#turn left for Hid turn right for Oath

[lilibethwrites]

Hello ! Im surprised how much im on love with Aemond right now, he's so interesting... I wanted to Ask for a scenario where he eavesdrops two Ladies and reader says that instead of being afraid and disgusted by his scar,shes more intrigued ...like she cant take her eyes from him. And now he wants to know who is so foolish. (I would probably stand still if he aproached me xD) thank you and have a nice.day

A Curse and a Blessing

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, incest

Word count: 2023

A.N.: This was such a fun request to write! I think it's pretty self contained, but let me know if you'd like a second part to it.

Aegon II’s nameday celebrations were famed to bring lords and ladies from all across the Seven kingdoms to King’s Landing. Your mother, Princess Rhaenyra and your father, Prince Daemon were no exceptions to those who received invites. Thus, you and your step-brothers flew to the heart of the Throne for a week of feast and entertainment.

Aegon wasn’t seen much, and the conversations of the adults bore you to near death. Offers and pacts, tight-lipped smiles that hid grudges and oaths that were broken as soon as they were made. You had no taste for the arguments over who was the best swordsman of the realm or what material made the best breastplate that your brothers engaged in either.

So you found yourself among your childhood friends with whom you’d driven Septas and Maesters to madness when you were under their tutelage. Some were married, and some even with children already. Though they did not quite delve into the philosophical inquiries of just how much the realm suffered for the fall of Valyria, their gossip was suitable enough to pass the evening.

With your cup in hand, you seated yourself within the close circle that whispered and giggled.

“Oh, dear Y/N, come sit. We were just conversing on the charms of certain Princes.”

“Oh, come off it! I only said I would choose him if I absolutely had to. He is the handsome one of the three.”

“Well, I personally would give my favour to Ser Criston Cole, if you catch my drift.” one of the girls rubbed her swollen belly while staring at the man standing guard across the hall from them.

Y/N grimaced, only half-jokingly. She knew her mother wasn’t fond of Ser Criston, and neither was she.

“Jeyne, who is it that you would choose so… grudgingly? The handsome of the three?” Y/N teased the girl with a plump face and auburn hair that was held in a bun with several colourful ribbons. She and Y/N were the only ones left unmarried, and by the looks of her attire, at least one of them was determined to change it that night.

“Oh, well…” she inhaled and took a large sip from her wine. Then she took a bite from the likewise large cut of cake on her lap to stall the answer.

“You know…” Then her voice lowered. “Prince Aegon.”

Then the girls groaned jokingly and erupted into laughter. Except for Y/N who only gave her a secret, understanding smile.

“Come on now, Jeyne! HE IS—he is a drunkard!”

“And he sired so many bastards they say the Flea Bottom has turned white-haired—oh, sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N only waved her dismissively. Aegon was Alicent’s problem.

“He is at least… intact!” Jeyne spoke with a mouth full of cake. “Unlike his brother! That man… he scares me. I saw him down the hall just this noon. There is something about him—”

“You mean… Prince Aemond?” Y/N perked up. Now, that was a Prince she would converse on.

Unbeknownst to them, behind the heavy tapestry that divided a corner from the Throne Room and reserved a makeshift parlour for the guests, Prince Aemond was eavesdropping on the conversation. He was nursing a cup of wine stronger and more bitter than the ones ladies drank. Though the conversation first grabbed his attention in case a treacherous slander was to be spread—Rhaenyra and her bastard sons were invited, after all—he remained because he was simply bemused. Though he didn’t expect his name to be spoken in a conversation on handsome men and potential husbands. He leaned on of the stone pillars that held the tapestry up in hopes of identifying the ladies.

“It is the scar. Absolutely,” Suesane pointed to the right side of her face, just where Y/N’s half-brother slashed Aemond’s eye out some years back.

“Oh yes. It really is something. I sure am glad we are not to see it entirely.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N murmured matter-of-factly. The girls all turned to her with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What? It is not as bad as you say, I’m certain. I would like to see it. I hear he has a sapphire for a right eye now.”

Aemond couldn’t fight the smirk off his face and leaned even closer to the tapestry to make out the hushed voice of his brave champion.

“Do not toy with us! Imagine him… in… you know… your bedchamber. That is dreadful!”

“On the contrary. I think his scar is… well, I think it is handsome, like him. It suits him. It adds to his charm—”

“His charm! The man is a recluse and a maimed—”

“You are forgetting yourself, Emely!” Y/N spoke up. The fierce backlash forced the girls into silence. Y/N was of the highest-standing title, after all.

The girls scrambled to pacify the tone that shifted drastically with Princess Y/N’s outburst. From the other side, Aemond was intrigued now more than ever. A girl would defend him so feverishly even when he was not around, when she stood to gain nothing from shining up to him in his absence. She truly was his champion, it seemed. Besides, who could command the silence of spoiled, empty-headed pigs for ladies? Could it be? No! No it could not be his niece.

“I only meant that I hear Prince Aemond is a skilled warrior and a scholar, too. Do not be too harsh on him.” Y/N cooled off as well, attempting to salvage the chatter that she cut with her words which might very well have been Valyrian steel.

Aemond had to find out. He had to see. Y/N was too fond of her brothers to favour him. All Seven Gods together couldn’t make her see Aemond as anything but a brute and a bully. So, against his better judgment, he lifted the tapestry. It gave some of the ladies quite the scare as they gasped and shrieked. The cake on Jeyne’s lap fell to the floor with a loud clatter. They were like skittish horses galloping away from a dragon.

“Ladies,” Aemond greeted them with a nod and a smirk. In his mind, his entrance was no cause for alarm, yet to the girls, he seemed like a barbarian Dornish warrior who was intend on having their heads. It amused him all the same that they were scared near death.

“Princess,” he then turned to Y/N who was sitting tall, though her eyes betrayed the surprise his entrance was to her.

“Prince—ahem, Prince Aemond. Uncle.”

Was he just passing by and decided to give the poor girls a scare? That was indeed like him to do so. If not, just how much did he hear?

“I heard a matter unsettled on my brother. And…” he cocked his head to the side with a mischievous, lopsided grin, staring directly at Y/N. He blinked once, twice. With each shutting and opening of his eye, his bemused expression faded into something more difficult to read, something darker that unsettled even Y/N.

“And on my scar.”

“My Prince—we—we meant no—” one of the girls babbled, but the rise of Aemond’s hand stopped her swiftly.

“Allow me to chime in. You wished to see it, dear Niece,” his hand moved up to the eyepatch.

“Avert your precious eyes, my fair ladies,” he spoke with no concern to conceal the contempt he felt for the girls. And they looked all over the room but in Aemond and Y/N’s direction.

Y/N leaned closer in her seat like a woman famished at a rich supper. She often thought about Aemond, about how things could’ve been only if Queen Alicent and her mother could get along better. She also explored her body to the thought of her uncle—more times than she liked to admit.

Then, Aemond pulled the patch off. An icy blue eye and a darker cut of sapphire glimmering in the middle of a dark trail of once-torn flesh, a gift from Luke, stared back at Y/N.

“So see it for yourself.”

One of the girls, braver than the others, tried to steal a glance between her fingers but gasped in terror and turned her head away with a shrill “Oh, Gods be good!”

Y/N took a sharp breath, though Aemond scoffed because he assumed she was just as disgusted as the rest, she only realized his scar was much more handsome than the one she imagined with her trembling hands between her legs under the covers back at Dragonstone.

“That’s what I thought,” Aemond spoke with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. Though from the beating of her heart and the rushing of her mind, Y/N missed it. To Aemond, his niece was a coward just like the rest, and she’d sooner marry a pompous lord than to look at his face again.

“Enjoy your evening, ladies. Princess.”

Y/N chased after him. There was no point in staying anyway. The silence had fallen like a heavy blanket over a corpse upon Aemond’s departure.

Y/N reached for Aemond and grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“That was unnecessary.” Yet also highly intriguing. Captivating. Seducing.

Aemond gave her a joyless smile. “I warned you so, dear Niece.”

“It was not me who needed the courtesy of sparing the scare—”

“I do not care for the other girls. You claimed you could brave it. And yet—”

“And I did, did I not?”

Y/N stepped forward, now they were dangerously close to one another in the dark corner of the hall.

“Take it off and I shall brave it again if it pleases you, Aemond.” Please do take it off so I can admire it once more.

And he did. A surprise to both himself and Y/N, he pulled the eye patch off and the flames of candles glimmered off the sharp angles of sapphire. Aemond expected that without her audience, Y/N would speak her true mind. Surely, she’d tell him just how grotesque he looked and his ugly scar would haunt her even when she would be back at Dragonstone.

Instead, Y/N stepped closer, rose on her toes to reach for his face, and gently, oh so gently, ran her fingertips across the length of the scar. Where her soft fingers ran, scorching heat came off and flowers of spring blossomed—and they withered and died just as soon as her fingertips moved on.

Aemond was paralyzed under her touch. A lesser woman would’ve screamed for her life and run for the guards or the Queen. With shaky breaths, his heavy-lidded eye met Y/N’s.

“I truly think it’s beautiful,” she whispered, openly enamoured by his charm. Her finger stopped just beneath the sapphire, her palm dangerously close to caressing his cheek. “I shall forever regret the cruelty of my brother. But I shall also envy your lady wife when the time comes, for she will get to see you as you are now, for eternity.”

Y/N’s words sank like an anchor inside Aemond. She spoke sincerely, which made her words all the scarier. Aemond was used to artificial politeness, not to words spoken from the heart as Y/N did. And admittedly, he gave very little thought to marriage. Once he realized his sapphire eye was an object of terror for women, he shut the idea out. When the time came, as Y/N put it, his mother would choose a girl profitable enough to marry. And they wouldn’t be the first nor the final miserable couple in the realm.

Yet, there Y/N was with her finger on his scar and with the impossible promise that it wouldn’t have to be so.  

“Hm. If you speak true, perhaps you know me very little, niece.”

“Oh, on the contrary, uncle. I believe I know you better than most.”

The murmured exchange was cut abruptly when Y/N gripped Aemond’s shoulder to raise herself, and Aemond’s hands reached for her waist to keep her stable. Y/N tilted her head up and Aemond down and to the side in unison, and their lips felt as if they were created for each other.

Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry

[nothinghereisworking]

Mingled Grief

Teen (references to death/dead bodies) General ~700 words

Maeglin has never been good at letting go.

Caragdûr had not looked nearly so menacing from above, a distant field of dark rock which hid its depths in shadow.  As Maeglin ventured into the forest of sword-sharp spires rising around him like tongues of flame, his father’s curse hung heavy in his mind - to follow him in death.

Shadows were tricky things; he knew this well.  It was too easy to misjudge shapes and distances, and more than a few times he slipped, feeling the bite of ragged edges against his skin, heedless of the spotted trail of blood he left in his wake.

Too far to turn back but still a long way from where the body lay, he set his mind to working out how he would manage the return journey carrying that burden.  He bit back a choked sob as the word crossed his mind: not a burden, his father; his father’s body..

The grief of his mother’s death was still too overwhelming to properly let it settle.  Though she had died at his father’s hand the two events were utterly disconnected in his mind, and yet they had blended into a single, gaping hole which threatened to devour him.

The sun had long fled the sky by the time he reached his destination.  Maeglin knelt as best he could at his side, grateful for the darkness which did a little to hide the worst of the gruesome sight.  Partly from the exertion, partly in despair, he bent over his father’s chest and wept.

***

If merely reaching the body had been a feat, the return journey felt insurmountable, but he could do naught else but try.  It was sheer force of will which saw him out at last, unwilling to leave his father behind now that he held him.  As the golden rays of Arien crested Echoriath, he stood, exhausted and bleeding, clutching his shrouded prize.

For all the effort to retrieve Eöl from the stone forest, he was not sure what he was going to do with him now.  To bring him into the city would be to invite disaster, to leave him, unconscionable.  He supposed he could dig a grave beneath the eaves of some distant trees where he was unlikely to be disturbed, but visits would be too easily marked and his trespass soon discovered.  He did not fear his newfound family, exactly, but nor did he wish to test the bounds of his uncle’s patience should he so flagrantly violate his judgement.

He needed time to think.  Caragdûr could shield him for now; he tucked the body into a shallow crevice and covered it with stones.  Resting his hand on the makeshift cairn, he swore he would return, though he did not know to whom that oath was given, his father or himself.

***

The tomb of Aredhel Írissë Ar-Feiniel was placed in the midst of the garden east of Gar Ainion.  A solemn procession, led by Turgon - with Idril on his right and Maeglin on his left - oversaw the placing of her body and the laying of the marble coverstone, carved with a sculpted relief of her upon a racing steed, hair flowing free.  Bile stung Maeglin’s throat.  It was a bitter mockery of the freedom she never quite achieved.  Or perhaps she had at last.

Maeglin had made one request; giving no opinion on the style or structure of the memorial, wanting only a single night alone to grieve unmarked.  Turgon granted it, ordering the court and surrounding grounds cleared and every window which overlooked the garden shuttered from twilight until dawn.

The marble cap proved so heavy it almost sabotaged his plans, but a little maneuvering and a lot of leverage, and before dawn Eöl’s body lay beside his mother’s.  Even as tears streaked his face he laughed - she would have been so furious with him for this.  No matter the evils that had brought them to his moment, they were both his parents.  He could not bear to choose between them a second time.

____________________________________________________________

Caragdûr means "dark spike". It was the place of Eöl's execution and, ultimately, Maeglin's death also.

I was inspired by the stone forest of Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park in Madagascar which gave me the idea that, perhaps, rather than being a single spire of rock, Caragdûr had been far more intimidating and dangerous, covering the whole north side of Amon Gwareth with razor-sharp peaks that would make for a very nasty end.

[wheneclipsefalls]

The forest never feel so cold before.

Neteyam's mind wanders more than often as usual as he removes the arrow from sturmbeest, which comes along a prayer afterwards.

He still can't stop thinking over the fact A'bey sweared her oath of fealty to him, and instead of the usual disapproving, harsh glance he'd received from Jake (when the older man is not pleased with the situation), his father ended up pushing him to return the loyalty proven by one of the most fiercest warrior among their clan.

"A'bey..." He could still feel his blood rushing, cold and overwhelming, back then when they're alone, trying to look over the situation. "You know I——"

Before he'd even continue, the warrior with each a beauty mark adorning both her eyes raised one of her arms and stopped him. Her voices was solemn, deep like the sand.

"Neteyam," A'bey watched in amusement as the High Prince's ears swished and folded, one of his obvious weaknesses to show that he's nervous, she'd have to find a reason to hinder it within the ground.

But... It's nice, to know the one she'd follow till the end has a heart that may weave one of the greatest future of the land.

"I didn't choose you because you're the heir of the Olo'eyktan, I chose you solely because I see you."

I see you as the one I would follow.

I see you as the one I would cry for.

I see you as the one I would die for.

For so, may the Old Gods and Eywa be my witnesses, to the one I swear and to it who returns.

I, A'bey te Ti Nì'ite, swear my life to Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, forever and always, loyal and sincere.

And she could swear the moment he gave her the faint smile she'd always see around him, in spite of the little discomfort knotting at the pit of his stomach, she'd succeeded.

Oh, no. Sikì would kill her. Tawpto too. Gosh, why is he crying!? Shit, she'd have listened to Tarsem! Her twin brother is right, she'd asked beforehand——

"Sometimes, I must admit that I can't see the vision you guys see along me," Neteyam chuckles as he sees A'bey being a mess. "Lo'ak said I'd be a skxawng if I push him away when I refused to let him join me, Kiri ignored me for a week when I did so as well. Not to say Sikì and Tawpto, I knew you'd heard it back then."

"Which would make you one again if you dared to reject me," A'bey adds on, following his direction as his hands move up to take off one of the ambers from his songcord. "But... looks like I win."

Neteyam’s not sure where to look instead of looking back at those eyes with pride, but even if he don't, the warrior won’t pursue him further. He knows this, and she knows he knows it.

She's like a sister he'd never known, just like Sikì and Tawpto, they're the brother who protected him before he even realized he's closed to death end.

Now, there's another name added to that list.

When she drops her hand away, and moves up to her own songcord, to the way she presents her own jewel of green into his palms, neither of them is surprised by her exit.

Which left him now, alone, with a sturmbeest who's dead and wouldn't be given a proper cut before the young man next to it recovers from his senses.

Neteyam, however, is still surprised by how… strange, this feels after all it happened.

The guilt of running away from all the expectations has been a shadow the whole time it follows him. And it sharpens even more now, when he knows he can't yet figure it out, and align the greatest vision of others within himself.

Tawpto told him there's still time before he became the next Olo'eyktan. But, what if he can't? What if a way turns wrong, and he just accepts the changes as usual.

It all feels wrong. It just feels so wrong.

Maybe he shouldn't, if he could just——

Before he even realized, the night has begun.

And so does the Night Hunt.

Neteyam hid his presence safe and sound, deep and high within the woods as he runs across from ground to ground, jump across from tree to tree, following the cloaked figure as his heart keeps on racing.

When was the last time he'd feel this way? He felt this when he first held Lo'ak's arms, when Kiri and Spider was brought in to their family, when Tuktirey was in his arms. He felt this when he underwent his Iknimaya and succeded in one try, bonding with Yes. He felt this whenever he's in the forest.

But never once those were overwhelming. Those were safe and wouldn't turned his back, capable of him to run and never look back. This, however——

Miracle, would be a suitable word. For how long he'd never felt this way, this free? And if he can, he'd hold onto it forever.

There's a sweet scent of dreams, like the cotton candy Norm brought for him back then. But this, it isn't too sweet. It doesn't sweet into your core, and makes you wanna question if other candy taste this sweet. Instead, it's the kind that makes you want to crave even more.

