#AO3 caused me emotional distress with this one folks

[banannabethchase]

Matt was so focused on a bit for BTE that he misses his flight out to LA, and finds himself stuck in North Carolina. How lucky is he that a certain cowboy, a certain ex, sees his sad Instagram post and is able to give him an alternative.

~

Song title inspired by Heart Upon My Sleeve by Avicii feat. Imagine Dragons.

I had all of this read to publish like half an hour ago then AO3 stopped working and deleted all the edits and formatting I did. So. I am Upset.

~

“I know, I know,” Matt says, propping the phone up between his cheek and shoulder. “Just go without me.”

“You’ll miss your flight,” Nick says. “You know that, right? If you wait too long –”

“Nick, it’ll be fine,” Matt says, a little too sharply. “I’ll get there. You two get to the airport.” Matt hangs up the phone instead of dealing with Kenny and Nick’s haranguing, going back to the camera. He really needs to get this bit filmed in a hotel room – if he does it in an airport or at home, it won’t feel right.

It's another three takes, another half an hour, which Matt doesn’t realize until his alarm goes off.

“Uh oh.”

That’s his get to the gate alarm.

Matt pulls up Google Maps to find that the airport is half an hour away, and his flight leaves in an hour. Before he can do anything else, Nick’s name pops up on Caller ID.

“You’re still at the hotel, aren’t you.”

“I lost track of time,” and Matt won’t admit it to anyone else, but he’s whining. “Are they, like, boarding?”

“Yeah, me and Kenny are in line to get on the plane, man,” Nick says. “You’re screwed.”

Matt winces as he looks around the hotel. He still has to pick up the hotel room, still has to call a Lyft, still has to wait for it, still has to check out. “I’m screwed,” he says in a small voice.

“Call the airport and see if you can get a later flight out,” Kenny yells into the phone. “There’s got to be other flights.”

“Please stop reminding me you’re on your way to LA and I’m not,” Matt grumbles. “The one week you decide to come hang out.”

“Keep us posted on the other flights available,” Nick says. “Hopefully there are a bunch.”

There are, he finds out an hour and a half later when he gets to the front of the line of the check in area of the airport, but they’re all four or more hours away.

“And I wouldn’t bet on those flights making it to LA,” says the airline attendant. She turns the screen so Matt can see it. “Big storm across the Midwest. Honestly, if I were you, I’d find a place to stay here and try a flight tomorrow.”

Matt fights the urge to whine. “Okay,” he says, deflating. “Yeah, I’ll. I’ll check out a hotel. Thank you, ma’am.”

“No problem.”

Matt posts an Instagram story of himself pouting in the airport, captioning it with, “Stuck in North Carolina.”

As he’s scrolling hotel options, he gets a text.

[12:47pm]

You’re stuck in North Carolina?

Matt refuses to get too fluttery over a text from Adam. It’s clearly just him checking in.

[12:48pm]

big storm across the Midwest no flights out until Friday night they said

There’s a pause, and the phone dings

[12:56pm]

Need a ride?

Matt panics about the response for long enough to make it weird, then makes himself text back.

[1:03pm]

Not unless you can get me to la

[1:16pm]

If you want, you can stay at my place until it all clears up. I drove into NC so I’m about to make the trip back

Matt stares at his phone, rereading the text three times before allowing himself to believe what he’s seeing.

[1:20pm]

If that’s too weird, you can pretend I never sent that. But I’m happy to help you get wherever you need to go.

Matt’s stuck here until he can get a flight out, probably in a miserable hotel room bed that'll kill his back. Or, he’s going on a road trip with his ex to his ex’s house, who he just recently got back on texting and speaking terms with.

Unfortunately, Matt’s better at suffering emotional discomfort than physical.

[1:26pm]

that would be great. im at the airport if you could swing by

[1:30pm]

Yeah of course. GPS says 30 minutes, but I need to pack up and get ready. I'll text when I'm almost there. See you soon.

Matt is half vibrating as he waits outside the airport. He looks like any other person, hanging out while waiting for their ride. But he feels like this is different.

He and Adam haven’t been alone together, really alone, for any significant amount of time for years. Matt’s knee starts going a little nuts as he sits on the bench, so he stands up and gives in to the urge to pace around the small waiting area.

And then a familiar truck comes by. A few new dents, what looks like a new interior. But it’s the same truck.

“Hey, stranger, need a ride?” Adam leans down and grins at Matt, and, god, Matt had missed his dumb little jokes.

“Hey, Hanger,” Matt says, throwing the smile back at him. He chucks his hard side suitcase in the back of the truck with a grunt then brings his backpack and carryon into the cab.

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Where are you gonna sit?”

“They fit!”

“They – they don’t,” Adam says. “I mean, the backpack probably can, but the – the little rolly guy, you’re gonna have to chuck that in the truck bed, too.”

Matt wants to argue, wants to say that there is important stuff in here that really shouldn’t roll its way around the back of a truck when rain could hit at any moment. But then he remembers that Adam is doing him a huge favor, and he relents.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. He tosses the carryon over the edge into the bed. “You don’t have a lot of stuff.”

Adam shrugs. “Didn’t need a lot this time, since all I had to do was drive down yesterday morning.”

“You drove four hours yesterday?”

Adam nods as he puts the car into drive and pulls out expertly around the manic airport drivers, making his way to the main airport road with ease. “I like driving. Redid the truck cab to make it even more comfortable.”

“I noticed,” Matt says, before he thinks about it.

Adam glances over at him. “You did?”

Matt nods. “I mean, I spent a lot of time in this truck, right?”

Adam starts to blush, just a little bit, and Matt absolutely didn’t mean it like that. “Um. Right.”

They make their way out of the airport mess, and onto the highway.

“Thanks, again, for this,” Matt says.

Adam chuckles.

“What?!”

“Thanks again implies you said thank you the first time,” Adam says.

~

Matt’s never been this uncomfortable in his life. The drive started off awkward, yeah, but this is somehow worse. It’s been two hours since they left the airport, and everything they do or say has made the cab of the truck feel like it’s airtight and the oxygen is quickly depleting. Adam keeps making random half comments, things Matt can’t even begin to parse, but shuts up before any of it makes sense. Matt has pointed out five cows.

They’ve maybe exchanged six full sentences since getting on the highway, and that’s being generous.

Matt’s leg is bouncing like mad and he can’t control it, just pulls his fingers into fists and wishes he knew what to say to make this less awful.

“So you wanna talk about why you’re freaking out, or are you just gonna let your leg vibrate the cab of my truck into the stratosphere?”

Matt exhales. At least one of them said something. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Adam says, laughing a little bit. “Because that,” he nods down at the way Matt’s knee is still going, “suggests a very normal and put together person.”

Matt adjusts so he’s got his legs uncomfortably crossed, forcing his knee down. “I’m normal.”

“You are fucking not,” Adam says. “It’s fine, though. It’s why people like you.”

Matt glances over at him, Adam’s eyes are locked on the road. “Sure. I guess.” Before he can say anything else stupid, his phone rings.

“Hey, buddy!” Kenny says. “LA’s looking great. But…” He trails off, frowning. “I figure answering means you didn’t get a flight out, huh.”

Matt shakes his head. “Nope. Yours was the last flight toward the west to go out, actually.”

“Where are you?” Kenny asks. “You sound funny.”

Matt can’t help but flick his eyes over to Adam when he says, “Um. Adam’s letting me stay at his place for a couple of days, until the weather clears up.”

Kenny’s quiet for a moment. “Am I on speaker phone?”

Matt clicks it up and holds the phone up to his ear. “Not anymore.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Matt?” Kenny says, voice low. Matt hates being on this end of Kenny’s Dad voice.

“Everything’s fine, Kenny, he’s just helping me out.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Kenny says. “He’s going to hurt you again.”

“It’s fine, Kenny,” Matt says. His voice is tense. He can’t fix it. “I’ll text you when we get there or something. It’s fine.” He pauses. “And, uh. Don’t tell Nick.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Matt can pretty much hear Kenny roll his eyes. “Fuck it. Fine. Just don’t get yourself killed, you dumbass.” And he hangs up.

“Sorry about that,” Matt mumbles, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Kenny seems,” Adam pauses, searching for words, “agitated.”

Matt shrugs. “He’s been weird the past few months about everything. It’s not you.”

They’re quiet for a while, and Matt wonders if Adam is desperately trying to come up with something to say just like Matt.

“I can drop you off at Kenny’s, if you want,” Adam says, hesitantly.

“No, it’s the opposite direction,” Matt says. “Literally. That’s not fair to you. Plus,” he squirms a little that he’s about to admit this, “I feel weird staying there without him. The walls make weird noises.”

Adam nods. “Yeah, I get that. The one time I visited there was this weird squeaking sound in the walls. Sounded like a mouse, but Dobby would have gone nuts over it.”

Matt processes that for a second. “You visited Kenny?”

Adam sits up a little straighter. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, right before All Out.”

“You visited Kenny during the pandemic?” Matt asks. He has no right to be mad. He doesn’t. They were well and broken up at that point, hadn’t spoken in a few days. “What the hell, Adam?!”

“It didn���t involve an airplane,” Adam says through gritted teeth, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “And it was your fault for refusing to come stay with me right before everything shut down, anyway.”

“My fault?!” Matt yells, and he glances at the clock. Here they go. “You had just pulled that weird stuff at Revolution – you were acting like you didn’t even know me!”

“You could have spoken to me once!”

Thus begins the worst two hours or so of Matt’s life in a long damned time, which he knows because he keeps checking the time. They go back and forth, shooting long-forgotten accusations and angry defenses at each other like blows in the ring. Matt almost wishes they’d been able to do this in the ring, where he could hear the smack of Adam’s open palm against his chest instead of the words, “You cared about your stupid YouTube channel more than me and you know it!”

“I went to California so that Nick wouldn’t be alone!”

“Which means you were okay with me being alone!”

He wishes he could hear the thud of his body against the mat when Adam would powerslam him instead of, “Don’t pretend you gave a shit in the trio’s match, Matt, you just wanted another belt.”

“I asked you to be my partner first. Before Kenny was even cleared!”

“Right, because I’ll believe that.”

“You should, because it’s the truth, you jerk.”

They’re yelling about something that happened way back in Ring of Honor, a miscommunication when they were first dating, when they take the turn off the highway toward the little country roads that are a little too familiar to Matt. He glances at the clock for the millionth time, then back out at the charming roadside stores. And then Adam interrupts him.

“Stop fucking timing our argument!” Adam yells. “Fuck, Matty, you still annoy me the same goddamn way!”

Matt shrinks. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“You keep looking at the center display every, like, two minutes,” Adam says, voice calmer than it’s been in a while. “Unless you’re super interested in my mileage, which I doubt, it’s the clock.” He sighs. “Just like you always used to.”

“I didn’t just time our fights,” Matt says, his voice quiet. “I time everything. You know that.” He chances a glance over at Adam, who, despite fighting it, is unable to fully hide his smile. Matt can find it in the corners of Adam’s eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Adam says, voice low. “Two hours seven minutes.”

“And fifty-three seconds,” Matt adds.

They’re quiet for a few moments. But Matt is stupid, and he wants the last word, and he’s still not over this one thing. “I just think it’s a dick move that you straight up abandoned us.”

“Would you stop bringing that up!” Adam half yells. “Jesus, you guys made it pretty fuckin’ clear you didn’t want me around anymore. Kenny was acting like a dick and you and Nick kicked me out of the Elite. Hell, even before the pandemic you acted like you were sick of me!”

“I did not,” Matt says, suddenly even angrier. “You don’t – don’t you dare say that.”

Adam laughs, a little mean. “Yeah. Sure. I bet you were just waiting to break up with me. Had to find an excuse, right?”

“I bought a ring.”

Matt waits as Adam corrects his truck from crashing into a mailbox. “You what?!”

“A ring,” Matt says, and it’s hell to keep his voice steady. He doesn’t know why he’s saying it – to hurt Adam, to help Adam, to apologize. To prove that he was always so much more in it than Adam was. To show that he put in the effort Adam accused him of shirking. “Revolution 2020? Yeah, I was planning on proposing that night.” He ignores the catch in his voice. “It was the four of us putting on the match of a lifetime at Revolution, but it would be you and me forever.”

Adam is silent, and Matt looks over to see him staring dead ahead, lips pressed together in a firm line. “You bought a ring,” he finally says, voice shaky and wet. “For – for me?”

“Yes, for you, you dumb idiot,” Matt half shrieks. All composure gone, he continues. “And then you almost hit Kenny with a Buckshot, and you wouldn’t even talk to me and Nick after, and – and you proved it was always all about winning for you.” He angrily rubs at his eyes, refusing to let any tears into this conversation. “Proved that I was only there to help you get what you wanted. And that wasn’t me.”

Matt’s glad for the seat belt when Adam takes a rapid right turn into a surprisingly secluded little area without a word.

“Are you gonna kill me in the woods?” Matt asks, trying to hide his worry. “This feels very serial killer, Adam.”

“I am not,” Adam says, voice disturbingly calm as he pulls into a practically empty campsite, “going to kill you.”

“Oh, cool, leave me to die in the woods, of course.” Matt will admit it: he’s a bit hysterical. Adam parks and it’s…it’s not comforting. “Cool. Good to know you’re still willing to drop me and leave me to –”

Adam leans over and yanks Matt into a kiss that he feels down to his toes, half crawling into Matt’s lap, and makes this miserable, tearing noise from the back of his throat. Matt remembers to kiss back just in time for Adam to pull away. “You stupid, self-centered, bastard,” Adam says, voice ragged. He’s crying, trails of tears down his cheeks. “I only ever wanted you, you dumb fucking – god, I could kill you right now.”

“Not super comforting,” Matt mumbles.

“Just shut up for once in your fucking life!” Adam yells. It feels like it echoes around the cab of the truck, sinks into Matt’s skin. “Matt, Jesus fucking Christ, you stupid – I walked away because I couldn’t stand what I’d done to you!” He pounds the steering wheel with his fist, teeth gritted together. “And – and then, before All Out. When I thought I’d have to – when I thought we would…” He trails off and finally looks at Matt again, eyes red and wet and face shattered. “I couldn’t hurt you like that again,” Adam whispers. “I left the Elite to keep from hurting you more. I couldn’t let it happen again in the ring.”

They sit in it, for god knows how long. Matt’s pretty sure they’re, like, a few miles away from Adam’s home.

Eventually, Matt has to speak. “I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking. I didn’t – I thought you. I thought you stopped loving me.”

Adam laughs and closes his eyes, dropping his head back against the head rest. “How the fuck could anyone ever stop loving you?” He turns to Matt. “How could you think I’ve ever stopped?”

