#merrill hugs him from behind

[xkatchy]

[shivunin]

barges into your ask box!! hello/goodbye hugs that linger for fenris and maria 👀?

Can't barge in if the door is open! Thanks, Zen c: I'll have you know that this was originally two thousand words longer before I reconsidered, so...here is the happy version instead c: (the prompt list)

(Words: 2,548)

A Fond Farewell

In the early days, Fenris cataloged Hawke’s mannerisms out of suspicion. She was a mage, after all, for all that she’d helped him without the promise of recompense. It mattered little that she seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve. There might be some trick to her—no, had to be some trick—and it was wisest to watch her so he would be warned if the betrayal ever came.

So: Fenris watched her smile at the others, the way she would wrinkle her nose when Varric told an especially bad joke, the way she tipped her chin back and laughed with her whole body when she was pleased. He watched the way she fought, as if she’d been born doing it and it came as an afterthought to her now. 

But most of all, Fenris saw the way Hawke was always reaching out for someone.

In the beginning, she would pull in Carver whenever she told a story about Ferelden, elbowing his side or resting a hand on his shoulder while she gestured with the other. Her brother seemed used to the contact and did not react at all when she did so, as if this behavior was to be expected from her. 

Fenris didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to; in the beginning, it was enough just to note that it was a habit of hers and move on.

Over time, her casual contact branched out to the others: she would drape her legs over Isabela’s lap when she was tipsy, and lean against Merrill’s side. She linked arms with Aveline when they walked, or rested an arm around Varric’s shoulder when one of them was telling a story. In those early days, there was plainly some awkwardness between her and the human mage—all of them saw it—but soon enough that faded, too, and she would prod Anders' shoulder when making some point or other as they walked.

It was as if she couldn’t help herself, as if she was actually reaching for something else and forever finding it in contact with others. 

More than any of these, Hawke always, always hugged her friends goodbye. 

Every one of them…except Fenris. 

On one of those early days, when they’d said long goodbyes outside the Hanged Man, she hugged the others and paused before him. Fenris stood on the periphery, watching her with narrowed eyes, and she surveyed him with a tilted head. 

“G’night, Fenris,” she said after a pause, smiling brightly, and reached behind her for her brother’s wrist, “Come on, Carver. Told you that girl wasn’t interested, or she’d be here by now.”

“But she said—” her brother began, already irritated, and the two of them walked away still arguing. 

Fenris, only mildly surprised, walked away without any further fanfare. He was not impressed by her decision to leave him be; he’d been indicating with every syllable of body language he had that he’d no desire to be touched. That she’d honored the unspoken request was good, but nothing especially notable—though, of course, he did file the interaction away with his other observations.

For a long time, this was how they parted: she would hug the others, perhaps even kiss their cheeks, and then she would pause before Fenris, smile at him, and say her goodnights. 

If he wondered what it might feel like to be touched by her, however briefly, outside the context of healing—well. He was the only one who needed to know what he wondered about when the lights were doused. 

It was at least a year before this habit changed, not until well after the disaster in the Deep Roads and the loss of her brother to the Wardens. There was sorrow, and a frantic span of time in which she adjusted to her newfound wealth and moved her mother to Hightown. During that time, Fenris began to wonder if she might be done with her old friends entirely. But no: only a few weeks after the move had commenced, Hawke was barging into Varric’s quarters with all the subtlety of a summer storm just she always did, and discarded her cloak over the back of a chair instead of on the coat rack. 

“Sorry,” she told the table at large, and settled onto the bench beside Fenris, “Didn’t mean to be late. Had to help a girl find her lost doll.”

“And you didn’t get mugged over it? Color me impressed, Hawke,” Varric said, dealing her in without a pause, “Haven’t missed much yet. Bela was telling us about her conquest of the week.”

“Oh, I’ve finished now,” Isabella said, rolling her eyes and lifting her tankard, “Not that I had any help, if you take my meaning.” 

Some small, hidden worry gradually lifted from Fenris’s shoulders at Hawke’s presence. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the others; some of them were perfectly tolerable. It was just—Hawke made sense of their group. If she had left for good…Well. He’d begun to wonder if it was wise to stay in the city; that was all. Such considerations seemed less reasonable when she was sitting at the table, nudging Bela with her elbow while she described her mother’s choice in decoration. 

In the small hours of the morning, when they finally parted ways, the group exchanged their long, messy goodbyes as usual. Only—this time, Fenris stepped forward and set a hand on her elbow when he might otherwise have stood at a distance.

“Goodnight, Hawke,” he said, immediately regretting the change when her eyes went wide at him. 

“Oh!” she said. It was foolish, it was absurd, but for a moment it felt like the whole world hung in the balance. 

Then, just as she had with the others, Hawke reached for him. She did not embrace him, but instead set a hand on his shoulder and took a step closer. They were rarely so near each other unless one of them was bleeding, and then they usually had more urgent things to worry about. Fenris wondered how he’d never noticed before that her eyelashes were so dark and fine, or that smile line bracketed her mouth even when she wasn’t smiling. 

“Goodnight, Fenris,” she said, the lines around her mouth deepening, and then she dropped her hand and turned away, reaching for Aveline’s elbow. 

“Aveline,” she was already saying, unperturbed, “I have a question about a fine point of city law.”

“Maker, what now?” the other woman asked warily. 

“If one is nude in one’s own courtyard—” Hawke began, her voice trailing off as they walked away. 

Fenris stood for a moment, watching them, abruptly aware that he would need to walk up the same set of stairs to go home. Usually, he would be well up them before she even finished saying goodbye to the others. It felt…odd, somehow, to trail her home, if only because she followed the same route he did now. 

Best wait a moment, he thought, and caught the dwarf’s speculative glance when he turned. 

“What?” Fenris asked, pausing, and Varric shook his head. 

“Oh, nothing at all,” he said, turning for the door, “Goodnight, Fenris.”

“Yes,” Fenris said, and decided it would be best to round a corner before giving Hawke a lead up the stairs. 

It had been fine. 

It had been—it had just been a goodbye. She did it constantly; it meant nothing, and it meant nothing that he stood around the corner for nearly fifteen minutes thinking about what her hand on his shoulder had been like, and what he might have felt if she’d touched bare skin instead. 

In nights that followed, Fenris decided that it would be stranger to go back to the way they'd been. He would simply have to accept that cursory touches were part of his evenings from now on. Aveline was increasingly busy with the guard, and it seemed increasingly foolish to trail behind Hawke like a lost pup at the end of the night. Fenris walked with her instead, all the long way up the stairs to Hightown, parting at her door. This was not a problem; he’d have to walk that way regardless, and Hawke was good company. 

Goodbyes took place at her front door, between the two of them alone. The longer this remained their routine, the more casual it felt to talk with his hand resting on her shoulder or elbow. She went from carefully touching his shoulder to patting his chest or nudging his hip, and Fenris didn’t stop her. When she finally reached up to embrace him, it felt natural, normal, even inevitable. 

But here was the problem: Hawke had a habit of continuing conversations while she hugged the others goodbye, and Fenris was no exception. If she was midway through a point about something when she reached for him, she would keep on talking into his ear until she was finished or one of them pulled away. 

One of them—it was always Hawke who pulled away; Fenris found that he did not have the urge to let go of her so quickly, even if she’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders for several minutes. It was nothing; just another quirk of hers. There was no doubt in his mind that this was true. 

One evening, after nearly two years of this, she embraced him to say goodbye and spent at least ten minutes explaining one of the finer points of the horrible play they’d just finished watching. 

For his part, Fenris had missed much of it, so focused on not looking at Hawke that he hadn’t heard any of the dialogue and had only minimally absorbed the actual events onstage. He’d no idea how he’d wound up in this position after all that; he felt hot and itchy now, desperate to dance away and put distance between them. The longer she held on, the stronger the feeling grew, until at last he cleared his throat and interrupted her. 

“Hawke,” he said, and just that. 

It was easy enough to grasp her waist and set her away from him, and she let go without protest, wincing faintly. 

“Sorry!” she said, taking several steps back. 

In the light of the flames outside her front door, he could see the flush on her cheeks. 

“It is…fine,” he said, also taking several steps back, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said faintly, and spun on her heel for the door. 

Fenris walked away before he had to think any harder about the interaction, but it was no use. He could still feel her breath against his neck, the lines of boning in her bodice pressed against his hands, and he couldn’t seem to banish the foreign urge that had seized him while he’d held her. He didn’t want to kiss Hawke—did he? 

He paced in his room for a time, scowling hard at his own feet over the broken tile. 

His clothes smelled like her. 

No; he would not think of it.

Hawke should be seeing someone else, someone who wasn’t on the run. Surely there was someone out there who could give her a better life, who would make her happy.

She’d blushed. He’d never seen Hawke blush. 

No, no; think of something else.

Surely she did the same thing to the others when she was in the middle of some explanation; surely this had meant nothing in particular, even if she had flirted with him in the past. 

Why could he still feel her in his arms? 

Frustrated, Fenris dragged a hand back through his hair. This was—it was simply an aberration. That was it. The next time they saw each other, she would say goodbye in her usual manner and that would be—it would be fine. 

More than fine. Yes. This would not be a problem.

Later that week, the two of them walked together up the stairs from Lowtown, companionably discussing the benefits of upgrading one’s armor to a higher class of steel. It seemed an ordinary enough evening, but when they reached her door she immediately turned toward the manor. 

“‘Night, Fenris,” she said cheerfully, and shut the door behind her. 

Fenris froze, hands slightly raised, and stared after her for a moment. 

This was…fine. 

Fenris had gone a very long time not touching Hawke. It should matter very little now that she hadn’t said goodbye. It shouldn’t bother him, and she was not obligated to—to—well, she could do whatever she wished. That was all. It was none of his affair. 

But she walked away without touching him the next night, and three days after that when they all met for drinks, and…

He’d had no idea how important that simple gesture had been to him until it was gone, and now he felt its absence as keenly as he felt the absence of his blade when he set it aside at night. The next time they saw each other, Fenris approached her door with grim determination.

“—and that’s why it never made any sense to me at all that there could be werewolves in Ferelden,” she was saying, waving a hand as she spoke, “I don’t care what the stories say, it’s illogical at best.”

“Quite,” Fenris said stiffly, and she glanced up at him, blowing a black curl away from her forehead. 

He wished, intensely, that he’d never noticed the way her lips pursed when she did that. 

“Everything alright?” she asked as they paused at her door. She was already angled toward the door, ready to walk away from him. Fenris sought an answer, but came up with nothing; he stepped forward and embraced her instead, his body moving before his mind could properly disagree. 

She sucked in a breath when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, but she returned the gesture readily enough. It was different holding her like this; she was slightly shorter than him, though Fenris rarely noticed. When she wasn’t reaching up for him, the top of her head rested just below his chin. 

There was—there was a scar on the top of her head that he’d never noticed before, arching across the center part of her hair. For a strange moment, Fenris was seized by the urge to press his lips to the point where the two lines met. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head instead, and she relaxed against him all at once. 

It was…nice. 

