pull you onto their laps like I just saw," he stated, getting louder.

You huffed, feeling rage boiling inside of you now. "That literally did not happen. One of them was reaching around me for a pen they dropped on the floor!"

"Hmph," is all he said, disagreeing with you.

Your frustration had peaked, and it was only made worse by not being allowed to move at your leisure, "You know what? You say I'm yours, but you haven't even taken me out on a date, we haven't even talked about being official. I'm starting to feel like your little sex toy and nothing more," you spat venomously, tinges of green cornering your eyes.

Lucifer's brows shot up in surprise at your sudden outburst. His gaze softened now, and he eased up on you, releasing you from the wall. Standing at full height, you crossed your arms and stared him down with your neck craned to see his face. But you saw this going nowhere, so you started to leave when he called to you,

"I'm sorry MC."

It caused you to come to a dead stop. He sounded sincere, but more so, he sounded remorseful. You turned to him, staring at him with tears in your eyes.

"You're not a sex toy to me. I cherish you deeply, and I'm sorry I made you think otherwise," Lucifer said, looking right into your eyes as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to you and stopped right in front of you. With gentleness, he took your hand in his and stared at it.

Tears welled up in your eyes, tired from the frustration. This was the third argument that week, and it was only Tuesday.

"Darling," he murmured, wiping your tears away. "Please forgive me," he asked.

-

"Lucifer," you purred, coming around behind his desk and his chair, your hands found purchase on his shoulders. You were in a playful mood, and he was working late, so you wanted to see if you could pry him away to go to bed with you. You placed a tender kiss on his temple, and then dropped to his ear and said, "Come to bed, it's late."

"I'm afraid this can't wait," he said neutrally.

"Can I perhaps persuade you to take a break then?" you asked, trying to compromise.

"Go to bed, I'll be there soon," he replied.

"But–"

"Stop pestering me. I said I'll be there soon," he hissed.

You frowned and pulled your hands away sharply. Without another word, you went to bed, as told, but to yours instead. However, he didn't come to bed for three more hours, and when he found his to be empty, he grew even more frustrated.

-

This went on for several weeks. If you made him jealous, he had all the time in the world for you, and you two would be fine for a couple days, and then he would become preoccupied with his work again, and your bids for comfort or intimacy fell on deaf ears.

You were having a particularly rough day, between not speaking to Lucifer again, or rather, he wasn't speaking to you, and the brothers had started a rather gruesome fight at the dining table during breakfast, resulting in all of you having to clean it up. Diavolo had invited you to the castle for tea and chess, much to your relief.

It was a rather tantalizing game with the prince, at some points it could have been clear one of you were the winner, however, you two were heading towards another stalemate. Then, Diavolo made a critically bad move, and you were able to sweep in for the win. You smiled brightly, saying,

"Checkmate," and then held out your hand. Diavolo graciously accepted your hand, and just for a moment too long, held it there. Both of you felt twinges of electricity and heat in that moment. Quickly, you pulled away and smiled again.

"Thank you for the game, Diavolo. I needed that," you said.

Over the course of the last two weeks, your visits to the castle became more frequent as Diavolo needed you to finalize some of the policy work he had you working on. In this time, Diavolo had become close with you, giving you more sideways glances as you walked around his office, watching you move. He thoroughly enjoyed your company; working together on this project has made him see you in a new light, one with which was starting to be romantic.

And right now, he could see just the slightest tinge of sadness and exhaustion in your eyes, so he finally asked,

"Would you stay for dinner?"

You thought about it for a moment before nodding eagerly, "I'd like that, thank you."

He was excited and immediately texted Barbatos to add another plate to the table for you, to which when Barbatos read it, he raised an eyebrow.

Barbatos was more than aware of the entire situation with Lucifer and yourself. He saw it in your future once, and because he was never ordered to see into it, he had to remain silent about it. He would wait until the right moment to talk with his young master about it. Barbatos was also aware of Diavolo's newest infatuation with you. Truthfully, he knew Diavolo was enchanted by you from the moment you arrived in the Devildom, but now, anytime the prince had the chance, he was talking to Barbatos about you, so it wasn't hard to figure out.

"I'm glad you'll be joining us. We'll be most excited to finally have a third," he said, beaming.

You nodded with a small smile, staring down at the chess board.

"Is... something troubling you, MC?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Could I ask something of you?"

"Certainly, anything for you," Diavolo replied, truly meaning his words, wondering if you would pick up on it.

You did. The weight of his words settled on your shoulders.

"Can I have a hug?" you asked in a small voice. Your eyes finally flickered up to the prince's, only to be met with a softened gaze and a charming smile.

"Why, MC, of course," he replied with a low, smooth voice.

Just as he sat on the edge of his chair to stand, you stood from your seat and came around the chess table, stood in between his legs, and hugged him while he was still sitting. Your arms looped around his neck, and his mouth landed into your collarbone. He was a bit surprised, but he figured he could just be whatever you needed him to be in the moment. Carefully, he let his arms wrap around your waist, trying to be respectful. Though, he was fighting with himself as he felt your heartbeat against his throat and chest as it thrummed throughout your body, and it certainly didn't help with your breasts pushing into him. He savored your warmth, and it hit him like a bullet, your sweet intoxicating scent. He found himself breathing you in deeply.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, and Diavolo refused to move first, not knowing how long you might have needed this. He certainly didn't want it to end, so why do so prematurely?

Finally, you stepped back, there was a flush of heat tinged across your cheeks.

"Thank you for indulging me, I appreciate it," you said softly.

"I'll indulge you anytime you like, MC," Diavolo replied. He tilted his head again, "Is... there something I can help you with? Something bothering you?"

"No... I don't believe you can," you answered honestly.

Diavolo looked you over, "Well, if your answer changes, please inform me if I can assist you. You know I will," he insisted.

Barbatos was about to knock on the door when he saw you standing rather close to the young lord, in between his legs and looking down at him. Barbatos had no issue hiding the smile that wanted to dance on his lips. He could see it in his master that he was enjoying the moment with you. But, dinner was ready, so he knocked.

You quickly stepped back and turned around at the sound.

"Dinner is ready, my lord, MC," he said. You gave a shy smile as Diavolo stood, gesturing for you to follow the butler.

----

Thank you for reading <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Masterlist

Tags:

@leavesandflowers @delphi-dreamin @obeymediasimp @frozengoldie @itsmeninerz

[angel-deux-writes]

Honor Compels Me

When Brienne is sent to Riverrun to speak with the Blackfish, she finds herself with another Stark to protect. For the oaths she swore to his mother, she will see Robb Stark safely home. Even if it means standing against Jaime Lannister to do it.

Cersei III

You know, sometimes in life we face adversity with a strength of spirit and an iron will, and sometimes in life we receive a few mean comments, crawl into a hole for a month, decide to panic-post five chapters a day to finish this story faster, play Animal Crossing for 5 hours instead of editing said chapters, and then decide to post a single chapter because it’s better than nothing.

[whentommymetalfie]

Home to you -chapter 18

-Fading-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Tommy is spiraling. 

Warnings: mental instability, forced hospitalization, period typical attitudes towards mental illness, hallucination, sickness, nightmares, PTSD, mental breakdown

Wordcount: 1,5 K

Alfie needs to hurry. He can’t hang on much longer. He feels it suddenly. In a strange moment of clarity. That he’s fading a bit more each day. Each hour.

The shadows come with the food and the water. He only manages one bite today. He promises himself he’ll eat more tomorrow. He needs to eat. Alfie will be proud of him. When he gets here. That he did so good and ate even if he wasn’t hungry.

…

He can’t eat today. But he drinks the water, all of it, before the exhaustion becomes too much. He doesn’t even make it back to the corner before he collapses

Tomorrow

tomorrow he’ll try harder.

…

“The patient has stopped eating, it would seem.”

“He didn’t eat much to begin with.”

“Perhaps we need to consider a feeding tube?”

“We’ll give him a few days to adjust to the medication. But then, yes, we might have to.”

…

He can’t make it to the water

can’t move at all today.

If he rests maybe he can drink later?

“Tommy?”

He hums in response to the voice.

“How’re you holding up over there?”  

He makes a sound at least, to show that he’s listening. It’s nice to have company.

“You’ve got to start eating,” the voice says. “Or they’ll shove a tube down your throat. Very unpleasant.”

He hums again. Yes, he knows that, but he’s tired, very tired. Very tired. And the pain in his leg makes it so hard to move. It feels strangely hot and pulsating, despite the chill in the cell.

Why is it hurting?

“It’s not so bad, the food, once you get used to it. Or maybe it’s just when you’ve forgotten what real food tastes like.”

The voice laughs. It’s a hollow, joyless sound.

…

What if Alfie doesn’t find him?

He’ll try. But he might not succeed. Tommy tries to will away the thought. But it’s becoming a recurring kind. And it feels like standing on the edge of an abyss. The thought that this will be it, that he’ll be here forever.

Where’s here?

Whenever the thought comes he hears himself make pained noises through his teeth. But it’s not true.

Alfie will find him.

Won’t he?

…

A high fever slowly wraps him in a vice like grip. His head aches and he freezes and sweats and shakes. He throws up what little water he’s managed to drink, until there’s nothing left in him.

If the shadows notice they don’t do anything about it.

If they don’t help him he’s going to die. The realisation feels like a relief. At first. But if he dies he can’t be with Alfie. And he wants to be with Alfie.

When he hears the sound of the door opening, he forces his numb face to move, make his mouth form words.  

“Fever.”

The shadow puts the bowl down onto the floor. He tries to move, to get their attention. Tries to be louder when he says, “ ‘ve a- a fever.”

The dark figure ignores him, turns and disappears as quickly as it came. He curls up in his corner again.

“Are you sick?” the voice asks him.

“Fever,” he repeats through chattering teeth.

“Right. Is it bad? Don’t want to lose the only company I’ve had in fucking ages.”

The voice is quiet for a long time when he doesn’t answer.

“You need a doctor, love,” Alfie tells him. And he wishes he could see him. They’re all here except him. Crowding the small cell. Standing outside the metal bars.