Matt lets out this weird little noise. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Adam says, turning his body to Matt. His hand is an inch away from Matt’s on the middle seat. “That the day you and Nick and Kenny came to have my back in the ring, I almost died. Because it was proof I might still matter to you.” He reaches up and cups Matt’s cheek. “That loving you for all this time made me worth another shot.”

Matt can’t fight it. He leans forward and catches Adam’s lips, climbing into Adam’s lap. He tries to tell Adam everything he hasn’t been able to say for almost three years, apologies, confessions, questions, anything he can think of. His hands cup Adam’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears that make their ways down his faces.

His ass hits the steering wheel and the honk makes him jump.

“We, uh,” Adam says, eyes flicking to Matt’s lips, “we should get back to my – my house. We. We could.”

“God, please,” Matt says. He has to force himself off of Adam’s lap and onto the passenger seat. Adam doesn’t let go of his hand as he starts up the car and tears out of there like a bat out of hell. It’s only ten minutes before they pull into the long driveway in front of Adam’s house, familiar dirt and bumps that send something bizarrely nostalgic through Matt’s entire body.

Adam parks and turns to Matt. “I – I want –”

Matt nods rapidly, unbuckling and jumping out of the truck. Adam meets him around the front of the truck and they grab at each other on their ways to the door, Adam fumbling for the house keys and pressing Matt up against the door at the same time. The weight of him feels the same kind of thrilling, the same anticipation, as it always did before, and he almost falls backward before Adam catches him by the waist as the door pushes open.

“Bedroom,” Matt half pleads, “please.”

Adam laughs, turning them to shove Matt against the wall. “Yeah, Matty. I – yeah.”

Matt’s head spins as Adam gets two strong hands under his thighs and pulls his legs up.

“Just like old times,” Matt murmurs against Adam’s lips. He loops his legs around Adam’s waist and hooks them, and the balance is set so Adam can pull back from the wall and walk them down the hall to the bedroom. They don’t break away for more than a second on the way there, and it’s like they never stopped.

Adam half throws Matt on the bed and yanks his tee shirt off over his head.

“Aw,” Matt says, a little stupid already, “I wanted to do that.”

“Next time,” Adam laughs, and it sounds like a promise.

They kiss frantically for some time, hands roaming familiar planes of each other’s bodies, and Matt thinks he could melt into this moment and stay here for the rest of his life.

“I – I want you – I want you to –” Adam stumbles over his words, almost shaking.

“Slow down,” Matt says, and he reaches up to rest his hand on the side of Adam’s neck. “Hey, Adam. Breathe.”

Adam nods, still a little wild eyed, but he slows down and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to mess it up again,” he says.

Matt sees the tears welling in his eyes. “Adam,” he says. “Hey. Adam. Nobody’s going to mess anything up this time.” He rolls them so he’s straddling Adam’s hips, hands pressing Adam’s shoulders to the mattress. “Adam,” he says again, because having the right to speak that name feels like a privilege, “I promise. We’re going to be okay.”

Adam sighs. “I don’t want this to be one time, Matty.” He settles his hands on Matt’s hips. “I can’t do this if it’s just pretend.”

Matt lets that settle over him. It’s a decent question – is this a spur of the moment? Or is this a road to what comes next? He thinks about it. He considers it.

And he speaks.

“Okay,” Matt says, smoothing his hands over Adam’s chest. “Yeah. I – don’t expect the ring, not yet, but.” He nods. “I want you to come back to me, Adam.”

Adam reaches up and yanks Matt down into another blazing kiss, his hands sliding up the back of Matt’s shirt, hesitating just a tiny bit. Matt leans back enough to let Adam pull the shirt up over his head.

“How do you look like this,” Adam murmurs, hands sliding up and down Matt’s back. The touch sends sparks through him, desperate for more.

“Weights, genetics, being God’s favorite,” Matt says. He grins at the way Adam rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, you never change.”

They fall into it, clothes strewn across the room in record speed, before Adam’s fingers skitter down Matt’s back to the top of his ass.

“Can I…?”

“Please,” Matt begs. “If you stop, I might die.”

Adam moves his fingers in a decision that makes Matt want to throw a shoe, but he reaches to the bedside table and pulls it open.

“Always so prepared,” Matt singsongs. His voice cuts off quickly, though, with the way Adam locks eyes with him. He drops lube on his fingertips.

“Lean forward, princess, so I can take care of you.”

 And there it is. That low voice from Adam, that focused control, that masterful understanding of Matt’s body and how to make it sing. His fingers work gentle magic, sliding into Matt and fitting like puzzles, and Matt can’t help but rock back against the touch. “More,” he whimpers, “too soft.”

“Patient, baby,” Adam says, leaning up to press kisses to the skin of Matt’s chest. “Be patient.”

Matt squirms, though, terrible with patience, and pushes down. “More,” he says, a little more demanding. “Come on!”

“Maybe I want to draw it out,” Adam says, fingers sliding at a pace almost excruciatingly slow, “maybe I’ve wanted this for so long that I won’t want to miss a second. Maybe,” he leans up, a little bite at Matt’s pec, “I want to make you wait.”

And, well. To Matt, that sounds like a challenge.

He rolls his hips down onto Adam’s fingers until there’s two, until there’s three, until he can feel Adam beneath his hips, rock hard.

“I’m ready, Adam, please,” Matt says. “I want you.”

“You have me,” Adam says, deadly serious as he looks into Matt’s eyes. “I promise.”

Adam slides his cock into Matt even better than his fingers, and Matt almost falls against him in relief. He never knew he could miss a feeling so much. “I missed this so much.” Matt’s almost crying with it as he rocks his hips, eyes fluttering shut as he angles better against Adam’s body.

“Me too,” Adam says. “God, you’re beautiful.”

They’re silent for some time, Matt doesn’t know, as they rock slowly, relishing the moment. They forgive each other over and over, with gentle touches and rocking hips, and with Adam’s hands resting gentle on Matt’s thighs. The weight steadies him, makes him feel whole.

He slowly opens his eyes to see Adam looking up at him with an ethereal little grin. He looks years younger, like he did when they first met on the indies.

“Adam,” Matt murmurs, “are you close?”

“Almost,” Adam says. “I – I could be.”

Matt stills immediately, and Adam stares at him.

“What?”

Matt grins. “Be patient, baby. Maybe I want to make you wait.”

Adam glares at him. “Oh, you’re a dick.”

Matt shrugs. “And?”

Adam laughs and Matt moves, bringing him closer and closer to release before freezing his motions until Adam relaxes again. Adam starts begging, pleading, singing Matt’s name beautifully.

Tears have gathered in the corners of Adam’s eyes again, for very different reasons, as he pleads again. “Please, Matt,” he gasps, “I need – I have to. Please.”

“Okay,” Matt says, on the edge himself. “I – you can come, baby, it’s time.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Adam gets an arm around Matt’s lower back and flips them, driving into Matt with single minded fury. Matt comes almost immediately untouched, the tension and the build crashing through him so hard he cries out Adam’s name and digs his nails into Adam’s back. Adam comes soon after with a hoarse sob, his face turned into Matt’s leg, and shoves himself into Matt one final time as the two of them calm down, bodies going more and more limp as the seconds pass.

“So, I know this is a weird thing to ask,” Matt asks, running his fingers through Adam’s hair, “but our stuff is safe in your truck, right?”

Adam laughs then pushes himself up so he can look at Matt. “Yes, it’s fine. My nearest neighbor is, like, two miles away. There’s no one out here.”

“So you can’t be sure there’s nobody living in your barn, waiting for you to come home so they can steal your food.” Matt pushes himself to sitting so he can kiss Adam before he steps out of the bed. “That’s a bit naïve, isn’t it?”

Adam shrugs and stands, stretching his arms out. It’s a good sight. Matt intentionally doesn’t look away.

“Come on,” Adam says, reaching out an arm. “Let’s take a shower. I remodeled it back in 2020. I think you’ll like it.”

Matt blinks. “Did you finally add the jacuzzi?”

Adam nods. “You were right. Changes everything.”

They wrap themselves around each other as they wash each other’s hair, as they clean themselves up, and Matt is unable to keep himself from the question. “When exactly did you do this?”

Adam doesn’t meet his eyes. “Finished it that May. I started it back when you refused to quarantine with me, when you were mad.” He fidgets a little. “I thought it would convince you to come back.”

Matt curls into himself. “Oh.”

They’re quiet as they dry off. Matt wraps himself in one of Adam’s giant towels and half fidgets while Adam gets changed. “Could you, um. Would you be able to bring my stuff into the car?”

“Yeah, course,” Adam says. “I know your thing about putting dirty clothes back on. Planning on getting your bag once I’m dressed.” He gives Matt a shy little smile and leans in, kissing Matt’s cheek as he does his belt. “I’ll be right back, baby.”

Matt sits down on the bed, cozy in his towel, as he watches Adam walk away.

And he thinks, maybe, the ring that’s still in his top drawer at home could soon find a home on Adam’s finger. Maybe, this time, he’ll be able to ask. And maybe Adam will say yes.

~

Mini Playlist: Heart Upon My Sleeve - Avicii feat. Imagine Dragons What I Need - Hayley Kioko Cowboy Take Me Away - The Chicks Back Together - Loote

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 16 | April 11th – April 17th

Welcome to week 16 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 17»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week:

Lee Bodecker

One-Shots:

Rough Love by @ladyfallonavenger » Lee Bodecker x Reader — Lee wakes to his wife getting ready for the day. This work is inspired by the song Poker Face by Lady Gaga. | So very hot. 🥵

I Can’t Wait To Meet You by @not-a-great-writer » Lee Bodecker x Pregnant!Reader — Request: Lee doesn’t want to leave his pregnant wife’s side. | I summarized the requested one-shot up. It’s very fluffy and domestic and sweet. I say we petition for the user name to be changed not a great writer to a fantastic writer!

(Mini) Series:

*Give In 🎡 Pt.21 🎡 Pt.22 by @not-a-great-writer » Soft!Dark!Lee Bodecker x Shy!Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | Can I just say this story is just *chefs kiss*? Lee Bodecker? *chefs kiss* Reader? *chefs kiss* It’s just all so perfect and so is the smut.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

I’m In The Water by @nsfwsebbie » Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader — He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter. | Read the tags, this is extremely dirty as well as dark, but I honestly enjoyed it. Sabrina really blew my mind with this one.

Show A Little Gratitude by @thicccsimp » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You discover a new kink with Bucky after making a bad call during a mission. | Hot, Hot, Hot 🥵

Just Wondering by @infernal-fire » soft!dark!Buck Barnes x Reader — Reader is pregnant and has some mixed feelings. | This is sort of adorable, and pregnancy hormones really come out in this.

Sunday Kinda’ Love by @msmarvelwrites » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You weren’t sure when it happened, falling in love with Bucky Barnes. | Brontë is such an amazing writer who wrote something that made my heart squeal while the rest of me just thought it was really hot.

Don’t You by @pagesoflauren » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky sees you for the first time after breaking up with you. | Taylor Swift and Bucky Barnes what more could you ask for in life?

(Mini) Series:

Just Like Dad 💋 Pt.2 by @ladyfallonavenger » Bucky Barnes x Reader — The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge. | It’s got your angst and your fluff, everything you need for a perfect one-shot.

Sweet Dreams Pt.3 ✨ Pt.1 ✨ Pt.2 by @jedimastermelkor » Bucky Barnes x Reader; Mystery Avenger x Reader — Your daily routine involves waking up in the morning, going to work and sulking at night. But then you meet the man you’ve fantasized about for your entire life, Bucky Barnes. At the same time, you’ve caught someone else’s eye and his first step in winning you over is to cook you breakfast. But will you be welcoming of that person’s affections? | You can tell Bucky really likes the reader in this and the reader has a crush on Bucky. Now you add Peter who you know has a crush on the reader. It's sort of adorable. I highly recommend it. It will keep you at the edge of your seat and your jaw hitting the floor a couple of times along the way.

Stucky

(Mini) Series:

The Miracle Pt.3 ✨ Pt.1 ✨Pt.2 by @heavenhatesme » Soft!Dark!Stucky x Reader — When infertility threatens mankind with extinction and there hasn’t been a baby for almost 18 years, what happens when two certain super soldiers fall for the same woman and accidentally impregnate her? | Heed the tags folks. I want to call them soft!dark, but they are pretty dark, but it’s up to you the reader to decide. The smut in this is great, and the storyline just as good, it also pulls on your heartstrings.

Vampires Will Never Hurt You by @missgraceomalley » Steve Rogers x Darcy Lewis; Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis; Steve Rogers x Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes — Darcy's been hiding something and Steve can't pin what it is. Can the serum help him? Or will he be compelled away? (AO3)| I love stories that take you on twist and turns, I also love vampires, add in Damon Salvatore plus the two Super Soldiers? You make me very happy!

*Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Mob!Steve x Reader, Mob!Bucky x Reader / Eventual Mob!Stucky x Reader — Childhood friends pulled apart by a move and a rivalry between families, will a shared promise of ‘till the end of the line’ be enough to keep them together. Or will a deal struck up gone wrong, and an indecisiveness to choose who your heart loves be the ‘end of the line.’ | I spent my Saturday morning re-reading this and loving every part and wishing for more. @world-of-aus is such a fantastic writer that doesn’t get enough recognition in my list.

Steve Rogers

(Mini) Series:

*His Koala Bear by @kinanabinks » Dark!Steve Rogers x Innocent!Reader — You and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it’s getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it. | Prepare for the emotional roller coaster this story is going to take you on and to change your underwear or perhaps to take a cold shower, maybe both.

*Lipstick and Crayons 🖍 Pt.5 by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Mob!Steve Rogers x Single Mom!Reader — Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob. | This story makes you feel like you are watching a Dark!Mob Romantic movie staring Steve Rogers. It’s just that good and I love it.

Ransom Drysdale

One-Shots:

Sugar by @chrissquares » Ransom Drysdale x Reader — Reader sees Ransom in his glasses for the first time. | Let’s be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing Ransom in his glasses more often, especially if he looked like that.

(Mini) Series:

Stolen What’s Mine Pt.1 by @wanderinglunarnights » Ransom Drysdale x OFC!Charlotte Callahan — Charlotte and Ransom are up for the same promotion at the publishing house. She hates his handsome ass, especially when he steals the job as editor in chief out from under her nose. | Charlotte is sassy and she isn’t going to take any of Ransom’s nonsense, I love it! You can tell it’s going to be a good one!

Andy Barber

One-Shots:

I’ll Be Here by @candlefics » Andy Barber x Reader — Jacob grew up with you around. What happens when he’s convicted of murder, and his family falls apart? What will your relationship with Andy turn into? | I like this take on a show I have still yet to watch. It was sweet and emotional, a must read in my book.

