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writing-havoc · 2 years ago

Note

I can't STOP thinking of an idea for inej ghafa x fem!reader so here you go (let me know if I'm freaking you out or if I need to stop, please!). i've read several kaz fics where he gets jealous of r very close relationship with some crow, so imagine that except with inej, where r is kaz's childhood best friend and they are a duo in the eyes of practically everyone (some even consider them a couple). r and inej have been mutually interested in each other for a long time, but r doesn't do anything because she's afraid of the consequences if the information gets out and inej doesn't try anything because she's in doubt whether r likes girls the way she (inej) does. maybe after a heist gone wrong r narrowly escaped death and now inej can't stop thinking about what could have happened if something worse had happened and r had died so the two talk privately and both admit what they feel one for the other. I can't get this idea out of my head and now I want to know how you would write about it. love inej and would like to see more of her point of view on her. oh, it would also be really nice if there was a spotlight on the platonic kaz x reader relationship. something like "we have a problem" and "no you have a problem, I have a problem friend". I imagine too much kaz rolling her eyes at every involuntary sigh of r for inej and at the end when r goes to tell her and inej getting together, kaz just like: "really? and the sky is blue?" but secretly glad her friend and the wraith are together. just inej and r being crazy about each other and kaz turning a blind eye (no romantic feelings for either of course)ssalto que deu errado r escapou por pouco da morte e agora inej pode ' t parar de pensar sobre o que poderia ter acontecido se algo pior tivesse acontecido e r tivesse morrido então os dois conversam em particular e ambos admitem o que sentem um pelo outro. Não consigo tirar essa ideia da cabeça e agora quero saber como você escreveria sobre isso. amo inej e gostaria de ver mais de seu ponto de vista sobre ela. ah, também seria muito bom se houvesse um destaque na relação platônica kaz x leitor. algo como "nós temos um problema" e "não, você tem um problema, eu tenho um problema amigo". Imagino demais kaz revirando os olhos a cada suspiro involuntário de r para inej e no final quando r vai contar pra ela e inej se reunindo, kaz tipo: "sério? e o céu tá azul?" mas secretamente feliz por sua amiga e o fantasma estarem juntos.

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♡ Summary: Inej contemplates whether her feelings for you are reciprocated. A nearly fatal injury throws all apprehensions out the window.

♡ Pairing: Inej Ghafa x Fem!Reader, Kaz Brekker x Reader (platonic!!!)

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Gunshot wound, says y/n three times

♡ WC: 5.4k

Hello!!

Thank you for the request. It was nice getting to write for Inej again. While I've only written for her once before, I feel confident that I'm closer to getting her character right

Kaz is slightly ooc imo. But I feel it comes with the territory of him actually having a lifelong friend instead of being completely alone. So be prepared for that!

Hope you enjoy it regardless <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"What the hell am I looking at?" You ask, frozen in place.

Kaz sighs from somewhere deep within his throat, tone riddled with annoyance. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Inej takes a moment to stare. Her mouth might be open as she squints at the scene, but that's... the least of her worries.

Jesper and Wylan were currently flirting with eachother on the ground floor of the Crow Club, not even at any specific game. Every once in a while pieces of their conversation would float to her ears, and it was just plain horrible.

It's honestly surprising. Jesper has no problem attracting anybody of any gender, but with the way he's talking to Wylan right now she finds it truly unbelievable that Jesper was able to pull anybody at all.

What's even more unbelievable was that Wylan was actually enjoying it.

Seduction tactics don't really interest Inej. But even she is able to distinguish between a good and bad pickup line.

The moment she hears something about a fruit she makes it a point to stop listening to them completely.

"Whatever it is they're talking about I don't think its wise for us to listen anymore." Inej turns away, body facing towards you.

"Agreed." You scoff, turning a little towards her too. "I'm not all that into exhibitionism."

Kaz's eyebrows raise. "Surprising."

He's mocking you, which you immediately recognize and shoot a glare at him, knocking your heel into his cane. "Budge off, limpy."

"Oh no. Not my limp. Anything but the limp."

It's really only funny because Kaz isn't bothering to fluctuate his voice at all. It's monotone, and his eyes remain half lidded and he hoists his cane up and brushes off the dirt you got on it.

Inej smiles, holding back a chuckle as she watches the crowd around her, people steering clear if only for the fact that Kaz is nearby.

"Yes, the limp. Your worst fear." You giggle when you watch his eyes roll.

Nina comes in, standing below the railing where you stand, eyes flickering between you and Kaz.

"How are the lovebirds doing?" She jests.

It sends a little pang through Inej's heart.

Your closeness with Kaz has been a topic of interest within the crows since they joined the little inner circle. And it's not all that surprising.

You have known Kaz the longest out of any of them. You were with him when he joined the Dregs, when he climbed his way up the ladder until he became floor boss and when he managed to secure fifth harbor. You even own a share in it, taking the risk and knowing full well Kaz would have gotten it up and running.

He let's you closer than anyone else, his trust intrinsic to the fact that you have been with him through thick and thin. Inej can tell something big happened an your guys' past, small looks shared here and there, pursed lips when someone mentions a niche topic.

But with the way you hang around eachother, when you sigh with a far away look and Kaz wacks your shin with his cane just gard enough that it aches, when you can have a conversation with just a glance, it's only natural that people assume.

"In his fucking dreams." You chuckle. "This lump of coal is my best friend and nothing more, we've told you this."

Nina smirks, looking between you two once more. "You tell me and yet I can sense your heart beating like crazy, my dear Y/n."

Inej watches as you prickle, flustered, but her gazing is interrupted when you turn your body completely away from her, focusing solely on Nina.

"Hearts can lie, Zenik." Inej watches as the smile falters slightly on Nina's face. "There are people who have mastered the art of lying without any spikes in heartbeat because of grisha power. Unrelated, im simply inebriated and just witnessed the most foul and frankly disgusting conversation between Jesper and Wylan."

Nina groans. "Oh don't even get me started on that. They walked right next to me and let me tell you, I learned more about Wylan than I ever needed to know."

And just like that the topic is dropped, but Inej's mind was still gripping it, trying and failing to squeeze any sort of meaning beneath your words.

Because that conversation between those two boys hadn't flustered you in the slightest. You made jokes, voice and posture lacking any semblance of embarrassment.

You like someone. If not Kaz, then someone else. Someone you know. She takes the little hope that bubbles in her heart and gently pours it into a bottle, corking it and putting it away.

Hope is dangerous. But not unnecessary.

She'll look at it later. When she has time to feel what she needs to feel.

"Well that's a delicious specimen." You purr, watching a man in a bright yellow-green suit walk into the club.

Nina looks where you do, Inej and Kaz following your gaze.

"5." Is all Nina says.

"James Denker." Kaz relays. "Dirt poor, dressed in an attempt to impress."

"Ugly suit color." It wasnt, but it clashed horribly with the reds and blacks the club adorned. He stood out like a sore thumb.

You groan. "You're all the worst."

"We're simply saving you from having the worst time of your life." Nina downs a glass being cleaned up, Rotty taking it back once it was dry. "Speaking of, I need to go find Matthias."

"To torture him?" You lean into the railing, resting your head in your open hand.

Nina hums. "Torture is not on the menu tonight."

Kaz rolls his eyes, immediately leaving to go elsewhere as Nina strolls away, off to find her burly boyfriend.

You stay planted exactly where you are, looking out at the little tide pool of people rolling dice and flipping cards.

"Everyone's so obsessed with sex today." You remark.

Inej raises a brow. "You literally just called a man a 'delicious specimen'."

You chuckle. "I wasnt actually going to do anything. I would never go for a man dressed like an unripe lemon."

She hums, coming to rest her hands on the rail next to you. Out of the corner of her eye she sees you begin to track someone, a smile pulling at your lips. She follows your gaze, and sees a women in a dark blue dress, low a-line revealing her stomach. A feather boa rests on her shoulders, a matching dark blue bandana pinning her hair back in a mass of curls.

"Men tend to have the worst fashion taste."

Inej looks at you, your face relaxed and pupils wider than she's ever seen them.

The girl comes up to the railing, looking up at you. You give her a toothy smile, allowing her to take your hand and give it a kiss.

It squashes her heart and shocks it all at once.

You're so gentle with the woman below, who introduces herself as Femke, at it pains Inej that it's not her, but also uncorks that bottle she had just put away and pours it all over her.

She feels it in her hands, the way her eyes avert as you giggle at eachother with your hand in the safety of your pocket, the way her feet want to run and jump between the highest rooftops.

Kaz was incredibly right. Hope is dangerous.

"I have to go, but it was lovely conversing with you." You say politely, giving Inej a look she knows is begging you to follow her.

She does so, taking an alternate route out of club, pulling up a mask and throwing the hood of her tunic over her head.

She heads out a side door, melding into the shadows of an alleyway as she begins to scale the side of the building, fingers still electrified. Balconies become footholds and launching points and gutters become ledges to hoist herself up.

You're a bit further behind, but not terribly. You opt for a ladder placed on the back of a building two addresses down. You hop along the top of the curved rooftops, bouncing between the dormers and sliding down gabled edges whilst Inej followed, a grin pulling her mask up until you both reach a flat roof.

The view below is rather pretty compared to the rest of the Barrel. The distance you had crossed places you closer to East Stave, the wide canal full of boats and gondolas.

Lamposts were beginning to turn on, the lamplighters going around and lighting them. People began to bunch up, drawing their coats around their shoulders.

She looks at you, then. Worn out, the thinnest sheen of sweat making you glow. She wants to know just how warm you are.

She stays where she is.

"You're rather popular tonight." Inej begins, biting the topic in the ass.

"Hm?" You ask, catching your breath. "Oh, Femke. I guess."

Inej quirks a brow. "It didnt go as planned?"

You chuckle. "You were standing right next to me, Inej." Her name sounds like sweet treats her parents used to get her coming from your lips.

"The moment felt private."

"Femke was pretty, yes. She was... fucking gorgeous." You laugh, a kind of manic one when you remember her features. "But I couldn't be with her even if I wanted to."

Your face turned a little more solemn, eyes glancing around Inej's face.

"I'm sure she would have agreed to a night together if you showed interest."

"Thats not the problem. But thanks for the vote of confidence." You turn away, hopping onto the edge of the roof, hanging your legs off the side.

She walks to the edge, prefering to stay where she could quickly flee, hands resting on the concrete. "Do you want to elaborate?"

She hopes you'll say yes. Hopes you'll let her in.

You swing your feet, lip sucked between your teeth as you tear off the skin.

"I have... a rather quiet appreciation for the attractiveness of women." You say, staring out at the open street full of people. Inej cannot help but think of how romantic this all could be, if the day had been different. The topic lighter. Your words bobble around in her mind relentlessly. "Aside from the fact that me being with someone could compromise their safety, women get enough people who will yell how pretty we are with the caveat that they'll hurt us if we take it negatively in any way. I wanted my love for women to be quieter, out of personal experience, but there all the same."

It feels like Inej's mind is playing tricks on her, some sort of intoxication manifesting in auditory hallucinations. But when you look at her out of the corner of your eye, mouth upturned so perfectly, she knows in her wildest dreams she couldn't have thought of something even half as stunning.

She looks where you were just looking, seeing parades of men with their arms slung around eachother stumbling down the road, women hooking their arms through the other and talking quietly into the others ear, families tugging their kids close and loners standing on the corners of buildings with blunts and cigars resting between their fingers.

She understands. "You've got a beautiful soul."

She'll treasure the way she could hear your shoulders relax, hand coming to rest right next to hers.

-----

"Kaz!! Kaz Kaz Kaz Kaz-"

Inej was startled from her perch in the window when your voice boomed up the stairs, door to the office flying open.

You were slightly out of breath, and your hair was a mess of strands flying in random directions, like you'd been running your fingers through it. Pulling it even.

Kaz didn't seem worried in the slightest though. In fact, she wasn't even sure he recognized you were there until he said, "What is it now, Y/n?"

"We have a problem."

"No we don't. You have a problem. I have a friend who is obsessed with making them." He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to set down the pen from his hold. "What happened?"

Your lip wobbled, and Inej was quick to tag it as fake when you threw yourself into the lonely chair that sits across from Kaz's desk, body melting into it. "There's no more Kvas."

He sighs. "Of course there isn't." His fingers find the bridge of his nose, pinching it just slightly.

"We had four bottles left yesterday." Inej notes. "Was there some sort of celebration?"

"No. All jobs that took place yesterday, while necessary, wouldn't have warranted a celebration like that. I'll order more tonight."

Immediately you brighten, face splitting open as you hop up from the chair, a giggle spilling from your lips. "Thank you Kaz!"

"What's the ocassion?" Inej asks. Her heart stutters when you turn that wide grin towards her.

"Remember that businessman Kaz had you spy on a few days ago?"

That got both her and Kaz's attention, the both of them staring at you. "I do."

"Well, I happened to run into him today and had a chat with him when I realized he was wearing a pocketwatch of the same type that my father used to wear." The mention of your family only makes Inej more interested.

You and Kaz never talk about where you came from, not unprompted anyway. The only tidbits of information that Inej has been able to scrounge up and overhear was that your family was very close friends with Kaz's, and that both of your parents, judging by how you talk about them, are either dead or too busy to bother contacting you.

"And this is meant to mean... what? Exactly?" Kaz prompts, a bit of caution dripping from his tone.

"I'm getting to it! Anyway, we had a rather long conversation about it and how useful they can be. Which of course led into talk about businesses and meetings and the such- he mentioned that there was about to be a huge rise in, like, 4 different stocks because of something going on over in Ravka. I have it written down, um, here!"

You root around your jacket, taking a card out of one of your inner pockets and handing it to Kaz. Inej stood up and walked over, taking a look at the writing.

There 5 stocks written down in your own messy scrawl, the card itself being the man's business information. One of the stocks she recognized as being really low from when Kaz talked about it the day she had to spy on him.