Neteyam isn't sure how far he'd run. But he knows all too well he's damn for sure when the cloaked figure glided down their spiritual animal.

——When the grace of the eclipse blessed beyond her entirety.

And that's when you noticed him.

You're there, surprise all over your face. "Oh." You said with shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize someone would be here."

Neteyam's heart trembles when he tries to surpress the urge to wrap you within his arms. For a while, all he wants is you, just you.

His eyes moved over to your cloak as he tried to take you all in, to figure who you are. It didn't take him long before he realized you're the daughter of one of his father's general, the one who wouldn't be able to be close to the sun.

There's a bitter taste of bile suddenly rises in the back of his throat, he clenches his teeth, before he dropped to the ground.

You rushed towards him next, and before you realised and could back away, his Alpha instinct has already captured the best of his entirety, pulling you into his arms as he tried so hard to be close to you.

Your heart skips a beat, and a shiver races down your spine. Frozen in place, your mind races as you triesd to push him away, trying to make sense of the unexpected touches. You tried to tear off him. He could feel it all, and no, he wouldn't let you do so.

"Don't," He whispers, sending honey bites towards deep of your core as he commands, as he pleads. "Just stay with me."

"Please."

And who'd reject an Alpha, maybe a feisty Omega in heat, but never the subtle Beta who nourishes a line.

The coolness of your coolness and the sensation of your softness remains a stark contrast to the bursting flame of his body. You wouldn't dared to look in him in eyes, and Neteyam can't help but be amused. He'd be frustrated, but he finds you adorable. Never once he'd met a Beta so shy and so, so damn free.

His eyes were fixed on you now, slow trail up and down.

He lets you go after a while, not before taking your hands and plsces it against his own cheeks. You didn't move away, maybe it's just a trick to hinder his mind, but he felt a sense of willingness in you.

Not before your ikran began to swap you away. It throws you across shoulders to its back and glares at him furiously. Neteyam waits for it to attack him, but the Imran jumps off the cliffs instead and rushes off as another troupe of Imran casts over it, binding a cloud of shadows.

Only when a flick of sunlight blinks over, he finally calms down and realises what happens.

A new day dawning.

Okay... So, this is the one shot I promised to Eclipse for when Whithered published. The story started long before Neteyam decided to join the Night Hunt, but it's about his actual first encounter with Y/N. Y/N won't remember much of Neteyam as her instinct is to how closed she's to death when her Ikran pulled her away from Hell Gate. Just so you know, I'm not a writer, nor an editor. So this is pure draft, I just poured in whatever came in my mind. A'bey, Sikì and Tawpto are characters I'm working on to add in Neteyam's troupe, which I'd promised Eclipse as well. It'll take some time again but for now I wish you have a good read, Eclipse. And I'm really, really sorry if I didn't capture either Neteyam or Y/N well like the way you do, Eclipse. I tried my hardest. Here's a background of A'bey btw, if you like:

Name: A'bey

Age: 20, 1 year older than Neteyam

Eye: Amber

Hair: Black, cornrows with a low bun

Physical Features: She is tall and robust, with a beauty mark adorning each of her eyes. She's often seen in armor, wielding bows and daggers.

Bio: Twin sister of Tarsem, stands out among Jake's squad for her unwavering loyalty to the next Olo'eyktan, drawn to the young warrior's exceptional archery skills and leadership potential.

Relationship: Abey views Neteyam as a close friend of her, and frequently shares babysitting stories with him. They bond over their shared experiences in archery and being part of large families. Abey is always protective of Neteyam, especially during hunts, showering her fiesty nature towards him.

Eclipse, I hope you like this! BYE!

- 🥔-anon

Baby I don't know why you say you aren't a writer. You just wrote your own piece of art so therefore you are a writer. Simple as that<3

Love the drama in this! Neteyam is definitely put in a hard spot in this version. It would be interesting to see how he handles it.

Love you to pieces, babe! Thanks for sharing<3

[imzsuzsis-blog]

I left the area with Oscar, because they said that the fire was not a big spectacle. And I was in socks, everyone was looking at me, yes, I had half a pair of shoes on, and my makeup and makeup.

"Gentlemen, the danger is averted" *in Catalan*

"Fuck Osco, my love stayed inside."

"Don't complain about mine either... If I were you, I'd be very happy that at least Penelope is okay."

"Oh, shut up!!!! Leah died in my hands koala queen!!!!”

And I ran away sobbing, the tiny fetus was still in my head, it was 26.5 cm long and 358 grams. Life was simply impossible, Leah's heart stopped on its own inside the womb, when Amanda took her out first, I burst into sobs. I was just looking for Loki's face, but he was crying, as was Ollie, it was shocking, a fucking word came to my mind then, "Fuck me."

,,Police booth? Add English? Here in the Barcelona Paddock?”

I looked with tears in my eyes and started caressing. It was made of wood and had a nice dark blue color, but we would wear it now or black. When I got to his door, I opened it and there was no one there, I thought, according to the time, it must be an Englishman like me.

,,Hallo? Is there anyone living here besides me?”

I went inside and looked at my phone, where it spread like a virus that I was standing outside the motorhome in socks and watching the flames with Oscar. I went further and further along the barrier until I noticed something that looked like a control panel. Buttons, levers or whatever were on it, just a name, not who it belonged to. So to distract myself, I started playing with him, but all I could hear was music.

"Don't do it... MR..."

I told him playfully because his hips were already moving very sexily when he heard music, more than me. I turned off the music and my unexpected passenger turned around and froze.

"Who are you?"

I started to back away from the counter and almost fainted again, only this time I was scared.

"I am the doctor. Who are you to trick me like that..."

"I'm Lando... Well, I think I have to go... I'll go down and run... For him..."

I opened the door and closed it again.

"I failed, I can't be here in this universe!!!"

My legs started shaking as I slowly walked back to him in disbelief.

————-

Meanwhile

Oscar was looking for Lando through me, because he thought he had almost disappeared, here in the pits.

"I say Osco, I didn't see him, only the TARDIS hid in it.”

He even snaps at him that it's a lie.

"Fuck Max, the Tardis is just fiction, just like Doc is Doctor Who."

I shook my head because he doesn't believe in such things.

"Fuck me, he was still standing here, right in front of my eyes!!! The blue Police booth, box and in!!!! Oath!!!!"

Even the two Mercedes pilots were watching our quarrel.

"You guys will stop your petty fights, okay?"

"Delicate quarrel? Lewis?”

He started backing away with his hands up, like a little girl.

"No, it doesn't matter, there was a star of the world, even a universe bigger than us, wouldn't you be happy for him?"

"Shut up, George (I'm engaged) Russell."

He kicked Oscar, who crouched on the ground moaning loudly.

"Your Lily!!!"

"Don't get the woman involved!!!"

——————

the reality

previous day, in the hotel

I massaged him back, she was calmer, but it turned out that Leah fell asleep when she felt that she wasn't moving as much.

"You see, you don't have to be afraid."

Smile, but only correspond with Amanda if he likes it, but he has to go back to him on Monday.

"Write better if you come too."

He showed me the message and kissed me on the forehead.

"Measured?"

"It will be a bit expensive, but we are going for a 4D ultrasound. They will be very small, but we will see their gender and how they move. They are very active.”

"Honey, it's not too expensive and we already know the genders."

"Loki, I can still fit in. I'm at 22 weeks. I would like to see them until. they don't cover each other, do you?"

I turned him to me, sat him on my knee and kissed him on the cheek.

,,I'm in. What are these papers?”

He fell on me and started to cry.

"Many of the leaders and younger pilots decided..."

Sobbing and shaking began.

"To give the twins an inheritance, but the leaders are in the majority... There were few words from Horner or Zak."

I saw whose names were on it, three did not sign it in the end or four.

,,The motherfuckers!!!! You can do it!!!! You are not eighteen, you will be twenty-four or even twenty-five when they come into the world!!!! I will file a petition somewhere to protect you.”

He clung to me tightly and I was shaking and crying, and I took a photo of this shit and put it on the internet, so that these fuckers can be punished. In less than a second, this photo went around the media and everyone blamed the leaders and now we are at the point where they hate them.

"Lando..."

"Leave it, I'll go home to England after the race and discuss everything with mom."

"No, you're not a fragile rose, you're a strong piece of carbon that can get back up once you're wounded."

I wiped the tears from him eyes, which have been gathering, gathering and gathering in an incomprehensible way since he was pregnant, Lando is not in a crying mood.

"I'm telling you they're forcing you to believe it!!!"

He squeezed as hard as he could, I was still wiping his tears, even though he is waiting for them unbelievably and the room is almost late, when we look there we both smile and think only that *our daughters* will live there in a few months.

[littlemisswriter]

Saving London - Final Part

Summary:

Sometimes distance doesn’t heal estranged lovers. There was so much to say yet only silence from internal conflict. But when that conflict turns into real danger, will there be enough time for Jacob and Lily to put aside fears and speak their truths?

Hiya, I have FINALLY finished this AU series with this final part. It is definitely longer than the others as it wraps everything in this storyline up. I hope you have all enjoyed x

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Time had dragged on agonisingly slow, being a little over a week since Lily had leapt from the clock tower alone that night. She hadn’t been any less preoccupied with her gang or leads that aided her against the Templars, but that hadn’t meant her mind had been elsewhere. Her last interaction with Jacob had left a heavy pull in her chest that she couldn’t shake no matter how she attempted to remedy it. In the time apart, the two hadn’t seen each other, with good reason. Well… that hadn’t been entirely true.

Only after the second day of the encounter with a tremendous amount of overthinking had the assassin gotten restless. She remembers fighting back and forth between her head and her heart as she paced through her carriage on what to do. She left Jacob so coldly, and the poor man didn’t deserve it in the least, especially when he had opened up his heart to her. It did not sit right. So against her better judgement, she leapt from the train and made way to his usual patrol spot. Her legs anxiously taking her through the streets, keeping to the shadows with her hood pulled up to avoid recognition; and to hid away her turmoil from those that glanced over long enough to notice.

Taking higher ground was a better alternative, knowing it would inherit a better chance of stealth when all she had intended to do was spy. Having intention to do just that would make anyone think she was mad, but Lily had to see him, even if for a brief moment.

And she had, finding him stood alone in the alleyway with a few urchins scarcely stood around a close bonfire in attempt to get warm. The assassin crouched down along the roof, brows furrowing as she lay eyes on the man watching over the area; his eyes turning to the children every so often before looking back out onto the street.

He kept to himself mostly, not engaging as much with his comrades as he usually did as his mind was helplessly elsewhere. It was hard to detect his expression, his face hidden under another hat he acquired for himself, though his body language in itself was very telling. And the guilt that seeped into her thoughts was heavy, inhaling heavily as she soon made way from the area through the rain that began to set in.

That night days ago hadn’t left her mind; Jacob hadn’t left her mind if she was being completely honest. She had really left an impact on him. And herself too. Lily did her best to push through it all and remain her usually cheeky, light-hearted self, but it was tough. There was no denying that she missed gazing onto his smile when they were together, or how they reeked havoc whenever they visited the pub to share a pint. Most of all it was his company she missed, how he was one of the very few that could reach a genuine laugh from the woman, and somehow always finding themselves in mischief in situations they definitely should not be in.

Expressing emotions wasn’t one of her strongpoints, having shut off that part of herself when she was very young. And now she seemed to be paying the price. Growing up as an assassin was very lonely, the lifestyle was hidden under an oath as well as her true identity. And the memories and experiences she had were vividly different from those of anyone else, yet she had to keep it all a secret; a lesson she had learnt very early in life. With all that in mind, it’s what made it difficult for her to create any real intimate connections with people. Yet her heart yearned.

There was something special about that man, something that ignited a fire in her after a long time. It was a feeling that didn’t come to her often. But this past week had her realise that she could not deny her heart anymore no matter how hard she tried.

The rain was incessant and the days long. That type of weather usually brought her a sense of peace, and now it acted as white noise that she found herself lost in. Her body swayed every now and then as Bertha tracked another mile along the tracks. The carriage that she sat in was warm with a golden hue lit by the surroundings candles. Her body slouched back into the lounge as she listened to Henry Green, her ally and friend, stand before her and speak of another endeavour about this Precursor Artefact he had been infatuated with since the day they met. His interest never differed from it, always so focused on this so called ‘shrowd’ and all the relentless study that came with it.

Henry didn’t feel fieldwork was his speciality, but rather being in the confines of a room with his nose in a book. He planned and strategized; it was what he was best at. So, a lot of the times, Lily had been the one to venture out on his behalf for these findings of his. It hadn’t been all bad however, it kept her busy as well as everything else she dedicated herself to.

“-a material that speaks of something rather interesting. The Kenway mansion, the original home of the assassin and pirate, Edward Kenway, that lived here right in London over a century ago!” He placed the book down that he was holding, putting his hands on his hips as he sighed, revelling in this new revelation he had discovered. “It’s all rather fascinating, and I will need your help to find…” He trailed off, turning around to look back at Lily, though she appeared deeply lost in thought. His brows furrowed as he stepped closer to her, the woman not reacting to his movement as her eyes loosely locked onto the safe across from herself. “Miss Harvard?” His call was enough to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, lifting her chin from her palm as she averted her wide-eyed gaze back onto Henry. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Henry. Do go on.” She straightened her posture, sitting upright as to prove to her friend that she was now attentive. But Henry could see past it, slowly coming down to sit by her side as he looked over the assassin with a hint of worry.

“You don’t seem yourself, if I may be so bold.” Her demeanour wasn’t as well hidden as she thought. But then again, the assassin was quite perceptive. “Is there something bothering you?” Lily’s mouth opened to reply but she had not truly had an answer for him. So, she sealed her lips once more and glanced away, confirming with certainty what Henry had already suspected. “You know, it’s not best to keep these things cooped up, Miss Harvard. It won’t do you any good.” Henry knew she was bold and confident with most things, but it had become obvious overtime that important, more personal topics, were ones that she tended to avoid. He understood, but he still didn’t like to see his friend suffer so.

Yet she still hesitated, being close with the man didn’t mean that it made it any easier on expressing how she felt. It was not the assassin way. Not her way.

“You mustn’t worry, I am fine.” She attempted to deny his questions of worry with a small smile, but the man was not naïve. He could only give her a concerned look, tilting his head as if conveying the message that he knew her words did not ring true. And she knew he was a smart man, and to continue to feign contentment in front of him would almost be an insult t his intelligence. So, she sighed, dropping the façade as she leant further down into her lap, elbows resting over her knees as her fingers laced loosely together.

“You know I am always here if you wish to talk,” he coaxed her gently, “we can speak of business at another time when you tell me what bothers you so.” His words gentle and his patience astounding at times. But it seemed to be enough for the woman to concave, sighing as she took a moment, doing her best to rattle her thoughts together enough to explain it the best she could.

“I just…” She looked to Henry, the man easily sat waiting for her to speak her mind. She sighed again, “I believe that… I may have,” she looked down to her feet, “possibly grown affections for someone.” The last part was spoken quieter, almost like she was embarrassed to admit it. And she didn’t receive an immediate response which stemmed her worry, so she looked back up at Henry to see him offering a small warm smile. It had her blink back as she felt heat rush to her face at the confession. But she continued on. “But it’s all so difficult. I pushed him away.” Henry listened intently, as a good friend. “And now I’m tormented with nothing but regret.”

Her eyes slowly drew up to her targets on the board, each Templar tied to the Mastermind of it all: Crawford Starrick. It reminded her that there was an entire city outside this carriage that needed her, whether it knew it or not. A goal that she was willing to risk her life for in a fight against oppression. It was that simple, or so it had been. Now she was riddled with other prioritise other than herself, something very new to her. It was all overwhelming. Henry too had turned his sights onto the same thing, eventually looking back to Lily to see her mind whirring faster than she could comprehend. She looked lost and torn at the predicament.

But a hand placed gently onto her shoulder had it stop, her attention pulled back onto her friend. The two shared a silent moment, as if Henry was offering her a moment of peace with a reassuring look. It had done nothing less than confuse her, trying to salvage her thoughts the best she could as she had shown too much already.

“What is his name?” He took his hand back, the question unexpected. She couldn’t believe she had finally told him and that they were truly speaking of this out loud. Lily could have laughed if she wasn’t so pent up. Her eyes drifted elsewhere, and she couldn’t help but twinge a smile at the thought of the Rook.

“Jacob.” His name rolled off her tongue like silk, a reflection of her thoughts on the man.

Henry could see by her small smile that Lily had indeed held deep affections for this fellow. Her feelings deeper than she had realised, but to the watchful eye, it could not have been clearer.

“What a splendid name.” Henry nodded, doing his best to lighten her spirits. “You know, I understand that our Creed dictates us to disassociate from such feelings. I have even been told that having these personal feelings could compromise missions.” Lily looked up at Henry once more as he went on, “but I am not against one person loving another.” The way he saw it, you could train an assassin to detach themselves from people as much as you’d like. But the one element that no one could ever take away from you, was your humanity.

His words planted a new thought into her head, that maybe she had been looking at this all wrong; even going so far as being too harsh on herself. And especially too harsh on Jacob.

Henry wasn’t what most others would deem a true assassin. He was seen as softer than the others due to his hesitation of violence and fieldwork. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing; it offered a different perspective. And though she never would have believed it, her heart slowed as did the weight in her chest lift ever so slightly. She faced danger and even death quite regularly, so what harm would it do to indulge in your feelings every once in a while?