(Mini) Series:

*Moment’s Silence Pt.3 🥞 Pt.1 🥞 Pt.2 by @syntheticavenger » Frank Adler x Reader; Andy Barber x Reader — The tumultuous relationship between twin brothers Frank and Andy takes a turn for the worse when Andy offers to wipe out Frank’s debt by asking for the one thing Andy wants that Frank has. | This story has me wanting to bite my nails in anticipation even though I can’t. So freaking good!

Misc.

Drabbles:

Good Behavior by @syntheticavenger » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader; Soft Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — Andy’s special delivery arrives with a familiar face. | This is hot in a way you wouldn’t expect it to be, and I’m sort of wishing for a part 2.

One-Shots:

*Distractions by @rebelwrites » Jax Teller x Reader — I requested “Can you please put a shirt on?” | Let me just say this prompt was just so well written and it put a smile on my face. I would welcome Jax as a distraction any day, as long as he threw one of his signature panty dropping smiles my way.

Seal Team

One-Shot:

I’m Not Good Enough by @rebelwrites » Sonny Quinn x Reader — “So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me?” | This broke my heart than it fixed it. 💗

No Damsel In Distress by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — #3 and #13 for Clay Spenser. “Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!” And “How is my wife more badass than me?” | So hilarious and badass.

You Aren’t Allowed To Be Sick by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — “What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime!” | Clay can buy me flowers and take care of me any day.

[jasmine-tea-latte]

(Some of) My Favorite Zutara fics

Warning, looong post ahead!

Zutara Fanworks Appreciation Week snuck up on me, so sadly I haven’t had time to properly contribute anything. I’d love to participate next year or maybe even before then (I play by my own rules, folks!)

Still, though. I wanted to at the very least pay tribute to some of my all-time favorite Zutara fanfics that I’ve enjoyed and have inspired me over the years.

(Click here for my post on Self-Love Saturday, where I shamelessly promote my series The Phoenix and the Dragon and share a bit of backstory behind how it came to be in the first place.)

I’ve shipped Zutara ever since Fall 2006, and I have been fortunate to read so many excellent fanfics since then.

Some have made me laugh, others made me sob, others straight up made my heart burn like it was shot full of lightning:

So in honor of @zkfanworkweek​, below are 13 of my favorite Zutara fanfics, in no particular order:

~*~*~

Rated G(eneral)/T(een)

Engulfed by Luaburachid

Zuko finds himself engulfed by love.

A sweet one-shot of our favorite firebender discovering how deep his feelings are for a certain waterbender. It’s just pure fluff and always brings a smile to my face.

 we hold our hearts in silence by psychedelic_aya

Seventy years later, Korra tries to figure out Zuko and Katara.

Oh, this one is so bittersweet but oh so good. It alternates between flashbacks and Korra’s POV watching an older Zuko and Katara interact. Just… ugh. My heart.

 Day 6: Found by SooperSara

When Sokka comes up with an idea to get rid of Joo Dee, Katara finds herself in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se with a tea server she did not expect to meet.

I love a good Jasmine Dragon AU where Katara / the Gaang actually interacts with Zuko while he’s undercover as Lee from the tea shop instead of what happened in “The Guru.” This is so much fun to read, and my only complaint is that it’s not longer.

 Celestial by SooperSara

An unexpected dip into the koi pond at the North Pole brings Zuko in contact with the spirits and grants him insight to his destiny. A destiny he isn’t sure he wants.

Another by the talented SooperSara! Actually, you should check out all of her stuff. It’s all so good, and I absolutely adore this one. It’s pretty canon-compliant and the ending… oh, the ending makes me tearbend. Ma’am, I’m still weepy.

 this little fuse we lit made something in you by SecondStarOnTheLeft

There's a secret door in the wall of Katara's room. Things go a little further than planned, once she opens it.

What happens when Katara discovers a secret tunnel (secret, secret, secret tunnel, yeah!) that leads directly to the Fire Lord’s bedroom? Reading this fic is like settling down to drink a hot cup of Iroh’s tea – it’s soothing, sweet, and thoroughly warms the soul.  

 Dancing in the Dark by damagectrl

Post-Season 2 AU: While in Ba Sing Se, Katara and Toph hear a rumor about two tea servers in the lower tiers of Ba Sing Se and sneak away go to investigate only to have their suspicions confirmed. On her personal time, Katara tries to teach herself to dance and fails so badly, a masked man takes pity on her to try to help.

This is one most OGs will probably remember. It’s also one of the first ZK fics I ever read, back when I was a wee lil bb Zutarian! It was originally posted in Oct. 2006 and takes place between “Appa’s Lost Days” and “Lake Laogai.” One of my all-time favorite Bluetara AND Jasmine Dragon AUs. Heck, all of damagectrl’s works are fantastic reads, for that matter. I highly recommend checking them out, especially this classic.

 such selfish prayers by andromeda3116

Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

There’s a reason why this fic is one of the highest rated on AO3, if not THE highest. It does right by Katara and gives her the ending she deserves. 10/10 would recommend.

 better than things dreamed of in the forest by catie_writes_things (SERIES)

As a child, Bumi knew: his mother was a waterbender, his father was an airbender, and he was a firebender. Something about these facts did not add up, but it would take him a long time to understand.

Hands down, one of the most heartbreaking fics / series I’ve ever read. The author describes this as the adultery fic for people who hate adultery fics, and it certainly packs an emotional punch in the gut. Personally, I’m not one for the “Zuko and Katara have an affair while she’s with Aang” fics in general, but this one examines the fallout caused by a single night of passion and all of the consequences that stem from it, especially how the ripple effect of their choices impacts everyone. Even though it breaks my heart all over again every time I reread it, I can’t recommend it highly enough. 

  ~*~*~

(More fics, several with high ratings, are listed below the cut)

Rated M(ature)/E(xplicit)

Moonlight and Sunshadow by GrapefruitTwostep

The dragon offered Katara a deal: protection for her family and tribe if she lived with it for a year and a day. And she said yes. Because what other way was there to save her people? But there was more to the dragon than Katara bargained for. An "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" retelling.

A fairy tale AU in which Zuko is cursed to live as a dragon and Katara is certainly no damsel in distress. You’ve probably heard some version of the original fairy tale before that this fic is inspired by, and it’s such a delight to read.

 The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama

Katara grew up in the Southern Water Tribe under the tutelage of Hama, the only waterbender ever to have escaped Fire Nation captivity. When Zuko arrives at the South Pole, seeking the Avatar, they are more than ready to defend him. Then one day, the Southern Water Tribe receives a petition for peace, and a proposal of marriage.

One of the best arranged marriage AUs I’ve come across. Iroh is crowned Fire Lord after defeating Ozai, and Katara must find some way to peacefully coexist with her hotheaded new husband as she also finds a place for herself in the Fire Nation.

 Confused by thispieceofwork

Zuko stood. "You told Aang you were confused. Are you confused because of me?" Katara was silent, arms crossed in front of her. "Don't make me answer that."

Starts during “The Ember Island Players” where Zuko overhears Aang and Katara’s private conversation on the balcony. This is another fic that will shatter your heart into a million pieces but it’s oh so worth it in the end.

 A Heated Exchange by Smediterranea (SERIES)

Katara had not considered herself to be someone who would have earth-shattering sex with a guy whose name she didn’t even know. But here she was, certain that she had never made a better decision in her life.

An AU two-part series of Katara getting familiar with a certain handsome guy who lives down the hall in her college dorm. It’s funny, cute, and cuddling while watching Planet Earth has never been hotter.

 Bonus day: Tea Shop by cincilin

"Hello and welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Today's special is—" he cut himself of with a sharp intake of breath, at the same moment that Katara placed the voice and looked up.

'He has hair.' was her first thought. Then the rest of her brain caught up with her and she started to get up, sending Momo scrambling to hide under the table. Season 2 AU, during "The Guru."

I told y’all, I *LOVE* a good Jasmine Dragon AU fic, and this one-shot checks all the boxes: heart-to-heart conversations? Witty dialogue and banter? Bending match that turns into a makeout and something steamier? It’s got it all.

~*~*~

This was only going to be a list of maybe 5-7fic recs, but well… oops. I also kept the above list to completed works only, just because this post is already long enough.

Several of my other favorites that get honorable mention include:

Thinking Out Loud (WIP)

The Summit (WIP)

Sparrowkeet (Series)

Purr

The Nature of the Blue Spirit

Rhythm of the Rain

Fault Lines

Clarity

Seriously, there are just SO MANY good Zutara fics out there. I had to cut myself off from adding even more, because I could go on and on and on. Much like Admiral Zhao, I have no. self. control. 

I love you all, my fellow Zutarians ❤️💙💜 Mwah! Happy ZFAW! 

[lilfellasblog]

‘Cause If We’re Talking Bodies (You’ve Got a Perfect One) P.1 - Patton’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: Patton loves his boyfriends so much!! He just wish he had more to offer.

OML I accidentally missed Patton’s Name Reveal Day by two months!!! Patton, I’m so sorry, I love you and you deserve better! Here’s a little fic for you!! This first chapter turned into plot by accident, and the second half is just smut. Slightly kinky, sweet smut. That’s it. Enjoy the plot while it lasts! :3

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Body insecurity, kissing, mentions of sex, negative self-talk, crying, and LAMP sex almost happens in this chapter. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 2424

Part 2 here!

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Patton stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was the Side that encompasses Thomas’ eating habits, and they could honestly use some work. Last night, he’d devoured half a pizza and several Krispy Kreme donuts for dinner, and looked at the raw cookie dough in the fridge as a late-night snack.

It’s all your fault he feels bad about his eating and his body. Just look at you!

Patton’s eyes burned as he took in his appearance. Stretch marks decorated the sides of his stomach and thighs, and his stomach was definitely rounded. His arms were chubby, and his thighs chafed if he didn’t make sure his pants were securely belted up. He’d even slept wrong, and now his shoulder hurts!

He’d had to comfort Thomas while editing the latest Awkward Adventures video about going into a sensory deprivation tank. When the time came to edit Thomas’ reaction to the experience, they’d both broken down into tears. Patton stuffed his feelings down quickly so he could rise up and comfort Thomas. Thomas ended up deciding to not show his body at all.

Patton hugged his middle as he allowed himself his pre-breakfast cry. Soon, too soon, his alarm went off. Time to get breakfast ready!

Patton cleaned up his face in his bathroom and threw on his day clothes. They were so tight, he hated how tight they were, they left red marks on his body where the hems and elastic dug in. He used to wear his clothes looser, but then he’d gotten into a relationship with the other three core Sides over a year ago. They deserved someone with a better body. Despite his lingering sadness, he smiled at the memory. It had been Logan to confess one morning that he was in love with them and that repressing those feelings was causing him significant enough distress to impair his functioning. Patton and Roman had quickly confessed after that, followed by a soft, shy admission from Virgil.

His phone brought him back out of his thoughts. Oh rats, I’m late!! Stupid, airhead Patton! Can’t do anything right!! Patton sniffled back tears as he bolted from his room and downstairs. Thankfully, no one was up yet. He quickly started a pot of coffee and grabbed pancake mix.

Blueberries or chocolate chip? Blueberries or chocolate chip? Come ON Patton, make up your mind!

Patton grabbed the chocolate chips and folded them in with the pancake batter. He quickly grabbed some breakfast sausages and eggs, started heating up the breakfast sausages, and started scrambling the eggs. Once he had the eggs going at a low enough temperature with butter and milk, he started scooping pancakes onto a flat griddle. Careful to watch the pancakes, he whipped the eggs so they were aerated and fluffy, then just as they were almost done, he seasoned them with paprika, a pinch of salt, some pepper, and a bit of garlic. He switched between the eggs and pancakes, and soon he had a large pile of both ready.

Patton quickly set the table as he heard the other three Sides come down the stairs. Come on, this is the LEAST you can do for forcing them to be in a relationship with you, you disgusting-

“Hey Pat, smells great,” Virgil mumbled as he walked in.

“Well thanks kiddo! I do my best!” Patton chirped. Virgil grunted in acknowledgment and sleepily filled his mug with coffee. Patton tried to not let his heart break. He’s just tired, I know Virgil loves my cooking!

Maybe he would if you weren’t trying to get him as fat as you.

I”m not!

Oh? Is that why you put butter in the eggs? And chocolate chips in the pancakes? This entire meal is unhealthy, and you couldn’t even manage to swap out candy for fruit? No wonder they barely tolerate you.

Patton bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t show any negative emotion. Logan and Roman entered the kitchen moments later.

“Salu-”

“GREETINGS WONDERFUL CITIZENS!!”

“-tations,” Logan finished dryly.

Patton forced a giggle. “Greetings and salutations to you too!”

Logan sent him a rare smile, one that made Patton question all over again why they were with him. Logan was the embodiment of the sexy professor and had a firm runner’s body, Virgil was edgy with an undercurrent of sweet that made his lithe body move in the filthiest of ways, and Roman… dear god, Roman was built like a hero prince. A single glance from any of them could make him swoon, and what did Patton have to offer? And unattractive, misshapen, chubby body. The least he could do was cook for them, and don’t get him wrong, he loved cooking! But he could never seem to do it right. It was never healthy enough, elegant enough, complex enough. Patton spent hours every day crying, trying to brace himself as best he could for the inevitable break up, where he’d be the singleton and the other three would finally be in a happy relationship. He didn’t want his heartbreak to affect Thomas too much.

“Ah, pancakes! In a chocolate chip mood, my perfect Patton?”

The unexpected comment caused Patton to burst into tears. He sees what you’re doing, he sees how gross you are, how you’re-

A hand started gently rubbing his back. “Shhhhh, Patton dear, tell us what’s wrong,” Logan soothed.

Patton sniffled in a weak attempt to stop his crying. I can’t tell them! “I j-just love you all s-so m-m-much a-and I have a l-lot of f-f-feelings!”

There! I didn’t lie!

Lie of omission.

Patton cried harder at failing his job as Morality. Some Side you are. Thomas would be better off without you. They’d all be better off without you. Roman came over and threaded his fingers into Patton’s hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Oh darling, goodness gracious,” Logan chuckled, “I love you too.”

Sounds of agreement came from around the kitchen, but the lies only made Patton more upset. Look at how much they have to lie just to not set you off!

“I-I’m sorry guys,” Patton whimpered, “I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry I get so,” Patton’s bottom lip quivered as he sniffled, “emotional,” he finished in a broken voice.

“My sweet angel, that is one of the reasons we love you!” Roman declared.

Patton looked up in disbelief. “R-really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Virgil said as he came over and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. Patton winced at Virgil having to feel his fat.

“O-oh.”