"I also managed to nab his wallet. You would not believe the stuff this guy keeps in here. There's a deed and tons of other interesting things." You take a wallet from your pocket, leaning forward and dangling it in front of Kaz's face.

He grabbed it from you, opening the leather receptacle.

"Aren't I just the greatest bff you could ask for?" You posed, going out of your way to exaggerate each one, sending a wink Inej's way when she eventually made eye contact with you.

"Annoying, is what you are." Kaz remarks.

You two were incredibly confusing sometimes. He treats you differently than he would everyone else. You make fun of him and tease him and get closer than anyone would dare, and he takes all of it in stride, turning your teasing right back on you, pulling you around by your waist with his cane when you particularly annoy him or when you're about to run into something.

But maybe that's just a statement of your friendship. In a way, Inej doesn't think anyone will ever be able to get so deep beneath Kaz's walls like you have. Kaz deserves to have that someone that he can just be who he is around. There's some semblance of a boy within that bloody battered exterior.

And who better to bring that out than you? The person who came here with him and who holds so much compassion that it's truly a wonder it hasn't been beaten out of you yet? You hold a certain appreciation for life that brings a balance to the apathy Kaz likes to exhibit and uplifts others.

It makes Inej remember the little moment last night. The way you looked so calm and the way the lights of the lampost made your skin glow.

You... you really like girls. And it makes Inej feel so giddy and hopeful. It translates as a smile that you return.

Kaz sighs. "Inej, I need you to return this once I look at everything."

She glares at him. "We've talked about this."

"Dearest Inej, will you please return this once I'm done?"

"Can I come?" You ask.

"Unfortunately for you, no." Kaz gives you a glance. "Youre needed with Jesper and I after I do this."

Your eyebrows snap together, mouth opening to say something before the whole expression fades into realization. "Oh yeah." You drag out the words. "For that thing near the lid."

Kaz neglects to answer, still going over everything in the wallet. He pulls out a few bills of kruge, which he immediately stows away into his shirt pocket. Everything is taken out and placed methodically around his desk, any wet papers being skillfully avoided.

"That thing is a ten thousand kruge job. So you better remember what it is."

There's a silence for a few moments, your wide eyes trailing towards Inej. She shrugs, and you cup your hand around your mouth, a stage whisper exiting your lips. "I don't remember."

Kaz drops the wallet, scratching his chair against the floor as he says "of course you don't, filthy lovebird" and walks to a drawer in a dresser, pulling out a blueprint.

'Lovebird.' Inej thinks the same time you whine out an 'I'm sorry' but Kaz ignores it, shoving the paper into your hand. You quickly unroll it as Kaz starts going over the plan once more, eyes flickering to find the starting point.

"It's simple. You will use your curse of an ability to start conversation with complete strangers and distract the guard at the west point by asking for a bathroom..."

Inej remembers this. Kaz had briefed her for it as well before realizing her presence, for once, wasn't all that necessary. You were acting strange that meeting, half of it you were off staring into space at Inej.

She remembers her collar feeling a little stiff, heat making her sweat under your gaze.

Kaz ended up sighing and knocking the metal head of his cane against your forehead, making you yelp. He had to go over the plan again, Jesper laughing at your pouted lip.

"I don't need anything else from this wallet." The conversation fades back into focus. "The kruge and the stock card are all I need. Inej." He holds out the wallet to her, which she takes and immediately pockets it.

"How long will you be gone?" She asks, eyes flickering to you.

"No more than four hours." Kaz stands and takes his cane, heading to the coat rack to collect his outer wear. He gives you a stern glare. "If everything goes according to plan."

Your eyes roll, landing on Inej. "No faith. Absolutely none."

"Faith isn't in his vocabulary."

Kaz walks out the door, leaving it wipe open.

Inej expects you to follow, to jog to the door and disappear beyond into the darkness of the staircase with nothing but a 'see ya' yelled at her.

But you turn to her instead, hand rubbing over your stomach as if to quiet it. You wet your lips, her eyes following the movement. She stands a little straighter when you approach.

"No mourners, yeah?" You extend your fist.

Inej smiles, heart beating faster as she tentatively bumps her knuckles into yours. "Yeah. No funerals."

With a nod, you chuckle and leave, leaving Inej alone with her thoughts and a cold wallet pressed into her tunic.

You'll be fine. Jobs like these were routine, and Kaz and Jesper were two people she'd trust with your life any day.

But that doesn't stop the anxiety from bubbling in her gut, acid gnawing at the walls as she leaps out the window.

The chance for something to go wrong is never zero.

-----

They should be, though.

A loud, booming "Move" startles everyone away from the door. People dive out of the way, a cane flashing by their faces as Jesper carries a body down to the makeshift hospital beneath the Slat.

Inejs heart sinks, Nina rushing in after them.

There's only one person that could be.

She hops down the stairs, weaving through people like a needle and thread and swinging the door open with such a force that it bounces off the wall and squeals shut behind her.

"Guys please it's not that ba- OW!"

"You don't get to say it's not that bad when you lost nearly a quart of blood." Jesper hisses, grabbing at his head.

"What happened?" Inej demands, a rumbling in her chest as she does so.

Kaz nearly threw his cane down, chunks of his composure swiftly falling away. "Plan A failed, we had to resort to Plan J."

Inej wants to tug out her braid, to tug his hair out, "Which was?"

"Fucking book it." Jesper slumps into a chair. "Which we did, but one of them got lucky and hit her in quite possibly one of the worst places you can get hit."

Inej starts going through a catalogue of major arteries, sick intrusive images of your neck blown open and chest reduced to a gaping hole shoving their way into her mind.

But that's not the case. You were talking, sitting upright, protesting.

Now you're laid down, your nails carving crescent moons into your forehead as you shove the heel of your palms into your eyes, teeth gritting.

Nina's using her heartrending to look over your hip and thigh area, and Inej realizes the predicament that the novice healer has to deal with.

There's an artery that runs through the inner thigh. If it's hit, it's almost just as deadly as the side of your neck being slit open. The bullet managed to hit within that area, and a tightly bound blood-soaked piece of fabric was keeping pressure on the wound. Probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out.

"It's been nicked. But the bullet seems to still be in you. I'll have to do my best to heal it while also trying to direct it out of your body." Nina doesn't even give you a moment to process it, immediately loosening the fabric.

Blood begins to gush from your wound, and Inej wants to scream.

Jesper follows your lead and digs his palms into his eyes. Kaz stands a good few feet from the table, watching the whole thing unfold. And Inej is...

She walks up to the side of the table, reaching out and brushing her finger through your hair.

"It'll be done soon, yeah?" She asks thought not really expecting an answer, watching your temple flex and your skin turn red as you held your breath. A rough scream escapes your lungs when you open your throat, gulping in as much air as possible before you go back under.

A small tink sounds against the table, bullet out. But Nina is sweating, glowing under candle light as she stitches everything she can back together.

"The bullets out. The only thing you have to do is wait for Nina to be done putting you together again and then you'll be done."

Healing, while ever so helpful, was far from painless. You're speeding up your body's natural process, your skin, muscles, veins being stitched back together on a cellular level.

A highly trained grisha healer could probably numb you while doing so. But Nina is not that.

Inej wants to be mad at her for being so inept when it comes to this. For not having the ability to just repair you with practiced ease and get this over with.

But she can't. She can't be mad at Nina for being who she is.

Instead she's grateful that Nina is here at all. Otherwise you'd be-

Saints, she doesn't want to think about it.

"What went wrong?" Inej asks, taking your hands away from your eyes when beads of blood build on your forehead. "This was supposed to be simple."

You grip her hands tightly. She squeezes them right back, hoping she's providing some sort of relief as she prays for your life.

"Simple doesn't cut it when your intel becomes outdated." Kaz snarled. "They changed the guard postings on the inside. We got found out shortly after retrieving this."

He pulls out a rolled up painting from a tube slung over a chair. It's a landscape of what looks to be from Fjerdan territory looking beyond towards Ravka. The Shadow Fold is missing, and in the distance she can see the artist took some creative liberties and drew the Ravkan palace.

"Supposed to be worth over ten times what we were getting paid for." Jesper uncovers his eyes, opting to cover his mouth and nose. "Doesnt really seem worth it for this."

He glances at Kaz, but Kaz looks at her, and in those dark brown eyes she feels like they come to an understanding. Kaz knows things that Inej hasnt bothered to voice to him outloud. He knows how she feels about you, and is probably just about the only person that on some level could come close to feeling the way she does now.

You're way too important to lose.

Nina let's out a deep breath, hands becoming slower and less steady. "I've got this mostly patched up, but for now the artery is pretty weak. I've got most of the muscles around it to heal to protect what it can but rest and the least amount of movement as possible while I monitor this for the next few days is whats needed."

Inej feels you relax, hands no longer squeezing the life out of her own. Your elbows knock against the table, foot wiggling on your injured leg.

You swallow. "Okay."

Inej has never heard you sound so small, which is surprising.

This isn't your first time getting injured like this, though it has been a long time. But even now she can remember you fighting them every step of the way when you were asked to rest.

Now you're more compliant than ever. You're not even making a move to sit up.

Kaz clears his throat. "Jesper, Nina, out."

Inej can hear Jesper get up from the chair, all too ready to get away from the situation. Nina, however, is less ready to vacate your side.

"I want to check over the rest of her for any other injuries you may have missed in your getaway plan." She places her hands over your head, slowly moving down your body.

"There are no other injuries. It was just the bullet. Out."

Jesper is already up the stairs, probably to find Wylan. She knows he'll come back later, once he's calmed down and can properly look you in the eye after being faced with your mortality. Nina gets down to your feet, and sighs.

"Just wanted to make sure your girlfriend-"

At the same time, you and Kaz state that you're not together. Your voice is a lot sharper than Kaz's, which is enough for Nina to whip around and give you a look.

You're sat up now, propped up on your elbows as you glare at her.

"I would really appreciate it if you stopped pushing us together, thanks."

Your hand squeezes Inej's, and it's like her heart gets zapped with a little lightning.

Nina eyes you for a moment, expression a little hurt but otherwise reserved as she searches for something.

When she looks at Inej, it seems she found it.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth falls into a little 'o' as she backs up. "How could I have missed that?"

Before Inej can silently ask what that means, she's smirking and basically running up the stairs.

Kaz collects his things, then gives Inej and you a nod before following.

The door above clicks shut, and a bound of wild creaking from above tells her that a few people were crowding around the door and waiting for news.

You squeeze her hand again, and Inejs attention is all on you.

"How bad is it?" You ask.

Inej swallows, then looks down. There's a mess of reds and purple around where the wound is. It's smaller than before, skin a little malformed where Nina put everything back together.

"It looks like you got shot."

You chuckle, moving to sit up completely. Inej helps you were she's needed, letting you use her to pull yourself up and position yourself without using your leg.

Silence followed. Your hand was still holding Inej's, your thumb going over rough spots on her palms. Your finger would stop, finding a spot that was particularly rough, and then smooth over it as if you could make it disappear.

"Thank you."

Her brows scrunch. "For what?"

"For staying."

"Of course."

You take a deep breath, exhale coming out shaky. Before Inej can ask what was the matter, you begin talking.

"I like you." You say. "I like you a lot, and I have for a while. Long enough that I can't be in a room alone without automatically looking for even though I know you won't be there. Enough that about half the time when I feel like you're watching me I'm right, and I can pick you out from the crowd."

Inej is smiling. She can feel it on her face, eyes pricking and ears ringing just a bit.

"Kaz has gotten so sick of me talking about you to the point he actually has resorted to knocking his cane against me when I sigh too loudly or when your name comes out of my mouth for the tenth time in a minute." A chuckle comes out of your mouth when you go to rub at a bruise on your shin. "He doesnt mean to be harsh but I think he forgets how solid his cane is sometimes."

She's laughs, the same as you do when she pulls your hand towards her and presses it against her chest, heart saying everything and more.

But words matter too.

"I like you too. For what sounds like just as long as you have. Believe me if I had known you liked girls I wouldn't have let you torture Kaz for as long as you did."

"What do you say? Girlfriends?" You let go of her hand and hold out your fist.

She bumps her fist against yours. "Girlfriends."

She loves the way your eyes brighten.

However, she does not love that the door to the room comes open again.

The distinct sound of metal on wood tells the both of you immediately who it is. While Inej's annoyance only slightly decreases, yours disappears immediately.

"Kaz!"

"Y/n."

"Look!" You gently offer your hand, and Inej slips her fingers between yours, interlocking them. "We're dating. Inej likes me back."

He rounds the corner, looking at the both of your hands. He puts up his shoulders, raising an eyebrows.

"And im actively disabled. Dont waste my time with the obvious."

You chuckle. "Thanks, Kaz."

While Kaz mulls over whether it's worth it to stay down here, Inej helps you off the table, easing your leg down to the ground where it remains limp.

"Oh my saints, twinsies."

Inej looks between you and Kaz. Your limp leg is the same as his.

"If I ever hear you say twinsies again, you will lose me as your friend."

"Impossible."

Kaz takes that as a challenge, and moves up the stairs faster than she has ever seen him go.

As you call out to him to get his ass back here, Inej takes a moment to think about how perfect everything is.

Your leg may be out of commission, but you're happier than she has ever seen you before. You asked her to be your girlfriend, and still you're gentle and wait for permission. She's giggling as you do when you trip a little and catch yourself on the step.

She's so incredibly happy to be where she is today. And even more excited to figure out where the both of you will go from here.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell @venomsvl @milkshake0

#ask #inej ghafa x y/n #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa x you #inej ghafa imagine #inej ghafa fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #grishaverse x you #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x y/n #fanfic #morrigan-crowmwell

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lohstandfound · 8 months ago

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🥝🍔🍊

this got kinda long so

🥝Who are your literary influences, and have they shaped your own writing? I've said it before how M.L. Rio influenced the way I write dialogue. And playwrights and poets in general have had a slight influence on my fiction writing.