He admitted it to himself, tightening his arms slightly. It was pleasant to hold her; he enjoyed it. He liked the place where her arms had settled around his back. He liked how warm she was where the exposed skin of his upper arms touched hers. He liked the way her hair smelled, and he particularly liked the way she was holding him—as if she liked it, too. 

This was…Fenris needed to think about this. Slowly, reluctantly, he loosened his grip and stepped back. 

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice rough, “Hawke.”

“Goodnight, Fenris,” she said, her hands falling slowly until they rested at her sides again. 

Fenris took a deep breath, considering and discarding several other things to say. Instead, he smiled faintly—the best he could manage under the circumstances, just a quirk at one side of his mouth—and turned to walk away. 

He could have sworn he heard her sigh behind him—but perhaps that was only wishful thinking.

[harringtonswriting]

Can you write a Steve blurb/fic (whatever you want to) about pumpkin picking with “you’ve got leaves in your hair” from the prompt list, please? <3

ahh, thank you so much for requesting this! 💕 it was so cute, and so much fun to write!! i hope you enjoy it!!

...

“Y’know, when I said I wanted to go pumpkin picking, I meant you and me,” Steve says, sighing through his nose. His breath comes out his nose in a stream of steam in the chilly October air, swirling and dissipating in front of him. It comes out as more of a grumble, and you smile at him as you loop your arm through his.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up in front of the kids,” you tell him, and his grumbling continues as you walk towards the group of teens running through Merrill’s pumpkin patch. As soon as Steve had thrown his car in park, they’d all escaped with Dustin leading the charge to find the perfect pumpkin. Thankfully, due to Mike’s growth spurt and how distinctive his mass of black hair is, you can keep an eye on where they’re all inspecting the pumpkins across the field by the time you, Steve, and Robin make your way from his car to where the pumpkins start.

Robin inserts herself between you and Steve, replacing Steve’s arm in yours with her own before she presses into your side. Steve moves to ruffle her hair, and she sticks her tongue out at him before elbowing him in the side. The cool air stings your nose, but you can’t help the grin on your face at seeing the two of them interact. You crane your neck slightly, seeing Lucas ruffling Will’s hair and Dustin and Mike gesturing animatedly at each other with their hands as they traded words you couldn’t hear.

“Could’ve picked a warmer day to come, though,” Robin comments, and you can’t help but tug at her thin jean jacket she’s layered over one of her many button up tops. “It’s my favourite jacket! It’s got all these cool pins on it, see? I have a new one, too, did I tell you about it? Nancy got it for me.” She launches into an explanation as to how Nancy got the pin and what it means, and you listen as she pulls you along through the rows of pumpkins. Steve huffs and kicks at the dirt with the toe of his shoe as he dutifully walks behind the two of you, though he actually takes the time to inspect the pumpkins to see what ones might be nice to take home together.

The sounds of laughter and excited chatter from both the kids you brought and the other families wandering around blend into a buzzy backdrop as Robin’s story winds down to a close, and she excuses herself to see if she can steal Jonathan’s camera from Will, who’d borrowed it (with or without permission, you didn’t know) to document the trip. You don’t try to stop her, and Steve yells out to be careful where she’s stepping before both of his arms are wrapping around your waist to bring you into a hug from behind. You lean into him, watching the barely controlled chaos unfolding before you in the pumpkin patch, and take in a deep breath of cold air as you savour this moment.

Steve rather reluctantly lets go of your waist to take your hand in his as you bend down to examine the pumpkins at your feet. You should probably pick out at least one, so that you have something to carve later and stick on his front porch for the world to see.

A cool breeze whips by, stirring up the dirt and the leaves from the nearby trees that have floated down into the pumpkin patch. You stand up, and they swirl around the two of you for a moment, and you feel as if you’re caught up in some kind of movie as the beautiful yellows and reds and oranges move through the air, leaves tickling as they brush past your skin before they’re gone. You turn to look at Steve, who’s pulling his scarf tighter around his neck against the chill, and you notice that some of the leaves have made a home on his head.

“You’ve got leaves in your hair,” you say, and you reach your hand up to grab the red and orange foliage sticking out of his slightly stiff brown hair—his hairspray works wonders, you’d have to admit, at keeping his hair in place and looking good all day long. Your fingers scrape his scalp as you do so, gently but not accidentally, and Steve leans into your touch with a smile on his face. It’s a smile that you’ve come to realize he reserves just for you, where the corners of his eyes crinkle and one side of his mouth is pulled up just a bit higher than the other, and his nose scrunches just slightly. It’s almost unbearable how pretty your boyfriend is, made up of warm toned browns and golds, standing here in front of you, and you feel an overwhelming wave of love and fondness wash over you at knowing he’s yours and you’re his that you bring him in for a kiss.

His lips are wind bitten chapped from the cold, and they’re slightly cold as they meet yours. You’re quick to warm them up, though, as your hands wind around his shoulders. One of his comes up to cup the back of your neck, his cold calloused fingertips sending small shivers down your spine as they seek out your warmth. The kiss is soft and perfect, you think, just like Steve.

“Hey, Steve! We found the Great Pumpkin!”

The shout breaks you out of your reverie, and you break your kiss and both turn to see Dustin and Lucas holding up an absolutely enormous pumpkin between the two of them. You have no idea where they found one that big but they look so proud of themselves as they pose for Will so he can take a photo with Jonathan’s camera. Robin is laughing and egging the kids on, having obviously woken up and decided today was not going to be the day she gives Steve some peace, and you can’t help your own laugh at the sight. Steve groans, and you see him start to walk towards the teens with his hand outstretched.

“No! No way that’s going in my car, put it back right now!”

[fatale-distraction]

Hey, happy Friday! I submit "hugging from behind" for anyone you feel like writing :)

Here’s some more Merrill/Fenris for @dadrunkwriting

Fenris flinched, every muscle in his body tensing, as something small, soft, and presumably stupid crashed into his back. Lyrium sparked through his veins and over his skin for an instant before he reined it back in, each tendon straining with the effort as scrawny arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed.

“Do you have a death wish, mage?” he snapped as he stumbled to a halt. The mountain air was cool and crisp, something of a relief after a lifetime in crowded, stinking cities, especially Kirkwall. But the vast openness had him particularly on edge.

The amount of time Merrill took to think about it before she answered grated on his nerves. It was a rhetorical question. Mostly. It didn’t require this much consideration.

“Not really,” she replied at last, light voice muffled against his back.

“Then why, for the love of Andraste, are you touching me?” She still hadn’t let go of him. Fenris could have flung her off easily, elbowed her in the face, done something. But he didn’t. For some reason, likely insanity, driven out of his mind by the idiotic situations Hawke tended to drag him into.

Merrill began leaning backward, dragging the other reluctant elf with her a few steps. She peeked over his shoulder, and pointed, still holding him around the waist. Green eyes narrowed in irritation, peering in the direction she gestured.

“It’s a tree.”

“It’s a sylvan,” she whispered, too close to his ear, walking them backward down the slope a few more steps, then pulling him down under an outcropping of granite. Sure enough, after a few breathless moments of staring at the motionless oak tree, it suddenly gave a very canine shake, scattering loose leaves and birds like droplets of water.

“Kaffas…” breathed Fenris.

“I know another path we can take to meet up with Hawke,” Merrill assured him. He twisted his head around, trying to glare down at her.

“Why are you still touching me?” he demanded.

The Dalish girl laughed a little. “You’re soft, and you smell good.”

Fenris snarled. “I am NOT soft!”

This had no effect on Merrill. She just squeezed a little tighter, then at last released him. “Suit yourself,” she said, leading the way back down the mountain.

He stared after her for a moment, cheeks turning red, gnawing on the inside of his mouth. He made an aggravated noise, then stormed after her.

[sweetmage]

I already posted this Tamlen art yesterday, but I'm posting again because there is now a fic (fluff to angst to happy ending) to accompany it 😊

AO3 link, or scroll/click "expand" to read💗

There is also more context for this AU below the cut but it spoils some of the fic. Enjoy!

----

Springing forward, twirling around roots, dipping below the sway of stray branches—Savil's feet found the well-worn path and his eyes found Tamlen.

Fresh-faced and eager, Tamlen,too, tumbled over loose stones, so lost in the blissful energy of freedom and youth that he never once turned to see if his hunting partner followed.

"Hey!" Savil called above the bubbling stream, arms outstretched until they caught Tamlen's shoulder. He was puffing, breathless, but the giggles came quick when Tamlen turned to greet him. 

"About time you showed up."

"When you run like that, you'll scare all the rabbits. This is why you need me around," Savil had chided.

And he smiled, bright and big and lively in a way that said 'Yes, I do. Of course I do.'

And Savil smiled back, just as fond, just as wide. "Don't forget me next time, alright?"

And Tamlen didn't. 

They found themselves, as they often did, at each others' side. This time on the edge of the precipice overlooking the vast woods, sheltered beneath a canopy of late-evening stars. 

Bright-eyed, newly vallaslin-ed, just eighteen each—they'd lost themselves to song and merry chatter and pebbles skipped over a slow-moving stream. 

They kept an arbitrary score: ten points for style, three for distance this time, five for it last time. Tamlen triumphed, in the end, because Savil made it so. Because the "prize" was burning an eager hole through his pocket. 

"Enough gloating. Hold out your hand," he instructed, already holding out his own, fist balled and palm down. 

Their trust was clear and unspoken. Tamlen's hand was outstretched, risking insects and trickery, before he even bothered to ask "why?" 

The tips of their fingers brushed oh so gently as he'd filled his upturned palm.

Savil watched his hand unfurl, the pendant within catching moonlight and glinting as brilliantly as Tamlen's grin.

"For me?"

"I shouldn't reward all the trouble that you cause, but when you're away serving punishments, you must get lonely. I thought it would be nice if you had a way to think of me. To not feel so alone."

He turned it over in his hand, closed his fingers around it like a hug, and he smiled again, dashing and dazzling like he always did. "Ma serannas. I'll hold on to it forever. I'll cherish it."

"I hope you'll remember me the next time things get tough."

And he did, but just barely.

His thoughts and memories had peeled away like putrid flesh and tattered cloth, but the pendant still hung. The blood and rot had dampened its luster to something dull, something lifeless. 

But it still hung.

And so did Tamlen, as limp and still and cold in Savil's arms as the gem round his neck. 

"I'll fix this, Tam," Savil—weathered and worn and broken—swore aloud to the darkness, voice raw with anguish. 

The moon fell heavy and mocking, its faint glow seeping past clouds and giving light to Tamlen's slack mouth, and festering skin, and maddened eyes that projected the same horror they must have witnessed.

The flames of camp were a distant flicker behind them, duty and promise deserted. Savil couldn't bury what still breathed, what could yet live, and he couldn't stand by those who would stop him.

 

"You must stay with me, lethallin. You promised. You promised we'd be together for the rest of our days. I need more days with you, Tam. Don't forget… You promised me!"

But Tamlen forgot.

The one who'd promised otherwise had dissolved and reabsorbed into something else. Whatever chewed away at his mind had imprisoned him in a way even Merrill's weeping wounds couldn't touch. 

Contorted in unfathomable pain, screaming like a tormented beast, the "cured" Tamlen emerged from his cage a writhing husk.