“Go to him.” Her eyes widened as he nodded, glancing towards the carriage door as if to encourage her to do so. “I am still gathering as much intel as I can on the Kenway mansion, so it can wait a little while longer.” Her expression was nothing short of surprise as he offered her his own kind smile. “Love like this doesn’t come across a person every day. And if you don’t try, you might spend the rest of your life regretting it.” That was certainly something she did not want.

Her gaze tore over to the very door Henry insinuated at, conflicted as she did so. But he was right. If she didn’t take this opportunity now, she might very well miss it. So, with a hard swallow, she stood up to her feet and released a nervous exhale before slowly smiling with one last glance to the assassin.

“Thank you, Henry.” With that, she exited the train. The locomotive was not near a station, yet it didn’t deter the woman, jumping down onto the open tracks as her shoes squelched from the terrain beneath her.

Of course it was now raining harder than before. But she was determined, pulling her cowl from her robes over her face as she made haste to the Strand. She hadn’t known how long she was running, but her speed never slowed. She was on a new mission, and time only slipped away the longer it took her to reach the man.

The sight of the usual area Jacob would patrol came into her vision, weaving past two carriages along the cobblestone which earnt yells from their drivers. But she paid no heed. Her heart race sped up as she turned the corner to the alley with expectation to see the Rook there, though just as quickly as it sped up did it drop to find him nowhere in sight. Lily didn’t understand. Her brows furrowed as she instead set eyes on another two Rooks in Jacob’s place; she approached the brute and woman adorned in green. They seemed pleasantly surprised to see their leader, greeting her as such as she came before them.

“Well ‘ello Miss Harvard, we didn’t expect to see’s you out in such damning weather.” The two genuine as they attempted to converse with her, however her mind was elsewhere so she kept it brief.

“Glad to make your acquaintance. Now, I am indeed in a hurry, looking for a Rook as it may. His name is Jacob Frye, he usually patrols this area. Where is he?” The assassin was quite direct, looking between them impatiently as they looked sceptically at each other. It was an odd request yet very specific. But they could see time was of the essence and neither wanted to face the trouble of delaying her any longer.

“He’s been moved Miss.” The woman spoke up, an arm raised over her head to keep the rain from her eyes the best it could, though it had already saturated her head to toe thoroughly, so the attempt was in vain.

“Moved? Moved where? Why?” She hadn’t known of this and certainly did not arrange it as such.

“Well, it was an impulsive idea it was. There’s been trouble in the city for the past few days and our numbers are dwindling, ma’am.” She explained.

“It’s the Blighters,” the brute added, “they’s doing their best to seize back the burrow as we took all the rest, we ‘ave.” Lily cussed under her breathe. She had heard of a rally within the city but thought nothing of it, truly believing that the Rooks numbers would outweigh the threat. And her mind had been occupied elsewhere over the past few days that she hadn’t truly the time to orchestrate something more efficient to deal with it. Now it appeared to be catching up to her. “Miss?” She snapped from her thoughts and offered a simple nod.

“Thank you. I must make haste, but do continue your patrol here and kill any Blighter that so much as looks your way.” The tone was loud and clear; the assassin not messing about. With that, she turned and made way from the pair. The order of violence condoned by the leader herself momentarily silenced the two, the female Rook could only nod in understanding beneath her hand as she watched the assassin become but a figure in the distance. Her sights turned to her associate, the brute looking a little too chipper by the toothless grin on his face. Her eyes rolled as she smacked his shoulder and turned, the man confused as he followed after her.

“What?!”

Lily came to find a vacant carriage on her way through the street, slowing down to turn on her heel as she commandeered it without second thought. It had been too bad if somebody had needed it, but there were other important matters at hand.

She whipped the horses faster, doing her best to navigate from one burrow to another through the rain, using her eagle vision as aid every so often to avoid running into anything along the way. Lily’s mind was solely on reaching Jacob. Still nervous to face him and express her feelings, yet now there was another dire matter at hand; his safety. Torn in her mind between how she would even approach him after everything she had done, and worried to find him in some sort of conflict that left him helpless at the hands of the Blighters.

No, she couldn’t think that way. He was trained well enough to hold his own. Besides, if she knew anything about the man, it was that he was stronger than he thought. His will alone will keep him alive.

At this time, she could only rush to him, deciding that she would figure out her confession later. It was as Henry said, if she didn’t do this then the regret would weigh her down for the rest of her life. Lily simply had to reach him first.

Finally, she recognised the change of burrow, coming into the city though unsure of where to begin looking. Going back to her training, when in doubt or stuck, retrace your steps and use the resources around you. Somebody knew where he was, and she needed to find that somebody.

Meanwhile, the rain in the city from Jacob’s view was all the same. His eyes cast up to the skies as he felt the heavy droplets splash against his skin. His hat and coat had done a reasonable job at keeping him relatively dry. His eyes lowered back onto the area ahead, patrolling it with two other Rooks by his side. They appeared at somewhat ease despite being reinforcements for this trouble the Blighters had been stirring. There was yet to be a sighting of a redcoat, but that hadn’t meant they were out there lurking in the shadows.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” The muscled Rook of the three spoke up, looking back to Jacob as the young man could only nod with a brief forced smile. “Who’d wanna be inside when you could be drenched out here instead?” He walked ahead of the others, acting as a barrier to scare off any enemies that came their way.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not, Barry.” The other Rook, smaller in size but just as reckless shook his head, his fingers latched together and sat snuggly against the back of his neck. His arms outstretched wide as he glanced over to Jacob as Barry chuckled. “Eh, don’t let him bother you. He’s a buffoon if nothing else.” He nudged Jacob’s shoulder with his elbow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A light tease that didn’t reach his eyes. Luckily no one could truly see them. Jacob’s head was elsewhere that night, seeming to be unable to focus properly on his duties since his last encounter with Lily. The glimpse of her face ran through his mind, quietly sighing to himself as he remembered that evening at the clock tower. Though another memory came by it next, the image of his sister, Evie, approaching him various times throughout the week with concern of his changed behaviour. A twin could sense it like no other, and each time she asked if he was alright, Jacob had only shrugged off her questions. It worried her to see her brother so quiet; he was anything but and his lack of enthusiasm had been consuming him as of recent.

Jacob shook his head at the thought, pushing past it back to the present moment. He had relived that rejection enough; the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about it, let alone think about it. All it did was bring back those emotions. He was a Rook for god’s sake! He needed to pull himself together and let it go. He tried and failed on his own account; it wasn’t as if Lily owed him anything. She was his boss, that’s all it was.

The sound of a sudden gunshot was heard as it pierced through the rain. The three now repressed regret of letting down their guard earlier when trouble was near. “Stop, boy!” The Rook beside Jacob held his arm out, halting the two to a stop. Jacob’s eyes widened slightly as he lay eyes on the larger man before them. He had stopped in his tracks and made no response when he was called upon. “Barry?”

His head slowly tilted to the side before his body fell backwards. He was a hard hit to the ground, immediately rousing concern from the others. But as his friend stepped closer to inspect him, Jacob grabbed the back of his jacket to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t.” Jacob said, now on alert as his eyes stared directly at the hole in the man’s chest by the sounding bullet not mere moments ago. Blood had mixed with the rain, sliding down Barry’s abdomen as he looked up blankly at the sky. His expression of shock was his reaction before his life ended, and it was engraved into Jacob’s brain.

Then, another shot followed by another.

“We’re under attack!” Jacob yelled as he ducked for cover, the other Rook doing the same as he pulled out his own pistol. The sound of active fire became all he could hear, turning his head around the corner to now lay eyes on four Blighters that emerged side by side. It was a surprise attack, and there hadn’t been another Rook nearby that could be called upon as backup. It was now two against four.

They came into line of sight leaving the men no choice but to engage in a brawl. A knife clasped sturdy in Jacob’s hand as the first Blighter made contact. Swinging away with her own knife, the weapon larger than his own putting him at a disadvantage. “You fuckin’ savages!” His fellow gang member, now forced out into the open, shot openly though the bullets not seeming to hit the intended targets. The weather doing its best to cast haze and confusion over the few. Though one of those gunshots was met with a guttural groan, Jacob looking back to see his only other ally now following the same fate as his friend. His heart dropped as he came to realise he was now the only one left, and this woman swinging wildly at him would not let up her attack.

His head snapped back to her as she gained an advantage, kicking under his legs to have him land hard against the ground. Jacob groaned, not having enough time to catch his breathe as the Blighter began roughhousing with him. She jumped onto his chest, sitting on top of him as she attempted to violently murder the man. The madwoman screamed, trying to stab him viciously as he evaded her weapon every time by a whim. The rain and panic of the situation had done him no favours in this moment, and even if he were to push her off, there were three others waiting to snatch him up. It was nearly hopeless. Nearly.

He still had his own knife, taking hit after hit as he waited for an opportunity to inflict his own damage. So with a yell, he swung his arm around and pushed the blade into her side, another cry came from her, this one of agony as the weapon had imbedded itself deeply into her side. The assaults stopped, her body becoming stiff as he panted, pushing her off him and scrambling to his feet. He would have reached for the knife back if the other Blighters had not began making way at him; Jacob stumbling back now unarmed as he turned, running in the opposite direction into a nearby alleyway.

Hopefully he could lose them with sharp turns and tight crevices. His life depended on it. If he could just make an escape back to other fellow gang members than he would be safe to fight for another day. But his chances were looking slim. And then, impossible as he found himself at a dead end. He yelled out in frustration, attempting to climb the wall, but the rain had deemed it too slippery. “Christ!” He hissed, gaze than landing on his gauntlet as he promptly aimed it to the ledge. But luck was not on his side, the mechanism jamming and not doing the one thing he needed it to do. “Christ!” He smacked it a few times, half in hope to get the device working, and the other half in frustration that it had let him down as it did.

Dark laughs then echoed behind him as he spun on his feet, back against the wall as he watched the figures slowly come into light. It was like watching animals prey on their victim, enjoying the kill more than the feast. “Well, well, little flightless bird, are your wings broken?” One called out, mocking him as he swung a machete around. Jacob swallowed hard as his eyes narrowed, growling beneath his breathe as they closed in.

“Well if they weren’t before, they’re surely gonna be now.” This was it. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It only left one option; to fight. If he didn’t try than he was as good as dead anyways, so why not go down with a hefty brawl?

Jacob pushed himself off the wall, stance straightening as his fists balled, standing ready for what was to come. His show of readiness gained a few more chuckles, one Blighter slapping the other across the arm as he feigned fear with a dark grin. “Looks like the little raven wants to fight. Shall we humour his last wish?” Jacob stood in silence, eyes moving between the three as they slowly put away their weapons before advancing on him. He needed to remember the basics of delivering a hard hit alongside countering any attacks. And though he fended himself off relatively well for a little while, he had taken more hits than he was ready for.

“C’mere you!” One yelled, jumping at him a moment too soon. Jacob took the opportunity and grabbed him by the arm, twisting it behind his back before slamming the Blighter into the ground. It was one hell of a fight, and sometimes the man forgot his own strength until he really needed it.

If only Lily could see him now.

“You lit’le bastard!” His attempt was however futile, being knocked off by another, yanking him over and onto the wet, muddy terrain. A fist was felt over his face, inducing a loud ringing to start throughout his ears, followed by another. The action was repetitive and Jacob knew that this was where he was beat. He hadn’t known what to do, if there was anything he could really do.

But then came a turn of events, and the hits stopped. He blinked back, coughing from the pain of the blunt force, feeling the blood from his nose slip down and over his lips. Not a pleasant taste.

The Blighter above delivering the hits reciprocated that of his muscled friend earlier. Lifeless. His arms dropped limply to his sides as his eyes rolled back into his head as his body rolled off and onto the ground beside him. It startled the others also as they all gazed down onto the throwing knife now lodged into the back of his head.

The remaining two Blighters seemed alarmed, looking back up the alleyway to now see a dark silhouette standing at its entrance. Jacob’s eyes widened the best they physically could, his heart almost stopping at the realisation of who it was. There was no mistaking it.

A shuddering breathe came as he could almost feel a wash of relief run through him. His eyes shut momentarily, thanking the grace of god, or whoever it was, that decided that tonight was not yet his time. The remaining Blighters that once held the upper hand now stood uncertain at their new opponent, and while they had been distracted, Jacob attempted to pulled himself back to his feet.

“Who the bloody hell are ya?!” The silhouette never answered but simply closed the distance slowly. Each heavy step they took was deliberate, an element of control as their identity remained unknown. The mystery to who exactly killed their friend with such precise aim did nothing less than embed fear through their stomachs. Neither Blighter would confess it, but they hadn’t a need. You could hear it through their racing heartbeats if you stood close enough. “Leave now! We’re warning ya!”

“Clive… you don’t suppose that’s…” The man originally wiped off his feet by Jacob muttered, looking over to his friend that did not dare to turn his eyes away from the silhouette. “I’ve only ever heard of her. Not from anybody that lived to tell the tale-”

“Shut you fuckin’ mouth!” A hiss came his response as the man pulled back out his knife as he stood ready, the hairs on the back of his neck standing as his fists clutched tightly around his weapon. “You ain’t know who that is!”

Her pace picked up, unsheathing her hidden blade as she did so. Slashes of blood dripped from the tip of the weapon, as if taunting its next victims of their fate. It was in that moment that they knew, the infamous Rook leader now found them and cornered them in their own trap.

“Ah! To hell with it!” The brute swung his knife above his head and charged toward the assassin. Her calm demeanour compared to his friend’s erratic one was enough to tell all of how this interaction would end. He swung first, arm wide to gain speed and strength to his intended strike, though it was all in vain as it never hit its target. His attempt was unmatched to her speed, the assassin finally picking up into a run to gain momentum. There she easily slid between his legs, digging her foot into the ground to gain traction so she could spin around and deliver horrible slices to the back of his knees. He cried out in pain, his legs giving way as she stood, face contorting into one of anger before lodging the blade into the back of his neck.

“Christ! Clive!” A takedown seeming so effortless yet so precise, and the last Blighter standing knew he was next. He looked back to Jacob now leaning against the wall with a hand to his face, anger stemming through him as he yanked out his pistol and aimed it at the gang leader. His hold had been the furthest from steady however, hands shaking as she pushed over the brute and kicked away his knife. “Take another step and I’ll put one right through you!” She turned, unmoving before facing her body toward him completely. He swallowed hard. “N-not another step or I’ll end you right now!”

Her neck craned slightly sidewards, huffing quietly under her breathe at the empty threat before daring to take a step forward. The Blighter’s reflex was fuelled by fear, pulling back the trigger instinctively. But to no avail. The gun had been empty. His eyes widened as he looked at his weapon before bringing his sights back onto the assassin that sheathed her blade.

“Seems like you’re all out.” She spoke, flicking her wrist into her robes and pulling out her own gun. It was too fast to intercept or even process what was happening. There was a gunshot, pain, and then nothing at all. A perfect bullseye between his eyes; the Blighter falling lifelessly into the muddy ground as a result. Jacob swallowed hard once more as he pulled his gaze up onto the woman. His expression softened as she scanned the area; there were no more threats in sight. She ensured it was absolutely safe before letting out a breathe she hadn’t known she’d been holding onto; so cooped up in anger at what they had done to Jacob and her Rooks. She had let off a little steam in what came to be a small massacre. None of it enjoyable, but no less satisfying.

Lily pulled her hood down, the rain hitting her face immediately as she locked eyes with Jacob. It had been the first time in a while they stood face to face, and she could have only wished it was under better circumstances.

His face and body sore, more likely to ache later, but for now it was durable as he set focus on the woman before him. She made way towards him, side stepping the body as he watched. His stance straightened subconsciously as he pushed off the fence, wiping droplets off his face as she came before him. Jacob’s arms now dropped by his sides as he watched her scan over his physic. Lily was assessing the damage those thugs had inflicted on the man, eyes catching onto a few droplets that he had missed. They started down his temple and along his jaw to his chin.

There were no words spoken, Jacob still believing that Lily was actually there in front of him. It had been too long, and he didn’t know what to do or say.

But he needn’t do anything as Lily made the first move, not wasting another moment as she closed the space between them to press her lips against his. Jacob was in shock, feeling her press against him as she did in a way he had been yearning for. His brain malfunctioned, comprehending what was happening. Yet despite the cold weather, he felt warmer with her against him. He came to, finally processing that Lily was kissing him, with a passion that conveyed more than words could in that moment. Humming in delight, he shut his eyes as he kissed her back, his hands coming to her sides as he kept her close.

The kiss lingered, telling how much needed it was between them. Though Lily had been the first to pull away, hands raising to cup his cheeks as she looked over his face once more. There was going to be bruises for sure, but nothing that would deter her attraction from him in any way. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” She whispered. It was the first thing to come from her. Her eyes fluttered down to his nose where a thin streak of blood caught her attention, her thumb lowering to wipe away at it. He flinched slightly, her touch immediately gentler though he hadn’t let her open the distance between them despite. He wanted her close, needed her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Lily,” he shook his head, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She wouldn’t let him give in that easily. There was a need to explain herself to him, it was the least he deserved. “That night at the clock tower, I didn’t kiss you and I’ve regretted it ever since.” He raised his hands to hold onto her elbows, offering a form of comfort as she went on. “It wasn’t because I did not want to. I just could not let you because there is too much you don’t know.” She sighed, dropping her gaze from his eyes, earning a reassuring squeeze from him. “I just…” She lifted her head once more. “You mean more to me than to allow you to blindly get too close. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Lily-”

“Please,” she stopped him, “you need to hear it from me.” She was adamant to be honest and upfront before he made any kind of decision of their companionship. “If you want to be with me, and I mean, truly… want to be with me, then you deserve to know the truth. Everything. And then,” she sighed, “then you can make a decision.”