It feels easier to list influenced for my poetry. The main one for poetry is probably essa may ranapiri. Their first poetry collection, ransack, was focused on exploring gender through a non binary lens. Their second poetry collection, Echidna, is a mash up of Greek and Māori mythology and Christianity.

Also, in regards to poetry (mostly). My museum studies lecturers placed so much emphasis on being poetic and creative and bring wordsmiths when it came to writing assignments I had to convince myself to not write a 2000 word poem for a material culture study. However, the assignments focused on making museum labels gave me an idea for a poetry collection of writing museum labels for people I know. (Also, everything about my museum studies degree has 100% influenced deities au and I don't think I tried to hide that)

🍔What's a headcanon that hasn't made it into a published fic yet? I think most things find their way into a fic??

I think the only thing I haven't put into a fic is a potential concept for a few character's cultural heritage that is very much me projecting and very self-indulgent. The one I've put the most thought into is Jake and it is. Very much. Me projecting similar circumstances. I made a post about it a total of one time ages ago.

It stemmed from a random thought I had that if bmc was set in new Zealand, Jeremy and Michael would 100% go to Armageddon (which I guess is basically like comic con or any other convention). To which it lead me on a train of thought of what else would it look like if it was set in NZ and one of those concepts involved imagining them as Māori. The only one that really stuck with putting the characters back in, y'know, new jersey was Jake being white passing Māori with a huge disconnect from his whakapapa, knowing next to nothing about it. I have a lot of thoughts on it. But. y'know. Self indulgent projecting headcanons that will never make it into a fic. so ive never properly talked about it

in summary, i dont think there's a headcanon that i haven't managed to put into a fic yet.

🍊What's a story that changed significantly from its initial idea to the final draft? The basis of the poets fic is the same: Michael, Jake, Brooke, and Rich make up a poet quartet, working together to workshop poems and spitball ideas and perform at open mic nights. There's still a few unresolved issues between Jeremy and Michael, and Brooke and Chloe. And the poems are still the same.

The original version was so much more rushed and was resolved by Jake and Christine tricking everyone into a group therapy session.

I figured I could do it better, make it less rushed and actually take the time for mostly Jeremy Michael Brooke and Chloe to work out their feelings. Jeremy and Michael have already started, but I have plans for Brooke and Chloe (and Jake).

(In my mind, Rich and Jake have already worked through everything. Brooke and Jake are super close in this fic and I imagine Jake has written so many poems about Rich as a way of processing (what's this? Jake Dillinger has a healthy coping mechanism?) so by the time Rich approaches the trio to ask for help with his own poems, Jake doesn't hold as much anger and is much more willing to talk things through with Rich).

But now that I've taken it so far from the original plot, I'm not sure where it's going. I have a plan for an argument between Brooke and Chloe, and I want a Jake-centred chapter (but I need to write a Jake poem first)

#lohst.txt #ask tag #theabyssgazesalsointoyou

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martinsorbit · 9 months ago

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Já pensou em criar sua própria historia? tipo escrever uma AU de FNAF SB?

(Desculpe o incomodo)

[PTBR] Sim!! Tenho pelo menos umas 3 AUS de FNAF SB na vdd kkkk Todas elas (Finders Keepers, Inscryption DCA AU, e uma meio Y/N shitpost) centralizadas no DCA pq eles são meus queridos.

Eu desenho e de vez em quando escrevo pra essas AUs, mas como não sou um escritor mt bom, a possibilidade de existir uma fic no AO3 com mts capítulos sobre cada AU é bem baixa :-/ por enquanto fico só nos desenhos msm (com umas snippets de vez em nunca)

E Fica dboas! n é incomodo n <3 obrigado pelo ask! -------- [ENG] Yes!! I actually have at least 3 AUs for FNAF SB lol; All of them (Finders Keepers, Inscryption DCA AU, and a Y/N shitpost one) are centered around the DCA cuz they are my blorbos

I draw and sometimes write for these AUs, but since I'm not that good of a writer, the possibility of an AO3 fic with multiple chapters existing is pretty low :-/ For now I'll just kinda have to stick with the drawings (with some writing snippets every now and then)

Also dw! You're not bothering me at all <3 thanks for the ask!

#espero ter responding sua pergunta dierito #meu cerebro anda tao desligado esses dias #E DESCULPA PELA ATRASO </3333 #ask box #askbox #ask

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olwrat · 10 months ago

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My biggest mistake is having procrastinated two years ago on my decision about learning how to draw and went to write instead. Nowdays I have to write a whole 2k fic so I can get rid of that one(1) single scene of tfgraves in my mind.

I'll write it soon (probably) anyway, because I really want to write dumb silly drunk Tobias

(foto dos dois por que essa arte é fofa demais para não ser compartilhada)

(My mind is torn between writing about these two first or about Trynda and Ashe help)

#o famoso 'alugou um triplex na minha cabeça“#league of legends #lol memes #tf x graves #I already made the promise to learn the basics about drawing this year #or else i'll force myself into writing a damn long fic about these two meeting each other

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lostcauses-noregrets · 2 years ago

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Olá. Li no wattpad uma fanfic muito boa eruri, mas descobri que o escritor estava plagiando uma obra já existente, mas nunca encontrei essa obra original. Queria saber se você já viu. onde Levi é professor universitário e ômega, por causa de uma lei chamada "esperança", ele é forçado a se casar com Erwin que é um alto. eles ainda têm um filho chamado Ciel. . eles ainda um filho chamado Ciel. eles ainda um filho chamado Ciel. A história do wattpad não acabou, por isso quero tanto achar. foi uma história que foi elaborada, então o original deve ser em inglês…

have you ever seen something similar? sorry for my bad english, i'm brazilian.🤗 thank you❤

Hello @guedes-escritora, thank you for your ask. I'm guessing Google translate didn't work as intended here, so I've tried again...

Hello. I read a very good eruri fanfic on wattpad, but I found out that the writer was plagiarizing an existing work, but I never found this original work. I wanted to know if you've seen it. where Levi is a university professor and omega, because of a law called "hope", he is forced to marry Erwin who is a high. they even have a son named Ciel. The wattpad story isn't over, that's why I want to find it so badly. it was a story that was worked out, so the original must be in English…

Ooft. What a mess. This situation I mean, not your ask. Believe it or not, I actually managed to find the original version of this fic, it's called Hopeless and it's on AO3. The bad news is that the fic is orphaned, unfinished, and was last updated in 2015. There also seems to be significant differences from the Wattpad fic. There's no son for a start, at least not as far as I can tell from skimming through it. I'm guessing what's happened is that an unscrupulous writer has found the orphaned fic and decided to pass it off as their own, while adding their own elements to it. I mean there's no law against re-writing another author's work, all fan fics are transformative works after all, but ripping off someone else's work, without crediting the original, is really shitty which ever way you look at it.

#asks #eruri #fic rec #snk

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misguidedasgardian · 2 years ago

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you said you like to post at night to wake up to notifications... please don't stop. I wake up early every damn day and literally grab my phone and open Tumblr to read new chapters

Essa fic está tornando meus dias chatos mais divertidos porque continuo pensando em teorias e basicamente odiando Harwin e amando meus filhos fictícios

jijiji yes and also I do write more at night! so it's cool! hahaha yeaih! ❤️❤️ Oh that's amazing thank you so much!

Ohhh our fictional babies I love them too! 🥹 I'm so happy! and i'm so happy I'm making your days, it truly means the world to me!

Muchas muchas gracias! ❤️❤️

#misguidedhotd

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areyouwell · 3 months ago

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in case you're wondering phobophobia is at 69.5k words. nice.

you are doing god's work and i am forever in your debt

nice

#essa's inbox #the lovelies #lovely anon<3 #im cryin #that you took time out of your day #to calculate this #not all heroes wear capes #some calculate the number of words your fic is on #hehehehe sex number #i should write a short to commemorate the occasion...

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arisukingdom · 11 months ago

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Hey guys as part of my self-compassion exercise of this year I decided to fill this fun template here too.

This was my first year writing fanfiction in decades, and the first time in my whole life writing so much in English, my mother language is Portuguese and still I wrote so much! 16 fanfics only this year, 33298 words!!!

Tried NaNoWriMo, failed but I tried anyway, I made a lot of new friends in the Inuyasha fandom, two of them I meet offline!!! I got the courage to go to the Anime Friends after decades and it was amazing!!! And going with a friend from fandom was even better!

It is so nice to see that my first ever fanfic in English is my most loved one! I love my little inu shenanigans, I did write way too much fluff this year, my last fic was almost 7k words of pure Inukog fluff (by the way my second most popular fic was my first inukog piece! So much love for a repair!).

But my favorite fic was the one that wasn't all fluff, on monster in law I've got to experiment with some angst and present to the world some of my dearest headcanons about Sesshounaru and inukimi, I love this fic so much!!

This year was very good on the writing part, I feel a little depressed for most of it and I don't think I was productive in some other important areas of my life such as work, but looking at how much I accomplished this year I know I can do better in other areas too!

I hope I can improve on my writing in 2024, to write a lot of inu family fluff but maybe try harder things like action and even smut!

Ps: thank you all people from the discord servers from the @feudalconnection, the inukag server, the kogkag server, the Sesskag server and the Inuyasha book club server! Y'all made this year great for me!

Ps2: vlw Tai-chan, eu num sei teu tumblr ma tu nem usa essa bagaça aqui msm, you are the best beta on the whole world!!

What a fun idea! Thanks for sharing this @clearwillow !

A lot of the words added this year were transitioning stories from FFnet, but especially the last couple of months, I've been able to write quite a bit. It was fun to see that reflected in the numbers!

I hope to keep it up in the new year!

Credit to @spicedrobot for the template!

Blank template below the cut!

#inuyasha #Fanfiction #My fanfiction #my year in review

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essawrites · 6 years ago

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Time Travel - Excerpts From a Book I’ll Never Write

"No. I want you to explain this to me. You're dragging me around 'coz of it, least you can do is explain it."

His expression was mulish as he planted his feet and refused to move. She released his wrist, frowning as he folded his - now free - arms over his chest, rocking back onto his heels in a wordless I'm-not-moving. She raised an eyebrow at that, amused despite herself. Clearly he'd always been that stubborn. Though, judging by the way he set his jaw and jutted his chin out, he hadn't always been able to read amusement on people - or at least not her.

"Fine," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She missed his look of victory at getting his way, too busy taking stock of their current location. They were in an alley off a busy road - not the kind of place she even wanted to hint at the topic. She directed her gaze back, locking eyes with him, willing him to understand how serious she was being.

"However, I can't explain here. We have to move." Seeing him about to object, she raised a hand. "Just far enough that we're out of immediate danger. Once we're safer, I swear I'll explain things a bit better."

She watched his reaction, judging whether or not he'd go for it. Based on his scowl, he didn't want to agree.

"Alright." It was ground out from between his teeth, face as unchanging as if it had been carved from stone. She smirked at his tone. It seemed he'd always been grumpy, gruff. She was surprised by the next words out of his mouth. "But you'd better not be lyin'."

She frowned slightly at the implied doubt in her, hurt. Why would he…? Oh. Right. He didn't know her yet. Swallowing down her response, she tried to smile reassuringly at him. From the narrowing of his eyes, he found something off about it, even if he didn't know precisely what. She stamped down the feelings of loss his inability to read and trust her had brought back up.

"Glad we're in agreement!" She deliberately made her words bright, needing him not to dig his heels in further. Not when she could already feel the phantom scratch between her shoulder blades. They couldn't afford to delay any further. Looping her elbow through his, fingers wrapped around his wrist, she continued. "On we go then!"

XxxxX

She barely holds back the flinch as the boy in front of her takes his mug. Waving him towards the small table, she focused on the mug in her hands. Rotating it within her grip to avoid looking at the boy - man, not a boy, he's a man - in his chair with his mug. Just because he's not him yet doesn't mean he's a child, she internally chastises. Though, how he was when I met him makes far more sense now.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she looks up at the bo- man sitting across from her. Now that they weren't rushing, panicked, she takes the time to really look at him. Her face tightens at what she sees.

Dishevelled brown hair, probably a few shades lighter than it looked due to the grime. Skin tone… about the same, based on what little was visible. Frayed clothing, but carefully layered. A dark hoodie was on the top, serving to keep him warm and hide the condition of his clothes - and perhaps hide his arms? Her lips thin as she considers his minute response to her grabbing him. His walls up, desperation high, fighting to keep himself safe. Based on how he holds his frame, he's tired, aching, and very hungry. The wariness and almost- fear present as he looks at her and away, cataloguing the space around him as though expecting an attack. His fingers almost bone-white with how tightly he's gripping the mug. It's only barely on the table, pulled as close to him as it is. It twists something in her chest to see him like this.

(No teal hair, no confidence, no cocky smirk, no pride, no carefully chosen clothes, no weapons, no feeling of safety, no security, no trust, no control, just defensiveness, snarling like a cornered animal, it hurts to see him like this, why-)

She breathes deep, settling the burning thing in her chest. He won't appreciate interference, she reminds herself. He doesn't know you, doesn't trust you. He has no reason to. Not yet, anyway. Abruptly, she raises her drink, needing something to do with her hands to prevent herself from reaching out. His eyes immediately return to her at the jarring movement. It breaks the calm that had settled unsteadily on the room.

Carefully lowering the mug, she rests her arms on the table in front of her. She nods at the mug he hasn't let go of yet, but also hasn't drunk from. "You can drink it, ya know." Her voice is soft, one side of her lips quirked up. He flushes lightly, scowl deepening. Anyone else wold only be likely to notice the scowl. Before he could snap back, she continues.

"We're gonna be here a while. I mean, I did promise to explain things to you. And, well. This isn't exactly a simple explanation. I know more than others, yeah, but…" She trails off, trying to figure out how to phrase things so that they would make sense. She misses the warily amused look the other shoots at her over the rim of the mug in his hands. Her head straightens from its contemplative tilt, expression clearing as she comes to a decision.

"Right. So. What do you know about Time?"