Thrashing and spitting, he flailed against what wasn't there as though desperate to tear the very air itself apart. 

Seven years of trial and hope... for this. 

Seven long, miserable years without Tamlen. 

Seven wasted years.

Despair clawed its way to the surface and dragged Savil under. All he could do was cradle Tamlen, endure his wretched howls and the shredding of dirty, untrimmed nails against his skin. And beg. He could only beg.

"Please… please…." He pressed the sincerity and desperation of each word into Tamlens hairless scalp with a kiss, hoping against hope that the words might somehow penetrate some tiny fragment of his trapped soul and set him free. "Please. Please come back, please remember me..."

And through a miracle or sheer luck, on one distant day Tamlen remembered. 

An overnight rainstorm swept through the meadow, but now the midday sunlight danced over the lingering droplets, making the rolling fields sparkle anew. 

The grass parted for Savil's feet as he stumbled headlong across the uneven ground, his untethered heart soaring free.

And there was Tamlen at the crest of the hill, waiting for him.

As he reached his side, Tamlen flung himself at him so emphatically that it almost sent them sailing. With his face tucked into the crook of Savil's neck, Tamlen teased fondly. "About time you showed up."

"Wouldn't miss it," replied Savil, all smiles and warmth, his hands reaching tentatively for those familiar shoulders. "More importantly, I brought food."

Tamlen pulled back, radiant and shining, his sporadic tufts of golden hair gently tossed by the wind. His scarred features were alight, his smile safe and genuine, "What would I do without you?"

"Starve, most likely," Savil deadpanned. "That's why you need someone like me around. 

"I do," he admitted, toying with the pendant that hung by a new cord. "I really do."

He fished a neatly wrapped parcel from pocket and placed it into Tamlen's hands. "Made your favorite."

"Ma serannas, vhenan. I won't forget this," Tamlen swore reverently. And then, more softly, "And I won't forget you again. Promise."

They settled in the grass side by side, lost to song and merry chatter, content to simply be where they were.

For some additional context, this is based on my AU where Tamlen is rescued by Savil (my Warden, his friend and love interest) during the attack on the camp. After telling the others hes going to go bury his friends, Savil instead deserts the Wardens and flees with a still living Tamlen in favor of trying cure him.

Tamlen remains as a ghoul (caged for their mutual safety, but well looked after) for the next seven years.

The cure finally comes in the form of Merrill, once again tempted to blood magic after the discovery that her two closest friends, the ones she'd presumed dead for years, still live.

As with all matters of blood magic, there are consequences. However, the steepest drawbacks come as a result of the 7 year ordeal itself. The taint was removed, the singing silenced, but Tamlen remained incoherent, void of memories, yet so painfully aware now of his surroundings, of the pain.

His recovery is long and arduous, memories and faculties slowly returning. But, with the love and support of his clan, with Savil and Merill at his side, he does recover and at last he smile, and taste joy, and be thankful to wake up every morning, living and loved.

[jellydishes]

It wasn't much longer afterwards until their climb ever upwards ended at a stone altar, one placed at the edge of a cliff over a yawning drop. "There are words," Merrill said upon looking at it, gently lifting the wooden amulet they had received what felt like years, lifetimes ago from Carver's hands when he offered it to her. "A moment."

Bethany and the others gathered close behind her in a ragged semicircle and watched as Merrill placed the amulet upon the altar's uneven surface before placing her hand perhaps a foot over top of it. "Hahren na melana sahlin," she said in a clear, rising voice, drifting that hand from side to side and turning it in precise ways. "Emma ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenara na revas."

Bethany had been listening from her place at the back of their little group. Her blood had already been thrumming with tension at hearing the language of her father again, but then the sky erupted with a blinding golden light that sent everyone but Merrill staggering backwards. Merrill simply stood with her arms spread wide as Bethany lifted her staff and shouted questions into the suddenly roaring winds. Even she wasn't sure what her words had been, and it didn't matter. Not when that light began to shrink and move and condense into two familiar wing-like shapes curved about each other, before they began to lower towards the cliff.

"Fuck," Bethany breathed as the light flared, and then there before her stepped a familiar person whose white hair had been partially twisted into horned shapes, wearing studded red leather and a growing smile. "Oh, fuck."

"Ah, and here we are," said Flemmeth, the witch of the wilds, now standing tall and proud before her once again.

Bethany started to turn partway away, then back. Her mouth dropped open, and Bethany could only stutter for several seconds. She pressed a hand to her mouth and shuddered at the unexpected and very visceral reminder of that day outside Lothering, and of Marian. Bethany could feel Flemmeth's eyes on her as she groaned and hugged herself, nausea and dread roaring up her throat. She thought she could smell flowers as she struggled to get it under control, and that reminder of her father's death too, was too much. Far, far too much. "How are you here?" She managed to grit out between her teeth as Merrill bent on one knee and said something in a string of a language Bethany no longer understood, if she ever had.

Another lurch in her chest.

"One of the People, I see," Flemmeth was saying. "So very young and bright. Do you know who I am, beyond that title?"

Merrill did not look up. "I know only a little."

"Then stand. The people bend their knee too quickly." Flemmeth then looked up at the rest of them for the first time, or at least her and Carver, who had come up behind her to lightly grip her arm. This time, she didn't protest. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half expected to see my amulet end up in a merchant's pocket."

Bethany's smile ached. "No one wanted to buy it," she said on automatic. "Maybe because it has a witch inside?"

Flemmeth raised snowy brows. "Just a piece! A small piece. But it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

Bethany frowned. That name struck something of a bell, but there were more important matters at hand.

"Why did you need us to bring you here?" Carver asked when she only shook her head. "You fly. Obviously. Why not just do that instead of waiting on the words of a few random refugees you picked up in the backwater of an even more backwater country?"

"Because I have an appointment to keep! And because I did not want to be followed. You snuggled me here quite nicely."

Bethany's frown deepened, even as behind them she heard Alistair and Varric begin to whisper something amongst themselves that included the words, "Oh, they know the lizard."

"Dragon! Great big whacking thing with wings and an attitude and, uh. Decorative choices."

"Believe me, I met an archdemon. I know the difference."

She turned her eyes away from their direction and looked back just as Carver was saying, "-have told us what we would face. Warned us about the undead and- And Kirkwall's everything."

"Did I trick you?" Flemmeth asked. "I asked you to bring the amulet, and you did. If I thought it such an easy task, I might have asked anyone. But you have succeeded where others would not."

"You have plans, I take it?" Bethany hurried to ask while Carver looked torn between several very different expressions.

Flemmeth looked back at her with a smoke that was difficult to parse. "Destiny awaits us both, dear child. We have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice. We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

"Cheap advice, from a dragon," Varric drawled from Merrill's other side, followed by a quiet, "Ow, that was my foot."

"We all have our challenges," was Flemmeth's only answer.

Bethany shifted uncomfortably, and slid her eyes to Carver and the others and then back to Carver. "We're going to regret bringing her here," she said. Too many things going wrong in too many ways could hinge on this moment. There was the threatening specter of guilt at yet another mistake looming large in her future, accompanied by the cold, sinking feeling of shame that curdled low in her belly.

The witch clicked their tongue at Bethany, but then they looked to Carver, as well. "Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me."

Bethany stiffened, but Flemmeth had already turned their gaze to Merrill. "As for you, child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

Merrill merely bowed her head, stretching one arm out in a gesture Bethany didn't understand. "Ma seranas, Asha'bellanar."

Flemmeth was already turned away, facing the edges of the cliff with their head lifted towards the wind. "Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks. And my sympathy." Without another word, the witch dissolved into light so bright it hurt to look at, but Bethany didn't turn away. She kept staring even as her eyes burned with tears until they started to pour down her cheeks.

"Bethany? Sunshine? Are you all right?" Asked someone some time later, and Bethany gave a jerk when she realized that her mind must have wandered somewhere else.

"Bethy? Da'vhenan?"

Bethany looked back. Her cheeks were still wet, and she lifted a hand to impatiently scrub at them. "You know how it is," she joked weakly, not quite looking at her conversational partner. "Look at someone too bright and it's hard to do anything else."

There was a moment of silence, then a short laugh and a hand patted her on the arm, low enough that it had to be- Oh. It was Varric. Of course it was. "Let's get this done," she said, moving past him.

[rosella-writes]

Happy friday, which is also dadwc!! For a prompt, I would like to send: Hawke/Merrill, “You always stop at the same part, when it’s very beautiful and interesting.”

Thank you so much!! I've not written them before and Merrill's voice is hard for me, so here's some very rough Act 3 bonding on the Wounded Coast for @dadrunkwriting