That was it, it was finally off her chest as she offered him every part of herself. Jacob looked between her gaze, cracking a soft smile as he lifted his hand to her cheek. His touch was exhilarating; her eyes fluttering momentarily as her hands ran down to his chest, still weary of his current condition.

“Look at me.” And she did, the man briefly pressing a soft kiss to her lips as he thumbed her cheek. “I have already made my decision.” He dryly chuckled, groaning as he did by the ache in his chest. Lily soothed it the best she could with her hands. “Truth be told, I made my decision the moment I laid eyes on you.” Her fingers loosely clutched his shirt as her heart yearned at his words. “No matter what you tell me, I’m not going anywhere. As long as it’s by your side.”

She was touched and knew that her feelings were in too deep with this man. It was all or nothing. And for that reason, she quite liked the sound of it.

“All right, Jacob Frye,” she mused, finally cracking a small smile of her own, “let us get out of this weather. There should be cover nearby.” Lily lowered her arms and went to step away, but Jacob grabbed her wrists softly and stepped forward closing the gap. He stole yet another kiss from the assassin, doing his best to make up for the one he had lost all those nights ago with as many as he could now. And Lily could only smile, her chest no longer heavy as she pressed into Jacob’s arms.

[driftward]

Title: O Holy Night Characters: Zoissette Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: The vigil of a Holy knight Notes: None

If you were to ask any Sharlayan, they would, of course, tell you they were not a religious people, as a whole. Oh, sure, individuals were allowed to have their beliefs, and there was no prohibitions against such, but overall, your average Sharlayan, supposedly, treated them as little more than popular superstition.

In practice, however, fundamentally, they were still Eorzeans. And they were themselves travelers from distant shores, and they brought their beliefs with them, and practiced them in their own way. And as an island nation, they were not so isolated as they liked to believe themselves, always bringing in more people, and those people brought with them their own beliefs, and so it all persisted.

However, some gods were venerated more than others. Such as Thaliak and his ewer, looming large over the port, symbolically sharing the wisdom of Sharlayan wherever his waters flowed.

Others were venerated less. In particular, the only presence of the warlike Halone on the entire island was a tiny building made of stone. A plaque on its front detailed the history of how a small group of Ishgardians left their home and brought their talent for stone with them to Sharlayan, where their artisanal skills were welcomed. They had established the parish, and it had stood the test of time, ignored though it was by Sharlayan at large.

As the sun had set, the door to the parish had opened, and a soldier clad in mail took to the steps. Their armor was the grey of Ishgard steel, from the links in their mail to the plate that made up the front of their mask. They had no sword, but they did have a kite shield whose point they planted in the snow, and which they rested their hands on top of.

And there the soldier stood as the day drifted into night, and the snow started to fall, and the cold began to settle in.

A few people walked by. Some gave the soldier a curious look. She responded to none of them, however, and most people saw fit to ignore her altogether, acting as though neither she nor the building she guarded existed.

Much as they probably always had.

Two, however, did not. A girl and a boy, both young. They instead stopped and stared at this strange intruder into their world, a soldier on an island which eschewed violence and avoided conflict. A place that took pride in how it stood apart from such petty concerns. The soldier, then, was a curiosity.

The girl marched up to her, and stood a scant couple of yalms away, fists on her hips, looking up at the stalwart soldier with a frown on her face.

"And just what are you supposed to be, anyroad?" she asked.

The soldier's head turned to look at her. Snow drifted down lazily around the two.

"Well?" the girl demanded.

The soldier looked to her left and right, her motions large and exaggerated, before she slowly and gently crouched down on one knee, leaning her shield to one side. She waved the girl over, and when she got close, the soldier leaned forward, holding one hand conspiratorially over her mouth, as so to dissuade eavesdroppers.

"Well, do not tell anyone," she said, "but I am supposed to be..."

The girl's frown eased, and her eyes went wide. The little boy accompanying her looked around also, as if to see if anyone else would overhear.

"A silent knight."

The girl's frown deepened again, and she rolled her eyes, while her companion hid his face behind his hands and giggled.

"Ugh, really," the girl said. "But what are you ACTUALLY here for."

The soldier chuckled, and stood up slowly, resuming her post. "I am to spend at least one night guarding this holy place during the season, in accordance with oaths and traditions. I am here to make sure it is safe for orphans and others in need to approach, that they fear no evil spirits, no highwayman, no dark evils that may lurk in the shadow. Nay, that they need not even fear family with blackened heart, nor blackguards, not even a Lord or Lady. I keep my vigil that all may approach in safety and receive succor."

The little girl sniffed. "Orphans? Sharlayan does not have orphans," she said. "We are civilized."

"Sharlayan has orphans aplenty," said the soldier, her tone gentle. "But you are half right. Your home manages better than most, and the orphans here are well looked after, generally taken in by well to do families, their needs met, their wants tended to. Not everywhere is so well off, however. And Halone bids us guard her places for those less fortunate."

The little girl inclined her head, and then nodded. Apparently satisfied, she walked away, calling out to her companion over her shoulder as she did so. He was quick to follow behind, but he did stop at the foot of the soldier, and, stealing a glance at his friend, he stood up on the tips of his toes and whispered to the soldier.

"I think you are doing a nice thing," he said. "Also, you look real neat, miss."

The soldier turned her head to watch as they scampered off, and let out a short laugh. She then settled back in to her vigil, hands resting on her shield.

"My, haven't we been busy this Starlight season," said a voice. "From investigating bookkeeps to entertaining children. Kindly keep your vigil, though, if you would."

The soldier's grip tightened on the top of her shield, but she otherwise did not shift stance nor look around.

"I think we are safe enough to have a little conversation, though, if you can spare a few moments."

"Master Waters," the soldier said, her voice tense. "Is aught amiss?"

"I am not quite yet certain," said Thancred, from wherever he was. "I thought I would drop by, however, and comment on your investigation. How Erick manages to convince such capable people to his employ, I could not guess. Excellent work, anyroad. I must admit, I am impressed."

The soldier tensed, almost shaking their head. But the urge was resisted.

"Not so excellent. My investigation met a literal dead end. And as you well know, I am just an adventurer, and I have done only that which was asked of me. Same as we all do. Nothing more."

"And so modest as well. However, I thought it mete to inform you that I think your investigation has not gone wholly unnoticed. It's probably nothing, but perhaps you should not be spending so much time by yourself while in Old Sharlayan."

The soldier shifted her weight.

"Am I at risk?"

"Very possibly, yes. Difficult to say for sure just yet."

The soldier inclined their head, looking up into the snow-filled sky.

"If I am in danger, then is it not best to keep to myself? I will not risk others nor put them in the way of harm," she said at last.

"Of course not. I merely think you would do well to be surrounded by friends who could watch your back as you watch theirs. I could of course recommend the Annex, but if you find our home too intimidating, I am certain there are better places for a woman such as yourself to be."

The soldier drummed her fingers along the top of her shield.

"For tonight," she said, "This woman has a duty here."

"As you say," he said. "Well, I shall let you get back to it. Ah, but before we go, I believe there is, shall we say, a gift for you at the Last Pillar. You know, that bar you like to frequent? Kindly check in on it, if you would."

The soldier grunted. "When?"

"It will be there on the morrow. For now, however, I shall take my leave. Do promise that you will speak up if you need anything, would you? And kindly give your fellows my regards as you see them. We are ever grateful for the work you and yours do on behalf of the realm. All of you."

"Of course," she said.

The night fell silent, and she continued her vigil.

The bells slipped by, and she was not otherwise bothered that night. No orphans came to receive of Halone's blessing, but neither did any ne'er-do-wells or dark shadows that had blades instead of words to trade with her. The snow continued to fall, and it grew colder, but if the soldier minded either, she gave no obvious mind to it. The peoples of Old Sharlayan continued to ignore her pointedly, even as their numbers thinned as the night went on, and until she was the only one standing in the street until morning.

As the first rays of light fell on the parish, its door opened, and the soldier stirred. She left her post at last, turning towards the nun who had opened the door, and followed her in.

Once inside, Zoissette Vauban removed her helmet, and set it carefully on its stand. Shortly thereafter, the armor began to follow.

"It was good of you to drop by, dear," the nun said, smiling at her broadly. "It is not often we get visitors. And certainly none so devout as to follow the oaths of a forgotten saint."

"Not so long forgotten, sister," said Zoissette respectfully as she continued to place the armor on its stand with a slow solemnity befitting the task.

"Well, bless you, anyroad," she said. And then, "You know, Saint Thea was quite venerated back in the day. Long before her order became the Holy See's tool to get rid of undesirables. Even before her order's brief history as a bludgeon against foreign interests."

Zoissette glanced over her shoulder at the nun, who smiled at her.

"She was a traveller, I know that much," said Zoissette, turning back to finish her task of putting the armor on its display. "Went on a pilgrimage to spread the word of Halone. Left during a famine, so that there was one less mouth to feed at home. The records after that are unclear. The orthodox one is that she went forth, and smited the enemies of the Holy See."

"So they say," said the nun. "And she travelled far and wide, on that we can agree. To be certain, it was not all peace and happiness unto Halone. But while the current orthodoxy would have you believe that she indeed went out into the world to smite Halone's enemies, there are other stories. Here."

The nun held out a small journal to Zoissette, who took it carefully, and flipped it open. She read a few pages of it, her eyes flitting along the letters, and she frowned, and then looked up at the nun.

"Are these her writings?" asked Zoissette quietly. "If they are, then... then this is a Holy artifact." She looked down, and flipped through a few more pages.

"Nothing of the sort, dear," said the nun, chuckling. "Just the recounting of a traveller's tales, nothing more."

Zoissette paused, and then turned the journal to its last pages, and read them carefully. "...I did not know she came here, to Sharlayan. This does not say where she went, though. Whatsoever happened to her?" she asked.

"What they say happened, or what really happened?" the nun asked. "You know the most of it, I imagine. She travelled across many lands. And yes, she spent some time here in fair Old Sharlayan. She died, as the stories say, in Gridania, and was returned to her homeland posthumously by those who came seeking her afterward. Mind, what they say is she died fighting unbelievers in that supposedly unholy land, but, if you wish to know the truth, there are other journals out there for you to find."

Zoissette closed the journal, and looked at the nun.

"Not so much heresy to admit to such now," said the nun. "Not during these times of reformation, and so I feel no hesitation in telling you the truth. She never went back to Ishgard because Ishgard was not where she found the face of Halone. She found it in the people she helped, in the friends she made... and in the family she found along the way. No, she died where she wanted to die, and the rest made up afterwards by those who thought to piggy back the stories and legends that followed her to their own ends. You will know the true journals by the self-same mark on that one."

Zoissette closed the journal, and looked at the seal on its front, and ran her fingers over it.

"Why tell me this?" she said. "For all you know, I am just some random adventurer who wandered in from the cold."

The nun laughed. "Yes, just a random adventurer. Just a random one of Gage's Acquisitions, a random friend to Scions, a random Shieldmaiden of Saint Thea, of which there are just so many these days to hear tales of. And certainly, the first of an age to actually keep to the oaths instead of just fleeing Ishgard, leaving their troubles behind."

The nun took Zoissette's hands, and she put them on either side of the journal.

"Keep it. I am old, and I do not think I will find another worthy of the task. Travel free, Shieldmaiden. Seek out the journals, and learn from them. Perhaps along the way you can find your family."

Zoissette's lips thinned. "I have family. In Ishgard."

"Oh to be sure, to be sure," said the nun, patting her on the shoulder encouragingly. "Well, consider it a favor to the order, and to this meddlesome old lady in particular, if you were to seek out the journals anyroad. But for now, I shall keep you no longer. I can't imagine what business you have here in Old Sharlayan, but guarding a parish that barely sees people isn't it."

Zoissette tucked the journal away, and bowed respectfully to the nun.

"Thank you for allowing me to serve," she said.

"Halone watch over you," said the nun, bowing in return.

"You as well," said Zoissette.

She left, shortly, and hopped down the stairs thoughtfully. She pulled the journal back out, and thumbed through a few more pages. It was in an older dialect, but it was not unreadable. And she was certain she could cross reference its recollections with other accounts, and form a better picture. Perhaps she could share what she found with Inspector Briardien, and he in turn could see it to his relative in the Scholasticate.

For now, her holy duty had been discharged, and the long night was over. And the night had been long, as she realised she was very, very hungry. With Thancred's warning hanging over her head, and the journal tucked away in a pocket, she began to head towards the Last Stand to greet the new day.

[asharinhun]

DWC Day 6 - Home

Ironforge was never silent, with the great forge always in motion and the clanking of the many dwarven smithies echoing in the belly of the mountain. It was one of the reasons Neria loved this place so much. Her hands didn't stop working nor did she lose focus despite her mind wandering, the sound of her own hammer striking metal adding to the beautiful cacophony.

The different metals and minerals were all gifts of the earth, and her affinity for working them was not surprising, given that she was a black dragon... wearing a human disguise in the capital of the dwarves. She always thought that she couldn't stop from standing out, then might as well give it a reason that's not her true nature. Still, she had a lot to learn from the locals, and learn she did. Now she was just one of the many smiths.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Nerah. Is this the right place?" A voice coming from the entrance of her workshop rudely interrupted the smith. She suppressed an annoyed growl and turned to the newcomer.

"It's me, but the shop's closed for the day, but if ye want to commission me, don't even bother to come back on the morrow. Am swamped for the next month or so." She replied grumpily, taking her time to look over the supposed customer. 'Bronze skin, light-blonde hair and garbs fitting for a deser-dweller. Unusual.' Neria mused inside, but the other's ice-blue eyes gave her chills for some reason.

Still, no reason to judge a book by its cover, her own looks were just as 'unique', with the whole left side of her body decorated by one giant burn. She couldn't hide the scars even while wearing her 'visage', so this disgusie was no different. 'Another lesson I've learned from...' Such thoughs always made her bitter, but her expression didn't change at all from the beginning.

"Now, now, is that how you greet one of your kin, child of Sabellian?" The other woman asked with a teasing tone, chuckling.

Neria froze, eyes wide, even if an eyepatch hid the left one from view without hindering her own sight. She could have shrugged it off, but her earlier behavior all but confirmed it, so she just growled, her form rippling to reveal her preferred visage.

"What do you want from me, timelizard, and how do you know who am I?!" Now it was easy to guess the identity of the newcomer, especially as the city was suddenly silent, time stopped for all but for the two of them.

"My, my, you're just as rude as I've expected. My name is Zhiadormi, a pleasure. Or would you prefer Zhia, since Nerah must be your name among mortals." The bronze dragon took on her own visage, the only changes were her horns and the scales now visible on her body.

"What do you want?! I won't ask again." Neria hissed, body tense. She didn't wish to fight - to ruin the home she'd built in the past decades even if she had to leave it for the safety of Outland from time to time -, but she would if she had to. The dwarves would rebuild... and she would help them in secret.

"Don't be so hostile. I'm not here to fight... but to convince you to return to the Dragon Isles with me. Surely you must have felt the call to go back home."

Neria actually laughed, a grave sound. "Home? Oh, no. This smithy here is as close to a home as I ever got. Why cave in to a longing only to know you're not welcome? I'm no fool, the deeds of the one called Wrathion didn't escape me. I won't become another crossed-out name on his list." She got angrier as she spoke. "Now that you've found me here, I don't doubt he'll be able too. Thanks for ruining all that." Her gaze was full of molten fury, ready to erupt.

"I swear on my duty to guard and preserve the true timeline that noone else will know you're here, not unless you want them to. There. Is that enough to cool your head off, hotstuff?" Zhia replied, her infuritating smirk unwavering.

Neria didn't have a lot of knowledge of the other flights, but an oath like that was as close to a guarantee as she could force out from a bronze.

"I still don't know why you want me to come to the Isles so badly... but I'm no puppet in anyone's schemes. I've disobeyed Deathwing himself and have the scars to prove it, do you think I'd dance to your tune after that?"

"Seriously, don't be such a spoilsport. If you want I can swear again to prove I have no ill intentions. I'll be honest here: I have a few suspicions and I need help in case things go south, and I don't mean the Incarnates here... and you would be a truly valuable ally. Not just because of being a black dragon, but also for your skill with that hammer. That's all I can say." Zhia finally put her foot down, actually feeling a bit nervous. She needed the black one's help.

Neria fel torn, the honesty in Zhia's words was undeniable, and stroking her ego about her blacksmithing skills didn't make the choice any easier.

"Damn it, you silver-tongued timelizard... Alright, I'll go and see what's all this fuss about the Dragon Isles - and you better fill me in about those Incarwhatevers -, but that place will never be my home, so you'd better find a proper substitute for me here. I can't let the shop go untended or its reputation sullied, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll take care of that. Just one last thing. Before we go back to the Isles, can you repair or make a sword to one of my other allies? Hers broke while doing me a favor."

Neria frowned, but forging a blade wasn't what she expected. "Bring her here then, along with the sword. I'll need to know more before I start... and all the materials and gold are to come from your pocket, got it? My work is not cheap."

"Sure thing, I'll be back shortly." Zhia disappeared with a chuckle and time resumed its normal flow.

"Haaahh... it was naive to think I could stay hidden forever. Might as well stretch my wings and see what will come of this." Neria muttered, alone and once again wearing her disguise. She didn't lie, this smithy was her true home.

@daily-writing-challenge

[inardescere]

«I'm sorry».

That wasn't something he expected to hear right now. In a tone familiar as it scratches at old scabs in the corner of his heart. When bright red eyes slowly turn to look behind him, dark cape fluttering in the chilling wind and blending into the darkness, he swears he saw double; of the man now and the young teen who feared for his life under the same piercing gaze, merged as one.

An apology.