Seeing the look of confusion painting his face, she hurries to elaborate. "Not like, Stephen Hawking levels of theory, just, how you understand it." She feels her face scrunching in exasperation at his continued confusion.

"Ok. So, that isn't helpful. Right. How about… You know how we define Time? One second, one minute, one hour… All very definite. It is what it is. We know exactly how long each period of time lasts. This is constant, unchanging. However."

She pauses, taking stock of his comprehension. He seems to be following her explanation so far, if seeming dubious as to why, exactly, she is explaining this to him. At her pause, he meets her eyes, gesturing as if to say yes-and?-I-thought-there-was-a-point-to-this? Smiling, she continues.

"However," she repeats. "That is not at all how we perceive Time." His look of understanding fades, reverting to his earlier confusion. She powers on, watching his face to see when he's got it again. "We don't perceive Time as it is; we perceive Time as it affects us. Five minutes doing something enjoyable is gone exceedingly swiftly. Five minutes doing something you despise… it seems unending. You see? We define time strictly, but perceive it fluidly." She waits for him to respond. He nods slowly, brow furrowed. Frustration flickers across his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, I - I get that. Kinda. But- What's the point you're making?"

"The point I'm making," she answered, "is that there's a reason for the dichotomy - difference," she corrects, catching his expression. "Between how we define Time and how we perceive it. Haven't you ever wondered? How we can be so certain about it, with our fluid relationship with it?"

By the end of her questions, she's leaning forward, focused. He rears back a little at her intent gaze, his eyebrows rising. The prior frustration returns, colouring his posture and expression.

"No?" he ventures, voice hardening. "I mean, I've kinda had other shit to think about, so…" He looks at her pointedly. His frame tightens, showcasing his discomfort and mounting frustration. She sits back, frowning at the reminder of how she'd found him.

"Right, my apologies. But-"

"Ya know, I've been really patient so far," he interrupts, unimpressed, his frustration clearly climbing by the second. "I let you drag me around, 'coz you promised me an explanation at the end of it. And now you're telling me to consider Time?" He shoots to his feet, having passed from frustration to fury. "Are you having a laugh?!"

She rises. Delicately, she lays a hand palm-first on the table. "Sit down." Her voice is soft, almost achingly gentle. He stalls at the oddness of her tone when compared to his. "Wha-"

"Sit down."

This time it is clearly an order, her voice dark, and promising retribution on any who disobey.

He sits.

"Good," is her only response. She smooths a hand down her thigh, looking slightly abashed. Returning to her seat, a smile forms on her face. It gives the unsettling impression of being all teeth.

"Now," she says, voice pleasant. "I can understand your getting frustrated at my seemingly irrelevant information. Nevertheless, I assure you that what I'm telling you is, in fact, relevant to the situation at hand. I have been attempting to clarify the background information required for the explanation to make any sense. You want the short answer? Fine. Time-travel."

She leans back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. Her face is utterly blank. He sputters, face adorned with an expression of incredulity.

"Time- Time-travel?! What kind of an explanation is that?"

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levi-my-beloved · 2 years ago

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it's so odd how a single unsavoury comment can completely fuck up your motivation and drive to continue.

like, this may be precious, i've never really received any hateful or like, yeah unsavoury comments until now.

like how tf do people deal with these?

PSA, if you want to look for other, alternate fics to my own, don't ask in my comments...

like, ouch??????

#essa's shenanigans #please lmk if i'm overreacting but like #fr???? asking for fic alternatives in my comments???#specifically for the series i'm writing??????#IS IT ME?!?!?!?!?!?!#AM I THE DRAMA?!?!?!?!?!

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essagandana · 7 years ago

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Down the Rabbit Hole

[OC-Insert] It almost seemed fitting that after a life spent reading, and later writing fiction, she'd end up reborn in one. Once-Evelyn, Now-Alice, plans to make it further than 25 years into her new life. Figuring out that her older brother is that James Bond… throws a bit of a wrench in her vague plans of recreating her Before-life. Dealing with (read: suppressing) the issues she has from Before-her's life, she sets herself up a life where she can keep an eye on her reckless brother, and make sure that the stories Before-her remembers didn't just take artistic licence with his improbable survivals. Her brother was going to live to see retirement, dammit!

Chapter 1

Setting The Scene, or, Pre-Canon Shenanigans

Alice Bond is born in the early hours of the morning, November 14th, 1972. She is the second child, and only daughter, of Monique and Andrew Bond. She is preceded by an older brother, James, born April 13th, 1968

Evelyn Lott was born late at night, December 21st, 1999. She was the first child of Jessamine and Hamish Lott. She was followed by two younger brothers; Meredith, born March 25th, 2002, and Lucian, born August 31st, 2010.

Monique and Andrew Bond die in a climbing accident whilst in the Aiguille de la Persévérance, 1979. Alice is 7 years old.

Evelyn Lott died in a plane crash, bought down mid-flight by three terrorists with smartphones, 2024. Evelyn was 25 years old.

---

Alice Greer Bond is seven when her new life shatters like so much spun glass.

She's with James, trying to focus on the conjugation sheet she's supposed to be doing whilst he tries to cajole her into sneaking out the window and exploring. Or going into the garage. Or building a pillow fort. Or sneaking through the priest hole to the chapel. Or- He stops abruptly as the door opens, but breathes a sigh of relief when it's revealed to be just Kincaid. He turns back to her, mischievous grin in place, but it slowly furrows into a frown at the look on her face. She's not taken her eyes off Kincaid since she looked up. Her face slowly gets more ashen, as he stands in the doorway, running the brim of his hat through his hands, face set, eyes achingly sad for them. James slowly looks between the two of them. For an endless moment, no-one says anything. Clutching her brother's arm with a death grip, she clears her throat.

"Kincaid. What… What happened?"

"I jus' got a call from the base camp on that mountain ya parents went ta climb." He halts, seemingly unwilling to continue. Her grip on James' arm tightens. She stares at the groundskeeper, unblinkingly, until he heaves a sigh and continues. She feels James jolt back beside her as he realises what coming.

"There… There was a storm. Abou' a week back. And… ya parents never checked back in. So. They sent a recovery team up after them, but. They didn't…"

He trails off again, gaze dropping. She feels her blood turn to ice, numbing her mind. Distantly, she realises she can feel James shaking. There's a frenzied, desperate thing in his voice as he speaks up.

"V-Very funny Kincaid. When are they coming back? If there was a storm… they have to come back. They have to."

Kincaid doesn't respond for a moment, desolately still. He looks up, passed her to him.

"Oh Lad…"

"NO! No, you're lying, you have to be lying! They can't be-"

She can almost feel how his voice cuts out, unable to finish the sentence. They can't be dead. Turning her gaze, she sees the wild, grieving thing that's taken control of him. Abruptly bursting into motion, he rips his arm from her grip, and sprints away. She can almost hear the wounded howl trying to tear out of his throat. She sits where he left her, numb with shock. Not again, is all she can think. Not again.

Kincaid's large hand on her shoulder jolts her back into herself. Looking up, she attempts a smile of gratitude, but knows it comes out as more of a grimace. Blinking, her mind catches up with current events. She bursts from her seat and tears after her brother, a cry of Jem! on her lips. Eventually, she catches up to him. He's in the priest hole, halfway between the house and the chapel. She can hear him almost as soon as she enters. Biting her lip, she climbs back out to get- Kincaid is in the entrance to the room. When she meets his gaze, he holds up a torch and a blanket. With a watery smile, she flings her arms around him in a brief hug, takes the offering and climbs back down to join her brother.

It hurts her soul to hear the almost keening noise he's releasing as she gets close. She scuffs a pebble to make sure he can hear her approach. He doesn't even look up, his pain almost subvocal. She drops down next to him, draping the blanket around the two of them. Reaching an arm out around him, she leans against his side. Waiting.

Not long after, he shifts, hauling her into a hug, burying his tears in her shoulder. She feels something fracture. Clinging just as tightly, she buries her face in the junction of his neck, twin trails of tears trickling down her face. Neither of the move for a long time.

It takes two days for them to return to the lodge.

---

When they resurface, grubby, exhausted, and emotionally drained, they've changed. James is more reckless, more devil-may-care in his antics. Harder than he was before. Colder. She's quieter than she'd been in a while. She throws herself into what she remembers from Before. Once is coincidence. Twice is happenstance. Three times is a conspiracy. Her brother's name. The lodge's name. Their parents' death. There is no more pretending that this is anything other than what it is.

She can't afford to slack off. This is her brother.

---

Athair had arranged for James to go to Eton when he was twelve. She had almost a year left of home-tutoring with him before he'd be gone for most of the year. She refuses to lose anyone else. She's lost enough people, she can't lose him as well. She has until she turns eleven to have near total say over what she's learning, so that can be put on the back-burner until she loses access to her brother.

The basic outline of a plan forming in her mind, she gently bullies Kincaid. He grudgingly lets them spend time with the guns, helping them learn how to shoot everything from hunting rifles to hand guns. She swallows thickly at the sharp reminder of Athair, who couldn't shoot very well with anything but a hunting rifle, yet collected guns of all shapes and sizes anyway. As well as small explosives. James takes to it with a grim determination, but quickly becomes a very good shot. He seems to take an almost savage pleasure in hitting all the targets with every gun he can get his hands on. She settles for being a good-enough shot with the rifles.

Kincaid won't let them learn to shoot without also learning how to maintain the guns, which leads nicely to her wheedling him into teaching them about cars and heavy machinery. James doesn't have as much interest in that yet, but she learns, with an almost religious fervour, how to fix engines. She knows James will pay more attention when he can get his hands on the parts of something fast, and intends to make sure she can keep him from crashing immediately when he does.

She'd worry a little more about how focused she was becoming on making sure that her brother stayed alive, stayed safe if she didn't have a fair idea what was coming in his life. Also, he was starting to display similar tendencies. Subverting authority, learning things he really probably shouldn't as an eleven-year-old, keeping track of her, of her safety as though she'll disappear when he loses sight of her.

---

Both of them are a little… upset when James leaves for Eton.

Whilst he's there, he stats to hone his ability to get out of, on top of, and around buildings without detection. He doesn't want to spend all night in his room, so he starts by climbing out of his window and shimmying down the drainpipe. He doesn't get very far the first few times, being unceremoniously returned to his room by staff. It isn't until he tries going up that he starts to get away with it. It isn't until he falls asleep on a flat portion of the roof and get seen by one of the professors that he really starts getting into trouble for it. He likes the freedom of it, so he doesn't stop. The staff are tearing their hair out over trying to get one twelve-year-old boy to behave. The rest of his class seem to find it irritating and amusing by turns. His letters to her reveal his smugness at their exasperation. Visits see details revealed, laughter shared, and plots made.

The maid thing was an accident. It was also the final straw.

He gets kicked out at the end of the year.

---

When James comes home from Eton after being kicked out, head held high, Kincaid just kind of… sighs heavily. He's started the application for Fettes. He also seems to think that he's been hiding the fact that custody issues are starting to rear their heads due to inheritance issues. Alice found some of the records, copies of Mueti and Athair's wills, the bills, things like that. She's glad that they planned well for their education. Aunt Charmain is their guardian in name, but that's not going enormously well. She's starting to resent being stuck in the country with a niece and nephew she barely knows, and doesn't seem to want to know. Kincaid might've though he kept the details of it, and how he's desperately trying to find them another legal guardian a secret, but Alice knows. She knows. And she will never forgive Charmain Bond for the words spoken when she didn't realise anyone could hear.

Alice is overjoyed to get to spend more time with her brother. As kind of a precocious nine-year-old, she drags James off to see what she'd been doing that he's missed. Presenting him with the engine she's fixed, he's suitably impressed. He's more confused than anything else when she shows him the partially deconstructed Apple II in what was Athair's office, surrounded by reams of notes and books and manuals. She'd been finding trying to understand variants on 70's tech much harder to do than she'd thought it'd be. She's been dreaming longingly of the smartphones, tablets, and touchscreen laptops she grew up with Before. She misses the internet.

---

She misses her Before-family like a missing limb, like a hole in her chest, even now. Even after dying, and being born, and gaining a new family, and losing half of it. She misses Merry, who was the grumpiest, snarkiest person ever, who'd've been able to make her laugh. She misses Luc, who'd start babbling on about technological advancements, and prototype AI, and how smartphones and internet worked, bright-eyed and exited. She misses her Before-parents, Madre who taught English to Diplomat's children and Papa who ranted and raved about physics. She misses Before-her, the aspiring author, working in records. She misses her Before-home, her Before-life, with its much simpler, easier times.

She misses it so much sometimes she can barely breathe.

Those are the times Kincaid offers rough affection and her favourite foods. The times James looks at her with ill-concealed worry in his eyes, and tries to tease her out of her funk, pull her into adventures, expeditions. The times he just sits with her, a solid, unobtrusive presence, not demanding anything, just there. She can't help but love him a little more for the fact he never trues to force her to explain it. She has no idea what she'd say if he did.

She decides, this time, that she's going to be productive about it. Before-her, Lynn, had had jewellery, and wall art, but also a couple of tattoos. So Alice sit down, and starts planning tattoos. She's pretty sure the law as it stands prohibits tattoos until 18, so she has 9 years to plan them out perfectly. As she stares down at the basics of a design for each part of her, everything she's lost, she feels… lighter. Like Before is letting her go - or at least, is letting her live her life.

With light heart, and lighter smile, she bounces off to go catch her brother. He's only going to be here five more weeks after all.

---

They go on a skiing/mountain climbing trip after James' first year at Fettes (which he definitely seems to prefer, she notes, pleased). The only thing that gets her on that plane is the knowledge that technology isn't sufficiently advanced enough for the same thing that killed Before-her to happen. They bump into the Oberhausers. James is pleased, remembering group trips with Mueti, Athair and them. Alice is… a little warier, recalling how the story goes. But, they meet up, and spend time together, and it's all actually quite pleasant. Hannes takes James under his wing again after three years of no contact. Franz is… not particularly happy. He hides it well, under jokes, but there is a flash of something when he sees his father acting around James in a manner usually reserved for him.