The hand on his back stopped moving. “Sweetheart, do you think we dislike your displays of emotions?”

“Y-yes? I know they can be a lot…” And I don’t even have a good body to offer you.

To his surprise, Virgil dove in and practically tackle-hugged Patton. Patton flinched when he felt Virgil’s arms go around his belly.

“Patton, we love you. Goddammit, I fucking hate myself,” Virgil shook his head, “Sorry. I just, what did I do to make you think that?”

Patton awkwardly draped an arm over Virgil’s back. “Nothing! You didn’t do anything kiddo!”

“Was it Logan or I?” Roman asked as he moved his hand from Patton’s hair to underneath his chin.

“No! You guys are fine, you didn’t do anything wrong!”

Logan kissed the top of Patton’s head. “Know that we love you, including your emotions. Let us eat. Food can help improve mood, particularly after a full night’s sleep.”

“You’re so smart Lo!”

“Thank you.”

Roman and Logan returned to their seats while Virgil pulled up and gave Patton a kiss. “I love you too Pat.”

“Love ya kiddo,” Patton said quietly as he stared into Virgil’s eyes. Virgil smiled, gave Patton one last kiss, and sat back down. Breakfast passed normally, the Sides chatting about Thomas’ upcoming week, and Patton trying to control his thoughts enough so he could pay attention. Once breakfast wrapped up, everybody helped clean and put dishes away.

Patton expected everyone to go back to their rooms after that, but Roman came up next to Patton, put his hand on Patton’s lower back, and kissed the top of his head. He started moving his hand in little up and down motions, so his pinky finger was just above Patton’s belt.

“I would like to show you how much I love you. Would you be amenable to that sunshine?” Roman rumbled.

Patton shivered at Roman’s tone and the idea of having to be naked around him. They’d had sex plenty of times, but only when Patton had a better self-image day. Come on Patton, you stressed them all out right at the beginning of the day! Get them in a better mood!

“That sounds great!” Patton lied.

Roman chuckled darkly. “Wonderful. From Logan and Virgil’s faces, it would seem they would like to join us. Is that something you’d like as well?“

Oh jeepers, they’re all going to see me! “It’ll be a party!”

Roman chuckled again and pulled Patton against him, kissing him deeply. “Shall we go to my room? I believe my bed is the only one large enough to accommodate all of us.”

“Sure!”

Roman kissed Patton again. Patton reciprocated as best he could, and then he was being gently led up the stairs.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…

The door opened to Roman’s room, and Logan dragged him in, meeting him in a filthy kiss.

I can’t do this.

Patton whimpered and pulled back, hiding his face in Logan’s chest. Logan froze, then wrapped his arms gently around Patton’s back.

“Dearest? What’s wrong?”

Patton opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to him. He just pressed into Logan’s chest further.

“Do you want to stop?”

Patton hated himself for it, but he nodded his head with another whimper. He started sniffling and his breath began to hitch. Logan pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Patton’s head and rubbed the back of Patton’s neck.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay darling.”

Roman came over to put a hand on his back. Patton smelled cinnamon and roses. “It’s alright love. It’s okay, I promise.”

He sensed Virgil approach but stop, unsure. Patton took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to, I do, I love you guys, and god you’re all so attractive, it’s just…”

Roman shifted next to him. “My sweet, you don’t have to say yes just because I asked. Have you…” he trailed off.

Patton couldn’t let his prince think that! “No! I promise, I’m sorry. You’re all so hot, and I’m…” Patton’s voice broke. “Not.”

Virgil spoke up from behind him. “If you talk bad about yourself I’m going to physically fight you!”

Patton giggled through his tears.

“Darling, I can assure you we find you quite attractive,” Logan purred.

Patton looked up at Logan. “Really? You do?”

Logan’s eyes darkened as his gaze bored into Patton’s eyes. “Very much so,” he nearly growled.

Patton blushed hotly at the tone while Roman chuckled and leaned over to whisper in Patton’s ear. “I can assure you, I share the same sentiments as Logan.”

“Holy shit Pat, me too. You really don’t know you’re hot as fuck?”

“Language.”

“English.”

Patton turned around to level a disapproving stare at Virgil, who just smirked that damnable smirk of his. Patton was worried his glasses were about to melt off his face from the heat.

“Let’s go downstairs. I believe a conversation may be long overdue.”

Patton bit the inside of his cheek again, terrified as to what Logan was talking about. He followed them downstairs and couldn’t stop himself from leaning against Logan on the couch. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton and kissed his temple. Patton giggled lightly. It was the small gestures Logan did that reminded Patton what a big softie he really was.

Once everyone was settled, Logan began speaking. “Patton, love, are you insecure about your body?”

Patton tensed and looked down. “Maybe a little…”

He heard Roman about to jump into a dramatic monologue, but Logan gently raised his hand to stop him. Roman settled back with a small huff.

“How long have you been feeling this way love?”

Patton pressed into Logan’s side. “Well, I guess I’ve always known I wasn’t as… attractive as you guys, but I started feeling bad about it when we started dating. I’ve got the worst body out of all of you, and now you have to be with me when you all are so dreamy? It’s not fair to you guys!”

Noises of protest came from the other side of the couch before Logan raised his hand again. “My dear, do you think we’d sleep with you if we didn’t want to?”

Patton brought his legs up. “I don’t know… you could always pretend…”

“I find your body very appealing.”

“As do I.”

“Pat, you’re fucking hot.”

“Virgil. Language.”

“Still English.”

Patton decided to let it slide at the amused puff of air he felt from Logan.

“Darling, I know that our reassurances are hardly enough to change your mind, but I they give you some peace. I believe that Roman can conjure Dr. Picani in the Imagination. Would you like to go see him to talk further about your body image? You do not have to if it would make you uncomfortable.”

Patton sighed. “That might not be a terrible idea. I’m sorry for bringing you guys down.”

Virgil interjected. “Pat. I Will. Physically fight you.”

Patton giggled at the running joke.

“Why don’t we have Thomas watch some Parks and Rec? I think a mental health break may be in order.”

Patton smiled up at Logan. “That sounds like fun!”

Logan smiled back down. “Wonderful. I’ll go grab some snacks. Roman, if you would?”

Patton was confused until Roman pulled Patton into his lap. They both laughed as they fell slightly to the side.

“I love you, my sweet angel.”

Patton felt something in his chest unclench and thaw. “I love you to.” He bit his lip and looked down. “You really find me attractive? You’re so…”

Roman smirked. “Dashing? Noble? Handsome? Breath-taking?”

Virgil grinned. “Pretentious?”

Roman let out a series of high-pitched scoffs as Patton giggled. I gotta admit, being held by a dashing prince is pretty nice!

Logan came back with the snacks. Virgil scooted over and put Patton’s legs over his own. Logan sat on the other side of Roman and pressed against Patton’s back.

Later, they’d show Patton just how much they appreciated his body.

[chapitre7]

Endeavor

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Fantasy AU

Loosely inspired by Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions

Characterization is based on the drama, since that's the version of the title I've consumed (along with fanon)

Read on AO3

He can sense the apprehension in his fellow travelers on their footsteps. He grins, a little sympathetic, a little mean, flashing it at them over his shoulder.

 “According to the rumors, it should be just a little further ahead.”

 They’re young, not having yet learned the art of hiding their thoughts and emotions displaying so easily on their faces, exchanging an entire conversation with their eyes. The grin turns into a grimace as he faces forward, hand hovering but not touching the hilt of the sword by his hip.

 It’s a decadent place. He’s a paradox of hope and rejection, the one he wants to meet needs to be there as much as he shouldn’t be there, in that black smudge of reality. It’s not a place, not really, only curtains eaten up by moths, floorboards bent by humidity, roof half blown away by storms. Yet the door opens and he sees him walking out that wretched, misplaced space, illuminated by the torches and by the moonlight, clothes and armor still shining as bright as they had a whole lifetime ago, when they were different men, who could speak with their eyes. His heart feels small in his chest, constricted, desperate to die before this meeting can be realized.

What have I done to you?

 “Light-Bearing Lord,” he greets, enough self-hatred in every word for the two of them.

 “Yiling Patriarch,” is the appropriate response, razor-sharp, and his wish might have been fulfilled, in the end. He doesn’t think he breathes until he’s laughing, empty and loud.

 “These young men and I have been hired for a tricky job.” He waves his hand in the direction of the warriors behind him, wide-eyed children, mesmerized by the man who defies the darkness of the night. “What says you, Light-Bearing Lord, of assisting us in defeating a foul creature that has killed many an honorable man and terrorized their wives and children?”

 The rumors did Lan Wangji no justice. The whispering tavernmen spoke of the fallen noble like he was a witch, hiding away in the woods and dissecting beasts with his dark arts, making friends with the spirits of the dead for revenge against the sect that threw him out when he was the best of them. It was supposed to be me, was all Wei Wuxian could think about. He was the one who had been excommunicated and vowed to kill the vile and the corrupt. He spent years in the solitude of meaningless battles, but when he heard the rumors that the Light-Bearing Lord was back, the mercenary used his talent in lies that he had perfected over the years to guide his awkward entourage there because he had to see him, sword burning against his side with shame and regret. He may have come up with a plan on the way there, but whatever it had been escapes him as Lan Wangji looks barely any different from when they had last seen each other. He’s thinner, bone structure sharp, casting shadows on his cheeks, but he has nothing of witch. His eyes are clear, so clear, deep waters that carry nothing but the truth in their current.

 “Where?” says the white-clad man, startling the mercenary out of his reverie. Whatever uncontrollable emotion that flashes in his own eyes causes his companions to swallow their fear down their throats. They had agreed to fight alongside the Yiling Patriarch, but both the heretics? They might as well die by lightning strike, punished by the heavens.

 “I’ll lead the way.”

 And Wei Wuxian leads, ice-white sword in his hands, unworthy of every success, of every glance he sends in Lan Wangji’s way, well on his way when the sun is not even out in the sky, in the dark where he belongs.

 ***

 “A water monster? I know an expert.”

 Time and time again Wei Wuxian guides them through the woods. How was it that the rumors of the Lan witch followed him wherever he went? He could have lived without ever seeing him again —

 (Maybe not a life but an existence, one day after the other and another after that, dreaming of times long past.)

 — but he’s a guidebook of excuses to seek his aide and presence in every single job. He braves through every angry stare, every silence in return to his attempts at conversation, because if nothing else he’s known for his bravery. Was he not the man who challenged the nobles who tried to steal the ancient knowledge of the Yiling folk to gain power over every kingdom and every piece of land? Was he not the one who stood in the throne room and pointed his sword at the Emperor, god among men, corrupted with dark magic?

 He’s lucky he’s alone that night, when he finds the Light-Bearing Lord bathing in a river. He would have fought every one of his allies to keep it to himself, that silhouette against the water mirror, black hair like silk falling down his broad, pale back. They had once slept in the same dormitories, whispering insecurities to each other when no one else could hear. He was once mesmerized by the fluid, dance-like movements of his swordsmanship, admired his excellence at the Academy’s teachings, desperate to have a place next to him in History books. What a pair they would have made, instinct and intellect, reckless and calculating, heart and mind. Be careful what you wish for, any fortuneteller could have told him, if only he had bothered to listen.

 Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he makes any sound, but Lan Wangji turns in his direction anyway, bared, but never vulnerable.

 “Hello, again,” he greets, waving a hand, and Wangji says nothing, betrays nothing.

 He wants to break the ice between them, but he’s too scared of burning down the bridge of their fragile connection. He sticks to killing monsters; takes whatever he can get.

 ***

 “You can’t defeat a dragon on your own,” he had told the men gathered at the tavern. He’s both hated and respected for his arrogance, long experienced in the art of faking confidence when everybody else’s had failed. It’s led him to more than one helpless situation, and as fate would have it, the moment he spoke those words, he doomed himself.

 He wants to go back to the tavern, drink their cheapest and rarest liquors at once, fall unconscious for a full day before taking another meaningless job. He wants to take his little pouch of gold back to Yiling, as he should have done days before, so the village leader can use it for more provisions and seeds and maybe even a small party, since there was enough to spare. He wants anything else than to be closed off in a cavern with a burned Lan Wangji, hiding from an angry and hungry dragon.

 “They’ll come back soon,” he says, hoping he can convince the other better than he convinces himself.

 “They won’t,” Lan Wangji replies swiftly, and Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue.

 “Then we only need to make it through the night. We’ll patch you up and kill it once you’ve recovered.”

 “We’re not going to kill it.”

 Wei Wuxian looks at him like he’s lost the last of his sanity.

 “What do you suppose we do to a dragon who’s been burning off villages? Pray into his good graces?”

 It’s cruel, to mock Wangji’s past convictions, but there’s no place for offense in the witch’s sweaty brow and tired eyes. However, no matter how far he had fallen, there’s still a fire in the man, burning behind his irises, stronger than Wei Wuxian’s outrage had ever been. He believes him then, before he even speaks, but he speaks anyway.

 “She’s distressed. She only needs to be reassured that nobody is going to harm her, and then she’ll keep her distance, as she’s done all these years.”

 Wangji takes a shallow breath and Wei Wuxian hurries to him, touching his unmarred side, supporting Wangji’s weight when he suddenly gives in against his shoulder. He freezes with Wangji’s breath against his exposed neck and the man’s hand that clutches the fabric of his clothes.

 “Do you regard me so lowly now, to detest my very presence?”

 Wangji’s voice is a whisper but his words are a push closer to the edge of a cliff Wei Wuxian has been hanging by for ages.

 “Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I?” His voice is a pitch higher with his lie, and Wangji’s nose touches his neck, falling deeper, deeper into him. He can certainly feel the way Wei Wuxian swallows.

 “If only because there’s no other option, and still you seem to contemplate your luck with the dragon.”

 He feels the fluttering of Wangji’s eyelashes and holds back a whimper. The man is burning up and Wei Wuxian knows that, if he so wanted, he could use Wei Wuxian’s spiritual power to heal himself, he’s skilled enough in magic to do so. Without a sword to wield, what was there for Wangji to brandish, if not the magic weaker men couldn’t hope to control?

 Wei Wuxian feels colder then, despite the physical contact with Wangji’s feverish skin. He laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

 “You can’t fault me. We could have met in better circumstances,” he says, feeling the immediate huff of air that Wangji lets out.

 “Could we?”

 Wei Wuxian wets his lips. I spent years avoiding you, desperate to see you again, he wants to say. I’m not worthy of your friendship, there’s nothing else I want more.

 I want you and I want you to want me, but what is left of us to give? We’re hubris, remains of the consequences of our actions, but still, you...