It's been six... seven years? Longer than he felt, shorter than he thought. After all this time, a long journey and coming back, not once did they share any apologies for what had happened. At first, Diluc had still been too caught up in his own grief and turmoil to think straight. It would be a complete lie to say he hadn't crossed the line of anger that particular night, convinced that he was betrayed and their promise broken, ready to destroy everything and anything that left cracks in the world that he carved for himself.

Yet, from the moment he received his first letter from Kaeya suggesting he leave in the dead of night to avoid people, he had understood that he made a mistake. To believe everything in the past decade had been lies was hard when he had seen all those different faces of the young boy who grew up by his side, and even now, to be on the receiving end of his concern. As someone who lived under the same roof, the person closest to him, he should have known why he reacted the way he did. As an older brother, maybe he could have been more attentive-- good enough for him to share the burden.

However, emotions simply do not work that way and it wasn't a matter so easily explained. No matter how much he regrets it, it was done.

Now, it comes down to this. Does he forgive Kaeya? The more important question is, did he truly hate him for what he has done? For a moment, there had been a spark that burned all his insides till he tasted ash and blood on his tongue. There was no denying what would have happened if Kaeya had not held his ground with his vision bestowed upon his hand. That scared him more than he was willing to admit. But the memories burned in his eyes softened with the gentle breeze of time. If anything, all he had left was deep-set sorrow for all he had lost and hope for their newfound relationship. However, it was also the passing of time and how close they once were, that had made things too awkward to say those apologies.

Inside him, he no longer held resentment for Kaeya. But what of Crepus? Then again, was it right to be angered for a dead person when they have mourned so?

"It's in the past now." You're forgiven. There are still things that need to be set straight, and maybe he will sit and ask about them again. But right now... his useless pride and fear begone. "I'm also sorry." Diluc takes a glance at the eyepatch which hid the scar that he caused during their fight. Kaeya would joke about it to lighten the mood, accusing him of being so clueless as to not realize he wasn't blind in that eye. Diluc thought it was annoying how easily he brushed it off. He remembers penning the letter, both angry and guilty at the one-sided messages sent his way as he traveled. Diluc had been equally glad and distraught that Kaeya had not simply forgotten him and let him be. Moreover, a different feeling had bloomed in his chest.

"Kaeya--" It takes two steps for Diluc to get close enough to reach for his wrist, eyes never breaking contact with the other's. He gives a light squeeze, just holding on in an attempt to keep the man there, keep him from possibly running away from his advances.

"I haven't forgotten the oath I swore to you, and I believe that you haven't either." Scarlet eyes shine earnestly as he takes another step closer, showing his unwillingness to back down. He wishes for a chance to show that even if they fight, he will come back to their promise-- to protect, to guide, to love; to remind what it means to be partners in everything. This time, he will keep it. "If you are still struggling to find an answer, choose me. I... Mondstadt and the Ragnvindr house has and will always be your home too. I will do everything in my power to protect both so that we don't have to lose them." What he really wants to say is... "Stay with me." Is he allowed to hope for a future where he does?

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

15th June >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saturday, Tenth Week in Ordinary Time 

or

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Tenth Week in Ordinary Time 

(Liturgical Colour: Green. Year: B(II))

First Reading 1 Kings 19:19-21 Elisha leaves the plough to follow Elijah.

Leaving Mount Horeb, Elijah came on Elisha son of Shaphat as he was ploughing behind twelve yoke of oxen, he himself being with the twelfth. Elijah passed near to him and threw his cloak over him. Elisha left his oxen and ran after Elijah. ‘Let me kiss my father and mother, then I will follow you’ he said. Elijah answered, ‘Go, go back; for have I done anything to you?’ Elisha turned away, took the pair of oxen and slaughtered them. He used the plough for cooking the oxen, then gave to his men, who ate. He then rose, and followed Elijah and became his servant.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 15(16):1-2,5,7-10

R/ You are my inheritance, O Lord.

Preserve me, God, I take refuge in you. I say to the Lord: ‘You are my God.’ O Lord, it is you who are my portion and cup; it is you yourself who are my prize.

R/ You are my inheritance, O Lord.

I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel, who even at night directs my heart. I keep the Lord ever in my sight: since he is at my right hand, I shall stand firm.

R/ You are my inheritance, O Lord.

And so my heart rejoices, my soul is glad; even my body shall rest in safety. For you will not leave my soul among the dead, nor let your beloved know decay.

R/ You are my inheritance, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation Psalm 118:18

Alleluia, alleluia! Open my eyes, O Lord, that I may consider the wonders of your law. Alleluia!

Or: Psalm 118:36,29

Alleluia, alleluia! Bend my heart to your will, O Lord, and teach me your law. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 5:33-37 Do not swear: say 'Yes' if you mean Yes, 'No' if you mean No.

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘You have learnt how it was said to our ancestors: You must not break your oath, but must fulfil your oaths to the Lord. But I say this to you: do not swear at all, either by heaven, since that is God’s throne; or by the earth, since that is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, since that is the city of the great king. Do not swear by your own head either, since you cannot turn a single hair white or black. All you need say is “Yes” if you mean yes, “No” if you mean no; anything more than this comes from the evil one.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary 

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

Either:

First Reading Genesis 3:9-15,20 The mother of all those who live.

After Adam had eaten of the tree the Lord God called to him. ‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘I heard the sound of you in the garden;’ he replied ‘I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.’ ‘Who told you that you were naked?’ he asked ‘Have you been eating of the tree I forbade you to eat?’ The man replied, ‘It was the woman you put with me; she gave me the fruit, and I ate it.’ Then the Lord God asked the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman replied, ‘The serpent tempted me and I ate.’ Then the Lord God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this,

‘Be accursed beyond all cattle, all wild beasts. You shall crawl on your belly and eat dust every day of your life. I will make you enemies of each other: you and the woman, your offspring and her offspring. It will crush your head and you will strike its heel.’

The man named his wife ‘Eve’ because she was the mother of all those who live.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

OR: --------

First reading Genesis 12:1-7 All the tribes of the earth shall bless themselves by you

The Lord said to Abram, ‘Leave your country, your family and your father’s house, for the land I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name so famous that it will be used as a blessing.

‘I will bless those who bless you: I will curse those who slight you. All the tribes of the earth shall bless themselves by you.’

So Abram went as the Lord told him, and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he left Haran. Abram took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all the possessions they had amassed and the people they had acquired in Haran. They set off for the land of Canaan, and arrived there. Abram passed through the land as far as Shechem’s holy place, the Oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. The Lord appeared to Abram and said, ‘It is to your descendants that I will give this land.’ So Abram built there an altar for the Lord who had appeared to him.

OR: --------

First reading 2 Samuel 7:1-5,8-11,16 The Lord will make you great; the Lord will make you a House

Once David had settled into his house and the Lord had given him rest from all the enemies surrounding him, the king said to the prophet Nathan, ‘Look, I am living in a house of cedar while the ark of God dwells in a tent.’ Nathan said to the king, ‘Go and do all that is in your mind, for the Lord is with you.’ But that very night the word of the Lord came to Nathan: ‘Go and tell my servant David, “Thus the Lord speaks: Are you the man to build me a house to dwell in? I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, to be leader of my people Israel; I have been with you on all your expeditions; I have cut off all your enemies before you. I will give you fame as great as the fame of the greatest on earth. I will provide a place for my people Israel; I will plant them there and they shall dwell in that place and never be disturbed again; nor shall the wicked continue to oppress them as they did, in the days when I appointed judges over my people Israel; I will give them rest from all their enemies. The Lord will make you great; the Lord will make you a House. Your House and your sovereignty will always stand secure before me and your throne be established for ever.”’

OR: --------

First reading 1 Chronicles 15:3-4,15-16,16:1-2 They brought in the ark of God and put it inside the tent that David had pitched for it

David gathered all Israel together to bring the ark of God up to the place he had prepared for it. David called together the sons of Aaron and the sons of Levi. And the Levites carried the ark of God with the shafts on their shoulders, as Moses had ordered in accordance with the word of the Lord. David then told the heads of the Levites to assign duties for their kinsmen as cantors, with their various instruments of music, harps and lyres and cymbals, to play joyful tunes. They brought the ark of God in and put it inside the tent that David had pitched for it; and they offered holocausts before God, and communion sacrifices. And when David had finished offering holocausts and communion sacrifices, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord.

OR: --------

First reading Proverbs 8:22-31 Before the earth came into being, Wisdom was born

The Wisdom of God cries aloud:

The Lord created me when his purpose first unfolded, before the oldest of his works. From everlasting I was firmly set, from the beginning, before earth came into being. The deep was not, when I was born, there were no springs to gush with water. Before the mountains were settled, before the hills, I came to birth; before he made the earth, the countryside, or the first grains of the world’s dust. When he fixed the heavens firm, I was there, when he drew a ring on the surface of the deep, when he thickened the clouds above, when he fixed fast the springs of the deep, when he assigned the sea its boundaries – and the waters will not invade the shore – when he laid down the foundations of the earth, I was by his side, a master craftsman, delighting him day after day, ever at play in his presence, at play everywhere in his world, delighting to be with the sons of men.

OR: --------

First reading Ecclesiasticus 24:1-4,8-12,18-21 From eternity, in the beginning, God created wisdom

Wisdom speaks her own praises, in the midst of her people she glories in herself. She opens her mouth in the assembly of the Most High, she glories in herself in the presence of the Mighty One: ‘I came forth from the mouth of the Most High, and I covered the earth like a mist. I had my tent in the heights, and my throne in a pillar of cloud. Then the creator of all things instructed me, and he who created me fixed a place for my tent. He said, “Pitch your tent in Jacob, make Israel your inheritance.” From eternity, in the beginning, he created me, and for eternity I shall remain. I ministered before him in the holy tabernacle, and thus was I established on Zion. In the beloved city he has given me rest, and in Jerusalem I wield my authority. I have taken root in a privileged people, in the Lord’s property, in his inheritance. Approach me, you who desire me, and take your fill of my fruits, for memories of me are sweeter than honey, inheriting me is sweeter than the honeycomb. They who eat me will hunger for more, they who drink me will thirst for more. Whoever listens to me will never have to blush, whoever acts as I dictate will never sin.’

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 7:10-14,8:10 The maiden is with child

The Lord spoke to Ahaz and said, ‘Ask the Lord your God for a sign for yourself coming either from the depths of Sheol or from the heights above.’ ‘No,’ Ahaz answered ‘I will not put the Lord to the test.’ Then Isaiah said:

‘Listen now, House of David: are you not satisfied with trying the patience of men without trying the patience of my God, too? The Lord himself, therefore, will give you a sign. It is this: the maiden is with child and will soon give birth to a son whom she will call Immanuel, a name which means “God-is-with-us.”’

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 9:1-6 A Son is given to us

The people that walked in darkness has seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone. You have made their gladness greater, you have made their joy increase; they rejoice in your presence as men rejoice at harvest time, as men are happy when they are dividing the spoils.

For the yoke that was weighing on him, the bar across his shoulders, the rod of his oppressor, these you break as on the day of Midian.

For all the footgear of battle, every cloak rolled in blood, is burnt, and consumed by fire.

For there is a child born for us, a son given to us and dominion is laid on his shoulders; and this is the name they give him: Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 61:9-11 I exult for joy in the Lord

Their race will be famous throughout the nations, their descendants throughout the peoples. All who see them will admit that they are a race whom the Lord has blessed.

‘I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God, for he has clothed me in the garments of salvation, he has wrapped me in the cloak of integrity, like a bridegroom wearing his wreath, like a bride adorned in her jewels.

‘For as the earth makes fresh things grow, as a garden makes seeds spring up, so will the Lord make both integrity and praise spring up in the sight of the nations.’

OR: --------

First reading Micah 5:1-4 He will stand and feed his flock with the power of the Lord

The Lord says this:

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, the least of the clans of Judah, out of you will be born for me the one who is to rule over Israel; his origin goes back to the distant past, to the days of old. The Lord is therefore going to abandon them till the time when she who is to give birth gives birth. Then the remnant of his brothers will come back to the sons of Israel. He will stand and feed his flock with the power of the Lord, with the majesty of the name of his God. They will live secure, for from then on he will extend his power to the ends of the land. He himself will be peace.

OR: --------

First reading Zechariah 2:14-17 'I am coming', says the Lord

Sing, rejoice, daughter of Zion; for I am coming to dwell in the middle of you – it is the Lord who speaks. Many nations will join the Lord, on that day; they will become his people. But he will remain among you, and you will know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you. But the Lord will hold Judah as his portion in the Holy Land, and again make Jerusalem his very own. Let all mankind be silent before the Lord! For he is awaking and is coming from his holy dwelling.

Responsorial Psalm 1 Samuel 2:1,4-8

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

My heart exults in the Lord. I find my strength in my God; my mouth laughs at my enemies as I rejoice in your saving help.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

The bows of the mighty are broken, but the weak are clothed with strength. Those with plenty must labour for bread, but the hungry need work no more. The childless wife has children now but the fruitful wife bears no more.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

It is the Lord who gives life and death, he brings men to the grave and back; it is the Lord who gives poverty and riches. He brings men low and raises them on high.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

He lifts up the lowly from the dust, from the dungheap he raises the poor to set him in the company of princes to give him a glorious throne. For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s, on them he has set the world.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

Gospel Acclamation cf.Lk1:28

Alleluia, alleluia! Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee! Blessed art thou among women. Alleluia!

Or: cf.Lk1:45

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who believed that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled. Alleluia!

Or: cf.Lk2:19

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who treasured the word of God and pondered it in her heart. Alleluia!

Or: Lk11:28

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy are those who hear the word of God and keep it. Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed are you, holy Virgin Mary, and most worthy of all praise, for the sun of justice, Christ our God, was born of you. Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy is the Virgin Mary, who, without dying, won the palm of martyrdom beneath the cross of the Lord. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 1:1-16,18-23 The ancestry and conception of Jesus Christ.

A genealogy of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham:

Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah, Tamar being their mother, Perez was the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram was the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon was the father of Boaz, Rahab being his mother, Boaz was the father of Obed, Ruth being his mother, Obed was the father of Jesse; and Jesse was the father of King David.

David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife, Solomon was the father of Rehoboam, Rehoboam the father of Abijah, Abijah the father of Asa, Asa was the father of Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, Joram the father of Azariah, Azariah was the father of Jotham, Jotham the father of Ahaz, Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, Hezekiah was the father of Manasseh, Manasseh the father of Amon, Amon the father of Josiah; and Josiah was the father of Jechoniah and his brothers. Then the deportation to Babylon took place.

After the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel, Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel was the father of Abiud, Abiud the father of Eliakim, Eliakim the father of Azor, Azor was the father of Zadok, Zadok the father of Achim, Achim the father of Eliud, Eliud was the father of Eleazar, Eleazar the father of Matthan, Matthan the father of Jacob; and Jacob was the father of Joseph the husband of Mary; of her was born Jesus who is called Christ.

This is how Jesus Christ came to be born. His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph; but before they came to live together she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph; being a man of honour and wanting to spare her publicity, decided to divorce her informally. He had made up his mind to do this when the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son and you must name him Jesus, because he is the one who is to save his people from their sins.’ Now all this took place to fulfil the words spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son and they will call him Emmanuel,

a name which means ‘God-is-with-us.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[imobel]

Trapped in the dark

She eyed the prisoner suspiciously. Her velvet soft brown eyes hid the corruption well, barely a hint of the red glow was perceptible. “Is he secured?”

“Don’t fear, child.” The Masters voice made her heart flutter with anticipation. “He is quite disarmed. You can see for yourself.” He made a soft gesture towards Mithlinu. The young man glared but made no attempt to reply. His hands were unbound but the oath held him as firmly in check as if he had ben chained from head to toe. He could not defy The Masters will, no matter how his heart longed for revenge. She bowed to The Master, ever the humble servant, always soft and pliable. A razors edge hidden in velvet and satin.

“What? No snide remark? Have the mighty warrior given up so soon?” The voice belonged to Barion Dageion, and his malice knew no bounds. He smiled, and his radiant face could have fooled anyone that didn’t know him that he was just a young man, bearing no evil intent in his heart when in fact that was all he ever had had. As he passed Mithlinu he allowed his hand to stroke the prisoner’s chin. The powerful magic he was using relied on touch. Mithlinu groaned, knees buckling beneath him.

“Barion, that’s enough.”

“Yes, my Master.” Barion let go of his grip over the magic and smiled at Mithlinu who was sweating profusely, holding his breath to bite back cries of pain. “But he suffers beautifully, don’t you think?”

The Master didn’t answer but Barion could see the cold glint in the beautiful eyes, the scorn in the perfect face. His Lord and Master displeased! It broke Barions heart instantly. Servants had died for less. He bowed, low but not too low. Humble, not grovelling he told himself.

“I apologise if I have offended, my master. I am yours to command.”

“Yes, you are, and never forget it.” The Master’s voice had an edge that cut deep into what was left of Barions soul. Then The Master’s face softened, his eyes gazed lovingly at Barion who, at that moment, could have died for that one gaze alone.

“You are right of course.” The Master smiled and reached for Barion. His hand, as everything else, was perfection. “Come, my poor, jealous boy. He suffers beautifully, but he can never replace my favourite.”

Barion kneeled trembling before The Master and bowed his head low. It didn’t matter to him that the jealousy wasn’t his, that he was a canvas for The Master to paint his feelings on, a mirror without an image of its own. In the corner of his eye, he could see Mithlinu regaining composure. The dark hair damp with sweat and body shivering, but the grey eyes blazed with defiance. No, they blazed with pure hate.

“My Master, if I may?” Barion pleaded, still kneeling, and bowing low.

“Go ahead, my little jealous boy.” The Masters voice sounded as if he was smiling. He was pleased. Barions heart jumped with joy.