“ need help,” he tells the voice. “A doctor.”

“None of those here, I’m afraid. Not anyone who’ll help, at least.”

He’s slipping away again. Always starts with the pain in his leg fading.

Why does it hurt?

“Supposedly there’s an infirmary. But they don’t take people like us there. Too much of a risk, I reckon. Though I once heard of someone who-”

The voice lulls him to sleep.

…

“You need to hold on, love,” Alfie says. He’s sat right next to him. If Tommy could move he’d lay his head in his lap

“ ‘m trying,” he whispers.

But if Alfie were really here he’d already have pulled him into his lap. He would’ve held him and taken him away from this awful place.

“I know, I know. And you’re doing so good.”

He looks up at Alfie.

“Why aren’t you here?”

“I am, sweetheart.”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, no you’re not. ‘s just-“ he can’t keep his eyes open. “ ‘s just in my head. You’re not here.”

“ ‘course I am. Never lie to you about a thing like that, would I?”

He bites back a sob and curls into himself.

“Hey, Tommy, once you start talking to them it’s all down hill.”

Lizzie?

No, it’s not her voice. And she’s stood outside of the bars, silently watching.

It’s that other voice

Right

Shouldn’t talk to them, Alfie isn’t really here.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

“It’s just us here. And whoever this Alfie fellow is I wouldn’t hope for too much-“

“Stop,” he begs it.

“Don’t listen to him, Tommy, of course I’m here. Think I know that better than him, don’t I?”

Yes he knows that he needs to listen to Alfie, but Alfie isn’t here, why isn’t he here, why hasn’t he found him yet?

“So you’ve got to just accept it. Sooner you do that the better.”

He pushes his head against the wall. The firm pressure does nothing to ground him. Nothing is enough.

“Suppose some are let out of here. But not people like us. Not when they’ve put you in this corridor. And this Alfie, whoever he is, isn’t getting you out of here either.”

“Stop!” his own voice startles him. The volume of it. “Stop, you- you don’t know-“ he’s sobbing. And he doesn’t understand how there can be more tears left. But there are and they fall in hot trails down his cheeks as he cries and cries until it feels like his ribs will shatter

The voice begins apologizing, yells at him when that doesn’t help, that he needs to stop

Stop what?

Eventually the shadows come with a syringe and the drug rushes through his system and he falls into darkness again.

…

The voice doesn’t talk to him anymore, and he doesn’t speak to it. Doesn’t want to hear what it has to say. The shadows come and go with the food he can’t eat and the water he can’t drink. They don’t speak either. Only the others do. They’re never quiet. Filling the room with endless chatter. But he can’t distinguish any words.

He calls out for the voice when he finally can’t bear it. It doesn’t answer.

He tries again, louder this time.

But there’s no answer.

He wonders where it’s gone.

…

If he stops thinking about each in and exhale,

will he simply stop breathing?

Feels like he might. His pulse has gone

so slow and

faint that he

only feels it as

tremors against his ribcage

but his heart seems to remember to beat, if only barely. He keeps breathing. He wants to keep breathing. Alfie will find him.

he will

in,

he will,

out,

he will,

in-

…

He wakes at the feeling of gentle fingers in his hair. When he opens his eyes, Alfie is leaning over him. Strong, familiar arms pull him away from the cold floor

“I’ve got you now, love, it’s alright. You’re safe.”

He buries his face in Alfie’s neck and cries, exhausted tears. The sheer relief bursts as teary laughter from his chest.

“I knew you’d come.”  

“Of course, treacle. Of course I did. I promised, didn’t I?”

Alfie kisses his forehead. Rocks him back and forth. And he’s warm and he’s safe and everything will be okay now.

Until he’s suddenly gone. Tommy finds himself alone in the dark. He sits up and looks around, slumping against the wall as his feverish limbs give in.  

He sinks back onto the floor.

Then someone is screaming. He wishes it’d stop it’s terribly loud and he wants to sleep. He’s very tired. Wants to sleep and sleep and sleep. The cries grow louder and louder but he can’t cover his ears.

The darkness comes on its own this time. Without the sting of the needle.

…

Breathing is becoming difficult. Even the slow, shallow thuds of his heartbeat against his ribcage seem like they take effort. At least his leg doesn’t hurt so much anymore. That’s nice. If only it were a bit warmer. But it’s cold here underneath the ground where the sun can’t reach

Why does his leg hurt? He injured it somehow but everything around him is soft so he doesn’t understand how

it happened

The dirt makes it difficult to breathe. The sheer weight of it over his chest stops the air from reaching his lungs

“It’s alright, Tommy,” Grace says. “You can let go now.”

He wants to

But he shouldn’t listen

Why shouldn’t he listen?

There’s someone else he needs to remember someone above ground someone before all this darkness

But it’s hard to remember much at all

Hard to even remember to breathe

…

[rivers-rambles21]

The one where Bucky sets the record straight

Part 12 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Chapter 12 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

This is just a short filler chapter but I’m debating wrapping this story up after the next chapter, please let me know your thoughts!

You didn’t hear from Bucky for a couple of days but kept a watchful eye on the news. The flag smashers had been blowing up buildings and you had no doubt your Super Soldier would be hot on their tails. 

You were on your way home from work when your phone lit up and rang, signalling an incoming call from him. 

“Hey Buck!” You answered cheerily, pleased to be hearing from him as you dodged people on the street. 

“Hey Doll. Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No no of course not, it’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”

“What? I’m not allowed to call my best girl just to see how her day is?”

“Did that work on the girls back in the 40’s?” You teased, smiling to yourself as you enjoyed this side of your best friend. 

“You wound me doll” 

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure your ego can take it. How have you been? Any sign of coming home yet?” 

“No, not yet. Things just seem to go from bad to worse. What about you? Quit your job yet?”

You scoffed as you stopped by a bench and took a seat, wanting to give Bucky your full attention. “Unfortunately not. Some of us don’t have a pension to live off y’know, we’re not all a hundred and six.” 

“I know I know, I just don’t like you being stuck somewhere like that. You deserve a lot better than the GRC. I guess you’ll have to quit if you move out of New York though right?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I think with you being half way across the world it’s hit home, quite literally, on how little is keeping me here. I know you’re going to tease the shit out of me for this Buck but I think if it wasn’t for you living across the hall, I’d have left months ago.” You fiddled with the ring on your finger as you waited for his response, your breath shaky down the phone. 

“I’m glad you stayed.” 

“Me too” 

“I just - I don’t- Y/n… why do you even bother with me?” The self doubt was evident in his tone as you wondered what on earth had brought him to even question your relationship. 

“What do you mean? Where is this coming from Buck?” 

“Zemo… he said the serum corrupts everyone who takes it, with the exception of Steve of course. I’m not a good person Y/n, I’ve done terrible things, I’ve hurt a lot of people… and yet here you are, acting as though I’ve not spent the last seventy years murdering people. I nearly corrupted Steve - how are you not scared of me?”

“No. Stop it Bucky. You’re not going down that path. You’re not a bad person, you’re not corrupted by it. Steve wasn’t the only one okay? I need you to listen to me Buck, and I mean really listen. You’re good, you James Buchanan Barnes are worth it, Steve saw it, Sam saw it, I see it. But you’ve got to let us in and let go of the past. You didn’t choose to take the serum, you didn’t choose to fall off that train, you didn’t choose to become him. But… you can choose now. And...and - and- the person you’ve chosen to be.. Well he’s….well he’s incredible.” 

You closed your eyes as you caught your breath. The words had tumbled out faster than you’d anticipated, trying to quash any doubt Bucky had about himself. 

“You really believe that?” His voice was barely a whisper down the phone. 

“Yeah” 

“Doll… I have to go” 

“O-okay”

____________________________________________________

Bucky had been on edge ever since John had said your name back in Baltimore. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how he found out about you. He’d been so careful. He’d kept his phone a secret, only showing his therapist his burner. He paid in cash for everything and had all his utility bills in false names. He couldn’t afford for his enemies or what remained of Hydra to know about you. 

“This is ridiculous…” John muttered as he paced back and forth, waiting for Sam to give the signal. They were holed up in a back room as Sam attempted to negotiate with the leader of the flag smashers, something the budget Captain America had more than an issue with. 

“How did you know her name?”

“What?” John stopped in his tracks and faced Bucky, his face unreadable. 

“How did you know her name” Bucky stood from his seat and strode towards the other man, going toe to toe. 

“Oh your girlfriend?” Walker chuckled, nodding his head in understanding. “We’ve been keeping an eye on her for a while.”

“John” Lemar urged, pulling on his friend's arm, knowing no good would come of his taunting.

“I’m surprised you’re still here quite frankly. I’d have thought you’d be at home with your wife.” Bucky taunted, his jaw clenching.

“Why wouldn’t Captain America be hunting down a terrorist?” Walker smirked, overly confident. 

“If I was married, I’m sure my wife would want me home for our ten year anniversary. Tomorrow isn’t it?” Bucky's eyes bored into John’s, almost daring him to make a move. After Baltimore Bucky had done his own intel, getting as much information on the downgraded Captain America as possible. He’d felt slightly uncomfortable invading his privacy but he pushed any ill feeling aside when he reminded himself he’d done the exact same thing to him. When it came to you, Bucky didn’t have a limit on how far he’d go to keep you safe. 

“You fucker” John hissed, shoving Bucky with all his strength but only able to push him back a single step. 

“Ah, now I remember. She’s got other plans, what was his name… Ah! Carl. That’s it.  Her personal trainer. He’s got glowing reviews John, maybe he can help you out?” Taking a step forward, Bucky came toe to toe with Walker again. The man before him was seething, practically shaking with rage. “Stay out of Y/n’s business and I’ll stay out of yours.” 

“Or what?” he spat, fists clenched as a worried Lemar looked on. 

“You’ve read my file, I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.” Raising his left arm, Bucky gently slapped John’s cheek twice, smiling back at the man as he mocked him. He kept his eyes trained on him as he slowly backed away and leant back against the door frame; patiently waiting for Sam.