Alice wasn't expecting to like Franz at all, memories of the story filling her mind. But, actually… He was wonderfully sarcastic, and clever. He just had a bit of a mean streak. As Monique and Andrew had died when she was seven, and thus too young to have come on any of the trips, she'd only met the Oberhausers occasionally. Franz, being 8 years older than James, and thus 12 years older than her, had never really been someone she'd spent much time with. On this trip, however, she got to know him a bit better.

She also doesn't miss the considering looks Hannes occasionally gets when he thinks none of them can see him. She'd heard him talking to who she thinks was Kincaid about them, and custody, but she's not certain. As she spends more time with them, she starts to appreciate them.

Hannes is genuinely nice, some of the time. He might be a little condescending and misogynistic, but she's a nine-verging-on-ten-year-old girl in the 80's. It's kind of to be expected. And he listens, and tries to spend time with her, despite clearly floundering on how to treat a little girl. He gets on much better with James. And James is laughing, and smiling, and losing some of the brittlest edges to his eyes and grin, so she'd be willing to overlook a lot more than she is.

Franz… Franz is interesting. He's clever, so clever, and in training to become military, and has a degree in Psychology. He's also got quite the head for business, and is more than capable of charming the resort staff into giving him what he wants. But there's that flash of malice, when he looks at James and Hannes together. There's the cruel glee when he tricks the other people at the resort into doing something that's a bad idea. There's the way most of his emotions look just a little off, like he's wearing a painted face instead of his real one.

She teases him. It's all she can think to do. Poke at him, distract him, until he's more focused on (slightly cruel) banter with her than he is on the fact that Hannes spends a lot of time with James now, on what was supposed to be a trip with just the two of them. It sort of works. He seems to swing between looking through her, and looking at her as a curiosity. She needles him into teaching her chess. She wheedles him into sitting with her in the café area and judging people. She asks him for information about places he's been, things he's done. She tells him about reworking the Apple II, learning how to put the engine of the Rover back together. Sometimes it works, and the spark in his eye is interest, or (cruel) enjoyment. Sometimes it doesn't, and the spark is malice, or he's in a black mood, and presenting endless, empty charm.

She makes sure that Franz and James don't spend too long alone together. She gets a little of Hannes attention, gets him to help teach her how to ski. She grabs James and drags him off to learn snowboarding with her, giving the Oberhausers some uninterrupted time together. It's more of a rush than the basic skiing that she's been doing is. James seems to enjoy it too.

At the end of the holiday, he talks with James; Alice wasn't invited, but can guess what it was about. He looks thoughtful on the way back to Skyfall, and drags her with him to talk to Kincaid. By the time he returns for his next year at Fettes, it's organised. They're the legal wards of Hannes Oberhauser.

Charmain doesn't even wait two days to go off on a trip.

---

Life as Hannes ward is… odd. She's stayed at Skyfall Lodge, which she's thankful for, but he calls her at least every week to check up on her. She's been left mostly to her own devices. The film that seems to be here's version of Star Wars IV premiers; on a holiday, she goes to see it with James and Hannes on a home weekend. 'The Balance: Second Coming' seems to be similar idea to Star Wars. The overall ideas and story are roughly the same, even if the terms and designs are different. She wonders for a moment what that means for other fiction she remembers. Flicking through the television guide when she gets back to see if she can find a version of Doctor Who, she finds 'Master of Time'. Which… tales of wacky adventures from the Master's point of view? She decides that she's going to start watching it. Wonders if this means there'll be a book series about young Dumbledore or Tom Riddle. She resolves to keep an eye out for anything like it.

James told her he'd started boxing. She smiled and told him not to lose too many brain cells. He'd cuffed the back of her head in response, but they'd both laughed.

She'd asked for, and received a Commodore 64 personal computer for her birthday. She'd read the manual, gone over the notes from the frankenstein-ed Apple II and figured out how to take it apart and put it back together. Getting hold of information about the programming was harder, but far from impossible. She made sure she kept meticulous notes as she went along, to ensure that she could refer back to them later if need be. Her heart ached a little, thinking of Luc and how much he'd've enjoyed it. Shaking herself out of her Before-memories, she got back to work. She would never be in that situation again, and that meant she needed to stay on top of how the tech was developing and it's capabilities. She thought she didn't really need to start worrying until the late 90's to 2000's, but better to be over-prepared than under.

---

Attending Benenden after years of almost-isolation is jarring. It's busy, and loud, and she's not sure how she feels about it. She picks up Before-her's southern accent and hides her own Scottish one. It's not a large school, which she's thankful for. But it is an all-girls boarding school, which… presents its own idiosyncrasies. It's not intolerable, just different.

She joins the drama society, but refuses to set foot under a spotlight. She dresses sets, dresses faces, dresses actresses. The other girls are confused by her adamance, but deign to allow her assistance. She remembers Merry, and decides that she'll keep this role. Remembering Before is more of a dull ache now than a stabbing wound. She thinks maybe she's started to heal.

Chemistry is fascinating in a way it never was Before. Mathematics and the Sciences have far more of a hold on her than they did Before-her. She delights in the reactions, in the calculations. In the ability to turn small, seemingly unconnected things into something else entirely. The first thing she tries to make herself is the 'homebrew' liquid latex Merry got Before-her to help make, for use by small-time theatre groups. It came out perfectly. She grins widely and makes plans to reproduce as much of the cosmetics palette as she can remember.

It becomes the thing people associate her with, unusual cosmetics; slowly, she learns how to turn a person into somebody else.

---

Alice is 13, and surrounded by strangers in the South, far from what she's ever known. Her brother is 16, almost a legal adult. He's won boxing competitions, gone on mountaineering trips, taken part in as many dangerous, adrenaline junkie activities as he's come across. He has one more year at Fettes before he leaves. Before-her's memories whisper of a dangerous life. She knows in her bones that he's planning on a military career. She can't stop him, can't chain him down, clip his wings, force him to be some tame thing instead of what he is. Or. Well. She could. She knows that if she panics at him, weeps, speaks of her terror of his dying… But she won't. She'd never be able to live with herself for trying to break him like that. And she'd lose him if she tried.

---

When they returned to Skyfall that summer, it was to a surprise from Kincaid - a beat up Suzuki Katana motorcycle. James visibly fell in love once they got it up and moving. They spent a lot of time on the racing bike, learning how to ride it across the roads and moors surrounding the lodge. The same way they'd sat in the front of the Rover, learning first-hand how to drive it. They visit the nearby village more, on their own, this summer, than they have before. Both of them adore the rush.

This is the first time she witnesses her brother flirting. It's clearly light-hearted, only in the pub, chatting up the waitresses whilst they're having lunch. He's charming, but his lines are ridiculous. Yet still there are pretty girls fluttering and falling all over him. He even gets cooed at by the mothers and grandmothers for being such a charming young man, such a good big brother. Alice is mildly horrified. Slightly awed at the ease with which her brother can apparently wrap women around his finger, but horrified. It even works when it fails. He gets laughed at, but they still do what he was angling for. It's equal parts impressive and icky.

The less said about the nights he goes out by himself, returning the next morning in rumpled clothes, the better. She has no need to know about her brother's sex life.

She's almost thankful when they go back to the resort Hannes works at even if Franz still gives her slight chills when he looks at James.

---

Alice has finally started making use of the things Mueti talked about whilst she was sat in her dressing room as a little girl. How to use clothes and make-up as armour, reputation and rumour as weapons, read people and make them dismiss her. She blends this with the knowledge that Before-her had received from Madre about Diplomats, and had earned working in the government. She chooses her role, and hones it until the mask she wears is diamond hard and mirror bright, preventing anyone from seeing more of her than she shows, from ever seeing that there is more of her than is shown. She starts preparing for what is to come, knowing that she can't just sit back and let him die.

Faux-nonchalantly, she presents James with a belated 17th birthday gift - his official gift, joint from her and Kincaid, was the keys to the refurbished form of Athair's Aston Martin, with strict instructions that he gain his driver's licence before he even think to set foot in the car - a forged identity, proclaiming him to be a 21-year-old called Alex Rider with a gun permit, and pilot lessons. He accepts the pilot lessons (small planes and helicopters) before noticing the extra documentation. He flips through it slowly, before raising his gaze to her face. She is studiously looking at the wall behind him. He sighs long and low, before wrapping her in a hug.

"It's not something I need to worry about? The reason for this?"

She feels him waving the papers behind her. Face buried in his shoulder, she shakes her head, almost falling apart with how relieved she is that he isn't pushing it. She wouldn't be able to explain the reasons for her actions in a way that would satisfy him. She's pleased that she doesn't have to try; she doesn't think she could lie to him about something so important, but wouldn't know what else to do. Swallowing thickly, she responds.

"No, Jem. It isn't. Promise."

"Aight, luv. Thanks."

He squeezes her extra tight before releasing her, looking carefully at her face, before grinning and regaling her with hammed up accounts of his (mis)adventures. Neither of them speak of the fact that Alex Rider is an orphan and an only child.

---

James had been 18 for 3 days when he gets a call from the resort Hannes worked at. Both Oberhausers are missing, presumed dead in a sudden storm that whited out the whole resort. He gets another call three weeks later, proclaiming that the two bodies have been recovered.

Alice had been expecting and dreading this information in equal parts. She doesn't notice how James' eyes narrow at her slightly off response. (It's part of why, decades later, it's so easy for him to believe Franz is still alive. Her response was upset, but also conflicted. She'd gotten on fairly well with both of them, and was a 14-year-old girl. He thought she should've been more distraught over the whole thing.) She knows that there's nothing to be done for it now, and throws herself into her studies, focusing most on Chemistry, Computers and PE. She refuses to be unprepared for her future.

James, ever the master of witty quips and reading her from miles away, sends her letters about his training at the Britannia Royal Naval College that leave her in stitches. She just tells him either to be so careful he doesn't get caught, so charming others won't let him take the fall, or so ostentatious that no-one can actually believe it was done.

---

Once completing her schooling, Alice goes on to work for a cosmetics company. As a result of the factories and offices being spread multinationaly, she learns some new languages, as well as brushing up on old ones. Due to her learning by immersion, James starts to pick up bits and pieces of them almost by accident as she writes to him in the language of the country she's currently based in. He returns the favour; part of his training has included terms at top British Universities, gaining him a First in Oriental Languages. Their communications start jumping languages as they grow more comfortable with them.

On her 18th birthday, James took her out drinking, being on leave at the time. He nearly breaks the hand of the man who tries to aggressively (unsuccessfully) flirt with her. She slaps his arm, but shoots him a grateful look none-the-less. The next day, recovering from a truly obscene amount of alcohol, she drags him to a tattoo parlour with her, to start getting some of the designs she wanted. She starts with the blue withered rose, aware that she's only going to get the line-art of it today. At the raised eyebrows, she huffed but explained it.

"Honestly Jem, don't give me that look. I like flower language, aight? A withered rose means death before dishonour, and a blue rose means impossibility. I thought it fit… me, ya know?"

She lies face down on the tattoo chair, raising the bottom of her top. The rose is going to follow the line of her spine. James sits down next to her, still looking intrigued.

"Oh? So what am I then?"

Hissing lightly at the cold of the alcohol to clean her skin for the tattooing to begin, she turns her face to the side to face him, slight grin curling the side of her mouth up. She doesn't even pretend to think about it before responding.

"Laurel leaves and snapdragon. And possibly nasturium."

Smirking, she settles in to her chair, prepared to wait him out and make him ask. Huffing unimpressed, but with amusement dancing across his face, he asks her to elaborate. Grin fully-fledged, she proceeds to do so.

"Laurel leaves denote victory, Jem, and snapdragons mean strength and concealment. And you are very good at hiding precisely how strong you are. Nasturium… that's battles, and journeys, and patriotism. I'll be honest, the first two I've been planning to have for a while. The third is new as of you deciding to join Her Majesty's Service."

He lets loose a bark of laughter. "HA! And what's the flower for ambition, luv? I'll need a reminder of you whilst you're off galivanting around the world."

"Hmm, ambitious would be a violet or a calendula. If, however, you want ambitious woman-" Her eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth, her tone affectionate "-it would be a white hollyhock instead."

At her next appointment, to get the colour and detailing put in, he comes as well, flower design in hand. He gets a greyscale design on the back of his shoulder that he doesn't let her see. The next letter she gets from him includes a photograph - a healed tattoo consisting of snapdragons and white hollyhocks.

---

Over the next few years, Alice acquires a total of 12 tattoos.

Some are visible to pretty much everyone.

Nobody ever sees all of them.

---

Her brother starts making eyes at pretty people, chatting them up with cheesy lines and drinks. She loses track of the number of beautiful women he takes back to his hotel room, or follow home on a night out. She starts to see the pattern to his conquests - the ones he follows home are pretty, certainly, but they're not anything special. The ones he brings back to the hotel, the ones he spends more than just a night of sex with… they're clever. They're sharp-eyed, sharper-tongued, and quick-witted. He likes them better if they can keep up with him, or outclass him in some way. She still doesn't meet many of them, but she only ever gets introduced to the clever ones.

He picks up men as well. He's a lot subtler about it, and it happens far less frequently, but she sees how his eyes sometimes trail after men at the bar. She almost laughs - his taste in men is much the same as his taste in women. Good-looking, and intelligent. She doesn't get introduced to any of the men he brings back, until one morning she accidently comes into the shared part of their suite before his partner for the night has quite left. They both freeze, staring at each other for a moment, until James follows the man out of his room.

Blinking, she smiles at them both, before getting on with her morning routine, teasing her brother and his lover until they start moving. He's certainly a very good looking man, and she can appreciate the chiaroscuro when seeing them side by side. Tonio is all long, lean dark tan, and chocolate curls, compared to her brothers golden skin and hair. He's also a very cheerful person, light-hearted banter flying through the room. He's charming enough to match her brother, and is the conquest that stays the longest that trip. James stops being quite so paranoid about keeping his male lovers an unknown, treating them more like the women he brings back. His standards for men remain higher than his standards for women. At times she thinks that his only requirements for getting with women are willing, and in possession of a pulse.