 “You don’t want to meet me, Lan Zhan,” he says, meaning shouldn’t, meaning mustn’t, the man’s birth name falling from his lips as easily as he kills, easier, much easier than waking up to greet the world every morning; easy as breathing. Wangji’s — Lan Zhan’s — head rises from its spot on his chest, back away only enough to look at his face. In the campfire he sees everything; his pain, his fever, and the gleam of tears in his eyes. Wangji lowers his eyes.

 “Every time you leave is as painful as when you disappeared then, Jin Guangyao’s blood still fresh in our hands.”

 His grip loosens on Wuxian’s clothes and Wuxian takes that hand in his. The hand that protected him, when the emperor had gotten the best of him, his royal sword licking against Wei Wuxian’s neck. Yet Wangji, perfectly composed, the golden child of Lan, had killed him, for Wei Wuxian, had pierced the head of Jin Guangyao with Bichen, sealing the revolution that shook the land. The sword was a certainty in every tale, but the one who wielded it, if Wei Wuxian, if Lan Wangji, was a secret only the two of them knew. And Wuxian carried Bichen with him, to spread rumors, to take the world off Lan Wangji’s shoulder, because he was bright and he was good and he hadn’t used underhand means to take the emperor down, hadn’t lied his way into the royal guard to cleanse the kingdom of its curse. It was supposed to be his burden, so Wangji should speak not of pain, he should be... He should feel...

 “We’re from different worlds. You deserve better than what I can give you.”

 Nothing but a low life, with no glory, just infamy.

 “Do you suppose I could have acted differently?”

 Wangji’s hand falls from his, eyes hide behind the curtain of his hair.

 “Do you think us so different that I would have stayed still when my family did nothing in the face of injustice?”

 The wizard leans back, eyes focused on the fire, and Wuxian has never felt him so distant. Even in the aftermath of Jin Guangyao’s death, before he lost consciousness, Wangji had held him, hadn’t he? He had forgotten. Wangji had held him and Wuxian could have sworn he had comforted him, speaking reassuring words in his ears, over and over again, even though he had never been much of a talker.

 “Wei Ying,” he says, and his face betrays nothing, though the name says everything. “Am I still such a stranger to you?”

 Wei Wuxian gives in. He pulls the injured man back against him, shifting his position so his back leans against the hard wall and Wangji leans against his chest. His arms cover both Wangji’s healthy and injured ones, and his hands guide Wangji’s hands, fingers intertwined, to cross against his middle. Wangji winces and whimpers, but Wuxian hushes him, mouth right next to his ear, and says, “You can use my energy to heal. Use as much as you need.”

 Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, hoping that, if his words really had power, that he could really will their meeting to happen at different circumstances. If the dragon doesn’t kill them, if Wangji isn’t injured beyond recovery, he wants to tell him that he wants to stay, that he wants to hear his singing voice again as he did once, when they weren’t men, just tall children pretending to fight, looking at the stars and talking about missing a time when they weren’t at war. Lan Zhan had told him one of his ancestors sang her victory into the battlefield, and he had sung, and Wei Ying had been defeated, right there. Surrendered, hopelessly putting his heart in the hands of someone who would never betray him.

 ***

 There’s a whistling sound when he wakes up. The fire has long died out, and Lan Wangji is nowhere to be seen, but he hears it. Not too far into the maze of tunnels of the dragon’s lair, there’s a song. His heart is at his throat as he gets up, stumbles then tries his footing again, running as fast as his drained body lets him. We’re not going to kill it, Wangji had said, and he’s crazy, absolutely crazy to face a dragon without recovering properly, and Wuxian is not sure how much of his recklessness is his own and how much is a terrible influence of the Yiling Patriarch.

 (Could they be so easily separated?)

 He sees him with a leaf over his lips, whistling one of the melodies from the Song of Clarity of the Lan family. Wuxian was the one who taught him how to use a leaf as a makeshift instrument and if Wangji had died right then, remorse would have finally killed him.

 But the man doesn’t die. He walks calmly, his free hand reaching out to touch the creature’s scales, to feel its warm breath as its head lowers, nuzzling him like he’s one of its babies. Wei Wuxian still feels like death is going to take him over, both of them, at any second, but when Wangji turns to him, his left side completely healed and a tired smile on his face, he thinks this is the rebirth he had been waiting for.

 “It’s not going to be a problem anymore,” Wangji declares and Wuxian allows himself to fall on his knees, ecstatic and exhausted.

 ***

 The celebrations last until dark. They don’t take any money for the job, considering how poor the villagers are after losing so much to the dragon’s rage, but accept the food and liquor and thanks they are willing to give. Wuxian loses sight of Wangji halfway through the party, and he might have panicked if not for the conversation he keeps replaying in his head. Does he detest Wangji’s presence? No. Is every departure as painful as the first, all those years ago? Yes. Yes, and yes, and yes.

 He finds him whistling on a leaf again, in the woods. They call Lan Wangji a witch but his Lan Zhan is more like a faerie, easily capturing the moonlight in the white of his robes, ready to take him away with a glance, a gesture, the tilt of his head when he notices him approach.

 Wuxian brushes his knuckles against his left cheek and Wangji stops playing, almost imperceptibly leaning into his touch.

 “Are you okay?”

 He hums, and Wuxian is pleased to feel it under his touch.

 “It wasn’t bad. Your energy was enough.”

 “You should still rest. And we should gather some medicinal herbs tomorrow, before parting.”

 “We?”

 “Ah.”

 Wuxian drops his hand and his head, fully conscious that Wangji can see the redness creeping up his neck and into his face. Sometimes his thoughts act so fast that he forgets he had not yet said the things he meant to say.

 “I was thinking... Do you want to go to Yiling with me? I haven’t checked on them in a while and—”

 “Yes.”

 His head snaps up and he’s enraptured by the shy smile on Wangji’s lips. It’s the same, just the same as then, like nothing bad has ever happened between them, and they’re young and free and ready to start their lives. And aren’t they still? Sometimes it’s hard to remember war didn’t make them old, just tired.

 “Great!” Wuxian lets out, and it’s too high, too embarrassed, so he stands up. “We should head to bed, then, we’ll be traveling for a while and need all the rest we can get!”

 He turns his back to his best friend but he hears it. A low, but clear, “Wei Ying.” It ripples in the silence towards him, like the liquid sound of the lake.

 “You... Still don’t know my heart?”

 He doesn’t know what to say. He’s had years to ponder, to hope, to doubt. Up until the day before he thought Lan Zhan was better off without him, that he couldn’t, shouldn’t... He still held Bichen tightly in his grasp after all those years, like a lifeline, a reminder that he would be nothing without Lan Zhan. But what could Lan Zhan be without him? Something purer, someone...

 Someone who tamed dragons using a technique he taught him. Someone who was as much as him and he was them, white Bichen both his heart and Lan Zhan’s, Lan Zhan’s anger his own, as was his revenge, his fears, his sorrow.

 Lan Zhan walks past him, saying no more, blending into the night and back to their inn. Wuxian follows a little behind, words all spent, nothing left but resolution, caution thrown to the wind. What is he if not bravery, recklessness? He’s nothing but blind, desperate certainty.

 Lan Zhan’s door isn’t locked. Neither is he asleep, eyes open, dark but clear all at once. Although his steps are sure, when he leans down, both hands cupping Lan Zhan’s face, he hesitates. Could he lose his world right there, in that moment, if he were to give in to the love of his teenage years, all admiration, all pride, every single and everlasting dream of a lifetime by his side risked in a kiss?

 Lan Zhan meets him halfway and melts away his doubts and defenses. His grip is strong, that of a warrior, and Wei Ying tries to be gentle, even though he’s a mercenary, a heretic, someone unworthy of so much warmth and adoration. And every kiss that follows, every whispered confession, every blissful breath that escapes them speaks, stay, stay, stay.

 Don’t ever let go of my heart again.

 ***

 “Ghouls?”

 The bartender looks at him curiously over his spectacles, and the mercenary who had been trying for the job glares as he approaches, black hood still partially covering his face, but not his wicked smile.

 “There’s no one better at handling ghouls than me and my partner.”

 “And who the hell might you be?”

 He lowers his hood and his long black hair and signature red ribbon seem to speak for him.

 “The Yiling Patriarch!”

 “Right, right,” he waves the mercenary off. “Now, what did you say the reward for this job was, again? Lan Zhan and I wouldn’t refuse any job to vanquish evil, no matter how small it is, but we must talk business.”

 On cue, a second man sits on the bar stool, white hood lowered to show a perfectly impassive face, as if sculpted by faeries, using the most precious jewels. He gives the mercenary a sideway glance and the man flees, bolts through the double doors of the entrance, making Wei Wuxian laugh. Did the man not hear a word he said? The Yiling Patriarch and the Light-Bearing Lord are allies of justice. If he does nothing wrong, and if the nobles and the holy planned no evil deeds, then they have nothing to fear.

 Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian share a look, each giving a lopsided smile that speaks volumes.

 “Where were we?”

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

I Remember You, Prologue

Cullen Rutherford/Female Amell Inquisitor. CANON DIVERGENT (somewhat but not as much as you’d think). Slow burn, will probably be very long. Catch it on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145420/chapters/32600628

Carrie Amell is a special mage. She’s been clairvoyant all of her life and that’s one of the reasons she’s not locked in a Tower somewhere. She has many secrets, many stories to tell, and really is beginning to hate how many traps she gets caught in. Her past will come back to haunt her as she tries to survive as THE INQUISITOR. 

           There was total darkness. She wanted to wake, but she was stuck in this… land of black. Though… there was something coming to her. Images of an explosion… The Conclave and the Temple going up in fire and ash… Someone calling her name, but she can’t place the voice… Feeling hard ground underneath her and a ringing in her ears as soldiers turned her over…

           Her eyes groggily opened. Colors were blurry, and even as she woke up more, she couldn’t make out wherever she was due to the darkness. She felt cold, hard floor under her body. She went to move her hands out from under her, only to find them in a metal brace, locked into place. She struggled to push herself up. As she moved, she felt herself gasp out in pain as a green flare of light erupted from her hand. She realized she barely heard anything; there was a ringing in her ears that dulled most of the noise-though not all. Looking around, the little light there was in the room glinted off of metallic armor… Guards. She felt a bubble of panic rising in her chest, but before she could speak the door to the room was knocked open. The sound of it hitting the wall reached her ears, which were beginning to be able to filter sound better as her magic healed their internal wounds. Two women entered, the first in higher level soldier garb and the second cloaked, her lack of footfalls betraying her more rogue nature. She eyed them warily, especially as the soldier circled her. She suddenly ripped down the prisoner’s hood. The cloaked woman’s face portrayed nothing, but her eyes were ever so slightly widened in shock.

           “Tell me why we should not kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead… Except for you.” The soldier’s voice held a thick accent, almost like that of the Free Marches, but different. Her voice was deepened from emotion, as though something were stuck in her throat. The prisoner felt the same; though it was horror she felt most of all.

           “Wh-what? No… Th-that’s not possible…” She felt tears coming to her eyes. The thought of so many lives lost… But wait. Surely, they didn’t think… “You think I did this… don’t you?” The soldier’s face contorted, and she took a tight hold of one of her forearms, the one that had a green flare come from it a moment ago.

           “Explain this.” She angrily raised it, and another green flare painfully shot from it. She threw the arm down and continued her circle around the prisoner.

           “I… can’t.” Her mind was blank on how it came to be there, only that it was painful and upon inspection, looked like a deep laceration that faintly glowed green.

           “What do you mean you can’t?!” Her voice was full of anger, and her gait told that her patience was running thin.

           “I mean I can’t explain how it got there, because I don’t know how or why it’s there!” The prisoner’s voice was distressed, both because of her predicament and the fact that truly, she hadn’t any idea where the mark came from. The angered woman grasped her by the shoulders, her grip painfully tight.

           “You’re lying!” The rogue quickly grabbed one of her arms and drug her back, her face stiff and emotionless.

           “We need her, Cassandra…” She pulled the Cassandra woman to the door, then both turned around to gaze down at the imprisoned. The woman bowed her head, shaking it softly.

           “All those people… are dead?” The rogue was suddenly in front of her, her familiar blue eyes burning into hers.

           “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Realization dawned on the prisoner: she knew who this was. Leliana, lay sister of the Chantry, Sister Nightingale, Left Hand of the Divine… and an old friend. She did not act like she knew her, though; no doubt to put less suspicion on herself… especially in the company of this ‘Cassandra’… but that is neither here nor now.

           “I remember… running. Fire and ash. Horrors chasing me, clawing at my legs… And… a woman. Bathed in green.” It was fuzzy, blurring in her mind. The images threatened to completely dissipate soon.

           “A woman?” Leliana’s voice sounded doubtful, but also… intrigued.

           “She reached out to me, but then…” She shook her head. She heard heavy footsteps, then the grasping of cloth.

           “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Rift.” Looking up, she saw Leliana backing out of the doorway, her eyes lingering dead on her. Cassandra closed the door mostly, and walked back to her, then kneeled. She began undoing the metal brace’s chains, working through the mini locks, then replacing it with a strongly tied knot. “What is your name? I do not want to have to continuously call you ‘Prisoner’. It would get old very quickly.”

           “I-I’m Carrie. Carrie Amell. What… What exactly happened?” She gripped Carrie’s arm and helped her to her feet. Her face was sorrowful, her eyes casted downward.

           “It would be… easier to show you.” She turned away and began leading the way out of the prison area’s door. Carrie reached up and tugged her hood back into place, concealing most of her face. She preferred it that way. She followed behind Cassandra, thoroughly examining the building with her eyes. It appeared to be the under area to a chantry, and as they exited to the upper floor, her thoughts were confirmed. Though it was a smaller one, it was most definitely a chantry. Soldiers and scouts were scattered among the others in the hall, and as the two approached the doors, they were swung open for them. The bright sunlight burned her eyes, and its reflection from the snow nearly blinded her. As she looked up, into the sky where others were staring, she saw a pit of swirling green and rock dipping upward, heaven bound. Green light jaggedly glowed from it, lighting the dark clouds around it eerily. Carrie felt a cold shudder go down her spine as she stared into the green void, a unique kind of terror filling her. Cassandra had taken a few steps forward, into the yard in front of the chantry, before she spoke:

           “We call it ‘The Breach’. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” She turned on her heel to look at Carrie, her mouth set into a slight frown. Her eyes burned into Carrie’s, their light brown color glittering in the light.

           “An explosion can cause… that?” She felt a need to disbelieve this, a need to not believe a word this woman said. That would make this all too real; this would mean she should be dead with the rest of them. Not alive, not standing here, prisoner. More than just terror was filling her at this point. Cassandra’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.