Rated: T for mention of family loss Words: 590

~~~

“You always stop at the same part, when it’s very beautiful and interesting.”

Emrys glanced down at Merrill, who had laid her head on his knee. He carded his fingers through her hair — grown out a bit now, and loose of its braids — and leaned forward to stir the fire. It spat sparks up into the dusky sky. 

“I don’t know about beautiful, Merrill.”

“Oh but it is!” she insisted. Her foot began to bounce in the grass, as it did when she got agitated or excited. “We managed to get ahead of the Blight, and rebuilt in the Free Marches. I never saw it with my own eyes. Was it really so bad? All wasting and brown death? The Brecilian was so green, it’s hard to imagine it dying back and — oh I’m babbling again.”

“Don’t mind it,” Emrys told her. “I’d rather listen to you talk.”

She huffed and turned to glare up at him. Her eyes were very green, and shone with a mirrorlike flash in the dim light. “You aren’t distracting me that easily. I want the rest of your story, ma vhenan.”

He shrugged noncommittally, then leaned back until his back rested once again against his mabari’s side. Egg huffed in his sleep. “Usually left it to Varric to tell them. To make up what he wanted. Feels weird to say what happened out loud.”

“But you met Asha’bellanar!” Merrill groaned. “Just as I did, but she cares about you! What did you do in the before times? To earn her trust?”

His hand slid from her hair to the slim lines of her back. She was like a limp, warm cat, curled against his side. “Killed an ogre.”

“No no! Not like that, you said you left Lothering, described it, and then went quiet. What happened?”

He shrugged again. “Killed an ogre, Merrill. We’d met Aveline and Wesley, Wesley threatened Bethany so I threatened him back, and finally we decided to keep going towards the Wilds. That’s when we pushed on and got to the top of this burnt rise and —”

His next words choked him. Merrill’s eyebrows furrowed with her omnipresent worry, and her thin fingers plucked at the placket of his jacket. 

“Ma vhenan, you’re alright.”

He swallowed. “Right. Yeah. Um, well, we got to the top and there was this ogre up there, charging towards us. Bethany’s twin, my little brother, Carver, leapt in the way.”

“Oh.”

Her little noise carried such weight behind it, with more sympathy than he could bear. He didn’t look at her. “Mother blamed me. We had to leave him, after I killed the ogre. It was so huge, he didn’t stand a chance. He gave me time.”

“It wasn’t for nothing.” There was no question in her voice, just soft assurance.

“Doesn’t matter, Merrill,” he said. “He’s dead. So’s Mother and Bethany. Didn’t matter in the end.”

Merrill’s silence felt heavy, expectant. He looked at her, finally, and found her staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“Maybe this is the abyss Flemeth warned me about,” he muttered.

Merrill moved, all limbs, and clasped him tight about his waist. She hugged him as tightly as her thin arms could manage, grunting out her effort. “Now now,” she scolded. “There’ll be no jumping. Not while I’m here. I’ll follow you right in.”

Emrys settled his arms around her, glad for her bruising grip keeping him together. He pressed a kiss onto her scalp. “I know, Merrill. Love you.”

"Hmph. Don't forget it, either. It'd be rude."

[blarrghe]

A Complicated Match

Ch. 1: Date Nights and Charger Fights

Rating: E | Category: M/M | Words: 9412 | Chapters 1/?

Dorian Pavus met the love of his life, quite accidentally, on a dating app called Matchsies. He resisted and he failed, he fell and he learned, and now he's actually... he's quite happy, impossible as it seems. But he is still from Tevinter, he is still avoiding his parents' calls, and he still hasn't told Taren everything.

Any minute now, something is going to ruin this.

Chapter Snippet:

They’d gotten through the winter together with regular and casual visits to one another's apartments, with the occasional dinner at Merrill’s and volunteer events at the centre, with conversations over coffee in the basement of the university library, with ease. Almost a full year, and Dorian had more or less stopped agonising over the unseen limit to their days together. He had a routine, classes on a tight schedule and a book to finish on a deadline and date nights, and drinks with friends. He had someone in his life whom he could tell his coworkers about, whom he could invite to the faculty dinner. 

Dorian met Taren later that same evening at the grocery store between the tattoo shop and Taren's apartment, part of the date night routine. Taren was wearing a loose, faded grey t-shirt and his warm auburn hair was still tied back from work, tucked away sheepishly behind his ears and wound into a loose bun. But he glowed in the sunlight. He shone with a smile. He met Dorian with a hug and told him about his day. They strolled leisurely through the aisles. They picked out spices and leafy vegetables and Taren absently tossed a bottle of cheap shampoo into his cart. Dorian put it back. 

“Hey! I need that.” 

“You are not buying grocery store brand shampoo.” 

“Why not? I need shampoo.” 

Dorian shook his head. “You may as well wash your hair with dish soap.” 

Taren shrugged. “Soap is soap.” 

“Says the man with the fancy laundry detergent.” Dorian rolled his eyes, and turned back towards the short aisle of drugstore product shelves within the grocery store, scanning the selection. 

“Oh yeah, need more of that too.” Taren said behind him, but Dorian could hear his spreading grin. “Guess I’ll be washing my hair with —” 

Dorian picked up a slightly more expensive bottle of still-too-generic shampoo and handed it to Taren before he could finish his rebuttal. “You have curly hair. You could at least get the one marked for curls,” he noted. 

“Like it’s going to make a difference.” Taren shrugged and dropped the new bottle into his cart. 

“I suppose we’ll have to find out,” Dorian continued, “if only someone would ask you somewhere nice, give you an opportunity to clean up and let your hair down…” He smirked. 

Taren chuckled in response. “You have something in mind?” 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Many things, amatus,” he quipped, making Taren chuckle again. But even with the ease of it all, it still strained his nerves a little to do the next part. “There’s a work function in a couple of weeks, if you’d like to join me,” he said. 

Taren just smiled and agreed.  They went back to his place, they cooked dinner and talked. They kissed on his couch and then took to his bed. They laughed. They — he supposed he should say they made love. It was perfect and he was accustomed to it. He would never cease to be amazed by it.

[pbandjesse]

I am very excited that my embroidery commission is completely done!! All I have to do now is sew a patch on. To cover up the threads on the back. But the embroidery itself and the washing away of the paper is done and I'm thrilled.

And today was a pretty good day. My lip hurt a lot again. It got really scabby overnight and when I woke up it hurt a lot. So it was pretty inflamed. And try as I might to not touch it with my tongue all the time I can't leave it alone. Which I'm sure isn't helping. But I tried my best and left here feeling okay.

There was a bunch of traffic out in the world but I still got to the museum on time. There were two people milling around in the parking lot waiting to go into the building. And the door was already unlocked so I went in and said good morning to James. And then went to get ready.

I feel like I hadn't seen anyone in forever. So I was super excited to see them. I was happy to see Estelle and Joel and Merrill made a big deal about us being there. I ended up bringing up to Mike about how I couldn't find the sources for the pressure cooker and he was able to find the patent number and send it to me. And that was perfect. So I'm really glad I got to come in and talk to somebody. I feel like I did that project like two weeks ago and I haven't been in that long. And it was just really nice to see everyone.

I had a really easy day. All I was there for was to watch Michael to make sure he was okay. And he was totally fine. I had a few notes for him but nothing that he can't incorporate. I ended up helping one of the new people, Emma, who is very sweet. But was clearly a little flustered. Was their first time doing D by themselves. And I think they did good but maybe could benefit from being watched one more time.

I texted Jessica to let her know that and wiki both agreed on a couple notes that I had about how she was trained and things that I thought might have been lost in communication. But the kids that we had today were pretty nice. Though the first group was super on the ball and really understood everything. Joel's group in the second group was apparently running super behind in the teacher kept taking the entire class for bathroom breaks during the first program so they were losing like 15 minutes at a time. To the point where we didn't even start the program until 15 minutes after we were supposed to start it. So everything felt very truncated. And it was a little nerve-wracking because when two people are learning having the timing be all wrong was not helpful. But we did our best. And everyone got to do everything that they were supposed to. Even if the timing was weird.

I mostly just had fun talking to my friends. I was in a really good mood. I was happy to be there. I was feeling good. After how sore I was yesterday I was a little concerned. Besides my mouth hurting everything else was great.

After the kids left I went upstairs to do oysters. And I ended up showing Emma how to do them as well. They took to it no problem. But then all of a sudden over the intercom we hear James directing which school to leave first. Because apparently it took forever to get the schools out of the building because they were all leaving at the same time. And they were all trying to beat the other group out so there was just like a mess of a traffic jam at the door. I'm glad I wasn't a part of it because it sounds very stressful.

So I just put on music for everybody and we sat and did all the oysters. And just about 2:00 we started heading out.

James had come up to ask if they could borrow a fork from my backpack and I made them give me a hug and I'm glad they did because when I went to the desk to say goodbye they weren't there. Instead Merrill was there watching it for them while they were in a meeting. And I did the same thing I always do where I allowed the exclaim hey you're not my husband! And Merrill goes what I'm not!? And it's very silly. But we ended up talking for a few minutes and I helped her out with some weird thing that happened in a sale for the gift shop. And then Emma was there and I noticed she was looking at the tracker for the bus and I was like hey what's up. And they said that they were waiting for the bus but it's the banner route and it runs very infrequently. I was like where do you live. Mount Vernon. Perfect I can take you home if you don't mind if we stop at the dollar store first. They were very excited.

And we end up having just like a really lovely talk the entire time. I told them stories about James's accident and my accident and they told me their accident stories. They moved here from California. They seem really nice. We went to the dollar store and I got something for James and then I dropped them off at their house. Turns out they are right by where we got married and they can see into the garden and they may have watched us get married! If they did that would have been so funny! The world is so small sometimes.

I went home after that. And when I got back here I got right into my sewing. I really wanted to finish. I was almost done by the time James got home. And within that hour I would be finished.

James had made a couple pit stops on the way home. To get cheese to make us a pizza. And to go find me Dr pepper. They ended up finding the strawberry one which I haven't seen since that first time I got it. So that was cool. And while they were making that we worked on cleaning the apartment a little bit. James worked on the floors and I did some picking up around the place and tidying. And then we had dinner and it was really good.

I left the sash on my drying rack and it looks great. Tomorrow at camp I'm going to grab some fabric from the scrap boxes that I have because I think I have something similar in texture if not color there. And I'll work on that in the transition times during my programs. It's the Native American program so hopefully I'll have a lot of down time. That's always the ideal.

And then I got to work going over our packing stuff. Like I said the other day I was asleep well James was packing their back so I didn't really know it was in there and I asked if they were okay with me going through it and they said they trust me so I unpacked their whole bag. And I repacked it in a way that I thought was more balance. They were missing a few things that I pointed out so hopefully next week when we get everything ready on Monday and Tuesday everything will be completely done. And once I was done doing theirs I also re-did the inside of my suitcase. Mostly because I felt like my shoe options were still messed up. And I ended up taking out the one pair of clogs but leaving the sandals because they have much better arch support and I thought that they would be nice if my feet hurt. James and Jess both thought that was the best idea. And I was able to move all of my tank tops into my clothing side of my suitcase and just use one small bag to put all of my leggings in. I have one long pair and two short pair. Plus the pair I'm going to be wearing on the airplane.

I also went over my list again of the things that I still need to pack and I have plenty of room for them plus souvenirs and things. Ideally I want neither of my two bags to be full. I did leave space for my extra sweater and I'm going to be wearing a sweatshirt and a jacket and a fleece to the airport so that I don't have to worry about them being very big in my bag. And I can fold one up and use a pillowcase or maybe a stuff sack to use it as a pillow. I have an exactly decided on that yet. I also am not sure if I'm bringing my travel neck pillow or if I'm going to bring just a regular stuffed animal. I'm not really positive. But regardless I am very excited that everything feels very settled now. 95% of everything we need is already packed.

I just hung out for a while after that. And eventually I decided to take a bath. Got kind of cold in here. Sleepy was out on the fire escape until well after 9:00. So I got very chilly. So the bath was nice and made me feel a lot better. James played D&D and now they're getting ready for bed as well.

Hopefully I can sleep very good tonight and tomorrow my group is great. They're supposed to be a very small group so I hope they're fun. I hope you all have a great night tonight and you sleep well. Have fun!!

[thedas-fat-emporium]

”No I did not steal presents I'm a lot of bad things but I'm not taking presents from kids half the people in the city claim to see a green creature do it why do you automatically assume all the crime is me.” The mystery of the creature still hasn't been found over 2 weeks past the holiday

Merrill hugged Talbain from behind and gently began to ease him away from the human who was antagonising him, keen to avoid another confrontation over this. "Come now, my love. We have places to be." She said as an excuse to get him away from a potential fight.

[myveryownfanfiction]

AN: I saw @itzjustalexxx mention something in the kiefer sutherland tag about there not being many new ace Merrill stories. So here it is! I love ace so hit me up not edited

warnings: abuse, underage drinking, drinking and driving, smoking

Ace leaned again the doorway to Irby’s waiting for them to walk by. He didn’t want to show up at their front door, already knowing what their parents would think of him. Ace itched to put a tooth pick in his mouth or put a cigarette but he knew the second he did he’d have to toss it. Just as his fingers twitched towards his pocket, (Y/N) walked around the corner. They caught his eye and broke into a run. That was something ace always loved about (Y/N): they didn’t care about what everyone else thought about him And they were always happy to see him.

“Hey. Whoa slow down!” Ace chuckled as (Y/N) crashed into him. He stumbled and struggled to keep his balance while holding up the person who has just launched themselves at him. He seriously doubted it by would let him back in the bar if he went through the front window (again) with nothing to show of it except a happy significant other. “Someone’s excited to see me.” Ace gently teased as he set (Y/N) back on their feet.

“I didn’t get to see you all weekend Ace. Of course I’m happy to see you.“ (Y/N) chided as they snuggled more into his chest. Ace rested his chin on them as he pulled them closer. “We’re still on for tonight right?” Ace nodded.

“Yeah. Ill be coming to get you a little earlier though.“ (Y/N) pulled back to look at him confused. ”My dads on a bender. I’m gonna get out for this week.“

“Ace…” (Y/N) started before he stopped them with a kiss.