---

In 1991, laptops and internet burst into being. Ever paranoid, and more aware of the damage that can be done with the developing technology than anybody alive, she ensures that she stays on top of the technological upswing. It's getting more difficult, as computers are getting far more complex, but also easier; this is closer to the type of tech Before-her remembers using.

With all of the travelling her job has her doing, she's made contacts in several countries. She's also saved enough money to make her comfortable with striking out on her own. She's learned enough tricks of the trade and formulations to be able to tweak standard forms into what she wants. She starts a small company, focused on making cosmetics that can be used either for vanity purposes, or costume.

She also notices a couple of the people she spends time with flinch at loud noises, and always seem to be bruised. Riding ahead of the curve on cyber security, and pulling on Before-her's memories of working in the records department for the government, she discreetly offers them a way out, if they need it. A new identity, with cheap and flexible repayment. Some of them smile blandly at her and pretend they have no idea what she's talking about. Some of them ignore her. But some. Some get in touch with her at odd times, hold hushed conversations with her. And she helps set them up with a false job transfer overseas, where they tragically die in an accident, whilst setting them up with a new identity somewhere else, with job prospects that match their experience. Some are male, some female. Some move alone, others with children in tow.

It's about this time she starts to make a bit of a name for herself as an identity maker. Promptly deciding that no-one can be allowed to link her actions to herself, she all but removes her legal identity, gets a reputation for being a bit eccentric, and sets up her own false identity who's only known as Chet, who sets up identities. A lot of the identity side of the business happens online or through proxies, so no-one knows who, precisely, Chet is.

'Chet' came from Cheshire Cat, chosen for the irony of having a disappearing person being the one to make others disappear. She also accidentally makes a bit of a name for herself as a small-time hacker. She starts signing that work Toothsome, for the Cheshire Cat's toothsome grin. The fact that the names come from one of her favourite stories is inconsequential, of course.

---

Whilst on leave in 1991, Alice and James visit Portugal. Through a series of events she doesn't fully understand, nor want to ask about, she meets Tracy, a battered widow, whom James saved from drowning. They spend a fair amount of time together, during which it comes out that she is the heiress of a crime syndicate. Alice and James exchange a few dubious looks, but, well… they've never exactly been stellar examples of legal good. They're chaotic good, at best. So they spend time with her, trying to help her start to move through her depression. Alice watches fondly, but guardedly, as James and Tracy get closer.

Eventually her father, Marc-Ange, catches wind of what's happening with his only daughter, and "invites" them to his villa in Corsica. He is an effusive host, pleased that 'His Teresa' is coming out of her funk. He privately asks James to continue courting his daughter, as she is now more cheerful, and offers him the full resources of the Draco Syndicate as incentive. James is unimpressed. He and Alice both start writing to her, however. Alice gradually sees both of the two's letters to her start to include more and more about the other. Affection clearly grows and shows between the two of them. All of James' leaves start being taken in Corsica, with the Dracos, rather than travelling as they had before. Alice and Marc-Ange bond over seeing their favourite people slowly falling in love, and joint frustration at neither of them making a move.

Alice and Marc-Ange end up spending a lot of time together to give the love-sick fools privacy, hoping to induce a confession. They went for meals, he showed her around the famous landmarks of the island, and they attended concerts in the Eglise de Saint Jean Baptiste. He also catered to her curiosity about weaponry, and encouraged her to consult with his Research and Development team. Both sides came out pleased with their new explosives and poisons. She also made an offhand offer to help set up any of his people that needed a legal identity in England.

---

James finally proposed to Tracy in 1994, after keeping everyone around them in frustrated anticipation for three years. Marc-Ange hosted a magnificent engagement party, allowing him to show off to all his syndicate and allies. He also organised the most lavish wedding possible for his daughter and his new son. Eglise de Saint Jean Baptise was covered in flowers, and filled with jubilation as the two married.

Marc-Ange presented the happy couple with a Jaguar XJ220C as a wedding present, and sent them off to enjoy their honeymoon. Tragedy struck not long after their departure. Gunshot clearly audible to the remaining wedding party, Alice, Marc-Ange, and his security drove towards the sound like hounds from hell. An unknown car was speeding towards them, and careened off the side of the cliff when it collided with the incoming vehicles. Scrambling down the cliffside saw Alice reach the flipped car. Breaking through the glass, she saw that the men inside were dead. Snarling, she reached about inside until she came up with a rifle. Throwing it behind her for the Draco security to collect when they caught up to her, she stilled as she found a ring on the driver's left middle finger. Removing and pocketing it, she checked the gunman for it as well. Finding him without one, she frowned, but managed to find a diary and cheap phone which she chucks behind her as well.

At this point, the security team have arrived, and start to drag her away from the car as it's started to leak smoke like it's going to burn. Being ushered back up to the cars, she freezes when she sees James. He's sitting, shell-shocked, gazing at nothing. There's a stretcher covered in a white sheet in front of him and to the side. She spies a familiar shoe poking out the bottom. Rearing back in shock, her gaze jumps, taking in the destroyed windscreen of the jaguar, Marc-Ange's broken-hearted face, James’ blank look. Moving forward slowly, she squeezes Marc-Ange's shoulder as she passes him. Crouching in front of her brother, she tilted his face up to meet his gaze. Her heart tightened even further at the look in his eyes. Sitting next to him she turned his face to her neck and wrapped her arms around him. Slowly, he seemed to come back to himself slightly, arms rising, then suddenly clinging to her in a crushing grip. She could feel the hot streaks running down her neck. She held her position, hiding his sorrow, his 'weakness' as he perceives it, until he was ready to put himself back together enough to face the others.

He shuddered gently, before straightening. As he pulled away from her embrace, she saw his face hardening, becoming flinty, hard and unforgiving as steel. She watched the beginnings of fire and bloodlust rise in him, tries to cut it off with the information that the assailants are already dead. She watches as he hides the feral thing behind his eyes away, but it's not gone. Just waiting. He and Marc-Ange work in what should've been mildly terrifying synchronicity as they track down and destroy the guild that hired out the gunman. They can't find anything on the driver. No name, no history, no employer, nothing. She watches them snarl and rage, but eventually give up, dissatisfied.

Later, in her room, she considers the ring she pulled from the driver. She swallows her rage, lets it flow through her, banked but not burnt out. Her eyes shine with impotent fury. Even with Before-her's knowledge of how the story goes, she is helpless to do anything. She can't find Franz, or his people. She can't do anything. In the end, she hides the ring in the lining of her shoulder bag, and decides not to tell James about it. All she has is a ring. She can't explain the rest.

---

She and James never go back to Corsica after that.

---

When James gets recruited to a branch of the SIS in 1998, he all but begs her to remove her legal identity completely. She acquiesces, leaving all records to show James Bond as an orphaned only child. No attachments. It takes a good three months after her changes for anyone to go looking for other family members. James never said who his mysterious penpal was, so when she takes a peek into his MI6 file, she nearly laughs herself sick when she sees that she's presumed to be a paramour. Then she cries as she remembers Tracy.

She sets her new life up as Alice Liddell.

---

On December 21st, 1999, she gets absolutely shit-faced drunk. She looks at the birth registry the next day to see if anyone called Evelyn Lott was born. She can't decide if she's pleased or not that no such person exists. James watches her worriedly for the rest of the holiday after that, even if she tries to pretend that it never happened. She's mostly thankful that he put up with being aggressively snuggled for the day after with no explanations.

As James leaves, he presses his dog tags into her hand. Something about the look on his face, the way she can't quite identify it, the intensity of it, halts any questions she might've asked. She nods solemnly, unsure what exactly she's agreed to. The dog tags get dropped around her neck, down her shirt. They're never taken off.

---

In 2002 she starts sneaking her way through the cyber-security of MI6 on a regular basis. She keeps track of her brother's file, and starts editing some of the more frivolous coding in an attempt to get them to up their firewalls. Disturbingly, no-one seems to notice. She finds traces of someone who started making a name for themselves about five years earlier, known as Rata. He's started making more waves since, but the coding she'd seeing would have to be older than that. She's too busy chasing the holes in security to pay much attention to the pieces of code, though she has a niggling feeling that there's something she's missing.

Horrified to discover that she's starting to lose track of the details of Before-her's stories, she writes the abridged form of them down. (She never does check the programming. She regrets it later.)

---

She's been paranoid about the security of her personal tech, but has managed to secure a pair of cheap phones and a headset. The headset she links with her phone, certain calls coming straight through to her. The other she gives to James, with instructions to call her on that phone if he ever needs anything, such as an identity, weaponry, her company, etc. Calls from that phone always come straight through to her. Remembering Before-her's stories, she also insists that he memorise the number for her phone so that he can still call her if anything happens to his.

Her small cosmetics company has started to expand, as has her more illicit business in new identities. She has 3 members of Marc-Ange's Syndicate hiding in the cover of her company whilst they check the legitimacy of some rumours. She and Marc-Ange have kept up contact somewhat through the years since Tracy's death. James couldn't bear to. From Marc-Ange she receives whispers of things coming, of a madman, of a shadowy organisation that no-one can pinpoint. She sends back rumours of people moving in on his territory, of American agents attempting to infiltrate his number, of a group she's only heard of as Quantum. Any information relevant to James' life that comes to her reaches him. The only thing she's kept from him for any length of time is the ring she pulled from the driver all those years ago. She mentions the unknown affiliation when talking about the shadowy organisation. James is… not very impressed, but accepts her reasoning for delaying the reveal.

There are two major outside events in her life during 2006. One is that her brother gains Double-Oh status. James Bond, 007. The other is a brilliant new programmer appearing, known only as Query.

---

Then she finds out he's being sent to a high-stakes poker game in Montenegro, held at Casino Royale.

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daleelahwrites · 1 year ago

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I don't know what we're doing

I don't know what we've done

But the fire is coming

So I think we should run

For those who doesn't know, my fanfic Run was inspired in this song! The fic is sadly in hiatus, but this will change soon! I'm dealing with healthy problems since 2020, but apparently now I'm doing better, so now I'll be able to dedicate more time to write! 💗 Wish me luck! :')

You can find this story and many others on my Linktree!

Eu não sei o que estamos fazendo

Eu não sei o que fizemos

Mas o fogo está vindo

Então eu acho que devemos correr

Para quem não sabe, minha fanfic Run foi inspirada por essa música! Infelizmente a história está em hiatus, mas isso vai mudar em breve! Tenho lidado com problemas de saúde desde 2020, mas aparentemente tive uma melhora significativa, então por agora terei mais tempo para dedicar à escrita! 💗 Torçam por mim! :')

Você encontra essa e outras histórias através do meu Linktree!

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@timid-warrior submitted: *Cough cough* BeruSasha song ..our baes *cough*

I can’t deny I am in love with it!

#Leelah Reblogs #berusasha #berusasha love #bertholdt hoover #sasha braus #bertholdt x sasha #fic inspo

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phantomwarrior12 · 3 years ago

Text

The Last Night (Chapter 5)

It's either too early or entirely too late for this nonsense.

Essa is startled awake by a knock at Tevez's door. His arms flex around her in response, gathering her close in his sleep until the knock sounds again. He awakens this time with a deep sigh that rolls through him as if he realizes that whoever it is isn't going away anytime soon and he'll have to drag himself out of bed and out of her arms. She slowly lifts her head from the Titan's chest as he groans his disapproval.

Another knock, this time louder and more insistent as his hand grazes her side in its journey toward the hand curled up against his jaw. He begins to disentangle from her; working her arm away from his neck, guiding her leg off of his thigh. He pushes up onto his elbow and she knows it's inevitable but still, she reaches for him blindly with a whine of protest. Fingertips graze the ridged metal of his chest and for a moment, it grants him pause.

"Ignore it." She pleads even as his fingers curl around her own. Even as firm metal presses against her battered knuckles in a kiss so sweet that it captures her breath for an instant. Even as she registers a soft chuckle above her and her heart flutters a little in her chest - her plea is heard but they both know he cannot appease her.

No matter how much they both want to.

It's a moment before she realizes he'd laughed. A moment before the full effect of that raspy, crackled echo of vocal nodes fully registered in her sleep addled mind.

When did that voice become her favorite sound?

Tevez squeezes her hand, drawing her mind from its tangent just before he lays it on the mattress. He tucks the blankets around her, presumably to keep her from pulling him back into bed. Smart man. He smoothes the sheets away from her chin and fingers trace up bone to tuck a few strands of blonde behind her ear as he whispers, "Be right back."

He's not wearing his armor like he has every night since her arrival. Hell, he's not wearing much of anything right now which does send Essa’s mind a flutter. Memories of their morning in the clearing, the vibrant dance of light along darkened panels - she's the only one to ever see it. She realizes he has never been so vulnerable with anyone else.

Which is why tonight was so astonishing.

When asked why, he'd mumbled something about her already having seen him shirtless and this wasn't that bad in comparison. She'd flushed and tried to tease him about being forward but the Titan didn't seem to care, more interested in cuddling her than engaging in banter.

Which was a first for him. Usually he'd ignore her heckling in favor of cleaning his rifle - it was an adequate distraction. But that's something else. He didn't clean his rifle when they got back as he has each night. He deposited it by the door and didn't spare it another glance. She'd watched him remove his helmet, cast a look her way as if searching for an answer. But when she smiled, dear Traveler, the way his face lit up. It was the first time she'd ever seen him smile. The expression permeated every inch of his features. Excited and pleased and warm all at once. It was the cutest fucking thing she's seen in a long time and it was just for her.

She'd perched herself on the edge of the table, watched him remove the remaining armor as well as his shirt. Evidently, he sleeps without it. Not that she's complaining.