Tag list:

@iamtheonewhocares @indigo123789 @xpurpleglitter

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 5

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Sorry for the wait, I had a nightmarish week.... I won’t let this little fic die 💜 I can’t wait to write more about it, even though the chapters are hella short xD

She couldn’t deny the butterflies in her stomach. That evening with Donnie have had that je-ne-sais-quoi that made her smile mindlessly whenever she’d think about it. It’s been a while since she last felt like that...

On Thursday they barely had time to have any conversation, only to have their next interaction postponed to Friday - a single day without talking to him almost feeling like an entire week... Vee was going on and about from one corner of the office to the other, handing a pile of documents to various departments, until she passed before Donnie’s office. The door was wide open, giving him a chance to see her walk by. His reaction had been almost immediate, jumping on his feet and going straight to the door frame.

“Vee!”

The woman stopped in her tracks, looking in his direction with a surprised look. They were both frozen for a moment, speech a meaningless thing right at that moment... Donnie tried to redeem himself, quickly clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

“Need help?” he asked, gesturing the documents Vee was holding.

Her lips parted in a small “o”, glancing at her burden and then back at the mutant.

“... Are you sure you want to help me with that? Don’t you have important boss things to do?”

“I’m already done for the day,” he answered instantly.

He approached Vee, lowering his voice.

“Please, I need to look busy, or else Leo will drop more work on me. I don’t want to get something dumped on me that might interfere with my other plans.”

“Which are?” asked Vee, her voice a whisper as well, entering the game.

“As soon as he’s out of here, I’m jumping back to the Lowline drawing board. He considers it low priority for now, so he doesn’t really like when I get some work done on it while we have other more urgent projects in the works.”

Vee parted her pile in two, dumping some files in his hands.

“Follow me then, boss,” she smiled with a quick wink.

As both were on the move, Donnie couldn’t help looking at the woman once more, amused as he noticed:

“Looks like we broke the curse,” he started. “We’re not wearing the same colored clothes anymore!”

Vee was wearing a black shirt that had a pattern of colorful, jungle type leaves, the bottom of it tucked in her jeans. Her relaxed look was completed by her teal hair tied up in a messy bun. Meanwhile Donnie rather simple with a white shirt, an unevenly striped black and white tie, and beige pants.

“Huh! Beige suits you,” noted Vee, observing him as well.

“Wearing those clothes can be a challenge sometimes. Pale clothes are a nightmare whenever you do anything. I’m always so scared that I’ll spill anything on them.”

“Right?!” agreed the woman. “It can be such a nightmare. Imagine white pants! I’d be so scared to sit anywhere anytime!”

Small laughters were exchanged, the duo still walking. Their task was easily embellished with small talk of various subjects, Vee’s day suddenly brigthened by Donnie’s presence. All was good and she couldn’t be ever more grateful for any seconds spent with him...

***

As the rest of the day passed, Donnie thankfully avoiding any tasks from his older brother, people were starting to leave the office, this being the duo’s cue for their project. As Vee had a better understanding of the Lowline’s needs, she was able to provide better feedback about how to approach the plans and drawings, actively pointing whenever Donnie was doing something wrong and the woman simply grabbing a pencil, adding her touch here and there. She didn’t give a second thought about standing close to the mutant, her focus primarly on the drawing. She could sense Donnie’s gaze on her though, the turtle enamored with her work. He was truly open to her comments and loved to get the conversation going about how to proceed, appreciating her knowledge. They worked well together. ... So well that they didn’t see time pass and soon it was almost past eight in the evening. Exiting the small room in which the drawing board was in, they noticed rain starting to fall outside, the mutant then offering to drive the woman back home - to Vee’s greatest relief.

New York was restless. Even in the late hours of the night, it was still booming with life in certain areas, never a dull moment to be had. Vee loved looking at all the lights coloring the streets, the slight start of rain amplifying their shimmering on the pavement like an ephemeral oil painting. The vehicle's motion was creating a kaleidoscope of colors inside the SUV, slowly fading as the pair was rolling away from the busy streets to a somewhat calmer part of town. As Donnie parked near a sidewalk, the rain amplified, the drops drumming against the car's body. He wasn't close to Vee's apartment building, so the woman knew that if she were to step outside, she'd be soaking wet in no time.

“If you don't mind,” she started, looking over to the terrapin. “Can I wait in here for little while? I'm guessing this strong pour will stop at some point, they always do....”

Donnie gently smiled.

“They do indeed, and I don't mind at all,” he answered.

They paused, listening to the rain. This comfortable silence allowed Donnie to gather his thoughts, finally speaking up after a while:

“… It's rather nice, don't you think?”

“The ambient sound?” questionned Vee.

Donnie conceeded, while also adding: “Sure, it's calming. … But I just kept thinking; it's also nice to be here with you. It's nice that we seem to get along so well...”

Vee was suddenly speechless, her heart thundering in her ears. She tried to boot her thoughts back to her brain, tucking some strands of hair away.

“I- … yeah. It's nice.”

She felt his hand hold her left one, his touch soft as he brushed his thumb on her skin. “… I'm sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable,” he said.

“No!” reassured Vee. “No please, I... I simply wonder if this is right?”

She had said that last part with uncertainty, afraid she'd say something wrong.

"And what is 'this'?” questionned the terrapin, remaining calm.

Vee threw him an unimpressed look, getting a chuckle out of the male in return.

“Don't play this game with me, Donnie,” she said. “We're adults. I know flirting when I see it. … I just don't want it to be ill-intentioned on your part.”

His eyes grew wide, a slight distress felt in the air.

“I would never!” he added. “… To be frank, I'm not really used to flirting, so I'm sorry if I'm giving weird vibes.”

“Are you kidding?” lightly laughed Vee. “You make me blush so often, it might become permanent at some point.”

She brought her other hand to his, now properly holding him, simply to bring weight to her words:

“You've made me feel alive ever since we properly met... I simply feel happy, but considering our positions at work, that's why I'm asking if this is right? … I wouldn't want to dive too deep into this simply to drown...”

“People may say what they want, but I think as long as we remain professional, there's no harm?”

Their eyes met, trying to guess the right answer through unspoken words. As the rain was still gaining in strength, the loud pitter-patter seemed to break any barriers, Donnie gaining further courage to speak again:

“You're a beautiful and interesting woman, Vee. Just thinking about you makes me feel warm and I can't stop smiling... I realize that's a bit bold to lay out, but just as you said: we're adults. And I don't see why I should hide the fact that you're bringing me joy lately.”

Vee felt her heart melt, her hands slightly squeezing his. A faint sigh left her as she attempted to cling to reason:

“Let us see where things go from now on. … I think we need to rest our heads on this before anything else. … I appreciate you a lot, Donnie, I do. But right now we need to learn how to walk together before we sprint to any outcome.”

“I agree,” smiled the turtle. ‘’There’s no rush indeed. ... I like any moments spent with you.”

This moment felt so surreal all of a sudden. To openly express such feelings out in the open indeed was bold, from both of them, but it just felt so right. As a sign of fate, the rain was calming down, thus being the cue for Vee to head out and get home.  She wanted to stay here. She wanted to feel his presence and hear more about how he felt, but at the same time she wanted to stay true to her words.

“Well ... I guess this is time for me to go,” she said.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

That question surprised her at first.

“What now, I have to lay out my entire schedule to you?” she joked.

“Not really,” grinned Donnie. “But how about a date? That way we shall see how things unfold from now on.”

That caught her slightly off guard, but knowing she had thrown somehow the idea on their last evening out, she knew it was bound to happen.

“How could I ever decline?” she said, smiling. “... I’d like that very much.”

Donnie brought one of her hands up, leaving a soft kiss on top of it.

“Then you make me a very happy man.”

((Part 6))

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 8 May 1836

7 ½

12 35

no kiss A- low as usual ready at 9 10 very fine morning - at St. Helen’s church at 10 ½ - Mr. Acaster preached ½ hour from Hebrew xiii. 8 till 12 20 - preached so stupidly I soon fell asleep - A- had scarce got home before she was in tears and quite low got her to lay down and left her - left A- at home and walked into Micklegate to call on the Cromptons - not at home - left my card - then called on Mrs. Belcombe in the minster court and walked about with her and Mrs. Milne and Charlotte N- in the garden for 10 minutes till their dinner at 1 - then sat with C. and IN- till 2 ¼ - then came home and took A- to Coney street church to hear Mr. Taylor - did all the duty - read the prayers only tolerably considering the fine tone of his voice - but preached 21 minutes an excellent sermon - plain but leamed - liberal but surely orthodox in the best sense of the word - I could have listened longer - text Mark xvi. 16 - referred to 1 Timothy 4th and 9th chapters to shew that the same word used to signify faith in the one place is used to signify obedience in the other - an excellent manner of proving the emptiness of empty faith, of faith without works - faith in the gospel without obedience to its precepts - left the N-s near the church door and went into Micklegate (Mrs. Duffin having called while I was out and A- lying down) - and sat with the Duffins till 5 - except that I left A- there for 40 minutes while I went and sat with Henrietta Crompton - thanked her for her letter - mentioned Lecomtes’ illness - asked her (H.C.) to get to know what she could for me from Mrs. Marcus Worsley (to dine with them tomorrow) about Cookson who lived with Mrs. Worsley (William of Hovingham near Whitewell) - declined meeting Mrs. Marcus Worsley (quondam Miss Hainer and 2ndly Mrs. Andrew Barlow) to dinner - A- and I walked on the walls and along the river toward Bishopthorpe and home at 5 50 - dinner at 6 ¼ - lay slumbering on the sofa - tea at 9 ½ - long talk A- thought it her duty to leave me explanation said I could not stand this she must make up her mind and stick to it she should have no difficulty in leaving me but I thought her very foolish the fact is as I told her she did not like signing her will I told her she had best do it now and alter it afterwards  we should both look so foolish if she did not it would make the break between us immediate she had better take time  at last she saw or seemed to see her folly and said with more than usual energy she really would try to do better ‘tis well my own confidence is not great  I will do the best I can accordingly

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 55

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Google Docs file

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Chapter 45 | Chapter 46 | Chapter 47 | Chapter 48 & Chapter 49 | Chapter 50 | Chapter 51 | Chapter 52 | Chapter 53 | Chapter 54

“I want to see A-Yuan.”