“May I … may I watch when you break him?” Barion pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor. He might have overstepped his good fortune this time.

The Master laughed, a soft little laugh that Barion basked in. He had made The Master happy!

“You may, my little one.”

“Thank you, my Master.” His voice trembled with emotion. “Thank you.”

He dared lift his eyes, glanced at The Master who had turned his back to him and was watching Mithlinu again. Though millennia had passed, The Master still wore the same kind of long robes and jackets as he had a long time ago. Before he became a deity. Barion shunned the thought, that his Master had been a mortal, a human. Such beauty and grace couldn’t have been borne of woman but risen from the ocean or stepped down from the mountains. Maybe the volcano spewed him forth in the beginning of time, or a shooting star landed and from it he was born. Yes, that must have been it. A shooting star impregnated mother earth who gave birth to the one and only deity worth following. The others were impostors. Mere humans that had forgotten their task and their purpose. But The Master …  He was a deity, a true god.

Barion watched The Master as he dried sweat from the prisoner’s forehead and stroke his hair, very much as you caress a pet. An urge to crush that defiant glare made Barion tremble where he lay on his hands and knees, humble before his Master.

“I feel your pain, my poor jealous boy.” The Master’s voice was soft, and Barion knew The Master had been right all along. Yes. He was jealous. He hated the prisoner. That … boy, that man-child, would steal precious time, attention, and devotion. He didn’t want to share The Master with yet another distraction. His heart raged as he acknowledged the feeling, and he knew his eyes burned red as his spells to hide his corrupted features started to fail.

“Does it hurt you that I spend time with my latest conquest? You are, second only to Straul Amatar, my oldest servant.”

“Yes, my Master.” Barion didn’t even consider anything but honesty. His Master would sense the untrue behind the sincerity, even if he tried to coat the lie in truth. The he would suffer as he had suffered only once before. The Master had broken into his mind, brutally and voraciously, and rained acid and fire into his very thoughts. His mind was burning, pain was wrecking his entire being and there was no escape, no mercy, and no end to the pain until The Master willed it so. The punishment lasted forever and, in the end, Barion had been screaming, howling, and begging for death. The Master had cupped his hand beneath Barions chin, lifted his tear drenched face so close as if he wanted to kiss him and asked him if he wanted death. Anything, Barion had cried, anything to stop the pain. The Master had kissed his forehead, and in an instant the pain was gone. Once was enough. Barion had no desire to relive that.

[keeps-ache]

strangers' strangely similar spirits (recommended you click and zoom :DD)

tiny bit more colour below

just liiiiiiiittle bit more :3

[doodle-pops]

Peace In Our Time

Maedhros x reader

A/N: I had a hard time deciding if to post this now or later, but I said screw it, it has to get posted some time. I hope you all enjoy this fic.

Warnings: fluff, crying, character comfort, talks about the future, Maedhros just needs lots of love and reassurance, the reader is Vanya.

Word Count: 1.8k

Synopsis: A peaceful moment between you and Maedhros leaves you wondering about your future.

Sprawled out under the shade of the oak tree where you and your beloved Maedhros laid, he had finally agreed to take the day off from his bulk of papers sitting at his work desk in his study. Turning your head to the right, you saw him lying there with his eyes closed with the occasional fluttering of his eyelids. His hair was sprawled out around him like a halo, giving him the appearance of an angelic person – a complete contrast to his actions caused by the oath and the views of others.

Looking over his feature, you saw the small scars adorning his face, one by his upper lip, another by his eye and nose and a third that ran from his chin down his neck and hid under the confinements of his clothes. It was a habit you developed whenever you both would cuddle where you’ll trace over his scars and plant kisses on them but seeing that you were both out in the open fields and not cuddling, you opted to forego the thought.

Keeping your stare on him, your eyes travelled across his face observing how peaceful he appeared when he wasn’t swamped under tons of papers and meetings with other lords and royals. For the first time in years, he appeared youthful in your eyes, just like the youth you remembered from your years as friends in Valinor. How you missed the bell-like laughter he produced and cheerful gleam in his eyes whenever something funny caught his attention, or when he was absolutely stress-free and only needed to worry about his brothers and your clumsiness.

Now, he had to worry about the entire Noldor going to war with the enemy and the dreadful oath his father made him swear and refused to break out of pride. Closing your eyes feeling the tears welling up behind your lids, you shook your head in an attempt to clear your mind of the dreadful thought circulating. Giving a loud sigh, you raised your hands to wipe the few drops that strayed from your eyes and gave your cheeks a few pats.

Now was not the time to think of such horrors or disturbing thoughts, now was the time to revel in the peace you were experiencing with your love for the first time in months. Turning your head once again to face him, you instead came face to face with an open-eyed Maedhros, gazing at you with concern in his eyes. It appeared that he had seen the tears flowing from your eyes and the action of you wiping them away. Silently, he remained, as he watched your attempt to compose yourself before intervening if required.

Now that he was aware of your calm state, as he saw clearly in your eyes, he turned to prop himself on his upper arm and outstretch his right arm to rub his stump across your cheek tenderly. Giving you a slightly concerned smile, still not able to hide his worry despite your calm state, he wordless leaned in to hover over you and press his forehead against yours – a gesture the both of you developed during his vivid nightmare stage, informing him that you were here for him.

“You were crying, is everything alright?” His eyes were still closed as he spoke lowly, afraid of breaking the tranquil ambience between you both. You on the other hand were smiling affectionately at his worry – all he needed to see was you sad or unhappy and his protective behaviour was ready to unfold.

“I’m fine, I was simply thinking, and the tears started flowing. It’s nothing to get worked up about.” Taking a moment to process your words, he released a short hum and leaned his head down to rub your noses against each other before dipping for a kiss. The kiss was the light and airy as he left little pecks against them repeatedly. The action made you erupt into giggles – just what he wanted to hear from you – while his kisses travelled across the expanse of your face.

Squealing at the gesture, he lifted the rest of his body off the ground to position himself on top of you, resting himself between your legs, while continuing his assault on your face. Your hands were fighting to push him off as the kisses grew to become ticklish when they travelled to your neck. You had explained to him on many occasions that you were a very ticklish person and instead of understanding and complying – which he did – he took that information and now uses it to his personal pleasure of lifting your spirits. Fighting to get him off you was the most tedious task. You kept forgetting that he’s a warrior and Noldorin elf – he had the pleasure of explaining that the Noldors were a lot bulkier and larger than the Vanyas and others, thus heavier.

“If you were fine then you won’t be crying love. Come now, tell me why you were shedding tears on such a fine day?” Raising up on his knees and giving you a chance to speak after his attack, he sat on his haunches waiting for you to respond with patient eyes.

Lying there, waiting for you to catch your breath from the slaughter, you were heaving loudly and contemplating on if to reveal your true thoughts to him or makeup something else. The both of you came to this field to relax and have a moment of peace to yourselves, not to be filled with worry or engage in talk reminiscing on the past events. Finished taking the opportunity to gather your thoughts while recuperating, you sat upright facing him, but chose to look past and gaze at the fields before you.

“I was…I was thinking about when all this is over - you know, do we still live the life we envisioned for ourselves.” Pausing to think about your next words you didn’t fail to see the wary look on his face, clearly, he was taking your words the wrong way.

Not wanting to cause further confusion, you spoke up quickly, “I meant like do we build that little cottage we spoke about living in and having your garden at the back or around the house like you envisioned once? Do we live alone or with your brothers not too far from us? Is it ok to start a family when this is over or not?”

He was speechless from your response, flabbergasted that you were still thinking about the good things in the future despite the obvious, oncoming chaos. You still wanted a future with him – a life with him and his brothers – to even start a family, which he knew might take a copious amount of time before he felt comfortable, but nonetheless, you wanted to stay at his side.

Continuing to kneel before you as you continued to gaze past him, you turned your head to observe his quietened state to see his head hanging and his shoulders moving – he was crying. Panicked at the sight, you scrambled to your feet in an unfashionable manner and toss your arms around his form. When you did so, he began crying harder.

Your mind was racing trying to figure out if you had said something wrong, perhaps you shouldn’t have said anything or should have just stuck to the original thoughts. Raising your hands to rub up and down his back in a soothing manner, his sobs still didn’t cease. Instead, he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you, sobbing into your neck. Your hands immediately rose to cradle his head, like you always do, and you began rocking him from side to side gently while cooing.

Attempting to ease his hiccups, he slowed his crying to take deep breaths in and out. When he was positive, his crying was under control, he shifted his head in the crook of your neck to speak softly, “Despite…despite all that I’ve done…you still wish to stay with me? Why? Nothing good will come from staying with me?”

“Why would you say that? Weren’t you the one who pursued me despite the oath, Mae? Don’t say such things, of course, I still want to be with you. I love you.” You had pulled your head back to look at him in the crook of your neck. His face was slanted upwards and gazing at you as you spoke to him tenderly. At the same time, you moved your hands upwards to stroke his hair, doing your very best to calm him down.

“When all this is over, we could – would – have that wonderful future we envisioned, remember. You and I, just you and I.” So, this is what he was getting all worked up about, the thought of you truly want to spend the rest of your life with him despite his actions. As silly as it sounded, you understood the sentimental meaning behind your words and your future actions, how much it meant to him to hear your thoughts circulating in a positive direction.

“You truly mean it?” He had lifted his head to look you in your eyes as he spoke.

“Yes, yes I do, every single word.” Smiling at him brightly, hoping that your action helped him to see how true your words were, and it did.

Pulling you into him, he leaned his head to rest atop yours in a loving manner while you two knelt on the hilltop overlooking the green, luscious fields rolling out before you. The gentle winds blowing assisted with calming him and resetting the soothing ambience to what it once was. Staying in each other’s arms for a moment longer, he pulled you both to lay on the grass once again, this time ensuring that you laid on top of him.

“How big do you wish the cottage to be?” He hummed as his hands stroked your hair now.

“Not too big, you never know if we may have little ones running about.” You smiled at the thought of seeing him chasing tiny feet around the house.

“Perhaps…if it doesn’t upset you, we can adopt a few seeing how the war took their parents away from them?” The idea of having his own was still a bit disturbing to him, so he rather took care of others before he could warm up to the idea.

“I don’t mind, as long as I get to see you chasing tiny feet around the house.” With that statement, you both laughed before throwing yourselves back into a heated conversation on the details of your future.

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @whenloveexists

Masterlist

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng start hooking up post-canon and Wei Wuxian assumes it's part of a scheme on Nie Huaisang's part. Possibly it was actually a scheme but Nie Huaisang got into it anyway. Or if sadness is more your thing, he didn't, and Wei Wuxian is left being like "see Jiang Cheng? I knew he couldn't have been hanging around with you for fun!"

ao3 (short)

“You need to stop,” Wei Wuxian said, his eyes narrow and expression fierce.

It was a lot less effective on Mo Xuanyu’s face than it had been on his original features. No one had yet told him, presumably out of a desire to avoid being murdered by Lan Wangji for making his lover sad.

Nie Huaisang frowned at him. “Stop…what?”

“Whatever it is you’re up to!”

Oh, were they doing this again?

Nie Huaisang opened up a fan and hid his face behind it in a single movement – he’d gotten really good at it over the years – and started idly fanning himself. “Wei-xiong, really, you’ll need to be more specific. I’m up to so many things, don’t you know…?”

Normally Nie Huaisang wouldn’t bother playing along, but he could see Jiang Cheng coming down the hallway at an angle that put him directly in Wei Wuxian’s blind spot – if there was one thing Jinlin Tower was good for, it was not seeing people – and he could already see Jiang Cheng starting to smile at his nonsense, which was obviously far more important than whatever it was that Wei Wuxian thought he’d figured out.

Hmm. Maybe Nie Huaisang was being too hasty in judging Lan Wangji’s rudeness – love really did make you do the stupidest things…

“I meant in relation to Jiang Cheng.”

Nie Huaisang stopped fanning and stared blankly at him. A few steps away from the turn, he saw Jiang Cheng come to a halt as well, already scowling.

“Jiang – Cheng?” he said hesitantly. “What exactly does Wei-xiong think I’m doing with Jiang-xiong?”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. “I’m not sure,” he said. “What are you doing?”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him. “But if I knew that, Wei-xiong, I wouldn’t have asked you, would I?”

The main problem Wei Wuxian had with confronting Nie Huaisang about anything, really, was that he genuinely found Nie Huaisang terribly funny. The twitching lips made the glaring more difficult.

(Behind him, Jiang Cheng was rolling his eyes, a full-body production that involved a great deal of heaving of shoulders and clutching at his head at the rampant stupidity on display. Nie Huaisang appreciated his lover's dedication to the art.)

Still – and this part was worrisome – Wei Wuxian’s smile faded away soon enough, replaced by a solemn expression.

“We may not be on the best of terms right now,” he said. “But he’s still very dear to me. I won’t put up with you using him as part of one of your schemes.”

“I don’t actually have any schemes,” Nie Huaisang said, mostly because Jiang Cheng was frowning now and Nie Huaisang did not want Wei Wuxian to mess up his budding relationship. “Really, Wei-xiong! I had one scheme, and it took me over a decade – I’m hardly the shadowy puppet-master mastermind you seem to sometimes seem to take me as. Why would you think that I’m using Jiang-xiong?”

“You’re deceitful,” Wei Wuxian said. “You made Jin Guangyao think that you were weak and dependent on him for years even as you plotted to bring him down. And now you’re pulling the same thing on Jiang Cheng – what am I supposed to think?”

Wei Wuxian must have seen them in the market, Nie Huaisang thought. He’d been carping around, playing up his good-for-nothing self – Jiang Cheng liked it when he did that. Mostly because Nie Huaisang really was a bit of a good-for-nothing, his one scheme claim to fame being firmly in the past; his cultivation was weak, his achievements few, his personality…questionable…

(Jin Ling had, upon discovering them spending time together, told Nie Huaisang that he fit everyone one of the criteria that Jiang Cheng had set out for a wife, right down to the weaker level of cultivation and the proper family background. Nie Huaisang had bought him some candy on the basis that ‘be nice to Jin Ling’ was on the list, and told him to think about the type of mileage he could get out of something like that. Jin Ling had looked appropriately thoughtful, after.

Nie Huaisang was a very good influence – or possibly a bad one, he wasn’t sure.)

At any rate, Jiang Cheng liked indulging him, liked and was reassured by the contrast between them. No one looking at them would ever put Jiang Cheng second – Nie Huaisang wasn’t even prettier! – except maybe in terms of insults, and even Jiang Cheng had to admit that he didn’t really want the privilege of being called the worst Great Sect leader, even if it was a superlative.

Wei Wuxian must have seen.

Wei Wuxian must have totally misunderstood.

“Jiang-xiong was at the Guanyin temple as well,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “It’s not like er-ge at all.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “Do you really have the right to call Lan-da-ge that?”

“My brother’s no less my brother because he’s dead, and he kept his oath to the end,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “Why should the other two be released from the obligations of their oath just because they chose to foreswear their side of it?”

“Stop getting away from the point,” Wei Wuxian said, probably because Nie Huaisang was right. Bitter and mean and resentful, but right. “Whatever you’re scheming that involves Jiang Cheng, stop it.”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian blinked.

“I’m not scheming, but even if I was, the target would be Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang explained. “You don’t understand, Wei-xiong. You see, I like Jiang Cheng.”

“I’m sure you do,” Wei Wuxian said. “But I also think you liked Jin Guangyao, a bit.”

Maybe he had. A bit.

But it wasn’t the same at all!

“I especially won’t tolerate you using him for sex while also –”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellowed, and Wei Wuxian jumped a chi into the air.

Nie Huaisang fanned himself. “Oh good,” he said. “I was about to be worried that you’d misunderstand, Jiang-xiong, but luckily Wei-xiong decided to take all the awkwardness onto himself.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jiang Cheng snarled at Wei Wuxian, who blanched but scowled back.

“I was just trying to help –”

“By embarrassing me?”

“How is it embarrassing to you?!”

“You think I’d be – what – led around by my dick like some new model Jin Guangshan –”

“Oh, that’s a good insult,” Nie Huaisnag said approvingly. “I’m going to need to use that in the future. What do you think the odds are for Lan Wangji biting me if I said it to him?”

That got both of them to stop fighting and turn to look at him.

“What? Does he only bite people he likes now? He used to bite everybody.”

Blank staring.

“That was back when he was five,” Nie Huaisang allowed. “It’s been a while.”

“You have stories about baby Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian said at once, as one might’ve expected. “I want them. All of them. Now.”

“Weren’t you threatening him a moment ago?!”

“That’s different! That was for you!”

“Right, because you don’t think anyone would actually like me,” Jiang Cheng said.

He sounded hurt.

Unacceptable.

“I’m sure Wei-xiong just meant that you were so unbearably attractive that people would compete for the opportunity to manipulate them into your bed,” Nie Huaisang assured him while Wei Wuxian was still trying to find words. “And since Wei-xiong thinks I’m the best schemer, obviously I won hands down, and secretly eliminated all my love rivals to boot. It's all my fault. Alas! I've been caught red-handed!”

“Are you actually capable of saying a single word that isn’t complete nonsense?” Jiang Cheng asked him, his tone having returned to exasperated and fond, which was worlds better than hurt.

Nie Huaisang considered the question seriously and then shook his head.

“You…! Good-for-nothing!”

Nie Huaisang nodded happily. “Your good-for-nothing,” he said cheerfully. “I’m going to make you do everything for me from now on.”

He was, too.

Wei Wuxian looked between them. “Wait,” he said. “Is this – a thing?”

“If you mean Jiang-xiong and I, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s been courting me for years, and I refused.”