           “This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Suddenly, the green void flared brightly, and pain shot through Carrie’s marked hand. She gasped out loudly as her hand flexed open towards the tear in the sky, light pouring from it as well. It was blindly painful, and when her eyes finally opened again, she was on her knees in the snow, her hand curled into a tight fist with green pulsing from it. Cassandra kneeled in front of her, her eyes earnest. “Each time it expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, to closing all of these rifts, including that one, but there isn’t much time, for the world or for you at this rate.” The pain in her hand and the fear Carrie felt send adrenaline rushing through her. While, on principle, she’d normally be plotting ways to get out, she knew this woman was right. In the course of less than half an hour, the damned mark had already become bigger, and if there were demons falling from the sky…

           “I understand, Cassandra. I… I will help you.” Her eyes widened in disbelief for a moment before her face seemed to lighten. She was quickly back on her feet, then pulling Carrie up, though her grip was not as aggressive as it had been before. Cassandra kept her grip on her back, half pulling her along. As they walked through the town, locally and militia dressed folk looked at them… watched them. Their eyes showed a deep hatred to the hooded one, some of them yelling profanities or slurs at her, others spitting at her or her feet; yet her head was high as they walked, completely concealed.

           “They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.” As she talked, they came closer to a worn road leading to a tall gate door, and further out into the snowy area surrounding the small village. “It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together… And now… Now they are all dead.”

Her voice was filled with grief, and for a moment it looked as though she were crying. Upon a second look, the tears were gone and in their place was a look of defiance… and sadness. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” They exited the gate door and were now out on a cobble bridge. Cassandra took a knife from her belt as she turned, then gripped Carrie’s arm. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” She cut the leather tie holding her wrists. “Come. It is not far.” Carrie rubbed her sore wrists, wincing.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach first. We are… going to meet up with a few ‘friends’.” Carrie lifted a brow at the rather venomous tone on the word but didn’t voice her curiosity. Sighing, she surveyed the bridge as she fell in line behind the woman. She noticed the eye marking on her breastplate also appeared on her shield, and the sheath of her sword. She saw the other scouts and soldiers also bore this symbol, as did the gate doors they used to exit the bridge. While she was in her thoughts she had apparently missed Cassandra calling for them to be opened, or the guards already knew to open them. She was gestured forward by her captor, down a worn path to another set of gates. There were spiked barricades pointed to this next set, and as they went further, soldiers came running past them yelling about being damned and the heaven’s falling. As they were closing the distance, another shot of pain went through her hand, and she found herself on her knees, clutching her hand, Cassandra’s own hand on her shoulder.

“The pulses are coming faster now... The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.” She helped her back up, to which Carrie nodded in thanks. They continued down the path, moving at a jog now.

           “How did I survive the blast?” Cassandra’s breath seemed to catch for a moment before she answered:

“They say you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They said a woman was in the rift behind you… no one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I-I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” They were crossing another cobble bridge when a glowing green rock came shooting down, hitting it dead center. The bridge collapsed under them and everyone else there, sending them spiraling to the ground underneath. Carrie let out a garbled yell as she tumbled, crying out as she hit her ribs and right leg against fallen rubble. The sound of the collapse had mostly drowned Cassandra’s roar of surprise, though it hadn’t silenced the screams and cracks as people were buried under the broken cobble.

Carrie had blacked out for a moment, maybe two, before she was awoken by Cassandra shaking her shoulder roughly. Her ears were ringing again, and an awful pounding had begun in the back of her head. She could barely see, her vision was so blurry…

“Carrie! Carrie, can you hear me? Damned it all, are you alright?” Carrie gripped her arm unsteadily as her eyesight unblurred, trying to get a hold on the world…

When she saw a… thing coming towards them. It looked like it was cloaked in red and black robes, with long, bony arms and claws reaching from under its sleeves. Carrie gestured towards it, half yelling Cassandra’s name. Another throb of pain went through her skull, making her eyes water. She heard Cassandra scramble up and grab her dropped weapon and shield, each making a metallic shhhhik as she picked them up. Her blurry blob went running to fight the fiend, but in front of Carrie came a bubbling green-black mass… from which another creature emerged. Gasping, she hauled herself to her feet, trying to force the world to stop tilting as the thing glided towards her, screeching loudly. Roaring, she felt a whirling ball of flames come to her hands, both unbearably hot and icily cold. She blasted the creature with it, setting it ablaze. It swiveled around, beating at itself in hopes of putting out the flames.

Scrambling, Carrie searched for anything to use to defend herself… and found a bow, similar to the ones some of the soldiers on the bridge had been tending to… before they died. Shaking that thought away, she grabbed it and the matching quiver. Strapping the quiver to her back, she took out an arrow and enchanted it with flames right before she sent it flying through the creature’s skull. It let out a garbled noise, before disintegrating into a mass of black sludge. She saw and heard the same happen with the other as Cassandra pierced it through the torso with her sword. She pulled it out and shook it off before turning around, although stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Carrie had both killed another and was armed.

“It’s over. Could have been-”

           “Drop. Your. Weapon. Now.” Cassandra’s blade was now pointed at the mage archer, distrust written on her face. Carrie felt both a prickle of unease and defiance roll over her neck but thought better of disobeying. She was able to feel something was… off about this woman, as though something powerful was threaded through her veins.

           “Fine. Alright. I’ll disarm.” Carrie had nearly placed her bow on the ground when Cassandra spoke up.

           “Wait.” She hesitated for a moment, then sheathed her sword. “You have magic, and though you don’t need that bow… You should have it. To protect yourself. I… should remember you agreed to come. Willingly. Oddly enough, I’ve not met many mages who were able to string a bow, but it seems you’re very… accurate.” She gestured up a mountain side nearby, murmuring that we need to go that way. She also offered some potions and salves, and after rustling up a bag from near the bridge, deposited them into it and strung it over Carrie’s shoulder. The two headed onward, towards wherever Cassandra thought they needed to be.

           Along the way, they found bodies, and more creatures. Some were like spirits, and you couldn’t get close to them without them drifting off quickly, looking for high ground over you. After some time, there was a large set of steps, inlaid into the mountain side, leading steeply up to a collapsed bridge and an area of broken down fort wall. A glowing, crystalline spiked sphere hovered in the air, spinning slowly over a large fight taking place. The demon-shrouded creatures were in battle against a few scouts, a thin elven man, and a crossbow-wielding dwarf.

           Cassandra launched into battle with a war cry, and Carrie helped pick the ones off of the less-capable scouts and one that had managed to slip behind the angry warrior woman. As the last creature became a puddle, the elven man grabbed Carrie’s marked wrist and held it up to the green sphere.

           “Quick! Before more come through!” Beams of bright green light connected the sphere and her hand, pulsating, before the sphere burst into light and then disintegrated similarly to the demons. Her hand ached a bit, but not nearly as much as it had before.

           “What exactly did you just do to me?” The elven man chuckled softly, gesturing to her.

           “I did nothing. The credit is yours.” His head was cocked to the side, and he had an overall friendly demeanor. Carrie frowned for a moment before answering.

           “So, I can help. Or, well, this mark can.” The elf was silent for a second, but quickly explained.

           “Whatever magicks were used to open the Breach also have a connection the mark on your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to seal, or rather, close rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake-and it seems I was correct.”

           “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself…” Cassandra had a nervous but hopeful look on her face.

           “Possibly… It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” His voice had an oddly cold note to it, though his face portrayed otherwise. Carrie felt another uneasy shiver go down her back.

           “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The dwarf turns around, still talking about himself using many hand motions. “Varric Tethras: Rogue, Story… teller…” The dwarf’s voice trailed off as his golden-brown eyes slowly widened in disbelief. “Magpie? Is that you? I mean you look different, but…”

           “Varric, you haven’t changed a bit! Still seem to think showing off chest hair is fashionable.” She ran forward and hugged him, received a loud laugh and a tight hug back. “I’ve missed you. There’s such a void in my heart without you.” He snorted as they parted, shaking his head.

           “You two know each other?” Cassandra’s face was slowly turning red and she had a rather murderous look leveled at Varric. He gave her a rather sheepish smile in return. “You said you had never met her before, VARRIC!” She was slowly walking over to him, face growing redder by the second. He carefully backed away, hands in front of him.

           “C’mon, Seeker. She wears a hood, how was I supposed to know who she was?” Before Cassandra could say anything else, the elven man spoke up.

           “While I’d hate to interrupt you two, we should get going. You know, before the glowing green hole in the sky gets even bigger.” He turned towards Carrie, nodding to her. “By the way, I am Solas. I am pleased to see you still live.” Varric turned towards the two as Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

           “He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’.” She nodded towards Solas, smiling.

           “Well, thank you. It’s, uh, well it’s nice to still be up and kicking, as they say.” He snorted softly, a slight grin coming to his pale features. Taking a closer look at him, she did want to ask how someone could have a head that bald but decided against it. “Should we get going?” Cassandra casted one last glare at Varric before, nodding.

           “We should hurry to the forwarding camp. Come, let’s go.” She set off in front of them, Solas behind her, and the last two trailing a bit.

           “Yeaaaaah. C’mon, birdie, we can catch up later. I’ve bet you’ve got stories to tell me and boy, do I have some for you…”

           They set off together in the cold landscape. While they were a rather ragtag group, they moved quickly through the area. They searched homes for any survivors, though there seemed to be none to be found. As they fought their way through demons and houses, there was a rather comfortable silence. Well, for a bit anyway.

           “So… You and Varric know each other?” Cassandra’s voice was light, but tense. Carrie laughed softly, her lips curling into a warm smile under her hood.

           “Yeah, you could say that. I traveled around a lot for a long time. I met up with Hawke quite a bit. One thing led to another, and I met most of her friends, including Varric. I traveled off and on with her for quite some time.” Cassandra mumbled to herself as they continued on. After realizing there were truly no people waiting for rescue, they turned their attentions fully to getting to the forward camp. As they closed the gap, Cassandra spoke up again.

           “I… I hope Leliana made it through all of this.” Her voice held concern, and upon looking at her, it was written in her features as well.

           “She’s resourceful, Seeker. I bet she’s waiting to tell us how damn slow we are.” Varric nudged her a bit, and just the slightest, reassured smile came to her lips, though it quickly disappeared and her faced flushed a slight bit.

           “We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We are almost there.” While his voice was cheery, Carrie felt it was surely drained as new sights greeted them the closer they came. Carriages lay burning and crumbled, the bodies of their passengers ejected nearby. It was bloody, gory, and she honestly felt she may vomit at any moment. She had seen carnage before, but it always made her sick. Always.

           As they reached the top of the hill path they took, her mark flared painfully. As they came over the hill top, they saw why: the guards at the forward camp were being swarmed by demons falling out of a rift. “Another rift!” Cassandra cried as she raced to pick a demon off of a fallen guard. Solas let out a blast of frost, freezing one of the cretins. Varric quickly exploded it.

           “Seal it! Quickly!” Carrie stealthed herself, enfolding herself with magic, and raced to the sphere. She raised her hand, and again, beams of light attached to her hand and the sphere. With a flick of her wrist, it exploded, and left her hand aching once more. As it disappeared, Cassandra called for the gates to be opened. Clutching her hand, she followed the warrior into the camp, past guards who glared uneasily at her. Not too far into to camp was Leliana. She seemed to be arguing with a chancellor.

           “You, Cassandra, The Most Holy- Haven’t you all done enough already?” He turned to look at us, his nose scrunched unpleasantly. “Ah, here they come.”

“Ah, you’ve made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

           “I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!” Cassandra’s face quickly contorted into a sort of snarl.

           “‘Order me’?! You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!” She scoffed and looked him up and down with an unimpressed look.

           “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” They two glared at each other, their eyes shooting daggers in either direction.

           “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” He snorted, shaking his head in disdain.

           “Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey Her orders on the matter.” He crossed his arms with an ugly, smug look on his face.

           “Sooo… None of you are actually in charge here.” The chancellor’s face flamed angrily as he shoved a finger in her direction.

           “You killed everyone in charge here!” He looked to Cassandra, his lip curled. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” She shook her head vehemently, crossing her arms over her breastplate.

           “We can stop this before it is too late.” He scoffed disbelievingly.

           “How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

           “We must get to the Temple. It’s the quickest route.” Leliana stepped in, her lips pressed into a tight line.

           “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” Cassandra frowned, her eyes turning towards the mountains as Leliana pointed to them.

           “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky.” The chancellor interrupted them, his lips pursed and his face paler than it had been.

           “Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost!” Right as he spoke, the Breach flared once more, causing the mark to envelop Carrie’s hand in a green glow. Cassandra looked thoughtful for a moment, before asking:

           “How do you think we should proceed?” Carrie’s jaw dropped for a second, before she snapped it back up, biting her tongue accidentally. Not wanting to look stupid, she did carefully think about her choices. While she didn’t want to lose the scouts… It was likely they were already gone, but the soldiers were alive, and she could definitely keep them safe.

           “Well, since you’re asking… I think we should charge with the soldiers. We can still keep them alive, and not to be morbid, but the scouts may already be dead.” Cassandra nodded, then turned to Leliana.

           “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.” Leliana dashed out, and away, through the gates behind them. As the group walked towards where the soldiers were, the chancellor left them with a parting message.        

           “On your head be it, Seeker.” Cassandra seemed to have ignored him, or was putting up a good show of it.

           The way to the soldiers was not an easy one. It was a long trek up a sharply inclined mountainside, and by the time they reached the top where the camp was, Carrie’s lungs, legs, and sides burned and ached. While she was a fit person, that was just too much. There were soldiers and bits of slime from demons everywhere, and as they made their way through, more and more wounded came into sight. She felt so nauseous and afraid she wished she could run and hide. Get away from all of this. She had to fight this feeling all the way up to the area that exited to the Temple. A place with yet another rift. The soldiers were knee deep in demons, including someone with finer armor than the rest; likely their commander. Cassandra rushed to him, helping him pair off with a set of long-legged, tall, horned demons. Solas and Varric picked the other demons off of the soldiers, giving them more room to fight. Carrie, again, cloaked herself and ran forward, her only intentions being the rift.    

           However, on her way there, she was suddenly flung in the air by a demon-it had come up from under her, then knocked her off her feet. Though in more pain than she had been, she got up. She felt her magic soar through her veins, singing of power and chaos. She struck the demon with ice, freezing it, then smashed a hardened fist into it. The thing shattered into darkly colored bits, and she continued quickly to her original destination. Her hand thrummed as she closed this one, the same as the last, and that same ache set into her bones. She heard footsteps behind her, which stopped next to her. Solas nodded his head to her, smiling slightly.

           “Sealed, as before. You’re becoming quite proficient in this.” Varric came up near the two, gesturing with his shoulder to the Breach.