WangJi suppresses a sigh, and makes no response.

Jiang WanYin, who has likely never suppressed a single thing in his life, bristles like a cat, “Are you deaf, as well as stupid? The Lan Sect Leader has ordered that you rest. Granny Wen has ordered that you rest. You are not going.”

Slumped against the pillows, Wei Ying does appear feeble and weak, his body motionless in a way that suggests an exhaustion too deep for needless activity. It had taken a long time to remove all the trappings of rank necessary for the audience he had held. It had not taken nearly as long as the initial preparation, but long enough where even Lady Jiang had looked worn down by the process. WangJi’s task during this time had involved standing on the other side of the screen, listening to the faint mutters, and being handed layers upon layers of silk. The disrobing process had resulted in a succession of whispering, slithering sounds, both of silk against silk, and silk against Wei Ying’s skin, sounds that will doubtlessly haunt him in his dreams.  

He is not precisely tired, but he is beginning to feel brittle in an unfamiliar way. The day had been long and stressful, allowing no time for contemplation and reflection. There will be consequences to the assistance the Lan Sect had provided to the Emperor. There will be consequences to such a blatant attack on the Divine Ruler, and these consequences may range anywhere from a set of executions, to an outright war. There will be consequences to Wei Ying’s actions today, the audience he had held, his defense of Wen RuoHan, his order for the immediate release of the Wen Sect from the Imperial dungeons.

Only days ago, WangJi would have disregarded the majority of these events as issues beyond his scope of understanding and responsibility, but today, he cannot. Soon enough, this will be his world as well. The Second Young Master of a disgraced Sect need only obey. The Emperor Consort must understand the complexities of ruling an Empire, the consequences of each decision made, the hierarchy governing the sect relations, and the full scope of the delicate balancing act that keeps the Empire peaceful and prosperous.

This is the cost of marrying Wei Ying, a price that WangJi is more than willing to pay. But it is a cost made no less overwhelming by his willingness.  

Wei Ying’s expression turns stubborn, “He is alone among strangers, thinking I am on my death bed. I want to see him.”

“Wei WuXian,” Jiang WanYin says tightly, “if you can get up right now and walk out of this palace on your own two feet, you can go see A-Yuan, or go straight to hell for all I care.”

Lady Jiang may have acquiesced to his request, but she had taken her leave. The Imperial guards could have been ordered to carry Wei Ying anywhere he desires to go, but this would defeat the purpose of keeping the child hidden.

Wei Ying had been ordered to sleep.

WangJi thinks, if he could only be persuaded to close his eyes and stop speaking for a moment, the exhaustion he is trying so hard to ignore would accomplish the rest.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, turning his head, his eyes large and shining, “I want to see A-Yuan.”

Wisps of hair are stuck to his cheek, curving around the line of his jaw. His face is pale, but his lips are no longer bloodless, hovering just on the verge of a pout. WangJi knows that this is an expression Wei Ying has used before; he has seen it turned on Lady Jiang, and he has seen it throughly shatter her resolve. He remembers thinking Lady Jiang too easily swayed by such obvious tactics. He remembers thinking that he, himself, would never fold so easily by a mere hint of a pout.

WangJi is a fool. Love must permanently remove the most essential parts of one’s brain, because he can say absolutely nothing in response to Wei Ying’s plea.

Instead, his mind unhelpfully provides the memory of Wei Ying’s braid coiled in his lap. Wei Ying’s temple pressed to the side of his neck. The rich scent of ripe pears. The curve of Wei Ying’s waist through the heavy silk of the Imperial dragon robes.  

Underneath these memories, his mind is hopelessly sifting through possible solutions to the issue. Wei Ying most certainly can not walk out of the palace on his own two feet. He can not cross his own chambers without being supported, and would likely need to be carried any longer distances. A-Yuan cannot be brought to him, as the situation at court is still dangerously tense, and the child must remain hidden.

“If you attempt this,” WangJi says carefully, “you will fall ill before you reach him. It will scare the child, to see you so weak. But if you must go see him, I will carry you.”

Jiang WanYin splutters.

Wei Ying’s eyes widen.

The expression on his face, the baffled disbelief slowly melting into a familiar softness, is so open, so transparent, that WangJi feels his own face heat in response. He is suddenly finding the embroidery on Wei Ying’s bed curtains extremely fascinating.

“You are both right,” Wei Ying says after a few moments, “I should not go tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“Ugh,” Jiang WanYin says, “Now I feel ill too. Just go to sleep.”

“You leave first,” Wei Ying says, “I want to speak to Lan Zhan.”

Jiang WanYin makes a noise. It is a wordless one, but it still manages to perfectly express a hefty dose of disgust. He leaves quickly, as if afraid that Wei Ying will begin to speak to Lan Zhan before he has managed to make his exit.

Wei Ying reaches out, but seems to do so unthinkingly, the motion immediately interrupted by a hiss of pain. Perhaps the wrist injury is not the most serious one he had suffered, but WangJi has noticed him forget that particular pain often enough, where each resurgence catches him by surprise. In two steps, he finds himself by the bed, but once there, he is forced to stop and practice some self-restraint.

“You promised to be more careful,” he says, “The Head Healer should have strapped that arm to your chest.”

He means it as an admonishment, but his voice does a poor job conveying anything other than worry.

“It does not hurt,” Wei Ying lies with a smile, “Come sit next to me. That way, I do not need to move much.”

Only moments ago he had insisted that he is well enough to visit A-Yuan. Now, he is too weak to move on his own, and must have WangJi sit by his side.

WangJi wonders why these brazen tactics, which would be abhorrent in anyone else, are so irresistibly appealing when employed by Wei Ying. He wonders if there is anything about Wei Ying that will ever be unappealing. He is, again, forced to consider the possibility that love makes one unbearably stupid, and that this is precisely why he has already moved to sit down by Wei Ying, without giving the consequences of such action any further thought.

Wei Ying reaches for him again, the moment he has settled on the side of the bed, and WangJi takes his hand carefully, supporting the splinted wrist with his palm.

“You said you would not move.” 

“I forgot,” Wei Ying says shamelessly, his fingers warm against WangJi’s pulse.

“You should sleep,” WangJi admonishes.

“I will,” Wei Ying says quickly, “but I have not-- had the chance to speak to you. After-- the Gifting Ceremony.”

His gaze lowers to their joined hands, fingers restless against WangJi skin, despite the fact that even this small movement must pain him.

“A great deal has happened,” he goes on, the words rushed, “There is so much I was not aware of before. About YanLing DaoRen, and his use of resentful energy, and this-- apparent affinity for demonic cultivation present in his descendants. The Lan Sect takes pride in the purity of their cultivation techniques. Over the centuries, they alone have remained unblemished by unorthodox practices.”

He falls silent then, letting WangJi try and make sense of the words on his own. This feels much akin to Wei Ying’s proposal, where WangJi must separate the words, then place them in a different order, just to discern the meaning behind them.

Once he does, however, he feels frustration and fondness flood him in equal measures.

“I still want to marry you, Wei Ying.”

“You--“ Wei Ying shifts, “Are you not worried? This affinity does not bother you?”

“Will you begin practicing demonic cultivation?” WangJi counters.

“What? Of course not!”

“Then it does not matter,” WangJi says firmly.

“How can it not matter?” Wei Ying says, agitated, “YanLing DaoRen nearly destroyed the Empire. He slaughtered thousands. How can you be sure that his madness will not become my own?”

WangJi, prepared to call his assertion utter nonsense that it is, pauses before speaking. It had not occurred to him that Wei Ying would be so throughly rattled by Nie HuaiSang’s revelation.  

In retrospect, it seems obvious that this had to have been the purpose of Xue ChengMei’s story. To sow doubts and fears, not just in Wei Ying, but in all those closest to the Emperor. A filthy tactic, meant to cause chaos and uncertainty. It is no wonder that Song ZiChen had demanded no one speak to the boy.

“Wei Ying,” WangJi says carefully, “You are not YanLing DaoRen. I am not Lan ZhongYi. We exist under the shadow of those who came before us, and bear the burdens they have placed on our shoulders. But we are not them.”

Wei Ying’s breath stutters, his fingers pressing against WangJi’s wrist.

“But--“

“We spoke of Lan ZhongYi, and the reasons behind his actions. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“My mother did not kill Xu XiaoYun,” Wei Ying says softly.

“And I did not kill the Empress,” WangJi responds.

The words feel much lighter than he had imagined they could be, if ever spoken out loud.

Wei Ying falls silent, a rare enough occurrence where WangJi allows it to happen. There are now dark shadows under his eyes, and it takes a great deal of restraint not to issue another reminder about the necessity for rest, and long, uninterrupted sleep. Perhaps Wei Ying’s stubbornness requires a different type of approach. WangJi is starting to believe that any firm insistence on a specific course of action is more likely to propel Wei Ying in a completely opposite direction. This is something that will require further thought.

“You still want to marry me?” Wei Ying says, the corner of his mouth now slightly lifted, an expression that is not quite serious, but not quite teasing either.

“Yes,” WangJi says, “I still want to marry you.”

Wei Ying grins, shifting a little closer, “Will you allow me to make the announcement? Before the Lan Sect departs?”

WangJi is certain that the events of the last few days have already reached Cloud Recesses. The delay to consult with the Elders seems pointless now, as the rumors of the betrothal have been running rampant since the last Sect Leader meeting. Uncle’s actions, during and after the Gifting Ceremony, must have only served to reinforce these rumors.

It is difficult to decide which course of action will result in greater impropriety. An immediate announcement, or a lengthy delay, during which the entire court will ruthlessly judge his every interaction with the Emperor. The Emperor who is wholly unashamed of expressing his affection, and insists on behaving as if they are already betrothed.