He'd drawn her eyes from the iridescent panels she's become so enamored with in such a short time. They're unique, just like him. Still her eyes settle on his features when he stepped up to her. When he tossed the shirt onto the chair by the fireplace and offered her a hand without breaking eye contact.

Not a word was uttered. No prodding, no shift of his eyes. Just the steady hover of an outstretched appendage that she finds herself accepting. His palm fits against her own, calloused skin settling against cool metal and her eyes drop to the point of contact. Tevez leans his head against hers, nuzzling against the crook of her neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Essa smiles.

"Are you alright?"

"M'fine." He murmurs, his voice vibrating against her skin and she stifles a shiver.

"You're sure?"

"Do I have to prove it?" He whispers as she registers his other hand drifting down her side, tracing along the seam of her pants from her hip down to her knee.

"...if I said yes?"

He nips a patch of skin on her neck lightly and her spine straightens. It's an interesting manner of demonstrating his well-being but she's not about to complain. She will, however, lament the way he pulls back, squeezing her fingers and backs them both toward the bed.

She wanted more. He will not grant it.

"Convinced, sparky?"

She nods slightly, grip firm on his shoulder to steady herself and the cocky bastard smiles again.

The way her heart flutters in response should alarm her. But it doesn't. She hopes it never does.

After being pulled into bed, she'd found a comfortable position facing him. Her head resting mostly on a pillow with his arm tucked beneath it but her forehead settles against the cool metal of his chest.

They fall asleep fairly quickly after that, breath intermingling as they faced one another. He'd held her all night. Or perhaps the evening isn't over? She doesn't want to open her eyes to find out because that means this dream is over and it's back to reality.

That means she has to give this up.

The bed shifts as Tevez gets up, springs groaning and settling beneath her as she snuggles down into the blankets. She faintly registers his voice saying his Ghost's name and the sound of a transmat fills the quiet room - no doubt his armor finding its usual place once more on his body. There's another knock just before she hears the door open rather abruptly, a creak of protest from its hinges.

There's a beat of silence before a man finds his voice. "Tevez, uh, Lord Shaxx has arrived. He's asking for you."

Essa sits up, looking over her shoulder toward the door as Tevez nods. Shaxx is here already? Will he want to leave tonight to get back to the fortress? She wasn't prepared to say goodbye so suddenly - not when he's finally let her in. Not when he...she can't even finish the thought. Her fingers wind tighter around the sheets, willing her nerves to settle as she looks from the man to Tevez.

Her Titan gives no indication of his mood. He stands tall and in a way that projects a composure she's pretty sure she lacks at the moment.

"Take him to the tavern, I'll be there shortly with Lady Essa."

His voice echoes that same resonating composure and she can't help but smile. Always so level-headed, her Tevez.

The man nods and disappears from view as Tevez closes the door and casts his gaze to her.

"He made good time. We weren't expecting him until tomorrow."

She chuckles softly, leaning against the headboard as her Titan crosses the room back to her side. She forces her gaze to remain on his helmet, not on the sway of his hips as he meanders over the few feet between them. Not on the subtle clench and unclench of his fingers. And certainly not on the way he angles his head in a way that - if she were feeling bold enough to presume - could be interpreted as admiring. But she isn't feeling particularly bold tonight, not anymore.

Instead, she forces her eyes to linger on the broad visor of his helmet as she finds her voice and a pleasant smile to accompany it, "He moves fast. There is no such thing as lost time with Lord Shaxx."

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and for a moment, the thought that he's too far away strikes her. Yet, she stays where she is, watching him. Tevez seems as though he wants to say something but thinks better of it, his gaze diverting to the floorboards before him.

Someday he won't hesitate to voice his thoughts - perhaps not today. He'd done enough of it for both of them earlier that morning.

And that conversation is far from over.

Essa shifts a little closer, noting the way Tevez perks up and tilts his head - that one she recognizes as curiosity. She reaches for him, fingers hooking beneath the seal of his helmet. When he doesn't pull away, she gently lifts it up and over his head, the soft hiss of the seal filling the room.

She doesn't think she'll ever tire of seeing his face. How sharp his eyes are, how every emotion can flash in them and still there is something more to uncover, some fragment he veils until the right moment. He is smiling when her eyes finally take in the rest of his faceplate.

"What?" He asks softly, laying his hand on the sheets between them just shy of her thigh.

"Nothing," she traces her thumb along the white paint beneath his eye. "Just looking."

His eyes close beneath her touch and his hand drifts up to her waist. If he weren't a Sentinel, she'd mistake those sparks along her skin for Arc bolts. Or perhaps this is just the effect Tevez has on her now. His touch ignites her nerves in a way she can't fully comprehend. It's as if she's drawn to him, but not in any sense that she can rationalize. She doesn't even think she can put it into words anymore. She just...needs him close.

"What's your boss gonna think when he sees you in one of my shirts?" Tevez’s voice grounds her from the sensation singing along her skin. He's trying to tease but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"He won't care," she leans in a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to his faceplate and he melts a little. His shoulders sag, his body leans forward into her and she smiles as she does it again, "My robes weren't salvageable. Your shirt is a nice substitute."

She enjoys the way his whole body caves to the sensation. The way his composure scatters to the wind and he becomes...well, as pliant as an Exo can get. In an instant, he looks relaxed and at peace and she takes pride in being the only one capable of getting him there. In being the only one he lets his defenses fall around.

Perhaps she lets hers slip a bit as well. He has changed a great many things. Even in the short time she's been here, he has altered her mannerisms so blatantly. She doesn't show a lot of physical affection to anyone. She's never met someone that spurred her to behave as she has with Tevez. Ordinarily, she keeps as much distance between herself and others as she deems necessary. But with him? She's as close as she can be now.

And it makes her realize: when did she become so comfortable with kissing him? When did this become a norm?

"Mm," he manages, fingers curling around the fabric near her waist. His head lifts a little, angling as if to guide her lips to his mouth but he stills, hesitating for the second time that night.

“Tevez?”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, opening his eyes to look at her curiously.

“Stop second guessing yourself,” she chuckles, “Kiss me, you idiot.”

He smiles and drags her closer by her waist. It takes a moment for him to reason out an acceptable way to do this without hurting her but he settles on simply pressing his mouth plate against her lips. It’s as close to a kiss as an Exo can offer given the rigidity of metal but the way his hands move over her back - it conveys what his mouth cannot.

Want. Affection. Tenderness. Desperation.

Her hands cradle his face as she kisses him softly, enjoying the way he almost drags her into his lap to have her closer but stops himself with a fistful of her shirt. She wants to laugh, to tease him but the way he’s holding her - so fervently - she can barely form a coherent thought.

That seems to be a theme when it comes to him.

Finally, Tevez pulls back. His eyes slowly open and he tries to catch his breath. His fingers ease their grip on her shirt and for an instant, she wishes they'd pull her into his lap instead - into his arms never to let go. But that isn't isn't option either. She can hear the cooling jets fired up and whirling. She realizes he must've been as affected as she was - not that she can tease him about it given how flushed she's become.

He drags his eyes back to hers, his voice unsteady as he manages but two words, “We better…"

Don’t say stop. Please—

“Better head to the tavern,” he manages after a moment, blinking down at her with a sort of dazed affection that she’s sure she mirrors.

Her skin is aflame, her heart is pounding and her head is spinning with an eager sort of warmth yet she manages a slow, unsteady nod.

He's right. She knows he's right and yet, she wishes he weren't. For once, she wants to ignore the outside world and pull him back into her arms. What happens from there will happen but she doesn't care what it is so long as Tevez stays beside her.

But that isn't possible, not tonight.

She sits back on her heels and Tevez’s hands are slow to recoil. That's probably the worst part. She likes his touch, how close it means she is to him. She hates it when he pulls away. One can't become addicted to someone's touch, can they? Or perhaps they can. Touch seems to be Tevez's way of showing what his pride won't allow him to verbalize.

It was reluctant at first, the way he touched her. And then it became bolder, almost deliberate but exploratory. Now - now it's tender. It's comfortable and easy and she's forgotten what it's like to go more than an hour without his hand on her. She craves it. Aches for it.

Or maybe, it's just him she wants.

Essa watches him pick up his helmet from the bed and turn it over, staring down into it quietly.

“You okay?” She asks softly, sliding closer to him as she swings her feet onto the floor.

“…I’ve never resented having to put this helmet back on before,” he admits, tracing his thumb absently along the outside of it.

“You don’t have to put it back on,” she touches his forearm, drawing his gaze to hers.

There she finds the uncertainty. The fear. The dejection. He won't show his face, no matter what she says but that won't deter her from trying.

His fingers curl around the helmet, “The people here—“

“Will have to come to terms with it eventually. With Shaxx here, you could—“

“Essa.” He cuts in gently, almost sounding chiding in the way he utters her name. It sends a pang of something unfamiliar through her. Even so, he takes her hand in his, “It’s alright.”

Her shoulders sag, her features fall. “That’s no way to live, Tevez,” she says softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The metal pauldron is cool against her temple. She isn't sure she can decipher his intentions, but she can sense his apprehension. The subtle flutter of Light on the edge of her senses. The tender yet firm grasp he has on her hand.

Perhaps he's uncertain of his intentions as well.

“It’s how things must be.”

It doesn't have to be.

“You could come with me.” She stares at the door for a moment. He could come with her, couldn't he? Shaxx's fortress is filled with people who don't mind Exos. He could be happy there. He could--

“We both know that isn’t possible, sparky.” He gently holds her hand against his chest.

She isn't sure what that gesture is meant to communicate but she enjoys it all the same. The ridged metal doesn't hold the same comfort his actual chest does, but she'll take what she can get.

It is a distraction though. So much so that his words take an instant to register and when they do - those idle thoughts of a life with him at her side shatters and she sets her jaw.

“Tev—“

“Essa, please.” He squeezes her hand. "I don't want to argue about this right now."

It's not worth an argument this late at night anyway - not after the day he's had. Not after he fought on her behalf. He can have this respite, if only for tonight.

“We’re not done discussing this.” She warns, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away to slide on her boots.

She's keenly aware of his gaze but she doesn't meet it while she laces up the dated leather. His hand ghosts over her spine and she tries to ignore the flutter in her chest at the contact.

Moment's gone, Es. You managed to dash that. Pull it together.

“I know,” he mutters at last. His hand withdraws as he rises to his full height and slides the helmet back on. In an instant, that helmet she loathes so much is concealing the thing she's come to adore. There are no piercing blue eyes bearing into her soul as she gazes up at him, but he does offer her a hand that she quickly accepts.

She could go on. She could fixate on the way his hand fits hers so well. She could dream of the moments she'd spent letting that same hand roam along her spine as she drifted to sleep in his arms. But there are other things at stake that force her mind back to the present - back to the Titan gazing down at her.

She doesn’t relinquish her hold on his hand once she’s upright. She entwines her fingers with his, tucking herself close to his side as he leads her out of the house and toward the tavern. The streets are silent as they walk, the occasional call of owls echo in the distance as the wind picks up. It cuts through her shirt and she presses closer to Tevez. That Solar façade is back up, but this time, it’s not for show in front of her. He even expands it a bit more and she’s grateful for the added warmth.

“Should’ve gotten you a jacket,” he says softly and she smiles.

“Why? I got my portable heater right here,” she looks up at him.

He scoffs lightly but the playfulness ebbs the closer they get to the tavern. The building is completely lit up and there are a few people lingering outside the door. They all turn when Tevez’s boots echo against the stone leading up to the building.

“Is that really a Warlord, Titan?”

He nods silently, his Solar energy returning to what is perceived as human body heat and his hand drops from hers, gently resting on the small of her back.

She looks down in confusion and deliberately reclaims his hand, startling him but she shows no indication of it being out of the ordinary. She brushes past the villagers, striding inside the tavern with Tevez in tow. She realizes how it appears, but she doesn’t particularly care.

And he carries himself well regardless; his fingers curl around hers, accepting his role at her side as if it's where he was always meant to be. Not cowering, not shrinking back or averting his gaze. He holds himself with an air of confidence that she admires him for.

But when Warlord Shaxx turns to face them, Tevez falters while Essa smiles gently.

“Ah, Lady Essa! It’s good to see you alive and well!” The Titan beams and Essa can feel Tevez flinch beside her, gripping her fingers tighter than is comfortable but she doesn't pull away. This Exo is obviously not accustomed to loud noises and Shaxx is always loud.

“Lord Shaxx,” she greets with a smile. “This is Tevez,” she nods to the Titan beside her who tries to straighten up, “He saved my life."

Shaxx's gaze settles on Tevez, “Thank you for that. I apologize for the trouble we've caused you.”

“It’s…fine,” Tevez answers quietly, his eyes flitting to Essa for an instant as he eases the hold on her hand, “They tucked tail after I dropped your name, so…”

Shaxx laughs and her Titan stiffens slightly as his eyes snap back to the Warlord, “Mentioned my name? I do wonder which one of my adversaries was stupid enough to sick their dogs on my lieutenant.”

“I have an idea,” Essa returns bitterly,

“I’ll appreciate the debrief, but perhaps in the morning. I do apologize to have dragged you from rest this late at night but once your messenger arrived, I came straight here.”

“Where is he, by the way?” Tevez asks, tilting his head.

“At my fortress, regaining his strength. Poor man hardly rested on his way there, he needed time to recover before making a return trip.”

Tevez nods slightly, diverting his gaze as his thumb traces along Essa’s. She looks over at him, noting the awkwardness in his stance. He doesn’t know what to do with the situation.

She shifts her gaze back to Shaxx who has taken note, at last, of her hand entwined with Tevez’s. His head tilts before Warlord and Warlock alike exchange a look. The Warlord chooses to leave it alone as he scans the bar. “Well, it is late--"

“We had a room prepared for you here.” Tevez lifts his head abruptly, gesturing toward the back room. “Isn’t much, but should be big enough to get some rest on.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Village is pretty small, don’t get much in the way of visitors…especially Warlords.”