“don’t worry. He tried to start in on Me earlier. That’s why I’m here.“ he nodded back so they understood that ace meant irby‘s. “I’ll probably be here for most of the week then sleeping out in the car either at pops yard or In eyeballs driveway. I’ll still be able to see you.” (Y/N) nodded slowly before gently pulling away.

“Alright Ace. I’ll meet you here then?” Ace nodded.

“around 3. We can grab some food.“ (Y/N) glanced at the bar behind him before nodding slowly. “Not here. I’ll take you somewhere sorts nice.” He laughed before smiling as (Y/N) left down the street. Ace sighed before straightening out his shirt and heading back into the bar. Nodding at Irby, ace went into the back room to get ready for his date. When he had finished, ace walked up to the bar and Irby placed a beer in front of him. Looking at it for a second, Ace picked it up and took a drink.

*timeskip*

Ace was leaning about his car outside of the bar. He had stopped drinking an hour ago but he still felt tipsy. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that he went on a date with (Y/N) drunk. They never seemed to care. Ace wet his lips when he saw them round the corner and walk over to the car.

“Hey. You look nice.” He greeted them with a kiss on the cheek. No one in castle rock would think it but Ace was a gentleman when he wanted to be. A smile was all the thanks he needed and all he could ever ask for. Holding open the car door for (Y/N), he waited until they were seated before rounding the car and getting into his side. (Y/N) slid across the bench seat and rested their head against his shoulder as he started the car. They took off with (Y/N) fiddling with the radio.

“So what restaurant are we going to?” (Y/N) asked. Ace’s eyes went wide and he bit his lip.

“I kind of forgot to make any kind of reservation. Is the dinner alright? I know I said I’d take you somewhere better…” ace started, taking his eyes off the road for a second.

“It’s fine. The dinner is better than Irby’s anyway.” (Y/N) cut him off with a shrug. Ace breathed a sigh of relief as he took one hand off the wheel and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder.

The dinner was uneventful but ace could tell something was simmering under the surface. On the ride back towards Irby’s, he finally broke the tension.

“What’s been eating at you?” He asked. (Y/N) shrugged. “Come on. Just tell me.“

”you’ll just get mad ace. Forget it.“ Ace pulled over and looked over at them.

“No. What is it?” He asked again. (Y/N) rolled their eyes and got out of the car. Ace followed and stared at their back as the finally stopped and turned around. Something clicked in his brain and he started to smirk. “Uh (Y/N)? Is it what I’m thinking?“ they turned around with a disgusted look on their face, causing aces smirk to fall. “Ok. Nevermind. It’s not what I’m thinking.“ he swallowed thickly and shoved his hands in his pockets. A chill ran through the trees and ace shivered. He pressed his lips into a thin line when he noticed (Y/N) shiver harder than he had. sighing, he shrugged out of the shirt he had thrown on top of his black tee. He slowly walked over to where (Y/N) was standing and gently wrapped them up in it.

“You’ll just get mad.” They whispered when ace had gently prodded them into putting their arms through the sleeves.

“promise I won’t.” he gently said. They shook their head and ace gently kissed their forehead. ”I swear on my mother. And this time I mean it.” (Y/N) chuckled and nodded.

“I thought about what you said about your dad being on a bender. And how you were gonna sleep in your car and spend your time at irby’s. And I came up with an idea.“ ace nodded and smiled softly at them. “It would require finally telling my parents. But I think it would be much better than sleeping in your car.“ ace gave them a look which made them chuckle again. “As comfy as it is I think either my bed or at least the couch would be more comfortable.“ ace swallowed and turned back to the car. He lit a cigarette and quickly pulled a few drags from it.

“you think it’s a good idea to tell your parents?” He finally asked. (Y/N) nodded. “Even with my reputation? They won’t like me. No one likes me. I’m not the type of person that you take home to meet your parents. And I’m definitely the type of person that parents with let sleep in the same bed as their kid or even the couch.“ (Y/N) slowly walked over to him and put their hand on his arm, stopping the pacing he hadn’t even noticed he had started.

“It’ll be ok ace. I promise.“ they said as they goaded him back into the hug he had broken away from. “And I may have accidentally let slip I was dating a cobra. So they kind of already know that my significant other is one of the most dangerous people in castle rock.” Ace chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah pop knows about you too. And obviously all the cobras know.“ ace admitted. He let out a sigh and kissed their forehead. “Alright. Let’s ask.“ he leaned his head against theirs and sighed again. “You’re lucky I love you.” (Y/N) pulled away from his quickly.

“Ace are you drunk?” They asked, eyes wide in shock. he shook his head.

“I had a few drinks earlier at Irby’s but I think they wore off. Why?” Ace looked at them confused.

“You love me?” They asked, tears welling in their eyes. Ace was quick to wipe them away, whispering quiet no’s as he did. ”You don’t?” Ace paused his actions.

“I do love you. I just…you’re crying. And I….I fucked up.” He said a little too quickly. (Y/N) kissed him quickly.

“no you didn’t ace.“ they said when they pulled away. “I love you too. It’s just shocking to hear you say that for the first time.“ ace chuckled as he wiped a few stray tears away. He kissed (Y/N) again after nodding in agreement.

“Come on. Let’s go meet your folks before I change my mind.” Ace led the way back to his car before settling in with (Y/N) pressed against him again. He started the car and started driving back to their house. Looking down at them with their head on his shoulder he sighed happily. “God I love you baby.” He said, earning a smile in return and a kiss pressed against his neck. And he did.

[whiskehorange]

Merrill Hess dating/relationship headcanons?

Merrill

He's soft but very playful. The perfect kind of boy you'd bring home to meet the family and one they would love to pieces. Merrill is nothing but respectful and makes a great first impression, no matter how nervous he might be

Although, you know he's got a bit of a mouth, but it's all in good fun. What's a relationship without defying one of your parents at least once like the two of you are teens again? Anything he can do to put a smile on your face is worth it to him

Dates are pretty laid back and nothing too fancy, unless it's a very special occasion. Going to the movies is a favorite of his, going out to lunch at a local café, maybe even getting tickets to see a game playing soon. There is a lovely amount of land to have picnics on his and Grahams property, however if that's what you'd prefer

Absolutely goes all out getting you presents every time he see's you. A lot of the times it's flowers that he holds out to you with the dumbest smile on his face when you open the door or other times it's either tickets, or small jewelry if you wear it. Mostly flowers though!

He's not inherently big on PDA, only because he is a little nervous to do it out in public but loves to hold you hand or have his arm slung over your shoulder while you walk next to him. However when the two of you are alone he cannot keep his hands off of you

Cuddling, hugging, any type of holding you is good enough for him. While it's not quite handsy, it's just very affectionate touch with his entire body. Merrill enjoys your warmth

NSFW ⬇

Merrill is a hefty teaser and uses his hands to do that a lot. Dirty talk is not his specialty as he stumbles too much and most of the time the two of you laugh it off. Instead, he does give you unexpected thwacks on the ass anytime you're facing away from him

The two of you have a good time and are able to share laughs during sex. Merrill is too good to you and is comfortable enough with you to have good quality time in and with you. Hearing you laugh is something he strives to do, even when the two of you are behind a locked door

He's as vanilla as it gets but isn't too afraid to try out new things that you'd be willing to do. He couldn't stand to push and beat you around though, he doesn't like hitting you. Now hitting you from behind is a different story though

Surprisingly (or not), Merrill is very vocal during sex and often praises you and lets you know how good you feel or how good you're doing and constantly asks if you're still okay or if anything hurts

Loves to burry his head into your neck when he finishes and squeezes you hard between his arms when he does, holding you there for a moment and feeling your body under him. His favorite position would have to be a simple missionary due to the fact that he'd be able to see your face and have easy access to hold you close

He also holds you hand often and squeezing either while he's pleasuring you or vice versa

Aftercare is extremely soft and gentle. He insists on cleaning up and most of the time runs a warm bath for the two of you to soak in afterwards. Will bring you breakfast in bed the next morning 100% and make jokes about the night the two of you had

[80s4life]

Not What I Had Planned

Word Count: 1,294

Status: Requested!

Fandom: Stand By Me 1986

A/N: This was an idea I had gotten from someone on Wattpad who had requested it on that platform.

Relationship: Ace Merrill x GenderNeutral!Reader (soon baby x Ace x GN!Reader)

Summary: As Ace was on his way home from a day out with the boys, he was caught by surprise as an unexpected bundle of joy was found on the side of the road.  In those very few seconds, his life flips, but is it for the best or the worst?

Warnings: language, more fluff, some angst (Ace gets in his feels)

Masterlist  Stand By Me Masterlist Part Two

{Not my gif, credits to @spinmidnight​}

Pulling out from the alley behind the diner, Ace stops at the stop sign right beside it, intending on making his way home.  As he turns the corner, making a left, he settles in his seat, now driving down the long, winding dirt road he usually takes with the boys when they’re racing.  The sun was starting to set and the cool summer air was a blissful calm to Ace.  Instead of speeding down the road, he decides to take it easy, enjoying the scenery, not really wanting to go home yet.

As he continues on the little cruise, he sees a road he’s never noticed before, branching off from the main road yet leading him to the same destination.  Deciding to take it, he makes a slight right, now continuing on the hilly detour.  Not so long after he made his way onto the road did he stop at another stop sign, seeing a bundle of blankets beside it. Intending on passing the mound of blankets, Ace soon stops altogether as he hears a slight cry.  Confused, he slows his car to a stop and listens closely.  

After hearing yet another quiet cry, Ace puts his blinkers on, parks the car, and makes his way around the front to get a better look.  Moving some of the blankets aside, Ace is shocked to find a small, infant baby huddled beneath the covers, crying and lonely.  For a second, all he could do is stare, wondering how or why the baby was there in the first place.

Looking around, he looks for any sign of the parents or caretakers of the child, quitting soon after he realizes there’s no sign of anyone actually looking for the kid. Whoever did this had obviously done it on purpose, having left a bottle, toy, and a small package of formula. Pacing now, Ace contemplates whether or not he should leave the baby there.  Deciding against his better judgement though, he scoops the baby into his arms, and snags the materials left beside it.

Throwing the things in the back, he moves to strap the baby into the passenger seat, soon failing as the baby flops and flounders around, unable to safely sit in the seat. Annoyed, Ace almost screams at the kid, but overall knows there’s nothing it had done wrong besides being completely helpless. Instead, Ace scoops the baby up once more, taking one of the blankets and wrapping around the baby.  

Going back to the drivers seat, he secures the baby against his chest with his left arm, driving to Y/N one-handed, deciding to not go home now. It’s not like he’s usually there anyway. Y/N’s house they owned on their own money had become Ace’s refuge.  Their shared paradise.  And that’s where he felt comfortable most.  That’s why he’s going there.

Knocking on the door to Y/N’s small log cabin, Ace stands nervously, bouncing on foot to foot, not exactly knowing what he’s going to say or do or how Y/N was going to react. He didn’t have time to overthink it, unfortunately for him, as the person in question opens the door with a bright smile that always made Ace weak.  The smile soon falters though as Y/N catches glimpse at what is being held tightly to Ace’s chest.

“What did you do?” is the only question they ask, looking Ace in the eyes questionably.

“Well I- I- I- It’s a long story babe,” he stutters out, “Can I come in please?”

Sighing, Y/N gives him one of their special looks, the one where they act annoyed but truly aren’t, and quite frankly, very amused at that. Ace sits on the couch, giving Y/N the whole rundown on what had happened, how the baby was left, and what led him to Y/N’s doorstep in the first place. 

Y/N simply smiles adoringly at Ace though, completely lost in their own mind. The whole time since Ace had walked in, he had kept the baby tightly in his arms, as if any second, the baby could be taken away from him.  He was the perfect father figure, and Y/N couldn’t help but fall even more in love with Ace at the moment.

“So what are you planning to do with the baby?” Y/N asks softly, knowing the idea of a child in Ace’s care was one of his biggest fears and a very touchy topic.

“I don’t know, probably just put it back where I found it. You know how I feel about kids, and I ain’t turnin’ into my father.  It’s better this way.  And I know you’re about to lecture me about this, but this decision is final,” Ace answers gruffly, getting into a defensive mode, as if the world was against him.

Y/N doesn’t answer, instead lightly takes the baby from Ace’s arms, going to change it upstairs, away from Ace’s eyesight. It gave him time to cool down. Y/N, being extra careful, changes the baby with the little materials Ace had picked up from beside the baby on the street, soon discovering it’s a baby girl. Someone left a baby girl behind. 

Going back to the living room, Y/N watches Ace, taking in his posture. The way he stares at the floor with such guilt. Silently taking their seat beside him once more, Y/N gives his hand a squeeze, lightly taking his cheek in their hand, tilting Ace’s head lightly in order for him to meet their eyes.

“Baby, you are not your father. And, listen to me. I can see the look in your eyes, I know you don’t want to dump that baby back there just as someone else had. Your better than that. That makes you twice the man your father is.  You are a strong, kind, generous, determined, stubborn, and protective man. Your my man. And I know you’ll be an amazing father.  I understand if you don’t want to keep the baby, but she’s not going anywhere until I find her somewhere where someone will take proper care,” Y/N speaks in a hushed, caring tone, one they use when they calm Ace’s panic attacks or outbursts.

Ace sniffles a little as some tears threaten to fall, “Did you say ‘she’? As in a little girl? Why...” he whispers in disbelief. Y/N simply hugs him, kissing him on the head. “We’re keeping her,” he says firmly, sitting straight almost simultaneously.

“Babe, if you don’t want this, we don’t need to do it right now-” 

“No! I want this! I want you, I want the baby, I want us. You’re right, I’m not my father, and I’m sure as hell not gonna pussy outta this right now. I never back down from a challenge, and this is a challenge I’m proud to tackle with you.  We can be a beautiful family, you and me. And now with her too,” Ace cuts them off sternly.

After taking a breath, Ace calms himself, giving Y/N a chaste kiss to the lips before finishing with an ‘I love you.’ Taking Ace by the hand, Y/N leads him up the stairs where the little girl is found sleeping peacefully on their shared bed. The couple, now holding each other, stare adoringly at the little bundle of joy. 

“This was not what I had planned,” Ace says after some time.

“I know baby, I know,” Y/N answers in just barely a whisper.  

Little did they know that this little girl would’ve brought the couple even closer together, their bond strengthening through the years to come. Their little girl being their pride and joy, the family they never thought of, soon becoming the best thing that’s ever happened to them.

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 1: Voices

Read at AO3.

Gwyn's afternoon couldn't get any worse.

First of all, the morning's training had been horrendous.

Three weeks after the Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had thought it was time to start practicing again, since according to them, they had made a lot of mistakes that could very well have cost them their lives.