WangJi sighs, “You must obtain uncle’s approval for the announcement.”

“Will you come and visit A-Yuan with me tomorrow?”

WangJi nods. It is a small enough request, and he is fond enough of the child where a visit would not be a chore.

“Will you spend the night?”

“Wei Ying!”

It is unbearable, the sheer number of times Wei Ying can make his face heat in a single day. How can an Emperor be so utterly shameless?

“Ahh, Lan Zhan, do not be angry. I only meant that you should stay in the Imperial chambers. What if I were to fall ill during the night and need assistance?”

Carefully, WangJi places his hand back down, and rises from the bed, “If this is the case, we should summon the Head Healer right now, and request that she spend the night in the Imperial chambers.”

Wei Ying splutters, “Wait-- that--“

“I would not want to take the chance of you falling ill during the night.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, “Why are you so cruel? Can I not ask my future husband to spend the night with me?”

“No, you may not.”

“What if I were to find myself unable to sleep, and in need of company?”

“Summon the Royal Companion. I am sure he will be equal to the task.”

“But--“

WangJi bows deeply, “Good night, Your Majesty. I will take my leave now.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying’s voice follows him out into the hall, “Hey, Lan Zhan! Wait!”

WangJi closes the door behind him, and turns to the nearest guard, “His Majesty requires the presence of the Royal Companion. And the Head Healer.”

The guard does not question the order.

[strxnged]

WHEN IT'S DARK : chapter 4, again

-> ARTIST!AKAASHI x GN!READER

CHAPTER 1 HERE

Summary: Akaashi’s mental health has been failing since Bokuto left and he seems to be dismissing many of his abilities - especially his artistic talent. When you see advertisements for an art contest that you know he’d have in the bag, you get an idea.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings/content: descriptions of depression, Akaashi being somewhat OOC due to evident mental illness, angst + arguing, hopeful ending.

TAGLIST: @h-grangerstudies @bluefaeriefury @bokubonk @daddyjackfrost @snoozless @soft-angel-clouds @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @milktyama @tanzaniiite @dai-tsukki-desu @kozu-zumi @borpcorp @astrqmi @tobi-momo @minadreams @kailleis-sunshine @serenitycushing @floralkawa @boba-duckie @felixsamour @akaashrifa

NAVIGATION // SERIES MASTERLIST // CHAPTER 5

It was December 20th. The day you’d been reimagining in your head every night for two weeks. The day that things would change, finally.

Your math teacher was acting worried about you, for a good reason. Your grades had been slipping remarkably over the last week or so. Even though you felt like you were trying just as hard as ever, it was true that you spent some classes glancing over at Akaashi, wondering whether things really would change. And you did spend a few classes watching him draw. And your mind was elsewhere during classes — imagining a better future.

A contest. A tiny art contest. It felt like you’d bet your whole future on it.

“Do you need to talk to the counselor?” the teacher asked you, lowering her pencil. “It’s okay if you do. You’re not going to improve if you keep up with whatever’s going on.”

Just one more day, you thought. I’ll do better after this. I’ll have gotten through to him, and he…

You accepted the opportunity, heading to the counselors office. You took out your phone to check your phone for about the seventeenth time today. You refreshed your email a few times, and then sighed and collapsed into a chair. You only intended to stay here to escape the math teacher continuing to tell you you were failing her class.

“Y/N? Do you need to talk?” the counselor said from inside his office.

You knew him, from a few instances last year and the year before. But those were nothing compared to this.

You considered lying, saying that you were just not getting enough sleep. It wasn’t untrue; you had spent several nights lying awake recently. But… you were really tired of keeping in. You could talk to Bokuto tonight or tomorrow. However, as much as you knew he would care and worry, he might not understand, and he really wasn’t the best at listening.

So you shuffled into the counselors office. You didn’t like it much here. The walls were covered in obnoxious quotes and art students had done for him.

“So, what’s going on? Remember, you can say as little or as much as you want.”

You sighed. “I dunno. It’s just… you know my friend? Akaashi?”

He nodded.

“I’m just worried about him, I guess.”

“Have you told him that?”

You paused. “Well… yes? Sort of? I told him I wanted him to get better.”

“Get better?”

“He’s depressed. I think.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, it’s pretty obvious.”

He nodded. “It’s hard to see a friend go through that.”

Thanks for all your help, you thought. Your eyes wandered the walls again as if you were searching for answers, looking through eccentrically colored cats, dark skulls, feeble rainbows. A vine of flowers. A—

A vine of flowers.

You stood up and stepped towards the wall. Part of it was covered by a fresher artwork, but it was undoubtedly his hand. Even the same pencil. This couldn’t have been from very long ago.

“Does he come in here?”

“He does. He draws.”

“Oh.”

You paused to look at it a little longer. Flowers climbing out of the lines of the paper. Life.

You slowly sat down again, feeling your knees begin to shake and a sob rise in your throat.

Drawing wasn’t a hobby or a habit for him. It was his last expression. His last hope. He needed it to survive.

It was all so clear now. You shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have touched his art. He would never trust you again, or if he would, it would remain bruised. He’d already needed an escape from you, even if it was small, and now you were invading even that.

You really hadn’t known what that sketch had meant to him.

Was it too late to take it out of the contest?

After you recovered somewhat, thanking the counselor for letting you sit in there for a bit, you started walking back to the math classroom. You hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious that you’d been crying. You’d figure this out. At least — you thought you would. And then you opened your email out of habit, and saw the contest results.

-✧-

Bokuto was supposed to come this evening. You were all supposed to meet at last year’s favourite hangout spot, one park a few blocks from the school. You were supposed to be happy to see him.

You still hadn’t told Akaashi about the contest, of course. You were going to wait until you found a good way to tell him. You told yourself that this would be within the next few days, although part of you knew it would be put off as long as possible.

Which was coming back to bite you tonight.

You almost didn’t want to go. You didn’t know whether you could face Bokuto, who barely knew what Akaashi was going through, and you knew you couldn’t face Akaashi because of the secret you were holding back. But — you had hoped that your best friend seeing Bokuto again would help him get back on track. Whatever track that may be. You’d be there to help him with that, too.

The question was whether he’d want you there.

Bokuto was already at the park, and when he looked up to see you, his face lit up. He was the same as ever, greeting you with a big hug and a big grin and asking you how your last year of high school was going. You told him some general opinions about how it had been going — more pressure, more work, and missing him, of course. He started to talk about how he was getting to meet lots of very talented people and he was learning a lot and the highlight was of course that he was having fun, but he really missed you and Akaaashi—

Akaashi showed up. He didn’t look overly excited, as you might have hoped he would’ve been. But he still smiled at Bokuto, and then made a comment about Bokuto not remembering to wear a jacket.

“It’s not that cold, Akaashi!” he said, and then gave him a hug which Akaashi half-reciprocated. You watched. You couldn’t help but study your friend’s expressions, looking for signs of real joy in seeing Bokuto again. So far, his narrow eyes were annoyed at the minimum.

“I missed you!” Bokuto was saying, and you started to zone out, watching Akaashi. His face was darkening.

You cleared your throat. “Do you guys want hot chocolate or something? I can run over to the cafe while you catch up.”

You didn’t really wait for a response, knowing that Akaashi wouldn’t give you much of an answer and Bokuto would insist on going with you. You didn’t know what Akaashi was feeling right now, but you had an idea that he really needed to talk to Bokuto. They hadn’t been together in person since the summer. And that time had been fleeting.

You noticed with confused annoyance that your nose had begun to run slightly; either a result of the cold, or it was because the idea of Akaashi having an opportunity to talk to Bokuto again made your chest hurt. The cold air hadn’t been that bad, but when you stepped into the small cafe, you could feel the difference. You took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly fade now that you weren’t with them.

Why couldn’t things go back to normal?

And why had you expected that they would?

You ordered three drinks, and was careful to keep them balanced in the cup tray as you carried them back across the street towards the park. Bokuto and Akaashi had sat down on a bench; you wondered how cold the surface was. As you approached them, you could see Akaashi’s eyes widen at something Bokuto was saying.

“Congratulations on the what?” Akaashi asked him as you handed Bokuto a drink.

“The contest, of course! Didn’t you see the results?”

You froze as Bokuto smiled at you, taking the cup from you. “Hi Y/N! Thank you.”

“What contest do you mean?” Akaashi shifted his gaze to you. “Y/N, what’s he talking about?”

That tone again.

He knew.

AN: hahahahahaa hahaha *punches wall* damn it y/n

NAVIGATION // SERIES MASTERLIST // CHAPTER 5

[tlou-1]

Joel Miller x Reader (Home) - Chapter 19

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13| Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 

Chapter 19 - It’s the night of the winter dance and bonds are beginning to heal

“Do we really need to go this evening?” Joel moaned from the sofa, he had his feet rested upon the coffee table as he lowered his reading glasses to give you a stare. 

“I know, I know. I wish I hadn’t said we would now that you are on patrol tomorrow but we can make a brief appearance” you shift his feet from the coffee table and gesture for him to get up and get ready. He groans and rolls his eyes before making for upstairs to changes, “Thank you” you call to him

“But I ain’t dancing” he calls back. It had become a bit of a tradition to attend the winter dances but between Joel having patrol pretty early and having to put Patrick in the nursery centre for a couple hours, you would much prefer a quiet night. 

You had been searching for Patricks favourite toy, dino the dinosaur that Ellie had gave to him on his birthday. He took it everywhere with him and would refuse to leave the house tonight without it. You had searched all the cupboards, between the sofa, under the sofa. You started pulling things out of your and Joel’s jacket pockets followed by your backpacks. You were in the front pocket of a bag when you felt something cold and metal but it wasn’t in the shape of a gun, curious you pulled it out. “What the fuck?” You exclaimed as you pulled out a grenade. You scream at Joel to get down that stairs, “What’s wrong?” He calls panicked but finds you standing wide eyed with the metal explosive in your hand. 