“Only on the basis of a secret murder plot which you didn’t want to get me involved in.”

“How was I to know that everything would turn out well in the end? I thought there was every chance san-ge would find a way to drag me down with him. I couldn’t let that happen to you, of course.”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng jeered, but he looked pleased and smug the way he always did when Nie Huaisang admitted to having been won over by the very first day of his courtship, years ago. He liked being successful at things.

“No,” Wei Wuxian said. “Not that. The – good-for-nothing thing. It’s a thing. For you two.”

“Fighting words,” Nie Huaisang remarked, even as Jiang Cheng flushed red. “Coming from the dreadful Yiling Patriarch that needs to be defeated by the mighty and righteous Hanguang-jun and then taken away for a good ravishing –”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Uh - listen – I can explain – actually, no, I can’t. Nie-xiong, you have my blessing, just don’t break his heart, bye.”

“Come back here you -!”

Yes, Nie Huaisang decided, watching Jiang Cheng chase Wei Wuxian. This was the best possible result.

[golden-wingseos]

isle abode

featuring —

✧ eula x f!reader

warnings ―

✧ rumors, mc is from fontaine

notes ―

✧ written for a friend

synopsis ―

✧ while at a party filled with lowly nobles, eula asks you for a dance

Mankind’s fatal flaw was prejudice. Assumptions and hatred thrown at someone due to their last name was fairly common in Mondstadt, especially aimed at descendants of aristocrats who were long gone.

And perhaps it was because of those rumors that you—a foreigner—were able to befriend the infamous Eula Lawrence so fluently. Like a river coursing into the ocean, maybe the stars had aligned to bring you into her life.

Yes, that’s right. Her cold, desolate life. A life driven by vengeance and desperation, a void that she struggled to crawl out of everyday.

It was cold. But you, you were like a flame. And she, maybe she was the person who discovered fire for the first time. Its everlasting warmth in times of cold, cold like this night, cold like the moonlight and the stares she got every time she did something so minor like going outside.

Glancing ahead of her, it was as if the cryo-visioned woman was an island in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but ocean and sea. Here, in this noble party arranged by the Ragnvindr head, Eula was a stranger. A stranger to all these nobles, yet so familiar with those icy stares.

And then you arrived. You and your beautiful Fontaine garments that she would never grow tired of. Unlike Mondstadt, Fontaine was still stuck in a limbo of fancy hats and clothes— as if they were still in the Victorian era.

But that’s not what matters. Here, you were gorgeous, stunning— everything. You were everything to her and everything in general. Now, you were a boat approaching her island, untouched island that nobody dared to know or get close to.

“[Name],” Eula greeted formally, a kind smile on her face as she stared past the side of your head, unfazed at the way those good-for-nothing nobles hid behind their eccentric fans, murmurs and gossip already beginning to spread.

“Eula,” You returned her greeting, bowing politely in a performer-like manner, a signature of Fontaine, your home.

“Care to dance with this sinner?” Holding a gloved hand out generously, a fond smile graced the woman’s lips. Her sky blue hair seemed to shimmer like a beach under the diamond-lantern’s lights, the grin on her face reminding you so benevolently of warmth, such a contrast compared to her crystal-azure vision.

Like a wildfire, rumors already began to spread. Malicious deceits of “Lady [Name] must be blackmailed into dancing with that… thing” and “Poor Lady [Name]... maybe she should’ve stayed in Fontaine” were the hot topic of those nobles, yet even so,

Eula swore. In this little island of hers, this isolated spot with just you and her— she could not hear a single thing. Lies were just lies, rumors were just rumors, truth would never be found in an endless hole of darkness.

So she shone a light. A spotlight only she could see, a light that landed directly on you as you placed your hand in her gloved one. For once, Eula cursed the fabric for getting in between the opportunity of being able to hold your fingers fully, but at the same time, she was grateful for her calluses and scars would never be shown to you.

Because maybe if you learned who she— Eula Lawrence— truly was, you would’ve run like the others. Flee from this island of hers, all because of myths.

“Of course,” You replied with a smile equally as kind as hers, equally as transparent and adoring. You heard those rumors too, definitely, yet you didn’t heed a single thing.

That. That was what the Spindrift Knight fell for. Your genuine search for the truth, a truth that had been shrouded with so many fakes that even she would fall for it if she weren’t careful.

“In truth, Lady Eula,” you held one of her hands in yours, the other swung around her neck for support, “I’m not a very good dancer.”

The woman giggled quietly, moonkissed eyes crinkling in amusement before retaining her previous calm facade.

“That’s alright, just leave it to me, Lady [Name].”

Her gloved hand wrapped around your waist, swinging you along as if she had danced with you numerous times before. Like a lotus on water, Eula was quick to substitute any of your missteps or mistakes, not batting an eye every time you stepped on her feet.

Hair swaying like it was truly an ocean wave, the light taps of her shoes and smalltalk that left her lips were all so alluring. Maybe if this were a mythic time, Eula would be the siren and you would be the bystander. But here, you would willingly give up your life just to hear her voice that seemed to drip with a chilled honey.

That sounds weird, you thought, partially thankful that Eula was not paying attention to your facial expressions, too busy guiding you along the dance floor. Her hand fit so perfectly on your waist, you wondered if it was meant to be there. Perhaps, it was.

Slowing down, the piano and violin came to a stop, signaling the end of the first dance of the night.

Releasing your waist from her hold, Lady Eula bowed politely with her head bent slightly down to the ground, your grip on reality finally becoming tangible once you returned her bow.

“Thank you, Lady [Name].”

“For what?”

Eula smiled. She smiled so faintly, so honestly to your eyes as her smooth pale skin seemed to shine.

“For that dance.”

Preparing to turn around and leave, your body seemed to move faster than your brain could react. With one hand wrapped around the knight’s sleeve, your ears and cheeks suddenly felt hot from the sudden movement.

“Yes?” Eula glanced at your hand, then your face— an amused expression dusted her face like pixie dust as you stared at the floor in shame.

“Ah, I apologize for my rudeness,” you let go of her wrist, “but would you perhaps like to accompany me to the balcony?” In your peripheral, you spotted an open doorway, the moon and stars glimmering past it like a paradise that you could only enter once.

For this moment, you’d like to enter it with her—the sinner—Eula Lawrence. Maybe past those doors, she could soar like she deserved, untouched by the cruel thorns that were cultivated by lowly rumors.

Already coming up beside you, Eula rested a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the balcony you seemed to stare so dreamily at.

“Why of course, my lady.”

Your heart exploded.

Each step felt like you were dragging weights, the thought of Eula’s hand resting on your lower back occupying your mind like how a dying man would only think about living.

Stepping out onto the pearl white balcony, golden railings lined the side, dulling compared to the cryo-visioned woman that stood beside you.

The night was cold, yet for some reason, you felt warm. An indescribable kind of warm, like you were home after venturing out for so long.

“[Name],” Eula dropped the formalities, a shiver running down your spine from the way your name rolled off her lips. Like an iceberg being flipped or a knight’s oath, the heat from the absent sun was nothing that could compare to this feeling. This feeling of love.

You glanced at her, surprised to see she was already staring at you. Staring, staring like you were the most magnificent painting in the world, staring like you were the only thing in the world, this cruel, cold world.

Her eyes. They were like dawn, the sun peeking through the once-dark sky. They looked like all of your dreams personified, everything and anything you’ve ever wanted laid inside those same irises and pupils.

“Yes?”

It was silent—so much so that you could hear the sound of crickets and the way nobles chattered in such an unsophisticated manner. Yet once again, with her, with her and her stardust eyes, her and her ocean blue hair,

Her. For it was all about her.

Studying you like a puzzle, Eula gently took your hands in hers, the chilling feeling of her gloved fingers wrapping around yours, interlacing so perfectly you swore, this galaxy, this era, this moment was made for just her.

They say a knight’s oath is one of the most honorable moments in a knight’s life.

Today, Eula’s oath to you was to love you unconditionally.

Can you see it? In those dawn-blessed eyes?

“Speak,”

“I love you.”

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (8)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(Still no Tech this time, please don’t be mad! But hey we’re in L’manberg now! That’s pog right? Plus we officially meet Wilb and Fundy! But remember y’all, if this chapter doesn’t do well then I can’t write chapter 9! So show chapter 8 some love!! <3)

—————

MOAR ART!

I tried drawing Reader! -> She.

And xoxoyukixoxo-art-dump on here drew her too! She looks so SICK! SHE!

----

He’d been watching her for some time now. 

Not all day and night like some weirdo but he’d noticed instantly when she’d ‘logged on’ so to speak. The first thing to make him curious was him wondering how she arrived here in the first place, but when he tried teleporting to this new person it strangely hadn’t worked. He’d simply not gone anywhere, which was beyond puzzling. He should be able to teleport to anyone on this server. That little tidbit, the not being able to teleport to her, was the second thing to make him curious. So curious in fact that he spent a very long time just looking for her. When the ability to teleport to her was no longer an option he’d found searching for someone was much harder, but in the end he’d found her. And good lord was she a big one. Not taller than endermen or anything bigger but she definitely towered over the villagers she lived with.

He didn’t know how she ended up here since you needed an invite to be allowed on the server. And he knows she wasn’t invited, because he knows ALL the people who are invited. Hell, at one point he even tried banning her (an action which kicks players from the server) but… nothing had happened. He’d been hidden and watching her when he’d done it and she’d not even noticed, just kept on planting flowers around one of the villager’s houses without a care in the world.

He’d unbanned her and nothing changed again. Then he’d tried using other commands on her. Teleport, clear, give, and even Kill. Not a single one did anything. That made him nervous. He’d never encountered something like this before. It was unheard of. If this player decided to become hostile, or End forbid, GENOCIDAL… it would have very disastrous consequences for the other players on the server..

He decided then and there to monitor her deeply until further notice. 

Which turned into him popping up by her village and sneaking in to watch her and what she did day in and day out for a few months. And honestly.. She seemed pretty benign. 

All she really did was change up the village she lived in and decorate. When not doing those things she would do other hobbies like cooking and potion making. She’d also leave the village sometimes to just explore. He took those chances to go inside her home and snoop around. He also noticed aggressive mobs were pretty neutral towards her for whatever reason. That only ever happened if a player had a clear relation to a mob (aka a hybrid) or if the player had creative… Which it looked like she had. But she also didn’t look fully human.

“What a strange being you are..”

-0-

Before you knew it the next day had come, bright and early. 

You’d had to go back to the Overworld around sunrise to get ready to greet Tubbo. You’d explained to Azo that you’d try to come back as soon as you could but for now you had to go on a trip for a while. She was sad to see you go but said okay and to hurry back. Your heart broke all over again, feeling terrible that you had to leave her alone but there was nothing you could do. You’d bring her with you if it were possible but you knew her entering the Overworld would turn her into a zombie instantly. And that’s not a fate you’re willing to make anyone go through.

But you left her a chest with some golden carrots, some apples, and even some of the stew you’d made for Tubbo and Tommy. She liked the stew, so you left her a few bowls and even some juice to drink in case she got thirsty. You hugged her goodbye and told her you’d bring her a gift back. She nodded happily and then you sadly had to leave through the portal. Which you made sure to destroy after exiting it. Didn’t want anything wandering through. That would be a disaster. 

Once you were back in the overworld you went home and sat on your bed and just thought. More than anything you just wanted to step in and prevent Schlatt and Quackity from winning. But you didn’t know if doing that would have dangerous consequences or not. You’d seen so many movies where a small change in the past ends up having massive effects in the future. Damn butterfly effects. Stopping them from winning the election could end up causing a civil war within L’manburg. Or Tubbo, Tommy, or Wilbur could end up hurt or even lose a life. Or something even more devastating could happen. 

...But you hated the thought of Tommy and Wilbur getting exiled. It wasn’t fair or just. Especially while getting shot at and chased down like dogs. Schlatt and Quackity really pissed you off with that part. Seeing Ponk and Punz just instantly turn on the two original founders left you feeling utterly appalled. Schlatt hadn’t even been sworn in as president yet! He’d not taken an oath or anything! None of what he ‘decreed’ should have been taken as law! None of it was legal-

You pause. None of that WAS legal.. right? Did the citizens even know that? Were they aware that simply winning an election wasn’t the instant inauguration that Schlatt and Quackity made it out to be? Surely there was more to L’manburg than simply the bare bones parts that were shown on youtube in your original world. There had to be actual systemic structure for this whole ass small country. You wanted to believe there was, because the alternative made you facepalm. But at this point you honestly just didn’t know. You would need to have a discussion with Wilbur and Tommy (Wilbur more so since he was the adult in this situation).

You needed to talk to Wilbur asap.

-0-

Tubbo and Tommy came to get you bright and early, the blond looking more anxious than he was trying to let on. Seeing the usually so upbeat and grinning boy so nervous made your stomach churn. So you’d pulled him into a hug, not even letting him finish his greeting to you before you did. He went silent and was tense at first. But you took in a breath and said in as reassuring a tone as you could physically muster,

“Don’t worry kiddo. Things WILL be okay. I’ll make sure of it, alright?”

Tommy was silent, but you could hear the choked gasp of breath the boy took in, and you felt how his lanky body seemed to relax in your hold. He awkwardly put his arms around your back, seemingly not used to this, the whole hugging thing. At least not such heartfelt ones. He’s hugged Tubbo, Wilbur, and Philza but this one just felt different. It felt safer. Like if he stayed here nothing could hurt him. It was weird but.. nice. Part of the boy didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to leave this new safe place. Here hugging you there was no fear of losing the election, no worries of wars with the DSMP, there was nothing bad. Just a pleasant warmth he felt like he could just fall asleep to.

But the bigger part of him knew he’d never hide away from his problems. It wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t some baby coward who hid behind mommy for protection when shit got tough. (missing how his subconscious referred to you as ‘mom’) He was a MAN! Nevermind he was barely 16! He was practically an adult (in his own eyes)! He’d fought in a war for independence! He’d battled for his and his countrymen’s freedom! There’s no way he’d cower away from this damned election! 

With a new fire in him, largely in part to the confidence you seemed to have for him and L’manburg, he eventually pulled back from the hug and gave you one of his signature bright grins. He said thanks but there’s no way he was worrying! Like you said, things were gonna be fine! You gave him an encouraging smile in return and agreed, then added that if anything DID go wrong you’d stick by them and make sure it all got resolved. The teens looked grateful for your support. But then you bid the villagers goodbye for now and told the iron golems to make sure to keep them all safe.

Then you three were off to L’manburg.

-0-

Walking into L’manburg was weird. You’d only ever seen parts of it via the videos you’d watched from the various minecraft youtubers. But being there in person was wild, seeing all the buildings and pathways was interesting though. Tommy and Tubbo changed into their ‘presidential attire’, which were just those vaguely old school British military uniforms they wore at the start of the L’manburg thing. You still ruffled their hair and cooed over them, saying they looked like official little men. They got all huffy and Tommy swatted your hand away, making you laugh. Tubbo suggested showing you around before the election began, which you thought was a good idea. So the pair escorted you around L’manburg, showing you the main places plus their houses and favorite spots. You gave Tommy a Look and asked him if he really lived in a dirt hut.

“It’s DIRT Tommy, not even cobblestone. Just a dirty dirt hut,” you said with a sigh.

Tubbo snickered while Tommy tried defending himself. But he honestly was just making excuses though thankfully he got cut off by Wilbur showing up. He was in the same uniform as both teenagers and you saw him giving you a wide eyed look as he walked up. You could tell he was used to not being around someone so much taller than him. Which you guess made sense since he’d been hanging out with teenagers, a girl, and his own son mostly. You think Dream is taller than him but you don’t know how often they’re around each other peacefully to notice height..

“Oh, hello, you must be Reader! Tommy and Tubbo have told me about you!” the brunet man said with a charming smile. 

You returned the smile and held your hand out for him to shake. He gave a firm handshake and you said he must be Wilbur and that the boys had mentioned him to you. He gave a sly smile to the two boys and asked if that was so, and said he hoped they’d said good things about him. Not liking his teasing tone Tommy cut in and said he told you about Wilbur being a bitch! You laughed and Wilbur punched Tommy in the shoulder, laughing when the boy loudly claimed he was abusing a child!

Wilbur rolled his eyes at the blond boy and asked what the occasion for you visiting his lovely country was. You gave a relaxed smile and said you just wanted to come out and support ‘big man’ and Tubbo on this exciting day! Wilbur smiled and perked up when Tubbo said they were giving you a tour of L’manburg. Wilbur asked why the shortest boy didn’t say so before and gestured for you to follow him, saying the best person to give a tour is always the president! You liked his charming enthusiasm but you could still see the nervousness just lurking under the surface for all three of them. You hated that their worry was justified. 

-0-

Wilbur took over showing you around, Tubbo and Tommy right behind him adding little comments here and there to irk him. You ohh’d and ahh’d at the polite times, even saying how cool the place was. You even got shown Wilbur’s ‘ball house’ and their extensive nether pathways briefly. You got a bit distracted in the Nether, wondering if Azo was okay. Though you supposed she was a tough kid, what with having survived in the Nether her whole life so far. But she was just a little kid, still a toddler. She shouldn’t have to survive. She should be living.

“And I guess that’s the whole tour! I hope we’ve given you a good impression of my country~” Wilbur said with a smile, thoroughly snapping your attention back to the present.

You were thankful they couldn’t see how your eyes widened when you realized you’d totally zoned out during the last leg of the tour. Instead of worrying you just gushed and said you’d been really dazzled! The trio grinned and you ruffled Tommy’s hair and said you could expect no less from the big man himself and sweet Tubbo. The pair were happy to hear you praising the country they’d worked so hard to have, with Tommy even playfully swatting your hand away from your hair and saying anything he helped with would be the best. Wilbur gave a very big brother reply of ‘oh really?’ that was dripping with doubt, which started to set Tommy off.