She was still alive, just like Nesta and Emerie, so at least one thing they had done well, survive.

After 3 weeks of not doing any sports, it was noticeable when you came back with all the energy, especially on a day where the sun was literally burning.

She noticed as she did push-ups that morning how her arms were trembling dangerously, the sweat running down the curve of her breasts, soaking the shirt she had worn.

Gwyn had promised herself that she would go out into the outside world.

That year she had made a lot of progress, she supposed she should be ready to enter society again, but no.

After the events in the Blood Rite, what she wanted was to lock herself in the darkest corner of the library, with a good book, and stay there to live.

Obviously, she couldn't do that. But she would have liked it.

With all the sore muscles, having failed almost all the obstacles the two Illyrians put them, showing a regrettable endurance in each and every one of the exercises, she had to go down to the library to have a pleasant chat with Merrill, who did not understand why her performance hadn't been 100% in recent weeks.

"I don't know, Merrill. Maybe because they pulled me out of bed against my will, left me in the middle of a forest full of Illyrians, while I had to fight to stay safe, as well as having to kill people? Maybe because I had never left the library after Sangravah, and I suddenly found myself in the same situation? " She reasoned, trying to control her pulse, having remembered the events in the Blood Rite.

She detested Merrill.

More than anyone else, she hated her. She often thought that life would be so much easier if people like Merrill just didn't exist.

After leaving her a ton of work to do, the female disappeared, leaving Gwyn with about seven books resting in her arms, already numb from the morning exercises.

She ran to the nearest table, relieved when she put the books down, with a thud.

She rubbed her dazed hands, wincing at the pile of books that awaited her to spend hours and hours together.

She had to research one of Merrill's new obsessions, the ancient and forgotten Prythian gods.

"I didn't even know they existed", she opined, opening a random book to a random page, flipping through the contents.

She got dizzy from so much information she did not understand, closing the pages with force, grabbing a cart that was nearby, leaving the volumes in it and going to her room, to calmly read those pages and pages of useless information, and then do a chapter-by-chapter summary for Merrill.

"Great, it's a good way to spend your free time if you love reading junk." She groaned as she carefully lowered the cart down the stairs.

"It is not junk. It is information that may be useful at some point", answered her subconscious.

At least she thought it was her subconscious.

She didn't remember when she had started to hear that voice, just one day it had appeared, and now it was considered the voice of reason.

Everything that voice said, it was true.

"I know, but I don't know how knowing which are the main and forgotten gods of Prythian is going to solve my problems." She attacked, greeting one priestess that came close to her, passing by her side.

The voice fell silent, apparently it had nothing more to add.

At least Gwyn could answer the voice in her mind. It would have been a strange thing to see a person argue with herself.

Upon reaching the room, which was a simple square with a bed, a wooden desk with a wooden chair that had more splinters than wood itself, and a modest closet, also made of wood.

Yeah, in summer the termites would destroy all the furniture if she wasn't careful.

Closing the door with the latch, one of the little luxuries she had on it, she put the books down with a thump, brushing her hands on the skirts of the gown, which was already heavily encrusted with dust.

She thought of taking off that long dress, which after so many washes the initial blue had ended up in an almost invisible gray, but she did not feel like going to the common baths of the priestesses, because every time she went there, they peppered her with questions about the Blood Rite.

And the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

So she collapsed on the bed, pulling back the covers and hugging the pillow with one arm, as she got into a fetal position.

"You have to go out, you can't hide in the bedroom all afternoon." It protested, to which she responded very kindly with a growl as she turned, trying to make it understand that she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Alright then. If you get caught between the sheets and can't get out, don't come running to ask me for help." it threatened.

Gwyn didn't know how she was going to ask for help to a voice. It was disembodied, how the hell was she going to beg for help if she didn't even know what that murmur was?

She rolled over on the bed, rubbing her eyes and exhaling, disappointed.

She hated not being able to get out of that damn room.

She hated her insecurity and her irrational fear.

"It is not irrational, Gwyn." It assured her.

"Leave me alone." She begged, getting it to shut up.

She lay on her stomach, breathing deeply.

She looked at the time on the only clock in the room, located above the closet.

19.36.

It appears that she had a lot of time to do absolutely nothing.

Maybe she was going to pick up a book that Nesta and Emerie were reading.

Honestly, she was dying to sink her teeth into one that had caught her attention. According to her description, a maiden sent by the gods fell in love with her bodyguard...

Determined, she bolted upright, unlocking the latch, happily heading for the book.

There would be time to examine the books Merrill had passed her.

Anyway, she had a lot of time, reading something that interested her was not going to do anything bad to everyone.

With a broad grin, she made it to the fiction book section. She opened one of the books, tucking her nose between the pages, an exhale escaping from her lips when she smelled the wonderful book scent.

Her gaze sparking, she searched for the novel she was looking for.

"Didn't you forget something?" It asked.

She stopped short in the middle of the shelves, alarming a passing priestess.

Bowing her head in apology, she went back to searching, her eyes narrowing as she searched the thousands of spins with her eyes, finding none that bore the name of the book she was looking for.

"I don't have any errands to deliver to Merrill." She snapped, frowning when she finally found it.

It was at the top of the shelf.

She made a long face, standing on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could as she stuck her tongue out, focused.

"I don't mean Merrill, Gwyneth."

"Mysterious voice, what are you talking about?" The priestess demanded in a tired voice. She did not arrive. Why did they make the shelves so high? It was not possible that someone could reach them.

Although, don't get it wrong, Gwyn adored the voice. It was equal to the voice that we all have within us guiding us.

The problem was that the voice that she had was a little… annoying.

She looked at the shelves next to the floor, no books in sight.

Maybe if she got on them…?

She put one foot on it, skipping little hops as she judged whether the bookcase was going to fall or not.

Realizing that it was unlikely, she lifted her other foot, raising her heels as much as she could while she stretched out her arm, feeling her muscles go numb.

A little more ... just a little more ...

"You remember that your friend Nesta has a mate, right? And that you promised them that you would go to her ceremony?" As soon as she finished the sentence, Gwyn stopped.

Shit.

Seriously, had she forgotten that?

"There is still time… There are five days until the ceremony." The voice tried to calm her down, but nothing was going to do it now.

She jumped down from the shelf, as she began to walk from one place to another, in circles.

She had to go.

She couldn't do that to Nesta.

"I don't even have a dress. What am I going to wear?" Alarmed, she slightly stretched the strands of her coppery hair, thinking of a way to solve all the problems that had suddenly befallen her.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

The female began to hyperventilate, forgetting the book that she had held less than 3 centimeters from her hands.

That was far more important.

"I can't tell Nesta that I forgot about her mating ceremony. I can't do that to her." Gwyn protested, running her hands over her face, rubbing her temples angrily, forcing herself to search for solutions and solutions and solutions.

But neither of them was going to work.

She had to get out of there, no priestess was going to leave her a suitable dress for the mating ceremony.

But she couldn't go alone. She did not dare to go down to the city alone.

Emerie couldn't help her. It had started the illyrian high-selling season and the illyrian needed the money. She only went to training, then she quickly returned to her store, not staying a minute longer than necessary.

Cassian and Nesta were completely out of the question.

Azriel...

"Ask him." The voice advised.

She needed to name that voice. She could not continue calling it "the voice", that was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Maybe he can help you get the dress." It continued.

Would it be male or female? Or rather, what the hell was it?

"Are you listening to me?"

She definitely had no idea what it was.

"What are you?" Gwyn questioned, curious as she left the fiction section behind, walking aimlessly through the library.

She loved to wander aimlessly through the thousands of bookshelves, silent priestesses, the whisper of books her only company.

Besides that voice, of course.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last two minutes?" Her voice roared.

"I've heard nonsense, so no, I haven't heard anything." She claimed. "But anyway, you haven't answered my question. What are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing at the same time."

Now was it was being funny with her?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed "That is not an answer."

"It's an answer if you know how to interpret it." It answered.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Well, at least tell me what I can call you, it's uncomfortable to think of you as 'The voice'" She asked.

The voice fell silent, which she thought meant the end of the conversation.

She decided to head over to her room, assuming she should start Merrill's work, until 'the Voice' answered her.

"Elián"

Gwyn stood in the middle of the bedroom hall

"That is your name?"  She asked.

"My real name would burn your lips if you were able to pronounce it" It replied. "But yes, Elián is my name, and I am 'him', I have noticed how you struggled because you did not know if I was a man or a woman. The definition of gender is much more complicated than that, but it will be enough".

"G-Good." She answered.

Elián was quiet at last, leaving her with her own thoughts, as she opened the door, her own scent of jasmine feeling welcoming.

And the proposal he had made, although obviously she had ignored it, she was not wrong to consider.

Perhaps the Shadowsinger would help her out, aiding her finding a decent dress for her.

She closed the crank behind her, sitting on the small bed, wondering if it would be smart to ask him, risking him saying no, or not asking him and risking not having a dress for the ceremony.

Sighing, she figured she should go to the bathrooms to get the sensation of dust - and the dust itself - off her body, so she grabbed change clothes and headed there, deciding at that moment that tomorrow she would ask the Spymaster if he could accompany her to buy a dress.

Inside her, she could feel Elián nodding his head, giving his approval.

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[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Four days.

Four days of training with no sign of Azriel.

Four days of the pitying side-glances from Nesta and Cassian when she arrived to the ring to find that he still wasn’t there.

Gwyn gritted her teeth and peppered the post with blows from her fists and feet. She hated pity. She didn’t want it. They knew it, too. It was all she could do not to scream at them, and part of her wondered why exactly she hadn’t. A few weeks ago she probably would have. Her scowl deepened.

She punched harder.

As much as she’d denied it to the general and her friends, she was acting differently. She wasn’t upset about being spurned by a male. She had never had any claim on Azriel, never had any expectations. She was not a female that would allow a male to have power over her emotions – her very being – like that.

But she felt like she had lost a friend, and not due to tragedy or death. She had lost a friend by their own choice. She wasn’t sure how to handle that.

Had it been pity that made Azriel placate her? Is that what he had done? She’d told him that she missed him. It was true, and she had never questioned uttering her truth to anyone.

He hadn’t returned the sentiment.

Perhaps it had been pity, then. He had said what he knew she wanted to hear, enough to get her out of his hair…

“NO,” she scolded herself through her panting. Gwyn would not allow herself to go down that road. She did not need pity from herself, either. She was strong and capable and confident. She was a Valkyrie.

The dull ache in her knuckles distracted her from her rushing thoughts and the sun beating down on the training ring. It was hotter than she could remember it ever being since she’d started training – so hot that Cassian had allowed the trainees to forego the Illyrian leathers in favor of lighter, cooler clothing. A year ago the idea may have terrified her, but she had fought Illyrian warriors in nothing but a nightgown, so she graciously accepted Nesta’s offer of the light blue linen tunic that bared her shoulders and lightweight leggings. Gwyn was grateful for her friend’s consideration, even though she knew the sun would likely end up burning her rarely-exposed skin.

Another distraction. For the best.

“Gwyn.”

The priestess started as the general’s voice boomed from behind her. She turned her wide eyes to him and saw an eyebrow raised at her.

“Cassian?” She had grown increasingly comfortable with him in the months since his and Nesta’s mating ceremony. She had spent a considerable amount of time with both of them, and while she still used his title, it was usually in jest and banter. He had become a friend, something of a brother, perhaps.

“I said you need to take a break.” His eyes shifted to her hands before returning to her face. “Water. Now. And take care of those hands.”

“I’m fine -“

“You will take care of them or I will sideline you for the rest of the day, Berdara,” he spoke sternly, every bit the weathered veteran and general of the most feared forces in all of Prythian. He had mischief in his eyes, as per usual, but there was something that darkened them.

Concern.

“Yes, general,” she drawled before muttering under her breath as he walked away, “Mother-henning busybody.”

“What was that, Berdara?” he challenged over a broad shoulder.

“Nothing!” she sing-songed back to him as sweetly as she could muster, lest she not sound convincing. His wings flared slightly as he paced away, and she waited until he was halfway across the ring before she stretched out her arms in front of her to survey the backs of her hands. The fabric wrapped around her hands was stained crimson across her knuckles where her skin had surely cracked open. In multiple places.

She hadn’t even noticed.

Gwyn uttered a low curse, scowling to herself, and stalked over to the table where Nesta and Emerie were watching her. Her sisters. Regardless of whatever this storm was that she was experiencing, she knew that she was not alone. That was the greatest comfort.

“If I were you I’d save some of that aggression for someone who actually deserves it,” the eldest Archeron offered, eyebrows raised. “What did that post ever do to you anyway?”

Gwyn scoffed, looking back at the padded wood that she had been battling for Mother-knew how long before glancing at her bloodied hands. “I think it still came out on top, anyway,” she grinned, and began peeling the fabric away. Emerie passed her a basket of gauze, ointments, and clean wraps as Gwyn lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the ground.

“You… uh… you were really in the zone there, Gwyn,” the Illyrian female said as she knelt beside her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” The copper-haired priestess looked at her friend, warmth blooming in her heart when she saw the concern written across her tanned face.

“I’m fine,” she smiled brightly at Emerie and then looked up to Nesta. “I promise.”

“Regardless,” Nesta answered as she sat down with her. “Save a couple of those shots for that idiot Spymaster. That’s what I’m doing.”

Gwyn managed a laugh before returning her attention to her stinging, bloodied hands. She hissed as she dabbed ointment over where her skin had split before laying gauze over the freshly cleaned wounds. Maybe she would save a punch or two for Azriel, if she ever even saw him again.

Or maybe she would just continue to savor the distraction of the pain.