“What the hell is this doing in our house?” You shout at him, he laughs slightly and scratches the back of his head which makes you even madder. He can see the fury growing in your eyes, “It’s a dud, darlin I found it back at the firefly hospital. It’s just a dud” he says calmly taking it out of your hand and placing it back in the bag. “How do you know it is? Have yous tested it?” You ask with your arms crossed. Joel quickly tries to change the subject and get you out of the house “Come on now we don’t want to be late”. 

The church looked the same as it always did for these sorts of things, a few fairy lights and what ever Christmas decorations could be found lying around, tinsel, paper chains made by the children. Joel stayed true to his word, neither of you were up for dancing and were quite happy to stick to the back of the room, Joel nursing his one drink for the evening. You were still mad at him and had shouted at him to hand that thing into Maria tomorrow. 

“Neither of you going to join in tonight?” Tommy asks pointing towards the floor. You and Joel both look over towards the floor, you both clock Ellie dancing with Dina. She hadn’t spoken to either of you since Patrick’s birthday. Looking at her and Dina you could defiantly sense there was something between them, you could see Ellie always looked at Dina in that way but it was beginning to look like Dina was looking at her in the same way. 

“Not tonight Tommy, you know I have got patrol first thing tomorrow” Joel brushes off his brother.

“Yeah I know cause I am going with you but you don’t see me making excuses” Tommy continued. “I got a few years on you little brother, maybe in time you will appreciate a good nights sleep” Joel dismissed him once again, an involuntary laugh escapes you causing them both to look at you.

“I am so glad my wife finds my ageing state so amusing” Joel teases crossing his arms, you are about to apologise to him when Tommy begins to insist you dance since you wouldn’t be on patrol tomorrow.

“Tommy I’d really rather not” you begin to protest and look too Joel for back up but he lifts his arms up as if he wasn’t going to get involved. You roll your eyes, plant a kiss on his temple before allowing Tommy to pull you onto the dance floor. Thankfully the song is almost over as soon as it began, that’s when you start to hear the commission.

“Just what this town needs, another loud mouthed dyke” you hear a voice yell and Ellie shouting back. You are making your way towards the situation when Joel is already in Seth’s face pushing him out of Ellie’s way.

“Hey! Get the hell out of here” He says sternly putting himself between Ellie, Dina and Seth. It wasn’t often people in Jackson saw this side of Joel these days but god he could have this look on his face that would truly frighten anybody. You are standing at his side when Maria pulls them apart to defuse the situation. 

“What about them?” Seth asks trying to push back towards Joel, “How about you just worry about yourself Seth” you hiss standing firmly. 

Joel eases up as soon as he leaves and turns his attention to Ellie “You all right kiddo?” He asked but before he could barely finish Ellie turns right back to him

“What is wrong with you?” She snaps. Part of you wanted to intervene but your instincts told you it was better not too, you stood behind Joel watching the scene unfold. 

“He had no right-“ Joel begins and again is interrupted.

“And you do?” She asks, everyone is watching at this point and then Ellie says cruelly “I don’t need you fucking help Joel”. The words were sharp, cruel and Joel’s expression made it hard for you to watch anymore of this. Your husband looks around and notices all the eyes on him. 

“Right” says quietly and turns to leave the room. You’re arm tries to brush his as he leaves to comfort him but he just keeps walking. You go to follow him but before you do you turn to Ellie quietly so no one could hear “Jesus was that really needed Ellie? He only wanted to help”. 

“Joel! Slow down” you shout to him, you had been running to try and catch up with him but the snow was slowing you down. He eventually stops to let you catch up but doesn’t turn around. “Hey” you say softly reaching for his hand when you finally reach him, he goes to keep walking but you hold him back and pull at him to try and get him to look down at you. “You going to talk to me cowboy, hmm?” you question in a hushed tone. When Joel turns to look at you, you can see his glazed eyes are sorrowful and the lines around his face look deeper than normal, it was painful to see him like this. You squeeze his hand tightly, “Let’s just pick up Patrick and get home” he sighs and you both beginning walking again.

Joel carries an already sleeping Patrick in his arms all the way home. His son seemed to have calmed him down slightly and being careful not to wake him gave him something to focus on but when you got home and had put Patrick down you both sat outside on the back porch. 

“Joel I don’t know what to say” you sigh as he passes you a mug of hot coffee. 

“What can you say darling? She is never going to forgive me and that’s just it” he shrugs and sips his coffee. He for once just looked defeated by it, he always seemed to just keep going with the flow but for once he seemed to really think this was it for them both. 

“There was no need for her to be so -“ you struggled to finish the sentence, cruel? Harsh? Unfeeling? It felt difficult to say but the looking at Joel’s face in that moment those were the words that sprung to mind. 

“Why don’t you play something?” You ask him and he happily obliges giving his mind and hands something to do. 

There was a creak of wood half way through the song, Joel stopped playing and you both looked to see Ellie making her way across the porch sheepishly. “Hey” Joel says softly as he sets down the guitar. 

“What are yous drinking?” She asks leaning against the railing.

“Coffee” Joel replies. Ellie asks where you could have got it, it’s true it wasn’t the easiest thing to find. 

“Uh, those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it but it’s not bad” he explains. You gesture for Joel to go stand with her and you quietly head into the kitchen, they deserved to talk alone but you couldn’t help but listen to the conversation. There was so much quiet in between each time one of them spoke and Joel’s voice so usually confident and assertive had grown quiet, skittish even. You couldn’t deny there were a few times you wanted to go out there and chime in, explain to Ellie her life was more important than her death but you sat in your seat and took another sip of your coffee. 

“If somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment I would do it all over again” you heard Joel say his voice more intentional. A long pause followed again, “I don’t know how I could ever forgive you for that… but I would like to try” Ellie says. You hear Joel’s breathing in and out through his nose and he swallows back his emotion “I’d like that”. His voice breaks as says goodbye to her. A few moments later you hear the back door open and close and he is standing in the door way of the kitchen. You give him a soft smile and put your hands out to him, he sets his mug down and takes them. You press a soft kiss against his knuckles and pull yourself up. You wipe away the few tears on his damp cheek, “Come on, let’s get to bed. You have an early start tomorrow”. You both slept soundly for the first time in a while. 

You awaken to the noice of Joel getting ready for Patrol a few hours later, it seemed wrong to be asking him to go out after only getting a short amount of sleep. 

“Sorry Darin, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet” he whispered clothing the wardrobe. It made to smile slightly, Joel always tried to be quiet but a man his build, winter boots and old wooden floors were not a good combination. 

“It’s alright. I just wish you could get back into bed” you say snuggling into his side of the bed, it was still warm and smelt like him. He sighed, it was obvious he would rather be in bed too, “Ill be back later, probably 10”. 

“I hate patrols in winter. You be safe out there Joel Miller, hear me?” You say sternly to him, you couldn’t help but remind him every time he went out on patrol without you. 

Joel makes his way to you and sits on the bed “Yes mam, always”, kisses you softy and leaves. You heard the front door close and fall asleep for a couple hours. 

[damienthepious]

wow this hiatus sure is long huh

Tomorrow’s Some Kind Of Strangerland (chapter 5)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum & The Keep, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Sir Damien, Rilla, Queen Mira, Original Monster Character(s)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ceasefire, Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters), canonical character illness, asking for help, (i still dn’t know how to tag things rip), (uhhhhh canon-typical fantasy monster-hatred? that’s gonna be a thing)

Summary:  When Mira took the throne, she did what no human ruler in living memory has done - she reached out, and brokered peace with the monsters. It is a shaky, uncertain sort of peace, but she and the current monster Senate have managed to maintain it for a handful of years now with only minor incident.

Lord Arum has not interacted with the human infection in the Northern Wilds since the ceasefire, but when his Keep becomes ill past his own ability to cure, the Senate has a peculiar idea for how to help the isolated Lord while testing the goodwill of their tentative allies at the same time.

Chapter Summary: Lord Arum adjusts to his temporary chambers.

Chapter Notes: less sick this week, thankfully. things still bad! just hanging in there, trying to keep doing my own thing, as always.

~

Arum can feel the knight seething as he leads him through the halls towards the… accommodations his little Queen insisted upon. Arum certainly can't complain about the adjustment; anything is better than listening to the vicious little creature babbling on about propriety and duty and whatever petty problems he has with Arum's voice. At least he has enough respect for his ruler to clamp his jaw shut, for a little while.

None of the other knights or servants pay them much more mind than a polite tilt of the head. Substantially more well trained than this irritating creature, apparently.

He buries a sneer. Was Mira joking, when she referred to Sir Damien as one of her most skilled knights, or was she simply setting Arum up for failure? Certainly they won't even get through the next full day before this skittish, irritable thing cracks and tries to kill Arum in his own borrowed chambers. An incident waiting to happen, this obnoxious, impossible to ignore little fool-

Sir Damien opens the door before him, dropping his eyes as Arum sweeps past stubbornly.

The chambers are... acceptable. Arum can see a number of points of structural inefficiency, but nothing so egregious as to worry him in truth. The stone is cut clean, the plush rugs dyed bright and lovely, the walls draped with tapestries and hung trailing plants (this last point being the most comforting; there is nothing he would have seen in his own swamp growing in this room, but the flora still looks glossy and well-cared-for). The front room houses bookshelves, a low table with surrounding cushions, and a writing desk beside a wide window curtained with green that Arum would be worried about if he had any faith that a human could climb these towers. A monster could, and perhaps Arum will still place a precautionary trap on the sill, but it is a relatively low risk. Arum can see the bedchamber through an open door, a much smaller room with a much smaller window.

The bed is piled with pillows and thick cloth. Humans and their soft, thin skin. Pathetic.

"Apparently," Sir Damien says, his tone frustrated and flat, "I will be staying in the adjoining servant's chambers. There is a hidden passage here," he says, and then he moves to brush aside one of the tapestries, pressing on what Arum had taken for a loose stone and swinging a small doorway open. The room behind the hidden door is somewhat smaller, less decorated, more utilitarian.

Arum does not bother to disguise the irritation on his face with this development. The knight certainly hasn't bothered to do the same.