The two started going back and forth, causing you to roll your eyes. Yeah they definitely had the brother vibe about them. Though Wilbur lost interest in arguing when he spotted someone a bit aways behind you and Tommy. He perked up and waved, calling out ‘FUNDY!’ to get his son’s attention. You all glanced over to see a fox hybrid in a uniform that was the same as the boys around you, only the coloring was off. Fundy’s was more pastel colored while the others were darker/more saturated. Wilbur waved him over and you noticed the way Fundy’s muzzle scrunched up when Wilbur threw an arm around his shoulders, but you said nothing. Not really your place but from what you remember of the smp videos… Wilbur wasn’t the ideal father figure to his furry son..

“Fundy, this is Reader! She’s a friend of Tubbo and Tommy’s! She came to support us today,” Wilbur said with a smile.

The fox quirked an eyebrow at you and asked a mildly incredulous voice if your name was actually ‘Reader’. Tommy told him to shut up and pointed out that his name was ‘Fundy’ so he had no room to be criticizing anybody’s name. Fundy raised his paws in surrender and said fine, whatever, no need to jump down his throat about it. You chuckled and said it was okay, it was a rather odd name. And you liked his name, it was cool. Tommy actually boo’d you while Fundy smiled, glad at least someone stuck up for him. Though that reminded Fundy to ask Wilbur if he’d seen the ballots…

Wilbur’s mood darkened and he gave a clipped, “Yeah, I saw them.” His tone making the other L’manburg citizens feel uncomfortable. You spoke up, asking what was wrong with them? Had someone tampered with them or something? Fundy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck and said yes and no. Yes someone had changed them but it wasn’t really ‘tampering’, just altering to fit with the new campaign runners. She gave his upset father a side glance, his triangular shaped ears going back when he saw the way Wilbur’s eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw clenched. Seems the current president was still pissed off that his son and first lady had decided to run against him together..

“Well we had to change the ballots to include all the people running, and even an ‘other’ option… Yeah,” Fundy said lowly.

You couldn’t help the way you raised an eyebrow at that and said, 

“Isn’t that just the standard for ballots? Designing ballots to not show all the people their options would just be criminal.”

Wilbur didn’t seem to like your (in his opinion) unwanted input and said however L’manburg designed their ballots was none of your business anyways, especially since you weren’t even a citizen. You could feel yourself narrowing your eyes at the brunet, though nobody could see it, and replied that you didn’t need to be a citizen to point out that not putting all the names of those running on an ELECTORAL BALLOT was hugely unethical and borderline malicious hindrance to the citizen’s right to free choice. This little snit between you and the current president had dropped the mood low, with the three boys beside you looking more than uncomfortable. 

But thankfully Tubbo found his voice and before Wilbur could retort to your statement he turned to you and said the election and debate would be starting soon and that he’d sit in the audience with you. This reminded Wilbur that he needed to practice his speech and debate responses with Tommy so he straightened his posture and adjusted his coat before giving you a faux smile and then telling Tubbo they’d see him afterwards. You kept a polite smile on your face as the four led you to an open part of the village center where a large stage/platform had been built along with seating in front of it. Wilbur jerked his thumb towards the stage and told Tommy to come on and the blond boy said he’d be right there in a moment. The brunet looked put out but nodded and stalked off, leaving the four alone in the audience area.

Once he was out of earshot you turned to Tommy and gave him a disbelieving look and said in a hushed tone,

“Tommy, you and Wilbur weren’t ACTUALLY planning to tamper with the ballots were you?? That’s insanely unconstitutional! The people of L’manburg have a right to know and be able to choose whichever voting option they want. If they don’t have that option then it’s not a real election, it’s just the illusion of choice.”

The blond looked uncomfortable, sweating and avoiding eye lens contact with you. He felt ashamed because… well that HAD been the plan. At least Wilbur told him it had been before Quackity found out. He’d not been sure about the plan but he hadn’t done much to argue with Wilbur either. He’d convinced himself it wasn’t that big of a deal, but seeing how shocked and offended you looked that they’d even thought about doing that made him feel like a bastard. You saw how nervous he looked and sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing softly before reassuring him you weren’t angry.

“I’m not mad at you Tommy, I’m just disappointed that this was something you went along with. You have to know how wrong that was? Imagine you were a regular citizen and you voted in the election but later found out it was all rigged, you’d never had a choice regarding your country like you’d been led to believe. Wouldn’t you feel wronged?”

Tommy seemed to deflate at your words but gave a remorseful nod, neither of you noticing that your words seemed to have also struck a chord with both Fundy and Tubbo as well. You gave the blond boy a reassuring smile, saying that part of being a member of government was respecting the people’s choices. Even if you think it’s stupid and wrong. You have to let the people choose for themselves. The ability to choose is sometimes the only difference between merely existing on this bitch of a world and actually Living~

Tommy seemed to have taken your words to heart, making you smile at him before pulling him into a half hug and saying sincerely,

“I’m proud of you Tommy, Tubbo too. You’ve both done so much for this country. More than any child should ever have to. I wish more than anything that you’d not HAD to sacrifice and lose so much. But I’ll be here to support you both going forward. I just don’t want either of you doing anything unethical. You’re both better than that.”

Tubbo almost teared up and came over and let his face rest against your side in a show of affection. He’d never had anyone say they were proud of him before and honestly.. he didn’t know how badly he needed to hear it until you said it. Tommy leaned into your hug, close to tearing up like his best friend but he blinked rapidly until the tears faded.

None of them noticed the envious way Fundy stared at them, feeling jealousy bubble in his stomach at the way you seemed to care for the two boys. He felt childish for feeling that way but he couldn’t help it. You clearly cared about the two in a maternal way, that much was obvious. But you weren’t treating them like babies either. You were respectful and loving at the same time. Fundy wondered if that’s what it was like to have a mother..

“TOMMY! COME ON! THE RALLY STARTS SOON!”

They all broke away when they heard Wilbur yelling down at them from the podium. Tubbo sighed and Tommy straightened his hat before giving a cheeky smile. You told him to go give his best, and no matter what happened you’d be proud. This pumped the blond boy up and he gave a cheer before ruffling Tubbo’s hair and turning to the stage and running up around the side to get to the top, you and the brunet watching him go. That’s when you remembered the fox hybrid that was still standing close by. You offer him a calm smile and say kindly,

“So, Fundy was it?”

------

tagged folks: @salinesoot​ @lady-bee-fechin​ @kacchasu​ @putridjoy​ @lunawritesstories​ @galaxypankitty3030​ @paradigmax​ @zachariethememerie​ @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake

[falling-pages]

Oh no I'm late to the Bakugou party! (if you want to) I'll send a request of Bakugou using his quirk to light your cigarette. Perhaps you two are sitting outside a coffee shop, talking or rather bantering back and forth, and you pull out a cigarette to which he leans forward and sets the tip ablaze, all while keeping eye contact -

Sis 🥵 Thank you for this!! I deviated it a little bit to make it a hurt/comfort fic, so I hope that’s okay. It took me a minute to figure out, but in the end I’m happy with the result! I had fun with the banter and making their history. I also threw in a little bit of mutual pining to tug at the heartstrings.

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Description: When Bakugou’s childhood best friend is injured in battle, he goes against all hero training to get them to a safe place and comfort them against the pain, realizing new feelings in the process.

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Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugou x Pro-Hero Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Fluff, Childhood Friends-to-Lovers

Warnings: Smoking, blood.

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“Just give it to me!” you snarled, lashing your fingers at Bakugou as he dragged you along the sidewalk. Even as the rough concrete dragged against your back, grating against the sensitive skin exposed by the rips in your hero costume, all you could focus on was the aching need lodged in the back of your spine.

Bakugou listened to you whine, only rolling his eyes as he continued to haul you along the street. He wished he could carry you--it would be a lot faster, and it would put you in less pain--but with his left arm wounded by the same villain that took a bite out of your side, you’d have to be content with the bumpy ride.

It was the opposite of everything he’d ever learned in his hero training, but this was you, his best friend, and he couldn’t leave you vulnerable and hurt on the ground for the villains.

“No, dumbass,” he grunted. His right arm muscles strained from carrying you. “You need medics, not a cigarette.”

“Give me both then!” you demanded. “Baky, come on, you know I need one right now!”

“If you need a smoke that badly, I’ll explode in your face. Inhale that.”

“Not the same.” 

Bakugou ignored your rant, only focused on finding a safe place. When he was a student he would have thought this cowardly, running away from a battle, but as soon as he saw you fall a few minutes ago all he could focus on was getting you away from the fight and hidden from villains. Despite the public oath he took upon graduation to protect the city and its citizens above all else, you were his best friend, and you came first.

His eyes searched the streets for any refuge. Despite the nice weather, no one was outside, a welcome relief. For once they actually listened to orders and stayed inside. He didn’t have to worry about you and some clueless civilian getting mixed up in a villain’s way.

But, if someone were here, maybe they could have helped.

Soon your complaints turned to pained whimpers, and Bakugou’s heart raced as he realized he had little time left. You needed a hiding spot and a doctor, and fast.

“Hang on, dumbass,” he said, tightening his hold on you. “You’re not dying on me. That’s extra behavior.”

“I’m not an extra,” you grumble.

“Hell no you’re not. So just stay with me.”

Despite the raging pain flowing through your body, you cracked a smile. He couldn’t see it, but it warmed your heart to know he cared. Even if he was awful about admitting it.

As he got more fatigued, your body got heavier. For both of your sakes, he needed to find a hiding spot fast.

Finally, he found a closed coffee shop with a broken lock and dragged you inside. He hid the two of you behind the counter, amid bags of coffee beans and pristine equipment. Though the lights were off, the windows were big enough to let him see just how badly you were injured.

Slightly delirious, you rested your head against a sack of flour to stop the world from spinning. Your injury was bad enough, but him dragging you across the city exacerbated the blood loss. The edges of your vision were fogging up.

You felt his hands on your stomach, hooking under the torn strips of cloth and ripping to expose your lower abdomen where the bite was. Too hurt to even be embarrassed, you let him examine you. The rush of air was cold against your burning skin.

Bakugou sucked in his breath. You had been attacked by some sort of poison villain, a new one. They had sunk their fangs into you and pumped toxins, causing the veins stretching across your stomach to turn a sickly neon blue as the poison spread. When they detached their fangs, they took a chunk with them, leaving an exposed wound down the side of your body.

If the poison were as dangerous as it looked, you would have died already. What he needed to focus on now was your blood pooling on the floor.

He crouched above you, instinctually shielding you in your weakened state. The villain had attacked him too, but he managed to rip them off before the toxins could paralyze him, only leaving a bloody wound in his bicep. In the heat of battle, he had to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding…

“Hey, idiot,” he said, snapping his fingers. You slowly opened your eyes, watching him in paralytical annoyance. “I’m going to use my quirk to stop the bleeding, okay? Bite this.” He found a spare dish towel and strapped it in your mouth, both to protect your tongue and keep your screams quiet from anyone who may have followed the blood trail outside.

You accepted it, but your eyes betrayed the fear ricocheting through your body. Just as he lowered his good arm to your wound, a tear slid down your face, catching his attention. With the most comforting expression he could muster, he lifted his numb hand and wiped the tear away, letting it rest against your cheek for a few subtle moments.

“Hey,” he whispered, gruff voice lowered into a calming tone. “I know this is going to hurt. I’m sorry. But this is the only way to stop this type of bleeding, so you need to be brave for me, alright?”

A couple more tears escaped as you nodded. He dutifully wiped them off. He pushed your hair back from your eyes and made you look at him, showing you his blown-out pupils and just how scared he was, too. 

“You are the bravest person I know, and that’s saying something, especially considering myself.” You smiled at his attempt at a compliment. “So I just need you to keep being brave.” In lost judgement, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, feeling how hot your face was even beneath his lips. You shed another tear, not from pain, but from gratitude for not being alone. 

As he kissed you, he activated his quirk, letting the heat consume your side. Fire licked at your skin as you mustered a scream, biting down on the dish towel in an attempt to lash out. Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours, pinning down your legs with his own to keep you still as you thrashed, muffled curse words mixing with your cries. 

“Just a few more seconds,” he whispered, feeling your skin close beneath his hand. “Hang on.”

You grabbed his other hand and squeezed, needing something to anchor your consciousness. He let you, returning the affection even with the little feeling he had in the wound. Each scream pierced his heart.

Finally, he felt the wound close completely and released your side, waving away the smoke that scorched your skin. You panted and spit out the towel, eyes rolling back from the shockwaves of pain. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would have to do for now. At least the bleeding stopped; an antidote could come later.

“Baky…” you whined.

He knew what you needed, silently getting up and finding a mug to fill with water. You struggled to sit up, pain blinding every move, until you felt hands shift beneath your armpits and pull you into a sitting position. He moved your head to rest against the counter and brought the cup up to your lips.

“Drink.”

You did as you were told, gulping the liquid as quickly as you could. Bakugou yanked the cup away mid-sip, making you choke. Water dripped down your chin as you shot him a dirty look.

“Small sips.”

You grabbed the mug to hold it for yourself, though his hands still hovered lightly against you. His bright red eyes stayed trained on yours as you followed his instructions, draining the cup bit by bit, until it was empty and you were satisfied. 

You held his gaze for a little while longer, daring him to do something, anything.

“Thank you,” you finally whispered, feeling the pressure of his strong hands overcome you, making you put the mug down on the floor. His hands covered yours, worn scars upon worn scars, warmth upon warmth.

He rocked on his heels and smirked. “You’re not dying on me, extra. You’re damn wrong if you think you can get out of opening an agency with me.”

“I’m not an extra,” you spat again, but he heard the mirth in your voice. The promise you made together in high school makes you feel warm, flooding your insides with nostalgia, filling your mouth with honey. Open your own agency together, be Heroes together or not at all. 

Today, it was almost not at all.

“I want--”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou read your mind. He reached into the hidden compartment of his gauntlet and presented your favorite pack of cigarettes, pulling out a long, slender stick and perching it on your lips. His hand lingered a second too long, brushing against your chin, but his eyes widened as they met yours. 

A fleeting desire crossed your mind, like a comet streaking against the sky, but then the ache in your side sent you back to earth.

“Thanks.” You said, lifting your hand to push the cigarette further into your mouth. 

“Tch. Those things will kill you,” Bakugou grumbled, but he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact, until he was close enough to almost taste the other end. His gaze dropped down to your mouth, back to your eyes, and then down again as he raised his hand.

With a tiny pop, his palm connected to the cigarette butt and produced an explosion just big enough to light up the end. The buzz filled your mouth and crawled down the back of your throat, scratching that sweet itch. As you inhaled, Bakugou shook his hand out to clear the smoke.

“Can’t be much worse than this poison villain.” You took a breath. “I’m bouncing back fine.”

Bakugou huffed, setting his sight on the blue veins on your abdomen. “You weren’t the one carrying a basically unconscious body.”

“First of all, I was conscious, and second of all, you were dragging me. There was no ‘carrying’ in this scenario.” You watched the guilt manifest in his eyes, that rare sight of remorse. “So if I get skidmarks on my back, that’s on you.”

“Would be a cool scar. You could match Dunceface’s lightning strikes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching as he inhaled the smoke. His eyes sparkled like rubies in the night sky. “Maybe. But at least I know you’ll save me again.”

“Tch. I have since we were kids, haven’t I? I will, forever.”

He wasn’t looking at you. Guilt settled in his stomach as he stared at the charred skin stretching between your ribs and hip, thinking about how much pain he must have caused you. You winced as you leaned forward to touch his shoulder, leveling eye to eye and just a few inches apart. The movement seemed to send an electric shock through him as he forced himself to meet your gaze. 

He had been your partner, your protector, for as long as he could remember. And today, he let his guard down, and you got hurt. You almost died. And in saving your life, he had caused you more pain.

Your aching scream would fill his nightmares for the rest of his life.

“You didn’t do this to me, Katsuki.” His teeth rippled along his lower lip as you said his first name. The familiarity of your voice, your scent, your touch washed his heart in peace. You were here. You were with him. You were safe.

“I did. I exploded your side.” He wanted to shake you off, pay penance for his guilt with a broken heart, but your grip was like steel. “Some hero I am, doing this to--”

“You saved my life!” you screeched. “Katsuki, look--look at me!”

He turned his eyes to you, but he wasn’t looking at you, he was busy searching for any other explanation for how close you were now.

“If you hadn’t been watching me when that villain attacked me, I would be dead. If you hadn’t dropped everything and dragged me to safety, I would be dead. If you hadn’t used your quirk on me, I would be bleeding out in front of you.” You pant and grab his face, forcing him to look into your soul, into your heart, into the very depths of feelings you had for him. “You saved my life. You are a hero.”

He was puzzled. You were a pro-hero. He didn’t need to protect you anymore. So why was he insistent on watching?

Because he could never take his eyes off you.

He whispered your name as if it were a prayer, thanking everyone who cared to listen, as he leaned in and kissed you.

Your heart shattered, but in the best way, as if it had been puzzle assembled incorrectly and each piece was falling back into its perfect place.

As if he could control it, the pain lessened the longer Bakugou kissed you, gently grabbing your waist opposite your wound. The kiss was salty, and warm, and long, the product of years of pining and pent-up feelings. Every time you tried to pull away, he would bring you back in, as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening and needed more proof. You, too, couldn’t believe how gently your angry blond friend held you. It was the opposite of everything you had ever known about him, but maybe you had a good influence on him.

Maybe, this was the start of something new.

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