~~~

Punching something until her hands bled had proven to be an effective distraction during training.

And again that night, when her demons had chased her out of bed for the third time in five days. She hadn’t told Nesta and Emerie how bad it was getting since Azriel had chosen to remove himself from her life. They were already worried, and it was something she would need to learn to manage on her own, anyway. At least she could still go to the training ring, work herself to bone-numbing exhaustion, and then collapse into slumber for a few precious hours.

Azriel was never there.

And while punching and kicking until she was bruised and bloody bought her some reprieve from her nightmares, it was not conducive to her work in the library. Her swollen fingers could barely grasp her quill.

Definitely weapons tonight, then.

She paused, feeling her eyes prickle as she realized her assumption: that she all but planned on being unable to sleep yet again.

What a mess she had become.

Regardless of what potential may have existed between her and Azriel before, what tore at her was the loss of a dear friend, a confidant. He had seen her darkest days and nights and had never run away from her. She had tried to ignore it the first night she had sensed him in the archway to the training ring before he retreated back into the House. But he’d kept retreating, again and again.

And now he didn’t approach at all. She hadn’t even sensed or scented him in the House, ever since that day he’d assured her that they were friends, and that things would go back to normal. What a foolish hope that had been.

“Gwyneth, girl, where are those books I told you to fetch? I sent you for them hours ago!” Gwyn winced as Merrill’s voice carried through the stacks. She had known it would only be a matter of time before the elder priestess found her. To an outsider, Merrill’s voice would have sounded pleasant, but the Valkyrie heard the venomous threats underneath. She put down her quill and rubbed her eyes as the beautiful white-haired female approached her, eyes gleaming with malice.

“I apologize, sister. I have been struggling with this transcription.” Indeed, the pain in her hands had caused her to be much slower than usual. “I’ll retrieve those books for you immediately.” Gwyn moved to push herself from the table when Merrill’s soft tanned fingers yanked her bruised hand to study it, her grip like a vice. The teal-eyed priestess winced.

“Poor little Valkyrie, can barely even write her own name,” Merrill scoffed. “Perhaps I should replace you, Gwyneth. Nobody has use for a foolish girl who is too broken to look out for herself.”

Gwyn pulled her hand back, the pain forgotten after the words that lanced into her soul. It was a ‘gift’ of Merrill’s, knowing exactly what to say to cut her to the quick.

“Can’t sleep without someone to coddle you, so instead you resort to brutality. Poor excuse for a Valkyrie. Poorer excuse for a female.” How could she know?

Gwyn rose abruptly, tears stinging at her eyes. But she would not let them fall in front of the witch. “I’ll go get those books now,” she managed to rasp, before retreating into the stacks.

~~~

That night she hadn’t even tried to sleep, the scholar’s dagger-like words twisting in her chest. Merrill was right, wasn’t she? For all Gwyn had done, all that she had overcome and accomplished, she was falling apart. She was adrift, uncertain of where to turn. Nesta and Emerie would never turn away, of course. But Azriel…

It had been different with him, she didn’t know why. But the gaping wound left in his absence was proof that maybe the necklace had meant more than she cared to admit. So had not being the intended recipient. It hurt.

Losing him hurt.

And even though she had realized that day that she wouldn’t have his heart, she had hoped that he would be willing to continue with the friendship they had built.

But she had lost even that.

Gwyn burst through the door and into cold rain, steam rising from the training ring as the droplets hit the stone floor still warm from the daytime sun. She stood there for a moment, letting it wash over her. Her robes grew heavy with water but she barely took note as the downpouring cold soothed her aching hands and soul.

Robes swished as she moved to the center of the ring. She sat down and hugged her knees to her chest. Closing her eyes, she tilted her chin up, allowing her tears to fall and mix with the rain that had dulled her usually vibrant hair to a drab chestnut.

Just breathe. Let it be and breathe.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, letting the storm wash her clean, when she felt him. She had always been able to sense him, shadows or no. She faced forward, determined not to turn toward him, lest he see how weak she had become. So she simply gathered her courage and spoke. It sounded steadier than she had expected, much stronger than she felt.

“Hello, Azriel.”

~~~

He wasn’t surprised that she knew he was there. She always seemed to know, and not just because his shadows were traitorous bastards who would tend to attract her attention – seemingly on purpose.

Gwyn always seemed to… sense him.

And, if Azriel were ever honest with himself, he would probably admit that it was the same for him. She had a presence that he was drawn to.

Constantly.