"Provided that you do not enter these chambers uninvited and unannounced, I do not suppose I will have any reason to protest," he mutters, and the knight frowns. "You will not be afraid to sleep with a monster so close by?"

"I am not afraid of you," Sir Damien says, tone arch as he raises his chin. "Besides, I do not believe you would get what you want out of my Queen, if you attempted to assassinate me in the dark of night, would you?"

Arum keeps his eyes fixed on Sir Damien's for a long moment, a growl tickling soft in his throat. "So. You are capable of rational thought. Good." The knight sputters, his cheeks darkening with fury, but Arum turns his face away before he can protest more thoroughly. "Now. Leave me. It was a long journey, and I would quite like to rest unassailed by buffoons for the first time since I began to approach your shoddy little city."

The knight makes another noise, choking nonverbal indignation, but he either thinks better of speaking his mind in this moment or he is simply too angry to speak at all, and after a long moment Arum hears him step through to the other chamber and pull the stone door back closed behind him with an angry thunk.

Arum sags, just slightly, when he is finally alone again. He checks the door back into the palace hallway, first, latching the lock (for what little peace of mind that gives him), and then he begins to set up a few more trustworthy precautions.

He sets a small trap on the wide window, a fragile macrachnidweb lattice laced invisibly across the open sill, which will loudly set off a packet of snapseeds hidden beneath the curtain if broken. He hides another across the smaller window in the bedroom, just in case. He hides a detector under the lip of the table as well, the pseudo-cicada primed to alert him to any magic besides his own or the Keep's.

There is no lock on the bedroom door. Rather unfortunate. Arum sighs, then simply glares hard at the closed door for a long moment before he turns to the bed. He will set up a semi-permanent portal back to the Keep in the morning, when he feels better rested, when he has enough energy to cobble together a makeshift lock of his own. He already knows exactly which tapestry he can move to hide the portal against the wall; all he needs do is arrange the swamp dirt in his bags in the proper place, and then the Keep can grow a little foothold. If it doesn't need to produce a new portal in a new place every night, the strain shouldn't be unreasonable. It will allow him to continue to work towards his own cure while Mira's physician is still distant, and perhaps tomorrow Arum may even rest in his own damned bed again.

For now, he lowers his head, and then he climbs up onto the absurdly soft pile of human fabrics and curls around his packs for safekeeping, his eyes on the unlocked door with sharp distrust for what feels like a long, long time before he manages to succumb to sleep.

~

Sir Damien can sleep nearly anywhere, if necessary, and still wake with the dawn, with enough time to run through his morning exercises and meditate, at least briefly, with Saint Damien.

Waking within such close proximity to where a monster sleeps, however... it is disconcerting, to say the very least. Though, he did not lie, the night before. He is not afraid of Lord Arum.

He steps out into the hallway to clear his head before he attempts another conversation with that lizard, and he intercepts one of the palace workers, coming to meet him with a tray of food for himself and the monster ambassador. Damien suppresses an irritated huff, managing to thank the worker before he retreats back into his room with the tray.

Damien sets the tray down on the table in his room with a sigh, imagining the look on Sir Absolon's face if he heard that Damien had been tasked with serving food in the private chambers provided to a monster, and then he shakes his head to clear it.

He knocks on the stone door (less hidden, on his side of the wall), and waits a long moment. He supposes that it might take some time, if the creature is still in bed, for him to answer.

More than a minute passes. Damien knocks again.

"Lord Arum?" He pauses, and then he leans to press his ear closer to the stone. He cannot hear anything, though it is impossible to tell if that is because of the stone, or because there is nothing to hear. "Lord Arum, may I- may I come in? I have-" he winces, sighs, "I have breakfast for the both of us, if... Lord Arum?"

He knocks once more, and when that still yields no answer he frowns and grumbles a curse under his breath, and then he dares to press the hidden door open a crack, peering warily through.

The room looks... nearly untouched. Perhaps the monster truly was as exhausted as he claimed, or-

The door to the bedroom is still closed. Damien cannot- should not assume, simply because the monster is not in sight, that the creature has escaped- rather, disappeared into the Citadel unaccompanied, against Damien's orders-

He takes a deep breath, and then presses the door further open.

"Lord Arum, I wouldn't like to disturb you, but-"

A noise in the bedroom, strange and distant. Like- song? Or- chiming, perhaps. Unlike the rattling, rough voice of the monster.

"Lord Arum?" he asks, more suspicion coloring his tone as he steps closer to the bedroom door. "Lord-"

The door swings open, the monster striding out quickly enough to nearly collide with Sir Damien, growling with his frill flared and his cape half-draped over only a single shoulder.

"What? What is it? What do you want?"

"I..." Damien blinks, swallows, and leans back from the way the monster looms above him. "Er- there is- food. For the both of us. You did not answer, and I-"

"Thought you should barge into the private chambers your queen allocated for me?" he snaps, violet eyes flashing, and Damien feels a pulse of irritation burn past his surprise.

"You didn't answer," Damien repeats, more snap in his voice. "Do you want me to bring you your breakfast, or do you not?"

The monster glares for a long moment, his tail lashing behind him, and then he exhales a sigh and turns, reaching a hand over his own shoulder to right his cape again. Damien attempts not to notice the way the muscles of Arum's shoulders move beneath the motion, suggesting far more strength than Damien had previously assumed.

He will... need to keep that in mind.

"Ugh. Fine," the monster grumbles, turning and stalking to the table to drape himself across the cushions with an overdramatic sigh. "Next time I will try to wake more promptly, so you do not decide to kick down my door in a panic."

Damien narrows his eyes, then flicks his gaze into the bedchamber for just a moment before he turns back to his own room to gather the meal again.

The bed looks rumpled, though the sheets themselves seem as if they have not been turned back (did the creature simply curl up on top of the blankets?), and nothing much seems disturbed-

One of the tapestries on the far wall swings lightly, gently, as if in a breeze. Only one.

Damien shakes his head.

They eat entirely in silence, the monster ignoring Damien rather thoroughly over his spiced, vegetable stuffed bread. That is perfectly fine, so far as Damien is concerned. He does his best to ignore the monster over his own meal, despite himself.

"Queen Mira has requested your presence this evening, to take supper with her and a few other nobles, dignitaries, that sort," Damien says stiffly once they've finished, gathering their plates into a neat pile for the palace staff to collect later.

The monster narrows his eyes, his lip curling. "Fine," he says, somewhere near a growl. "If she insists."

She does not insist, Damien thinks sharply, barely biting his tongue. She is the Queen, Lord Arum should be honored that she would deign to grace him with such an invitation-

"That is not until the evening, however," he manages to continue through grit teeth. "Will I be accompanying you into the city today, Lord Arum?"

"Why would I need that?" he asks irritably, and Damien clenches his teeth even harder.

"I would hardly dare to guess," he says, his tone hopefully breezy and not still stiff. "Nor would I dare to assume that you should prefer to spend your time cooped up in this room alone, simply waiting for R- for Queen Mira's physician to return to the Citadel."

The monster blinks, then glances away, his frill fluttering oddly beside his neck and his scales- Damien is almost certain, this time, that he is not imagining it. The lizard's scales shift hue, a mottled pattern up his throat and on his cheeks shifting to a subtly brighter green.

"I do not see what there is to do besides wait, little knight," he mutters. "I do not desire any entertainment you think your city might provide while my home is dying, and I do not trust yourself or the citizens below not to attempt to slay me if I make some social misstep in the pursuit of such, which, as I have seen in the short time I have spent here already, I am very likely to do. I can hardly speak without committing offense. I dare not wander, lest I condemn myself by mistake."

Damien opens his mouth, then closes it again just as quickly. The monster almost seems- beneath his seething anger and that more subtle layer of sorrow Damien would prefer not to acknowledge, he almost seems self-conscious about his noticeable lack of human social graces.

"Well..." Damien says slowly, "If you do decide you would like to see more of the Citadel, I suppose that is precisely what I am here for. You would not be unprotected, and I think... I think you overstate the bloodthirst of the citizenry. Surely you saw, today, there were a number of other monsters in the market."

"Monsters under your bitter scrutiny," he growls, still not meeting Damien's eye. "No. I do not think I should like to risk my neck, even under your noble protection, oh brave Sir Knight."

Damien flushes again at the dripping sarcasm in Arum's voice, and then he turns to glare at the monster.

"There is no need to be so dour," Damien says, halfway snapping and halfway pleading. "The Queen herself has taken up your cause, as you wanted! Your swamp will be saved, because the most brilliant mind in the entirety of the Second Citadel - I can assure you of that personally - has been summoned to lend her skill. You should be grateful for what generosity you have been given even thus far."

"You would prefer me on my knees, little knight?" Arum spits, his teeth bared, and Damien manages - barely - not to splutter. "Have I not groveled thoroughly enough for your tastes?"

"No, I-" Damien shakes his head. "That isn't what I meant, I only- I only-"

"I understand," Lord Arum says stiffly, "that it is the fault of no one that your Queen could not provide me with the assistance I require at this very moment. I understand." His eyes flash, anger pulling quick across an anxiety that Damien cannot help but notice. "That does not mean that I have to pretend to be pleased about the delay."

"Queen Mira is dutiful and wise," Damien says, almost automatically, distracted by the monster's attention upon him. "She will do what is right, and she will do so in the proper way."

"And in the meantime," Arum says, looking away again, his gaze cast out the window towards the slow ascent of the sun. "In the meantime… my home suffers."

"I-" Damien stammers, but the monster does not turn towards him again. "I… am sorry," he says stiffly, and then Lord Arum scoffs.

"It is only us, now, little knight. There is no cause to pretend that you have a speck of care to spare for the suffering of either myself or my home."

"You…" Damien feels heat in his cheeks, feels inexplicable shame in his guts, feels sorrow rolling off of the monster in front of him in slow, undeniable waves. "Do... do not presume to know how I feel, Lord Arum."

"I do not need to presume," Arum says, his lip pulling into a sneer. "You have made your feelings rather intensely obvious."