           “Let’s hope it works on the big one.” As she was about to answer, she heard a startlingly familiar voice. A voice that, by all accounts, shouldn’t be here.

           “Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done.” She slowly turned her head to the man the voice belonged to and saw… Cullen. His skin was far paler than the last she had seen of him, and the bags under his amber eyes had somehow become even worse. She kept her face down, using her hood to obscure her face. He didn’t need to know she was here. He didn’t need to know she was alive at all. She was brought back by Cassandra’s voice. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning on a support to a post nearby.

           “Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner’s doing.” Cassandra waved her arm towards Carrie, who only slightly turned to the Commander, as they called him.

           “Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” His eyes were piercing, searching. Trying to find anything out about her that they could. She couldn’t allow that, though. She wouldn’t. She won’t.

           “I-I will do my best, ser. It’s all I or anyone else can do, in this situation.” He sighed, scrunching his nose slightly.

           “I suppose we’ll see soon enough. The way to the Temple should be clear, Seeker. Leliana will try to meet you there.” Cassandra nodded, the motioned for us to follow her.

           “Then we must move quickly! Give us time, Commander.” Hers eyes implored him, and he nodded, his lips pursing slightly.

           “Maker watch over you-for all our sakes.” He looked between the four of them, then followed his soldiers back to the camp, helping a rather injured man stay on his feet. Together, they jumped down the ledge from the camp to the body-littered ground below, no doubt victims of the explosion. They ran to the Temple entrance, which was still flaming, even now. They descended, rubble and bodies everywhere. There were small red, glowing crystals she remembered all too well on the floors, and as they came into the now dilapidated main area, they were greeted by a horrid sight. Red lyrium crystals of all sizes were everywhere, their light ominously lighting the darker corners of the room. Yet, the worst part was an enormous rift in the dead center, almost serenely glowing.

Carrie heard footsteps, many of them, behind her, and then Leliana and Cassandra speaking, though she doesn’t remember what they said, nor much after that. Just Divine Justinia, screaming for her to run, screaming for mercy as a cruel voice calls out for his guards to kill her. Though it’s only a flashback she remembers, from the rift, and then the demon. The twisted creature that emerged, its gargantuan size dwarfing everything nearby. Then… Darkness. A twisting darkness that wove itself through her, lapping at her mind, intoxicating her body. And that is all.

I hope you enjoyed! This is going to be a looooong story, so I hope you stay tuned. Cheers!

[louuieferrignojr]

Cold Feet and Broken Ankles

(crossposted to ao3)

Summary: David realizes his feelings for Patrick and runs.

David was nervous.

He hadn’t been this nervous since he crushed on a girl in 7th grade and made a fool of himself in front of her when he asked her out in front of his entire grade at one of the many private schools he attended. She had started laughing and walked away without even giving him a response, leaving him with an empty feeling in his chest and a bitterness towards the world.

Until Patrick.

Patrick was not like anyone he ever met before. He was sweet, kind and didn’t look at David like he had grown two heads. He also didn’t want to just hop into bed with him, which was refreshing and new.

A little too new for David, who didn’t know how to handle a real relationship. He’d ignore how sad that fact was later.

When he first met Patrick, he felt an instant attraction, which scared him. How the hell would he be able to handle working with this man when all he wanted to do was kiss his face?

Lucky for him, after embarrassing phone messages and working together to make the store a semi-success, he kissed him and Patrick didn’t run away screaming.

Which did happen once when he was 21 and at a bar. He didn’t like to relive that experience.

But he would love to relive this one.

“David?”

Oh god.

David looked up, shaking away his thoughts to focus on the man in front of him.

Patrick.

He let a smile come across his face and he felt Patrick’s eyes on him, confused and slightly worried. The other man smiled as David kept looking at him in adoration.

David really needed to calm down. He felt Alexis’ nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him to relax and not overthink anything. He let out a breath and opened his mouth to reply when the door opened and a customer came in.

Patrick looked at him briefly, before turning to help the woman who came in and David cursed quietly to himself.

He hated feeling like this. He really liked Patrick, but he also didn’t know how to handle the feeling that everything was going to fall apart and Patrick would leave him in the dust, ripping the gift he gave him off the wall with no thought.

He suddenly couldn’t breathe and the sweater he had on felt really tight around him, suffocating him.

He remembered this feeling. He felt it a while back and Ted explained that it was a panic attack.

Oh god he was panicking.

“David?” The older man suddenly realized Patrick was in front of him, concern his eyes as he took in his boyfriend’s state and before he could think about it, David ran out of the store.

Without a sense of direction of where he would be going, he didn’t take notice of the fallen tree branch in front of him and he fell down. Hard.

He heard his ankle snap as he went down and he cried out in pain.

“David?” A familiar voice spoke up nearby and he winced through the pain and looked up to see Stevie kneeling down by him.

“Yeah?” He responded, nonchalantly, ignoring the blinding pain in his ankle. His best friend rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. David watched as she sent a text to someone and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe.

“Jesus David,” Patrick’s voice filled the air a minute later, and he opened his eyes to see his boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend at the rate this relationship was going. He was pretty sure Patrick would break up with him after his panic attack and sprint out of the store.

“Hi,” he spoke meekly, trying not to move his ankle. Patrick rolled his eyes, before lifting David into his arms, much to the shock of the older man.

Patrick was stronger than he thought.

He cried out in pain from the movement and Patrick muttered an apology, before he carried David over to his car. Much to Patrick’s surprise, David barely made a scene at him getting carried. The pain from his ankle must have overpowered any feelings of David being embarrassed about looking like a damsel in distress.

Stevie was right beside them, David noticed. She opened the door to the backseat and he felt himself being placed down on the seat and Patrick elevated his leg so it wouldn’t cause him so much pain. He suddenly felt really tired and he heard the two front doors of the door opened and close and he fell asleep before they even made it out of Schitt’s Creek towards to the hospital in Elmsdale.

--

“David?” A voice whispered in his ear and David tried to swat at the person. He just wanted to sleep.

“David, come on. You have to get your ankle looked at. It’s the size of a balloon,” Patrick stated, knowing that the comparison would wake up his boyfriend.

Suddenly alert, David opened his eyes and looked down at his ankle.

He glared at Patrick, seeing that it was not the size of a balloon.

Maybe the size of a golf ball and he was in a great amount of pain again.

He really needed painkillers for this.

Stevie had rushed inside the hospital to get help and David found himself being pushed up gently into a sitting position and helped out of the car by his boyfriend and a nurse.

Suddenly, the embarrassment he hadn’t felt before came back full force and he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“David Rose?” An unfamiliar voice called out to him and he opened one eye to see the nurse next to him. He realized he had been placed on a gurney and was being taken further and further away from Patrick into the hospital.

“Yeah?” He asked, suddenly wanting a familiar face near him. He felt a prick in his arm and suddenly everything fell away.

--

“He needed surgery?” Alexis asked Patrick about an four hours later, watching as her older brother slept away in the hospital bed. The entire family was there, along with Stevie and the Schitts. Even Ted was there, for reasons Patrick didn’t really know, but he wasn’t going to question it.

A nurse appeared in the doorway and smiled gently, taking in the scene of all the people in the room.

“I’m sorry folks, but only three people can be in the room as one time.” She looked apologetic, Patrick took note, but the glare that Moira sent her, had her practically running out of the room.

“Apparently his ankle was severely broken and they needed to add screws into the bone to keep it in place.” The entire room shuddered at the explanation.

“My poor boy,” Moira dramatically sat down in the seat next to his bed, putting her hand out to reach her son before she pulled away. Johnny laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder, contemplating reaching out to his son as well.

Patrick looked at the family, taking note that they were definitely not a touchy feely family.

There was an awkward silence filling the room, the only noise coming from the machines attached to David.

“I think we should head out,” Jocelyn stated, looking at her husband who shrugged and bid them all goodbye.

“Oh thank go-od they left,” Moira said. She felt all eyes on her and sighed. “I can only take so much of Jocelyn looking like she was about to cry. David has a broken ankle. He isn’t dying.”

“I think I should go too,” Ted said, noting that he wasn’t particularly close to David and felt incredibly out of place. He wasn’t even dating Alexis anymore, but she insisted he come with her for emotional support.

“I’ll walk you out,” Alexis spoke up, grabbing Ted’s hand and practically dragging him out of the room.

“Dear, why don’t we go to the cafeteria and leave Patrick and Stevie with David,” Johnny suggested to his wife, who looked put out before sighing and grabbing her bag.

“If we must,” she got up and followed her husband out of the room.

“That was incredibly awkward,” Patrick stated bluntly and Stevie let out a laugh.

“You get used to it.”

Patrick sat down, looking over at his boyfriend who somehow looked smaller in the hospital bed. He bit his lip, before grabbing David’s hand, careful of the IV sticking out of it.

“So what happened exactly?” Stevie and Patrick both asked each other, before chuckling at the well timed question.

“I saw him running down the sidewalk and was too far away to call out to him before I saw that tree branch he tripped over,” Stevie explained, concerned as to why she saw David running like he was being chased.

Patrick frowned, “He looked like he was having a panic attack at the store and I didn’t want to spook him, but before I could get another word into our very limited conversation, he ran out of the store. He looked like he was going to run through the door if he wasn’t careful.”

Stevie was about to speak up again, but they heard a groan from the bed.

“David?” Patrick whispered, putting his hand on his boyfriend’s head, trying to soothe him.

“Wha?” The older man mumbled, confused. He blearily opened his eyes and winced against the light.

“Hey there friend,” Stevie said from where she was standing at the end of the bed.

“Ugh, my ankle.” David whimpered, trying not ignore the pain.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Patrick tried to ease his worries. He grabbed a button and handed it to David, “You can press this to get the pain meds.”

David quickly pressed it and in 15 seconds, felt the pain go away.

“What happened exactly?” He asked warily, looking between his best friend and boyfriend.

“You kind of had a panic attack, ran out of the store...and tripped over a branch,” Patrick explained, “only you would break your ankle to the point where you actually needed surgery,” he chuckled.

“Oh my god I’m such an idiot,” David grumbled, pouting.

Patrick smirked lightly and caressed David’s cheek, pulling David’s focus on him and away from his mortification.

“You have to tell me if you’re hurting David. That’s how relationships work,” he reminded his boyfriend, who tried to look away.

Stevie coughed, breaking the awkward moment. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you both later. The doctor said you could leave in a few hours. So you won’t be stuck here for much longer.”

“Thank god.” David mumbled, earning him a kiss on the forehead from Stevie.

She bid them both goodbye and walked out and David was left with only Patrick.

The reason for all of this mess was Patrick.

Well not really. The reason for all of this was David’s feelings for Patrick and not knowing what to do with those feelings to start a healthy and stable relationship.

“David?” Patrick asked, letting his fingers card through David’s hair.

The action soothed his boyfriend, who looked like he was going to fall asleep again.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“This?” Patrick asked confused, before realization hit him in the face. “You mean...us?”

“Yeah…” David responded quietly, grabbing the blanket and fooling around with the thread of it.

“Do you want to...break up?” Patrick asked, pulling his hand away.

David felt his eyes tear up, not knowing what to do.

“No. I don’t,” he responded. Patrick quirked an eyebrow at him, lost as to why David suddenly felt this way.

“Then what David?”

“I’ve never been in a relationship with someone for more than three months. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I don’t know how to make it stick,” he let out a breath before continuing, “Alexis tells me I overthink everything which is why my anxiety spikes and why I ran out of the store today.”

“David…” the younger man started, but David wasn’t finished.

“The last relationship I had was unknowingly with two other people. My relationships end in disaster, but I’m hoping ours doesn’t. I just don’t know how I can make sure that ours will last because I love you.”

Patrick’s mouth fell open at the proclamation and David’s eyes widened at what he just confessed.

Patrick cleared his throat, grabbed David’s face and kissed him. David fell into the kiss and returned it happily, before Patrick separated their lips. The older man felt his boyfriend kiss him on the forehead and Patrick finally pulled away.

“I love you too,” Patrick proclaimed before grabbing David’s hand and squeezing it.

Unbeknownst to them, Johnny and Moira had been standing outside the door to the room and heard the entire conversation.

“Oh my son is in love!” Moira cried out dramatically and David groaned from inside the room.

“Mom!” “Moira!” The two Rose men exclaimed at once, leaving Patrick to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but knowing he would gladly take this eccentric family any day if it meant he would be with David.

[liaragaming]

All Hallow's Eve

Inktober, Prompt 15. Thedas Halloween. For @dahalloween​

Word count: 1,127.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know about All Hallow’s Eve,” says Dorian.

“I suppose I did know of it,” Solas tells him, not looking up from his book. “Just not that it had a name… or that it occurred every year.”

Dorian shakes his head and turns to Lavellan. “This is what happens when you live as a hermit. We’re lucky he’s so civilized.” He walks away, still shaking his head.

“You really didn’t know?” Lavellan asks.

Solas stares at her. “You think I’d feign ignorance to give Dorian further opportunity to antagonize me?”

She laughs. “I suppose not. I just… one would think you’d have least seen the sky change color.”

“As I told Dorian, I have. I just didn’t realize the cause of it… or that it happened every year. Time takes on a different perspective when you… live alone.”

She cocks her head. “The Fadewalker didn’t realize the sky changing colors was due to spirits pressing against the Veil?”

Solas shakes his head. “I originally thought it a natural phenomenon through some projection of light. Spirits press against and crossover the Veil quite commonly, and no one’s ever noticed any strange color variations.”

“But you’re researching it now?”

He returns to his book. “Spirits press against the Veil in physical places where strong emotion lingers, most commonly war zones, which reverberate great sorrow or anger. The most common folk would notice about these areas is a slight tingling on their skin. That spirits would press the Veil in such large numbers as to change the sky colors and do so according to a time table goes against every way I know spirits to behave.”

“You must have a theory,” she says.

He sighs and turns several pages. “Some catastrophic event must have occurred, one that affected the entire world. And the devastation of that event is still felt on its anniversary, even though history may have forgotten it.”

“How could something like that be forgotten?”

He scoffs. “What hasn’t history forgotten? Unless you believe the Chantry tale that All Hallow’s Eve occurs on the anniversary of the first darkspawn.” He tosses his book to the floor. “Useless.”

“Can I help?” she suggests.

Solas shakes his head and chooses another book from his rather large pile. “I’d be irritable company right now, vhenan. Besides, a night during which spirits press the Veil? I’m sure some of our companions need you more than I.”

Sera has drawn the curtains over her windows and constructed a blanket fort in her room, complete with several pillows. A book and her bow sit at her feet.

“Two fold.” She gestures at the blankets forming a tent around her. “When the crazy stuff starts happening, I won’t see a thing.” She points in Lavellan’s direction. “And if any demon comes through that door, I’ll stick ‘em.”