“Of course.” Shaxx booms, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. We can reconvene in the morning and discuss the attacks?”

“Of course,” Tevez answers stiffly.

Essa can't quite quell her smile as she bumps into him to try and ease some of that tension.

“Something amusing, Lady Essa?” Shaxx asks calmly, though she can hear the laugh in his voice.

“No, nothing, sir.” She tosses a look toward Tevez who has that confused tilt to his head that she finds so endearing. She squeezes his hand, drawing him a little closer as she leans into his shoulder.

“Of course…well, goodnight.” Shaxx chuckles softly, turning and heading for the room Tevez had gestured to.

“Goodnight,” she says without looking over, holding Tevez’s gaze evenly. She waits until the door clicks shut before leaning into Tevez a bit more, “You gonna stare all night, tin can?”

He steals a glance toward the crowd beginning to disperse before looking back to her, “Maybe I will.”

“Your bed?” She suggests teasingly and he lowers his helmet, resting it against her forehead gently.

“Unless you have somewhere else to be?” His fingers squeeze around hers.

“Your chair comes to mind,” she smirks.

“So long as I get to hold you,” he murmurs.

“I think we can make that happen.”

———————————

“So they’ve attacked twice?”

“Yeah,” Tevez props himself against the bar top, arms folded over his chest while Essa sits on the bar top beside him. He's keenly aware of just how close Essa is sitting and if Shaxx has noticed, he hasn’t mentioned it.

“The second time, they ambushed Tevez near the mountain pass.” Essa supplies, her hand absently tracing along the back of Tevez’s neck. He’s become attuned to her touch, the deliberate track of her fingertips along each jointed piece of metal sends a sensation along nerves that isn't altogether pleasurable but neither does it cause discomfort. He simply enjoys the contact. She’d moved the fabric aside to begin with and the sensation was so calming, Tevez didn’t bother telling her to put it back.

“How did you get away?” Shaxx’s gaze zeroes in on Tevez and the Titan straightens his spine.

“Picked them off one by one until they’d had enough.”

“Really? All four of them?” Shaxx sounds surprised.

Tevez nods, unsure of the Warlord’s tone, “They didn’t fight much like a Fireteam.”

Essa snorts, “Don’t be so modest,” she nudges him with her knee, “You fight better than any Light-Bearer I’ve met…aside from Shaxx and the Iron Lords, of course.”

The Warlord lets out a pleased laugh, “Perhaps we should trade blows, Titan. If Lady Essa is impressed, you must truly be something.”

Tevez looks between them in confusion, “Uh, sure…”

“Excellent. Now, about the village—“

Tevez tenses and Essa can’t get a word in before he speaks, “It’s under my protection.” He didn’t mean for it to sound so hostile, so sharp and intense but the Warlord is unfazed.

“Of course. But given your most recent involvement, perhaps an added layer of security is necessary.”

“There a price that comes with it?” He asks, uncrossing his arms. Essa’s hand has fallen away from his neck but he can sense her anxiety rising beside him.

“Of course not,” he chuckles softly, “The village can remain as it is, but my banner can fly near the wall.”

“Wouldn’t that make us a target?”

“Less of a target.” He corrects calmly, “I’m sure Felwinter explained the extent of my reach in this region. And as you said, you mentioned my approach and they fled. This way, you have my protection to back up those threats.”

Essa’s hand settles on his shoulder, her voice soothing against aggravated nerves, “It’s safer in the long run, Tev.”

His head turns toward her, tilting ever so slightly as his knuckles graze her calf. Contact makes it a bit easier to think things through - he's fired up about this, he can recognize that. Essa will have to be his restraint right now - he can't do this without her.

“You needn’t answer now. I intend to look into these attackers myself and ensure they don’t return to harass you or your people once we’re gone.” Shaxx supplies after a weighted moment of silence.

“I’d appreciate that,” Tevez says softly, shame creeping up somewhere in his voice.

Shaxx nods and casts his gaze to Essa, “Would you care to accompany me? Or remain to keep watch?”

“You anticipate needing back up?” She asks, propping an arm on Tevez’s pauldron.

He laughs, “Probably not. What about you, Tevez? Care to join me?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to remain here. Don’t much like getting caught up in Warlord conflicts.”

“Understandable.” Shaxx shifts his gaze between them as his arms fold across his chest. “There is one other thing, Tevez. How on earth did you manage this?”

“Manage what?” Tevez tilts his head, confusion slipping into his voice.

“Earned my viper’s affection,” Shaxx chuckles lowly.

“…viper?” He looks to Essa who looks annoyed.

“Nickname,” she returns, inspecting some scratch on his pauldron, “who coined it? Lord Saladin, was it?”

“I believe it was,” the Warlord supplies.

“Banter, I presume?” Tevez looks up at her.

“Something along those lines.” She touches his helmet lightly, “Venomous comebacks, I think he put it. We don’t see eye to eye, blah blah blah,”

“Suits you,” he says playfully and she kicks his hip lightly.

“Shut up.”

He forgets Shaxx is there for an instant and gives in to a petulant impulse, “Make me, sparky.”

She narrows her eyes at him and he’s sure she knows he’s smirking at her. “I will zap your ass, tin can.”

He has a comeback but a glance toward Shaxx is enough to silence it. He comes back to his senses, reminding himself that the Warlord does pose his own set of complications. Insulting his lieutenant - even as a joke - does not bode well. Instead, he backs down, resting his hand on her knee as he leans against the bar once more without uttering a word.

He's sure Essa notices the shift in his demeanor because she takes his hand in her own.

"Do you require a guide?" Tevez asks at last, willing himself to relax but even with his Warlock beside him, he can't shake this nagging sense of danger.

"No, I believe I can manage on my own. I'll circle back in the next few days once the issue has been resolved. Should it be longer, I'm sure you'll have heard something."

"Massive explosion?" Essa chuckles.

"More than likely." Shaxx returns proudly before he starts toward the door.

Tevez has but one more question and given there's been no opportunity to ask, now is as good a time as any. "Lord Felwinter - was his partner found?" Tevez asks abruptly.

"Yes. Timur had sought refuge at my fortress mere hours before your messenger arrived and Felwinter not long behind him. I was headed this way anyhow. I am pleased to find my assistance wasn't necessary after all."

Tevez nods solemnly, lowering his gaze to Essa’s hand wrapped around his. His thumb traces over hers, the nagging sense becoming overwhelming as he tries to quiet his mind.

Shaxx won't hurt them. His people are safe.

"Tevez."

Tevez looks over at the Warlord.

"You've protected these people a long time. You saved Essa’s life. Take pride in that, Titan."

Tevez stares for a long moment before he manages a nod, mildly unsure what to say in response.

Shaxx nods approvingly before looking to Essa, "I'd like a word before I leave."

"Yes, sir." She slides off the bar top, squeezing Tevez’s hand before she follows Shaxx from the tavern.

Tevez sinks onto the stool, staring at the space Essa had been in just moments ago.

Is he going to have this sense when she leaves? This vacant space that gnaws at his soul until he caves and searches for her. Is his hand going to feel empty without hers? His bed, cold? His arms, frail? His heart - what's left of that human shell - broken?

She has seen what he is, what he can be and she gazes up at him with this adoration he does not feel worthy of.

You were lonely. Right? That's what this is…

It's what he tells himself.

But why does it feel like it's so much more?

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

"We can trust him?"

Essa looks over at Lord Shaxx before gazing out at the field before them, "We can. His one motivation is to protect these people...whether they deserve it or not." She says the last part quietly.

"What does that mean?"

She looks up at him, "It means these idiots take him for granted. He's dismissed until a crisis arrives and tossed aside the instant he's resolved it. He hides behind that helmet," Light ignites along her fingers, anger welling in her chest. "He's an Exo, Shaxx. He can't show his face because these people hate Exos. He stays in that house and--"

His hand settles on her shoulder and the Light slowly dissipates. She is livid and she'd begun to gather Arc energy, something she hadn't intended. The ground beneath her is scorched and she unclenches her fists.

"He deserves better than what these bastards have relegated him to. Even the children ignore him, brush him aside like a tool to be fetched when the need arises. He didn't even give himself a name, Shaxx." She looks down, "He won't leave them either. Won't see reason."

Won't ask me to stay.

"He must believe it's his duty." His voice draws her gaze up to his helmet.

"Duty means nothing if you're not even living."

"Each Light-Bearer has their own definition of duty. For some, it is greed. For others, glory. And still others, like your Titan, it is fulfilling a role they've self-appointed. Until he feels someone can carry on in his stead, he has bound himself to this village and its people - regardless of how he is treated."

"What if we sent a New Light here? They could take his place--"

"This village borders our territory. It's a wonder he has held it as long as he has on his own. Strategically, with his loyalty, he's in the right place."

Strategy nothing. Having him at my side would mean he's in the right place.

She folds her arms over her chest, biting back the retort.

"You care for him a great deal, don't you." Shaxx states more than asks and Essa nods.

"He doesn't know his own capacity but he can match my wit and my games," she smiles slightly, "And he plays them strategically. It's like a game of chess, Shaxx, but...faster. More exhilarating. I've never met someone like him before."

Shaxx pats her shoulder, "Why do I have a sense you'll find a few more assignments this way in the coming months?"

She chuckles, "Your premonition may be correct, boss."

"I'll see you in a few days. Make the most of them, Lady Essa."

She nods solemnly as the Warlord moves off and she turns, heading back to the village. She heads straight for Tevez’s home, opening the door with a smile and pauses when she doesn't see him.

Perhaps he's still at the tavern…?

She closes the door and quickly heads toward the town square. She'd have thought he'd want to get away from the people for a while after the meeting, but when she arrives Tevez is still there, his head locked in one position as if in a daze.

"Tev?" She says his nickname as gently as she can manage as she steps up beside him. There is no one else around, the place was closed until Shaxx had departed for privacy reasons but Tevez’s helmet had stayed firmly in place.

She lays her hand on his arm and his breathing hitches. He straightens, shaking his head and looks up at her. Her Titan is tense and rigid beneath her fingers, hisnhands clenched in his lap.

"Are you okay?"

Tevez turns in his seat to face her, his hands grip her waist and she's dragged forward into a hug. She stiffens for a moment in surprise before her arms wrap around his neck to return the embrace. All the while, he offers no words.

"Tevez, what's going on?" She asks softly, concern slipping into her voice as she lays her head against his helmet.

Nothing. He doesn't say a word.

Tev, you're scaring me.

She holds him. There is no other course of action, not for this. He'll find his voice when he's ready. She presses close and squeezes for all she's worth. If he could cry, she has a sense he'd be doing that right now.

"I'm here." She assures him and he tightens his hold on her. It should hurt. His armor has some sharper points since he was ambushed but pain isn't something she registers at the moment. This close to him, it should be digging into her ribs but she can't feel it. She can only feel his arms locked around her as if she were the only anchor left in a raging storm.

What went through your mind, Tevez? What jarred you so much you can't say anything?

She leans back, gingerly lifting his helmet. He does nothing to stop her. She sets it on the bar top and tilts his head up. There. There she finds the agony in his eyes. The fear. The panic. The weight he's drowning beneath.

Oh, Tev.

"What is it?" She traces her thumb along the plate just beneath his eye, "Talk to me, please." She pleads softly.

"...it's gonna be so quiet when you leave," he manages and he sounds so sad. So deeply and utterly heartbroken it nearly breaks hers.

"I'm still here, Tevez." She smiles slightly, hoping it will jar him from whatever this is.

"For now."

Then ask me to stay. Please. Give me a chance to stay at your side.

Essa leans her head down against his, "Come with me. These people will be safe under Shaxx's protection, you can--" She has to steady her voice, "You can make a home with me. Show your beautiful face whenever you want. Live a life you can enjoy."

She didn't realize she was crying. Her tears roll down his face plate and he stares at her with this agonized sort of plea.

"I want that. I want...what I can't have." He touches her cheek, wiping away a trailing tear. "But this - this cannot last, Essa."

"Why not? We're Light-Bearers. We can live one lifetime after another - at one another's side."

"Essa--"

"Please." She searches his eyes desperately. "You don't owe these people anything. Anyone can defend them. It doesn't have to be you. Take what you want for once!" She begs.

She never begs. She never cries either but Tevez - he changes everything. She has never wanted someone as badly as she wants him. Never felt this close to anyone. Never let anyone push her back. He is so unlike her and yet, he compliments her perfectly.

He can see it. She knows he can. So why can't she have him?

"I can't do that. Essa."

"Why not? She wilts in his arms even as his hand cradles her cheek.

"Because, sometimes, things don't happen the way we want them to."

"Then let me stay."

"Your place isn't here." His voice breaks and Essa grips his hand.

"To hell with that."

"Three days," he is trying to sound calm and composed but she can hear the pain in his voice. He doesn't even believe what he's saying. "Three days you have been here and God, you're all I think about. But there is...there's nothing here for you. Once you've deciphered what you want of me, you'll leave. It's easier this way. Spares us both."

"That's what you think this is?" She stares at him in disbelief, "I am not begging you to come with me because you're interesting, Tevez. God," she pushes him away, shaking her head in disbelief.

His eyes are on the floor, his body slumped in defeat against the bar top.

"I care about you. More than I thought I could care about anyone. I know the feeling is mutual so why can't you let us just--"

"Because I can't!" He stands, his voice is raised for the first time since she's met him and she flinches back. "I can't leave. I--" He shakes his head, sinking back onto the stool.

He doesn't know why. That much is clear. Everything in him wants to but he can't let himself cave. Maybe he won't know what he is if he leaves these people. Maybe he doesn't believe he's worthy. She doesn't know why. Just like she doesn't know why she just turns and leaves without a word.

Her mind is a whirlwind and when his voice doesn't call after her, her composure crumbles. She leaves the village, heads in the direction Shaxx had gone and bottles up the storm. It will serve a purpose later, but for now, press on.

See you around, Tevez.

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

CHAPTER 6

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