Damien-

Damien supposes that he has. He swallows thickly, and then he gathers the dishes from their meal and turns back towards the door to his own temporary chambers.

"I... suppose I should leave you be, then. I'll accompany you to supper with the Queen in the evening," he says, only realizing how odd it is to say as the words leave him. "Until then- if you change your mind-" he reaches out, and raps his own knuckles off the stone beside the hidden door. "I will be... here, I suppose. I hope you will not be too bored in the meantime, Lord Arum."

The monster fails to look towards him again, his snout facing the window and his eyes distant, and he barely seems to notice when Damien takes his leave, precisely as unmoving as a statue until Sir Damien closes the door between them again.

[witchiswriting]

‘Tis the Damn Season Chapter 1

Summary: Pre-Apocalypse.  Adrielle left her town and Negan behind three years ago but when she comes back along with her feelings she found the man she couldn’t get over is moved on. Dealing with depression at the same time, could Adrielle find what she’s looking for?

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Depressed Main Character, Mental Illnes

Author’s Note: This is a story I came up with when I listened to Taylor’s Tis the Damn Season song. I don’t know how but the song painted a really clear picture for this story. So, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Also it’s my participation to @band--psycho​‘s Music Writing Challenge.

Pairings: Negan x Adrielle (OC)

Enjoying feeling of the melting snowflake on tip of your nose, you watched the town you could never leave behind. No matter how long it has been, this place has been with you all the time. Thinking about the Christmas dinners your mother served every year even though you were absent in all of them for the past 3 years. During those years you thought you were healed, or you made yourself believe it. The difference doesn’t matter, you’re here because of him. Because you can’t deny your feelings anymore. You miss the man you hurt the most.

After all the things that took place and all the disasters you left behind your departure, you couldn't control your feelings and fears anymore. So, you left LA for the holiday season and came back to spend Christmas with your family, and if you are lucky enough, with him.

In the past 3 years you thought if he moved on and found someone else who is worthy of his love. The possibility left a bitter taste in your mouth. You know you are being selfish but imagining him with some other woman makes your heart ache. So, you’d done what you do best, drowning yourself in meaningless relationship and casual sex yet it wasn’t enough to stop that nasty voice in your head, none of them were him.

Shutting down your cruel mind, you quickly pushed the thoughts away. You were standing in front of the door of your home, your parents’ home to be correct. You put on the best smile on your face and knocked the wooden surface.

In a rush the door opened, and you found your mom, Jane, in front of you, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. The years added a few wrinkles around her eyes, but her emerald green orbs shined with the same tenderness. Her hair was longer, and it suited her sharp features just right.

'Oh, thank goodness, you're finally here' Jane took you between her welcoming arms, surrounding you with that welcoming feeling you’d never forgotten, holding you tightly. 'Adrielle Pamela Wintringham! If you dare not coming back and visit us every year, you'll find me on your door with my bags. This is a serious threat miss!' She laughed into your raven hair.

Before being able to answer your mom, you heard a pair of very familiar footsteps. Your father, the only man you trust with your own life, is now standing right before you.

'Jane, leave the poor girl alone. If you keep saying shit like that, she will probably change her identity and start a new life who knows goddamn where.'  He joked, showing his pearly whites.

Leaving your mom, you took a big step and hugged your dad.  The break which lasted for 3 years made you miss your family more than you could ever imagine. 'Well, dad don't worry. I'll be coming back every year from now on. I missed you so much, guys.' You didn't even try to hold your tears back.

William laughed smoothly. 'C'mon Elle, let's get inside before we all get our asses frozen as shit.'

 Stepping into the house, you immediately went back to 3 years back. Nothing has changed. The beige couch you used to spend your days on is still located at the same place, the warm colour of the walls never failed to make you feel at ease, the shelves are still stuffed with your and your sister’s pictures. Though a new one caught your eye, she was standing with her volleyball team, holding the medal she probably won and next to him was the person you wanted to see most and avoid at the same time.

He had that charming smile on his lips, of course he has changed over the years, the salt and pepper beard took its place around his mouth. You remembered the feel of his stubble on your skin. ‘Fucking great’ you thought, years did him good. He was more handsome than you remembered, and you used to think it wasn’t possible.

Clearing her throat, Jane interrupted your thoughts with a soft tone. You knew she saw you staring at that picture but didn’t say anything and honestly you were grateful for that. Yes, you came back mostly because of him but it didn’t mean you were ready to face him even though through a picture in the first moments of your arrival.

'Baby, go change. The dinner will be ready in 10 and hopefully your wayward sister will be back by then.'

Making a fake offended face 'Where the hell is Andrea? I mean the Santa is back in town but she's out.' you joked slightly.

You knew you hit a sore spot when you parents shared a worried glance, they were still thinking about your mental struggles probably, but you wanted to prove that you’d beaten down the illness that chasing you since your childhood.

'Honey, she's out helping to the others with the giant Christmas tree which they put in the centre of the city.' William explained like it was nothing, but you knew your father too well to catch the tension in his baritone voice.

Not wanting to address the elephant in the room so you shook your head replying with a cheerful tone, 'Apparently nothing has changed. God I really missed this town.' The words slipped out from your mouth, but you weren't sure your parents bought it.

It's an old tradition that kept going on in your town for years and you have no doubt about Negan being there, helping everybody with a joy. He always loved this kind of stuff, you silently hoped this hasn't changed, and unfortunately Andrea is one of his best students.

Jane called from the dining room, letting you know that dinner is ready. Feeling thankful for distraction, you pulled a chair, took your usual spot in front of her.

Just as you were about to take a big bite from the delicious chicken, your troublemaker sister stepped in and made her presence known. She was looking at you with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

'YAY! The older one is back. I have so many things to tell you Adri, oh, by the way we're still having the dinner tomorrow night, right? There are 5 days to Christmas, and it would be a shame if we skip that famous tradition.' She let the words out from her lips with overjoy. Andrea has always been a social butterfly and on the contrary of kids her age she enjoyed hanging with adults.  

'Is there a special reason for mom to not throw the party this year?  Or is it my presence that bugs you little lady?' You said with a sassy tone before you could think about the sore subject you spotted on. As soon as you realised what you just said you kicked yourself internally.

'Don't worry babe, I already planned everything and told everyone. We're going to be so busy tomorrow night.' Thankfully, your mom ran to the rescue again and replied with nonchalance.

Beyond excited Andrea blundered without realization, ‘Oh great! That means Coach Negan is coming too.’’

For a moment everyone around the table didn't mutter a word and you heard your sister whispering 'oh shit' looking at her feet.

The awkward silence was starting to annoy you, so you sighed and decided to clear the air, at least with your family. 'Guys, I really appreciate your concern, but it's been years, we both are adults and what happened back then is water under the bridge. You can't prevent us from encountering each other. I'm pretty sure Negan wouldn’t have a problem with this too. I'm sure he's already moved on and living his life peacefully. I doubt he would turn his back and run as soon as he sees me. Also, I’m here to fix my past mistakes. I can’t do that if I avoid talking to him, right?’ You arched your left eyebrow, a faux smile on your lips, the tension you feel in your stomach could make you burst into tears and then make you laugh hysterically afterwards. You were trying your best to suppress this feeling.

Your mom examined your face with a suspicious look but didn’t pressure the matter further and raised her glass in a toast.

Quickly the heaviness in the air disappeared and left its place to cosy atmosphere.

You could feel your insides hurt from laughing too much at your sister’s adventures in the school.

The happy banter interrupted with the ringing doorbell. Andrea started getting up from her seat. ‘It’s probably Nancy, she forgot her folder in my room this morning.’

Before she could move forward you stood up. ‘If it’s okay with you I would like to answer the door. I missed her too since she practically grew up in our house.’

With a genuine smile you walked toward the door. Ready for greeting Nancy and chat with her after a couple of years. You loved her like your sister. Both of them always managed to cheer you up.

You met with a pair of hazel eyes instead of Nancy’s blue ones. Negan was standing before you just shocked as you were, staring at you with wide eyes.

You were speechless. You didn’t expect to face him this early, you’re caught off guard.

His lips curled upwards with a genuine smile. Trying to be polite and casual as possible he finally said something. ‘Oh, hi. I didn’t know you’re back.’

Shaking off the whirling emotions that made you dumbfounded. ‘Hi, uh yes I’m back for Christmas.’’ You said, managed to keep trembling off your voice.

You continue to stare at each other. There was so much you want to tell him, and you weren’t sure if you could stop yourself from your arms around his neck.

‘Elle, baby invite Nancy in. You’re going to freeze to death if you keep standing on the porch.’ Your father intervened before you made something stupid.

Your dad couldn’t hide the slight shock but shrugged it off quickly. ‘Hello Negan. Troublemaker daughter of mine forgot something again?’ He asked with a smirk on his lips.

Negan laughed, you wished you could keep the butterflies in your stomach cool. ‘Fuck, not this time William. Actually, I’m here to give you these cookies.’

Deciding to form a friendly banter with him and yourself you popped the question. ‘Wow, did Coach Negan learn how to cook finally?’ You teased slightly.

He bit his lower lip before answering your simple question. ‘I wish I could fucking say yes but no, Eleanor baked them.’

Yeah, he indeed moved on.

@negans-network​

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything. 

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim. 

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

 Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”  

         “All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

           “Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

           “Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

           “Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

           “It must be more than eighteen.”

           “Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

           “I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

           “Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

           Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

           “Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

           “I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

           “I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

           “Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

           “If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

           “Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

           “Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

           “Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

           It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

           Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

           Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

           “Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

           “Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

           “Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

           “Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

           “Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

           Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

           “We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

           “I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

           “I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

           “I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

           “Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

           “Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

           After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

           When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky.  She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

           Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

           Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

           “Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

           “I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

           Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

           “Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

           “Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

           “Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

           “Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

           “Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

           “What is your name?”

           “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

           “Good. When is your birthday?

           “March 23th, 1939”

           “Good, and who is the president?”

           “Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man.  She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

           Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

           The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

           After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

           ----------

           Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

           “What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

           “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

           “Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

           “It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

           “Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

           “That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

           “I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

           “He is; I know you’ll like him.”

           “I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes.  She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.