“You plan to stay awake the whole night?”

“Yeah,” says Sera, as though it’s a stupid question. “Normal people don’t sleep during All Hallow’s Eve.”

Downstairs, The Iron Bull has decided to drink himself stupid. “Demons can’t bother me if I can’t care they’re here.”

Varric has decided to join him, though more out of entertainment than fear. “It’s a lot of weird,” he says. “I didn’t know what to do with the changing colors in the sky before there was a giant hole in it. Cards and drinks, I can handle.”

Blackwall shares his sentiment and has dragged Cole to join him at the table.

“You won’t be watching the festivities?” Lavellan asks.

Cole shakes his head. “Spirits pressing, wanting, yearning, desperate, trying to understand something they can’t. I don’t know how to help them. It’s more distressing from this side. I… I think I’ll just play cards?”

“I’ll drink to that!” says Bull, and he finishes off his tankard.

She leaves the men to their antics and catches Scout Harding outside the tavern. “Any concerns about tonight?”

Harding shakes her head. “Cullen has taken a regiment to Haven to deal with any demons that might break through the Breach. We’ve fortified areas with known rifts. And Cassandra is organizing a group here, just in case. Leliana’s had some trouble with agents who refuse to be out during the night, but–”

Lavellan laughs. “I meant personally.”

“Oh!” she blushes. “Well, no, Your Worship. I mean, the Breach does give one pause, but… my mother and I have watched the event every year. I’m not about to miss it now. I know she’ll be watching too.”

“No concern about demons?”

“My mother and I have never encountered any. Of course, the Breach might change that but… What about you? How do the Dalish treat All Hallow’s Eve?”

She hesitates. “The Dalish believe the Leal’Enansal carries a great blessing. It is the one night of the year when our gods are briefly able to commune with us. The entire clan gathers to watch. It is said any clan visited by demons has been deemed unfavorable and must make reparations until the following year. Likewise, any individuals that encounter demons when the clan did not must spend a year in repentance.”

“Oh,” says Harding. “So, may I ask if your clan… ever encounter any demons?”

She smiles. “We did not. Though there was a group of brothers who snuck off during the festivities and came back with quite the story to tell… and a year of service to live out.”

Lavellan and Dorian join Vivienne on her balcony, the best place in Skyhold to view the sunset while they wait for the sky to darken. Dorian has placed three wine glasses on the banister. He holds a fourth in his hand.

“I’m surprised, Vivienne,” he says. “We all know you don’t like spirits. I thought for sure you’d be staying inside.”

She picks up the glass closest to her. “When the lion rears its head, my dear, one does not take its eyes from it, lest one wishes to tempt death.”

“Well said,” says Solas as he joins them.

“Did you find anything?” Lavellan asks him.

He shakes his head. “Theories, vhenan. Theories and no resources to verify them.”

She’ll ask him about those theories later. For now, she hands him a glass of wine and takes comfort in the arm he places around her waist.

A cry of awe goes up below them from the watching crowd in the courtyard brave enough to risk the event. The sky bursts in alternating colors of green, pink, red, orange, yellow, and all manner of colors in between.

“Fascinating,” Solas says in wonder.

Vivienne tsks. “I heard the most curious thing. Did our Fade expert really not know about All Hallow’s Eve?”

Solas sighs and ignores her.

Lavellan leans her head on his shoulder, feeling truly blessed.

What if Thedas had a Halloween? Turns out, it does (called Funalis and is a remembrance day for the dead). I’m glad I didn’t look that up beforehand, or I may have never written this. Maybe Thedas can have two Halloweens?

Leal’Enansal – is taken from Project Elvhen and literally means “night blessing.”

Read all prompt stories: [AO3] [Tumblr]

[elesianne]

Fëanorian week: Maedhros

A Silmarillion fanfic

Summary: Maedhros discovers that one never really forgets what one learns in youth when he comforts scared children with a song, near the beginning and near the end.

Length: ~2,200 words, Rating: General audiences

Tag-type thingies: characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond & Elros; some keywords: children, family fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort

Fëanorian week prompts: Childhood and Adjusting/Coping, to some degree at least

A/N: I wrote this two-part fic as a way of figuring out how to reconcile the popular-within-fandom tropes of Maedhros as a) the eternal babysitter and b) the (at least initially) less enthusiastic 'foster dad' to Elrond and Elros.

The first, fluffy half takes place during the blissful years in Valinor when Maedhros and Maglor are still children. Note on Quenya names here. I use only Maglor's father-name here because I imagine that was the only name he had when this young. The second half takes place some time after the Third Kinslaying so of course there is angst.

AO3 link

*

Lullabies

He leaves his door open a crack and doesn't cover the lampstone, because he knows his brother will seek him out sooner or later and Maitimo doesn't want Canafinwë to trip over his feet in the dark.

Cáno is too old now to seek comfort from servants if he becomes scared of the night while their parents are gone, Maitimo believes, but he is not too old to come to his big brother, certainly not it that brother leaves his door open and light on invitingly.

Their parents rarely spend the night away from their children, preferring to take them along on most trips and to many events, but this time their duties meant they had to leave their sons at home with the servants while they stay at an important party until very late in order to be polite. And Athyallë the nursemaid has her hands full with the newest family addition, baby Turcafinwë, so Maitimo and Canafinwë have manage themselves for the most part.

('But you will be all right, won't you?' had their mother asked at the moment of departure, a flicker of worry in her eyes, looking like she was reconsidering her decision to attend the party.

'Of course they will', their father said, his look more confident if also affectionate.

'Of course we will', echoed Maitimo, his arm around Canafinwë's shoulders, and was rewarded with a smile from his mother and an approving nod from his father.)

It takes a little longer than Maitimo expected for his brother to appear, and he is getting sleepy himself by the time he hears the pitter-patter of small feet from the hallway. He sits up at once and rubs the sleepiness from his eyes.

Canafinwë, wearing a long nightgown and furry slippers that stick out from underneath the hem, peeks shyly into the room.

'Nelyo?'

'Yes, Cáno?'

The dark-haired toddler shuffles closer, a thoughtful look on his face. 'The baby is making noise.'

'He likes to do that', Maitimo nods. Their little brother is a noisy child, whether he is crying in distress or shrieking in delight.

'And his room is right next to mine.'

Maitimo scoots back on the bed to lean against the wall and pats the spot next to him. Cáno climbs on the bed, kicks off his slippers and looks at Maitimo with wide eyes.

'Turco might keep making noise until mother and father come home. I might not be able to sleep. And then I will be tired in the morning and can't go to my music lesson.'

Ah, the all-important music lessons, thinks Maitimo. He had been jealous of them at first. After being allowed to begin his music studies with a renowned tutor at an unusually young age, Cáno had been so excited that he hadn't talked about anything else for weeks.

But then Maitimo had realised that he was always the one Cáno ran to after coming home from his lessons, bursting with the need to share all he had learned with his brother, wanting to hear Maitimo's opinion when he practised and did his homework, and all had been well again.

'Well, that wouldn't do at all. So you can sleep here with me', Maitimo tells Cáno and sees the worry melt from his expressive features.

'Thank you.' Cáno hugs his brother, and then Maitimo jumps down from the bed and tiptoes across the floor to fetch a cushion from a chair. By the time he closes the door and gets back to the bed, Cáno has already taken hold of Maitimo's own pillow and laid down on the side of the bed next to the wall, covers drawn up to his nose.

'Can I cover the lampstone?' Maitimo asks him. 'Or do you mind the dark?'

'Not when you're here', Cáno says earnestly, and Maitimo knows that the worry for being too tired for his music lesson wasn't the only fear that drove Cáno here. He doesn't say anything though, just covers the blue light of his father's crystal lamp, finds his way to bed in the dark and slides under the blankets next to Cáno's small, warm form.

'Will you sing me a lullaby?'

Maitimo raises his brows, safe in the knowledge that Cáno can't see it. 'Didn't Athyallë already sing to you when she put you to bed?'

'She never sings all the verses. I had to sing the last three myself and it's not the same.'

'Very well', says Maitimo who still likes lullabies though he has been too old for them for a while now. 'Which song do you want?'

Cáno names his favourite, and Maitimo sings it to him in a quiet voice. Cáno hums along at first but soon gets drowsy and just listens, his breath tickling Maitimo's jaw as they lie facing each other.

'There. Are you ready to sleep now?' Maitimo asks when the song ends, stifling a yawn himself.

'Yes, thank you.'

From Cáno's tone Maitimo can tell that his little brother still has something he wants to say. 'What is it, Cáno?'

'I felt a little lonely in my room', Cáno admits after a moment. 'In the dark.'

'You know you could have left your lamp on, or your curtains open. Or just have come and slept here to begin with', Maitimo says, kindly if lecturingly.

'I know', says Cáno and burrows deeper into the pillow. 'But I wanted to try to be brave first.'

'You are brave', says Maitimo and settles the covers better over them both. 'But you are still only little. Goodnight, Cáno.'

The only answer is a sleepy sniffle, and then Maitimo's little brother stills.

Maitimo smiles in the dark and closes his eyes.

*

On a stormy night hundreds of years later and an ocean away, and much older and more bitter and broken, Maedhros remembers the nights in his youth when his brothers would seek solace with him when their parents were away, or when one of them had quarrelled with a parent and sought sympathy elsewhere.

Celegorm had usually come to Maedhros in those situations since he and Maglor never understood each other very well, but Carnistir had sometimes gone to Maglor, and the twins in their turn quite often confided in Carnistir who had tried with all his bullheadedness to be a good big brother to them. Curufin had rarely needed anyone aside from their father.

And now they are all gone except Maglor, and even he is away for this particular night, gone to order supplies from a nearby settlement. And the twins, the other twins, no, the third set of twins that Maedhros has had cause to worry over, are crying, probably scared as much by Maglor's absence as the storm raging in the night. They take no solace in Maedhros's presence a few rooms over, and he rather thinks they might become even more scared if he went to their room and tried to comfort them.

The sons of Elwing and Eärendil are no longer afraid of the sons of Fëanor and their folk but neither do they trust them, the only exception being Maglor whose calm manner and lovely songs have lately managed to coax smiles of the half-elf twins. Maedhros they still seem afraid of, and he must admit he has done little to win their trust, to make them less wary of his grim, scarred looks. He thinks Maglor unwise for taking them in and becoming attached.

Loving anything is folly for damned men such as we are, thinks Maedhros as he tries to ignore the quiet sounds of distressed children.

But the crying begins to get on his nerves, frayed as they are these days, though it is not a loud sound. Elrond and Elros are clearly trying to be quiet even in their unhappiness.

Maedhros tries not to care, but he cannot help contrasting these twins crying uncomforted in a lonely room in the abode of those who killed their kin with the days of his childhood when solace was never far away for an unhappy boy, whether from a brother or a parent or other caring grown-up.

It is becoming increasingly clear that he will not find sleep as long as the children continue crying, and as the storm keeps growing and Maglor will not return tonight, there is no reason why they would stop. Maedhros throws his covers aside and stares at the ceiling for a moment.

There is nothing for it but to get up and go to the children to quiet them down, either by scaring them silent or finding a way to comfort them.

The first option seems more likely to Maedhros when he sees the twins flinch as he steps into their room.

'What's wrong?' he barks, painfully aware of how different his voice is to Maglor's gentle tones. Yet he used to be so good at this, at dealing with children.

Children who are all gone now, a voice at the back of his head reminds him. Maedhros forces the bitter voice away and addresses Elrond and Elros again.

'What is the matter? Is it the storm?'

The dark-haired, wild-eyed children huddling together on the bed nod. Maedhros sighs and sits down at the foot of the bed. There is plenty of space between him and the twins, but they keep a wary eye on him nonetheless.

'This is not the first storm this winter, and like others before it, it will pass', Maedhros explains as gently as he can. It is not easy to be gentle now when he has been pushing that side of himself aside for years.

'Maglor was here before', says one of the boys, Maedhros doesn't know which. He hasn't bothered to learn to tell them apart.

'And what would Maglor do during a storm so that you… could fall asleep?' he asks.

These children are proud in spite of their young age and their circumstances, Maedhros has learned, so he will not mention their fear or crying. This much he remembers of dealing with distraught children. Celegorm would become ever more violently unhappy if anyone claimed he was afraid, he recalls.

'He sang to us', says the other twin, and then, before Maedhros has time to even groan and say Of course he did, the first twin asks if he will sing to them now.

Looking into the young grey eyes that gaze defiantly back at him from a face reddened and streaked with tears, Maedhros agrees to sing before he even thinks about it.

This is not a good idea. All the lullabies he knows are in Quenya, a language that must be hateful to these children if they even know it – Maedhros isn't sure they do – and the few songs he knows in Sindarin are songs of war or drinking, not suitable for scared children.

'I don't know many songs, and I am not the singer my brother is', he tries to stall, and occupies himself by going to throw more wood into the fading fire.

'Maglor told us you used to sing lullabies to him when he was little.'

'It was a very long time ago.'

'Do you still remember them?'

'I do.'

'Will you sing one of them to us?'

Maedhros sits down on the bed again, and this time the children don't shy away from him. 'Those lullabies are not in your language.'

Elrond and Elros look at each other. 'We don't care', says the one who always seems to speak first. 'Maglor sings in the old language sometimes too.'

Maedhros makes a noncommittal sound at that. 'Wait a moment,  I'm trying to remember the words.'

The words of Maglor's favourite lullaby arrive eventually, and with them the soft tone meant for soothing fretful elflings. Maedhros stares at the fire while he sings, and if he sees in the flames the faces of those long-ago children he has lost, it is surely just because the 'old language' reminds him of them and not because the burden of their deaths is heavier to bear each day.

Maedhros lets the last words of the song fade into silence before he turns to the half-elf twins.

'Thank you', says the first boy, no longer so defiant.

'You are welcome', Maedhros says, and after a brief battle with himself asks, 'Why did you even ask me? Why would you want to hear me sing? I haven't been especially kind to you.'

The second twin answers. 'You are Maglor's brother, and you are kind to him. And tonight you came for us, and you did not have a sword this time.'

Maedhros doesn't know if it is the partially human blood and nature of these children, or if all children who grow up in a world of war grow up so fast and so wise.

'Maglor will be back tomorrow, or when the storm passes', he promises, not certain whether he means to comfort himself or the twins. 'And I will stay here for the night.'

As Elrond and Elros blow their noses and crawl under covers, Maedhros settles into an armchair by the fire, the warmth of it easing the old ache in his right shoulder.

It sounds like the storm is passing already.

*

A/N: Oh, Maedhros. I do love your tarnished, defiant spirit so.

I posted this on AO3 as well and you are also very welcome to comment there! :)