The restraint that it had taken to stay in the townhouse, maintain his home base there as he fulfilled his reconnaissance missions in Vallahan and the human lands – it was wearing on him. He’d barely slept in the last week, throwing himself into his work and training when the darkness and shame kept him awake in the night. The guilt was a festering wound inside of him.

He’d told Gwyn that they were friends. That things would return to normal. And then he’d run from her like a fucking coward.

Azriel. Spymaster. Shadowsinger. Death Bringer. The lethal dark of the Night Court had run from a 29-year-old priestess who loved nothing more than to smile and laugh, whose only crime was caring for him. Five centuries of training and death and calm calculation had not prepared him for her innocence and trust. It was dangerous.

The shadowsinger stared at her rain-soaked form huddled in the middle of the training ring, shadows curling around him – begging him to go to her. Even without the moon her skin seemed to glow. It was pinker than usual, likely due to her training underneath the midday sun. His gaze drifted to her hands, long fingers wrapped under her knees. His eyes narrowed as he spied the discoloration of her skin and cracks over her knuckles. He’d assumed that Cassian was exaggerating when he had told him that Gwyn was beating herself bloody, taking out her emotions on every piece of equipment available to her.

That knife of guilt twisted in his gut.

His brother had been waiting outside his room when he’d returned to the townhouse the night before, leaning on the doorframe casually with crossed arms.

“So this is where you run off to when you have too many feelings?”

Cassian had never been known for his tact.

“I’m working, Cassian. It’s quieter –“

“Cut the bullshit, Az. You and I both know that things are quiet and that your spies can more than manage their assignments.” Azriel growled and barged through the door, Cassian on his heels. “And you and I both know that this has nothing to do with your responsibilities to the court and has everything to do with Gwyneth Berdara.”

The shadowsinger halted, suddenly finding the navy silk sheets on his bed very interesting. Anything to avoid looking at the other Illyrian in the room. No matter what mask he slid over his emotions, Cassian could see right through it. Always.

He shook his head and tore his shirt off over his arms, stalking into the bathing room without acknowledging what the general had said. “I’m exhausted, Cassian.”

“Then listen to what I have to say, Az. You listen, then I’ll leave.”

He turned back to his brother, Cassian’s hulking form taking up most of the doorway. The dim fae lights of the bathing room cast shadows that sharpened the angles of his face. His usual mischievous glint had been replaced with resolution and concern. The shadowsinger sighed and motioned for Cassian to speak before turning to lean his hands on the refreshing cool porcelain of the bathtub.

“She’s working herself until she’s black and blue and bleeding. I’ve had to threaten to sideline her twice this week, just so she’ll take a break and tend to herself. Sound like anyone you know?”

Azriel could only sigh and hang his head. Of course it did. It was exactly what he always did to work through his frustration, to battle the demons that chased him out of bed too many nights. It was the reason she had found him in the training right that first night, the beginning of that friendship he’d told her he would uphold.

“I know you, Az. I know you feel guilty for upsetting her. I know what you see inside yourself. But you need to give yourself more credit, and Gwyn, too. Whatever this is, it’s hurting you both. So stop getting in your own way and be honest with her. Both of you can have what you deserve.”

The spymaster didn’t answer but raised his head to gaze at the moonlit garden through the window. He imagined there were lovely summer blooms and leafy vines slithering around the pane of glass – a lovely view for a relaxing summer bath. Cassian’s wings rustled has he turned to leave.

“If you can’t get your shit together and come back to help with training I need to know. The advanced females are having to sacrifice their progress to help with the novices. If I can’t depend on you to be there, I’ll need to find someone else.”

Azriel let out a sardonic laugh. The general knew just how to play him, like a fucking fiddle. He could never stand a jab to his dependability.

“I’ll be back next week.”

It was that conversation that had brought him to the training ring tonight, only to find the copper-haired priestess sitting in the cold rain. Even through the downpour he could smell the salt on her cheeks.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, like a useless fool. He knew the reason. Azriel was not the only one with nightmares.

“Same as usual, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s voice was tight. “Fourth time since we last spoke.”

He inhaled sharply. It had only been six days since he last saw her, in this very spot. “I thought they were getting better.”

“They were.”

They were.

Those two words hit him like a physical blow, but the white hot brand against his soul was the implication – the words she hadn’t spoken in that voice that was too shaky and small for the Gwyn he knew.

Her nightmares were getting better. But now… worse.

He had done this.

His absence, his cowardice, his stupidity, his darkness. It was his fault. He’d ripped his support away because he was a coward, unable to forgive himself for something her generous heart had forgiven almost as soon as it had happened. She had assured him of that. The sincerity had shone like stars in her incredible eyes. But he hadn’t accepted it. She had considered him a friend, and he had abandoned her to face her darkest memories alone.

Azriel’s eyes stung with the understanding, the wretched self-loathing, and he dared a glance again at those gentle hands he longed to hold. Bruised fingers and cracked skin.

He may as well have put those marks there by his own scarred, cruel, sadistic hands.

“I thought – maybe I just hoped – that I’d find you here one night.”

He swallowed the threatening emotions and could only manage a rasped, “I had work to do.”

“Of course.”

She saw right through him. She always had. Panic and guilt and grief rose like a tidal wave within him. He could never forgive himself for this pain he had caused her – a Carynthian warrior trying to hold herself together in the deluge. He would not forgive himself for the tears that she’d shed, the pain that she’d put herself through to cope.

I miss you, Azriel.

The shadowsinger took a shuddering breath.

Cassian was right. Gwyn deserved so much more than he could ever give, ever be. She was light and joy and he would not let his darkness snuff her out. He was broken, soulless, and cold – death on the wind. The terrible things he had done, would continue to do, would make even the strongest warriors flee in terror. He would not bring any more blood and fear and pain into her life. She deserved happiness and joy, and he deserved suffering and the dark.

They would both get what they deserved.

“You should get inside, Gwyn. The rain is cold and you’re soaked to the bone. Get inside, warm up, and get some rest.” Azriel had no idea how he’d managed that cool, detached voice when his chest was cracking open, allowing the shadows and shame to flood into him. He watched her form, swallowed in waterlogged robes. Everything about her seemed less vibrant in that moment.

“Yes. I will. Soon.”

He waited a moment longer, and when she made no move he stepped back into the stairwell, letting the night cover him. He dared one more glance over his shoulder, heart splintering when she lowered her head to her knees, shoulders shaking.

Azriel bolted down the stairs then, knowing that facing the 10,000 steps down to Velaris would be nothing compared to facing the gut-wrenching sobs he pretended he couldn’t hear.

~~~

Gwyn knew that he could probably hear her, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

So she let herself cry – full choking sobs – into her knees. But she didn’t cry for Catrin, or her lost innocence, or for Sangravah. For the first time in a long while she cried for her – this pain, heartbreak at losing someone who had become so dear to her and being powerless to stop it.

Tomorrow would be better, she knew. She had overcome far too much to let this break her. She would survive this, maybe even be better for it.

But tonight she would cry.

Because for the first time in over a year Gwyneth Berdara did not feel strong.

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @ddsworldofbooks @gwynrielsupremacist

[jellydishes]

a late wip wednesday, tagged by @illusivesoul, tagging @autobot-scout-riella, @palms-upturned, and @aubergion

Rain poured down in a seemingly solid wall of water outside the cave. Bethany watched it instead of listening to the others talk amongst themselves behind her. The relentless rushing pound filled her ears, making it easier to tune them out.

Closer, Carver grunted as he hefted his sword again, and Bethany thought of the only partially closed wounds he'd had upon arriving back at their cabin in Lothering from the battlefield. She'd done her best to help heal them at the time, but she had never been the best healer, and they hadn't had time to focus on them again afterwards until it was too late. The wounds had healed the way they wanted instead of the way they should've, and aches and scars had set in.

Carver grunted, and she worried her braid between her hands instead of looking at him. There was guilt, compounded by the voice of her mother telling her in no uncertain terms that she'd been unreasonable during this whole trip.

Bethany's mouth pressed into a thin line, and she tightened her grip on that thread of anger woven through everything she had said and done lately. She would never have admitted to it out loud, but the tiniest curl of resentment for her mother bloomed in her chest at the thought. It was cold, but not in a way that numbed; it burned, like walking barefoot through the snow. Like any of her memories associated with her father or Miri, anymore. Like so many things, it had been tainted. And she was afraid.

She was afraid of following that tiny sprouting feeling, afraid of finding out how deep it went, but neither was she willing to bury it completely.

Not again.

Not yet.

Instead, she shook her head when she heard Varric ask, "You doing all right? We don't have to go further yet if you aren't ready. The mountaintop isn't going anywhere."

Merrill started to speak at once, but Bethany cut her off by saying impatiently, "You don't have to check on me. I'm not a child. You can trust that once I've made a decision, I have thought it through."

Varric didn't answer her, but Merrill did. Bethany expected more mockery or judgment, but Merrill simply said, "We should camp here until the morning. Hurrying won't do us any good if we slide right off the rain slick rocks and have nothing to catch us but the sky, would it?"

"I do agree with your point, but the bottom of a cliff would in fact catch us," Alistair responded. "They're rather famous for doing that."

Bethany made a sharp, irritated noise by sucking between her teeth, but she couldn't argue the point. It was already growing dark, on top of the dangers offered from the rain. She turned away from the entrance and began to pace.

One revolution of the cave became two, then five, then ten.

She could hear the others putter around the cave entrance setting up camp. Heard, because she wasn't looking. Bethany knew she should join them and she would, soon, but it was becoming very difficult to fight past the feeling building between her ribs. It might have been guilt or shame or yet more anger, but it didn't really matter. She didn't want to examine it any more than she wanted to feel it, and every rotation around the cramped cavern made it choke her more and more and more.

She had just clenched her hands with the determination to begin helping when she was stopped as Carver came to stand beside her, bumping his shoulder against her own as he settled in much closer than she expected or wanted him to. Bethany went stiff and tense at first and almost started to draw away from him, but a sudden exhaustion overcame her before she could even finish the movement. She sagged against him, and closed her eyes with a shudder as his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

It has been a long time since they'd hugged each other like this, since anyone had. She tried not to think of the last people who had, or of how Carver and she had used to hug each other all the time, or why that had changed. Her arm slowly came up to cling to the front of his vest.

For a little while, he didn't say anything and neither did she. The seconds dragged on and he didn't pull away and he didn't pull away, and something snapped inside her. Bethany let out a noise, and still neither of them spoke. That soft, soft thing in her chest that felt like a bruised apple ached like it was her own ribs collapsing, instead of something she clung to for artificial support. That noise turned high, and she still wasn't looking at him. Couldn't bear to, now more than ever.

When Carver finally did break the silence, it was to say, "I would say that you are the most frustrating person I have ever met, but we both know that isn't true."

Bethany squeezed her eyes tighter, but couldn't help letting out a wavering laugh. "It isn't," she agreed. "That was- it-"

He waited for an ending that wasn't coming before he sighed and tightened his grip around her. "...I wish I knew what to say to you. Some perfect combination of words that would help instead of making things worse," he said into her hair. He drew in a breath like he was going to say more, but only sighed and shook his head before pulling away. "Come on. Can't sleep if we don't put down bedrolls to slap our faces into."